Today, 6 December, I have received many congratulations on the occasion of the Day of the Armed Forces of Ukraine. Yet, in my heart, I do not accept these congratulations. I do not feel a sense of celebration. Because, on the one hand, we all understand that our rear, our relative calm and our future rest on the shoulders of soldiers. On the other hand, we are witnessing a profound lack of understanding on the part of the governing elite of the challenges faced by those who defend the country.
We are facing an empty budget in which no resources have been found to increase financial support for the military in the coming year. We are facing a failed mobilisation reform, as a result of which the fighting army is suffering. We are facing the anticipated and systematic marginalisation of combatants through Law No. 8271, which has criminalised members of the military as allegedly the most socially dangerous representatives of our society. As a result, servicemen and servicewomen no longer enjoy, within criminal proceedings, anything close to the scope of procedural rights and guarantees provided by the state to all other citizens.
Instead of dwelling solely on the problems, I would like to speak about what truly unites us and sustains us in these difficult times.
The Australian writer Colleen McCullough, in her series of historical novels Masters of Rome, consistently linked the logic of Roman leaders’ behaviour to the concept of dignitas. In Roman culture, dignitas meant a person’s individual political and moral capital, accumulated over a lifetime. It encompassed military valour, moral authority, public service, noble lineage and, ultimately, conformity with the ideals of a true Roman.
In one of the volumes of her Roman cycle, the author describes a dialogue between the dictator Lucius Cornelius Sulla and the young Gaius Julius Caesar. In this conversation, Sulla demands that Caesar divorce his wife Cornelia, as she belonged to the family of his enemy, Cinna.
Caesar refused, fully aware that this decision could cost him his life. He placed honor familiae — the honour and dignity of his family — above his own survival. He understood that if he consented, his dignitas would be destroyed forever.
The concept of honour was also decisive when Caesar crossed the Rubicon, as returning to Rome as a private citizen would have meant humiliation before Pompey and the loss of dignitas. The internal monologue in the novel states this plainly: ‘It is better to risk everything than to let enemies trample on my honour’.
Honour and dignity are not abstractions; they are mechanisms that drive history, at times more powerful than logic or law.
In the contemporary context, countless Ukrainian stories bear witness to the manifestation of true dignitas. One such powerful and eloquent moment occurred on 21 March 2014, when cadets of the Nakhimov Naval Academy sang the Ukrainian national anthem as the occupiers raised a shameful rag — the flag of russia — thereby demonstrating their loyalty to Ukraine. Their act became a symbol of Ukrainian resistance.
Honour and dignity are also embodied in the story of our soldier Oleksandr Matsievskyi, who was captured by russian forces near Soledar and publicly executed. When ordered to submit, he lit a cigarette and calmly said: ‘Glory to Ukraine!’
From the perspective of evolutionary theory, his action was irrational. By refusing to comply, he reduced his chances of survival to zero. Yet humans are social beings, and for the survival of our society, this was a confident, rational and conscious act of a Person of Honour. In the historical context, it revealed to the occupiers the utter futility of their attempts to subjugate our nation by breaking its honour and will to fight. For us, it stands as an example of extraordinary personal heroism, worthy of emulation.
What do we invest in honour today?
Honour is not medals on the chest, not positions, not grand speeches. It is an inner core — something that cannot be taken off or put on when convenient. It is what once sustained the hero Oleksandr Matsievskyi and the young cadets of the Nakhimov Naval School. An inner core that serves as a compass for every one of our actions.
For Ukrainians, honour begins with truth. With the ability to look hardship in the eye and not look away. With the readiness to keep one’s word, even when no one is watching. With responsibility not only for oneself, but also for the person standing beside you.
Honour is when you remain human where others give up. When you could stay silent, but you speak the truth. When you could step aside, but you stand shoulder to shoulder. When you could lower your hands, but instead you lift another.
Today, the word ‘honour’ has acquired a new resonance. It is written on body armour, in hospital wards, in volunteer chats, on the shattered streets and schools of our cities.
It is the honour of our service members — those who choose to risk every morning so that others may choose life. It is the honour of our medics — those who hold the hand of a stranger and bring them back to life. It is the honour of volunteers — people who have replaced entire systems to save others. It is the honour of ordinary families — parents who teach their children to value freedom.
Ukraine now stands precisely on such people — people of honour. And each of us, regardless of our role, also carries a share of this inner core.
There are many states in the world, but not every state is a nation. A nation is created not by population, but by values. And among our greatest values are freedom, dignity, justice and honour.
When an individual chooses honour, they inspire others. When a society chooses honour, it becomes stronger than weapons. When a state chooses honour, it earns respect.
Today, Ukraine has become a global symbol of honour. Our example shows that honour is not a beautiful word, but a force that changes reality.
War is darkness. Yet even in darkness, one must walk with confidence if one knows where they are going. Our path is not only to defeat the enemy. Our path is to defeat indifference, corruption, distrust and the inner shadows that prevent us from flourishing.
Ukraine of the future is a country where honour is the norm, not an act of heroism. Where justice is not an exception. Where everyone knows that success begins with a personal choice — a choice we make every day.
Today, each of us is a guardian of Ukraine’s destiny. We hold the line not only on the map — we hold it in our own hearts. Honour is our compass. Ukraine is our home. And as long as these two words live within us, we are unbreakable. We will endure. We will remain a nation that knows: freedom is always worth fighting for.
The honour of Ukrainians is becoming a global brand — just as the military valour of the Ukrainian warrior has become one.
Once, struck by the daring and resilience of Caesar, who was ready to pay with his life for his honour and dignity, Sulla said: ‘There is much of Sulla in this boy.’
In our time — a world of hypocrisy, compromises and the trade in interests — when one encounters an open, honest, principled and steadfast person, a different definition should be heard: ‘There is much of a Ukrainian in him’.
