The War that Stops and Starts

The war in Ukraine has developed a peculiar and unsettling rhythm. The front line, running from the north of the Donbas to the southern approaches of Zaporizhzhia and Kherson, is not stable in the sense of being calm. Nor is it constantly aflame. Instead it pulses irregularly: bursts of furious combat erupt in one sector before subsiding into weeks of relative stillness. At the same time, Russia’s missile and drone strikes upon Ukraine’s civilian infrastructure come not as a steady rain but in unpredictable storms, interspersed with deceptive lulls. This stop–start tempo reflects not only the material limits of both armies but also their weariness, and it is the defining feature of a stalemate.

Inconsistencies at the Front

On the battlefield, the pattern is unmistakable. Russian forces launch sudden assaults—whether on the Pokrovsk axis, Kupiansk, or near Kharkiv—only to halt for long intervals, consolidating fragile gains and replenishing depleted units. Ukrainian troops employ precision artillery, drones, and infiltration raids to reclaim ground, but these too are episodic, brief flares of activity that fade quickly. The line itself barely moves.

This rhythm is born of exhaustion. Russia’s manpower losses are staggering, while Ukraine faces shortages of shells and trained troops. Neither side possesses the means to sustain a continuous offensive. Both armies must fight in bursts, resting and regrouping between each surge. The consequence is a jagged rhythm: advance, pause, retreat, then silence.

Irregular Attacks on Civilians

Russian strikes on Ukrainian cities follow the same logic. For weeks, only a handful of drones trouble Kyiv’s skies. Then, with little warning, a wave of missiles descends upon Odesa or Kharkiv, crippling power stations or flattening apartment blocks. These spasms are often timed to coincide with symbolic dates—anniversaries, diplomatic summits, or Ukrainian national holidays—suggesting political theatre as much as military design.

The irregularity points to a deeper reality. Russia’s missile stockpiles are finite, her production capacity limited. She must conserve and ration, striking in bursts to maintain the illusion of overwhelming power. The effect is psychological as well as physical: civilians oscillate between fragile calm and sudden terror, never knowing when the next assault will come.

Stalemate as a Condition of War

When fighting becomes irregular, the logic of war shifts. A truly offensive war—whether blitzkrieg or deep battle—thrives on continuity, pressing an enemy until collapse. In Ukraine, by contrast, each surge of violence collapses under its own weight. Russia cannot break through, Ukraine cannot push back decisively. The result is paralysis punctuated by violence.

This is not only a matter of material fatigue. It is also a symptom of psychological exhaustion. Armies locked in a stop–start pattern betray their own weariness: unable to sustain pressure, yet unwilling to admit defeat. Civilians, too, are caught in the same rhythm, their daily lives suspended between long stretches of waiting and sudden moments of destruction.

Historical Parallels

The stop–start rhythm of Ukraine’s war is not unique. Other wars of attrition have displayed the same jagged tempo.

• The First World War: After the opening manoeuvres of 1914, the Western Front congealed into trenches. Battles like the Somme or Verdun erupted in titanic spasms, only to subside into months of mud and stalemate. Soldiers endured long stretches of monotony punctuated by brief, murderous offensives.

  
  

• The Iran–Iraq War (1980–88): Two exhausted armies hurled themselves at each other across static front lines, launching vast human-wave assaults or missile barrages, then pausing for months. Civilians in Tehran and Baghdad endured the “war of the cities”: irregular strikes on urban centres that terrorised without deciding the war.

  
  

• The Korean War (1950–53): After the fluid campaigns of the first year, the conflict settled into positional warfare along the 38th parallel. Fierce battles erupted at chosen points, but the front hardly shifted. Negotiations dragged on while soldiers suffered cycles of attack and counter-attack.

These historical precedents suggest that stop–start wars are wars of attrition. They do not end in breakthrough, but in exhaustion: through negotiation, collapse of morale, or external intervention.

The Contemporary Impasse

Ukraine’s conflict shares these features. Along the front, neither army can maintain initiative. Russia’s forces lash out but lack sustainability. Ukraine’s counter-attacks demonstrate ingenuity but falter for want of resources. Civilian bombardment shocks but does not compel. Both sides endure the grind of attrition, aware that decisive victory is elusive.

What is unique today is the modern overlay: drones, precision weapons, satellite intelligence. Yet even with these, the logic is unchanged. Technology allows sharper spikes of violence, but it cannot overcome exhaustion. The rhythm remains irregular—one more feature of a war that cannot be won outright without a dramatic change on the part of one side or the other.

Conclusion

The war in Ukraine is the war that stops and starts. On the battlefield, surges of combat flare and fade. In the cities, missile storms are followed by long silences. The pattern betrays a deeper truth: this is a stalemated conflict, shaped by material limits and by war weariness on both sides.

History shows that such wars rarely end through decisive battle. They end when the exhaustion becomes intolerable—when one side collapses, or when both accept the necessity of compromise. For now, the war’s stop–start rhythm continues, its irregular tempo a bleak measure of how long stalemate can endure.