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As part of the U.S. and European push toward a negotiated end to the Russia-Ukraine war, Kyiv has been under mounting pressure to accept territorial concessions. Lately, attention has focused on a possible precedent for a land-for-peace deal with Moscow: the 1944 Finnish-Soviet armistice that followed two successive wars between the two neighbors. Helsinki permanently transferred substantial Finnish territories to Moscow and was never attacked again.<\/p>\n
In recent weeks, the example has made its way into the center of the debate, with Finnish President Alexander Stubb and the Economist<\/em><\/a> advertising it as a positive precedent. At the annual Yalta European Strategy conference organized by the Victor Pinchuk Foundation in Kyiv this weekend, the influential historian Niall Ferguson hailed Finlandization before the assembled security elite.<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n As part of the U.S. and European push toward a negotiated end to the Russia-Ukraine war, Kyiv has been under mounting pressure to accept territorial concessions. Lately, attention has focused on a possible precedent for a land-for-peace deal with Moscow: the 1944 Finnish-Soviet armistice that followed two successive wars between the two neighbors. Helsinki permanently transferred substantial Finnish territories to Moscow and was never attacked again.<\/p>\n In recent weeks, the example has made its way into the center of the debate, with Finnish President Alexander Stubb and the Economist<\/em><\/a><\/u><\/span> advertising it as a positive precedent. At the annual Yalta European Strategy conference organized by the Victor Pinchuk Foundation in Kyiv this weekend, the influential historian Niall Ferguson hailed Finlandization before the assembled security elite.<\/p>\n The 1939 Nazi-Soviet pact<\/a><\/u><\/span> that divided Eastern Europe between the two powers had assigned Finland to the Soviet sphere of influence. When Soviet forces duly invaded in late November of that year, the Finns fought back and avoided the destiny prescribed to them by Soviet leader Joseph Stalin. Then, with the 1944 Moscow Armistice, Finland gave up close to 12 percent<\/a><\/u><\/span> of its territory while achieving peace and keeping independence. So far, so similar.<\/p>\n At closer look, however, Finland is more relevant as a warning than as a model. The parallel is highly questionable to begin with: Compared to Ukraine, Finland is a small country of peripheral strategic interest for Moscow. Unlike Finland in 1944, Ukraine is now the sole focus of Russian war activity. In 1944, the Soviet Union was truly aiming to end a war; today, the Russian leadership has made clear its appetite for further conquest<\/a><\/u><\/span> in Ukraine and elsewhere<\/a><\/u><\/span>.<\/p>\n Ukraine, not Finland, holds a critical, even mythical place<\/a><\/u><\/span> in the Russians\u2019 understanding of their imperial project<\/a><\/u><\/span>. From the Tsarist era to today, Moscow never questioned the existence of a Finnish nation, language, and culture\u2014the exact opposite to the Russian view of Ukraine. An independent Finland was no obstacle to Soviet ambitions elsewhere, but an independent Ukraine is a severe blow to Russia\u2019s efforts to restore its Soviet-era empire.<\/p>\n That said, the Finnish example might be applicable to Ukraine\u2014but only if we add two substantial modifications. The Finns were left to live in peace because their country was not central to the Kremlin\u2019s geopolitical strategy\u2014something that cannot be said of Ukraine today. Therefore, a strong and well-armed Ukraine is a precondition for a Finland-style peace to hold. Deterring Russia will be more demanding in Ukraine, requiring serious Ukrainian armament, security guarantees, and long-term Western support\u2014something that Finland did not enjoy after 1944.<\/p>\n Finland avoided another invasion thanks to a combination of the broader geopolitical context and its own defense preparedness\u2014not by being friendly toward the Soviets, as the Sept. 1 Economist<\/em> article wrongly insinuated. Despite its official neutrality, Helsinki maintained strong defenses<\/a><\/u><\/span> and a large reserve army throughout the Cold War era. Quite like the Ukrainians today, the Finns had shown themselves to be masters of warfare and more than capable of inflicting massive losses on the Kremlin\u2019s army.<\/p>\n Second, Finland agreed to a permanent, de jure cession of territory at a time when the entire map of Europe was being redrawn in the wake of World War II. Tens of millions of people were subjected to forced transfers, losing their homes, livelihoods, and very often their lives. Precisely to avoid returning to that era, one of the core principles of the post-World War II international order is the strict prohibition of changing borders by conquest.<\/p>\n Europe does not want to go back to the time of the Moscow Armistice, when that order did not yet exist. Therefore, any new border between Russia and Ukraine should not be recognized de jure, as in the Finnish case, but only de facto\u2014as Russian-administered areas pending a final settlement. Russia\u2019s war of aggression and war crimes must not be rewarded.<\/p>\n What\u2019s more, the Russian demand to get the whole region of the Donbas<\/a><\/u><\/span>, including large territories that Russia has tried hard but failed to conquer since first sending its forces into the region in 2014<\/a><\/u><\/span>, should be firmly rejected. (This demand has been misleadingly labeled<\/a><\/u><\/span> as a \u201cland swap\u201d by the Kremlin and White House.) These territories contain important Ukrainian defensive fortifications; ceding them to Russia would severely undermine Ukraine\u2019s ability to defend its heartland.<\/p>\n There are other, more useful historical precedents. The divisions of Germany and Korea after World War II were cases where a new de facto border was drawn and respected among the powers involved, even though the line of division was never ratified as a permanent international boundary. With the significant exception of the Korean War and occasional skirmishes in the demilitarized zone dividing the peninsula, the peace held in both cases. In Europe, it held until the 1990 treaty that unified Germany and officially ended World War II. In East Asia, it still holds today, even though the two Koreas never signed a peace treaty and thus remain in a technical state of war.<\/p>\n These two precedents make clear that a de jure border change is not a prerequisite for an extended, stable peace. At the same time, tensions between the two Koreas remain high, illustrating the risk that a bad deal in Ukraine could increase the probability of renewed escalation.<\/p>\n Coming back to the Finnish case, the risks involved deserve particular attention when looking at the prospects for peace in Ukraine.<\/p>\n Not only did Finland give up substantial territory, but it also had to pay extensive war reparations and accept limitations to its sovereignty and armed forces. It certainly wasn\u2019t a just peace. The Soviet Union did not intend for it to be a sustainable peace, either. The Kremlin still wanted to achieve the full submission of Finland, even if it did not aim to annex the rest of the country. Moscow tried hard to achieve this through so-called active measures\u2014nowadays called hybrid warfare<\/a><\/u><\/span>\u2014such as election interference, pressure to appoint Moscow-friendly government ministers, support for Finnish communists, and the instigation of workers\u2019 strikes and street protests. There\u2019s no doubt that Moscow will use these and other methods to try to bring Kyiv under its political control even after a peace deal is reached.<\/p>\n From the Ukrainian perspective, the maximalist goals outlined by Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky in his 2022 peace plan<\/a><\/u><\/span> no longer appear to be a realistic outcome of the war. By now, a majority of Ukrainians admit in polls<\/a><\/u><\/span> that they cannot liberate the occupied territories by military means any time soon. The West is to blame for this state of affairs\u2014especially the Biden administration, which withheld aid and slowed down the Ukrainian counteroffensive when Russia was at its weakest in late 2022 and early 2023. Since then, Russia has built up more military strength, while Ukraine has become more exhausted.<\/p>\n Zelensky acknowledged the need for concessions in March, when he agreed<\/a><\/u><\/span> to the U.S. proposal for an unconditional cease-fire. The main concern with freezing the current front line and leaving the occupied territories under Russian control is that it would allow Russia time to recover and prepare for the next assault. Trump withdrew<\/a><\/u><\/span> his cease-fire demand following his conversations with Russian President Vladimir Putin, allowing Russia to continue killing Ukrainian soldiers and civilians for as long as peace negotiations are prepared and conducted. Putin has shown no readiness for concessions, and Trump has missed every opportunity to put serious pressure on him.<\/p>\n Whether Ukraine can remain an independent and democratic state after ceding the occupied territories\u2014even if only in a de facto form\u2014depends a great deal on the actions of Ukraine\u2019s Western supporters. It is up to the Ukrainians to decide under which conditions they are ready to stop fighting, but the most critical issues for Europe<\/a><\/u><\/span> reach far beyond Ukraine. The eventual peace deal will have to bring security not just for Ukraine but also for the Baltic states, Poland<\/a><\/u><\/span>, Finland, and the rest of Europe.<\/p>\n Instead of pushing Ukraine to accept a bad deal, it is in Europe\u2019s interest to increase support for Ukraine precisely to prevent a bad deal with dangerous repercussions for Europe. Ukraine\u2019s partners do not have the luxury of risking a Finland-style agreement that leaves the country to face the Kremlin on its own.<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n