As Trump suspends military aid, what are the chokeholds on Ukraine?

Editor’s note (March 4th 2025): This story has been updated.

IN A SLEEK business tower in Kyiv, a group of engineers huddle around a new, carbon black attack drone called Batyar, the “rogue”. It looks a near analogue of the Iranian-Russian Shahed drones that have been terrorising Ukrainian cities for the past few months. With a range of up to 1,500km, a cost of just $25,000, and an optical terrain-recognition system that renders it resistant to most electronic jamming, the model is likely to offer its Russian rival stiff competition. It is the joint effort of Ukrainian and American firms, one of many collaborations where technology is shared and refined in combat. “Big American corporations are frightened,” says the Ukrainian officer co-ordinating the project. “They know that they can’t compete.”

The war has made Ukraine a world leader in drone technologies—superseding many Western weapons, such as Javelin anti-tank missiles. Yet its war effort remains deeply reliant on European and American military support. Late on March 3rd the White House suspended all military aid to Ukraine, until the government in Kyiv showed more of a commitment to Donald Trump’s plans for peace. Rumours of such a move began before the meeting of Donald Trump and Volodymyr Zelensky in the Oval Office on February 28th. No wonder Ukraine is anxious. “No one wants to believe in the worst-case scenario,” says a source close to the military leadership, “but there is worry that some items will be simply impossible to replace.” Essential American equipment includes Patriot air-defence missiles. It is not clear whether America will halt other vital assistance, such as access to Starlink satellites and sharing intelligence on targets deep in Russia.

The critical elements of American support are weapons; the ability to maintain and repair them; the air-defence missiles that keep cities functioning; the Starlink system that is the backbone of military communications; and, perhaps most critically, intelligence sharing. Ukrainian soldiers know what follows when the flow of American weapons dries up. In late 2023, Donald Trump instructed Republicans in Congress to hold up approval of the next package of military aid. The consequent shortage of shells continued for six months. Senior-Lieutenant Nazary Kishak was one of the soldiers who saw that afflict the front lines. In Bakhmut the Russians used a 10:1 artillery advantage to kill some of Ukraine’s best officers and destroy the city completely. Many Ukrainians lost their lives needlessly, he says.

Ukraine can substitute a lot of artillery firepower with its own drone systems. In this respect, it is simply a matter of finding the money: the local defence industries are running below full capacity. Ukrainian drones have proven themselves on the battlefield, are often more effective than artillery, and come at a fraction of the cost. Artillery, however, still has its place, and the dozens of new systems rolling off Ukrainian production lines every month will be of limited use without shells. The loss of American Bradley fighting vehicles would be just as damaging. The end of GPS-guided GMLRS rockets would also give Russia much greater freedom of manoeuvre tens of kilometres behind the front lines. Lieutenant Kishak says a stop order on such weapons would simply result in “more Bakhmuts” and more dead Ukrainians.

Ammunition flows are less important than other components of American assistance. Only America is able to produce high-end weapons like the Patriot missiles that can intercept the Russian hypersonic and ballistic missiles raining down on cities. On paper, the French/Italian SAMP/T system could be a substitute, if it could be produced at scale. In practice, the system is unable to neutralise the fastest missiles, though a more advanced version is expected next year. Halting supplies of Patriot missiles would see more of Ukraine subjected to the kind of destruction experienced in cities near the front, such as Kharkiv, where it is generally too dangerous to deploy the expensive systems. Other sources of Patriot interceptors might be available—America has been working to enable Japan to co-produce these, for instance—but probably not in large numbers. And America would need to approve any transfer.

The Starlink satellite network is paid for by Poland, but controlled by the Americans. The Ukrainians have produced workarounds before—not least during operations in Russia’s Kursk region, where Starlink systems are mostly disabled. Here, engineers used mobile technologies and drone relays to provide soldiers with communications. A Ukrainian official says a back-up using similar technologies is in the works. “We have one that could roll out in days, a more extensive solution in three months.” But the switch would be difficult and leave the Ukrainians without one of their key battlefield advantages. Lieutenant Kishak, who led some operations in Kursk, says the alternative systems are inferior in important aspects, not least their susceptibility to Russian electronic warfare.

Most vital of all is American intelligence, which is provided via NATO arrangements. This is what allows the country’s armed forces to see all manner of threats: Russian planes when they are about to strike; Russian forces as they prepare to launch new invasions; the flow of Russian, Iranian and North Korean weapons; the stores, logistics and operational hubs of the Russian war machine. It allows Ukraine to guide, in real time, rockets and drones to targets inside Russia. Ukrainian drones can see in the short distance behind the current front lines. But American eyes let them see deep. American officials in Europe Command (EUCOM), which oversees all American forces on the continent, use artificial intelligence to fuse data from satellite images, electronic intelligence and other sources to identify high-value targets. A Western military official says Europe might be able to provide some of the capability—Britain, for example, routinely flies Rivet Joint surveillance aircraft over the Black Sea—but not quite as quickly. “With this kind of warfare, it’s all about timing. Without US intelligence, Ukraine will struggle with dynamic targeting,” a phrase that refers to seeing and striking new targets as they appear.

Despite the ominous signs, Ukrainian officials decline to make apocalyptic predictions. Arms production in key election states might also make it hard for Mr Trump to halt aid completely. But part of the assurance stems from a quiet confidence that Ukraine is managing to stabilise its eastern front. Precision strikes on logistics and fuel depots deep inside Russia have been successful. Ukraine’s army also appears to be in a more effective fighting shape under a new operational commander, Mykhailo Drapaty. Denys Yaroslavsky, a reconnaissance officer in Kharkiv, says Ukrainian brigades could potentially withstand future Russian offensives even if American aid dries up. Another senior Ukrainian predicts, “there will be a slow decline, and perhaps the front line may recede somewhat, but there will be no tragedy.”

For those involved in Ukraine’s defence industries, the psychological blow might be as damaging as the material one. It would feel like a betrayal, they say—especially for those accustomed to the seamless technological collaboration seen in projects like the Batyar drone. Sergiy Koshman, a prominent figure in Ukraine’s mil-tech sector suggests a rupture would hurt the West, too. “Americans have been developing and testing their own capabilities here. If the worst comes to pass and our partners prove unreliable, we will have to make our choices accordingly. As a result of this scenario everyone in the West will be a loser.” 

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