Fire Over Kyiv - and Silence in the West: How Much Longer Will Europe Watch? - "President Trump is very well informed," Zelensky said

It was a night that sliced through the air like a glowing knife. Just before midnight, sirens began to wail in Kyiv. Minutes later, the sky over the Ukrainian capital turned into a flickering mosaic of fire columns, detonations, and crashing drones. Russia had struck again - precise, merciless, in series. The target: the vital arteries of the city. Zhuliany, the international airport in the south of Kyiv, was soon in flames. People ran screaming through the terminals. Images show a completely destroyed arrival hall, charred wreckage, debris that once represented hope and mobility. At the same time, a dozen more impacts were reported from residential areas. Ballistic missiles, drones, so-called glide bombs. It was the heaviest attack since the beginning of the year - and it came at a moment that seems anything but coincidental. Just hours earlier, the White House had "temporarily" halted the next tranche of military aid to Ukraine. The reasoning: internal review procedures. In the midst of this escalation, there was a tense phone call on July 4 between President Volodymyr Zelensky and U.S. President Donald Trump. "We discussed the Russian airstrikes and the situation on the front line. President Trump is very well informed," Zelensky said afterward. They agreed on measures to strengthen Ukraine's air defense - particularly expanding the protection of Ukrainian airspace. In addition, a close cooperation on drone production with American partners was agreed upon. "We are ready for direct projects with the U.S. - this is of vital importance for our security," Zelensky said. The call came just one day after a phone conversation between Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin. According to the Kremlin, Putin reaffirmed that Russia would "continue to pursue its goals" in Ukraine - regardless of American appeals for a ceasefire. Trump later expressed disappointment: "I don't think he's really working toward an end to the fighting." And then this: the U.S. had just halted the delivery of key weapons systems - including Patriot missiles and precision-guided artillery rounds. The official reason was a review of inventory. Kyiv issued a sharp warning that this delay would weaken air defense and embolden Moscow. New sanctions or additional aid packages have yet to be announced by the Trump administration - despite ongoing Russian aggression.

And Europe? Sitting at a round table, staring at a screen, waiting for the next statement. There are calls for de-escalation, condemnations of the attacks, evaluations of further sanctions. Words that no longer carry weight. Words that sound like mockery in Kyiv. While firefighters extinguish burning playgrounds and emergency doctors perform amputations by candlelight, an entire continent wonders: how much longer will this war be outsourced? How many more "strongest condemnations" before courage is measured? Meanwhile, on Thursday, the international political community meets in Rome for the major reconstruction conference. Friedrich Merz, as German Chancellor, will deliver the opening speech. The hosts are Italy and Ukraine, the goal: as broad international support as possible for rebuilding a country that is still burning. In parallel, Emmanuel Macron and British Prime Minister Keir Starmer are convening a video conference of the so-called "Coalition of the Willing," which - following the foreign policy retreat of the U.S. - focuses on military support for Ukraine. President Zelensky will also join in. And once again, it looms in the room - this absurd, almost grotesque simultaneity of European symbolic politics: reconstruction plans while airports explode on the same night. Rhetoric of hope while blood clings to basement stairs. A diplomatic ballroom where tomorrow is discussed while today turns to ash. It's as if one were polishing the windows of a burning house while the residents scream for help.

At this moment, the Ukrainian people stand alone. Alone with their courage. Alone with their pain. And increasingly alone with their anger. Because what happened last night was not a "military target," not a "collateral damage," not a "part of war" - it was terror. The deliberate attempt to paralyze a city, to break a country, to demoralize a people. Airports are destroyed to close the doors to the West. Residential buildings are struck to devalue life itself. And all this is done under a veil of silence - diplomatically supported by an America that counts its weapons and measures its words. So the unavoidable question arises: what exactly is the strategy? What does it mean when the two most aggressive men of our time speak for an hour - precisely at the moment when arms shipments stop and bombs start falling? And what will Europe do if Kyiv falls? If Odesa burns? If Putin continues his march westward - not in words, but in tanks? It is often said this war is a "test." For Ukraine, for NATO, for international law. But perhaps it is already more than that. Perhaps it is the mirror in which we see what remains of our moral self-assurance when rockets strike in the dark. And perhaps what we see there is less reassuring than we ever imagined.