Volodymyr Zelensky Has a Plan for Ukraine’s Victory

Volodymyr Zelensky's situation room, where the Ukrainian President monitors developments in his country's war with Russia, is a windowless chamber, largely taken up by a rectangular conference table and ringed by blackened screens, deep inside the Presidential Administration Building, in central Kyiv. On a recent afternoon, as I sat inside, waiting for Zelensky, I heard his voice—a syrupy baritone, speckled with gravel—before he entered, dressed in his signature military-adjacent style: black T-shirt, olive-drab pants, brown boots. He was in the midst of preparations for a trip to the U.S., where he is scheduled to address the United Nations General Assembly and, crucially, meet with Joe Biden at the White House, to present what Zelensky has taken to calling Ukraine's "victory plan."

Zelensky is saving the details for his meeting with Biden, but he has said that the plan contains a number of elements related to Ukraine's long-term security and geopolitical position, which presumably includes joining NATO on an accelerated schedule, and the provision of Western military aid with fewer restrictions. (In the run-up to the trip, Zelensky has been lobbying his allies in the West to allow Ukraine to strike targets deep inside Russia with long-range missiles supplied by the U.S. and other Western countries.) Ukraine's incursion last month into Kursk, a border region in western Russia—where Ukrainian forces currently occupy around four hundred square miles of Russian territory—is also part of this plan, according to Zelensky, in that it provides Kyiv with leverage against the Kremlin, while also demonstrating that its military is capable of going on the offensive.

Zelensky still presents as the person we have come to know from television screens and social media: an impassioned communicator, confident and unrelenting to the point of stubbornness, an entertainer turned statesman who has weaponized the force of his personality in a thoroughly modern form of warfare. But it is also abundantly clear that the war, now in its third year, cannot be won on Zelensky's talents alone. A long-awaited Ukrainian counter-offensive fizzled out without much result last year. Russian forces have since steadily increased their foothold in the Donbas, in Ukraine's east—a grinding campaign in which Russia suffers enormous losses yet manages to march forward, inch by bloody inch. The city of Pokrovsk, a logistics and transport hub in the Donbas, is Russia's latest target. It is being systematically destroyed by artillery shelling and "glide bombs"—Soviet-era munitions, retrofitted with wings and G.P.S. navigation.

Zelensky has pleaded for more Western military aid, which would certainly help but would not solve Ukraine's other problems: an inability to sufficiently mobilize and train new soldiers, and ongoing struggles to maintain effective communication and coördination on the front. Meanwhile, across the country, a lack of air defenses has allowed Russia to strike power plants and other energy infrastructure; a recent U.N. report predicted that, come winter, power outages may last up to eighteen hours a day. Polls show increasing levels of fatigue for the war in Ukrainian society, an uptick in those willing to consider peace without a total victory, and an erosion in public trust in Zelensky himself.

Zelensky speaks with the urgency of a leader who knows that he may be facing his last best chance for substantial foreign assistance. Biden is nearing the end of his Presidency, and may be wary of dramatically increasing U.S. involvement, lest he create political headwinds for Kamala Harris in the weeks before November's election. Donald Trump , meanwhile, has been vague on his policy toward Ukraine. During this month's debate with Harris, he conspicuously declined to speak of a Ukrainian victory, saying only "I want the war to stop." In the U.S., Zelensky will discuss his victory plan not only with Biden but also with Harris and Trump. He is clearly aware that the results of the U.S. election hold potentially decisive implications for his country, but he maintains the pose of a man who believes he can still bend history in his favor. "The most important thing now is determination," Zelensky said in a Presidential address in the days before we met.

During our interview in the situation room, which has been edited for length and clarity, Zelensky skipped between history and political philosophy, military strategy and the mechanisms of international diplomacy. He is a discursive speaker, sometimes hard to pin down, but unfailingly focussed on one overarching message: Ukraine is fighting a war not only with Western backing but on behalf of the West. Ukraine's sacrifices, Zelensky argues, have kept the U.S. and European nations from having to make more personally painful ones. The argument is clear, even if the response is sometimes disappointing. "If he doesn't want to support it, I cannot force him," Zelensky told me, of his upcoming meeting at the White House to discuss his victory plan with Biden. "I can only keep on explaining."

For some time, when you talked about the end of the war, you talked about a total victory for Ukraine: Ukraine would return to its 1991 borders, affirm its sovereignty in Crimea, and retake all of its territory from Russia. But in recent months, you have become more open to the idea of negotiations—through peace summits, for example, the first of which was conducted this summer, in Switzerland. What has changed in your thinking, and your country's thinking, about how this war might end?

When I'm asked, "How do you define victory," my response is entirely sincere. There's been no change in my mind-set. That's because victory is about justice. A just victory is one whose outcome satisfies all—those who respect international law, those who live in Ukraine, those who lost their loved ones and relatives. For them the price is high. For them there will never be an excuse for what Putin and his Army have done. You can't simply sew this wound up like a surgeon because it's in your heart, in your soul. And that is why the crucial nuance is that, although justice does not close our wounds, it affords the possibility of a world that we all recognize as fair. It is not fair that someone's son or daughter was taken from them, but, unfortunately, there is a finality to this injustice and it is impossible to bring them back. But justice at least provides some closure.

The fact that Ukraine desires a just victory is not the issue; the issue is that Putin has zero desire to end the war on any reasonable terms at all. If the world is united against him, he feigns an interest in dialogue—"I'm ready to negotiate, let's do it, let's sit down together"—but this is just talk. It's empty rhetoric, a fiction, that keeps the world from standing together with Ukraine and isolating Putin. He pretends to open the door to dialogue, and those countries that seek a geopolitical balance—China, for one, but also some other Asian and African states—say, "Ah, see, he hears us and he's ready to negotiate." But it is all just appearance. From our side, we see the game he is playing and we amend our approaches to ending the war. Where he offers empty rhetoric, we offer a real formula for bringing peace, a concrete plan for how we can end the war.

And yet, in 2022 and 2023, your words and actions signalled a categorical refusal to negotiate with the enemy, whereas now you seem to have opened a window to the idea of negotiating, a willingness to ask if negotiations are worth pursuing.

If we go back two years, to the G-20 summit, in Indonesia, in my video appearance, I presented our formula for peace. Since then, I've been quite consistent in saying that the Russians have blocked all our initiatives from the very beginning, and that they continue to do so. And I said that any negotiation process would be unsuccessful if it's with Putin or with his entourage, who are all just his puppets.

Everyone said that we have to allow the possibility of some kind of dialogue. And I told them, "Look, your impression that Putin wants to end the war is misguided. That's a potentially fatal mistake you are making, I'm telling you." But, on our end, we have to demonstrate that we do have this desire for dialogue—and ours is a genuine one. Our partners think we should be at the negotiating table? Then let's be constructive. Let's have a first summit where we all get together. We shall write up a plan and give it to the Russians. They might say, "We are ready to talk," and then we'd have a second summit where they say, "This formula of yours, we agree with it." Or, alternatively, "We disagree. We think that it should be like this and like that." This is called dialogue. But to make it happen, you have to prepare a plan without the Russians, because, unfortunately, they seem to think that they have a kind of red card, as in soccer, that they can hold up and block everything. Our plan, however—it is being prepared.

I understand that you are going to present this plan to Biden?

The victory plan is a bridge. After the first peace summit, our partners saw that Russia was not prepared for any talks at all—which confirmed my message to them and my insistence that without making Ukraine strong, they will never force Putin to negotiate fairly and on equal terms. No one believed me. They said, We'll invite them to the second summit and they'll come running. Well, now we have the second summit planned and they don't look like they'll come running.

And so the victory plan is a plan that swiftly strengthens Ukraine. A strong Ukraine will force Putin to the negotiating table. I'm convinced of that. It's just that, before, I was only saying it and now I've put it all on paper, with specific arguments and specific steps to strengthen Ukraine during the months of October, November, and December, and to enable a diplomatic end of the war. The difference this time will be that Putin will have grasped the depth of this plan and of our partners' commitment to strengthening us, and he will realize an important fact: that if he is not ready to end this war in a way that is fair and just, and instead wishes to continue to try to destroy us, then a strengthened Ukraine will not let him do so. Not only that but continuing to pursue that goal would also considerably weaken Russia, which would threaten Putin's own position.

What happens if Biden says, "With all due respect, this is a difficult time, the election's coming up, I'm having enough trouble with Congress without trying to increase aid packages for you," and he rejects your request—do you have a Plan B?

We have been living in Plan B for years. Plan A was proposed before the full-scale war, when we called for two things: preventive sanctions and preventive reinforcement of Ukraine with various weapons. I told our partners, If Ukraine is very strong, nothing will happen. They didn't listen. Since then, they have all recognized I was right. Strengthening Ukraine would have significantly lowered the probability of Putin invading.

I'm now proposing a new Plan A. This plan means we change the current course, where it's only thanks to the strength of our military, the heroic devotion to the European values of our people and our fighters, that we have stood our ground. If you don't want this war to drag on, if you do not want Putin to bury us under the corpses of his people, taking more Ukrainian lives in the process, we offer you a plan to strengthen Ukraine. It is not a fantasy and not science fiction, and, importantly, it does not require the Russians to coöperate to succeed. Rather, the plan spells out what our partners can do without Russia's participation. If diplomacy is the desire of both sides, then, before diplomacy can be effective, our plan's implementation depends only on us and on our partners.

You were right, this plan is designed, first and foremost, with Biden's support in mind. If he doesn't want to support it, I cannot force him. If he refuses—well, then we must continue to live inside Plan B. And that's unfortunate.

What would that look like? I mean, if Biden says no?

That's a horrible thought. It would mean that Biden doesn't want to end the war in any way that denies Russia a victory. And we would end up with a very long war—an impossible, exhausting situation that would kill a tremendous number of people. Having said that, I can't blame Biden for anything. At the end of the day, he took a powerful, historic step when he chose to support us at the start of the war, an action that pushed our other partners to do the same. We recognize Biden's great achievement in this respect. That step of his already constituted a historic victory.

And what would you say, maybe not even to Biden but to the American public, many of whom feel that we cannot raise our engagement and support for Ukraine any further than we already have?

I would tell them that Ukraine has done everything possible to keep America out of this war, actually. Putin counted on defeating Ukraine in a quick campaign and, had Ukraine not stood its ground, Putin would have marched on. Let's consider what the consequences would have been. Number one, you would have some forty million immigrants coming to Europe, America, and Canada. Second, you would lose the largest country in Europe—a huge blow to America's influence on the Continent. Russia would now have total influence there. You would lose everyone—Poland, Germany—and your influence would be zero.

The American public should realize that the fact of Ukraine still standing is not the problem. Yes, war brings difficulties, but Ukraine's resilience has allowed America to solve many other challenges. Let's say Russia attacked Poland next—what then? In Ukraine, Russia has found fake legal ground for its actions, saying that it's protecting Russian-speaking people, but it could have been Poland or it could have been the Baltic states, which are all NATO members. This would have been a disaster, a gut punch for the United States, because then you're definitely involved full scale—with troops on the ground, funding, investment, and with the American economy going to a wartime footing. So saying that you have been in this war for a long time is just not true. Quite the contrary: I believe that we have shielded America from total war.

Here's another crucial element: this is a war of postponement for the United States. It's a way to buy time. As far as Russia is concerned, Ukraine does not even need to lose outright for Russia to win. Russia understands that Ukraine is struggling as it is; it already stands excluded from the European Union and NATO, with nearly a third of its territory occupied. Russia might decide that's enough, so it might strike Poland just the same—in response to some provocation from Belarus, for example. And so, after two and a half years of your support and investment—for which we are very grateful—you can multiply them all by zero. America would have to start investing from scratch, and in a war of a totally different calibre. American soldiers would fight in it. Which would all benefit Russia tremendously, I should add.

During the Presidential debate, moderators asked Trump whether he wanted Ukraine to win against Russia, and he sidestepped the question. He just said, "I want the war to stop." It must have troubled you to hear his answer and to consider the prospect of his winning.

Trump makes political statements in his election campaign. He says he wants the war to stop. Well, we do, too. This phrase and desire, they unite the world; everyone shares them. But here's the scary question: Who will shoulder the costs of stopping the war? Some might say that the Minsk Agreements either stopped or froze the fighting at some point. But they also gave the Russians a chance to arm themselves even better, and to strengthen their fake claim over our territories they occupied.

But isn't that yet more cause for alarm?

My feeling is that Trump doesn't really know how to stop the war even if he might think he knows how. With this war, oftentimes, the deeper you look at it the less you understand. I've seen many leaders who were convinced they knew how to end it tomorrow, and as they waded deeper into it, they realized it's not that simple.

Apart from Trump's own reluctance to talk about Ukrainian victory, he has chosen J. D. Vance as his Vice-Presidential candidate.

He is too radical.

Vance has come out with a more precise plan to—

To give up our territories.

Your words, not mine. But, yes, that's the gist of it.

His message seems to be that Ukraine must make a sacrifice. This brings us back to the question of the cost and who shoulders it. The idea that the world should end this war at Ukraine's expense is unacceptable. But I do not consider this concept of his a plan, in any formal sense. This would be an awful idea, if a person were actually going to carry it out, to make Ukraine shoulder the costs of stopping the war by giving up its territories. But there's certainly no way this could ever happen. This kind of scenario would have no basis in international norms, in U.N. statute, in justice. And it wouldn't necessarily end the war, either. It's just sloganeering.

What does it mean for Ukraine that people with such ideas and slogans are rising to power?

For us, these are dangerous signals, coming as they do from a potential Vice-President. I should say that it hasn't been like this with Trump. He and I talked on the phone, and his message was as positive as it could be, from my point of view. "I understand," "I will lend support," and so on.

[Vance and others who share his views] should clearly understand that the moment they start trading on our territory is the moment they start pawning America's interests elsewhere: the Middle East, for example, as well as Taiwan and the U.S. relations with China. Whichever President or Vice-President raises this prospect—that ending the war hinges on cementing the status quo, with Ukraine simply giving up its land—should be held responsible for potentially starting a global war. Because such a person would be implying that this kind of behavior is acceptable.

I don't take Vance's words seriously, because, if this were a plan, then America is headed for global conflict. It will involve Israel, Lebanon, Iran, Taiwan, China, as well as many African countries. That approach would broadcast to the world the following implicit rule: I came, I conquered, now this is mine. It will apply everywhere: land claims and mineral rights and borders between nations. It would imply that whoever asserts control over territory—not the rightful owner but whoever came in a month or a week ago, with a machine gun in hand—is the one who's in charge. We'll end up in a world where might is right. And it will be a completely different world, a global showdown.

Let Mr. Vance read up on the history of the Second World War, when a country was forced to give part of its territory to one particular person. What did that man do? Was he appeased or did he deal a devastating blow to the continent of Europe—to many nations, broadly, and to the Jewish nation in particular? Let him do some reading. The Jewish people are a strong power base in the United States, so let them conduct a public-education campaign and explain why millions perished thanks to the fact that someone offered to give up a sliver of territory.

When we last spoke, in 2019, Ukraine was caught in the middle of an American political scandal. There was the question of your phone call with Trump, an implicit threat to curtail U.S. aid, and the subsequent impeachment hearings against a U.S. President. I recently reread our interview, and you told me at the time, "In this political chess match, I will not let Ukraine be a pawn." Do you worry that Ukraine has now ended up in a similar situation, used by various political actors to push their own agenda or advantage in the U.S. political context?

To be honest, the incident you mention no longer feels as relevant. That was a long time ago. And since then, many things have changed.

Nonetheless, you must have drawn some conclusions from this experience.

I think Ukraine has demonstrated the wisdom of not becoming captured by American domestic politics. We have always tried to avoid influencing the choices of the American people—that would simply be wrong. But, in that incident and elsewhere, I believe we have always demonstrated that Ukraine is definitely not a pawn, and that our interests have to be taken into account.

You have to work to maintain that every day, though. Because the second you relax, that's exactly what will happen. A lot of world leaders want to have some sort of dealings with Putin, to reach agreements, to conduct some business with him. I look at such leaders and realize that they are very interested in playing this game—and for them, unfortunately, it really is a game. But what makes a real leader? A leader is someone whom Putin needs for something, not a person who needs Putin. Flirting with him is not a sign of strength. Sitting across the table from him might make you believe you're making important decisions about the world. But what are those decisions really about? Has the war ended? No. Has it produced the outcome you wanted? Not yet. Is Putin still in power? Yes.

Ukraine is a very painful topic for Putin—he wanted to defeat us and couldn't—which means that it offers a way to build a bond with him. But the truth is that you can only develop relations with Putin on his terms. That means, for instance, proposing that Ukraine should give up some of its territory. This, in a way, is the easiest thing to call for. It is very concrete. And for Putin, it's a morsel that he doesn't even have to cut in order to eat—you have already chewed it for him and placed it right in his mouth. When you give it to him, you think you're so smart and cunning, that after such a gesture Putin will listen to you and support your positions. Well, tell me, when did Putin respect those who come to him from a position of weakness?

After Russia invaded, many people were inclined to compare you to Winston Churchill, Britain's leader during the Second World War, but you've said in interviews that you prefer the example of Charlie Chaplin, who waged a struggle against fascism through appealing to his audience, the public. How do you regard your role as a communicator?

People are always more comfortable relying not on abstract ideas but on some specific historical examples. But it feels immodest to compare myself with the people you mentioned. That said, Chaplin had an unquestionable talent for telling a story, for finding a way to get through to people. He didn't merely broadcast some facts and numbers—he used the language of cinema to craft an emotional narrative. He used that talent to fight fascism. As for Churchill, he was the leader of a country that found itself in very difficult circumstances, but still managed to be the only country in Europe that firmly said no to fascism. It's not that other countries necessarily said yes—some were invaded, lost battles, or were subdued in other ways. Hitler occupied much of Europe. But from Churchill and the U.K., there was a firm no. And this no convinced America that it should become a serious ally in the war.

Let's talk about the Kursk operation. What is its motive? And who is the intended audience: Putin, to show him that Ukraine, too, can go on the offensive, or Ukraine's Western partners, to demonstrate to them what Ukraine can achieve if given the proper resources?

Both these motives are important, but there is more at stake here. First, it was clear to us that Russia is pressing us in the east. No matter how the Kursk operation ends, military analysts will someday calculate the speed of Russia's progress and ask, What prevented us from stopping them earlier? How fast were they moving in the east before the Kursk operation began, and why? Ukraine had trouble mobilizing people, they might say, and didn't have enough strength to stop them, but that is diverting the focus from the more pertinent point—namely, the fact that we should receive what we've been promised. I say, first give it to us, and then analyze if the root of the problem is with Ukraine or with you.

Imagine: you're struggling in a tough war, you're not receiving aid, you strain to maintain morale. And the Russians have the initiative in the east, they have taken parts of the Kharkiv region, and they're about to attack Sumy. You have to do something—something other than endlessly asking your partners for help. So what do you do? Do you tell your people, "Dear Ukrainians, in two weeks, eastern Ukraine will cease to exist"? Sure, you can do that, throw up your hands, but you can also try taking a bold step.

Of course, you're right to wonder if this action will go down in history as a success or a failure. It's too early to judge. But I am not preoccupied with historic successes. I'm focussed on the here and now. What we can say, however, is that it has already shown some results. It has slowed down the Russians and forced them to move some of their forces to Kursk, on the order of forty thousand troops. Already, our fighters in the east say that they are being battered less frequently.

I'm not saying it's a resounding success, or will bring about the end of the war, or the end of Putin. What it has done is show our partners what we're capable of. We have also shown the Global South that Putin, who claims to have everything under control, in fact does not. And we have shown a very important truth to the Russians. Unfortunately, many of them have their eyes closed, they don't want to see or hear anything. But some Russian people could not help but notice how Putin did not run to defend his own land. No, instead he wants to first and foremost look after himself, and to finish off Ukraine. His people are not a priority for him.

It has been more than a month since the start of the Kursk operation. We continue to provide food and water to the people in territories we control. These people are free to leave: all the necessary corridors are open, and they could go elsewhere in Russia—but they do not. They don't understand why Russia didn't come to help, and left them to survive on their own. And people in Moscow and St. Petersburg—far from Kursk—saw that, if one day the Ukrainian Army showed up there, too, it's far from certain they would be saved. That's important. That's also a part of this operation: long before the war gets to these places, or there's some other crisis, Russian people should know who they have placed in power for a quarter century, with whom they have thrown in their lot.

This war is being fought not just over territory but over values. But during war, in the name of victory, it may not always be possible to maintain these values as one might in peacetime. Do you feel that there are occasions when these two interests—democratic values and the reality of wartime—can clash, or end up in conflict? The United News TV Marathon, for example, which has been on air since the beginning of the invasion, pulls together multiple television channels to broadcast news about the war and other events in a highly coördinated way.

The truth is that journalists came together because, in the early days of the war, when people feared a total occupation of the country, no one knew what to do. Some people took off in one direction, law enforcement in another. There were even stories about how the President had run off somewhere. It was chaos. The fact is that I was among those who stayed and put an end to that chaos, and I don't think that has led to anything so terrible. Many would say it's one of the factors that gave people the strength to fight for their country.

But the centralization of power has a downside.

I want to finish. Journalists in Ukraine decided to join forces in order to combat Russian disinformation. I want to make it clear that simply because the news departments of these [six] TV channels have come together it does not mean the channels themselves are destroyed. They exist as they did before. They have kept their own places in the broadcast lineup. They are free to show what they want. But this telemarathon has become a resource for people who, say, have no electricity or see drones flying overhead. There have been lots of periods when there were all kinds of misinformation going around, and the telemarathon provides the truth. And you're saying this is a bad thing. O.K., if that's the case, I'm not insisting.

A last question about how war changes a person. It's hard to imagine an experience with a more profound effect on the human psyche.

I'm still holding it together, if it's me you're talking about.

But I wonder if there are moments when you catch yourself reacting to things differently than you might have before. Do you notice you've changed at all?

Perhaps I've become less emotional. There's simply no time for that. Just like there's no time for reasoned discourse and arguments. I only have the opportunity to think aloud in that way during interviews. I don't do this with my subordinates and colleagues in the government. If I were to sit down and ruminate on every decision for an hour, I would be able to make only two or three decisions a day. But I have to make twenty or thirty.