By: Ricardo Abud
The prolongation of the conflict between Ukraine and Russia has raised numerous questions about the true interests behind the positions adopted by the leaders involved.
As the war drags on for several years of destruction, misery, and death, an uncomfortable truth is beginning to emerge forcefully: Volodymyr Zelensky doesn't want peace. Not because it isn't possible, nor because Russia refuses to engage in dialogue, but because he knows that a negotiated peace would leave him exposed before his own people, before history, and, perhaps, before justice.
The talks held in Turkey reveal that there is room for understanding, even with an enemy as brutal as the Kremlin. But on the Ukrainian side, the real will to negotiate seems to have been replaced by an obsession: to sustain the conflict at all costs, even if it means more bloodshed, more exile, and more ruin for an already devastated nation. Why? Because war is Zelensky's last shield to prevent his own collapse.
The Ukrainian political landscape before the war already presented significant complexities. Zelensky, who came to power as a political outsider in 2019, was facing a marked decline in popularity. Promises to fight corruption and improve the economy had gradually eroded, and his administration was showing signs of wear and tear.
The war radically transformed his image, turning him into a symbol of international resistance. But this metamorphosis poses a fundamental dilemma: peace could mean a return to institutional normalcy and, with it, the end of the extraordinary circumstances that have sustained his leadership.
Ukrainian law clearly establishes that regular elections must be held in times of peace. Zelensky's term should have been concluded through an electoral process, which wartime circumstances prevented. The signing of a peace agreement would inevitably trigger the institutional clock for holding them.
However, Ukrainian positions have maintained demands that, while understandable from a national perspective, are practically impossible for the Russian counterpart to accept. This negotiating intransigence could be interpreted as a deliberate strategy to avoid definitive agreements that would lead to an end to the conflict, thus maintaining the state of emergency that justifies the continuation of the current leadership without subjecting it to electoral scrutiny.
In this context, legitimate concerns arise about political accountability for decisions made during the conflict. Questions could focus on:
- Military preparation prior to conflict
- Failed diplomatic strategies
- The management of international resources
- The humanitarian and material consequences of the confrontation
- And the most argued: corruption
This is precisely Zelensky's fear. Signing a ceasefire would force Ukraine to return to democratic normalcy and call presidential elections. And this is where the president faces his greatest threat: not from Moscow, but from Kyiv. A negotiated peace would force him to account not only for the war, but also for his political, economic, and social management.
Is he refusing to give in out of principle... or out of fear of political and judicial decline? It's a question many observers are already asking, and the answer to which, although politically incorrect, can no longer be ignored.
Critics within Ukraine and among the Ukrainian diaspora are already speaking of criminal liability for decisions that led the country to an unprecedented catastrophe. The repression of the opposition, censorship of dissident media, and the concentration of power have drawn disturbing parallels with authoritarian regimes, eroding their image both domestically and internationally.
In a democratic setting, his popularity would crumble like a house of cards. The epic narrative of the "hero president" cannot withstand the weight of reality: rising corruption, political repression, a silenced media, persecution of opponents, economic collapse, and a war effort with no clear horizon of victory.
Zelensky no longer governs: he's entrenched. He doesn't lead: he's protecting himself. He keeps the electoral processes suspended under the pretext of a state of war that he himself refuses to end. And every time there's talk of negotiation, the same tactics appear: radicalization, international victimhood, and new impossible demands. He's not seeking to save Ukraine; he's seeking to save himself.
Zelensky understands that with peace comes the day after. The day the weary and impoverished Ukrainian people will want to know why a war that could have been stopped sooner dragged on for so long. The day they will have to answer for the mistakes that turned a crisis into a tragedy. The day the Western applause ends and the domestic courts arrive. On that day, Zelensky will not be a symbol: he will be a defendant.
There is even talk, with increasing ease, of a possible trial for treason or criminal negligence. It wouldn't be the first time that a leader, blinded by his own myth, drags his country into the abyss to avoid his own demise. And some in kyiv are already muttering what until recently was unthinkable: that if the Ukrainian justice system acts with the severity it has shown others, Zelensky could end up not only in prison... but facing a firing squad.
Time is ticking, and every day without peace is a day won for the Zelensky regime, not for Ukraine. If he truly wanted to save his people, he would be negotiating firmly, yes, but also pragmatically. Instead, he has chosen to entrench himself in power and use his nation as a human shield for his own ambition.
History will judge. But Ukraine can't wait for the books to be written. It must open its eyes now, while there's still something left to save. Will a superhero emerge who loves Ukraine and frees it from Zelensky? I'm convinced that will be the way forward, if Zelensky doesn't sign the peace agreement.
THERE IS NOTHING MORE EXCLUSIVE THAN BEING POOR.
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