The scars of a brutal Russian occupation remain vividly etched into the Kyiv suburb of Bucha, where mass graves and bullet-riddled churches stand as silent witnesses to atrocities. Now, a new source of profound anguish is emerging for its traumatized residents: a proposed U.S.-led peace plan that would offer a blanket post-war amnesty for the perpetrators of those very crimes.
A Community's Pain Clashes with Geopolitics
For the survivors of Bucha, where hundreds of Ukrainians were killed in 2022, the suggested amnesty feels less like a path to reconciliation and more like a deep betrayal. This sentiment resonates in communities across Ukraine, reflecting nationwide concerns about the implications of absolving Russia, its troops, and its officials of alleged war crimes.
The town's Church of Andrew the Apostle, still bearing damage from the conflict, overlooks one of the mass graves. Here, civilians—some executed in the streets, others showing signs of torture—were laid to rest. Father Andriy Halavin, who leads the parish, fears any amnesty would only serve to legitimize further violence as the war continues.
"It's a green light," Father Andriy stated after a Sunday service. "It means you can keep bombing, keep executing soldiers, all with confidence that nothing will happen." The mass killings were uncovered after Russian forces withdrew from the area following their failed attempt to seize Kyiv early in the full-scale invasion. He insists that justice is not about revenge, but about proving that accountability still matters, especially as Ukrainians face painful compromises for peace.
The Contentious Peace Proposal
The proposed 28-point peace deal followed secret negotiations by envoys representing Russia and U.S. President Donald Trump. Its terms, as reported, would require significant concessions from Ukraine:
- Relinquishing territory beyond what Moscow currently controls.
- Reducing its military capacity.
- Abandoning its goal of NATO membership.
In return, Kyiv would receive international security guarantees and assistance for reconstruction. For many, this price is too high, especially when coupled with the amnesty clause.
Grief and Defiance at the Gravesides
At Bucha's military cemetery, the human cost of the war is palpable. Vira Katanenko, 66, visited the grave of her son Andrii, who was killed in battle in the Donetsk region last year. For her, the peace plan and its proposed amnesty are unthinkable.
"I can't accept that," she said. "They want forgiveness for all war crimes, including Bucha? That's horrifying. Let them come here — let Trump himself come here. Let him and his family come, see our pain, and maybe then they'll change their minds."
This disillusionment is shared at the highest levels. European leaders insist that any peace talks must include Ukraine and protect its sovereignty. Ukraine's President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has described the plan as one of the war's most difficult moments, pledging to work with Washington while seeking changes to the proposal.
A short drive from Bucha, the uncertainty surrounding the peace plan weighed heavily on mourners at the funeral of serviceman Ruslan Zhyhunov, a 41-year-old machine gunner killed in eastern Ukraine. As they watched the burial in the rain, it served as another stark reminder of how fragile any promised future now feels.
Andrii Honcharuk, a 71-year-old retired territorial defense volunteer who attended the service in uniform, captured the prevailing mood of defiance. "How can you exchange the territory of your ancestors for something? For what?" he asked. "The war will not end soon. We will still be dying for a long time."
