It is the best of times, it is the worst of times to be a man of fighting age in Ukraine. Despite persistent Russian gains into their homeland, despite the gut-wrenching losses amongst their friends and the daily tragedy of civilian bombardment, morale is remarkably high. Ukrainians I’ve worked with generally feel they are on the right side of a world-historical crisis and believe that victory (broadly construed) will inevitably be theirs. They relish their membership in a scrappy, motivated, innovative brotherhood that is admired and supported at home and (however fitfully) by the wider free world.

　　Strictly speaking, however, they are also effectively prisoners of the Ukrainian state, held as a fighting reserve against ceaseless Russian meat-wave assaults. It’s frightening and exhausting, and it takes an emotional toll. Mobilization drafts, updated recently by Verkhovna Rada Law 10449, expressly prohibit men aged 18 to 60 from leaving the borders of Ukraine without authorization for exceptional circumstances.

　　This reality was brought starkly home during our recent attempts to convene a handful of frontline Ukrainian operators with politicians, donors, and volunteers in the US. The idea was to help bridge the anonymity gap, bringing policymakers face-to-face with combat-hardened freedom fighters, asking members of Congress to pass the long-punted US military aid package for Ukraine.

　　The effort was eventually successful, but the difficulty in getting these defenders of freedom out of their own country served as a stark reminder to freedom-lovers everywhere: individual freedom is inevitably tied to the freedom of the body politic. Herbert Spencer, writing in the nineteenth century, noted that:

　　The preservation of … a nation, is an end which must take precedence of individual preservation … and as also justifying that subordination of the right to liberty, which military service and subjection necessitate. 

　　As Americans, we tend to lose sight of this fact, taking as a given our liberty to come and go as we please. Ukrainians, meanwhile, are grappling with the challenge of upholding the freedoms of an open society while locked in an existential battle against a totalitarian adversary that crushes any such individualist abstractions.

　　A vivid example is Ukraine’s internal tension on how and when to forcibly conscript its free men to fight against its invader. Ukraine is having a difficult time of it, not least because they have lacked the sort of draft registries Americans also take as given. Discussing Ukraine’s amended conscription law, Member of Parliament and the Committee on National Security, Defence, and Intelligence, Fedir Venislavskyi, notes that:

　　For almost the entire period of Ukraine’s independence, the military registration system has been largely destroyed for objective and subjective reasons, including the targeted influence of Russia. The purpose of the adopted draft law is to ensure that all persons liable for military service aged 18 to 60 update their personal data related to military registration. … After that, the state will see a complete picture of who it can count on and what our mobilisation potential is.

　　The fact that Ukraine does not know precisely how many citizens it can rely on as a fighting force is a surprise, and only slightly more surprising is the fact that their minimum age of conscription is twenty-five (as opposed to eighteen). In fact, this minimum age is a reduction from twenty-seven, the result of a hard-fought political battle waged, oddly enough, in the midst of an invasion. These facts ring strangely in American ears—while our liberties have rarely been directly threatened by an outside invader, we seem to have an intuitive (or perhaps constitutionally informed) grasp of the societal requirements to defend our freedom.

　　If a nation must resort to coercion to protect its freedoms, is it entirely worthy of the sacrifice it demands?

　　Some of this may come down to an essential difference in cultural outlook. Ukraine, after all, is plagued by a good number of vestigial Soviet relics—everything from interminable bureaucracies to a grab-what-you-can norm amongst some of the older generation. One aspect of this “bad memory syndrome” is in the widespread sentiment amongst Ukrainians that they do not wish to “lose a generation” by sending their young men off to war, perhaps to be squandered on the frontlines by Soviet-style commanders. As a friend of mine fighting near Chasiv Yar worries, these commanders are inclined only to “assault and counterassault … with little interest in personnel-friendly tactics.”

　　The concern is understandable and highlights a kind of national schizophrenia on the subject of military service—a disconnect we ourselves might experience if the situation presented itself. At the community level, voluntary military service is genuinely admired. Wives and grandmothers are quick to proudly declare their relatives’ service, little boys wear hand-me-down fatigues and get their hands shaken in the street. Meanwhile, scores of fighting-age men skulk in their apartments or quietly slip off to places like Poland and Holland. I saw a young man in a Bentley in Krakow, nonchalantly enjoying the sights and sounds of a country not at war. Maybe he was only twenty-four …

　　Its difficult to know what to make of all this. It’s clear that freedom requires vigorous defense when the country is under siege. It is, after all, quite possible to lose everything if the desire to avoid “losing a generation” means that no one is left to stand at the gates. Does this then require the firm hand of the state to force men to sacrifice their liberty so that the rest of the people’s liberty can be maintained? Or is this like the old critique of socialism which contemptuously accuses its proponents of having “ideas so great they have to be made mandatory”? Cannot a society rely entirely on volunteer defenders? If not, why not?

　　Truth be told, Ukraine is already losing a generation in its de-facto policy of sending young women and children off to the rest of Europe, many of whom have no intention of returning. Divorce and separations are rampant, and stories of Ukrainian children in Italy, Germany, and Holland integrating permanently into their refuge homes make it clear that Ukraine will face significant demographic challenges in the not-too-distant future. Existential crises can be internal as well as external.

　　Our team’s experience in attempting to bring fighting-age men out from under the pale of Ukrainian conscription laws brought to light just how complex the dynamic is between state rules and individual freedom. The financial costs were of little consequence: donors in Britain and America generously footed the expense. Getting the required visas for travel into the United States was also relatively straightforward—in this age of heightened immigrant concerns, it was startling how quickly and professionally the US embassy system worked when presented with a compelling case. Getting permission from the Ukrainian authorities, however, proved the toughest nut to crack. They clearly had a strong aversion to granting exemptions to a rule that heavily encumbers the liberty of men who are required to defend the liberty of the nation. Is it simply the time-worn paradox of warfare, that one must be unfree to protect freedom? Or is there something deeper to be gleaned here about the nature of voluntary civil society itself? If a nation must resort to coercion to protect its freedoms, is it entirely worthy of the sacrifice it demands?

　　Russia, of course, is grappling with its own complex dynamic in this regard, albeit from a radically different position—they are the offensive invading force, acting under the dictate of a totalitarian regime. Hebert Spencer wrote, “While there is a quasi-ethical justification for whatever encroachment on the right of property is necessitated for the purposes of defensive war, there is no justification for any such encroachment for the purposes of offensive war.” Russia’s conscription challenges are therefore doubly disastrous for freedom: as Putin’s regime looks to fill its requirements for further assaults in Ukraine, it deprives not only its own citizens of their (limited) liberty, but that of their Ukrainian targets as well.

　　Ukrainian men I know take this all reasonably in stride—they intuitively understand the sacrifices required and remain convinced they will ultimately prevail in our era’s most salient attempt at extinguishing the flame of liberty amongst a free people. This confidence, however, doesn’t make the restrictions and the risks any easier to bear. The example serves as a stark reminder to those of us in the free world who may be prone to take liberty for granted—the day will surely come when we, too, will be called to give up our personal freedoms to assure the freedom of our society.