Putin Has Sent Us a Message, but Not the One He Meant To

Margo Gontar

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KYIV, Ukraine — If you want to imagine how it felt being in Kyiv on Monday, it isn’t hard.

You wake up at 6.49 a.m. to the sound of air sirens. Or maybe you sleep through the sirens — after all, you’re used to them — but the explosions, shuddering the walls, shake you awake. Hurriedly, you decide to move to a safe place, a subway station or a friend’s house with thick walls. You grab your go bag, which since February has been by your front door, complete with your laptop, chargers and documents.

Or perhaps you decide not to leave. You make yourself some coffee and do chores while listening to the explosions, careful to keep away from the windows. You call the school to ask when to bring in your child (once the air raid is over, they tell you). When it is, you go to the supermarket to get a new pack of coffee, you drop by the post office to pick up some parcels. Amid the confusion and clatter, you continue to live.

That’s not because it’s not scary anymore — it is. It’s terrifying not to hear from loved ones you called hours ago, not to know if they can’t call you back because the power is down or because of reasons you don’t even want to start imagining. It’s devastating to count the dead and to guess whether those you know are among them. It’s exhausting to wonder whether the next house to be hit will be yours.

But something is very different now. While it’s clear that Vladimir Putin wanted to threaten Ukrainians and send a message of power with the bombings of Kyiv and Lviv, Kharkiv and Dnipro — at the cost of at least 19 lives — the attack in fact shows just one thing: how weak Mr. Putin is. Among Ukrainians, there is an almost palpable feeling that Russia is losing the war.

Mr. Putin might know it, too. You can see it in his address right after the Crimean bridge explosion on Saturday: no more loud, assertive tones, just a tired old man. His lack of enthusiasm is understandable. Because what was hit in Kerch Strait was not just a bridge, it was the very thing that connects Russia with annexed Crimea — the link Russia is trying so hard to hone. The bridge, said to be protected in every possible way, was a symbol of Russian power. And yet it was hit.

You can see Russia’s desperation in its choice of targets. One of the first things hit on Monday morning, tellingly, was a famous glass pedestrian bridge in Kyiv’s city center, a tit-for-tat reprisal. (No doubt distressingly for the Kremlin, it survived the attack better than its Crimean counterpart.) But we all know the goal of these attacks was not military. The aim was to terrorize.

It did the trick, for a moment. Videos of the damaged glass bridge spread on social media, as did photos of Kyiv’s city center, smoke billowing across the spacious Shevchenko park, where Kyivans meet to hang out. It’s been the site of many special moments in my own life, when I sat with friends under the glance of the seemingly eternal Kyiv chestnut trees. To see this place so dear to the hearts of many Ukrainians under attack was truly shocking.

But then came the rage and, with it, understanding. If Russia needs to resort to the lowest tactics, to terrorism against civilians, to hitting universities, museums, libraries, playgrounds, apartment buildings and infrastructure sites — 11 of them across the country — then Ukraine obviously has the upper hand. After a string of successful counteroffensives in the northeast and the south, Ukrainian forces have gained momentum. Russia, suffering substantial losses on the front line every day, is struggling on the battlefield. Monday’s escalation proved it.

So what now? Ukrainians will set about repairing the damage, of course, as we have done before. Yet we’re under no illusions: While Russia is weak and has no chance of winning in the long run, it still has plenty of leftover military ammunition from the Soviet era and a willingness to use it. We are braced for more disasters.