Ukraine Must Fight Before Negotiating, Military Expert Argues

The article references war crimes, death, destruction, and forced deportations by Russian forces against Ukrainian civilians and infrastructure.
Force compelled the Russians to withdraw. Force will eject them from the south.
A retired general argues Ukraine must continue fighting to achieve the military victories that will force Putin to negotiate seriously.
Mark

So the argument here is that Ukraine shouldn't negotiate until it's won more on the battlefield. But how do you measure "enough" fighting? When does Ukraine have enough leverage?

Mimi

Dubik points to specific territorial goals — particularly the southern coast and the ports Russia controls. He's saying Ukraine needs to demonstrate it can actually eject Russia from those areas, or at least make it clear Russia can't hold them. That's the threshold.

Luke

But that's one retired general's assessment. We don't know what Zelensky's actual military capacity is, how long Ukrainian forces can sustain this level of fighting, or whether the weapons and aid from the West will continue at current levels. Those are open questions.

Mark

The piece mentions Putin's "Plan B" — partition, economic strangulation, destroying infrastructure. Is that actually what's happening, or is that Dubik's interpretation of Russian strategy?

Mimi

It's his interpretation, based on what Russia has done and what Putin has said. The forced deportations and destruction are documented. Whether it's a coherent "Plan B" or just what happens when an invasion stalls is harder to say.

Luke

Exactly. And there's another gap: Dubik assumes Putin won't negotiate seriously unless he's defeated militarily. But we don't actually know Putin's red lines, or whether there's any configuration of battlefield losses that would move him to genuine negotiation versus just buying time.

Mark

He does address that — he says any agreement needs security guarantees and that Russia won't accept them unless forced. So even if they negotiate, the real question is whether Putin will honor whatever is agreed.

Mimi

Right. That's the deeper problem Dubik is naming. It's not just about winning territory. It's about whether any agreement with Russia can actually hold, given the history of broken commitments.

Luke

But that's also an argument for negotiating sooner rather than later, potentially — to lock in whatever agreement is possible before the war grinds on and causes more damage. Dubik doesn't really engage with that counterargument.

Mark

So the piece is making a strategic case, but it's not addressing the human cost of waiting — more deaths, more destruction, more displacement.

Mimi

No, it mentions war crimes and forced deportations, but it doesn't weigh those against the cost of continued fighting. It's a military strategist's argument, not a humanitarian one.

Luke

And that matters. Because the reader needs to know: this is one perspective on how to end the war, not a proven strategy. The outcome depends on factors Dubik can't control or fully predict.

  • Russia's continued hold on Ukraine's southern coastline gives Putin economic leverage that no ceasefire should be allowed to freeze in place.
  • Ukraine's battlefield victories in the north, east, and Kherson have shifted momentum, but those gains remain fragile and incomplete.
  • A premature halt to fighting risks signaling to Putin — and to wavering allies — that Ukraine's military pressure has reached its ceiling.
  • Dubik warns that Putin's two-decade campaign to subordinate Ukraine will not yield to diplomacy alone; only sustained military cost can alter his calculus.
  • The path forward, as Dubik frames it, is continued fighting until Russia faces the undeniable failure of its 2022 invasion and the genuine vulnerability of its 2014 annexations.
  • Any eventual peace must be anchored in firm security guarantees and economic reconstruction — terms Russia will only accept under duress, not goodwill.

In November 2022, a retired American general offered a sobering counsel rooted in the oldest logic of statecraft: that the terms of peace are written on the battlefield before they are signed at the table. James Dubik, writing from the Institute for the Study of War, argued that Ukraine's recent military gains had improved its position but not yet secured it — and that a premature ceasefire would grant Vladimir Putin the one resource he most needed: time. The deeper question he posed was not whether to negotiate, but whether Ukraine had yet earned the standing from which a just and durable peace becomes possible.

In November 2022, retired U.S. Army Lieutenant General James Dubik made a pointed argument: Ukraine should not come to the negotiating table until it had fought its way to a position of undeniable strength. Writing as a senior fellow at the Institute for the Study of War, Dubik warned that a ceasefire negotiated too soon would give Vladimir Putin exactly what he needed — time to regroup, rearm, and resume his long-standing effort to reduce Ukraine to a Russian satellite state.

Dubik's case rested on a clear-eyed reading of the conflict's trajectory. Ukraine's military successes in the north and east, along with Russia's withdrawal from Kherson, had meaningfully improved Zelensky's hand. But Russia still controlled territory along Ukraine's southern coast — land essential to its economic survival — and to negotiate now would be to reward aggression while leaving Putin with options he had not yet exhausted.

At the heart of Dubik's analysis was an irreconcilable clash of aims. Putin sought a compliant, Moscow-controlled Ukraine. Ukraine sought what Dubik called its birthright: sovereignty, self-determination, and territorial integrity. These positions admitted no comfortable middle ground. He drew a parallel to Lincoln's refusal to treat slavery as a negotiable question — some demands, he suggested, cannot be split.

Dubik traced Putin's ambitions across two decades: from backing pro-Russian candidates and sowing narratives of Ukrainian illegitimacy, to the 2014 annexation of Crimea and parts of the Donbas, to the full-scale 2022 invasion aimed at toppling Zelensky entirely. With that initial plan in ruins, Putin had shifted to a grimmer strategy — seizing ports, destroying infrastructure, and deporting civilians, while betting that winter and alliance fatigue would erode Ukraine's support.

This was precisely why, Dubik argued, Ukraine could not afford to pause. A ceasefire would hand Putin the breathing room he desperately needed and signal that Ukraine's momentum had stalled. Force had already compelled Russian withdrawals from Kyiv, Kharkiv, and Kherson. Only continued pressure — or the credible threat of it — could dislodge Russia from the south and foreclose Putin's remaining paths to victory.

Dubik did not pretend this was an easy position. War, he acknowledged, is hard business. But negotiating from weakness, he argued, would be worse — leaving Putin to believe he could still dictate terms or preserve some route to Ukrainian subjugation. When peace eventually came, it would need to include genuine security guarantees and economic recovery assistance. Russia would not agree to such terms willingly. The time for talking, Dubik concluded, would arrive only after Ukraine had made victory unimaginable for the other side.

A retired U.S. Army lieutenant general made a stark case in November 2022: Ukraine should not negotiate with Russia until it has fought its way into a position of undeniable strength. James Dubik, a senior fellow at the Institute for the Study of War, argued that a ceasefire negotiated too early would hand Vladimir Putin exactly what he needed most — time to regroup, rearm, and pursue his long-standing goal of reducing Ukraine to a Russian satellite state.

Dubik's argument rested on a simple historical observation: it was fighting, not diplomacy, that had already shifted the balance. Ukraine's military successes in the north and east, combined with Russia's withdrawal from Kherson, had improved Volodymyr Zelensky's negotiating position measurably. But those gains, Dubik contended, were incomplete. Russia still controlled territory along Ukraine's southern coast — territory essential to Ukraine's economic survival. To sit down at a negotiating table now, he wrote, would be to reward aggression and leave Putin with options he had not yet exhausted.

The core of Dubik's analysis was that Putin's objectives and Ukraine's were irreconcilable without force. Putin wanted Ukraine as a vassal state, compliant and controlled from Moscow. Ukraine wanted what Dubik called its birthright: self-determination, political sovereignty, and territorial integrity. These positions could not be split without one side surrendering its fundamental claim. Dubik drew a parallel to Abraham Lincoln's refusal to accept the South's demand that slavery be called right — some demands, he suggested, cannot be negotiated.

Putin's pursuit of this goal had spanned two decades, Dubik noted. He had first tried indirect methods: backing pro-Russian candidates in Ukrainian elections, promoting narratives designed to undermine Ukrainian independence movements. When those failed, he moved to direct action. In 2014, he invaded and annexed Crimea and parts of the Donbas. When Ukraine continued to assert its sovereignty, he invaded again in 2022, intending to topple Zelensky and install a compliant government. Each time, Dubik argued, Putin had believed he could achieve his aims through force or the threat of force.

Now, with his initial invasion plan in ruins, Putin had shifted to what Dubik called Plan B: partition Ukraine by force, seize its ports to strangle its economy, and destroy its social and cultural infrastructure through physical destruction and forced deportation. Winter was setting in. The resolve of Ukraine's allies might weaken. Putin, Dubik suggested, believed he still had time and leverage on his side — that Russia, though bloodied, was not yet defeated.

This was why, Dubik argued, Ukraine could not afford to negotiate now. A ceasefire would give Putin the breathing space he desperately needed. It would signal that Ukraine's military momentum had reached its limit. It would suggest that the international coalition supporting Ukraine might fracture. Instead, Dubik wrote, Ukraine and its allies should continue fighting until Russia had no choice but to accept that its 2022 invasion had failed and its 2014 annexations were genuinely at risk. Force had already compelled Russian withdrawals from Kyiv, Kharkiv, and Kherson. Force, or the credible threat of it, would be needed to eject Russia from the south.

Dubik acknowledged that this was a hard position. War was hard business. But the alternative — negotiating from weakness, allowing Putin to believe he could still dictate terms or preserve some path to Ukrainian subjugation — would be worse. Any eventual peace agreement, he argued, would need to include firm security guarantees for Ukraine's future and assistance to rebuild its economy. Russia would not agree to such terms unless forced to do so. That was the price of aggression. Negotiations might come eventually, but not yet. The time for talking would arrive only after Ukraine had fought its way to a position where Putin could no longer imagine victory.

A ceasefire negotiated now would provide Putin with the strategic pause he desperately needs and signal that Ukraine's military momentum has reached its limit
— James Dubik's argument
Any eventual peace agreement must include firm security guarantees for Ukraine's future and assistance to rebuild its economy, and Russia will not agree to such terms unless forced to do so
— James Dubik's argument
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