Putin may think bombardment will force Ukrainians into capitulation, but surveys show something very different is happening.
By Kateryna Odarchenko for CEPA
In the midst of a worsening full-scale war that has upended everyday life and tested the survival of the state, one might expect Ukrainians to increasingly favor peace and perhaps even concessions to buy off their Russian tormentors.
After all, Russian attacks on Ukrainian communities are proliferating. The number of drones and missiles raining down reached new records more than once during July, and is forecast to become heavier as long-range drone output rises, significantly aided by Chinese engineers.
Yet Ukrainians are not buckling, with recent data from the Kyiv International Institute of Sociology (KIIS) revealing the opposite. As of May, 46% of Ukrainians say they prioritize freedom over personal safety.
This marks a sharp rise from 35% in August 2022 and suggests a deepening civic resilience rather than a drift toward authoritarian comfort. Amid missiles, martial law, and trauma, Ukrainians are defining freedom not as a luxury of peacetime, but as a core identity in war.
What explains this civic determination?
KIIS’s research paints a clear picture of Ukraine’s evolving civic values. Since 2016, the share of Ukrainians expecting the state to “take full responsibility for every person” has dropped from 45% to 35%. Meanwhile, the belief in equal opportunity — that “the state should provide equal starting conditions, and then individuals succeed through effort” — rose from 48% to 58%.
A similar dynamic is visible in attitudes toward freedom and prosperity. In 2017, 30% of Ukrainians favored “a country with limited freedom but high prosperity” over one “with guaranteed freedoms even if prosperity is lower.” By 2023, that number declined to 24%. While economic hardship has only intensified, Ukrainians appear increasingly unwilling to trade liberty for stability.
What we are seeing is not just resistance to Russian invasion, but the consolidation of a post-Soviet political identity. Ukrainians are becoming more than citizens of a state — they are agents within a civic community that values autonomy, fairness, and dignity over paternalism.
This shift in values is especially striking in light of Ukraine’s recent history. The legacy of Soviet collectivism, the economic disillusionment of the 1990s, and cycles of failed reform all once tilted the public toward skepticism or resignation. The war, paradoxically, has clarified what Ukrainians are willing to fight for.
Yet these convictions are not evenly distributed. The 2024 KIIS survey reveals clear differences by sex, age, and geography:
- Sex: 52% of men prioritize freedom over safety, compared to 41% of women.
- Age: Among young people (18–29), 51% put freedom first. That figure declines with age: 48% ( for those aged 30–39), 47% (40–49), 42% (50–59), and 42.5% (60-plus).
- Region: In Ukraine’s east — closer to the front lines—respondents are more likely to choose security over freedom (38% vs. 34%). In western and central Ukraine, the majority favor freedom.
These divergences are understandable. Women and older people — who often bear more caregiving burdens or recall past collapses — tend to seek stability. In the east, proximity to active combat understandably shifts preferences toward immediate survival. And overall, 34% of Ukrainians say they would be willing to give up some of their rights and civil liberties to the state in exchange for greater security. However, they are now a minority, and the consistent pro-freedom stance among young people across the country is especially telling.
This generational divide points toward Ukraine’s future. If the country’s younger citizens — its teachers, soldiers, and voters of tomorrow — are prioritizing freedom even now, the long-term trajectory is clear. The war is forging a more liberal, self-directed civic culture — not eroding it.
Ukrainians’ top values are freedom, security, and justice. This triad reveals a nuanced worldview: freedom is essential, but not at the expense of law and order. Security matters, but not if it comes through repression. Citizens want a country where they are safe and sovereign — both politically and personally.
Trust in institutions also reflects this mindset. The most trusted entities are the Armed Forces of Ukraine, volunteers, and the emergency services — all seen as functional, mission-driven, and close to the people. Conversely, political parties, courts, and the state bureaucracy rank lower.
Emotional states are mixed. With an average psychological self-rating of 5.9 out of 10, and 40% of respondents describing themselves as feeling an internal tension or negativity, according to a recent survey by Razumkov Centre, and war fatigue is evident. But this psychological burden has not pushed people into despair or authoritarian nostalgia.
For Ukrainians, trust and emotional resilience are concentrated in places where agency and dignity still exist: horizontal networks, frontline defense, and grassroots organizations. Where institutional failure persists, informal civic infrastructure has filled the gap.
This is not altogether unknown. The British population showed similar traits during its Second World War bombardment by Nazi Germany, the so-called Blitz spirit, and German morale held up for a long time under severe Allied attack.
But there is something very distinctive in the Ukrainian experience. Civic researchers like Tamara Pechonych and Taras Kebabuldze documented as early as 2018 that Ukrainians had internalized freedom as a moral and national imperative. Focus groups consistently rated “freedom” as Ukraine’s defining feature — contrasting it to Russia’s coercive culture. Kebabuldze observed that Ukrainians rejected the binary of order vs. chaos. Instead, they imagined a society where freedom and justice coexisted.
This internal civic grammar now shapes wartime behavior. Even under martial law, Ukrainians continue to expect transparency, civil liberties, and pluralism. They are building democratic resilience, not merely enduring authoritarian necessity.
This civic orientation carries both promise and risk for the post-war era. On the one hand, it provides fertile ground for reform, innovation, and inclusive development. Citizens who demand accountability will not tolerate a return to the oligarchic politics or state capture of the past. Veterans, especially, will emerge as civic actors with a deep sense of legitimacy and expectation.
On the other hand, these same expectations could become a source of disillusionment if post-war reconstruction reproduces elite privilege, corruption, or bureaucratic inertia. Ukrainians have not sacrificed for a state — they have sacrificed for a vision of civic dignity. Failure to deliver on that promise could spark unrest or cynicism.
If Western allies wish to support this process, these sociological insights offer a clear direction for future support.
A true and strong democratic society of free citizens benefits from informed individuals willing to engage in civic society. Veteran reintegration will be key, and so will aid projects based on accountability, not hierarchy. Strong institutions, not strongmen, are the answer.
In the third year of full-scale war, Ukraine is not collapsing into fear. Its people are staying strong in a time of missiles and displacement.
This is not just resilience. It is a national identity forged in struggle. If Ukraine wins this war, it will be because its people chose not only to survive, but to remain free.