Robots. A word that has shaped our imagination and our world. Ever wondered where it came from? From Czech language, of course.

This is one of the Czech inventions known to the entire world. Coined by writer Karel Čapek, the word has come to symbolize both progress and peril.

Čapek, a staunch pacifist, envisioned robots as tools created to serve humanity, but he also foresaw their potential to rebel against their creators.

Today, that vision feels chillingly relevant, as robots — drones, to be precise — dominate modern battlefields, reshaping the way wars are fought and the way power is wielded.

Čapek’s era was also one of conflict. Munich, September 1938: in a desperate attempt to avoid war, European leaders betrayed Czechoslovakia, ceding its territory to Hitler. For Čapek, who died shortly after the betrayal, it was a crushing blow to his faith in justice and human decency.

History does not repeat itself, as the saying goes, but it does often rhyme.

Today, as Ukraine fights not just for its sovereignty but for the principles that underpin the democratic world, we are confronted with echoes of that fateful year. Once again, there are voices urging compromise, suggesting that stability can be purchased by sacrificing justice. Once again, there are those who believe appeasement can satisfy a dictator’s ambitions.

But as Czechs, we know too well the cost of such thinking. Munich did not bring peace. It ushered in occupation, destruction, and one of the darkest chapters of the 20th century.

Appeasement emboldened Hitler, just as it will embolden Putin. To abandon Ukraine is to abandon the principle that nations have the right to determine their own destiny.

A poorly negotiated peace with Russia would not end the war — it would merely delay the next one.

A ceasefire that freezes territorial gains or denies Ukraine its rightful place in the European and transatlantic community would reward the Kremlin’s violence and deceit. It would also grant legitimacy to war crimes and ensure that the perpetrators of atrocities in Bucha, Mariupol, and Irpin walk free.

Do we really want to live in a world where the aggressors and war criminals escape accountability while we, the democratic world, foot the bill for reconstruction? Do we really want to live in a world where Russia's frozen assets are returned, as if nothing ever happened?

This is not peace — it is surrender dressed up as diplomacy. Russia is running out of options, but desperation can be dangerous. If we allow our resolve to waver and our support for Ukraine to falter, Moscow will achieve through this "Munichian diplomacy" what it could not on the battlefield: domination, destabilization, and the erosion of the democratic world order.

The reality is that success for Russia is failure for the West. This is a zero-sum game, and the stakes are the principles that underpin our shared future — sovereignty, justice, and accountability.

We must reject any negotiation that ignores these stakes.

Peace talks cannot devolve into mere territorial bargaining. We must talk about holding war criminals accountable for their atrocities, on securing the return of children abducted by Russia, and on ensuring reparations are paid.

Addressing the full scope of justice is essential to prevent aggressors from rewriting the rules of international law. As I have previously said,

peace starts with holding the aggressor accountable.

The lessons of Munich remind us that retreating from our principles in the name of short-term stability only invites greater instability. Peace demands courage, persistence, and, above all, clarity: clarity that Ukraine’s victory is not just its own — it is a victory for the democratic world led by nations that understand the price of freedom.