In a high-stakes diplomatic visit to the United States last week, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy presented his "victory plan" to key American leaders, including President Joe Biden, Vice-President Kamala Harris, and former President Donald Trump, now facing Mrs. Harris in the 2024 presidential election. Zelenskyy’s message was clear: Western countries must assist Ukraine in achieving peace on its own terms, despite mounting pressure from some allies to begin peace negotiations. These calls for diplomacy, though increasingly widespread, overlook a critical factor — the futility of a rushed peace deal without robust security guarantees for Ukraine.
Such an agreement, devoid of mechanisms to deter future Russian aggression, almost certainly prevents the possibility of lasting peace in the region, and by jeopardising Ukraine’s reconstruction, further reinforce long-term security risks to Europe.
While calls for peace negotiations have mainly come in the past two years from countries less sympathetic to Ukraine, such as Hungary, South Africa, or most recently Brazil and China, this pressure has increasingly spread to Ukraine's traditional allies. German Chancellor Olaf Scholz, whose government remains one of Ukraine’s most important backers despite political controversies, recently advised that the moment “had come” for negotiations between Ukraine and Russia. Even Czech President Peter Pavel, a staunch supporter of Ukraine, conceded that Kyiv needed to accept that any realistic peace deal would likely see Ukraine struggling to retain its entire territory.
Some of the most alarming declarations, however, came from the United States, where the stakes for Ukraine’s future are higher than ever. Figures like Donald Trump and Ohio Senator J.D. Vance, known for their rather friendly outlook towards Moscow, have openly suggested that Ukraine should cede territory and accept a frozen conflict, in the name of an expedient resolution of the three-year full-scale war.
Of course, not all nations attacked by a foreign power regain full territorial integrity or see justice for the invader's crimes. Kuwait’s restoration after the 1991 Gulf War is a rare exception; more often, conflicts end in compromise, as seen in Finland after 1940, South Korea post-1953, or Chechnya in the 1990s — all accepting deeply imperfect peace settlements against their aggressor.
However, the long-term stability of these peace agreements has depended heavily on two key factors: the aggressor’s desire to continue subjugation and the presence of effective deterrence. In Finland’s case, the Soviet Union’s ambition to dominate eventually waned, allowing a laborious but lasting peace to emerge. By contrast, in Korea, where the North’s ambitions to conquer the South remained, peace has only been preserved through the strong deterrence provided by a substantial U.S. military presence.
The most perilous scenario, however, is when the aggressor's desire for control persists and no adequate deterrence is in place, as seen in Chechnya throughout the 1990s. Here, Russia's unbroken resolve to dominate, coupled with the lack of effective security guarantees, led to a brief and unstable peace that collapsed into a far more destructive second invasion, ending in the complete subjugation of Chechnya. Ukraine undoubtedly fits in this category, with Russian leadership and much of its society viewing Ukraine as an intrinsic part of a Greater Russia.
Without strong deterrence or a fundamental shift in the aggressor’s reasoning, Ukrainians know that war will inevitably return. They have lived this reality, engaging in peace talks with Russia throughout their history, only to face renewed aggression. In 1918, after securing independence, Ukrainians entered negotiations with the Bolsheviks, but soon found themselves invaded and forcibly absorbed into the Soviet Union. Similarly, the Minsk agreements of 2014 showcased the limit of Western commitment to Ukrainian territorial integrity, and enabled Russia’s full-scale invasion in 2022.
For Ukrainians, these experiences are not distant history; they understand, perhaps more deeply than anyone, the bitter reality that Russia’s imperial identity is bound to the subjugation of its neighbours. They have learned through painful experience that without solid security guarantees, any peace deal with Russia is merely a temporary pause before further attempts at domination.
Applying these historical lessons to the present, it is clear that a rushed peace deal, without concrete security guarantees—ones that would decisively prevent future Russian invasions—will leave Ukrainians trapped in a fragile and temporary peace, fully aware that war will return. This perception has profound and far-reaching implications for Ukraine’s society, that have in turn critical consequences on Ukraine’s future security, and through it – on the security of Europe.
Currently, the primary guarantor of Ukraine’s security is its own armed forces, which in turn rely on the strength of the nation's demography, economy, institutions, and the will of its people.
However, Ukraine's demographic situation is dire: internal projections put Ukraine’s population at a catastrophic 28 million, from 44 million in 2021. Current birth rates are abysmal, and while 65% of the millions of Ukrainians exiled abroad wish to return home one day – a key resource that Ukrainian planners count on for the country’s post-war reconstruction – this is very unlikely without solid security guarantees. Families who have fled are unlikely to return, and additional men—fearing the re-imposition of wartime travel restrictions—may also choose to leave following a temporary lull in conflict.
A rushed peace deal will leave Ukrainians trapped in a fragile and temporary peace, fully aware that war will return. This perception has profound and far-reaching implications for Ukraine’s future security.
Economically, the necessity of maintaining a large military presence will impose a heavy burden on the nation, with the mobilisation of a significant portion of the workforce hindering Ukraine’s full economic recovery. Furthermore, the much-anticipated reconstruction of Ukraine, which is critical for its future prosperity, will struggle to attract private investment if security guarantees are absent. Investors will hesitate to commit resources to a country perceived as vulnerable to renewed conflict, further stalling rebuilding efforts which may prove themselves in the end to be more official talk than action.
At the same time, Ukraine’s institutions, which will likely remain focused on the immediate security situation, will struggle to address other critical issues, such as fighting corruption, fostering inclusive governance, and advancing internal reforms. These factors could stifle the efforts of the country’s remarkable civil society, which aim to further distance Ukraine from its Soviet past and heritage of corruption and poor governance, in order to maximise the resources available for national defence.
Finally, in such a context where Ukraine’s core war aims remain unfulfilled, its society may become demoralised, less resilient, and less capable of resisting renewed aggression. This would signal the collapse of the entire vision of a nation. In 2022, Ukrainians rushed to enlistment centres, endured bombardments, blackouts, poverty, consented to unimaginable sacrifices, all in pursuit of a vision for a new Ukraine—one where future generations could live in peace and prosperity, in a free and democratic country, firmly anchored to Europe and Western values after decades of Russian and Soviet domination.
However, a rushed peace deal that lacks robust security guarantees threatens to dismantle this vision. It fosters hopelessness, sombreness, cynicism, potentially leading to effects similar to those seen in Georgia, where an influential minority, starting with the ruling government, have resigned themselves to inevitable subjugation following the 2008 Russian invasion. Ukrainian society, scarred and traumatised by two and a half years of full-scale war with tens of thousands killed and wounded, may be more divided on the question of repeating this sacrifice if objective balances of power and probability of prevailing have not changed.
Thus, a reinvigorated Russia, having faced no meaningful punishment for its aggression, aided in evading sanctions by those in the West eager to return to “business as usual”, refinanced by continued energy sales to Europe, and rearmed with the help of uninhibited autocratic allies could end up fully conquer a weakened Ukraine. The historical precedent of France in the 20th century illustrates how the collapse of a seemingly resilient defence can occur in a non-linear fashion; after four years of gruelling trench warfare during World War I, France experienced a shocking defeat within just a month in 1940.
For Ukraine, these scenarios remain possibilities, not certainties. An optimist could envision Ukraine emerging from the war as a strong power, blending robust technological advancement with strong military deterrence. This model, while one of the more promising pathways for Ukraine’s future, would require significant internal reforms and sustained international backing. However, when viewed as a whole, the risks to Ukraine’s long-term security are severe, and overshadow any reason for optimism.
Such a perspective presents daunting threats to Europe’s security environment, at a time where America’s return to isolationism depends on an election whose outcome remains a coin toss. The contribution of Ukraine to Europeans’ security until now cannot be overstated; Ukrainian soldiers have worn-down Russia's professional army, decimated Soviet-era stockpiles of military equipment, and struck at targets that would otherwise be labeled for nuclear strikes in NATO’s strategic planning.
However, notwithstanding the courage of individual Ukrainian soldiers, resistance of such intensity in a second iteration of this war cannot be taken for granted. A future with a more vulnerable Ukraine – assuming European states recognise the threat – would establish an even more urgent need for significant investment in European defence capabilities. While some in Europe may take Ukraine’s current resilience as a base case for Ukraine’s resistance in a future conflict, Ukraine weakened internally by the absence of firm security guarantees runs the risk of being far more fragile than assumed.
Faced with this scenario, Europe and its transatlantic allies must recognise the inextricable link between Ukrainian security and their own. A strong Ukraine makes Europe stronger, and a weak Ukraine makes Europe weaker. There is reason for optimism—if Ukraine is bolstered by firm and credible security guarantees, it could develop and strengthen at the same non-linear pace that its collapse might otherwise occur. Ukraine of 30 to 40 million inhabitants, providing opportunities to all through rapid economic development, continuing the development of its missile and drone programmes, and most importantly united in its conviction of being able to resist Russian aggression, would be impossible to subdue.
Such power could create the self-fulfilling prophecy of deterring further Russian aggression. Just as the Soviets eventually accepted the existence of a separate Finish nation in lands previously controlled by the Russian Empire, Russians may come to terms with Ukraine’s separate national identity and aspirations. This would not happen from altruism, but rather from a recognition of the risks and costs of continued conflict with Ukraine backed by its Western allies. This detachment of Ukraine, in Russian minds, from Russia’s imagined sphere of imperial grandeur would in turn be the most determining factor for long-term peace and stability for Ukraine and Europe.
