Security cannot be outsourced through promises or alliances; it must be built, sustained and ultimately owned by the state itself
The ongoing conflict between Russia and Ukraine has revealed a profound truth: security cannot be purchased; it must be cultivated. Once the mechanisms of self-defense deteriorate, recovery becomes exceedingly difficult. This discourse does not oppose alliances, but it critiques dependency that masquerades as strategy.
In 1994, Ukraine relinquished approximately 1,700 nuclear warheads, the world's third-largest arsenal, in exchange for the Budapest Memorandum's "security assurances." This was not merely disarmament; it was the forfeiture of agenda-setting authority. Ukraine traded concrete deterrence for diplomatic promises that proved hollow when Russia annexed Crimea in 2014 and launched a full-scale invasion in 2022.
Despite Ukraine's military strategy being marked by brilliance, adaptability and courage, it has been constrained by the timelines for weapon releases, targeting restrictions and escalation management preferences dictated by its allies. The modern battlefield transcends territorial considerations; it encompasses decision-making processes. Ukraine has been compelled to operate with one hand metaphorically tied, as it must seek permission for critical actions. This discussion formed the first risk, namely the risk of exclusion from decision-making processes.
The consequences were mathematically predictable. Between February 2022 and January 2025, Ukraine received $66.5 billion in U.S. military assistance alone, with total international commitments reaching $187 billion. These figures reveal the staggering cost of dependency: Ukraine's security became a budget line item in foreign capitals, subject to political winds thousands of miles away.
The second risk is about the fluidity of ally priorities. Following two decades of involvement in the Middle East, the withdrawal from Afghanistan, a strategic recalibration toward great-power competition with China, and the war it launched in Iran resulted in substantial reputational losses. American foreign policy is undergoing significant changes. Ukraine has never constituted a permanent priority for Washington; rather, it has been a contingent concern, activated by Russian aggression and European indecision.
Ukraine is confronting the second peril of dependency: its security is contingent upon the discretionary spending of its allies. When priorities shift, and they inevitably do, decline is abrupt. The cessation of artillery shell deliveries may occur not due to halted production but because decision-makers in a distant capital have deemed Ukraine no longer worthy of support.
Perhaps the most insidious aspect of Ukraine's dependency is the one least visible to the public: capability capture. Ukrainian forces have become highly proficient in operating advanced Western military platforms, such as High Mobility Artillery Rocket System (HIMARS), Patriot batteries, and, eventually, F-16s, alongside sophisticated ISR systems. However, proficiency does not equate to sovereignty. Each advanced system that Ukraine employs carries invisible strings: dependencies on maintenance, software restrictions, ammunition supply chains dictated by foreign production schedules, and cryptographic keys subject to remote modification. While the Ukrainian military has evolved into a skilled operator of American and European weaponry, it has not achieved the capacity to independently produce strategic effects.
This represents the third operational risk: technological feudalism. Ukraine can utilize foreign weaponry to defend external interests, but cannot forge its own capabilities. Its defense industrial base, which was systematically neglected during the post-Soviet transition and subsequently dismantled by corruption and market shocks, cannot replicate the systems currently employed to counter Russian advances.
The numbers expose the paradox: Ukraine produces 20 Bohdana howitzers monthly and has achieved 90% localization for some systems, yet still depends on foreign cryptographic keys and production schedules for advanced platforms. The nation has become a skilled operator of foreign weaponry, not an independent producer of strategic effects. Ukraine has emerged as a prominent military consumer but remains far from being a military producer.
Is there an exit from this predicament? For Ukraine, likely not during this conflict. Three decades of industrial neglect cannot be reversed in months. However, the lesson for other middle powers like Taiwan, Poland and South Korea is structural: strategic autonomy requires redundancy. Multiple suppliers, domestic production capacities, and asymmetric capabilities that require no great-power approval for deployment. Most crucially, it requires the acknowledgment that perfect security is unattainable and that the risks associated with self-reliance may ultimately prove safer than the certainty of dependency.
Ukraine's tragedy lies in its decision to dismantle a nuclear arsenal it could not sustain in exchange for assurances that ultimately proved illusory. It spent three decades navigating the ambiguous space of Western engagement, neither fully integrated nor entirely abandoned, until Russia precipitated a reckoning. The ongoing war is being fought with extraordinary valor, yet it is largely conducted with foreign weaponry, according to externally imposed rules, and in pursuit of outcomes defined by others.
This is a structural assessment. The reality remains that every state bears responsibility for its own survival. Alliances serve to amplify power, but they cannot supplant it. When crises arise, as they did for Ukraine in February 2022, nations discover whether they have established a solid foundation or if they have been residing in someone else's accommodations, grateful for shelter while neglecting to recognize their lack of autonomy.
The world has been taken aback by Ukraine's resilience. However, the deeper revelation, one that necessitates a reevaluation of security paradigms in the 21st century, is the extent to which a nation can be disarmed while remaining heavily armed, how thoroughly sovereignty can be compromised while national symbols continue to fly, and how profoundly we have misunderstood the essence of true security.
Security is a practice, not a commodity, and, like all practices, if one ceases to engage in it independently, one ultimately forgets how to do so.