In recent days both Henry Kissinger, the former US secretary of state, and Max Hastings, one of the UK’s most distinguished contemporary historians, have suggested that the only way the war in Ukraine can be brought to an end is through a negotiation. It is a view shared by Emmanuel Macron and Olaf Scholz who, judging by their recent telephone conversation with Vladimir Putin, see themselves as having a role in bringing such a negotiation about.
Some wars do indeed end through negotiations, but most don’t. The most common conclusion to a war is a military victory by one side and surrender by the other. This is how, for example, the Second World War ended. Germany’s armed forces had been destroyed and its territory occupied. The allies had made clear that the only terms they were prepared to offer was unconditional surrender, and this is what happened. There was nothing to negotiate about. Similarly in the case of Japan: although its mainland territory had not been occupied it was clear, following the detonation of the two atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, that its armed forces were no longer able to resist and its leadership had no realistic option other than, like Germany, to accept an unconditional surrender.
The Falklands War of 1982 and the First Gulf War of 1990 also ended with the surrender of one side, without the need for any negotiation. So too did the Vietnam War and the war in Afghanistan after the Americans pulled out: in both cases the local government forces effectively faded away and the North Vietnamese and the Taliban took over.
The First World War was a slightly different case. The German army was not defeated on the battlefield, but it was being pushed gradually back and its leadership, field marshal Paul von Hindenburg and general Erich Ludendorff, judged that further resistance would be fruitless, particularly following the entry of the United States into the war. However, they declined to take responsibility themselves for surrendering, insisting that civilian representatives did so. The negotiations at Versailles in 1919 that followed the surrender, and which resulted in the imposition of humiliating terms, were also conducted by civilians. This fostered the “dolchstoßlegende,” the myth of a stab in the back, according to which the Germany army had not been defeated but was betrayed by treacherous politicians. It was a myth that the National Socialists traded on heavily.
Finland’s two wars with the Soviet Union, the Winter War of 1939-1940 and the Continuation War of 1941-1944, also ended on dictated terms. In neither case was the Finnish army destroyed or the whole of the country occupied. But the Finns recognised that to continue fighting would be to risk a national catastrophe and that it was therefore better to accept the loss of a significant part of their territory.
Two wars that were ended by a negotiation were those of Yugoslavian succession, which culminated in the Dayton agreement of 1995, and the Troubles in Northern Ireland, which resulted in the Belfast agreement of 1998. In each case the talks were protracted and an outside chairman was involved: the American diplomat Richard Holbrooke in the former, the American senator George Mitchell in the latter. They also produced lasting solutions in that although the underlying political problems remain unresolved, fighting has not, at any rate up to now, resumed.
The conclusion of the Dayton agreement was made possible because all the warring parties had come to realise that they were unlikely to achieve their goals through further hostilities and, in the case of the Bosnian Serbs, that the balance of military advantage might begin to turn against them. In the case of the Belfast agreement, the key factor was the acceptance by the Provisional IRA that no matter how many more bombs they let off or how many more people they murdered, the British people were not going to demand a withdrawal from Northern Ireland.
It is possible to foresee circumstances where Russia may be attracted by a negotiated outcome to the current war. If it succeeds in occupying the whole of the Donbas, thus securing a land bridge with Crimea, it might conclude that this is enough to satisfy its strategic aims—at least for the time being. It would fall short of the complete occupation of Ukraine that Putin once seemed to be contemplating. But if accompanied by a guarantee that Ukraine would not join Nato and perhaps by some limitations on the size of its armed forces, as well as the removal of sanctions, this could—from a Russian perspective—be characterised as a victory.
It is less easy however to see why a negotiated outcome would be attractive to Ukraine. The Ukrainians probably calculate that even if they lose the Donbas, they will be able to hold on to Odesa and the rest of the country. They may also hope that, as suggested by professor Michael Clarke in his recent article in the Sunday Times, the military balance will shift in their favour in the autumn. If negotiating means accepting de jure the loss of territory then they may well prefer, despite the further loss of life, to continue to fight a war of attrition. It is in any case their decision, not one for outsiders.
