When I sat down with Professor Paul Robinson for this episode of the Open Minds Podcast, I wasn’t quite prepared for how far our conversation would push against the boundaries of conventional thinking — or how deeply it would affirm something I’ve suspected for a long time: We’ve lost the art of real debate in Western democracies.
The Ukraine-Russia war is framed in stark moral binaries — democracy vs. autocracy, freedom vs. tyranny, the righteous West vs. an expansionist East. And yet, when you peel back the layers, much of the narrative starts to crumble. Professor Robinson, a former British Army Intelligence officer and Canadian Forces reservist turned academic, does just that.
Consider this: Western sanctions, intended to isolate and cripple Russia, have arguably hurt the West more. Inflation spiked across G7 nations — 8% in the U.S., over 9% in the U.K., 6.8% here in Canada — largely due to energy shocks. Meanwhile, Russia continued exporting oil and gas through backchannels, even increasing revenues thanks to the ruble’s devaluation and rising commodity prices. India and China simply stepped in as buyers. Did nobody see this coming?
Robinson suggests that sanctions are often more about “showing you’re doing something” than actually altering the strategic balance. He points out that these measures are rarely effective unless imposed all at once — and even then, they often fail. The Canadian sanctions list, with over 1,500 Russian individuals banned from entry or economic ties, includes many who’ve never set foot in Canada or done business here. What does that actually achieve?
Perhaps what struck me most was how little space exists for dissenting views. Even before the war, Ukraine’s democracy was flawed. Multiple global indexes ranked it among the most corrupt states in Europe. Zelensky’s rise to power, backed by 73% of the vote, seemed promising — but even before the war, opposition media were being shut down and rivals jailed. Yet, anyone who raises these facts is often accused of parroting “Russian propaganda.”
This is where Robinson’s quote about Russophrenia hits hard: the idea that we simultaneously describe Russia as a collapsing gas station-state — and also as a looming existential threat. These contradictions aren’t just confusing — they’re strategic. They prevent honest conversations.
We also touched on the use of military force. For a conflict said to be “modern,” the war is shockingly traditional. Trenches, artillery, attrition, drones with fiber-optic cables — not the surgical precision warfare I was taught to expect. Up to 10,000 shells a day, trench lines barely moving, and a staggering human cost. In fact, as Robinson notes, about 90% of casualties are military — this isn’t a war of genocide, it’s a grinding slugfest of state vs. state.
But what about after the war?
Ukraine’s population is shrinking dramatically. From 51 million in the early ’90s to possibly under 30 million today, due to migration, war deaths, and a fertility rate of just 0.7. At the same time, its rich farmland and rare-earth minerals are drawing in foreign investors, spurred on by IMF loan conditions requiring privatization. Could Ukraine be heading toward vassal status? What happens when aid comes with strings attached — and when your country becomes a vehicle for other nations’ economic and strategic interests?
More importantly: Why aren’t we talking about any of this?
The lack of foresight, the moral framing of every policy choice, the absence of real parliamentary debate — all of it raises a deeper question. Have we created an environment where difficult truths are simply too risky to say out loud?
Robinson doesn’t claim to have all the answers. But he reminds us that asking the right questions — and allowing space for those questions to breathe — might just be the first step to a more honest public conversation.
So I’ll leave you with this:
What would it take for us to be truly honest about the war in Ukraine? And who stands to lose the most if we are?
