Ukraine Is Not an Asset Class!

The West risks undermining its credibility by tying aid to economic leverage over a sovereign partner

In the transactional age of geopolitics, it is perhaps inevitable that Ukraine—once the focal point of Western moral clarity—is increasingly being spoken of as an asset-in-waiting. A state to be stabilised, yes, but also securitised. A warzone turned opportunity.

According to recent commentary by Professor Michael Clarke, a seasoned British security analyst, the tone in Washington is shifting. What was once a cause célèbre of democratic resistance is now quietly becoming a question of return on investment. Proposals are being floated in U.S. political and think tank circles as well as the White House itself that would condition future aid on access to Ukraine’s post-war critical minerals, infrastructure and governance mechanisms. Some versions suggest that international supervisory boards—with U.S. vetoes—could oversee reconstruction funds and key sectors.

[https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c337461n3xlo]

This is not an unfamiliar model. It echoes post-conflict arrangements from Bosnia to Iraq, often with mixed results. But in Ukraine’s case, the optics are especially troubling. It is one thing to help a sovereign partner recover from aggression. It is quite another to imply that such support is contingent on economic leverage.

The strategic timing is awkward. Just as Russia intensifies its long war, and Ukraine braces for another grinding year of conflict, the very allies it relies on appear to be reconsidering the nature—and limits—of solidarity. If Kyiv is expected to fight with one hand, and sign away parts of its economic future with the other, it undermines not just morale, but the very principle of sovereignty the West claims to defend.

The moral hazard of conditional aid

Tying future aid to Ukraine’s natural resources or economic governance introduces a dangerous form of moral hazard—not the textbook version found in financial and insurance markets, but a geopolitical one.

In essence, it means Western states might be tempted to treat Ukraine’s suffering not as a human tragedy or a test of international law, but as a gateway to preferred commercial outcomes. The risk is that governments or private actors could support Ukraine just enough to preserve influence or secure returns—without committing to the full scope of rebuilding a sovereign, self-determined state.

That’s the real hazard: once aid becomes transactional, the incentives shift. Instead of empowering Ukraine to emerge as a stable European democracy, there is a perverse risk of incentivising prolonged dependency—where support is contingent, strings are attached, and sovereignty becomes negotiable.

It also creates a precedent. Other countries facing future crises may come to believe that Western support is less about principle and more about portfolio management. That could push them toward more transactional powers—China, Russia, or regional hegemons—where at least the terms of the deal are clear.

Moral hazard, in this context, isn’t just about bad incentives. It’s about eroding the very credibility of Western leadership—and turning solidarity into strategy-by-spreadsheet.

Strategic drift on both sides of the Atlantic

The problem is compounded by diverging transatlantic dynamics. In the United States, bipartisan support for Ukraine is visibly fraying. With Donald Trump, the appetite for continued engagement is under strain. The president has hinted at transactional settlements with Moscow and ceasefire ultimatums that would bypass Kyiv altogether.

In Europe, political will remains stronger, but defence capabilities remain fragmented. The European Union lacks the strategic autonomy to fill any sudden vacuum of U.S. support. Despite the rhetoric of “strategic Europe,” procurement cycles, doctrinal divides, and budgetary inertia suggest that a fully European security framework remains years away.

Respecting agency in reconstruction

None of this suggests Ukraine will—or should—refuse foreign assistance in rebuilding its economy. Reconstruction packages from institutions such as the IMF, World Bank, and European Commission will be critical. Private capital, too, will play a major role—particularly in energy, infrastructure, and digital systems. But sequencing and framing matter.

Despite the pressures of war, Ukraine has made notable gains in transparency, digital governance, and civil society accountability—gains that risk reversal if post-war planning sidelines Ukrainian institutions in favour of externally controlled boards.

Economic partnerships should reflect consent, not coercion. Kyiv must have ownership over its own recovery—not merely to secure national dignity, but to ensure sustainable rebuilding. Governance reform, debt discipline, and transparency are all necessary—but they must be co-developed, not imposed.

If Western support begins to resemble debt diplomacy, the result may not only be a weaker Ukraine but a more cynical world. Post-war investment should strengthen—not supplant—sovereignty.

Time to reset the terms

Ukraine is a bellwether, not just for Eastern Europe but for the credibility of the West’s global posture. If a nation can resist invasion only to find itself brokered by its allies, we risk sending a dangerous message: that freedom is conditional, and partnership is provisional.

This is a moment that calls for strategic patience and moral clarity. Not asset management!