LIVING IN UKRAINE RIGHT NOW is less about the fear that you’ll be killed at any given time, and more about the ever-present stress of never being safe. The difference between the two is that the former is an acute, specific situation, and the latter is a chronic condition that never leaves you. Every time you hear a motor accelerate, you think it might be the air sirens whirring to life. When someone at a construction site drops something heavy and metallic, you wonder if it’s a blast nearby. No sunny summer moment exists without a certain edge to it, the prospect that in the next moment people might be headed for the closest bomb shelter.
It’s been widely recognized that sleep deprivation over time is a form of torture. And the attacks of the past weeks—amid toothless American diplomacy and a dispiriting situation on the battlefield—is a form of collective torture for millions of people. No sleep, no rest—just constant anxiety about the next kamikaze drone, the next burst of machine gun fire.
On Friday, the Fourth of July, the whole city was covered by a thick level of smoke—the product of widespread fires caused by Russian attacks. This barrage of strikes managed to get through the dwindling umbrella of Ukraine’s air defense missiles—Kyiv needs to ration them due to uncertainty about American support. Trump says that it’s “too bad” that Putin doesn’t change his behavior, but the White House is actively enabling the deadly attacks.