Defending freedom during war sadly sometimes means its compromise

It’s a test, a harsh one, but there’s a hope that maybe, just maybe, it can burn away some of the corruption, sharpening our economy and making it resilient. But as the war stretches on, that ideal fades. People grow weary. Every new coffin that arrives in towns and villages serves as a reminder of the price we’re paying, and the belief that war can cleanse starts to feel like a hollow promise, as the most brilliant die.

Beyond the heroes and villains, though, there’s something else slipping away – our sense of liberty, the values of freedom and choice that define a liberal society.

War has done more than just disrupt our lives – it has muddied what it means to be truly free, as security takes precedence over freedoms we once took for granted. Meanwhile, here in Scotland, things feel different. You can feel a pressure from the south, the pull of London’s influence, as if it’s quietly reshaping the fabric of Scottish life.

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But here, it’s less a fight and more of a game, one played out in politics and policies rather than life and death. In peacetime, the stakes don’t feel as dire – there’s room for debate, for pushing back.

But imagine a world in which the UK found itself pulled into a war that demanded sacrifices from all its parts. In such a conflict, Scotland might feel the hand of London not just as political pressure but as something heavier, a hand that limits choices and shapes actions in the name of unity and survival.

The liberties that now feel secure might, under the weight of national crisis, start to erode, and Scotland’s own sense of identity could be tested in ways it hasn’t been in centuries.

The context in Ukraine dictates a heavy hand of the government on what, in peacetime, would be seen as unshakable liberal values. The right to speak any language freely – whether Ukrainian or Russian – has come under scrutiny, even in casual spaces like streets and parks.

Since the start of the war, the Ukrainian government has consolidated control over major television networks to streamline information and unify the national message. While some see this as a necessary wartime measure to preserve unity and prevent disinformation, it raises complex questions about the boundaries between state security and individual freedoms.

It’s essential to view these shifts through a wartime lens – a lens that imposes a strict, constrained frame on what liberties are available to Ukrainians today. War demands sacrifices and, in Ukraine, those include concessions on freedom of expression and access to information.

In Ivano-Frankivsk, which is a predominantly Ukrainian-speaking city in western Ukraine, an influx of displaced people from the east, many of whom speak Russian, has brought tensions to the forefront.

Recently, the city’s mayor introduced so-called “language inspectors” in public spaces –volunteers tasked with monitoring which language is spoken in these shared environments. This move has stirred significant controversy.

While these inspectors are intended to reinforce the use of Ukrainian in public, critics argue it infringes upon personal freedoms, given that Ukrainian law permits individuals to speak any language they wish in public spaces.

Such measures highlight the tension between national identity and personal rights – a delicate balance made even more fragile by the pressures of war. For many Ukrainians, this conflict within a conflict – between preserving the nation and upholding individual freedoms – reveals the painful trade-offs that war can impose.

Language, an important part of one’s identity, has become both a unifier and a dividing line, shaping the boundaries of community and belonging in a country struggling to maintain its integrity.

In the early days of the war, taking control of the media seemed like a straightforward decision. It was necessary to counteract Russian propaganda, to rally Ukrainians around a common narrative, and to reinforce resilience.

A united, government-controlled media helped to build a narrative of strength, resolve, and determination – a shield against disinformation intended to fracture Ukraine from within. For many, this sacrifice of a liberal press felt justified, a temporary trade-off to ensure that morale remained high during the darkest days.

But now, more than 1000 days in, the landscape has shifted. The front lines have moved; the intensity of the fighting ebbs and flows.

In Kyiv, where Russian troops retreated in the early months, life has resumed some semblance of normalcy, even as new waves of fear and uncertainty come with each new escalation. The rapid advances of the early counter-offensives have slowed, and recent setbacks have painted a more complicated picture of Ukraine’s struggle.

This evolving context has presented a new challenge for the government and the media it controls: what kind of truth should be told? Should the public be shielded from harsh realities at the front, given only hopeful, inspiring stories to keep spirits high? Or should they hear the unvarnished truth, even if it risks sowing doubt and weariness?

When people are exhausted, when the impact of war has seeped into every aspect of daily life, each choice comes with consequences.

As a student of international relations and an observer of the complexities in the war between Russia and Ukraine, I am struck by the incredibly difficult decisions that must be made in wartime.

Each decision is a balancing act, weighing security against freedom, morale against transparency. Some measures, such as consolidating media control or enforcing language policies, feel controversial – possibly even oppressive. And yet, calling it “oppression” seems overly simplistic in the context of an existential struggle for survival.

These policies aren’t born from a desire to control for its own sake but from a need to maintain unity and resilience against overwhelming odds. For Ukraine, the “oppression” of liberal values feels less like a betrayal of democracy and more like a grim necessity, revealing the complex sacrifices that war demands of a society. War has a way of forcing choices that would be unthinkable in peacetime.

How much freedom can we afford to lose in order to save the nation? How much truth can we risk exposing without undermining the resolve to fight? These questions don’t come with easy answers, and they force Ukrainians to confront a harsh reality – defending freedom sometimes requires compromising it, at least temporarily.