As a consequence of a youth spent reading primarily history books (as a way to understand the present I had found myself in), I had developed what I considered to be a very healthy fear of nuclear war, or nuclear weapons use in general. My favorite history book at the time, a tome entitled The Illustrated History of the Twentieth Century, delved quite deeply into the events surrounding the development, use, and threatened use, of nuclear weapons.
The result was that my fear of nuclear weapons extended to even the childish jokes percolating through popular consciousness during the early years of the Iraq War. This drove quite a bit of my further political formation. Non-proliferation was an unalloyed good, while nuclear weapons programs were giveaways to military contractors and a salve for the insecure egos of elected politicians—or so I thought.
That was a luxury, I now realize, borne of my residence within a nuclear power. Twenty years later, having spent a full third of my life in an ex-nuclear state invaded by a nuclear one—I cannot honestly claim that my opinions have remained static, no matter how much I mourn the loss of innocence.
Unfortunately, Russia’s initial invasion in 2014 and its follow-up full-scale invasion in 2022 proved that the international community is, at best, hesitant to oppose nuclear powers fully. Instead of a broad peacekeeping coalition to ensure Ukrainian security, the country was forced into signing an agreement that not only handicapped our own defense against Russian incursions until 2022, but also gave Russia the time, capability, and funds to build up its future invasion force. Even after the full-scale war had commenced and Russian tanks were only dozens of kilometers from Kyiv, the international community could only issue statements of concern and offer rides to our political leadership—it wasn’t until months later that our partners organized the first Ramstein Contact Group.
Three years on, Ukraine still suffers from the lack of solidarity and coordination presaged in the opening days of the full-scale war. Much of the military aid promised by Ukraine’s partner nations has never been delivered—and the aid that Ukraine has received, while obviously critical to Ukraine’s defensive and offensive operations, has never reached the scale or scope necessary to make real changes to the war’s nature. Instead, Ukraine has attempted to fill in some of the gaps in our military prowess with domestic manufacturing—notably drones of all types, but also cruise missiles, electronics warfare systems, and more. Long-range strike capability is something we have had to figure out for ourselves, after it became laughably clear that the United States, Ukraine’s largest provider of military kit by far, would never provide us with the weapons necessary to strike deep into the Russian rear, at their airbases and fossil fuel processing facilities.
Despite these advances in domestic capability, the war continues, and in light of the changing political situations in Ukraine’s partner nations, it has become increasingly clear that Ukraine is a long way away from securing real security guarantees—and not just a ceasefire that would allow Russia to re-arm for a few years before invading again. The administration of President Volodymyr Zelenskyy recognizes this need, and has expended serious diplomatic effort in convincing our partners that only by joining a military alliance like NATO could Ukraine be safe—yet his words fall on deaf ears, time and time again. Every statement Zelenskyy makes in support of Ukraine’s NATO membership is rebuffed, like clockwork, by one Alliance official or another, who instead reiterate that Ukraine has NATO support, for ‘as long as it takes’. This is always, inevitably, followed by a politician in a NATO member nation making a statement to the effect of ‘We’ll be together, but not right now’—teenage dating habits as applied to geopolitical crises.
It is time to face facts. Ukraine will not join NATO. Ukraine will not receive a surge in military aid and materiel. Ukraine’s partners will not push for more drastic action against Russia, despite the worsening economic and political situation in Ukraine.
In short—Ukraine is on its own.
We should embrace that fact. A dangerous madman has seized control of Ukraine’s biggest partner, a madman with direct, documented ties to the dictator currently invading us. Globally, the world’s post-COVID economic recovery is at risk with the massive uncertainty introduced by the upcoming reign of Donald Trump, who, as of publishing time, has so far threatened to forcibly annex Greenland, Canada, and the Panama Canal, while conducting a special military operation in Mexico.
Ukraine can no longer rely on the United States, and as an extension, neither the EU nor NATO. Ukraine must forge its own security guarantees—security that is guaranteed from Kyiv, not from DC or Brussels.
That is why Ukraine must launch its own nuclear weapons development program. Many of the reasons cited as to why the international community cannot take a harsher stance towards Russia is Russia’s possession of nuclear weapons. The theocratic monarchy of North Korea can even involve itself, sending troops and heavy artillery to assist their Russian allies—again, because they have nukes. Iran, another of Russia’s partner states, can freely purchase sanctioned Russian fossil fuels and sell them advanced military gear—and Iran is suspected of developing or already possessing a nuclear weapon.
That is to say, it is an undeniable fact that possession of nuclear weapons allows a nation-state enormous latitude in how it conducts its affairs, up to and including warding away the consequences of a territorial invasion. For Ukraine to ever feel even a hint of security again, we must secure our own. This is no longer the realm of saber-rattling nationalism, but of urgent need. Our country’s survival has never been so much in doubt.
But we can secure it. It is time for Ukraine’s nuclear program to grow wings, and perhaps, make the world a slightly safer place than it has been.