In London’s Damp Light, a Plea to Finish the Job
When Volodymyr Zelensky stepped out of the black car and into London’s grey, he was met with a scene that felt both ceremonial and urgent: a small guard of honour, King Charles III exchanging words, and the narrow, familiar stoop of Downing Street that has seen countless political dramas. For a moment the city’s drizzle seemed to hush; the optics mattered. So did the message—delivered in a voice that sounded as if it had no room for equivocation.
“There is further we can do,” said Britain’s Prime Minister, Keir Starmer, clasping Zelensky in a hug that was half consolation, half shared resolve. “Particularly on long-range capability, and the vital coalition work on security guarantees.” The words were simple, but the stakes behind them were not: how to turn frozen Russian money and international outrage into the tools that will keep Ukraine standing.
Coalitions, Cash and a Question of Justice
The scene in London was part summit, part theatre. Dozens of world leaders—some in person, many joining remotely—convened to argue over the same knotty question: what to do with the roughly €200 billion of Russian central bank assets now immobilised across Europe since the full-scale invasion began in 2022.
Brussels has floated a jaw-dropping option: a €140 billion “reparations loan” that would be backed by those frozen reserves and channelled to sustain Ukraine’s defence and rebuild its economy for years to come. The European Commission was tasked to produce options for funding Ukraine for another two years, a bureaucratic nudge that leaves the door open but not yet unlocked.
“It’s political support with caveats,” said Ana Petrovic, an EU diplomat who asked to speak off the record. “Member states want to help, but no one wants to be the first to set a legal precedent by converting frozen sovereign assets into loans.”
Numbers That Matter
- Approx. €200 billion: frozen Russian central bank assets in the EU’s sights
- €140 billion: a proposed size of the so-called reparations loan under consideration
- 5,000+: the UK’s ambitious target to manufacture air-defence missiles for Ukraine
- 140: the number of lightweight multirole missiles Downing Street says will be delivered this winter
A Diplomatic Patchwork: Allies in Tandem, Not in Lockstep
For all the shared declarations, the gathering in London also laid bare divisions. Belgium—where large tranches of those frozen assets sit—has raised legal alarms. Hungary, ever the outlier in EU foreign policy, withheld backing for the Brussels conclusions. And in Washington last week, Zelensky’s request for long-range Tomahawk missiles met a rebuff from President Donald Trump, who appeared preoccupied with the prospects for a separate diplomatic opening with Moscow.
“We need unity, not ambiguity,” said Starmer, leaning toward a public line that Britain would work “in tandem with the EU” to unlock funding and push forward defence capabilities. “Let’s finish the job that was started.”
It is a tall order: rallying democracies that all have different electorates, legal systems, and appetites for confrontation with Moscow is like conducting an orchestra where half the players have different sheet music.
Weapons on the Table—and Off It
At the heart of the discussion lies military capability. Ukraine has been begging for long-range systems that could strike deep into Russian-held territory, a move Kyiv argues would help blunt the Kremlin’s logistics and protect civilians. The UK and France already supply Storm Shadow and Scalp missiles. Ukraine fields its own Flamingo and Neptune systems. Germany has, to date, resisted sending Taurus missiles—citing fears the move could escalate tensions.
“Weapons are not just metal and guidance systems,” said Dr. Nikhil Rao, a defence analyst at King’s College London. “They are signals. Sending a long-range system says you are changing the geometry of the battlefield and your red lines.”
In London, Starmer announced an “acceleration” of British production of air-defence missiles, an industrial effort designed to churn out more than 5,000 interceptors for Ukraine over time. Downing Street says about 140 lightweight multirole missiles will arrive this winter—meant to shore up Kyiv’s battered skies as Russia keeps targeting Ukraine’s energy infrastructure.
On the Ground, in the Cafés
Outside the political thrumming, Londoners offered quieter reflections. “We watch the news and then we get on with our lives,” said Mariam, who runs a small café near Westminster. “But everyone I know wants to see Ukraine win. It feels like a test of whether international law means anything.”
Across Windsor, where the king greeted the Ukrainian president for the third time this year, the pomp made for a poignant counterpoint to the images arriving from cities blacked out by strikes. A Windsor baker, polishing scones behind the counter, posed a question simple and blunt: “Are we doing enough fast enough?”
Beyond the Headlines: What This Means Globally
There are bigger currents sweeping under the immediate exchange of handshakes and policy papers. The debate over frozen assets touches the idea of sovereign immunity and the limits of sanctions. The push to arm Ukraine intersects with fears of escalation and the political winds in democracies weary of long distant wars. Russia’s economy—under fresh EU and US energy sanctions announced this week—looks to be under concerted pressure, but sanctions alone do not win wars.
And then there is public opinion. Leaders must answer voters who often see humanitarian suffering in one light and economic pain at home in another. Can Western democracies sustain a campaign of financial and military support that will take years to bear strategic fruit? That is the question echoing down the halls of power.
What Next? Choices, Chances and the Long Haul
For now, the pledges are earnest and the rhetoric strong. But the legal work to turn frozen reserves into lasting funding, the industrial push to produce thousands of missiles, and the political will to maintain a united front all remain things to be built, day by day.
“We are at a hinge moment,” said an unnamed British minister. “Will we move from words to structures that last? That determines not just Ukraine’s fate, but the credibility of collective security in Europe.”
So I ask you, reader: when faced with the moral imperative to support a nation fighting for its borders, how much risk are we willing to shoulder? And how patient must the world be when constructing instruments of justice, reparation and defence?
In the short term, London’s message was clear: finish what we started. In the longer term, the question is whether dozens of capitals can stitch together an answer that is legally sound, politically sustainable, and morally coherent—before the next winter of missiles and blackouts descends.
