If BentGent could write a letter to President Putin that we knew would be delivered, it would pose a sincere question: What do you fear from us? We wish for peace, for respect for national sovereignty, for a world in which free agency is the birthright of every people. We ask, simply and earnestly: why do you fear us so?
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine did not spring from thin air. It is the culmination of decades of insecurity, grievance, ambition, and strategic calculation. Vladimir Putin, shaped by a KGB worldview and hardened by Russia’s collapse in the 1990s, views the post–Cold War order not as a triumph of democracy but as a slow encroachment on a wounded giant. His regime sees the expansion of NATO and the West’s emphasis on liberal values as existential threats to Russian identity, influence, and autonomy. In that mindset, Ukraine’s drift toward Europe is not just a geopolitical shift — it is a direct affront to Russian dignity.
But in posing the question to him — “President Putin, what is it you fear from us?” — one can see the paradox at the heart of his posture. For if the West’s only “designs” were open markets, free borders, cultural exchange, collective security for smaller states, and the promise that sovereign nations choose their own alliances, then what is there to fear? Why must Ukraine’s aspiration to join NATO be met with tanks instead of diplomacy?
Putin’s paranoia — real or manufactured — rests on several pillars. First, the memory of imperial collapse and humiliation. To many in Russia’s ruling class, the disintegration of the Soviet Union was not a moment of liberation but a catastrophic decline. Second, the internal politics of authoritarian rule: projecting strength externally helps consolidate power internally. Third, Russia’s strategic geography means it prizes buffer zones, and the loss of Ukraine threatens both prestige and military depth. Fourth, Russia’s economic model remains largely resource-based; its rulers fear integration with the West might expose corruption, undermine state control, or invite external leverage over energy, finance, or technology.
Yet these fears do not excuse invasion. The degree to which the West has expanded — gradually, through democratic choice, not by force — was predictable and, in itself, defensible by law and principle. NATO did not march into Ukraine uninvited; Ukraine and other Eastern European states asked to join. The argument that allowing free agency invites war is a logic more suited to tyranny than to a liberal order.
The West’s response — sanctions, military support to Ukraine, strategic deterrence — reflects suffering but also resolve. And yet it is inadequate unless paired with moral clarity: we will not make peace at the price of abandoning sovereignty, nor will we consign smaller nations to spheres of influence. Trump’s outreach to Putin, his warmth toward Russia, saw little return because the problem is not merely personal or diplomatic miscalculation. It lies in a fundamental clash of visions: one where power flows from dominance and control, and another where it flows from dignity, consent, and rule of law.
If we at BentGent could send that letter, we would end it this way:
President Putin, we ask you — not as supplicants, but as equals — why you cannot see that Ukraine’s freedom to choose its alliances is not an attack on Russia, but an affirmation of what the world is trying to build: a system where no nation is compelled, coerced, or threatened. We do not hold a weapon to your door; we hold out our hand. Will you take it? Or will your fears keep you in perpetual war?
We remain ready — as a nation of immigrants, strengthened by our diversity, guided by the belief that freedom is indivisible. Our motto still holds true: E pluribus unum — out of many, one.
Sincerely and Respectfully,
Roman Acliffe
Editor-in-Chief, BentGent.com