The Beginning of the End: Three Scenarios for Ukraine

If literature in Ukraine were judged by its substance rather than the language in which it is written, I would probably begin this post with a quote: "Annushka has already bought the sunflower oil, and has not only bought it, but has already spilled it." However, citing Bulgakov (whether Sergei or Mikhail) in modern Ukraine can lead to the same negative consequences as in those accursed Soviet times, so I will begin by simply stating the facts.

We are at a point of bifurcation. The options currently on the table range from bad to worse to catastrophic. Some time ago, on air with Vlasta Lazur, I said that a remake of 1917 awaited us in the spring. It appears I was off by exactly one year. This winter will be pivotal. That is to say, it will be the kind of winter capable of breaking our will to resist.

Those who were ready to defend the Ukrainian interpretation of history, the language, the red-and-black flag, and the right to have a Stepan Bandera street in every city are either already in a better world, crippled, still at the front, or burned out. The others—who think in terms of their own lives and families rather than "higher justice" or an "eternal war with the horde"—do not want to die at the front so that Mindich & Co can enjoy life on money stolen from us. Whether this is good or bad, I do not know. But it is a fact.

The scare tactic—that the Russians will come, forcibly mobilize everyone, and turn them into cannon fodder—frightens few people now. The Ukrainian state mobilizes citizens just as forcibly and often arbitrarily. Furthermore, Syrskyi's style of warfare differs little from Gerasimov's. Unfortunately, this is now undeniable...

If we began this war as two essentially different universes: freedom against slavery; dignity against humiliation; motivation, self-organization, grassroots initiative, horizontal ties, and creativity against a bureaucratized, clumsy, and frankly stupid Russian military machine—now, two very similar armies are fighting, distinguished only by different uniforms and flags...

Therefore, we face exactly three options:

1. Agree to the bad peace deal proposed by Trump, change the government through legitimate means, and slowly recover from seven years of Zelensky's rule. This is certainly no panacea, but it is a chance. A successor might be no better, or even worse. But the chance implies that fate might finally smile upon us—and an architect and statesman will take the helm, one who loves Ukraine more than his friends, his family, his own pocket, or even himself. This, of course, assumes Ukrainians have learned anything from the terrible tragedy that the 35 years of independence have become, during which we lost 40% of our population and 20% of our territory...

2. Change nothing in the hope that a miracle will occur and Russia will "collapse" before we do. This is the scenario Zelensky is currently playing. I fear that as early as the first quarter of 2026, he will have to play the role not of Napoleon or Churchill, but of Nicholas II...

3. A military coup. Not the worst scenario. The problem, however, is that Ukraine currently has several successful, desperate, and charismatic military leaders whose ambitions clearly have a political dimension. I fear they will fail to reach an agreement, just as Petliura, Konovalets, and Melnyk failed 100 years ago. They are too young and ambitious. To exit this crisis, Ukraine needs a wise Mannerheim or Washington, not a young and hot-headed "Führer of the Ukrainian nation"...

On February 28, 1940, the Prime Minister of Finland and four other government members visited Mannerheim at his headquarters. The agenda held only one question: seek peace with the USSR or continue heroic resistance. Here is how the father and savior of the Finnish state described that day:

"...great successes had been achieved north of Lake Ladoga, but the situation on the Karelian Isthmus had worsened. I asked the generals present to outline their assessment of the situation to the ministers. Listening to their reports, I discovered with some surprise: all of them, except one, believed that we would still hold out, that it was possible and necessary to fight on. When the ministers stepped aside to confer among themselves, I took the opportunity to justify my opinion that we must now attempt to conclude peace—a thought that had grown into a conviction. I believed we should not allow the bitterness caused by the harshness of the proposed conditions to cloud our judgment. The fact that the army is not defeated still gives us the opportunity to talk about peace. If a military catastrophe occurs, our chances for this will be lost, and our forces are strained to the limit."

But a Ukrainian Mannerheim is nowhere to be seen. Therefore, the Titanic will continue its steady course toward disaster. For some reason, I believe Ukraine will survive it. But perhaps this disaster is necessary so that we finally come to our senses, wake up, and start changing—rather than just blaming "Muscovites" for everything, renaming streets, and repainting fences...