In discussions of Ukraine, it is important to decolonize Western perspectives and recognize that Russia's ongoing imperialism has only served to strengthen NATO rather than weaken it. This expansionist agenda did not begin in 2022, 2014, nor did it emerge solely as a reaction to NATO enlargement, an argument that
Mikhail Gorbachev himself has dismissed. Instead, it has deep ideological roots, as outlined in the geopolitical strategies of figures like Aleksandr Dugin. The vision of a "Eurasian" empire has informed Russian imperial ambitions for decades. This influence has manifested not only in ideological writings but also in concrete actions, including the activities of Eurasian youth movements operating within Ukraine and earlier efforts by members of the National Bolshevik Party, who faced charges for threatening Ukraine's territorial integrity.
These fringe ideas gradually became part of Russian President Vladimir Putin's political strategy as he embraced nationalism for ideological support, similar to how far-right ideologies from the 1990s have been absorbed into today's Republican Party in the United States. This is evidenced by his speech at the
World Russian People's Council, where he framed the war in Ukraine as a "holy war" to preserve Russia's cultural and spiritual dominance. The rhetoric of protecting the "Russian World" (Russkiy Mir) has justified expansionist policies under the guise of historical and religious continuity. In his 2014 speech following the annexation of Crimea, Putin likened Crimea's significance to that of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, underscoring the sacralization of territorial conquest. More recently, the World Russian People's Council's declaration affirmed that Russia was engaged in a holy mission to shield the world from Western "Satanism" and that Ukraine was destined to fall under Russia's exclusive sphere of influence.
Understanding this broader history reframes Russia's aggression not as a reaction to NATO but as part of a long-standing effort to reassert imperial dominance. This colonial project aims to subjugate Ukraine and other former Soviet republics, treating them not as independent nations but as territories to be absorbed into a "
Greater Russia." The narrative that Russia is merely defending itself against Western encroachment ignores the reality that its own actions have consistently driven its neighbors further toward NATO and Western alliances. Finland and Sweden's NATO bids, for example, are direct consequences of Russian militarism, not preemptive Western schemes.
A truly decolonial approach affirms Ukraine's struggle as one of self-determination against imperial rule, not merely a proxy in great-power politics.
The left has historically fought against imperialism in all its forms. Yet, some sections of the contemporary Western left have failed to apply their anti-imperialist principles to Russian expansionism, viewing NATO as the primary antagonist. True anti-imperialism requires solidarity with those resisting colonial domination, which in this case means supporting Ukraine's right to self-determination against Russian aggression. This aligns with the struggles of grassroots movements in Ukraine who have been on the frontlines of defending their communities from occupation and repression.
Resistance movements in Ukraine, such as those documented by
Avtonom, 161 Crew's Ukraine War Reader, Solidarity Collectives, and the Ukraine Solidarity Campaign, provide vital perspectives that counter the dominant geopolitical framing of the war. Avtonom's reporting emphasizes the need for direct antiauthoritarian resistance to both Russian imperialism and NATO militarization. It argues that we should not be caught in a binary trap but should instead prioritize grassroots solidarity with those directly resisting occupation. The 161 Crew Ukraine War Reader offers firsthand accounts from antifascist fighters, showcasing the diverse composition of Ukrainian resistance, which includes feminist, queer, and anti-racist activists.
Solidarity Collectives highlight the crucial role of mutual aid and self-organization in sustaining resistance efforts. They argue that the war is not just about state survival but about defending communities against violent colonial erasure. Their work provides material aid to resistance groups, ensuring that grassroots fighters have the resources to continue their struggle. The Ukraine Solidarity Campaign's feminist manifesto demonstrates the gendered dimensions of war and occupation, highlighting how Russian aggression exacerbates patriarchal violence and restricts bodily autonomy. These perspectives disrupt the simplistic portrayal of the war as a clash of geopolitical blocs, instead framing it as a fight for the survival of marginalized and oppressed communities.
In juxtaposition, Russia's imperial vision is deeply intertwined with the Russian Orthodox Church, which has provided ideological justification for war.
Patriarch Kirill, a key figure in the Russian Orthodox hierarchy, has framed the invasion of Ukraine as a holy war against Western decadence. This fusion of nationalism and religious orthodoxy reflects broader patterns of colonial domination, where cultural and spiritual narratives are weaponized to justify expansion and subjugation.
One of the most insidious justifications for Russia's aggression has been the portrayal of Russian-speaking populations in Ukraine as oppressed minorities in need of protection. This mirrors tactics used by Russia in Transnistria, Georgia's breakaway regions, and other former Soviet territories, where Moscow has manufactured narratives to justify humanitarian intervention. From a historical perspective, Ukraine has faced centuries of colonial domination by Russia. This suppression dates to the Russian Empire's Russification policies, which sought to erase Ukrainian language, culture, and autonomy. The Soviet era continued these efforts, most notably through the Holodomor, which devastated the Ukrainian population and remains a defining trauma in the nation's collective memory. Recognizing this colonial history is critical in understanding why Ukraine's fight for sovereignty is not merely a geopolitical contest but a struggle against historical oppression.
One of the central arguments put forth by some in the "pro-peace" camp is that NATO expansion provoked Russia into invading Ukraine. This claim assumes that Russia's security concerns are legitimate while ignoring the desires of Eastern European nations. Countries like Ukraine have sought NATO membership not due to Western coercion but because of real and ongoing threats. The claim that NATO provoked Russia also misrepresents historical facts: While verbal discussions about NATO's role in post-Cold War Europe occurred, no legally binding agreement prohibited NATO expansion. Gorbachev himself later clarified that NATO expansion was not a topic of formal negotiation during German reunification.
This should not be misconstrued with support for NATO. However, even those on the left that had previously favored neutrality and condemned NATO had a change of heart after Russia's hybrid, and then full-scale invasion of Ukraine. It was not only out of fears for security, but lack of other options. As a member of the Finnish political party
Left Union stated "The consensus, as I understand it in discussions with comrades, is that we have not been able to provide any credible alternatives to NATO. We always emphasized that we had an independent, strong army that Russia would not dare to challenge—and since we were outside NATO, they had no reason to challenge us. After the invasion of 2022, such a defense policy was no longer perceived as adequate."
Ultimately, demands for Ukrainian neutrality and territorial concessions ignore the imperialist nature of Russia's war. Portraying Ukraine's resistance as merely a NATO-driven proxy war dismisses the agency of Ukrainians fighting against colonization. A truly decolonial perspective must acknowledge that Ukraine is not just a piece on a Western geopolitical chessboard but a people with a long history of resisting Russian domination.
That history informs current skepticism. Why should Ukraine trust new security assurances? The 1994 Budapest Memorandum was supposed to guarantee Ukraine's territorial integrity in exchange for giving up its nuclear weapons. Signed by the United States, the United Kingdom, and Russia, it offered security assurances against military aggression in return for Ukraine's commitment to denuclearization. However, the failure to uphold these guarantees severely damaged the credibility of international security agreements. The same applies to the Minsk agreements, which Russia also disregarded, claiming they were
not bound by them.
For Ukraine, the failure of past assurances serves as a stark reminder of the limits of nonbinding diplomatic guarantees, especially in the context of an anti-colonial struggle. Despite explicit commitments from major powers to uphold Ukraine's sovereignty, Russia blatantly violated the agreement, while the United States and the United Kingdom, though condemning Russia's actions and providing military aid, did not fully uphold their commitments under the Budapest Memorandum. As global powers attempt to influence Ukraine's decisions, it is entirely understandable that Ukraine would be skeptical of security promises, particularly those tied to concessions like territorial loss.
The implications of U.S.
President Donald Trump's rhetoric heighten concerns about the normalization of imperialism. In recent statements, Trump suggested that because Russia took land and suffered military losses, its territorial conquest should be accepted. This perspective does not oppose imperial power but instead reinforces it by treating territorial expansion through war as a natural part of global politics. Such a stance directly contradicts anti-imperialist principles, which reject land grabs as a means of legitimizing power.
This concept of imperialists taking land is not peace, it is domination. It legitimizes conquest under the guise of diplomacy and excuses similar policies elsewhere. Trump's rhetoric extends beyond Ukraine, as seen in his proposal that the U.S. should "
own Gaza" after having funded its destruction. Such suggestions reduce the right to self-determination to a bargaining chip for powerful nations. Moreover, his policies on extraterritorial detention, such as using Guantánamo Bay for mass deportations, reflect the same colonial logic where land, borders, and even human lives are treated as assets to be shuffled and controlled by imperial powers. This is not about security or peace; it is about consolidating power through force and coercion.
While some in Ukraine and Eastern Europe may be bewildered by a segment of the Western left's inability to stand in solidarity with their struggles, there are deeper reasons for this disconnect. These deeply held beliefs are not merely the product of internet conspiracy theories, flawed praxis, or misinformation. The Western left is keenly aware of its own governments' history of exploiting humanitarian intervention, breaking promises to foreign nations, and engaging in imperialism. This skepticism dates to the Cold War era, when it resisted red scare tactics and anti-communist propaganda that were wielded to justify war and nationalism.
Building solidarity and trust between the Western left and Ukrainians requires bridging this divide. While those in the West best understand their own governments and institutions, Ukrainians fighting for survival are confronting a different imperial force, Russia. Yet to many on the Western left, Russia has long been the manufactured boogeyman used to justify imperialist wars.
Decolonizing the narrative on Ukraine means rejecting the imperialist framing that treats territorial conquest as an inevitable outcome of war and instead centering Ukrainian voices. Too often, discussions are shaped by Western geopolitical anxieties rather than the perspectives of those resisting Russian domination. A truly decolonial approach affirms Ukraine's struggle as one of self-determination against imperial rule, not merely a proxy in great-power politics.
Trump's rhetoric reinforces imperialism, not peace. By suggesting that Russia's land seizures should be accepted due to its military losses, he legitimizes conquest as a political norm. This logic extends beyond Ukraine—his proposal that the U.S. should "own Gaza" and his calls to use Guantánamo Bay for mass deportations further reflect a colonial mindset where land, borders, and human lives are bargaining chips for the powerful.
Solidarity demands more than opposition to Western militarism; it requires confronting Russia's colonial ambitions and supporting those fighting for sovereignty. A just peace cannot be built on the normalization of land grabs and forced submission. Instead, it must be rooted in resisting empire in all its forms and standing with those asserting their right to self-determination.
