Why Aren't We Talking About Forced Conscription in Ukraine?

Whatever this is... it isn't a free democracy

During yesterday’s extraordinary scene in the Oval Office, you may have heard Vice President JD Vance refer to the practice of “forced conscription” in Ukraine.

“Right now, you guys are going around and forcing conscripts to the front lines because you have manpower problems.” - Vice President J.D. Vance

The unfolding situation in Ukraine regarding forced conscription offers a sobering window into the toll of prolonged conflict and the stark choices facing a nation under siege. As Russia’s war against Ukraine stretches into its third year, Kyiv’s manpower crisis has reached a critical juncture, prompting the Zelenskyy government to escalate conscription efforts in ways that raise both practical and moral questions. This isn’t a story of gallant volunteers rushing to the colors; it’s a grittier tale of a state compelled to compel, with ramifications that ripple far beyond Ukraine’s borders.

Consider the timeline. When Russia invaded in February 2022, Ukraine mobilized swiftly, drawing on a robust pool of volunteers and reservists. By mid-2023, however, the human cost of attrition—tens of thousands killed or wounded—had depleted that initial surge. Enter the Territorial Recruitment Centers, tasked with enforcing conscription laws that, in April 2024, lowered the draft age from 27 to 25 (Reuters, April 3, 2024). Reports and footage—some verified, some contested—show recruiters detaining men in public spaces: marketplaces, transit hubs, even cultural events (BBC, October 25, 2024). The Ukrainian Defense Ministry insists these are lawful measures to bolster a strained military, projecting a need for 160,000 additional troops by year’s end (Kyiv Post, October 15, 2024). Yet the optics are jarring, and the execution has sparked unrest, with clashes documented in cities like Odesa and Lviv.

The numbers frame the challenge. Ukraine’s pre-war pool of 8.7 million draft-eligible men has shrunk to roughly 5 million, factoring in casualties, displacement, and a staggering exodus—nearly 6 million citizens, many of them young men, have fled since 2022 (UNHCR, January 2025). Conscription has already pulled in over a million, but the system is creaking. Training periods, often truncated to weeks or even days, leave recruits ill-prepared for the frontlines (The Guardian, September 12, 2024). Field commanders report high desertion rates and low morale among these reluctant soldiers, a predictable outcome when coercion replaces consent. Meanwhile, evasion is rampant; estimates suggest 20,000 men have crossed borders illegally to dodge the draft, risking treacherous routes like the Tisza River (AP News, November 8, 2023).

This policy isn’t without context. Ukraine faces an existential threat from a Russian military with superior numbers and resources. The Zelenskyy administration argues that without these measures, territorial losses could accelerate, imperiling not just Ukraine but NATO’s eastern flank—a point not lost on Washington and Brussels. Yet the approach tests the resilience of Ukrainian society. Public support for the war remains high, but forced conscription erodes trust when citizens see their sons and brothers dragged away. It’s a delicate balance: how does a democracy wage total war without fracturing its own principles?

For American observers, this is a cautionary tale. The U.S. has poured billions into Ukraine’s defense (CRS Report, December 2024), but manpower can’t be outsourced. As Congress debates further aid, the question looms: can Ukraine sustain this fight without breaking its people? Forced conscription may buy time, but it’s a stopgap, not a strategy. The path forward demands more than rifles—it requires a diplomatic endgame to stanch the bleeding.

---