For a while now, the Ukraine-Russia war has been compared by various pundits to the Korean War of the early 1950s. That conflict, which split the Korean Peninsula in two, ended without a clear victor. Hostilities ceased with the signing of an armistice in 1953, but no formal peace treaty ever followed. The Korean Peninsula remains technically at war, suspended in an uneasy truce and still divided along the 38th parallel.
Could Ukraine be heading toward a similar outcome? In many respects, today’s deadlock echoes the dynamics of the Korean War. North Korea relied on support from China and the Soviet Union, while South Korea was backed by a United States-led coalition. Following a series of offensives and counteroffensives, the conflict slowed down to a war of attrition, which dragged out the negotiation of a ceasefire for two years.
Today, Russia, bolstered by China’s backing, is fighting in Ukraine, whose army is sustained by its Western allies. In the past year, the conflict has slowed down, and the map of the front line no longer sees dramatic changes.
But unlike in the Korean War, the prospects of a ceasefire here appear slim after three years of fighting. The diplomatic and pressure politics offensive by US President Donald Trump to force the two sides to put down their weapons has borne no fruit.
Both sides talk about ceasefire, but act as if they want the war to continue.
On Sunday, a fresh dose of fuel was poured into the fire.
Ukraine launched a series of precise, destructive, and strategically painful strikes against Russian military airfields. The damage inflicted reportedly amounts to $7bn. Forty-one aircraft — about one-third of Russia’s strategic bomber fleet — were hit. In parallel, two bridges collapsed in two Russian regions bordering Ukraine, derailing trains; the local authorities said they suspected sabotage.
A week before that, Russia sent a swarm of more than 900 drones and dozens of missiles – killing at least 16 civilians, including three children – across Ukraine. On Monday, the Russian army sent a barrage of missiles deep into Ukrainian territory, hitting a training camp for soldiers and killing 12.
The timing of these attacks appears to have been deliberately chosen. They came just ahead of the latest stage of peace talks — raising questions about whether such gestures are intended to strengthen each side’s negotiating position or derail the process altogether.
It is not the first time that the two sides have stepped up attacks when talks have come up. Last year, precisely as Moscow and Kyiv were about to start negotiating a partial ceasefire, Ukraine launched its incursion into Kursk. The efforts to bring the two sides to the negotiating table fell through.
This time, Russia chose to downplay Sunday’s explosions deep inside its territory. The Russian Defence Ministry grudgingly acknowledged that “several units of aircraft caught fire”, but made no overt threat of retaliation. Rather than lodging a formal protest, Russian delegation members proceeded to Istanbul for negotiations with their Ukrainian counterparts.
On Monday, the two sides met and managed to reach agreement on two issues: a prisoner exchange of at least 1,000 soldiers each, and the possible return of 10 abducted Ukrainian children by the Russian authorities. There was no progress on a ceasefire agreement. It was clear that neither Moscow nor Kyiv was ready for serious talks. The leadership in both capitals has its reasons for avoiding the order to put down weapons.
Russian President Vladimir Putin has shown, time and again, that he will not allow others to dictate terms to him; he prefers to set them himself. As the principal architect of this war, he is getting everything he wants: expanding political influence, territorial gains, and a drawn-out conflict that bolsters his image at home. He seems ready to torment Ukraine for as long as either it — or he — survives.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, for his part, is not the kind of man to yield or retreat. Setting aside his courage and stubbornness, it’s clear the war has given him what peace never could: enduring popularity, a steady flow of international aid, and a firm grip on power. If Ukrainians see a truce concluded with Russia as a form of capitulation, Zelensky’s presidency might not last months — perhaps not even weeks. That danger weighs heavy on him.
Meanwhile, the West seems willing to supply resources to continue the war effort, which is giving Kyiv more confidence. On June 3, the Ukrainian army struck the Kerch Bridge in Crimea — a structure constructed by Russia after its illegal annexation of the Ukrainian peninsula. The bridge is both a symbol of Putin’s imperial ambition and a strategic artery linking Russia to occupied Crimea. An attack on it is certain to provoke a response.
What form that response will take, we will likely know very soon.
Ukraine’s gamble on Western backing has raised the stakes. The war may be entering a new, more dangerous phase: one defined not by front lines, but by symbolic attacks and overwhelming retaliation.
For many ordinary Ukrainians, the fragile hope that the fighting can come to a stop has given way to a grim sense that the war will drag on for months, if not years. Among us are optimists who firmly believe that Ukraine will ultimately prevail. At the other end are pessimists who argue that defeating an enemy vastly superior in size, military power, and enormous revenues from hydrocarbon sales is simply impossible.
Politics and war are not about fairness, justice, or morality. War feeds on human lives. It endures as long as leaders turn a blind eye to the suffering of their people.
At present, there is no sign that the Ukrainian and Russian leaderships are ready for compromise. And that does not bode well for the ordinary Ukrainians who bear the brunt of this war.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.
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