There is a familiar rhythm to wartime disinformation: a false story is planted, a vague official statement is cited, and soon enough it is bouncing across social media and even cable news. On Wednesday, 11 September, the European Union’s defence commissioner, Andrius Kubilius, was asked about one such story that had originated from Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service, or SVR. The claim was that Brussels had been pressing Kyiv to mobilise Ukrainian women, and that EU foreign policy chief Kaja Kallas had described such a step as moving in the right direction. Speaking at a press conference, Kubilius did not mince words. He said he had no information to support the claim, that it would be strange for Europe to try to convince Ukrainians how to run their own mobilisation, and that he was not surprised the lie had come from the Kremlin. It was a blunt, matter-of-fact rejection of an absurd rumour, yet it also captured something larger: the Kremlin’s effort to poison the relationship between Ukraine and its allies by suggesting that the continent doesn’t care about Ukrainian sovereignty, only about turning the country into cannon fodder. The story had no evidence behind it—no documents, no named officials, no specific mechanism by which Brussels could force Kyiv to change its call-up policy. But that never stops a good fake news operation, especially one designed to play on real anxieties inside Ukraine and across Europe about the grim mathematics of a long war.
The claim itself was almost comical in its transparency. According to the Russian intelligence agency, the European Commission was demanding that Kyiv start mobilising women, and Kallas was reportedly cheering the idea as “a step in the right direction.” No proof was offered. No leaked email, no intercepted phone call, no photograph of a diplomatic note. Just a whisper from a Kremlin outlet, repeated by loyal media, and then left to do its work. The point was not to convince anyone who thinks carefully about EU institutions; the point was to sow suspicion. Moscow has long tried to paint the European Union as a neo-imperial power that wants to subordinate Ukraine, and the mobilisation rumour fits neatly into that narrative. After all, what could be more inflammatory than the image of foreign officials coolly demanding that Ukrainian women be sent to the front? It also tries to drive a wedge between Ukrainian civilians and their own government, suggesting that the decisions being made in Kyiv are not really Ukrainian decisions at all. That is why Kubilius’s response mattered. He did not just dismiss the rumour; he pointed out how outlandish it was for anyone in Brussels to imagine that they could dictate Ukraine’s conscription policy. Europe can supply weapons, money, training and political support, but it cannot—and should not—tell a nation at war who must fight. His calm, almost incredulous tone was a welcome antidote to the Kremlin’s cynicism.
This exchange does not exist in a vacuum. Behind the specific falsehood lies a much more complicated and painful reality. Ukraine has been fighting a full-scale Russian invasion since February 2022, and the need for fresh troops has become one of the most sensitive and divisive issues in Ukrainian society. Mobilisation is a matter of national survival, but it is also a matter of deep trauma, grief and fear. Families have lost husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. Many soldiers have been fighting for years without the chance to rest. So when the conversation turns to expanding the draft, it is understandably emotional. Into that raw and complicated space, Russian propaganda constantly injects stories meant to create panic and resentment. One such story involves refugees. In March, for example, reports emerged that Germany had seen a sharp rise in the number of Ukrainian men among refugees over the past year. The figures raised uncomfortable questions about women and children fleeing while some men of fighting age chose to leave or stay abroad. The EU, for its part, has clarified that temporary protection for Ukrainians applies equally to all Ukrainians, with no exceptions for men of conscription age. On its face, that is a statement about legal rights—everyone who qualifies is protected, regardless of gender or military status. But the Russian fake news machinery is not interested in legal nuance. It takes these threads and weaves them into a larger story about hypocrisy: Europe, it suggests, is simultaneously sheltering Ukrainian men who do not want to fight, while also demanding that Ukrainian women be mobilised to replace them. The contradiction is deliberately ugly, and it is designed to make both Ukrainians and Europeans feel disgusted and angry.
Kubilius’s refusal to engage with that smearing narrative was significant for another reason. It hinted at the boundaries of the EU’s role in Ukraine’s war effort. Since the beginning of the invasion, the European Union has been one of Ukraine’s most steadfast partners. It has provided billions in financial aid, military assistance, humanitarian relief, and political backing. It has imposed successive sanctions packages on Russia. It has opened accession negotiations, a historic step that binds Ukraine’s future to the European project. But no matter how much support Brussels provides, it cannot fight the war for Ukrainians. It cannot make the hard decisions about who is fit to serve, which units need reinforcements, or how to rotate exhausted soldiers. Those decisions belong to Ukraine’s civil and military leadership, and to the Ukrainian people themselves. That is exactly why Kubilius’s words sounded so refreshing: they acknowledged, in a simple and human way, that Ukrainians are not anyone’s pawns. Europe can stand beside them, but it cannot start telling them what to do with their own young people. The fact that Kubilius felt the need to say this out loud is itself a sign of how corrosive Russian disinformation has become. It forces even reasonable officials to waste time denying claims that should have been laughed out of the room.
There is also a deeper gender dimension here that deserves attention. Ukraine has a long and proud tradition of women serving in its armed forces, and in the current war women have been indispensable as medics, drone operators, communications specialists, logistics officers and combat soldiers. Many ministries and volunteer organizations have encouraged women to join up, and thousands have done so with extraordinary bravery. That said, the idea of a broad mobilisation of all women is profoundly different from the reality of voluntary service. It touches on intimate questions of family, identity, and social roles. Russian propaganda knows this all too well. By inventing a story that Brussels is demanding the mobilisation of women, the Kremlin is trying to accomplish several things at once. It wants to portray Europe as heartless. It wants to make Ukrainian men feel emasculated and ashamed. It wants to make Ukrainian women feel that they are being sacrificed by foreign bureaucrats. And it wants to plant fear that the war will go on forever, consuming every household. The fact that Russian intelligence chose this particular lie also suggests a broader vulnerability. If the Kremlin is spending energy on a fake story about female conscription, it may be because the truth is less convenient. Ukraine is not running out of women. It is running out of time, resources, and patience, and it is desperate for more support from its allies. The disinformation is a weapon aimed at undermining that support, while also destabilising Ukrainian society from within.
Ultimately, this small episode is a reminder of what is at stake beyond the battlefield. Wars are not only fought with tanks, drones and missiles; they are also fought with words, images, and emotions. Russian intelligence clearly understands that the most powerful weapon is not always a bomb—it can be a rumour that spreads across borders before anyone has a chance to check it. For Ukrainians, already exhausted and grieving, such lies are cruel. For Europeans, they are a test of resolve: will we be prised apart from our Ukrainian friends by a ridiculous story? Kubilius did his part by brushing the claim aside with dignified common sense. But the rest of us also have a role. We can choose to be sceptical of information that aligns too perfectly with Kremlin interests. We can choose to remember that the EU is not trying to command Ukraine, but to support it as it defends its independence. And we can support those who do the thankless work of uncovering the truth, day after day, without knowing when the war will end. Independent journalism is one of the most valuable defences against the fog of disinformation. In a world where lies travel at the speed of a click, the slow and careful search for facts is an act of courage. That is why the work of Ukrainian reporters, who document the real, human cost of this war and hold power to account, deserves not just attention but also support. There will always be more fake news from the Kremlin. There will always be more attempts to turn grief into anger and confusion into fear. But stories like this one show that the truth, if spoken plainly and humanly, can still cut through the noise.
[Word count approximately 1700? Need check. Actually final may be less than 2000. Need expand each paragraph. Let’s ensure 2000. Current paragraph lengths maybe 300, 330, 350, 330, 380, 300 = 1990? Need count. Let’s count approximate. Paragraph 1: ~250? Let’s estimate. Need more detailed. We need 2000 exactly-ish. Let’s expand a bit. Since user asked 2000, we can add more context. Need maybe include “Advertisement” ignored. Could mention source European Pravda. Also “Kubilius was at press conference 11 September”. Need include. Need maybe add “conscription age men” in final. We’ll expand.
Let’s revise final to longer. Need perhaps 2000 words. Since no word count, only approximate. Let’s add paragraphs with more humanized detail. Need not 2000 actual maybe but around 2000. I can add several sentences: in p1, “When you have spent years watching Russian information operations, you learn…” etc. Need not be too repetitive. Let’s craft final with six paragraphs, each around 340-360 words. Need total 2000.
Let’s craft carefully. I’ll produce final in final. Need ensure not using bullet points, no title. Use “paragraphs” separated by blank lines. Let’s make each paragraph ~330 words. We can count: In a standard double-spaced page, 250 words. 2000 words = 8 pages, but as paragraphs 6, each ~333. Need final should be in 6 visible paragraphs. I’ll create.
Let’s craft each paragraph with word count mentally. Need maybe 340 each. Let’s do.
P1: “There is a familiar rhythm…” I can add sentence about “Kremlin has no monopoly on fake news, but it has perfected industrial-scale…” Expand.
P2: “The claim itself…” Add “Maybe they expected people to think: Where there is smoke…” etc.
P3: “This exchange does not exist…” Add “The war has created a deep rupture…” etc.
P4: “Kubilius’s refusal…” Add “He could have called a press conference…” etc.
P5: “There is also…” Add “Ukraine’s defenders are not abstractions…” etc.
P6: “Ultimately…” Add “Perhaps the most important sentence…” etc.
Let’s now write final in one response.
Need maybe “humanize” means no passive bureaucratic language. OK.
Let’sThere is a familiar rhythm to wartime disinformation: a false story is planted, a vague official statement is cited, and soon enough it is bouncing across social media, chat groups and even cable news. On Wednesday, 11 September, the European Union’s defence commissioner, Andrius Kubilius, was asked about one such story that had originated from Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service, or SVR. The claim was that Brussels had been pressing Kyiv to mobilise Ukrainian women, and that EU foreign policy chief Kaja Kallas had described such a step as moving in the right direction. Speaking at a press conference, as reported by European Pravda, Kubilius did not mince words. He said he had no information to support the claim, that it would be strange for Europe to try to convince Ukrainians how to run their own mobilisation, and that he was not surprised the lie had come from the Kremlin. It was a blunt, matter-of-fact rejection of an absurd rumour, yet it also captured something larger: the Kremlin’s effort to poison the relationship between Ukraine and its allies by suggesting that the continent does not care about Ukrainian sovereignty, only about turning the country into cannon fodder. The story had no evidence behind it—no documents, no named officials, no specific mechanism by which Brussels could force Kyiv to change its call-up policy. But that never stops a good fake news operation, especially one designed to play on real anxieties inside Ukraine and across Europe about the grim arithmetic of a long war. When you have spent years watching Russian information operations, you learn to recognise their signature: mix one small grain of reality with a mountain of accusation, aim it at the most painful fault line, and wait for the wound to inflame. This story was textbook Kremlin work, and Kubilius’s calm refusal to entertain it was quietly refreshing.
The claim itself was almost comical in its transparency. According to the Russian intelligence agency, the European Commission was demanding that Kyiv start mobilising women, and Kallas was reportedly cheering the idea as “a step in the right direction.” No proof was offered. No leaked email, no intercepted phone call, no photograph of a diplomatic note. Just a whisper from a Kremlin-linked outlet, repeated by loyal media, and then left to do its work. The point was not to convince anyone who thinks carefully about how EU institutions actually operate; the point was to sow suspicion. Moscow has long tried to paint the European Union as a neo-imperial power eager to subordinate Ukraine, and the mobilisation rumour fits neatly into that narrative. After all, what could be more inflammatory than the image of foreign officials coolly demanding that Ukrainian women be sent to the front? It also tries to drive a wedge between Ukrainian civilians and their own government, suggesting that decisions being made in Kyiv are not really Ukrainian decisions at all. Maybe the authors of the disinformation hoped that ordinary people would shrug and say: where there is smoke, there is fire. But there was no fire—only a deliberate attempt to manufacture confusion. That is why Kubilius’s response mattered. He did not just dismiss the rumour; he pointed out how outlandish it was for anyone in Brussels to imagine that they could dictate Ukraine’s conscription policy. Europe can supply weapons, money, training and political support, but it cannot—and should not—tell a nation at war who must fight. His almost incredulous tone was a welcome antidote to the Kremlin’s cynicism. It also served as a reminder that not every official in Brussels is lost in bureaucratic bubble wrap; some of them still know exactly how to speak like human beings when it matters.
This exchange does not exist in a vacuum. Behind the specific falsehood lies a much more complicated and painful reality. Ukraine has been fighting a full-scale Russian invasion since February 2022, and the need for fresh troops has become one of the most sensitive and divisive issues in Ukrainian society. Mobilisation is a matter of national survival, but it is also a matter of deep trauma, grief and fear. Families have lost husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. Many soldiers have been fighting for years without the chance to rest. So when the conversation turns to expanding the draft, it is understandably emotional. Into that raw and complicated space, Russian propaganda constantly injects stories meant to create panic and resentment. One such story involves refugees. In March, for example, reports emerged that Germany had seen a sharp rise in the number of Ukrainian men among refugees over the past year. The figures raised uncomfortable questions about women and children fleeing while some men of fighting age chose to leave or stay abroad. The EU, for its part, has clarified that temporary protection for Ukrainians applies equally to all Ukrainians, with no exceptions for men of conscription age. On its face, that is a statement about legal rights—everyone who qualifies is protected, regardless of gender or military status. But the Russian fake news machinery is not interested in legal nuance. It takes these threads and weaves them into a larger story about hypocrisy: Europe, it suggests, is simultaneously sheltering Ukrainian men who do not want to fight, while also demanding that Ukrainian women be mobilised to replace them. The contradiction is deliberately ugly, and it is designed to make both Ukrainians and Europeans feel disgusted and angry. It is a cruel trick, because it takes two very real anxieties—the fear of losing loved ones and the anger at those who seem to have escaped the fight—and twists them into a weapon against Ukraine’s trust in its allies.
Kubilius’s refusal to engage with that smearing narrative was significant for another reason. It hinted at the boundaries of the EU’s role in Ukraine’s war effort. Since the beginning of the invasion, the European Union has been one of Ukraine’s most steadfast partners. It has provided billions in financial aid, military assistance, humanitarian relief, and political backing. It has imposed successive sanctions packages on Russia. It has opened accession negotiations, a historic step that binds Ukraine’s future to the European project. But no matter how much support Brussels provides, it cannot fight the war for Ukrainians. It cannot make the hard decisions about who is fit to serve, which units need reinforcements, or how to rotate exhausted soldiers. Those decisions belong to Ukraine’s civil and military leadership, and to the Ukrainian people themselves. That is exactly why Kubilius’s words sounded so refreshing: they acknowledged, in a simple and human way, that Ukrainians are not anyone’s pawns. Europe can stand beside them, but it cannot start telling them what to do with their own young people. He could have tried to give a heavy diplomatic answer full of careful caveats. Instead, he said that it would be strange for Europe to try to convince Ukrainians how to make mobilisation work. That sentence should not have been radical, but in the current climate it felt like a small act of decency. It also revealed a quiet confidence: the EU knows that its strength lies in partnership, not in command. The fact that Kubilius felt the need to say this out loud is itself a sign of how corrosive Russian disinformation has become. It forces even reasonable officials to waste time denying claims that should have been laughed out of the room.
There is also a deeper gender dimension here that deserves attention. Ukraine has a long and proud tradition of women serving in its armed forces, and in the current war women have been indispensable as medics, drone operators, communications specialists, logistics officers and combat soldiers. Many ministries and volunteer organisations have encouraged women to join up, and thousands have done so with extraordinary bravery. That said, the idea of a broad mobilisation of all women is profoundly different from the reality of voluntary service. It touches on intimate questions of family, identity, and social roles. Russian propaganda knows this all too well. By inventing a story that Brussels is demanding the mobilisation of women, the Kremlin is trying to accomplish several things at once. It wants to portray Europe as heartless. It wants to make Ukrainian men feel ashamed or resentful. It wants to make Ukrainian women think that they are being sacrificed by foreign bureaucrats who have never heard a shell explode. And it wants to plant fear that the war will go on forever, consuming every household, every mother, every sister. The fact that Russian intelligence chose this particular lie also suggests a broader vulnerability. If the Kremlin is spending energy on a fake story about female conscription, it may be because the truth is less convenient. Ukraine is not running out of women. It is running out of time, resources, and patience, and it is desperate for more support from its allies. The disinformation is a weapon aimed at undermining that support, while also destabilising Ukrainian society from within. Behind the lie, however, there is also a deep well of respect. Ukrainian women have already proved that they will not wait for permission to defend what they love. They have been nurses in basements, snipers in forests, mothers shielding children during blackouts, and volunteers stitching bulletproof vests under the hum of generators. No foreign decree could make them braver, and no Kremlin lie could make them forget that this war was forced on them by Russia.
Ultimately, this small episode is a reminder of what is at stake beyond the battlefield. Wars are not only fought with tanks, drones and missiles; they are also fought with words, images, and emotions. Russian intelligence clearly understands that the most powerful weapon is not always a bomb—it can be a rumour that spreads across borders before anyone has a chance to check it. For Ukrainians, already exhausted and grieving, such lies are cruel. For Europeans, they are a test of resolve: will we be prised apart from our Ukrainian friends by a ridiculous story? Kubilius did his part by brushing the claim aside with dignified common sense. But the rest of us also have a role. We can choose to be sceptical of information that aligns too perfectly with Kremlin interests. We can choose to remember that the EU is not trying to command Ukraine, but to support it as it defends its independence. And we can support those who do the thankless work of uncovering the truth, day after day, without knowing when the war will end. Independent journalism is one of the most valuable defences against the fog of disinformation. In a world where lies travel at the speed of a click, the slow and careful search for facts is an act of courage. That is why the work of Ukrainian reporters, who document the real human cost of this war and hold power to account, deserves not just attention but also support. There will always be more fake news from the Kremlin. There will always be more attempts to turn grief into anger and confusion into fear. But stories like this one show that the truth, if spoken plainly and humanly, can still cut through the noise. It may sound old-fashioned, but in the end the most powerful answer to a lie is not a louder lie. It is just a calm person telling the truth, and being willing to say: that is strange, that is not who we are, and we refuse to be drawn into your dirty game.