S.M. Hali
History teaches that wars are fought not only on battlefields but also in the realm of narratives. Political leaders are elevated into symbols, adversaries demonised, and complex conflicts reduced to simplistic contests between good and evil. Yet, as the ancient Indian philosopher Chanakya observed, “A person should not be too honest. Straight trees are cut first and honest people are screwed first.” Often interpreted as a warning against naivety in statecraft, the aphorism underscores a timeless truth: politics is as much about perception and guile as it is about principle. The tragedy of the Ukraine conflict lies partly in the failure to distinguish between the two.
Since the outbreak of the Russia-Ukraine war in 2022, President Volodymyr Zelensky has emerged as the defining face of Ukraine’s resistance and one of the most recognisable political figures of the modern era. Through his ability to command international attention, shape global opinion and sustain Western support, he evolved from a national leader into a global political symbol. Across North America and Europe, he was portrayed not merely as the president of a nation under siege, but as the embodiment of democratic resilience.
Yet, as the war lengthened, this carefully nurtured image collided with the unforgiving realities of conflict. Early expectations that Ukraine could decisively reverse Russian gains gradually yielded to a more sobering assessment. Despite extensive military, financial and diplomatic support from the United States and Europe, the war settled into a protracted struggle of attrition. Human losses mounted, economic burdens deepened, and the prospect of a decisive victory receded.
The issue is not whether Ukraine had the right to defend itself. Every sovereign nation possesses that right. The more pertinent question is whether the international community, particularly Western governments, allowed strategic calculations to be overshadowed by emotional narratives. Political discourse frequently portrayed support for Kyiv as a moral obligation beyond debate. Those who questioned the long-term sustainability of the conflict were often dismissed as appeasers or sympathisers of Moscow.
Such binary thinking has proved counterproductive. Effective policymaking requires critical scrutiny rather than unquestioning admiration. Democracies thrive on debate, not conformity. When leaders become icons beyond criticism, accountability suffers and strategic mistakes become harder to correct.
Reports and allegations regarding corruption in Ukraine have surfaced periodically throughout the conflict. Long before the war, international watchdogs identified corruption as a significant challenge facing the Ukrainian state. Wartime conditions, involving vast inflows of foreign aid and emergency spending, heightened the need for transparency and oversight. While many allegations remain contested and require rigorous investigation rather than political rhetoric, their existence underscores the importance of institutional accountability even during national emergencies.
Another contentious issue concerns the postponement of elections during wartime. Supporters of the Ukrainian government argue that conducting elections amid displacement, military mobilisation and active conflict would be impractical and potentially destabilising. Critics contend that prolonged suspension of the electoral process risks eroding democratic legitimacy. This tension reflects a broader dilemma confronting nations at war: how to preserve democratic norms while ensuring national survival.
Equally troubling are reports of social strain arising from prolonged mobilisation. Every extended conflict imposes heavy burdens upon society. Families are separated, productivity declines and public morale weakens. As casualties rise and recruitment demands intensify, governments inevitably face growing pressure from citizens weary of sacrifice. Ukraine is no exception. The longer the conflict continues, the greater the challenge of sustaining public unity and social cohesion.
Yet responsibility for the current predicament cannot rest solely with Kyiv. Western policymakers also deserve scrutiny. For years, many leaders promised outcomes that now appear increasingly difficult to achieve. Public expectations were raised to levels that battlefield realities struggled to match. Assertions of inevitable victory often overlooked the possibility that prolonged warfare might ultimately benefit neither Ukraine nor the broader international community.
Moreover, geopolitical rivalries transformed Ukraine into the focal point of a wider contest between Russia and the West. What began as a regional conflict evolved into a proxy struggle carrying profound strategic implications. In such circumstances, there is always a danger that the interests of external stakeholders overshadow the welfare of those directly affected by the war.
The central lesson is not that one side is entirely right and the other entirely wrong. International conflicts rarely conform to such simplistic categories. Rather, the cultivation of political heroes and villains often obscures objective analysis. Nations require leaders who are judged by outcomes rather than imagery, performance rather than symbolism, and accountability rather than adulation.
As the war enters yet another year, the imperative should not be the preservation of narratives but the pursuit of realistic solutions. Diplomacy, however imperfect, remains preferable to endless bloodshed. Statesmanship requires recognising when objectives need reassessment and when persistence merely deepens human suffering.
Chanakya’s wisdom remains relevant today. He also warned: “There is some self-interest behind every friendship; there is no friendship without self-interest. This is a bitter truth.” International relations are no exception. Behind lofty rhetoric and moral grandstanding often lie calculations of power, influence and advantage that seldom make headlines.
The Ukraine conflict therefore offers a lesson that extends far beyond Eastern Europe. Political mythology can inspire nations, but it cannot substitute for sound strategy. History ultimately judges leaders not by the narratives built around them but by the consequences of their decisions. The lesson from Ukraine is not merely that wars are won or lost on battlefields; it is that nations suffer when political symbolism eclipses strategic realism, and when manufactured heroism substitutes for an honest appraisal of facts.
The writer is a retired Group Captain of the Pakistan Air Force (PAF). He is a columnist, analyst, and TV talk show host who has authored 16 books on current affairs, including ten on China.
