There is a hard-to-die misunderstanding that still runs through part of Italian public opinion and political forces: the idea that the war in Ukraine is a ‘distant’, circumscribed, negotiable conflict with no existential consequences for the continent.
A misunderstanding fuelled by a pacifism that is often noble in its intentions, but sometimes incapable of coming to terms with geopolitical reality.

The truth is much simpler, and much more uncomfortable: Ukraine is not a periphery of the European continent, it is its vital border.

Without a free and independent Ukraine, there is no real security for Europe. There is no balance. Nor, ultimately, is there any possibility of defending the model of liberal democracy that the continent claims as its identity.

For over two years, Kyiv has not only been fighting for its sovereignty. It is fulfilling a function that, in European history, is tragically recurrent: that of a buffer state between two irreconcilable worldviews.

On the one hand, a system based on pluralism, rights and democratic alternation. On the other, the authoritarian model embodied by Vladimir Putin’s Russia, which no longer conceals its ambition to redefine the European balance through force.

To think that all this can be contained without resistance is, at best, naive. At worst, dangerous.

The Hungarian case: a wake-up call

In this scenario, Hungary today represents one of the most critical junctions. The increasingly explicit relationship between Viktor Orban and the Kremlin is no longer a matter of diplomatic nuances, but a structural political fact.

The recent statements on alleged fraud and interference in the vote, accompanied by increasingly aggressive rhetoric towards the European institutions, are part of a very precise strategy: to delegitimise the European democratic framework in order to strengthen an alternative model, closer to illiberal logic.

And while non-existent interference is denounced, silence is kept on the only obvious interference: that of Donald Trump and, through him, JD Vance who arrived in Budapest to openly support Orban by attacking Europe and its leaders.

Nor would it be so strange to imagine an Orban in Trump version who, in the aftermath of a possible election outcome against him, invoking the support of his foreign friends, would incite his supporters, already prepared by false plots and hairy propaganda, to put the country to the sword.

Fortunately, between the Russian and Hungarian borders is Ukraine

Without Ukraine to act as a barrier, the border between the EU and Russia would shorten dramatically. And in a context in which Budapest would further align itself with Moscow’s positions, the risk of internal European destabilisation would become concrete.

Evoking 1956 – when Soviet tanks entered Budapest to crush the uprising – is not a rhetorical exercise, but historical memory. The difference is that today that pressure may not come in the form of a direct invasion, but through a combination of political, economic and military influence.

Or worse, in a hybrid form that would make a unified response even more difficult.

The implicit axis between Washington and Moscow

Making the picture even more disturbing is the posture of the United States under Donald Trump. Statements about the possible European disengagement of NATO are not mere provocations, but signals of a strategic redefinition that risks leaving the continent exposed.

In this context, the possible convergence of interests between Trump and Putin – although starting from different assumptions – appears less and less like a remote hypothesis. Both, for different reasons, would benefit from a weaker, more divided Europe, less able to act as a unified political entity.

The disintegration of the European Union is not necessarily a declared goal, but it is certainly a functional outcome for both visions.

The limit of abstract pacifism

It is here that the European debate shows all its fragilities. Because to continue to call for immediate peace, without considering the conditions that would make it possible, is to ignore an essential point: not all peace is equal.

A peace obtained at the price of Ukrainian surrender would not be a solution. It would be a precedent. A signal. An implicit legitimisation of the use of force as an instrument of border redefinition.

And this, for Europe, would have profound and lasting consequences.

Defending Ukraine does not mean choosing war.
It means recognising that there are times in history when defence, even military defence, becomes the only means to avoid a wider and more destructive conflict.

It means understanding that Kyiv today is a geographical border, a political line and a cultural boundary. It means, above all, realising that what is decided there will not stay there.

To continue to consider the war in Ukraine as ‘someone else’s’ problem, to continue not wanting to take a position, entrenching oneself behind a mannerist pacifism, to continue not wanting to understand how the defence of Ukraine represents an existential issue for the protection of rights and freedoms that have been won, means not having understood the nature of the conflict. It means ignoring that, at stake, is not just the fate of one country, but the balance of the entire continent.

Without a free Ukraine, there is no truly free Europe. Without a free Europe, in today’s world, there are no truly free communities and individuals.