When the Russian-controlled Kakhovka dam in southern Ukraine burst, it unleashed the worst environmental crisis in decades, massive flooding, and acute human and animal suffering. Culpability—whether through extreme negligence or deliberate mining—lies squarely at Russia's feet.
The shock of this catastrophe is surpassed only by Russian forces' eagerness to worsen it. Ukrainian civilians, including the country's chief rabbi, were shelled as they tried to flee, while Russians blocked civilian evacuations and taunted, "You're all going to die here."
This watershed event ominously signals more scorched earth tactics. But Russia's targeted violence against Ukrainian civilians has already proven painfully durable. Kherson residents first suffered nine months of torturous occupation, then unrelenting shelling after liberation, and now, the loss of all they own in a single day. It's time for policymakers to face the implications of Russia's real intent: genocide.
As Ukrainians languish in makeshift lifeboats, another historical voyage comes to mind, reminding us of the dire consequences of recognizing genocide too late. Setting sail to Cuba in 1939, Captain Gustov Schröder of the St. Louis led a last-ditch rescue operation of 937 Jewish refugees fleeing escalating persecution in Nazi Germany. The passengers were first denied entry into Cuba and later the United States and Canada. Scattered across Europe, many soon fell under Nazi occupation. Coming so close to safety, nearly one-third of these men, women, and children perished in Auschwitz and other death camps.
Today, the voyage of the Saint Louis is immortalized in statues, museums, and formal apologies from the U.S. and Canada. In 2012, then-U.S. Deputy Secretary of State William Burns admitted that by the spring of 1939, "the dangers were visible...The warnings were already clear for those who cared to listen."
His remarks were matched by policy changes: including the creation of a new special envoy for antisemitism, refugee reforms, and expanded efforts to prevent mass atrocities. Burns vowed that the "next time the world confronts us with another St. Louis...we will be ready to rise to the occasion."
These words were spoken prior to Russia's annexation of Crimea in 2014, when the threat of a new genocide sweeping Europe could scarcely have been predicted, even by an official now serving as CIA director.
Like 1939, Russia is again violating the global obligation that genocides must never again occur. Moscow has now engineered Europe's largest refugee flows since World War II, mass deportations, and sprawling networks of torturous "filtration" camps.
In April, bipartisan congressional representatives affirmed an unfolding genocide in Ukraine. With abundant footage of Russian atrocities, ignoring unfolding genocide in Ukraine would demonstrate the same "out of sight, out of mind" logic that led St. Louis passengers to their deaths.
Beyond morality, a clear-eyed assessment of genocide correctly prescribes the response options available. A response to genocide cannot wait for violence to stop and lawyers to debate in courtrooms. Genocide's unavoidable realities must shape policy planning now.
Genocidal perpetrators are no ordinary killers. Stopping them requires carefully tailored approaches. Consumed by their eliminationist ideology, perpetrators nearly always double down and take larger risks in pursuit of their murderous goals. Putin's decisions to willfully avoid off-ramps, risk cratering the Russian economy, and inch toward destabilizing his own regime through last fall's mobilization all fits this pattern, as does the Kakhovka catastrophe.
Acknowledging Russia's genocidal intent reveals the hollow arguments of voices calling for restricting military aid to Ukraine. As much as Ukrainians desire peace, Nobel Prize winner Oleksandra Matviichuk has argued, "this war...is about the possibility of our existence. If we stop fighting, there will be no more us."
Cloaked in language of negotiated settlements, no call for reducing Ukrainian military aid has ever grappled with the reality of Russian genocide. Ukraine's Foreign Minister Dmytro Kuleba has urged clarity, asking those who are against aid to "rewrite their slogans and write what they really mean—'let the Russians kill, torture, and rape Ukrainians'—because if we don't have weapons, this is what will happen." Patterns of coordinated, systematic Russian atrocities support his claims. Downplaying these realities consigns multitudes to their deaths and will lead to nothing more than the need for future national apologies to Ukrainian genocide survivors.
Facing the hard truths of Russia's genocidal choices also corrects the usage of incorrect historical analogies. Applications of the Northern Ireland Good Friday Agreement never explain why Moscow—publicly committed to Ukraine's annihilation—could be trustworthy negotiators.
To be sure, few easy options remain, but a clear invitation for Ukraine to join NATO is needed. And it is also clear that supporting Ukraine is a beneficial investment for Americans who reap economic, security, and moral rewards. Anything less than the full restoration of Ukraine's 1991 borders bequeaths future Americans a world in which genocide strategically pays off.
Finally, preventing and punishing genocide is a legal obligation for the 152 signatories of the United Nations Genocide Convention, enacted in response to failures to protect the St. Louis passengers and six million other Jewish victims of the Nazi Holocaust.
In a twist of fate, we have another chance to protect members of the same community we failed in 1939. These irreplaceable lives include Elvira Bort, a Jewish Ukrainian Holocaust survivor who became a trailblazing architect of the Ukrainian seaside city Mariupol. Russia razed her city and killed untold thousands, leaving Elvira's bookended by fascism from the East and West.
But the final page is not yet written. While the tragic story of many St. Louis passengers ended in Auschwitz, we can still write a different ending in Ukraine.
Kristina Hook is Assistant Professor of Conflict Management at Kennesaw State University's School of Conflict Management, Peacebuilding, and Development.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
Uncommon Knowledge
Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.
Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.
About the writer
To read how Newsweek uses AI as a newsroom tool, Click here.
