Almost every day, we hear new warnings about the possibility of a Russian attack against NATO. Defense analysts develop scenarios and conduct war games, intelligence services assess Russia's military capabilities and the Kremlin's intentions and politicians urge societies to prepare for the worst. All of this is necessary. Yet too often, we fail to ask the most important question: what must be done to ensure that Russia never embarks on another act of aggression?

Far too much energy is spent debating who should talk to Russia and how. Far too little is devoted to discussing how to bring about Russia's defeat in the imperial wars of its own making.

More than four years after the start of Russia's full-scale invasion, there are still those who believe that sufficiently skillful diplomacy can persuade the Kremlin to abandon its objectives. That all we need is the right mediator, the right format or the right compromise. Reality has proved mercilessly different.

Russia did not start this war because it lacked security. It did not invade Ukraine because it feared a NATO attack. If that were the case, we would see extensive defensive fortifications and military preparations along Russia's western border. During a recent visit to our eastern frontier, I asked one of our border guards whether there was any sign on the other side of the border of defensive structures suggesting that Russia genuinely feared NATO. His answer was telling: no, of course not.

Russia operates according to the opposite logic. It prepares for opportunities, not threats. Its military planning rests on the assumption that weakness and hesitation among its adversaries create openings for further conquest. Its strategic objectives have not changed: Ukraine must fall and NATO must fracture.

It is therefore hardly surprising that every attempt to secure peace without addressing the root causes of aggression has reached a dead end. Ukraine has repeatedly demonstrated its willingness to agree to ceasefires and engage in negotiations. It did so in the early weeks of the war and it has done so repeatedly through various peace initiatives supported by international partners. Moscow's response has always been the same: nyet.

For the Kremlin, negotiations are not a path to peace. They are another instrument for achieving its objectives by different means. Talks are used to buy time, exhaust opponents, undermine Western unity and seek relief from sanctions. As long as Russia believes that time is on its side, it has little incentive to end the war.

That is why we should also be cautious of voices in Washington and elsewhere that speak of a lasting peace while avoiding any discussion of the prerequisites for a just peace.

Peace without justice is not peace at all. It is merely a ceasefire before the next war. If the aggressor is left convinced that borders can be redrawn by force and that democratic societies will lose patience before it does, then the next conflict becomes only a matter of time.

History teaches us this lesson repeatedly. Every time aggression has gone unpunished or been rewarded with concessions, it has led to further demands. It happened in Europe in the 1930s. It happened in Georgia after 2008. It happened after the occupation of Crimea in 2014. The hope that limited concessions would produce a more moderate Russia has proved to be an illusion.

So what does Russia's defeat actually mean?

It does not necessarily mean the collapse of the Russian state or all-encompassing chaos. Russia's defeat means, above all, that the Kremlin fails to achieve its military and political objectives in Ukraine. It means recognizing that aggression does not pay. It means that Ukraine preserves its sovereignty and its right to determine its own future. It means that Russia's political elite must acknowledge that this war was a strategic mistake. It means that those responsible for war crimes are held accountable. It means that the damage caused by aggression is compensated.

Only under such circumstances can the conditions emerge for a just and lasting peace. Not because Russia will suddenly transform into a different country overnight, but because its leadership will be forced to confront reality.

Europe and America are therefore not faced with a choice between war and peace. The real choice is between a just and durable peace and a false peace that merely prepares the ground for another war. If we genuinely wish to avoid the day when Russia tests NATO's unity and resolve, warnings and defense plans alone will not suffice.

We must be willing to speak openly about Russia's defeat. More importantly, we must act to bring it about. Supporting Ukraine is of critical importance because every day Ukraine holds the line, it is defending the rest of Europe as well.

And if we can finally move beyond the absurd formula — that Ukraine must not lose, but Russia must not win, a phrase still heard all too often in Europe's diplomatic corridors — and instead focus on victory, then there is reason for hope.

But to do that, we must first overcome one deeply ingrained fear: the fear of Russia's defeat.

Too often, Russia's defeat is portrayed as an uncontrollable catastrophe, the consequences of which would be worse than the continuation of aggression itself. This fear has become one of the Kremlin's most effective weapons.

We are warned of escalation, unpredictability and chaos. As a result, we begin to limit our own resolve and constrain our own determination. Yet the alternative is not stability. The alternative is the normalization of aggression. If we accept the notion that Russia must not be allowed to lose, we effectively accept that it has the right to impose its will on its neighbors by force.

A just and lasting peace in Europe will not be built on fear of Russia's defeat, but on the understanding that aggression must end in defeat. We should not fear Russia's defeat. We should fear a world in which Russia comes to believe that it cannot lose.

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