The popular imagination, particularly in the West, often views peace negotiations as a simple matter of political will. If only the leaders would sit, talk, and compromise, wars could end overnight. Reality is harsher. In Ukraine, President Volodymyr Zelensky finds himself ensnared not merely by external pressures from Moscow or Washington, but by the iron bars of his own legal framework and the open insubordination of his military commanders. Zelensky’s hands are tied, not by weakness, but by the weight of Ukraine’s constitutional order and a martial culture that increasingly sees negotiation as betrayal.

The legal barriers are formidable. In 2022, following Russia’s annexation of additional Ukrainian territories beyond Crimea, the Verkhovna Rada, Ukraine’s Parliament, passed Law No. 2114-IX, formally prohibiting any negotiations with President Vladimir Putin. Article 1 of the law bluntly states: “Negotiations with the President of the Russian Federation, Vladimir Putin, regarding the end of the war and peace negotiations are impossible.” This statute is not mere rhetoric; it has binding force under Ukrainian law. Any Ukrainian official, including Zelensky himself, who engages in negotiations under the proscribed conditions risks acting ultra vires, beyond their legal authority, and thus committing an impeachable offense.

Furthermore, Ukraine’s Constitution presents towering obstacles. Article 2 declares the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Ukraine to be “indivisible and inviolable.” Article 17 amplifies this, mandating that “the protection of the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Ukraine shall be the most important function of the State.” Thus, any recognition of Russia’s annexation of Crimea, or the formal granting of autonomy to the Donbas regions (Donetsk and Luhansk), would plainly contradict the constitutional text. No Ukrainian president, however pragmatic or exhausted, possesses the lawful authority to cede or compromise on Ukrainian territory without first changing the Constitution itself.

But constitutional amendments in Ukraine are neither swift nor simple. Article 155 outlines a burdensome process: a bill must first garner a simple majority in the Rada, then be approved by a Constitutional Court review, then pass a two-thirds supermajority vote in Parliament, and finally receive the President’s signature. Certain provisions, including those relating to the territorial integrity of Ukraine, are even more deeply entrenched under Article 157, which forbids their amendment under conditions of martial law or a state of emergency. Ukraine has been under martial law since February 24, 2022. Consequently, until martial law is lifted, no legal amendment recognizing Russia’s territorial gains can even be considered.

Thus, the legal structure forms an almost unbreakable shield against any negotiated settlement recognizing the loss of Crimea or granting autonomy to Donbas. Even if Zelensky desired a compromise, the constitutional architecture demands not merely his personal sacrifice but a vast national consensus, expressed through legislative supermajorities and judicial approval, and even then, only after the suspension of martial law.

If the legal chains were not heavy enough, the political and military landscape adds another layer of peril. Just this week, a Ukrainian Army brigade commander appeared on national television and openly threatened President Zelensky, warning that he would “regret” any move toward negotiations or territorial concessions. This is not garden-variety political disagreement; it is raw, undisguised insubordination.

In classical political theory, the monopoly of violence is reserved to the state, wielded through a chain of command subordinate to civilian authority. Ukraine’s military now teeters dangerously on the edge of severing that chain. It is not just one unruly officer: the sentiment of uncompromising resistance to any negotiated peace is widespread among Ukrainian troops, many of whom have sacrificed too much blood to tolerate what they would see as a betrayal. Zelensky faces not just political backlash but the real threat of mutiny, or at least widespread disobedience within the ranks.

History offers grim parallels. Consider the French Third Republic during the Algerian crisis, where French military officers, furious at the prospect of decolonization, attempted a coup against President Charles de Gaulle. Or think of the Confederate resistance during Reconstruction, where defeated but defiant soldiers undermined political efforts to reintegrate the South. In both cases, military discontent imperiled civilian rule and prolonged national suffering. Ukraine now dances on the precipice of a similar fate.

Thus, Zelensky is trapped between law and arms, between constitutional text and military passion. To act precipitously, to engage in unauthorized negotiations, would not only trigger legal impeachment but might also shatter the military discipline that has, thus far, preserved Ukraine’s survival. To do nothing, however, is to preside over endless bloodshed with no prospect of victory.

Given these grim facts, the only lawful and realistic path forward involves two concurrent actions: a presidential election and a constitutional referendum. Only an electoral mandate could provide the political legitimacy necessary for a new president, or a re-elected Zelensky, to propose amending the Constitution. Only a constitutional referendum could empower the Ukrainian people themselves to decide whether peace, even with territorial concessions, is worth the price.

This approach would be arduous. It would require the suspension of martial law, a dangerous move in a time of war, to permit the legal machinery of amendment to operate. It would require a massive public campaign to persuade Ukrainians to accept painful compromises, knowing that their sacrifices might feel, to many, betrayed. It would require safeguarding the electoral and referendum process from military sabotage or populist fury. But it is the only legitimate way out.

To borrow from Lincoln’s famous reflection during America’s darkest hour, Ukraine cannot endure permanently half-war and half-peace. It will become all one thing or all the other. Either the constitutional and military order must bend, lawfully and through popular will, toward compromise, or Ukraine must prepare for total war, risking complete exhaustion.

The tragedy of Zelensky’s predicament is not his personal weakness but the formidable strength of Ukraine’s own legal and martial structures. They have protected the nation against foreign conquest. Now, they threaten to trap it in endless war. Only through the conscious, lawful, and courageous mobilization of democratic processes can Ukraine hope to escape.

Peace, if it comes, will not be negotiated behind closed doors in Geneva or Istanbul. It must be hammered out in the open, in ballots and referenda, in the bright sunlight of a free people choosing, painfully, between continued sacrifice and national survival.

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