The Ukrainian theme in the United States is ubiquitous: speeches on Capitol Hill, high-profile votes, the Ukraine Action Summit held twice a year, and appearances on national television. Sociology again inspires optimism: the share of Americans who believe that the U.S. is doing too little for Ukraine has reached its highest level in three years — 46% in March and again 46% at the end of August 2025; the share of those who say “too much” is smaller (30% in March and 25% in August). These are good news, because they indicate an unclosed, “open” space for expanding support.
But anyone who looks deeper gets a different feeling. Ukraine in America is visible but not influential. Visibility gives us occasional headlines. Influence requires trust, habit, and the ability to speak to people in their language. And that is where the seam tears.
Between Sympathy and Emptiness
A Pew poll in April 2025 showed that 44% of Americans believe the U.S. has a responsibility to help Ukraine defend itself. The number is not staggering, but it is steady; at the same time, the political asymmetry is sharp: about two-thirds of Democrats are “in favor,” while among Republicans — only about a quarter. This means that support depends heavily on ideological frameworks, and without work with “other audiences,” it will remain fragile.
In August 2025, the Chicago Council published results showing a sharp surge in Republican support for aid to Ukraine: 51% in favor, up by 21 points. This is an important signal: even where we are used to seeing skepticism, there is a window of opportunity — if one explains things correctly and works with the right communities.
The numbers contradict each other, but do not cancel each other out. Rather, they show that American support is not a rock, but a current. It can expand or narrow — depending on how one works with people. Today there is a space “for Ukraine,” as well as the question — who and how fills it.
Diplomacy Is Not Communication
A sober clarification is in order. The work of the ambassador and diplomats is governmental interaction. They speak with the State Department, the White House, congressional committees, governors; their results are measured by documents, meetings, and protocols. At least, that is their duty within official responsibilities — and here Ukrainian diplomats often perform superhumanly.
But alongside this, there is another America — social, cultural, emotional. This is where trust, empathy, and the habit of support are formed; this is where readiness arises to vote for politicians who support Ukraine, to donate, volunteer, debate in universities, create projects in cities and churches. This field does not belong to diplomats — it belongs to communities, organizations, diaspora media, artists, and university networks. The problem is not that the ambassador has not “gone to the people,” but that there is no architecture through which the people of Ukraine could speak to the people of America. From this lacuna arises our main communicational sag.
Advocacy vs. Communication: The Language of Offices and the Language of People
The Ukraine Action Summit is an unquestionable success as an advocacy tool. In the spring of 2025, more than 600 participants from 49 states and Puerto Rico came to Washington — the geography impresses. But it is, essentially, the language of offices: delegation trainings, priorities, series of meetings on Capitol Hill. It is necessary and effective, but not enough if, outside of Washington, we are not consolidating meanings and cultivating new audiences.
Communication is a completely different craft. It begins with the question, “Who are our people in Arizona, Iowa, North Carolina?” It continues through partnerships with local media, history teachers, pastors, student organizations, and football leagues — and ends when the Ukrainian story becomes part of American everyday life, not just foreign policy.
When this fabric is missing, the vacuum is quickly filled by others — internal critics (“too expensive,” “someone else’s war”), external actors working through their content ecosystems, and numerous enemies, foremost among them the Russian and pro-Russian contingent. And then we again find ourselves in the role of “firefighters” — those who react rather than shape the agenda.
The Diaspora as an Unfinished Bridge
According to recent estimates, over one million Americans identify as being of Ukrainian descent. By 2019, about 355 000 people born in Ukraine lived in the U.S. (not counting the new wave after 2022). This is not a “small sect,” but a mass of people scattered across the country, with different histories and resources. One would think nothing prevents deeper mutual integration. Yet this bridge remains unfinished: newcomers live in temporariness, the “old” communities remain in the inertia of their own rituals, and the Ukrainian state still lacks a mechanism capable of channeling these energies amid war and struggle.
In practice, this means that in every state a few dozen activists are carrying heavy and exhausting work — from meetings with congressmen to fundraising for the Armed Forces of Ukraine — and it is not reinforced by content that would decode Ukraine for non-Ukrainian neighbors. And without such content, advocacy gets tired.
When They Support but Don’t Live Beside You
Our messages often get stuck in three traps.
First, the language “for our own.” We speak in a system of arguments understood by those who already sympathize. But in many states most people have no emotional map of Ukraine. They do not read international news, but they listen to local radio and TV, go to church, watch NFL highlights and TikToks about their mayor. If we don’t speak into those ears — we simply don’t exist for them.
Second, the absence of “translators.” A translator is a person or institution capable of collecting and adapting the meaning of “why Ukraine matters” for a specific audience: farmers in Nebraska (supply chains and fuel prices), tech workers in Texas (cybersecurity and defense startups), pastors in Georgia (the moral dimension of protecting the weak), parents in Ohio (children abducted by Russia and the theme of justice). When there are few such translators, we lose breadth.
Third, economizing on “slow” formats. Serial stories, local film clubs, school lessons, library exhibits, college debates — this is tedious but transformative work. It turns support into a habit, not a flash. Too often we choose a quick post over a slow project — and lose depth.
Politics That Plays With Us
When Ukraine is not integrated into American life, it becomes a tool in others’ campaigns. At best, we are used as a moral marker (“America’s strength / defense of democracy”); at worst — as an object of fatigue (“why are we paying for someone else’s war?”). Tellingly, perceptions of Russia are also “softening”: in the spring of 2025, only half of Americans called Russia an enemy. In 2024, there were significantly more — and the change is especially sharp among Republicans. This does not mean sympathy for the Kremlin, but it shows that the very framework of discussion is fluid, and can be steered.
We need a bipartisan narrative that does not dissolve in electoral cycles and retains meaning regardless of who is in the White House. And again — this is a task not only for diplomats, but primarily for communities that work with people, and therefore with their representatives in government.
Why Good Numbers Are Not Yet a Victory
When Gallup records that 46% of Americans want a more active U.S. role, that is not a guarantee of tomorrow’s congressional vote — it is potential. To turn it into concrete decisions, synchronization is needed: advocacy in offices plus communication in communities plus content that makes Ukraine understandable. We need a mechanism in which data becomes fuel for campaigns: we see growth among Republicans — so we prepare a series of events in their districts; we see skepticism among youth — we launch TikTok projects in cooperation with local creators and veterans who have been to Ukraine; we see “confusion” around sanctions — we explain their local meaning through business cases.
Who Should Do What
Separate the roles — and connect them. Diplomats work with the government — and that is right. But alongside that should exist a civic infrastructure of communication, independent of political weather in Kyiv. These are diaspora media hubs, university networks, interfaith initiatives, cultural platforms. Their work is to use the language of people to explain that Ukraine is not a distant abstraction, but a relatable story, a useful partner, a source of moral solidarity.
Go beyond “our own.” The real test is conversation with audiences where there is not a single Ukrainian. This means joint projects with African-American churches in Georgia, with Latino communities in Arizona, with farmers’ associations in Iowa, with veterans’ organizations in Ohio. Each of these groups needs a different set of arguments and different messengers.
Invest in slow formats. A Facebook post disappears in a day. A documentary film club in a city library leaves a mark for years. Cooperation with history teachers multiplies the effect in hundreds of classrooms. Fellowship programs for young American journalists traveling to Ukraine create “translators” who will work for decades.
Align the messages. We need a concise canon of answers to key questions — about the cost of aid, corruption, “peace at any price,” and “why this matters to us here, in Texas / Ohio / Michigan.” Not as propaganda, but as honest, verified fact-checking: with open sources, local examples, and practical relevance.
Work with local media. The network of local TV and radio stations in the U.S. is the capillary system of society. Stories of people who moved from Kharkiv to Scranton or from Mariupol to Sacramento, joint pieces with local newsrooms, collaborative podcasts with community hosts — all this gradually builds Ukraine into the daily information diet.
Reinforce the Summit with social campaigns. The Ukraine Action Summit is a strong entry point into Washington. Add to it a week of field communications across the states: public lectures at universities, film screenings, interfaith prayers for prisoners and abducted children, charitable sports events. Let each summit leave a trace in communities, not only in the corridors of Capitol Hill. Add live broadcasts from the Hill — show the scale and the diversity of Ukraine’s voice in America.
Engage the “new diaspora.” Those who arrived after 2022 bring energy, language, media literacy, and networks. Their pain is fresh; they have seen the war and are ready to work. They need legal steps (status allowing official participation), and social and media steps (opportunities to create English-language content for non-Ukrainian audiences). Build those steps — and the landscape will change.
Instrumental Realism Instead of Fatalism
This text is not about “everything is lost.” On the contrary — we have historically high starting positions. Large segments of Americans want to help Ukraine more. Among Republicans, there is growing readiness to rethink the role of the U.S. Hundreds of people from all states come to Washington and knock on their representatives’ doors. That is a lot for a country that, just ten years ago, much of America could barely find on the map.
The problem is different: we have not yet learned to translate this visibility into strategic depth. And the answer is not in searching for a “magic message,” nor in projecting all hopes onto a single ambassador or minister. The answer is in building infrastructure between governmental diplomacy and civic communication. Yes, it is duller than a high-profile visit and slower than a viral video. But infrastructure is what holds weight.
A Ukraine Worth Supporting for the Long Run
America needs not only a reason why to support Ukraine today, but an idea of how to live with Ukraine tomorrow. That is what strategic communication really means: to explain that we are not only about war, but about shared future — about energy and technology, security and education, agro-innovation and culture, about people who create things America needs.
When Ukraine enters everyday conversations, it ceases to be “a budget expense” and becomes a habit of solidarity. When Americans engage not only through CNN and congressional hearings, but through libraries, universities, stadiums, and Sunday schools — we suddenly discover that “pro-Ukrainian voices” are everywhere. When we are not ashamed of simple stories and do not devalue “slow” formats — the very fabric of perception begins to change.
We are neither losing nor winning an “information war” — that metaphor is too crude for such a complex, continent-sized country. We are either integrating into American life, or remaining in its news cycle, which fades quickly. Today the data say the window is open. Tomorrow it may become narrower — or wider. And it depends on us whether we learn to speak with Americans. Because in the end, it is Americans who decide whom Congress applauds.
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