The tyranny of geography: Ukraine’s fatal gamble
Few conflicts in modern times better demonstrate the tyranny of geography than the war in Ukraine. At its center is Crimea, a peninsula whose ownership has been fought over for centuries-a sad reminder that, geopolitically, location largely determines destiny. Once the historical homeland of the Crimean Tatars, it was annexed by Russia in 1783, fought over in the nineteenth-century Crimean War, and transferred to Ukraine in 1954 during the Soviet era. At the time, the move was administrative, almost trivial. No one imagined that the Soviet Union would collapse and leave Crimea under Kyiv’s control, setting the stage for a conflict that would claim hundreds of thousands of lives.
When it dissolved in 1991, the USSR bequeathed Crimea to Ukraine along with a nuclear arsenal that it later gave up in return for security guarantees. A weakened and impoverished Russia under Boris Yeltsin did nothing to question that settlement. Yet the seeds of future conflict were already being planted. NATO’s eastward expansion brought the alliance to Russia’s doorstep.
For the Kremlin, Ukraine’s flirtation with NATO membership was not simply unwelcome; it was existential. Geography made it so. Ukraine’s leaders knew this. They knew that Russia would never accept NATO on its border without a fight. Yet they pressed forward anyway, “poking the bear,” as critics have argued. The result has been catastrophic: a war of attrition, the destruction of cities, hundreds of thousands dead, the displacement of millions, the loss of territory, and a permanent rupture with Moscow. Putin’s rhetoric about “Nazis” in Ukraine may be propaganda, but it resonates with Russian memories of wartime collaboration during World War II. History, geography, and deep-rooted mistrust combined to make Ukraine’s NATO ambitions a fatal gamble.
Now that Washington is imposing a controversial peace framework, the bitter lesson is clear. A 28-point plan pushed by the Trump administration—largely the product of secret negotiations between U.S. envoy Steve Witkoff and his Russian counterpart Kirill Dmitriev—would force Ukraine to cede occupied territories, forsake NATO membership, and drastically circumscribe its military capabilities. The proposed agreement would require Kyiv to acknowledge Crimea and the Donbas as Russian, to slash its armed forces by more than half, and to accede to the establishment of a demilitarized buffer zone in territories it currently controls. In return, the plan provides for security guarantees though the precise nature of those assurances remains murky.
The proposal has put Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky in an impossible position. In a somber address to his nation last week, he described the moment as “truly one of the most difficult” in Ukraine’s history, warning that his country faces an agonizing choice. “Ukraine may now face a tough choice: the loss of dignity, or the risk of losing a key partner,” he said, without naming the United States directly. The pressure from Washington is intense. Trump has demanded Zelensky’s answer by Thanksgiving, with the implicit threat that continued resistance could mean the end of American support. “If things are working well, you tend to extend the deadlines,” Trump remarked in a radio interview, “but Thursday is it.”
But Zelensky has not given up yet. In a strong address in which he acknowledged the somberness of the moment, he swore that Ukraine would defend its sovereignty and dignity. “From the first days of the war, we have upheld one straightforward position: Ukraine needs peace with terms that respect our independence, our sovereignty, and the dignity of the Ukrainian people,” he said. European leaders have rallied behind Ukraine, though in carefully worded statements to avoid antagonizing the Trump administration. EU foreign policy chief Kaja Kallas said Russia has “no legal right whatsoever to any concessions from the country it invaded.” German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, French President Emmanuel Macron, and British Prime Minister Keir Starmer vowed their “unchanged and full support” for Ukraine’s quest for a “lasting and just peace.” European officials, blindsided by the U.S.-Russia negotiations, are now scrambling to present their own counter-proposals.
Russia has predictably welcomed the framework, with President Vladimir Putin announcing that the plan “could form the basis for a final peace settlement,” and simultaneously warning that should Ukraine fail to negotiate, Russian forces will continue their offensive and seize more cities. Earlier this year, Putin proclaimed that Russians and Ukrainians are “one people” and that “all of Ukraine is ours, “a chilling echo of imperial ambitions, making any peace agreement seem precarious at best.
The tragedy of Ukraine is the consequence not only of Russian aggression but also of a miscalculation about the iron laws of geography. Ukraine’s leaders gambled that Western support would be enough to deter or defeat Russia, that NATO membership was in sight, and that determination and international law could surmount geography. They were mistaken. The distance between Kyiv and Moscow, the historical grievances, the strategic imperatives-all conspired to make this confrontation inevitable once Ukraine moved toward the West.
As Michael O’Hanlon of the Brookings Institution observed, “Giving up any land voluntarily when Russia has stolen 19 per cent of Ukraine already since 2014 just seems completely illegitimate.” Yet the harsh reality is that Ukraine may not have a choice. Geography has imposed its verdict. Borders, as Ukraine is learning at terrible cost, are destiny. And those who defy that destiny—however noble their aspirations—often reap misery beyond measure. The question now is not whether Ukraine made the right choice in pursuing Western integration but how much more it will be forced to sacrifice before acknowledging what geography has dictated all along.
The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.