Two Ukraines: heroes and fugitives Courage vs the crisis of responsibility

"Victory has a thousand fathers, but defeat is an orphan" – this phrase, spoken in 1961 after the failure of the Bay of Pigs invasion, belongs to the 35th President of the United States, John F. Kennedy. In its meaning, the word victory can be interpreted in a very broad sense. For example, in Russia, a victory over Ukraine would be considered its complete occupation, which follows from the narrative repeatedly promoted by Russian propagandists about “taking Kyiv in three days.”

It is entirely clear that implementing this plan is impossible. Likewise, the idea of restoring Ukraine to its 1991 borders—which has been frequently mentioned by President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and other high-ranking officials—is equally unrealistic, as is the prospect of reclaiming territories captured by Russia since the start of the full-scale war.

In this context, particularly among supporters of the current government, the narrative that simply preserving the Ukrainian state should be considered a “victory” is being actively promoted. There is, admittedly, a degree of truth to this view, but it is accompanied by a significant element of manipulation by those seeking to avoid accountability for their strategic and tactical failures.

But the question now is also about who, in the end, will declare themselves a victor on the Ukrainian side. The real right to do so belongs only to those members of the Armed Forces of Ukraine—whether alive, fallen, wounded, or disabled—who have defended the territorial integrity of their country throughout all these long years. They are the heroes! And only they can and should be considered the victors.

True heroism has also been shown by those working on the home front, who ensured, as much as possible, the continued functioning of the state. Above all, this applies to workers in the energy sector. They have had to keep the country running under continuous Russian missile and drone attacks for over 1,420 days, delivering electricity and gas to Ukrainian homes during the harshest winter conditions.

Yet the real source of disappointment lies in the fact that alongside these heroes of our time, those who simply fled the country will also inevitably claim a role in ending the war—that is, in achieving what they will call victory in its Ukrainian interpretation. And there are millions of them—11 million, to be precise, as we noted in one of our articles. Among them are vast numbers of men of conscription age, who can be found in virtually every European capital and in most cities considered reasonably livable.

They do not particularly hide their presence; on the contrary, many openly post photos and videos on social media, describing how “hard life is in safe Europe,” complaining about high living costs in various European countries, difficulties finding work, and the mentality of local populations.

A significant number of Ukrainian men of conscription age can also be found in Baku. They have no desire to return to Ukraine to defend it with weapons in hand. Instead, they are simply waiting for the war—any outcome at all—to end, so they can briefly return home, sell their property, and then leave for Spain, Germany, Poland, and elsewhere.

At the same time, the outflow of people seeking to leave Ukraine has not abated, even as the country is fighting for its very survival—despite the fact that the Territorial Centre for Recruitment and Social Support (TCR) is currently searching for around two million individuals.

One such incident occurred in Bukovyna, where a driver attempted to force his way across the border into Romania while transporting six passengers. According to Ukraine’s State Border Guard Service, he ignored an order to stop, began manoeuvring between border barriers, and struck a serviceman, who sustained serious injuries. The driver then abandoned the vehicle on the outskirts of a nearby settlement and fled the scene.

Another case highlights the scale of such attempts. Ukrainian border guards detained a truck carrying alcohol whose driver was trying to smuggle seven men across the border. The men were discovered hidden among pallets of alcohol at the Mamalyha checkpoint on the Moldovan border. The driver reportedly planned to charge between €6,000 and €13,000 per person; a search of the cab uncovered €34,000 in cash. All of the detained individuals were residents of Kyiv, Khmelnytskyi, and Khotyn.

All these facts, of course, evoke deep bitterness, and it is difficult to describe them as anything other than a disgrace. Yet, on the other hand, a legitimate question arises: why are so many Ukrainian men of conscription age trying to flee the country by any means possible? The answer, as the saying goes, is not hard to find—they see how, during a bloody war, Zelenskyy’s inner circle has become mired in corruption.

The so-called “Timur Mindich case”—a central figure in a major corruption scandal alongside Tsukerman—has become emblematic and, unfortunately, not the only example of the shocking scale of what can only be described as a “business built on blood.”

In addition, a particularly telling story was shared by Verkhovna Rada MP Yaroslav Zheleznyak. According to him, blogger Serhii Ivanov and political strategist Volodymyr Petrov received draft exemptions through enterprises where they had never actually worked—namely, the State Institution “National Military Memorial Cemetery” and Energoatom. “Both men, despite their public rhetoric about ‘patriotism’ and their criticism of the authorities, are in fact safely sitting in the rear,” he noted.

How is Ukrainian society supposed to react to all this? In truth, what is there to debate when the sitting President of Ukraine—who frequently appears in semi-military attire and was deemed fit for military service—never fulfilled his personal duty by serving in the ranks of the Armed Forces of Ukraine? Former President Petro Poroshenko has claimed that Volodymyr Zelenskyy “evaded draft summonses four times and failed to report when called up.”

These are the realities of Ukraine today. The country continues to endure, resist, and confront a vastly superior Russian force largely due to the heroism and courage of ordinary citizens—men and women who have taken up arms out of genuine patriotism. I am convinced that when the war ends, these people will not seek public acclaim or boast of their sacrifice. Instead, they will try to forget the horrors they have endured, honour the memory of fallen comrades, and do their best to return to peaceful civilian life.

Meanwhile, many Ukrainian men of conscription age who fled the country at its most critical moment will likely attempt to recast themselves as heroes.