As US President Donald Trump’s attempts to end the Russian-Ukrainian war appear increasingly hopeless, reports have emerged that the US has included recognition of Moscow’s control over Crimea, which was illegally occupied and annexed by Russia in 2014, as part of a proposed “peace deal” to be presented to the Kremlin.
Quite understandably, there is little chance that Kyiv will agree to recognise any occupied Ukrainian territory as Russian. Even if a Ukrainian president – whether Volodymyr Zelensky or anyone else – were to commit political suicide by accepting Russia’s control over Crimea, such a decision would, legally, require more than just the president’s will. It would also need the approval of the Ukrainian parliament – an outcome that remains highly unlikely.
Nonetheless, both the Ukrainian authorities and society must be prepared to accept that Kyiv will not be able to re-establish sovereign control over Crimea in the foreseeable future. And the sooner Ukrainians let go of illusions about the inevitable return of Crimea, the sooner more pressing and consequential issues can receive the attention they deserve.
The Crimea problem, however, is a valuable lesson for all of us – and the problem did not begin with Russia’s annexation of the peninsula. Long before Russia decided to violate international law and occupy Crimea, the Ukrainian state had, in many ways, already lost it.
After Ukraine regained its independence in 1991, the country faced a long list of challenges – ranging from the collapse of the planned economy, hyperinflation, and flawed privatisation, to energy dependence, a security vacuum, population decline, a weak party system, and the absence of meaningful reform. All of these challenges were compounded by pervasive, all-encompassing corruption.
From a classical political science perspective, Ukraine appeared to be building a typical European nation-state – except it was not. Differing historical experiences (Austro-Hungarian vs. Russian imperial and Soviet rule) contributed to deep regional political, cultural, and linguistic divisions. In a less chaotic post-Soviet environment, it might have been possible to gradually build a consensus on Ukrainian national identity. But corruption made that process virtually impossible, as ethnocultural differences were routinely amplified and weaponised by political forces manipulated by oligarchs.
Crimea was arguably the most distinct region of Ukraine in terms of its ethnocultural composition. Nowhere else in the country did ethnic Russians constitute a majority. According to the 2001 census, 58.5% of Crimea’s population identified as ethnically Russian, while only 24.4% identified as ethnic Ukrainians. In Sevastopol – geographically part of Crimea but administratively a separate entity – ethnic Russians made up 71.6% of the population, whereas ethnic Ukrainians accounted for just 22.4%. Even among those who identified as ethnic Ukrainians, the majority reported Russian as their mother tongue: 59.5% in Crimea and 70.1% in Sevastopol.
While mainland Ukraine slowly matured politically throughout the 2000s, Crimea remained a territory frozen – both politically and culturally – in a Soviet-era reality. It was utterly unreformed and entirely dominated by the old “communist” elite and thugs-turned-politicians. Even compared to other Ukrainian regions still plagued by Soviet legacies and systemic corruption, Crimea stood out – and Ukrainian elites largely ignored it.
Ukrainian pro-Russian political forces viewed Crimea merely as a reservoir of “easy votes” – citizens in Crimea and Sevastopol consistently supported them in all types of elections. When support faltered, political technologists weaponised the language issue, promising to make Russian Ukraine’s second state language, or fabricating threats of Ukrainian ultranationalism and forced Ukrainisation. These tactics proved effective time and again in mobilising the Crimean electorate against the “pro-Western” national-democratic forces.
For their part, Ukrainian national-democrats – who envisioned Ukraine as a largely ethnoculturally homogeneous state – simply did not know what to do with 1.5 million ethnic Russians and hundreds of thousands of Russian-speaking Ukrainians in Crimea and Sevastopol. Crimea was not part of their mental map of Ukraine – if such a map even existed. They may have wanted to promote Ukrainisation in the region, but lacked both the necessary skills and local support. After several failed attempts to extend the influence of the ethnic Ukrainian project, national-democrats largely gave up. I have no doubt that many of them quietly believed Russia would eventually annex Crimea anyway – so they stopped bothering.
And all that time, Russia maintained cultural domination in Crimea, and Russia’s political interests ran parallel even to the political efforts of Ukrainian pro-Russian parties. Russia invested in a wide range of projects in Crimea and Sevastopol, ranging from infrastructure to education to various soft power initiatives. Moreover, the “return” of Crimea and Sevastopol to Russia was part of the Russian national mythology that manifested itself through films, music, and other forms of culture since the 1990s. While Ukrainian elites neglected Crimea, Russia saw the peninsula as an indispensable element of the Russian national project. Moscow wanted Crimea more than Kyiv took the trouble of keeping it.
As independent Ukraine had never made a concerted effort to reform its post-Soviet army or security services, Crimea was an easy target for Russia when a power vacuum emerged following the 2014 Ukrainian Revolution, which was won by the national-democrats. Ukraine had squandered more than two decades of independence without drawing any lessons from Russia’s earlier occupations of parts of Moldova and Georgia – developments that should have prompted a more serious approach to national security.
Ukraine did not resist the Russian occupation and annexation of Crimea – partly because it lacked the military means, partly because the Barack Obama administration advised the frightened and disoriented Ukrainian revolutionary leadership not to resist, and partly because the national-democrats simply did not know what to do with Crimea. The peninsula appeared natural on the geographic map of Ukraine, but it remained absent from the national-democrats’ mental map of the country.
Since 2014, little has changed. Ukrainian authorities have attempted to play various cards in an effort to reverse the Russian annexation of Crimea. One was the card of the Crimean Tatars, an ethnic minority indigenous to Crimea. After the annexation, a segment of the Crimean Tatar community relocated to mainland Ukraine. Some of them positioned themselves as an indigenous people under threat, drawing attention to Russian repression and seeking international legal protections under frameworks such as the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.
Another approach focused on highlighting the deteriorating human rights situation for ethnic minorities in Russian-occupied Crimea, particularly ethnic Ukrainians, who faced intimidation, cultural suppression, and systemic discrimination. Ukrainian officials and civil society actors have used these abuses to strengthen the case for international pressure on Russia – framing the occupation not only as a breach of territorial integrity, but as a humanitarian and human rights crisis unfolding under Russian rule.
In 2021, Kyiv launched the so-called Crimea Platform, a diplomatic initiative with the primary goal of coordinating international efforts to end Russia’s occupation of Crimea and to restore Ukrainian sovereignty over the peninsula. It was also intended to keep the issue of Crimea high on the global agenda, preventing the normalisation of the annexation and ensuring sustained political, legal, and sanctions pressure on Russia.
However, none of Kyiv’s efforts aimed at de-occupying Crimea has ever addressed the most obvious and fundamental challenge: even if we momentarily set aside the fact that Crimea is controlled by Russia – and that Russia is unlikely to ever relinquish the peninsula – ethnic Russians remain the majority in both Crimea and Sevastopol. How does this reality fit into the political imagination of Ukrainian national-democrats? Where exactly does Crimea belong within their vision of the Ukrainian national project?
Any meaningful discussion about Crimea’s unlikely yet still potential future as part of Ukraine must begin with its ethnocultural majority – not solely its minority groups. And yet tellingly, there is no Russian-language version of the Crimea Platform’s website – despite Russian being the mother tongue of the overwhelming majority of Crimea’s population even well before the annexation.
The annexation of Crimea was an unlawful act of geopolitical violence that resulted in a far-reaching tragedy on multiple levels. Many people – including ethnic Russians – were forced to leave the peninsula, only to be replaced by Russian citizens encouraged by the state to relocate to the occupied Ukrainian territory. Ukrainian citizens who remained in Crimea lost many of the political and social freedoms they had enjoyed under Ukrainian governance.
Given the Kremlin’s position on Crimea – “Crimea is eternally Russian” – which is unlikely to change under any post-Putin regime, Ukraine can reclaim the peninsula only by force. This seemed like a plausible scenario back in 2023, when Ukraine was preparing its (ultimately unsuccessful) counteroffensive. That option is now off the table. Yet even in the event of a future forceful return of Crimea to Ukraine and the removal of all Russian citizens who arrived illegally, the core challenge would remain: there are still no viable plans for integrating Crimea into the Ukrainian national project.
As a result, Ukraine would be left with a sizeable region of two million people that could continue to destabilise the country and undermine its efforts at modernisation, liberalisation, and Westernisation. Perhaps this is a price some Ukrainian politicians would be prepared to pay – but what exactly would it be a price for?
It cannot be for the Ukrainian citizens currently in annexed Crimea. If that were the case, Ukraine would have already tried to draw them away from Russian control, helped them relocate to mainland Ukraine, and given them opportunities to contribute to Ukraine’s development.
It cannot be for the territory itself, since Crimea was a financial burden under Ukrainian governance and remains a financial burden under Russian occupation.
Nor can it be solely for Black Sea security. While it is true that the regional security landscape has changed dramatically for the EU and NATO – with Sevastopol becoming the largest naval base under full Russian control – the rise of naval drones has revolutionised the security framework in the Black Sea, effectively offsetting many of Russia’s supposed military advantages.
What else then?...
Naturally, no state in the world should recognise Russia’s annexation of Crimea, Sevastopol, or any other Ukrainian region – doing so would not only legitimise an act of aggression, but also further erode the already fragile foundations of international law. Recognition would set a dangerous precedent and could encourage other regional and global powers to pursue similar strategies elsewhere. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why the Trump administration reportedly included recognition of Russia’s control over Crimea in its proposed “peace deal” – particularly in light of Trump’s own provocative remarks about Canada and Greenland. Regardless, the West and its allies should firmly and unequivocally reject such an idea.
At the same time, given the absence of even a theoretically viable plan for the de-occupation of Crimea, Ukraine may need to come to terms with Russia’s de facto control of the peninsula – not out of goodwill, but as part of a broader negotiation: in exchange for an end to the war, ironclad security guarantees, and EU integration.
This is not a surrender to geopolitical cynicism, but a sober appeal for Ukrainian strategic maturity. It is a call to Kyiv to move beyond symbolic maximalism and engage with the complexities of national identity, governance, and diplomacy – not in place of principle, but in service of a more sustainable and sovereign future.
Grateful to Sébastien Gobert for discussing my article "Rethinking Crimea" in his recent podcast (in French): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVWSuSs-gg8
If I were on a mission to end Russia's war on Ukraine*, I would push for Crimea and southeastern Ukraine - the area currently under Russian occupation - to be treated as independent states. Obviously, this isn't an ideal solution, and I'm sure it would be unpalatable to most people in Kyiv and unacceptable to Putin, who clearly wants the complete subjugation of Ukraine. However, it would solve a few problems, and I think it would have benefits for all parties involved. (And it's clearly better than what Trump is proposing.)
*This is assuming other countries don't step up to help Ukraine win the war.