I regret to inform Kyiv that surviving a three-day bombardment does not give you the right to be rude about it

It is with a heavy heart and a deep sense of betrayal that I must pen this column today. For over two years, I have been one of Ukraine’s most steadfast rhetorical allies. I have clapped politely for their tragic resilience at various panel discussions. I have nodded solemnly at their televised eulogies while waiting for my barista to finish my oat milk cortado. I have even, on more than one occasion, considered purchasing a small lapel pin. But over the weekend, Kyiv crossed a line that forces me to question the very nature of this conflict, and frankly, my continued patronage of their cause.

Following a routine, albeit robust, three-day deadly missile barrage by Moscow last week, Ukraine responded by launching nearly 600 drones across 14 Russian regions. At least four people in Russia were killed, and a dozen more were wounded. The Russian defense ministry, an institution that has only ever asked for the total subjugation of its neighbor and the occasional erasure of a cultural identity, was forced to report that Ukrainian drones struck the area around the capital, the Crimean peninsula, and the Black and Azov seas.

This is not merely an escalation of hostilities. It is a staggering lapse in international manners.

I was discussing exactly this sort of geopolitical vulgarity just last month at a symposium in Aspen, seated between a retired four-star general and the CEO of a major defense contractor that bravely continues to sell microchips to entirely neutral third-party shell companies in Kazakhstan. Over a rather exquisite plate of seared scallops, we all agreed: the moral authority of the oppressed relies entirely on their willingness to remain oppressed. If the victim starts fighting back with the exact same ferocity as the aggressor, it makes it very difficult for those of us on the symposium circuit to know which colored ribbon to apply to our social media profiles.

Historically, the international community has had a clear, unspoken contract with invaded nations. The aggressor drops the bombs, levels the power grids, and commits the historical atrocities. The invaded nation, in turn, suffers nobly, produces heartbreaking photographs for the front pages of our newspapers of record, and eventually receives a standing ovation and a strongly worded UN resolution in its honor.

This is the bedrock of the rules-based international order. It provides clarity. It provides a sense of narrative structure. When Ukraine decides to circumvent this process by sending 600 explosive drones into Russian airspace, they are fundamentally disrespecting the delicate emotional needs of Western spectators who just want a clean story about good and evil where the good guys politely absorb shrapnel.

We must talk about the four casualties in Russia. Four lives, extinguished. I do not know their names, nor do I intend to learn them, but I can only assume they were innocent bystanders who simply wanted to enjoy a quiet Sunday after a long week of ignoring the atrocities committed in their name. To wake up in Moscow—a city that has worked so tirelessly to maintain the illusion that the war is merely a television show happening in another dimension—and hear the buzzing of Ukrainian retaliation is a trauma I wouldn't wish on anyone.

It shatters the municipal peace. It causes traffic delays. It forces everyday Muscovites to briefly consider the consequences of their government's actions, which is a clear violation of their cognitive rights.

Furthermore, what is the strategic goal here? Retaliation? Deterrence? Please. We all know that the only way to stop a bully is to let them hit you until they get tired and their knuckles hurt. By fighting back, Ukraine is only giving Russia a reason to feel victimized, and as we all know, there is nothing more dangerous than a heavily armed superpower that has suddenly been forced to taste a microscopic fraction of its own medicine.

I fear that Kyiv simply does not understand the psychology of the Kremlin. You cannot deter Vladimir Putin by blowing up his drone factories or striking his naval assets in the Azov Sea. You can only deter him by writing incisive, 2,000-word opinion columns pointing out his logical fallacies, which I have been doing faithfully for thirty months with zero structural support from the Ukrainian military.

Frankly, this kind of behavior from Ukraine makes my job incredibly difficult. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to constantly defend a nation that refuses to stick to the script? I spent three hours last week drafting a beautiful, poignant essay about the tragic nobility of the Ukrainian spirit in the face of Moscow’s deadly three-day attack. It was a masterpiece of passive sympathy. It had a quote from Churchill. It had a metaphor about a willow tree bending in the wind.

And now? Now I have to scrap the whole thing because the willow tree just launched a massive coordinated drone strike on an oil refinery in the Rostov region.

And why 14 regions? Is that not a bit excessive? I can understand lobbing a drone or two over the border to make a point—perhaps aiming for an empty field, or a particularly ugly statue. But 14 regions? The Crimean peninsula? It smacks of showing off. It is the geopolitical equivalent of a newly wealthy tech entrepreneur buying a solid gold toilet. We get it, Kyiv. You have indigenous drone manufacturing capabilities now. There is no need to rub it in the faces of the Russian air defense operators who were likely just trying to get a decent night's sleep after a grueling week of targeting children's hospitals.

I am not saying Ukraine should surrender. Far from it. I simply believe they need to issue a formal apology to the Russian defense ministry for the noise disturbance, pay for the damages to the targeted infrastructure, and promise to return to the dignified posture of a nation that is quietly being erased from the map.

Until then, I must reluctantly withhold my full moral support, and I will be advising my colleagues in the punditry class to do the same. We must send a clear message to the developing world: self-defense is a privilege, not a right, and it can be revoked if you use it too loudly.