Ukrainians ask what I'm hearing about our country on the US campaign trail. The truth? We're all but forgotten | Nataliya Gumenyuk

Around a month before the US elections, in the Kharkiv region, I sat down with a group of Ukrainian infantry soldiers together with the American historian Timothy Snyder. I suggested they ask questions of him not only as an American historian, but also as an American citizen.

The servicemen were curious about the upcoming election, but mainly the chances of receiving significant military aid any time soon. They expressed pity that many Americans still don’t understand that the Ukrainian fight is not just about us. It’s in the world’s interests to support the fight against blatant breaches of the international order.

The anxiety of the American elections is felt more strongly in Kyiv among Ukrainian officials and civil society leaders because Ukraine has become a partisan issue, and part of US domestic politics. These groups have been trying for years to be on good terms with both Democrats and Republicans in the US. This was especially true during the long delays in Congress over the vote for security assistance to Ukraine. But engaging with the Maga camp has become difficult. This only got worse when it was revealed what Donald Trump’s vice-presidential candidate, JD Vance, said in 2022: “I gotta be honest with you, I don’t really care what happens to Ukraine one way or another.” During the race, Vance has characterised Vladimir Putin as an “adversary” and “competitor”, rather than an enemy, and has generally argued that the US should be focusing on China, not Russia.

Then there are the claims from Trump that he could end the war in “24 hours”, presumably with a phone call to Putin. To be honest, these sort of statements don’t worry Ukrainians that much since they don’t sound remotely realistic. There are no signs the Russian president is changing his goal to destroy Ukraine as a state. What people are really worried about is the slowing down, or even stopping, of US military assistance.

In Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, one of the most important battleground states, I had a chance to talk to various Ukrainian Americans, including those from the older, more conservative diaspora, who have traditionally voted Republican. They shared strong anti-communist sentiment in the past but today are more united around ideas of faith and family values. Some of them told me they were worried by Vance’s remarks. Still, their arguments would alight elsewhere: it was the Democrat Barack Obama who didn’t firmly react to the Russian occupation of Crimea in 2014 and refused to provide military aid. Some of those narratives can be heard among conservative Ukrainians back home, too.

Ukrainians often ask me what exactly the candidates are saying about our country on the campaign trail. I had to reply that, honestly, Ukraine wasn’t being explicitly mentioned at the rallies, at least the ones I attended. In Saginaw, Michigan, a manufacturing town, Vance didn’t mention Ukraine even once, mainly warning about the risks of local workers losing their jobs because of Chinese electric vehicles. Kamala Harris, at a campaign rally in the university town of Ann Arbor, spoke of Trump’s fascination with authoritarian leaders like Putin.

Trump himself, speaking in Pennsylvania, did say at least three times that he wouldn’t spend taxpayers’ money on wars “in countries you have never heard of and don’t want to hear of”. The audience loudly cheered.

After Joe Biden dropped out of the race, some people in Kyiv hoped that he could now afford to be less cautious and use his remaining time in office to accelerate support for Ukraine. The speculation was that he would want a positive foreign policy legacy to leave behind, amid the retreat from Afghanistan and tragedy unfolding in the Middle East. By October, it became clear that the current US administration wasn’t planning on doing anything big before the election.

Some measures were taken. On 23 October, Washington finalised its $20bn portion of a $50bn loan to Ukraine backed by frozen Russian assets. This will be placed alongside a separate $20bn EU commitment and $10bn split between Britain, Japan and Canada. It is supposed to be repaid with the earnings from the more than $300bn in sovereign Russian assets that were immobilised in February 2022 and are mostly held in Europe.

But in the long run, the lives of Ukrainian soldiers depend not just on the funds for military aid but on specific types of weapons. President Zelenskyy has spent recent months lobbying in the west for his “victory plan”, which would involve the US providing long-range missiles to Ukraine, which could strike deep inside Russia – something western powers have been reluctant to approve. His argument is that this may not just turn the tide on the battlefield, but take away the burden from those suffering the most – Ukrainian infantry. Without that, the Ukrainian army is left to rely on exhausted footsoldiers. Whether or not this plan has any chance of progressing will depend in large part on who wins next week.

Right after landing in New York, a US colleague asked me if “it was all over for Ukraine if it didn’t receive US assistance after the elections”. I was puzzled by the way the question was asked. I explained that it might be extremely difficult to preserve the lives of Ukrainians if, say, Trump is elected, but it wouldn’t mean the Ukrainian army will stop trying to defend its fellow citizens or simply give up.

Travelling from one swing state to another, I detected an extreme sense of anxiety among many Americans. It was so palpable, I felt the need to comfort them. Whatever happens, on the morning of 6 November, life in Ukraine will go on. The same will be true in the US. But it doesn’t mean things will be easy. Ukrainians have learned in recent years that worrying can be a luxury; the best option is to commit yourself to working hard to avoid the worst-case scenario, and fighting for what’s right.

• Nataliya Gumenyuk is a Ukrainian journalist and CEO of the Public Interest Journalism Lab