“Don’t you feel sorry for this beautiful city?” the taxi driver asked, sweeping his hand in a wide gesture. We were driving past the Eiffel Tower on the way to the television studio. Paris glimmered warmly with the lights of its restaurants, and tourist boats darted playfully from beneath the old stone bridges. The evening was mild, the summer heat finally easing, and it hardly felt like the right moment for a debate about international politics. Yet remaining silent wasn’t an option.
“You, Ukrainians, you’re pushing the world towards a Third World War! You’re dragging us into your war without caring what will happen to us!” the driver continued, his voice rising. “And will you defend this beautiful city if it comes under a military attack?” I asked, finally hitting the right note. He fell silent for a minute or two, and when he spoke again, his tone had shifted completely — soft now, tinged with sadness.
“Oh, you know, that’s the problem — I very much doubt we’d put up any real resistance if we were invaded,” the man admitted with a heavy sigh. “Just look at those people strolling along the embankment, sitting in restaurants, sailing on boats! Do you honestly think they’d pick up weapons and learn to shoot?” He fell silent again, and I finally managed to skim the latest news before going on air.
I often meet taxi drivers like him. The majority lean far left, drawn to the idea of “taking from the rich and giving to the poor.” In their view, the “poor” are inherently virtuous and must be protected, fed, treated, and housed — all at the expense of the wealthy. For people with this mindset, the real threat isn’t Russian or even American imperialism, but other people’s money. Large sums of it. It’s hard to say how representative this outlook is across France, but there’s no doubt that among Macron’s opponents, many think this way.
“Ukrainians intimidate people with their courage,” an old acquaintance once admitted. At the time, he seemed as surprised by his own observation as I was. Yet he wasn’t wrong: Ukrainian resistance defies expectations, tearing through them like a dog shredding a hot water bottle, and prompts others to compare, to wonder how their own country might respond in a similar situation. This is why Russian propaganda slips so effortlessly into the Francophone media space, like a knife through butter.
Take, for example, Lavrov’s claim that Ukraine was “derailing negotiations” by striking Russia’s energy infrastructure. In this lie, cause and effect are completely inverted. It is clear that Ukrainians were attacked, and we are defending ourselves by every possible means. Yet on Ukraine’s Independence Day, France Info cited this Russian “diplomat” around twenty times, if not more. Why? It’s difficult to say, since his statement contained not a shred of actual information.
A wholly fabricated story found its way onto the front pages of leading, respected media, boldly declaring: “On Independence Day, Ukraine used weapons, risking the collapse of negotiations.” Well, wasn’t that convenient! Russia was sitting quietly, minding its own business, apparently ready to negotiate. And then—here come the Ukrainians, launching attacks, unwilling to make peace, unwilling to negotiate…
This irritation with Ukraine, which refuses to lay down its arms and surrender to Putin, masks a much deeper fear: the spectre of a large-scale war that Western Europe is simply not prepared for. Aware of their own vulnerability, they project these fears onto us.
We should also remember that the 1994 Budapest Memorandum was Ukraine’s first concession to foreign fears, made under intense pressure. At the time, having just regained independence, Ukraine lacked the means to defend itself effectively and fell into a trap. Later, when Russia—ostensibly one of the guarantors of Ukraine’s security under that memorandum—launched a war, it suddenly became clear that the document “does not meet standards,” “binds no one,” and guarantees nothing…
A similar threat exists today: yielding to the fears of politicians who have never experienced war and who, above all, dread losing their comfort and privileges. Their interests are echoed by a layer of media professionals who prefer not to think too hard and dislike complicating their lives. There will always be an audience for such a simplified worldview.
But no matter how much you shuffle cause and effect, the war will not end. It will continue as long as the Russians have weapons to fire and people to fight. Ukraine—at least its conscious, responsible part—will defend itself, or it will perish. You can repeat after Trump all you like that the war will be over weeks before the Nobel Peace Prize is announced, but it won’t change the nature of the Russian empire. For the invader, talk of negotiations is merely a way to buy time and shift blame from a sick head to a healthy one.
Do they understand this in the high offices of Paris, London, and Brussels? Mostly, yes. But understanding is one thing; acting on it is another. As for us, we keep to our own work, unbothered by the fears of others. We’ve already walked that path.
