The enemy is surging, but apart from losses, achieved nothing
On the 1,222nd day of a war that has reshaped the map of Europe, Russia pressed simultaneously on the battlefield and in the halls of diplomacy — surging toward the Ukrainian city of Kostiantynivka while its culture minister landed in Pyongyang with 125 performers, a gesture that spoke to how thoroughly Moscow has reoriented its world. The slow, grinding advance through eastern Ukraine continues to consume lives and cities alike, even as the alliances sustaining both sides grow more complex and, for Ukraine, more uncertain.
- Russian forces are attacking Kostiantynivka across three simultaneous sectors, signaling a deliberate escalation designed to fracture Ukrainian defensive lines in the Donetsk region.
- Moscow claimed the village of Chervona Zirka, adding another small piece to a mosaic of slow conquest that leaves destroyed infrastructure and shattered communities in its wake.
- Russia's culture minister arrived in North Korea with 125 performers, a theatrical confirmation that the Putin-Kim defense pact has matured into something far beyond symbolic solidarity — including the deployment of North Korean troops in the Kursk offensive.
- Russia's demand that Ukraine formally recognize its control over four regions it does not fully occupy keeps any peace settlement structurally out of reach, locking both sides into continued war.
- Poland's incoming nationalist president, who campaigned against Ukraine's NATO membership and criticized Zelenskyy directly, now threatens to complicate the vital logistics corridor through which Western aid reaches Ukrainian forces.
On the 1,222nd day of the war, Russia was pressing on two fronts at once. Around Kostiantynivka in the Donetsk region — a city that has become a focal point of Moscow's territorial ambitions — Ukrainian and Russian forces were locked in what commanders on both sides described as a new surge of violence. Ukraine's top military commander, Oleksandr Syrskyi, acknowledged on Telegram that Russian forces were attacking across three separate sectors, though he insisted the enemy had paid an enormous price and "achieved nothing."
Russia's defence ministry, meanwhile, announced the capture of the village of Chervona Zirka, southwest of Kostiantynivka near the Dnipropetrovsk border. The pattern was familiar: slow, costly advances, village by village, leaving behind ruins where cities once stood.
Thousands of kilometers away, Russia's culture minister Olga Lyubimova arrived in Pyongyang with a 125-person delegation of performers, framing the visit as proof that Russian-North Korean cooperation had reached "unprecedented heights." The trip was not ceremonial. Since the invasion, Moscow and Pyongyang had moved from distant acquaintances to active military partners, bound by a mutual defense treaty and, as both sides recently disclosed, the deployment of North Korean soldiers to support Russia's operations in the Kursk region.
Russia's negotiating position remained as maximalist as ever: any settlement would require Ukraine to formally recognize Russian control over Luhansk, Donetsk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson — four regions Moscow does not fully control. The demand effectively made peace contingent on further conquest.
For Zelenskyy, the pressure was not only military. Poland's incoming president, Karol Nawrocki, had won on a platform opposing Ukraine's NATO bid and had openly criticized Zelenskyy during the campaign. Poland is not a peripheral ally — it is the primary logistics corridor through which Western military aid reaches Ukraine. Zelenskyy called maintaining warm relations with Warsaw "extremely important," a careful understatement that revealed just how much strain was quietly accumulating within the coalition sustaining Ukraine's defense.
On day 1,222 of the war, Russia was pressing hard on two fronts at once—military and diplomatic. In the east, around the city of Kostiantynivka, Ukrainian and Russian forces were locked in what their own commanders described as a new surge of violence. Farther south, Moscow claimed to have taken another village. And in Pyongyang, Russia's culture minister was arriving with 125 performers in tow, cementing what both capitals were calling an unprecedented partnership.
Kostiantynivka sits in the Donetsk region, which Russia has made the centerpiece of its territorial ambitions. For months, Ukrainian defenders have held the city against repeated assaults. On Saturday, Oleksandr Syrskyi, Ukraine's top military commander, posted an update on Telegram acknowledging the intensity of what was happening. The Russians were attacking across three separate sectors, he said, trying to break through the defensive lines. Syrskyi's language was careful—he noted that while the enemy was "surging towards Kostiantynivka," it was doing so at enormous cost. "Apart from sustaining numerous losses," he wrote, "has achieved nothing."
Meanwhile, Russia's defence ministry was announcing its own gains. The village of Chervona Zirka, located southwest of Kostiantynivka near the border of the Dnipropetrovsk region, had fallen to Russian forces. This fit a pattern that had defined the war's eastern phase: Moscow advancing slowly, claiming villages one by one, leaving behind destroyed cities and shattered infrastructure. The pace was glacial, but the cumulative damage was immense.
What made Saturday notable, though, was what was happening thousands of kilometers away. Olga Lyubimova, Russia's culture minister, stepped off a plane in North Korea's capital with a delegation of performers. She posted about it immediately, framing the visit as evidence of how far Russian-North Korean ties had come. "Thanks to agreements clinched between" Putin and Kim Jong-un, she wrote, cooperation between the two countries had reached "unprecedented heights." The delegation would spend the coming days giving concerts and lectures.
This was not ceremonial window dressing. Since Russia invaded Ukraine, Moscow and Pyongyang had moved from distant acquaintances to active military partners. Putin and Kim had signed a treaty that included a mutual defence clause—a binding commitment that neither would stand aside if the other faced attack. For months, both sides had kept quiet about North Korean troops fighting in Russia's war. Then, in recent weeks, they disclosed what had been happening: North Korean soldiers had been deployed to help Russia's offensive in the Kursk region, the Russian territory that Ukrainian forces had invaded and partially occupied.
Moscow's negotiating position, meanwhile, remained unchanged. For any settlement to happen, Ukraine would have to recognize Russian control over four regions: Luhansk, Donetsk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson. The catch was that Russia did not fully control any of them. Russian forces held roughly one-fifth of Ukraine's total territory, but their grip on these four regions remained incomplete—a fact that made Moscow's demand both maximalist and, by its own military logic, unachievable without further conquest.
Back in Kyiv, President Volodymyr Zelenskyy was watching developments in Poland with concern. That country's incoming president, Karol Nawrocki, had just won an election on a platform that included opposition to Ukraine's bid to join NATO. During his campaign, Nawrocki had criticized Ukraine and called Zelenskyy's behavior toward allies "indecent." Poland was not a distant observer of this war—it was one of Ukraine's closest partners and the crucial logistics corridor through which Western military aid flowed to Kyiv's forces. Zelenskyy said it was "extremely important" to maintain friendly relations with Warsaw. The implication was clear: as Russia pressed militarily and deepened its international partnerships, Ukraine's own alliance structure was showing signs of strain.
Citas Notables
The enemy is surging towards Kostiantynivka, but apart from sustaining numerous losses, has achieved nothing.— Oleksandr Syrskyi, Ukrainian commander
Cooperation in the cultural sphere between our countries has reached unprecedented heights.— Olga Lyubimova, Russia's culture minister
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does Russia keep announcing these village captures if the gains are so small?
Because territory is the only metric Moscow can claim as victory. The war has become a grinding attrition—they're measuring success in square kilometers, not strategic breakthroughs. It's slow, it's costly, but it's something they can point to.
And the North Korea visit—is that just theater, or does it signal something real?
It's both. The theater matters because it tells domestic audiences in both countries that they're winning allies while the West isolates them. But the substance is real: North Korean troops are actually fighting. This isn't a photo op; it's a military arrangement.
Why would North Korea risk that? What do they get out of it?
Access to Russian military technology, economic relief from sanctions, and a powerful ally in a region where they're otherwise isolated. For Kim, it's survival insurance. For Putin, it's manpower he desperately needs.
The Poland situation seems like a separate problem for Ukraine.
It is and it isn't. Ukraine's military survival depends on Western weapons flowing through Polish territory. If Poland's new government becomes hostile or even just indifferent, that pipeline weakens. Russia doesn't have to defeat Ukraine militarily if Ukraine's supply lines dry up.
So Ukraine is being squeezed from multiple directions at once.
Exactly. Heavy fighting in the east, a new military partnership between Russia and North Korea, and now a potential shift in one of its most important allies. It's not one crisis—it's a convergence.