Pax Kremliana

The Russian Federation became a member of the Council of Europe on February 26, 1996. Its path to membership was paved by a letter addressed to the organization by then-Russian leaders: President Boris Yeltsin, Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin, and the speakers of both chambers of the Russian parliament.

In the letter, they formally committed that the Russian Federation would faithfully uphold its obligations as a member of the Council of Europe, as well as the specific requirements set by the Parliamentary Assembly as a condition of membership. Yeltsin and his associates promised, among other things, that the Russian Federation would resolve domestic and international disputes peacefully and refrain from all forms of threats or force toward its neighbours.

They also pledged to resolve existing international border disputes in accordance with the principles of international law and with respect for existing treaties. Finally, Russia, through its top officials, condemned the concept of dividing foreign countries into two categories, treating some as spheres of special influence known as the "near abroad."

We know what happened to those formal promises. Less than three years after champagne corks popped at the Palace of Europe in Strasbourg, explosions rocked residential buildings in Moscow. Then-unknown FSB official Vladimir Putin replaced Yeltsin and ordered that the internal conflict in Chechnya be resolved by highly unpeaceful means.

You might wave this off, saying that international promises and treaties are just dead letters, and that in the events leading up to the war in Ukraine, everyone was violating them. Perhaps. But the final sentence, about the "near abroad," is key to understanding why the invasion of Ukraine happened and what is needed to end the war and establish lasting peace and stability.

You might wave this off again, saying that the near abroad doctrine doesn't threaten Slovenia, since it concerns former Soviet republics and perhaps ex-members of the Warsaw Pact. Don't celebrate too soon.

To understand how elastically Putin interprets this doctrine, recall his recent musings on Peter the Great and Russia's right to take what it considers its own. It is abundantly clear that Russia is also eyeing the Balkans—right at our doorstep, if you will.

Debates on the war in Ukraine and our stance toward it are exhausting, but necessary. Exhausting because they are full of generalizations, oversimplifications, and attempts to discredit interlocutors when arguments run out. The debate is often reduced to a binary polarization between pacifists and Russophobes, as stated by the newspaper Delo. This is inaccurate and undignified.

I firmly support Ukraine as the victim of Russian aggression, but I reject being lumped together with just about everybody who currently think similarly. I reject opportunistic anti-Putinism on Ukraine that otherwise shamelessly plagiarizes Putin's own ideological authoritarian paradigm rooted in nationalism, cultural warfare, and hatred of the different.

But because this debate is necessary, helping shape public opinion and positions on a crisis that directly threatens us, I will now focus on what I agree on with other participants in the discussion, rather than just what divides us.

I fully agree that the war should end as soon as possible, along with the unnecessary bloodshed and destruction of Ukraine. For the sake of Ukrainians, the thousands of young people dying on both sides of the front, and the broader security, economic, political, and social consequences of the war in Europe and the world.

But to achieve lasting peace, we must understand why the war happened. Many openly or implicitly look for the reasons in Ukraine. It's true—Ukraine has many flaws, from corruption to far-right extremism to missteps in dealing with Russian-speaking citizens. But the picture isn't complete without analysing how Ukraine's stance on these issues has evolved over time, or comparing it with the extremism, corruption, and treatment of minorities by the aggressor.

The Maidan protests ousted Ukraine's most corrupt president, who fled to Russia. Ukrainians then clearly showed they wanted a different kind of country and future. Arguing that there are extremists (in far greater numbers) on the other side, and that the other side treats minorities even more ruthlessly, does not excuse Ukraine's problems—but it does make it grotesquely cynical to use them to justify aggression.

If Ukrainians want EU membership, they'll need to clean house—but not under bombs or foreign invasion.

The argument that Russia is protecting "its own" in Donetsk and Luhansk collapses under scrutiny. The "liberated" cities have been reduced to rubble, and it is mostly conscripted local residents who are dying during this "liberation," used by Putin—untrained and unequipped—as cannon fodder for his imperialist goals.

Many blame the West, especially the U.S. and NATO. I agree they carry heavy responsibility. The cynicism, hypocrisy, short-sightedness, and inconsistency of Western leaders over decades paved the way for Putin and his ideological copy-cats to ruthlessly pursue their aims: from the "war on terror" to CIA black sites and Guantanamo, to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the neoliberal gutting of the economic and social base without which liberal democracy cannot function.

There will be no lasting peace or global stability until the West looks in the mirror and does some serious housecleaning. The West's sins paved the way for Putin, but they are no justification for his rampage and aggression. The world won't be fairer or safer if we replace hypocrites with rabid authoritarians.

We must criticize the West. I understand critiques of the U.S. and NATO. But please—let's stop projecting noble motives onto a fascistic autocrat as if he were a Cyrillic Che Guevara.

Putin's aggression against a neighbouring country is the most brutal assertion yet of the near abroad doctrine. He attacked Ukraine because, according to this doctrine, it is his to do with as he pleases. A quarter-century ago, the international community demanded that Russia renounce and condemn this doctrine. Today, large parts of the public—even in Slovenia—accept it and treat it as a legitimate reason for Russia to treat its neighbours like dirt and deny them the right to freely choose their own future.

Many who express solidarity with Ukraine point to the West's hypocritical indifference to other wars and injustices, from the Palestinian question to the long-forgotten carnage in Yemen, for which a Western ally, authoritarian Saudi Arabia, bears responsibility. This is also evident in refugee policy, where solidarity is doled out according to religion and skin colour. The West has not shied from brutally pursuing its interests.

We must condemn this. I agree it's shameful and intolerable. These injustices must be corrected—not tomorrow, but today. But not at the expense of Ukrainian victims and suffering. Let's fix all injustices, not excuse some with others. Let's reject the inverted cynicism of British defence Minister Rifkind during the Bosnian war, who condescendingly told MPs that helping Bosnia wouldn't be fair to Angola and Cambodia, which the world had already abandoned.

I strongly support those striving for a world without weapons. But I advise caution in naively applying this noble goal to a conflict between a weaker defender and a much stronger aggressor. The only one who can end this war immediately is Putin—but there's no sign he intends to. If we have no control over the arms and actions of the stronger side, then denying help to the weaker is indirect military support for Russia. That's not a moral judgment—it's a fact.

The claim that military aid to Ukraine prolongs the conflict is true only on the most cynical level. Without help, the aggressor wins. Ukraine's resistance is a national liberation struggle for survival. Peace at any cost—a peace that acknowledges and legitimizes Putin's imperial ambitions—would not only be disgraceful but would fail to bring peace.

On the contrary, it would give Putin a springboard for further aggression and destabilization of the world.

Putin attacked Ukraine because it's crucial to achieving his imperial policy. For years, he has used energy as a weapon to destabilize the world and reshape it to his liking. For a peace on his terms. A Pax Kremliana.

With Ukraine, he now adds food to his arsenal. To achieve his goals, Putin is willing not only to kill every Ukrainian he can get his hands on and sacrifice thousands of his own young citizens, but also to starve half the world. He doesn’t even try to hide it.

At the end of April, Kremlin mouthpiece RIA Novosti published an article titled "Russia Has Much More Terrifying Weapons Than Missiles to Use Against the West," accompanied by a photo of wheat stalks. Hunger—already likely inevitable—will kill millions and force even more to flee westward.

This is not a side effect of the war in Ukraine. It is, from the start, one of its primary aims.

We can imagine the consequences if we multiply the recent refugee crisis—which was exploited to bring illiberal authoritarians to power across the West—by ten.

Peace at any cost, which would freeze the status quo, is Putin’s victory. From that moment on, the world will depend on the mercy or cruelty of a Kremlin autocrat who can pull the trigger whenever he pleases. Regardless of the consequences — or precisely because of them.

And as of February 24, it’s more than clear he’s prepared to do just that.