Part I: Guarantees Without Deterrence

The full-scale russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 plunged Europe into its deadliest conflict since the Second World War. Nearly four years on, Ukraine and its partners continue to search for a “just and lasting peace,” one capable of resting on firm and credible security arrangements. In Western policy debates, this search has increasingly revolved around a deceptively simple question: what security guarantees should Ukraine receive?

On 6 January 2026, a high-level summit in Paris produced the Paris Declaration – Robust Security Guarantees for a Solid and Lasting Peace in Ukraine. The document purports to outline a framework of guarantees intended to underpin Ukraine’s future security.

At its core, the Declaration rests on a clear syllogism: peace requires Ukrainian security; Ukrainian security requires credible guarantees; therefore, guarantees must be established. The logic is formally sound. The problem lies not in logic or declared goodwill, but in execution. Security guarantees do not create security. Deterrence does. Guarantees can function only when they formalize a reality that already exists—one in which aggression is predictably costly and therefore strategically irrational.

This distinction is not academic. It goes to the heart of whether post-war Europe will be genuinely stable—or merely paused.

Before turning to that broader judgment, it is necessary to consider what the Paris meeting actually achieved, as reflected in the Declaration itself.

The language employed is solemn and consistent with modern diplomatic usage: invocation of the UN Charter, affirmations of unity, and repeated assurances of “robust” and even “binding” guarantees. Such form should not be dismissed lightly. In diplomacy, messages are conveyed not only by arms, but also by appearances.

Yet one omission is striking. The Declaration does not explicitly affirm that territorial integrity shall be an indispensable component of any peace settlement, alongside sovereignty and lasting security. In diplomatic texts, such omissions are rarely accidental. Whether this silence reflects a willingness within the Coalition to contemplate territorial concessions—or merely an attempt to preserve consensus—remains to be seen. By contrast, one positive element deserves notice: robust security guarantees are intended to underpin “any settlement,” rather than being strictly tied to the conclusion of a final peace agreement, suggesting that such guarantees might, in principle, be provided at an earlier stage.

As always when judging public acts, reason requires that declarations be measured not by aspiration but by conformity with reality: whether means are proportionate to ends, and whether intentions are matched by causal efficacy. What matters, therefore, is not what is promised, but how, when, and under what conditions those promises would operate.

From the Paris Declaration of 6 January 2026, several propositions appear clear and uncontested. First, the Coalition affirms that Ukraine’s security is inseparable from European and Euro-Atlantic security. Second, the Armed Forces of Ukraine are declared the first line of defence and deterrence. Third, security guarantees are described as politically and legally binding, but are activated only after a ceasefire and further conditioned by the formula “in accordance with respective constitutional arrangements,” without clarifying which commitments are legal and which remain political. Fourth, assistance in the event of renewed aggression is framed as possible rather than automatic.

The substance of the guarantees is organized around five pillars, which merit closer examination.

The first pillar concerns participation in a proposed US-led ceasefire monitoring mechanism, including commissions to address violations, attribute responsibility, and determine remedies. From a rational perspective, monitoring is necessary but insufficient. Knowledge of violations does not, by itself, prevent them.

Such mechanisms can document breaches, but they do little to restrain a determined adversary who expects that violations will be debated diplomatically before any material consequence follows. Where no necessary consequence attaches to breach, monitoring remains observational rather than causal.

The second element is perhaps the strongest component of the Declaration: long-term military assistance, financing, access to depots, and fortification support. Force remains the decisive condition of security. The continued strengthening of Ukraine’s armed forces is the only element that directly alters an adversary’s strategic calculus. Arms in hand are more persuasive than words on parchment. That said, the formulation describing Ukraine’s forces as the “first line of defence” remains ambiguous. It is unclear whether this signifies a forward position in the collective defence of Europe against Russia, or merely the first line of Ukraine’s own national defence. Equally regrettable is the absence of any explicit articulation of how deterrence itself is to be understood or operationalized.

The next pillar envisages a European-led multinational force, deployable strictly at Ukraine’s request and only after a “credible cessation of hostilities.” By design, such a force is posterior to danger rather than antecedent to it. It preserves an outcome already achieved; it manages an aftermath; but it does not generate peace. This is reassurance, not deterrence. Moreover, the timing of deployment remains unclear. The Declaration introduces yet another term—“credible cessation of hostilities”—alongside ceasefire, settlement, and peace agreement. These are not interchangeable concepts in international law; each carries distinct legal and operational consequences. Ambiguity here is not neutral—it delays action.

Only in the penultimate paragraph does the Coalition express agreement to finalize binding commitments that may include military capabilities, intelligence, logistics, diplomacy, and sanctions. Notably, there is no final agreement yet, only an intention to conclude one in the future. The conditional language is revealing. No automaticity is specified. No thresholds are defined. Each State retains discretion. Such indeterminacy may preserve unity among guarantors, but it also advertises hesitation to the adversary. The Declaration is likewise silent on responses to russian coercion that falls below the threshold of armed attack—a domain where state practice remains fragmented and where deterrence failures are historically most likely.

The final pillar concerns mutually beneficial defence cooperation, including training, industrial collaboration, and intelligence sharing. This provision fosters structural alignment over time. It strengthens Ukraine’s capacity and embeds it more deeply within Europe’s defence ecosystem. It also distributes costs and responsibilities in a manner that reassures national treasuries. This is rational and valuable—but it is not, strictly speaking, a security guarantee.

Beyond the military-legal sphere, the credibility of security arrangements has direct consequences for economic recovery and reconstruction. Capital is inherently forward-looking. Investors, insurers, lenders, and infrastructure planners price not declared intentions, but expected risk. Where deterrence is credible, risk premiums fall, investment horizons lengthen, and reconstruction becomes economically rational. Where security is conditional, delayed, or ambiguous, capital withdraws or demands prohibitive returns. In this sense, ambiguity in security commitments does not merely affect military stability; it directly constrains Ukraine’s capacity to rebuild, modernize, and integrate economically with Europe.

Taken together, the Declaration represents an effort to organize intention, preparation, and coordination. It does not abolish danger. Its positive elements are real: unified language among many States, willingness to plan militarily in advance, and explicit recognition that Ukraine’s armed forces remain central to European security.

These are commendable achievements for coalition management and legitimacy. They become dangerous only if mistaken for compulsion.

The Declaration is therefore notable not only for what it contains, but for what it omits: clear, immediate, and unavoidable consequences for renewed aggression, and irreversible obligations that bind States even against their momentary political convenience.

There is also a political-economic asymmetry embedded in the current approach. Strategic ambiguity often preserves coalition unity among European partners in the present by accommodating divergent threat perceptions, domestic constraints, and budgetary sensitivities. Yet the risk created by such ambiguity is not shared evenly. It is transferred forward—and outward—to Ukraine, which bears the strategic uncertainty tomorrow while others retain discretion today. This imbalance may be politically expedient, but it is not strategically neutral.

From these premises, one may conclude that the Paris Declaration is cautious in obligation and moderate in ambition. Such moderation may preserve alliances and signal resolve, but it does not constrain a revisionist adversary. It reassures partners without necessarily deterring aggressors.

More broadly, the Declaration reflects a recurring tendency in contemporary Western debate: the assumption that Ukraine’s security can be “fixed” through the right legal formula—a pledge, a declaration, or a creative approximation of collective defence. This inverts cause and effect.

As George Kennan observed during the early Cold War, deterrence is not about promises. It is about durable structures that shape an adversary’s calculations over time. Commitments lacking capacity and credibility invite testing rather than restraint. What deterred the Soviet Union was not a clause in a treaty, but a dense architecture of power: permanent military presence, integrated command structures, industrial depth, and strategic resolve. Legal commitments followed power; they did not substitute for it.

If the objective is to prevent renewed russian aggression rather than merely postpone it, the debate must shift from what guarantees Ukraine receives to how deterrence is established and sustained after a ceasefire or interim settlement. That question—and the consequences of getting it wrong—will be addressed in the second part.

Dexter Kram