"And Yet the Hazel Grows Green"

Think about this: the leader of a country—a permanent member of the United Nations Security Council—announces with pride the combat testing of an intercontinental ballistic missile, targeting a peaceful city in a neighboring nation he unprovokedly invaded. This, right here, tells you everything you need to know about the modern geopolitical landscape.

The member of the Security Council? Russia.

The leader? Putin.

The missile? Hazel.

Putin savors the name Oreshnik—Hazel—like a sadist caressing a weapon before a kill. The message is chillingly clear: “There is no defense against my Hazel. Ukraine is mine. Surrender it, or you all die.” And as Putin basks in his twisted sense of dominance, Europe’s so-called leaders scramble for ways to avoid “escalation.” Scholz might as well be heading underground to dodge accountability, hoping that quiet diplomacy will suffice.

But here’s the stark contrast: Ukrainians aren’t hiding. After nearly 1,000 days of war, their courage has only hardened. While missiles like Hazel rain down, Ukrainians stand firm, driven by a simple truth: the time will come when their hazel trees turn green, flourishing as symbols of resilience and victory.

The hazel tree holds poetic weight. Georges Simenon, better known for his Commissaire Maigret mysteries, wrote a novel titled "And Yet the Hazel Grows Green". The sentiment echoes a universal metaphor for human endurance. Even in the bleakest winters, the hazel survives. Even under unimaginable pressure, life persists.

For Putin, Hazel represents his decaying military machine—a blunt instrument of destruction, wielded by a despot desperate to cling to relevance. For Ukraine, the greening of the hazel will be a sign of freedom’s triumph over tyranny.

Freedom is our religion. Resilience is our creed.

And yet, the hazel grows green.

Glory to Ukraine!