Ukraine Is Our Conscience

One of the frequent arguments made by apologists for Russia is the claim that, in the early 1990s when the Soviet Union was collapsing, Russia was promised that NATO would not expand further eastward — that is, NATO would refrain from welcoming new member states in Eastern Europe. Setting aside the questionable veracity of such a promise — it is unlikely that any formal agreement was made — the argument misses a crucial moral point. These apologists express outrage that the West allegedly broke its word by accepting newly independent Eastern European states into NATO, blaming thereby the West for warmongering.

However, if there is anything to be outraged about in this narrative, it is the very notion that such a promise would have been made to Russia in the first place. Such an agreement would essentially mean that a criminal was promised free rein to continue brutalizing its former victims, denying them the right to seek help and protection. Those promoting the narrative that "NATO expansion triggered Russia" are effectively advocating for Russia's unfettered ability to abuse its neighbors under the guise of a "legitimate sphere of influence". But the real question that needs be asked instead is why should a criminal entity like Russia, with a history of aggression and brutality — and a genocidal one at that, be entitled to any sphere of influence at all?

The argument put forth by Russian apologists is therefore morally untenable. It is unacceptable to suggest that Russia deserves a sphere of influence that allows it to perpetuate abuse against other nations. Therefore, the outrage should not be directed at the West for infringing upon Russia's so-called sphere of influence but at the very idea that such a concept is acceptable regarding Russia. In the same vein, it is not NATO’s expansion that should be criticized, but rather the fact that this expansion was slow, reluctant, and incomplete. When countries in Central and Eastern Europe gained independence from the Soviet Union, they sought protection from the West, where they naturally belong and gravitated toward from time immemorial, only to be artificially torn away from it by Russian occupation. Therefore, it is only natural and morally justifiable that these nations requested entry into NATO to protect themselves from a hateful, aggressive and abusive neighbor to the east. The narrative of NATO’s “enlargement” as an imperialistic move by the West is thus a complete distortion of reality. It wasn’t NATO imposing itself; it was the former Soviet and Soviet-satellite states desperately seeking protection from Russia’s aggression.

The moral outrage should in fact be directed to the fact that NATO’s expansion wasn’t fast and comprehensive enough. For example, countries like Ukraine and Georgia were left out, in spite of their desparate pleas for protection, leaving them vulnerable to Russian aggression. If anything, the West should be condemned not for expanding NATO, but for doing so too slowly and too cautiously. Eastern European nations like Ukraine, Georgia, and even Moldova and Belarus should have been included long ago, just as Poland and the Baltic states were.

The truth is, Russia does indeed feel threatened by NATO’s expansion, but not in the way its apologists suggest. It is the frustration of a bully who finds that his former victims are now protected and can no longer be easily abused. Therefore, the idea that we should avoid making the abuser — i.e., Russia, feel "threatened" by appeasing it is absurd. The morally right response is not to allow Russia to continue its brutalization unchecked but to stand up to it. Moreover, in this regard Russia apologists do not act as merely passive observers; instead they actively shame those who try to intervene and protect Russia's victims. Their approach is to justify Russian aggression by blaming the victims and their protectors, rather than holding the true criminal accountable.

The confrontation between Russia and Ukraine is not a typical struggle over territory or resources. It is a deep-seated civilizational and metapolitical conflict between two opposing and mutually exclusive visions, with a clear and explicit symbolism — European civilization represented by Ukraine vs. Eurasian barbarity and primitivism represented by Russia. This war is explicitly about Ukraine's desire to belong to the Western family. Ukraine, a member of our European family that has been more unfortunate due to its proximity to a cruel and barbarous neighbor, is seeking our protection. And this is the primary reason I support Ukraine.

In much the same way, I would, for example, also empathize with and unequivocally support Taiwan in its confrontation with China, particularly if China were to launch an attack. Even though, in the case of Taiwan, I do not share any racial or cultural ties with the Taiwanese people, for me the deeper symbolism of such a conflict would be undeniable. In essence, the root of the animosity China harbors towards Taiwan mirrors the hatred Russia exhibits towards Ukraine. Both China and Russia resent the fact that there exists a neighboring population — similar to their own in ethnicity and language — that has deliberately chosen another, a superior, civilizational path, rather than the gloom and despotism that dominate their own realms. It is precisely this symbolism that makes Taiwan a target for Chinese aggression, just as Ukraine's embrace of European Civilization provokes Russia's fury. And because of this symbolic nature, I am convinced that, if conflict arises, China would brutalize the Taiwanese in much the same way that Russia brutalizes Ukrainians, with no regard for humanity or international norms.

For me, such a confrontation would not be a distant issue between two Asian nations resolving a local dispute. It would represent a much larger and far more significant struggle. It would be about one nation’s clear and courageous choice to follow the path of Western Civilization, standing against a larger, resentful and spiteful enemy that seeks to drag it back into its world of Asiatic despotism and darkness. In this scenario, Taiwan, like Ukraine, would be calling out to the Western world for protection, not only to safeguard its people but to preserve the values that the West itself claims to champion. And in such a case, the moral obligation for the West to provide that protection would be undeniable. Taiwan’s struggle, much like Ukraine’s, would be our struggle too.

It is not "geopolitical interests" that drive Russia's brutalization of Ukraine. Is it because of “NATO expansion” that Russians are committing atrocities such as raping, killing, torturing, castrating and beheading Ukrainians? Are “geopolitical concerns” why they are leveling cities, targeting hospitals, schools, residential areas, and civilian infrastructure in Ukraine? No. The real reason is because Russians cannot stand another Slavic, essentially Russian-speaking nation choosing the European path, gravitating away from the Eurasian primitivism and barbarism embodied by the "Russian world".

If one side of a war aims at the literal extermination of the other, no amount of "escalation management" will suffice. An aggressor intent on annihilation will not deescalate or be appeased by concessions short of their ultimate goal. Initially, Russians may have thought they needed only to eliminate the Ukrainian elite to uproot Ukrainian identity. But when they realized that Ukrainian identity is an organic, deeply rooted phenomenon, their war took on genocidal dimensions. The world must finally recognize this reality and act accordingly. Without decisively confronting Russia, there will be no peace in Europe, for Russia will not rest until it destroys the unique Ukrainian nation and identity.

Imagine you’re walking down the street and you witness an unspeakable crime — a girl being brutally assaulted. In that moment, you face a choice. You can walk by, pretending not to see, avoiding danger and trouble. You’ll be physically unharmed, safe in the knowledge that you didn’t put yourself at risk. But deep inside, you’ll know you abandoned someone in desperate need. Can a life lived with that weight on your conscience truly be fulfilling? The guilt of leaving a victim to suffer will gnaw at you forever. You’ll always carry the burden of knowing that, in a moment when your action could have mattered most, you chose to do nothing.

On the other hand, you could intervene. You could step in, knowing there’s a risk of injury, perhaps even death — though that’s a less likely outcome. You might get hurt, but physical wounds heal. What would remain is the knowledge that you stood up against brutality, that you did the right thing, and your conscience will be clear. On the other hand, however, the emotional scars of having ignored a victim’s anguish and pleas for help will never fade. They will linger till the end of your life, leaving an emotional wound that, unlike a physical one, time cannot heal.

Now, take this example and apply it to the people who argue for “de-escalation” or peace talks with Russia in the face of its aggression against Ukraine. Their stance is even worse than merely walking by without intervening. While one might understand, even if it’s morally wrong, the decision to walk away for personal safety, these advocates are doing something far more despicable: they are shaming and blaming those who choose to step in and help the victim. Instead of condemning the criminal who initiated the violence, they point fingers at those who took action against the brutality, those who decided to protect the victim.

These so-called peacemakers argue that sending weapons to Ukraine “prolongs” the conflict. In essence, they’re saying that those who are trying to save the victim of aggression from the aggressor are making the situation worse. It’s like blaming the person who tries to rescue the assaulted girl for escalating the situation — because, they argue, by intervening, the danger might spread, potentially even harming them who chose to walk away. This attitude is beyond reprehensible. It shifts the blame from the attacker to the protector, from the criminal to the one trying to defend the innocent.

The above analogy perfectly illustrates the situation in Ukraine. We in the West can choose to ignore Russia’s horrific acts, turning a blind eye while we continue to live our comfortable lives. And yes, our lives may remain peaceful, untroubled by the conflict unfolding far away. But the knowledge that we stood by while a civilized European nation was devoured by a brutal, barbaric aggressor would haunt us. We would enjoy our comfort, but it would come with the permanent stain of guilt — an inescapable awareness that we did nothing while Ukraine was brutalized by Russia, that Ukrainians suffered because we were too afraid, too pathetic, or too focused on our own security to act.

On the other hand, if we intervene more decisively, there will undoubtedly be risks. In a worst-case scenario — though highly unlikely — some of our own cities could be destroyed in a broader confrontation. Our people could die, and the cost could be high. But in return, we would destroy a dangerous, abusive enemy, and we would rescue a nation that would be eternally grateful to us. The cities lost in such a conflict can be rebuilt. Lives, obviously, cannot be replaced. But loss of life is an inescapable part of human existence, a fact we must accept if we are to engage in meaningful struggles. A civilization that obsesses over saving every life at any cost, that avoids any risk for the sake of comfort, is a civilization in decline, one losing its sense of purpose and vitality.

And when the West ultimately prevails in a confrontation with Russia, we will emerge stronger, with a renewed sense of confidence in our civilization. The West will be reborn, energized by the achievement of something monumental — something that transcends the banalities of everyday existence. This triumph will fill our people with a renewed pride in ourselves, a sense of having defended something worth fighting for. This sense of purpose will spur the creation of new life, new generations who will grow up with a deep sense of belonging to a civilization that stood firm in the face of evil and triumphed. The lives lost in the struggle will be replaced by new lives — lives imbued with hope, pride, and the knowledge that they come from a people who achieved greatness.

In the end, Ukraine represents something much more profound than a mere geopolitical struggle. Ukraine is the mirror reflecting our own moral compass. Ukraine is our conscience. It is a test of our own honour, and it forces us to confront a difficult truth: to stand by in silence or provide half-hearted help as we do now is to be complicit in the suffering of others. Therefore, we cannot ignore this historic call. We must act more decisively and robustly — not just for Ukraine, but for the sake of our own humanity and conscience.