“Recognizing 2014: The Legal and Moral Imperative for Full Reparations for Russian Aggression”

“Recognizing 2014: The Legal and Moral Imperative for Full Reparations for Russian Aggression”

By: Kateryna Kyrychenko, Dr. Paul R. Williams, and Sindija Beta

Why are the earliest victims of Russia’s war in Ukraine — those targeted since 2014 — still excluded from reparations, when it was exactly the failure to respond to that initial aggression that directly enabled the full-scale invasion in 2022?

In February 2014, the Russian Federation launched its aggression against Ukraine through the illegal occupation and annexation of Crimea, followed shortly by direct military involvement in the Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts. This marked the beginning of a protracted and unlawful use of force that escalated dramatically in 2022 as a full-scale invasion. Today, however, Ukraine’s flagship reparations mechanism — the Register of Damage for Ukraine — recognizes only the latter phase.

While the Register represents a groundbreaking achievement in war-related reparations, its current framework excludes thousands of victims of Russia’s initial aggression. As it stands, the Register only accepts claims for losses incurred from February 24, 2022, onward. This gap in coverage creates a dangerous precedent: it implies that the initial eight years of aggression, occupation, and systematic rights violations somehow fall outside the scope of justice.

The main explanation for this cutoff, as Executive Director of the Register of Damage for Ukraine, Markiyan Kliuchkovskyi has noted, is that the 2022 invasion marked the point at which the global community coalesced in recognizing Russia’s conduct as a full act of aggression. This view reflects the political reality of 2022 — when support for Ukraine surged and international mechanisms mobilized. But from a legal standpoint, Russia’s aggression, along with related damages and human rights violations, began in 2014.

In fact, both international legal institutions and political bodies have consistently recognized that Russia’s aggression began in 2014 — not in 2022. Failing to incorporate that reality into the reparations process risks distorting both legal precedent and the lived experience of victims. This omission is not merely a technical oversight. It risks undermining both the credibility of the reparations process and the legal coherence of Ukraine’s broader accountability architecture.

Beyond its legal and moral implications, this exclusion also carries serious consequences for international security. The failure to hold Russia accountable in 2014 sent a clear signal: limited territorial conquest and hybrid warfare could go unpunished. The result was predictable — a full-scale invasion eight years later. Impunity breeds escalation.

What Constitutes the Crime of Aggression?

The crime of aggression, as set out in the Rome Statute, covers grave violations such as invasion, military occupation, and annexation by the use of force. For an act to qualify, it must constitute a “manifest violation of the Charter of the United Nations,” particularly a violation of the prohibition set out in Article 2(4) against the use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of another state. Russia’s actions in Ukraine since 2014 meet this standard. To understand why, it is necessary to analyze the four key elements of the crime of aggression as defined in Article 8 bis of the Rome Statute and elaborated in the Elements of Crimes adopted by the Assembly of States Parties.

First, the crime of aggression requires an act of aggression — defined as the use of armed force by one state against the sovereignty, territorial integrity, or political independence of another. In February 2014, forces without insignia (“little green men”), now known to have been deployed by Russia, entered Crimea, took control of key infrastructure and government buildings, blockaded Ukrainian military bases, and facilitated a staged referendum under the presence of occupying troops. These acts were conducted without Ukraine’s consent and in direct violation of its sovereignty. Shortly thereafter, Russia provided military, logistical, and financial support to armed separatist groups in Donetsk and Luhansk and later deployed its own regular troops, leading to open armed hostilities. These actions constitute instances of unlawful use of force by one state against another.

Second, the leadership element requires that the act of aggression be committed by a person in a position effectively to exercise control over or direct the political or military action of a state. This element was also met in 2014. The occupation of Crimea and involvement in Donbas were not spontaneous or decentralized operations; they were executed with the full knowledge, authorization, and strategic direction of the highest echelons of the Russian state. President Vladimir Putin publicly admitted Russian involvement in Crimea shortly after the purported annexation. Russian government documents, parliamentary approvals, military command structures, and the coordinated role of Russian state security services all point to centrally planned and authorized aggression. The operation was not rogue or peripheral — it was a deliberate act of the Russian state.

Third, for the crime of aggression to be prosecutable under the Rome Statute, the act must constitute a manifest violation of the United Nations Charter, considering its character, gravity, and scale. Russia’s annexation of Crimea was not a minor border skirmish or isolated incursion; it was the first forcible seizure of territory on the European continent since World War II. Russia’s actions involved the occupation and absorption of nearly 27,000 square kilometers of Ukrainian territory, a referendum held under military duress, and subsequent violations of the rights of the Crimean population. In Donbas, the use of proxy warfare, heavy weaponry, and regular Russian troops escalated the conflict and caused thousands of civilian and military deaths. The sheer scope and consequences of these acts render them grave breaches of international peace — and manifestly illegal.

Fourth, the use of force must be attributable to one state against another — demonstrating the state-to-state character of the aggression. This requirement is likewise fulfilled. Ukraine is a sovereign, internationally recognized state. The actions of the Russian military and security services, as well as the command and support provided to proxy forces in Donetsk and Luhansk, are attributable to the Russian Federation under international law. Both the “effective control” test (used by the International Court of Justice) and the “overall control” test (used by the ICTY) are satisfied by the documented coordination, equipping, financing, and strategic command provided by Russia. In fact, the European Court of Human Rights and the International Court of Justice have both confirmed Russia’s effective control over Crimea and parts of eastern Ukraine from 2014 onward.

Legal Continuity from 2014 Onward

Since 2014, international institutions have consistently recognized that a legal conflict between Russia and Ukraine began well before the 2022 full-scale invasion. In March 2014, the UN General Assembly adopted Resolution 68/262, affirming Ukraine’s territorial integrity and calling the Russian referendum in Crimea invalid. While this resolution did not use the term “aggression,” it rejected Russia’s annexation claim and urged all states not to recognize any alteration of Crimea’s status. Later resolutions, including 71/205 (2016), 72/190 (2018), and 73/263 (2019), continued to describe Russian control over Crimea as an “occupation,” condemn ongoing violations of international law, and reiterate Ukraine’s sovereignty over Crimea.

In parallel, international legal bodies confirmed the nature of the situation as one involving direct confrontation between states. The Office of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court assessed that an international armed conflict began “no later than 26 February 2014”, based on the deployment of Russian forces in Crimea. As noted above, the European Court of Human Rights and the International Court of Justice have also found that Russia has effective control over Ukraine’s eastern regions. Under international humanitarian law, such control — particularly in the absence of Ukraine’s consent — constitutes occupation. That status is not just descriptive; it has legal consequences and, when lacking lawful justification, may constitute an unlawful use of force. The European Parliament has regularly cited 2014 as the start of the war in its resolutions and reports.

Although the term “aggression” may not always appear in these rulings or resolutions, their legal substance aligns with the criteria for the crime of aggression under Article 8 bis of the Rome Statute as discussed above. The facts recognized — including Russia’s unprovoked military intervention, unlawful occupation, and attempted annexation — correspond to acts such as invasion and occupation, which are expressly listed in the Rome Statute as forms of aggression when committed without lawful justification. These findings, therefore, are not mere symbolic gestures. Taken together, they reflect a consistent legal view that Russia’s occupation and, by extension, aggression began in 2014 — not in 2022.

Ukraine’s domestic legal framework reinforces this conclusion. The official date marking the start of Russian aggression — 20 February 2014 — is embedded in parliamentary resolutions, criminal provisions, and Constitutional Court jurisprudence.  Ukrainian statutes refer not merely to conflict or occupation, but to armed aggression and war crimes starting in 2014. In both international and national law, the legal and factual record points to a coherent position: Russia’s war against Ukraine began in 2014 and has involved continuous unlawful uses of force ever since, escalating in 2022.

Structural Injustice and Strategic Risk

By excluding claims from 2014 to 2022, the current reparations mechanism effectively denies redress to victims of occupation, torture, unlawful detention, property seizure, and forced displacement that occurred during those foundational years of the aggression. These victims — many of them from Crimea and eastern Ukraine — remain unacknowledged in one of the key mechanisms meant to deliver justice.

The implications extend beyond Ukraine. International accountability frameworks risk signaling to authoritarian regimes that so-called “slow aggression” — conducted incrementally or by proxy — will be tolerated or erased from legal memory. This undermines global deterrence and weakens the moral authority of international law.

Moreover, the current design inadvertently affirms a narrative that contradicts both law and reality on the ground — namely, that Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine only became criminal in 2022. This not only denies justice to earlier victims, but also fails to recognize that the aggression of 2022 was enabled — and emboldened — by the impunity of 2014. Correcting this is not simply about retroactive justice; it is about protecting future norms and ensuring that aggression is recognized when it starts, not when it becomes geopolitically inconvenient to ignore.

Toward a More Inclusive Register

Fortunately, legal and institutional solutions are within reach. The statute establishing the Register of Damage can be amended to extend eligibility to claims dating back to 2014. The newly established special tribunal for the crime of aggression against Ukraine does not set 2022 as the beginning of Russia’s aggression, rather it allows the judges to make a legal assessment on a case-by-case basis, which ensures that no arbitrary limitations are placed on justice and reinforces the continuity of legal responsibility.

The Register of Damages could adopt a similar approach and permit an assessment on a case-by-case basis rather than impose an outright limitation.

Conclusion: Building a Just Foundation for Peace

Recognizing 2014 as the starting point for reparations is not only legally sound — it is essential to honoring the dignity of all victims and reinforcing the international legal order. For Ukraine, it also ensures that the peace built in the future will rest on a foundation of integrity, not omission. 

And for the broader international community, it sends a critical message: impunity for early acts of aggression invites escalation. A reparations mechanism that begins in 2022 cannot deter future wars if it overlooks the unpunished aggression that made full-scale invasion possible. Justice delayed is dangerous — but justice denied can be catastrophic.

Russian Use of Rape as a Weapon of War in Ukraine

Russian Use of Rape as a Weapon of War in Ukraine

By: Dr. Gregory P. Noone, Sindija Beta, and Ropes & Gray

Introduction

Numerous investigative reports into the Russian full-scale invasion of Ukraine since 2022 have documented extensive and shocking use of sexual and gender-based violence (“SGBV”) by Russian nationals against Ukrainian civilians, prisoners of war, and other detainees.  Russia has long been responsible for a largely under-discussed and distressing amount of SGBV crimes, including rape.  Russian SGBV atrocities have historically been especially brutal during World War II in Germany, as well as Afghanistan, Chechnya, and Georgia.  Focus has recently turned to the question of how Russia could be held accountable for its use of SGBV as a weapon of war in Ukraine.  Various sources of international law provide prohibitions on the use of SGBV during armed conflict, and there have been successful examples of holding individual perpetrators accountable under international criminal law in past conflicts.  

As the Russian attacks on Ukraine continue unabated, it is appropriate to appraise the scale of SGBV committed, the international laws being breached, and the possible enforcement mechanisms.  

The Geneva Conventions and international law prohibitions against SGBV

Russia is a signatory to the Geneva Conventions, the principal treaties that constitute International Humanitarian Law (also known as the Law of Armed Conflict) and provide protections to civilians, as well as combatants, who are out of the fight due to being sick, wounded, shipwrecked, or prisoners of war, from the hazards of armed conflict.  Russia withdrew its ratification of the Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Convention in October 2019, which provided expanded protection to civilians as well as military and civilian medical workers.  However, the Third and Fourth Geneva Conventions as well as Additional Protocol II, each of which Russia is still obligated to comply with, forbid the use of rape and sexual violence against civilians and prisoners of war. 

Rape, and other forms of SGBV have, in the past, been understood to constitute torture, crimes against humanity, and war crimes.  “Crime against humanity” and “war crimes” are international crimes defined under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (“ICC”) and also form part of customary international law.  Their inclusion in customary international law is relevant, given that Russia is not a signatory to the Rome Statute, yet is still legally bound by the customary international law prohibiting SGBV.  Indeed, the United Nations Security Council – including Russia – unanimously adopted Resolution 1820, which states that “rape and other forms of sexual violence can constitute war crimes, crimes against humanity, or a constitutive act with respect to genocide.”  Similarly, the international community has repeatedly recognized rape as a form of torture, which is prohibited under several provisions of international law.  

All parties to international conflicts must respect and ensure respect for International Humanitarian Law by their armed forces and other persons or groups acting on their instructions, or under their direction or control.  Russia has not ensured adherence to the law, but has in fact directed, encouraged, or at the very least tolerated, the use of sexual violence by its armed forces, which constitutes a grave violation of International Humanitarian Law.

Beyond the applicability of International Humanitarian Law to armed conflicts, there are International Human Rights Laws that also prohibit SGBV.  Rape is also generally recognized as a form of legally prohibited gender discrimination.  The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights prohibits discrimination broadly.  The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women’s definition of discrimination is considered to include gender-based violence, which according to the UN Security Council (“UNSC”, “Security Council”), includes rape.  Importantly, Russia is a party to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women, and a permanent member of the UNSC.

 SGBV and rape in the Russian invasion of Ukraine

Since the start of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine by Russia on 24 February 2022, there have been widespread reports of rape and other sexual and gender-based violence committed by Russian armed forces against Ukrainian prisoners of war (at the end of 2024 there was an estimated 8,000 prisoners of war), other detainees, and civilians in Russian-occupied areas of Ukraine.  In fact, a representative of the U.N. Secretary-General on Sexual Violence in Conflict reported that Russia has been using these rapes as a deliberate strategy of terror in Ukraine: “When you hear women testify about Russian soldiers equipped with Viagra, it’s clearly a military strategy” and “there is consensus today on the fact that rapes are used as a military tactic, a terror tactic.”  A number of international organizations have conducted investigations to document this violence, including the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (“OHCHR”), UN Human Rights Council, the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (“OSCE”), and Human Rights Watch, among others.

SGBV and rape of prisoners of war / other detainees in the Russian invasion of Ukraine

The OSCE has, since July 2022, published six bi-yearly reports on violations of International Humanitarian Law and International Human Rights Law in Ukraine.  The OSCE noted a consistent pattern of rape committed by Russian armed forces against Ukrainian prisoners of war and civilian detainees, and the threat of rape used to terrorize Ukrainian detainees during interrogation by Russian armed forces.  Other forms of sexual violence by Russian armed forces included striking and electrocuting detainees’ genitals, coerced sexual acts, and threats of castration.  As one former male Ukrainian prisoner of war reported: “[T]here wasn’t one day I wasn’t threatened with my genitalia being cut off.”

In late 2024, the OHCHR interviewed 32 Ukrainian prisoners of war between 1 September to 30 November 2024 who reported being subjected to sexual violence, including rape.  One female prisoner of war reported that Russian law enforcement officers in a Russian-occupied area of Ukraine raped her almost daily for more than two months, purportedly to elicit information.

The Independent International Commission of Inquiry on Ukraine (“the Commission of Inquiry”) similarly reported on what it described as the “systematic use of sexual violence as a form of torture by Russian authorities in detention facilities.”  The Commission of Inquiry collected evidence of sexual violence committed “in 41 detention facilities of various types in the Russian Federation and areas under Russian control in Ukraine,” including rape and attempted rape.  Furthermore, a former Russian soldier told the Commission of Inquiry that such treatment of Ukrainian prisoners of war was “encouraged, or at a minimum tolerated, by higher-ups[.]” 

Within the context of detention, many documented victims of rape and sexual violence have been male Ukrainian prisoners of war.  However, in its latest report, the Commission of Inquiry reflected on the “particular vulnerability of female detainees to forms of sexual violence,” having reviewed numerous cases in which female Ukrainian prisoners of war and detainees were subjected to gang rape and other forms of violent torture by Russian soldiers.

SGBV and rape of civilians in the Russian invasion of Ukraine

Following Russian armed forces taking control of Ukrainian territories, there have been widespread reports of the rape of Ukrainian civilian men, women, and children by Russian armed forces.  Sexual violence including rape has been especially prevalent in residential areas in the context of forced home searches and home visits.  Victims of rape were frequently women in vulnerable situations – elderly, young, or women unable to flee due to care-giving responsibilities for elderly or disabled relatives.  The OHCHR further reported that the actions of Russian soldiers suggested they did not fear accountability, visiting the same houses twice and participating in gang rapes with other Russian soldiers.

A recent New York Times article recounted a woman’s story of surviving a violent rape by a Russian solder.  She now shares her story with other survivors as part of a growing community of Ukrainian women who suffered from SGBV as a result of Russia's armed aggression against Ukraine.  In her story, she described how a Russian soldier came to her home late at night and hit her with the butt of his rifle several times, knocking out her front teeth.  He then cut her abdomen with a knife and raped her on her couch.  The Russian soldier left six hours later and said he would come back in two days and kill her.  The article further recounted the story of two Russian soldiers pinning down, beating, and raping a local store owner in her front yard after the soldiers broke into her house and shot her husband. 

The Kyiv Independent reported frequent instances of rape and gang rape in and around Bucha, a town in Kyiv province that had been occupied by Russian armed forces.  The report explained that civilians were warned by some Russian soldiers not to let women out of the house to avoid being raped by other Russian soldiers.  The Commission of Inquiry reported that, in March and April 2022, female civilians in Kyiv province, Kharkiv province, and Kherson province were raped, in some cases multiple times, at gunpoint, and/or for hours at a time.

Reports of rape have also included men and children as victims.  The Commission of Inquiry reported that, in Kherson in August 2022, Russian soldiers raped and attempted to rape two male civilians using objects.  The OHCHR documented twelve cases of sexual violence by Russian armed forces against Ukrainian children – ten girls and two boys.  This included five cases of rape or gang rape of six girls between the ages of 13 and 17, and – in one instance – a soldier attempting to rape a mother in front of her three-year-old child.

Furthermore, Russia is likely using SGBV, including rape, as a tool to ethnically cleanse Ukraine.  For example, Ukraine’s ombudsman for human rights reported a case in which “[a]bout 25 girls and women aged 14 to 24 were systematically raped during the occupation in the basement of one house in Bucha. Nine of them are pregnant[.] Russian soldiers told them they would rape them to the point where they wouldn't want sexual contact with any man, to prevent them from having Ukrainian children."  Russia has a violent history of using rape as a tool for ethnic cleansing.  In the Second Chechen War, Russian authorities knew that raping Chechen women not only terrorized survivors, but would carry a series of long-established social implications within Chechen society that meant almost certain death for Chechen women.  Further, the death of Chechen mothers – the protectors of Chechen cultural norms – meant the eradication of the Chechen language and culture.

The true scale of the rape of civilians in Ukraine in residential areas occupied by Russian forces is likely to remain obscured for some time.  However, reports documenting civilian testimonies have established a clear pattern of SGBV at the hands of Russian occupying forces.  The head of the Ukraine team at Global Rights Compliance reported that “In several villages in the south we heard witnesses and survivors say that the Russian servicemen came in, occupied the village, and then looked specifically for the wives of Ukrainian soldiers, or their mothers or sisters.”  As noted above, the behaviour of the Russian soldiers who raped Ukrainian civilians demonstrated a lack of concern that their peers or commanders would hold them accountable, and rape often occurred with the participation of numerous soldiers. 

Institutions, organizations, and communities have begun to rally around SGBV survivors in Ukraine.  The Association of Women’s Lawyers of Ukraine “JurFem” partnered with UN Women to launch the “JurFem: Support” initiative to provide free legal advice and bring cases to court on behalf of survivors.  And SEMA Ukraine – an international community and advocacy organization – has emerged as a safe space for Ukrainian women who have suffered from Russian aggression and offers psychological, medical, legal, and financial support to survivors.

Enforcement mechanisms against the systematic use of rape as a weapon of war

International law provides mechanisms for holding both individuals and states accountable for violations of international law.  The International Court of Justice (“ICJ”), for instance, can hear disputes between states for violating conventions of international law that implicate rape.  Ukraine could bring a case against Russia before the ICJ, as it did in a 2017 case concerning terrorism financing and racial discrimination. 

Further, the ICC can exercise jurisdiction against a country that is not a party to the Rome Statute, such as Russia, if the alleged crimes occurred in the territory of a member state, such as Ukraine (although in Ukraine’s case, the ICC jurisdiction has been based on the two declarations it submitted accepting the Court’s jurisdiction since 2013).  For instance, the ICC prosecutor exercised ad hoc jurisdiction over Russia’s actions in Ukraine in February 2022 by opening an investigation that resulted in an ICC arrest warrant for Russian President Vladimir Putin in 2023.  Other potential venues for justice include the European Court of Human Rights, ad hoc tribunals, like the Special Tribunal for the Crime of Aggression against Ukraine, which is being widely discussed, and special courts.  Finally, such crimes can also be prosecuted in local Ukrainian courts – in 2022, the first trial of a Russian soldier for rape was held in absentia.

However, enforcement through these mechanisms has not ended the perpetration of sexual violence in armed conflicts.  The ICJ and ICC rely on the cooperation of states and the UNSC to ensure compliance with court orders.  However, Russia uses its veto power as a member of the Security Council to block any action to stop its aggression against Ukraine, and the courts’ reliance on state cooperation enables powerful states like Russia to evade accountability.  These political realities undermine efforts to enforce Russia’s compliance with international court orders. 

In addition to difficult political realities, there are other profound difficulties with securing justice for the victims of rape and other forms of SGBV in Ukraine.  Identifying perpetrators and securing physical evidence (including medical and DNA evidence) is often very challenging.  Reporting rape is particularly difficult where thorough investigations would rely on both the cooperation of occupying Russian forces, and the confidence of victims to report the crimes of Russian soldiers who may still be present in the region.  Even upon liberation, perpetrators usually fled the area or otherwise made detainment difficult.

If individual perpetrators cannot be identified, the doctrine of command responsibility may allow for superior officers who knew or should have known of the commission of rape and other offences to be held to account.  As stated in Article 86 of the Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Convention, “[t]he fact that a breach [] was committed by a subordinate does not absolve his superiors from penal or disciplinary responsibility, as the case may be, if they knew, or had information which should have enabled them to conclude [], that he was committing or was going to commit such a breach and if they did not take all feasible measures within their power to prevent or repress the breach.”  Article 86 supports the notion that evidence of negligence and/or willful blindness by superiors as to rape and SGBV can be provided in prosecution.  Further, such evidence can be provided in prosecution even where evidence as to a particular individual is insufficiently available to prosecute that individual who directly committed the act(s).

Conclusion

Several investigative and human rights mechanisms have reported detailed accounts of Russian soldiers perpetuating systematic sexual violence and rape against Ukrainian prisoners of war and civilians as part of Russia’s military “strategy” in Ukraine.  This shocking use of SGBV violates long-standing international law with which Russia has explicitly agreed to comply.  Despite obstacles to prosecution, several legal venues, including the ICJ, ICC, and ad hoc tribunals, provide Ukraine the opportunity to pursue justice on behalf of SGBV survivors, and international communities and organizations have stepped forward to provide survivors with legal and financial support. 

As the sexual torture of Ukrainian prisoners of war and civilians persists, it is imperative that the international community continue to document SGBV crimes and rapes by Russian soldiers and consider tailored solutions, such as the establishment of a special tribunal, to prosecute Russian war crimes and crimes against humanity involving SGBV and rape.

Plunder by Paperwork: Land Use and Legal Manipulation in Russian-Occupied Ukrainian Territories

Plunder by Paperwork: Land Use and Legal Manipulation in Russian-Occupied Ukrainian Territories

By: Kateryna Kyrychenko and Patricia Wiater

In war, land is more than terrain — it is power, memory, identity, and future. Nowhere is this clearer than in the Russian-occupied territories of Ukraine, where the battle is being waged not only with weapons but with registries, decrees, and legal manipulation. Russia’s strategy in Ukraine has not merely been to seize land — but to rewrite the law that governs it. Through reclassification, coerced registration, and demographic engineering, the occupying power is attempting to transform occupation into ownership — to fabricate a claim to sovereignty through legal means.

Beneath a facade of administrative normalcy lies a systematic campaign of illegal appropriation — one that violates both international humanitarian law and human rights protections. This blog post outlines the legal framework governing land under occupation, examines how Russia has sought to subvert it, and explains why land law is now a frontline of resistance.

From Crimea to Kherson: Bureaucratic Expropriation in Practice

Across occupied Ukrainian territories, Russia has used administrative mechanisms to entrench control and erase legal protections.

• In Crimea, following the 2014 annexation, vast tracts of public and private land were reclassified as federal Russian property. Ukrainian state lands, municipal holdings, and Crimean Tatar-owned plots were expropriated or re-registered. Since 2021, non-Russian citizens have been banned from owning land in most of Crimea — a policy that disenfranchises those who refused to accept Russian citizenship.

• In Donbas, beginning in 2014 with Russia’s covert military intervention and support for proxy forces, Ukrainian land and property registries were dismantled and replaced by pseudo-legal systems imposed by Russian-controlled occupation regimes calling themselves the “Luhansk People’s Republic” (LPR) and “Donetsk People’s Republic” (DPR). These unrecognized structures created legal ambiguity, making property rights difficult to verify, undermining restitution and obstructing future reconstruction or justice efforts.

• In the occupied parts of Kherson and Zaporizhzhia oblasts, landowners have been pressured to re-register under Russian law. Fertile land has been exploited for Russian agricultural exports, while resettlement programs are relocating Russian citizens — particularly military families — into seized Ukrainian property.

These policies are not ad hoc — they are deliberate attempts to engineer demographic change, dismantle Ukrainian sovereignty, and normalize conquest through legal infrastructure.

Occupation Is Not Sovereignty: The Legal Framework

International humanitarian law (IHL) draws a fundamental distinction between control and ownership. Under Article 55 of the 1907 Hague Regulations, an occupying power is not a sovereign but a usufructuary — a temporary administrator entitled to use public land only in ways that safeguard the capital of these properties, and administer them in accordance with the rules of usufruct. Article 46 of the 1907 Hague Regulations prohibits confiscation of private property, and Article 147 of the Fourth Geneva Convention further declares destruction and appropriation of property where “not justified by military necessity” as grave breaches of IHL.

In parallel, international human rights law (IHRL) continues to apply during occupation. The European Court of Human Rights (ECHR), in Ukraine v. Russia (Crimea), held that Russia had engaged in a systemic large-scale campaign of expropriation in violation of Article 1 of Protocol No. 1 to the European Convention on Human Rights. Crucially, these actions lacked due process and military necessity — making them both illegal and irreversible.

When IHL Meets Human Rights and Self-Determination

Land use in occupied territory implicates more than property rights — it raises questions of self-determination, protected under Article 1 of both the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights. Populations under occupation retain the right to control their resources. Any use of land — especially for trade, infrastructure, or extraction — must reflect local consent, not imposed authority.

The EU-Morocco trade cases before the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) provide a clear illustration of the link between economic exploitation and the right to self-determination. The case at hand concerned the EU-Morocco Association Agreement that establishes a framework for political, economic, and cultural cooperation between the European Union and Morocco. On 4 October 2024, the CJEU upheld the General Court’s decision to annul a Council Decision approving an amendment to the EU-Morocco Association Agreement. The Court ruled that the European Commission and Council violated the Saharawi people's right to self-determination by failing to obtain their consent.

The Court clarified that the right to self-determination means that the consent of a people in a non-self-governing territory to an international agreement may only be presumed if certain conditions are met. First, the agreement must not impose any obligations on that people. Second, it must guarantee that the people receive clear, substantial, and verifiable benefits from the use of their natural resources, proportional to the level of exploitation. These benefits must be managed sustainably and subject to regular monitoring to ensure the people actually receive them.

Although these principles were articulated specifically in the context of Western Sahara as a non-self-governing territory under the UN Charter, their significance extends more broadly. Consent and representation are crucial: The right to self-determination requires that the people of an occupied territory have their consent recognized, whether generally or in the specific context of international trade agreements between the occupying power and third parties affecting their land and resources. Economic development imposed without the involvement of the occupied people cannot legitimize or cure the illegality of the occupation.

Legal Divergence — But Russia Meets No Standard

The crucial issue of whose benefit land exploitation must serve – and who has to be involved to determine this – is also relevant to the interpretation of Article 55 of the 1907 Hague Regulations mentioned earlier. Some judicial opinions — such as Israel’s High Court in the Yesh Din case — have taken a broader view of usufruct, allowing that a state holding occupied territories is allowed to administer the property in the occupied territory and “to enjoy the fruits of such property’ – up to the boundaries of depletion or exhaustion. However, even this extensive approach that does not center around the clear, substantial, and verifiable benefits of the population concerned still demands formal compliance and proportionality. Russia’s actions do not meet even this lower bar. In its Advisory Opinion on the Occupied Palestinian Territory, the International Court of Justice unequivocally endorsed a more restrictive interpretation of Article 55: land may be used only temporarily, for the “benefit of the local population”, and with preservation of capital. 

Exporting grain, installing settlers, and dismantling registries are not mere administrative acts of this kind — they are forms of dispossession.

What’s at Stake: Beyond the Frontlines

Land law underpins restitution, reconstruction, and justice. If the international community tolerates Russia’s manipulation of legal frameworks, it risks legitimizing conquest by paperwork. This has global implications: if the law can be rewritten by force, no occupied people’s rights are safe.

Ukraine has already declared these actions null and void under its Constitution and criminal law. Articles 13 and 14 of the Constitution affirm that land and natural resources belong to the Ukrainian people. No foreign decree can change that. What is needed now is international reinforcement of that principle through legal non-recognition, strategic litigation, and sanctions against the economic beneficiaries of expropriation.

Conclusions

At the heart of Russia’s occupation lies not only military aggression but legal manipulation. Russia’s strategy aims to convert temporary control into permanent authority through legal coercion. By reshaping land law, citizenship rules, and property records, it seeks to make occupation look ordinary — even inevitable.

But the law of occupation is built on the opposite premise: that illegality cannot be normalized through administration. No decree, registry, or zoning map can erase the rights of a people or the sovereignty of a state. If this manipulation is allowed to stand, the precedent will not stop at Ukraine. It will signal that land can be stolen with paperwork, that registries can replace resistance, and that conquest can be clothed in legal formality.

Occupation is not ownership. Annexation is not administration. War is no justification for theft. If the law is to matter in peace, it must be defended in war.

Russia’s Proposal Is Not Peace — It’s a Proposal for Legalized Surrender Demanded at Gunpoint

Russia’s Proposal Is Not Peace — It’s a Proposal for Legalized Surrender Demanded at Gunpoint

By: Sindija Beta, Dr. Paul R. Williams, and Kateryna Kyrychenko

When Russia put forward its latest “peace proposal” in Istanbul on June 2, 2025, it asked Ukraine to do the impossible: abandon its own rights and legitimize aggression. 

Though framed as a diplomatic initiative, the proposal is not a peace plan—it is a legal and political ultimatum. It calls for Ukraine to forfeit its sovereignty, renounce its territorial integrity, and relinquish rights guaranteed by the UN Charter and customary international law. Acceptance of such terms would not only violate Ukraine’s legal and constitutional order; it would also deal a devastating blow to the international rule-of-law framework that—however fragile—continues to serve as a foundation for global stability and restraint in inter-state conduct.

Legalizing the Illegal: Recognition of Unlawful Annexation

Foremost among the proposal’s legally indefensible demands is the requirement for the international legal recognition of Russia’s purported annexation of Crimea, Donetsk, and Luhansk oblasts, and parts of Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson oblasts —territories internationally recognized as part of Ukraine. This demand directly violates Article 2(4) of the United Nations Charter, which prohibits the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state.

The prohibition on acquiring territory through the use of force is a peremptory norm of international law (jus cogens). It is reaffirmed by the UN General Assembly Resolution 2625 (XXV) on the “Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Co-operation among States,” which provides unequivocally that no territorial acquisition resulting from the threat or use of force shall be recognized as legal. Accordingly, Russia's claim to these territories is legally null and void. For Ukraine to recognize such annexations would not only contravene its own rights but also contribute to the erosion of a foundational norm of international law.

Undermining State Sovereignty and the Right to Self-Defense

Russia's proposal further demands that Ukraine declare neutrality, renounce military alliances, ban the presence of foreign troops, and reduce the size and capability of its armed forces. These requirements are incompatible with sovereign equality, a principle enshrined in Article 2(1) of the UN Charter, and with the inherent right of self-defense under Article 51. In fact, the 1975 Helsinki Final Act commits its signatories to respect each other’s sovereign freedom to choose alliances, which such a peace agreement would directly violate. 

The UN Charter or any other international law instrument does not permit one state to dictate the security posture or foreign alliances of another. Every sovereign state has the right to independently determine its own defense policy, including the right to form or join collective security arrangements. Imposing limitations on Ukraine’s military alliances or capabilities—particularly while Russia maintains ongoing military aggression—would amount to a legally impermissible form of external coercion.

Erasing Responsibility: Undermining the Right to Reparation

The proposal seeks a blanket "mutual renunciation of claims regarding damages caused during hostilities." This is incompatible with the principle of state responsibility under international law. The Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, adopted by the International Law Commission and widely accepted as customary international law, establish that states responsible for internationally wrongful acts must make full reparation for the injury caused.

A waiver of claims, if agreed under coercive conditions or in a context where the responsible state (Russia) has not acknowledged or ceased its wrongful conduct, and has caused hundreds of billions of dollars worth of damage, would be contrary to the fundamental legal obligation of reparation. Victim states cannot be legally compelled to relinquish such rights as a condition of peace.

Dictating Sovereignty: Breaching the Norm of Non-Intervention

The Russian proposal includes measures demanding constitutional, legislative, and political changes within Ukraine, including restrictions on political parties, mandated language laws, and imposed timelines for elections. Such stipulations are clear violations of the principle of non-intervention, a core tenet of international law as articulated in UN Charter Article 2(7), General Assembly Resolution 2131 (XX), and reaffirmed in Resolution 2625 (XXV).

States may not interfere, directly or indirectly, in matters that are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of another state. This principle protects not only political and constitutional processes but also a state’s ability to determine its cultural, linguistic, and electoral frameworks.

Including the Lawful: Addressing Displacement Without Ending Its Cause

To its credit, one provision of the Russian proposal does align with international legal obligations: the call for resolving issues related to family reunification and displaced persons. Under international humanitarian and human rights law, including the 1951 Refugee Convention and the Fourth Geneva Convention, states are obliged to facilitate the reunification of families separated by conflict and to ensure the protection and voluntary, safe, and dignified return of displaced persons.

Efforts to address these issues are essential components of any genuine peace process and reflect a basic humanitarian consensus. Yet even this otherwise constructive provision cannot be effectively implemented in isolation, without addressing the causes of displacement: namely, Russia’s unlawful invasion and occupation of Ukrainian territory.

Conclusion: Resisting the Normalization of Force-Based Settlements

The June 2 Russian proposal is incompatible with international law at multiple levels. It seeks to legitimize unlawful territorial conquest, extinguish a sovereign state’s right to self-defense, restrict its international agency, interfere in domestic matters, and preempt any legal accountability for the aggressor’s actions. Accepting such terms would not constitute peace—it would represent a serious erosion of the international legal order that states have come to rely upon to protect their national security.

A just and lasting peace cannot be built on ultimatums, territorial conquest, or coerced silence. It must be anchored in international law, the UN Charter, accountability for atrocity crimes, and respect for sovereign equality. If normalized, this approach would legitimize territorial aggression, undermining global conflict resolution norms and encouraging future violations of sovereignty under the guise of peace proposals. Until these foundational legal principles are honored, negotiations based on documents like the Russian proposal will remain not only unacceptable but unlawful.

Can the EU Afford to Wait? Why Ukraine’s Membership Is a Strategic Imperative

Can the EU Afford to Wait? Why Ukraine’s Membership Is a Strategic Imperative

By: Ambassador (Ret.) Zorica Maric Djordjevic and Kateryna Kyrychenko

The European Union stands at a historic crossroads. As Ukraine defends its sovereignty against full-scale aggression, it is also fighting for the very ideals that the EU claims as its foundation: democracy, human dignity, rule of law, economic progress, and peace. In this context, Ukraine’s bid for EU membership is no longer just a diplomatic question—it is a test of Europe’s political courage and historical vision.

This post explores whether Ukraine’s EU accession can be accelerated and, more importantly, why it should be. We examine the legal mechanisms, political logic, historical precedents, and strategic rationale that together make the case not just for eventual membership—but for urgent, decisive action.

Can the EU Accelerate Ukraine’s Membership?

Legal Basis for Accession “Shortcuts”

The EU accession process is governed by Article 49 of the Treaty on European Union (TEU), which outlines the formal steps for a European state to apply for membership. This includes respect for EU values, adoption of EU law (the acquis communautaire), and the unanimous agreement of all 27 member states.

On paper, there is no fast-track or shortcut procedure. However, crucially, the treaties do not forbid flexibility within the process. That distinction matters. While the formality of the steps cannot be bypassed, the tempo and interpretation of progress remain politically malleable. Negotiations can be accelerated, chapters can be opened in parallel or bundled together, and transitional arrangements can be made to allow phased implementation after accession. The European Council, as the political engine of the Union, has the authority to redefine what constitutes "sufficient progress" to move forward.

In other words, the door is open—not for rule-breaking, but for rule-shaping.

Historical Comparisons: Lessons from Southern Europe

History shows us that political urgency often precedes technical perfection. When Greece joined the European Economic Community in 1981, followed by Spain and Portugal in 1986, their democracies were still fragile. 

But the Community made a bold choice. The priority was not perfect compliance, but strategic anchoring. Democracy needed to be secured through integration—not postponed until all reforms were complete. Political stability and regional alignment outweighed bureaucratic orthodoxy.

Like Southern Europe in the 1980s, Ukraine is a frontline democracy emerging from conflict and repression. But Ukraine is not only defending its own future—it is defending the European Union project itself. Its people have mobilized around the vision of a democratic, free, and united Europe—often more passionately than some current member states.

Ukraine’s accession is therefore not only a legal process, but a moral imperative and geopolitical strategy. It would affirm the EU’s founding values at a moment when they are under siege.

The Cyprus Exception: Political Flexibility in Action

Cyprus joined the EU in 2004 despite its unresolved territorial division. A special protocol allowed the Republic of Cyprus to enter while effectively suspending EU law in the northern part of the island. This example proves that the EU can—and has—made exceptions for the sake of political and strategic objectives.

The case of Cyprus shows that geopolitical imperatives can outweigh procedural rigidity. If a divided island could be accommodated, why not a united, fighting democracy that has already implemented more reforms under wartime conditions than many peace-time candidates?

What Would a “Fast-Track” for Ukraine Actually Look Like?

To accelerate Ukraine’s accession, several political conditions must align. First, a geostrategic consensus must emerge among major EU capitals—Paris, Berlin, Rome, and Warsaw—that Ukraine’s future lies firmly in Europe. Second, there must be a clear institutional roadmap that respects the legal process but adapts to Ukraine’s wartime constraints. Finally, any fast-track move must be embedded within a broader reform of the EU itself, particularly around decision-making to avoid institutional paralysis once Ukraine joins.

Accelerating Ukraine’s membership is politically possible. It depends not on legal innovation, but on political will.

The Agriculture Question: A Test of Policy and Priorities

One of the most frequently cited challenges in Ukraine’s accession process is its agricultural sector. Ukraine is one of the world’s agricultural giants—often called the “breadbasket of Europe.” It boasts some of the planet’s most fertile land, and even during wartime disruption, it remains a major global exporter of wheat, sunflower oil, corn, and barley.

This strength, however, raises policy dilemmas for the EU. Integrating Ukraine into the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP)—which currently consumes nearly a third of the EU budget—would require either a substantial increase in the EU’s financial envelope or a deep reform of how CAP funds are distributed. Some member states fear that Ukraine’s vast and competitive agricultural sector would distort internal markets and trigger social and political backlash, especially in countries where farmers already feel economically marginalized. Concerns also extend to compliance with EU sanitary and phytosanitary (SPS) regulations and the Green Deal’s environmental criteria, which could pose adaptation challenges for Ukrainian producers in the short term.

But framing Ukraine’s agriculture as a “problem” misunderstands the opportunity. The EU has long been undergoing conversations about reforming CAP to make it more sustainable, greener, and innovation-driven. Ukraine could be the catalyst for this transformation. Its accession offers a chance to modernize outdated subsidy structures, prioritize food security and climate resilience, and create a common agricultural space that leverages Ukraine’s capacity while supporting fair transition measures for existing member states. A flexible, staged approach to integration—drawing on models such as Spain’s phased accession—could ensure mutual gains without overwhelming EU systems.

Transitional arrangements—such as phased CAP entry, special safeguard clauses, and targeted investment in Ukrainian rural infrastructure—are feasible. They were used during the 2004 enlargement and can be adapted for Ukraine. Rather than derail accession, agriculture could be the sector where vision and pragmatism converge. Framing these transitional measures as part of Ukraine’s broader post-war recovery agenda could help depoliticize negotiations while attracting consensus among member states.

In the long term, integrating Ukraine’s agriculture into the EU market is not a burden—it’s a strategic asset. At a time of rising global food insecurity, climate disruption, and competition with authoritarian grain-exporting regimes, Ukraine’s agricultural strength reinforces the EU’s geopolitical autonomy and global relevance.

The EU as a Peace Project: Returning to Foundational Values

The EU was never merely a technocratic trade bloc. It was a peace project. It was created from the ruins of war to make future conflicts not only unthinkable, but impossible. The Schuman Declaration of 1950 envisioned integration not as a goal in itself, but as a means to ensure lasting peace.

Today, Ukraine represents a 21st-century peace challenge. A sovereign democracy under assault, it is precisely the kind of state the EU was built to protect and integrate. If the EU’s original purpose was to ensure peace through unity, then integrating Ukraine is not a deviation—it is a return to first principles.

The war in Ukraine has already reshaped the EU security environment. In response to the Russian aggression the EU has approved several new measures, including the Strategic Compass, the utilization of the enhanced European Peace Facility for military support to Ukraine, the launch of the EU-led Military Assistance Mission to train Ukrainian soldiers, the revitalization of the European Defense Technological and Industrial Base to promote joint procurement, and the imposition of sanctions. Between 2021 and 2024, EU member states increased defence spending by 30 per cent, reaching a record €326 billion.

Peace is not a passive condition. It requires political action and transformative effort in moments of crisis.. Just as the EU extended its hand to post-authoritarian Southern Europe, and later to post-Soviet Central Europe, and bolstered its security infrastructure in response to the Russian aggression in 2022, it must now respond to Ukraine’s call for long-term commitment—not just with promises, but with a bold political decision to shape the future of the new European order.

Final Thought: A Moment of Decision

In 2004, the EU acted boldly, welcoming ten new members because the time was right—and because Europe was willing. In 2025, Ukraine is proving daily that it is ready. What it needs is for Europe to be willing again.

Europe has made political decisions before—to bring in Greece, Spain, and Portugal to defend democracy. Ukraine does not seek vague declarations. It seeks the kind of decisive political act that brought Poland and the Baltics into the EU: one rooted in shared sacrifice, performance under pressure, and strategic necessity.

This is not about breaking the EU’s rules. It is about fulfilling its purpose.

If Ukraine’s courage under fire is not enough to merit integration, then what remains of the EU’s promise?

Now is the time for moral clarity and geopolitical foresight—to show that the EU is not just a market of convenience, but a union of values. To delay would not be neutral—it would be a failure of Robert Shuman’s vision that “world peace cannot be safeguarded without the making of creative efforts proportionate to the dangers which threaten it.”

Ukraine’s membership would not stretch the Union. It would strengthen it.

Not someday. But now.