On Aug. 1, 1991, a little more than three weeks before Ukraine declared independence from the Soviet Union, then-US president George H.W. Bush arrived in Kyiv to discourage Ukrainians from doing it.
In his notorious “Chicken Kiev” speech in the Ukrainian parliament, Bush lectured the stunned MPs that independence was a recipe for “suicidal nationalism,” “ethnic hatred” and “local despotism.”
The speech was a colossal blunder. Ukraine’s people were being asked to ignore centuries of oppression by decisionmakers in Moscow — at a time when the Holodomor, the Soviet-engineered “terror-famine” that killed millions of Ukrainians in 1932 and 1933, remained embedded in the living memory of many.
Illustration: Louise Ting
In December that year, Ukraine delivered its answer to Bush: 84.2 percent of eligible voters turned out for the referendum on independence, and 92.3 percent of them said yes.
However, the West’s reluctance to respect Ukraine’s desire for sovereignty was a bad omen, revealing a mindset among US and European leaders that paved the way to Russia’s full-scale invasion in February last year.
The path to war began in 1994, when Ukraine, at the West’s behest, surrendered to Russia the world’s third-largest nuclear arsenal. In exchange, Russia, the UK, and the US promised to ensure Ukraine’s territorial integrity and sovereignty.
However, how was this assurance meant to be realized? Unlike Poland and other ex-communist countries, Ukraine was not given a chance to join the EU in the 1990s, and in 2008 France and Germany blocked its admission to NATO.
When Russia annexed Crimea and occupied parts of the Donbas in 2014, then-US president Barack Obama sent blankets and other non-lethal military equipment to Ukraine. Germany responded by launching the Nord Stream 2 gas pipeline, bypassing Ukraine, even though the Ukrainian pipeline had plenty of spare capacity.
It was all another serving of “Chicken Kiev”: Russia must not be provoked, relations with the Kremlin must be protected and the Russian state must remain stable.
Time after time, Western leaders found it expedient to defer to Russia’s interests, effectively denying Ukraine’s agency as a sovereign state.
It is a mindset that persists to this day, despite the mass graves and torture chambers left behind by Russian forces in Bucha, Irpin, and countless other towns and villages across the country. Tens of thousands of Ukrainians have been killed and millions displaced since February, but Western observers, ranging from Noam Chomsky to Henry Kissinger, blame the West for Russian President Vladimir Putin’s decision to invade, or have urged Western leaders to provide Putin a diplomatic off-ramp by compelling Ukraine to give up territory.
Policymakers also seem to view Ukraine’s self-defense as a bigger problem than Russia’s genocidal aggression. At a joint press conference held during Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s recent visit to the US, the key question came last.
Should not the US “give Ukraine all capabilities it needs and liberate all territories rather sooner than later?” Ukrainian journalist Olga Koshelenko asked.
No, US President Joe Biden said, because providing offensive weapons could escalate the conflict, and the US’ European allies are “not looking to go to war with Russia.”
Ukraine could have one Patriot air-defense battery to counter Russia’s attacks on civilians and civilian infrastructure, but not the long-range missiles, Abrams tanks or F-16 jets it needs to stop the attacks at their source.
This approach is morally wrong and strategically counterproductive. It would lead to precisely the escalation that Biden and European leaders say they want to avoid, because it fails to address the core security problem.
Ukraine is not the first victim of Russia’s aggressive, nuclear-armed authoritarian regime — as Syrians, Georgians and Moldovans can attest — and it would not be the last, unless Russia is compelled to abandon imperialism, as were Germany and Japan following their defeat in World War II. Then, as now, territorial concessions led to more war, not less, in Europe and the world.
The main objective is crystal clear: Russia must lose this war and demilitarize.
However, despite the massive material and military support the West has provided to Ukraine, the fateful logic of appeasement lingers, because many Western leaders fear the consequences of Russia’s defeat more than the prospect of a defeated Ukraine.
However, anxiety about Russia’s possible fragmentation is as misplaced as the fear of the Soviet Union’s disintegration was in 1991. Nor should anyone take seriously the claim, made by Chomsky and many others, that Russia has a legitimate fear of further NATO enlargement.
Putin arguably invaded because, six months after the US’ humiliating withdrawal from Afghanistan, and two years after French President Emmanuel Macron called NATO “brain dead,” he thought the alliance was too weak to support Ukraine.
Likewise, if the war was about stopping NATO enlargement, the Russian military would not be executing civilians, looting homes and stores, and the Kremlin would be doing more than shrugging its shoulders at the imminent prospect of Sweden and Finland — with which Russia shares a 1,340km border — joining the alliance.
This war is about the survival of Ukraine and the Ukrainian people. In the words of former Israeli prime minister Golda Meir, who was born in Kyiv, “They say we must be dead. And we say we want to be alive. Between life and death, I don’t know of a compromise.”
Similarly, any compromise that rewards Russia’s aggression would lead to more lives lost. Ukraine’s people would keep fighting, because they know what would happen otherwise. After all, it already has happened in Bucha, Mariupol, Kharkiv, Kherson and countless other towns and cities.
Ukraine’s voice must be heard. Providing the military and economic resources it needs to win is the best investment in global security the world can make. After Ukraine’s victory, power-hungry dictators worldwide would think twice before following Russia’s lead — an outcome that Taiwanese would welcome.
In 1941, when the UK was fighting the Nazis alone, then-British prime minister Winston Churchill asked the US to “give us the tools, and we will finish the job.”
Ukrainian General Valery Zaluzhny makes the same plea: “I know that I can beat this enemy, but I need resources.”
He should have them. Let Ukrainians finish the job.
Yuriy Gorodnichenko is a professor of economics at the University of California, Berkeley. Anastassia Fedyk is an assistant professor of finance at the University of California, Berkeley. Ilona Sologoub, editor of VoxUkraine, is director of political and economic research at the Kyiv School of Economics.
Copyright: Project Syndicate
A gap appears to be emerging between Washington’s foreign policy elites and the broader American public on how the United States should respond to China’s rise. From my vantage working at a think tank in Washington, DC, and through regular travel around the United States, I increasingly experience two distinct discussions. This divergence — between America’s elite hawkishness and public caution — may become one of the least appreciated and most consequential external factors influencing Taiwan’s security environment in the years ahead. Within the American policy community, the dominant view of China has grown unmistakably tough. Many members of Congress, as
The Hong Kong government on Monday gazetted sweeping amendments to the implementation rules of Article 43 of its National Security Law. There was no legislative debate, no public consultation and no transition period. By the time the ink dried on the gazette, the new powers were already in force. This move effectively bypassed Hong Kong’s Legislative Council. The rules were enacted by the Hong Kong chief executive, in conjunction with the Committee for Safeguarding National Security — a body shielded from judicial review and accountable only to Beijing. What is presented as “procedural refinement” is, in substance, a shift away from
The shifting geopolitical tectonic plates of this year have placed Beijing in a profound strategic dilemma. As Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) prepares for a high-stakes summit with US President Donald Trump, the traditional power dynamics of the China-Japan-US triangle have been destabilized by the diplomatic success of Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi in Washington. For the Chinese leadership, the anxiety is two-fold: There is a visceral fear of being encircled by a hardened security alliance, and a secondary risk of being left in a vulnerable position by a transactional deal between Washington and Tokyo that might inadvertently empower Japan
After declaring Iran’s military “gone,” US President Donald Trump appealed to the UK, France, Japan and South Korea — as well as China, Iran’s strategic partner — to send minesweepers and naval forces to reopen the Strait of Hormuz. When allies balked, the request turned into a warning: NATO would face “a very bad” future if it refused. The prevailing wisdom is that Trump faces a credibility problem: having spent years insulting allies, he finds they would not rally when he needs them. That is true, but superficial, as though a structural collapse could be caused by wounded feelings. Something
RSS