PRINCETON – Russia’s war on Ukraine is an outrage that needs to end. But how? Given the military near-stalemate, it is natural for all parties to search for political solutions. But judging by the Trump administration’s latest peace plan – which has all the hallmarks of a Kremlin-drafted document – the dice in this political game have been loaded wholly in favor of the aggressor.
The Trump administration’s initial and flawed 28-point plan came after four separate developments that each reached a tipping point. The first was reports of corruption at the center of Ukraine’s political establishment. Emanating from Ukrainian anti-corruption agencies, the accusations were used in a broader attempt to discredit Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s leadership and promote regime change.
Second, Russia has been escalating its wild threats of nuclear attacks on the West, including testing weapons that could supposedly direct radioactive tsunamis against the United Kingdom and other northern European countries with low-lying coasts. The Burevestnik nuclear-powered cruise missile, the Kremlin claims, cannot be stopped by any air-defense system. The point of such rhetoric is to deter Europeans from increasing their military support for Ukraine.
Third, anti-establishment populist parties in Europe – and voices across the US political spectrum – have put ending the war near the top of their agendas. Moreover, they are campaigning at a time when the French, German, and British governments look fragile, inept, and bereft of ideas about how to restart their faltering economies, catch up in the technology race, and reintegrate their polarized, divided societies. Pundits are already proclaiming a new politics and predicting a world in which Marine Le Pen’s far-right National Rally, the Alternative for Germany, and Nigel Farage’s Reform UK come to power in France, Germany, and Britain, respectively.
Finally, the Trump administration has been spreading disinformation about Europe and its politics. For example, Trump has repeatedly claimed that the European Union is undermining sanctions by purchasing Russian oil. In fact, these purchases are now confined to two countries – Hungary and Slovakia – connected to the southern branch of the Druzhba pipeline. The Czech Republic, previously dependent on Russian supplies, completed its transition to non-Russian hydrocarbons delivered through the Transalpine Pipeline earlier this year. The main culprit is Hungary, whose pro-Kremlin government explicitly asked Trump for permission to keep buying Russian energy, which he happily granted.
At the core of the latest US peace proposal is a misleading narrative, advanced by some foreign-policy analysts (including the late George Kennan), that describes NATO as a threat to Russia, and Western security guarantees for Russia’s neighbors as an infringement on Russian sovereignty. NATO’s commitment to enlarge eastward in the 1990s supposedly provided the dynamite that blew up the international order in the 21st century, propelling Russia into a defensive war in 2014, which it then expanded in 2022.
Of course, this narrative conveniently ignores the fact that Russian pushback against NATO started not in the 1990s or the early 2000s, but at a particular moment when it looked as if the West was disintegrating: the aftermath of the 2007-8 financial crisis. Only then did the NATO argument become a wedge to split apart the Western alliance.
Those who believe that NATO expansion caused Russia’s aggression in Ukraine have bought the Kremlin’s argument about a supposed NATO threat, while ignoring the real threat to its power: successful pro-democracy or anti-authoritarian movements. The Kremlin relies on the 19th-century values of orthodoxy, autocracy, and nationality. Viewed in these terms, its sovereignty and right of self-determination become a right to suppress self-determination elsewhere.
Given these dynamics, could the conflict be frozen? An effective ceasefire would provide an opportunity to rebuild lives, restore vital infrastructure, and pursue economic reconstruction and development. But if this outcome follows from Russia’s drive for a political solution, the implications for Ukraine, Europe, and the world will be dire. Even the revised Trump plan that leaves unanswered the question of firm NATO-like security guarantees (rather than vague promises of consultations in the case of new Russian attacks) is profoundly dangerous.
From the Ukrainian perspective, the Trump plan amounted to a classic “stab in the back.” Although Ukrainian forces have not been defeated on the battlefield, Ukraine would be vanquished in the war. Ukrainians would inevitably start asking who is responsible, and this would destroy any hope of maintaining a consensual political system, leaving the country ripe for a lurch back to autocracy.
The original Trump plan would also discredit and weaken Europe, its institutions, and its worldview. The European Union would be cast as a paper tiger – a political player with big words and big ideas, but neither the will nor the power to put them into practice. Faced with such a verdict, European politicians would be more likely to surrender to those on the far right (and left) pushing a more nostalgic version of national sovereignty.
But in many cases, particularly in the two countries that drove the European project through most of the postwar period, Germany and France, this would be a dangerous shift. At best, these governments would be reviving the Nazi collaborator Marshal Philippe Pétain’s claim to be France’s shield against dangerous times; at worst, the shift toward a pre-EU conception of sovereignty could involve a return to German claims of superiority over its neighbors.
As for the rest of the world, America’s extraordinary embrace of the Russian view of history signals the definitive decline of US power or influence in the world. The message is simple and unmistakable: Now that it stands for nothing, America can easily be bought.
PRINCETON – Russia’s war on Ukraine is an outrage that needs to end. But how? Given the military near-stalemate, it is natural for all parties to search for political solutions. But judging by the Trump administration’s latest peace plan – which has all the hallmarks of a Kremlin-drafted document – the dice in this political game have been loaded wholly in favor of the aggressor.
The Trump administration’s initial and flawed 28-point plan came after four separate developments that each reached a tipping point. The first was reports of corruption at the center of Ukraine’s political establishment. Emanating from Ukrainian anti-corruption agencies, the accusations were used in a broader attempt to discredit Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s leadership and promote regime change.
Second, Russia has been escalating its wild threats of nuclear attacks on the West, including testing weapons that could supposedly direct radioactive tsunamis against the United Kingdom and other northern European countries with low-lying coasts. The Burevestnik nuclear-powered cruise missile, the Kremlin claims, cannot be stopped by any air-defense system. The point of such rhetoric is to deter Europeans from increasing their military support for Ukraine.
Third, anti-establishment populist parties in Europe – and voices across the US political spectrum – have put ending the war near the top of their agendas. Moreover, they are campaigning at a time when the French, German, and British governments look fragile, inept, and bereft of ideas about how to restart their faltering economies, catch up in the technology race, and reintegrate their polarized, divided societies. Pundits are already proclaiming a new politics and predicting a world in which Marine Le Pen’s far-right National Rally, the Alternative for Germany, and Nigel Farage’s Reform UK come to power in France, Germany, and Britain, respectively.
Finally, the Trump administration has been spreading disinformation about Europe and its politics. For example, Trump has repeatedly claimed that the European Union is undermining sanctions by purchasing Russian oil. In fact, these purchases are now confined to two countries – Hungary and Slovakia – connected to the southern branch of the Druzhba pipeline. The Czech Republic, previously dependent on Russian supplies, completed its transition to non-Russian hydrocarbons delivered through the Transalpine Pipeline earlier this year. The main culprit is Hungary, whose pro-Kremlin government explicitly asked Trump for permission to keep buying Russian energy, which he happily granted.
At the core of the latest US peace proposal is a misleading narrative, advanced by some foreign-policy analysts (including the late George Kennan), that describes NATO as a threat to Russia, and Western security guarantees for Russia’s neighbors as an infringement on Russian sovereignty. NATO’s commitment to enlarge eastward in the 1990s supposedly provided the dynamite that blew up the international order in the 21st century, propelling Russia into a defensive war in 2014, which it then expanded in 2022.
Of course, this narrative conveniently ignores the fact that Russian pushback against NATO started not in the 1990s or the early 2000s, but at a particular moment when it looked as if the West was disintegrating: the aftermath of the 2007-8 financial crisis. Only then did the NATO argument become a wedge to split apart the Western alliance.
Those who believe that NATO expansion caused Russia’s aggression in Ukraine have bought the Kremlin’s argument about a supposed NATO threat, while ignoring the real threat to its power: successful pro-democracy or anti-authoritarian movements. The Kremlin relies on the 19th-century values of orthodoxy, autocracy, and nationality. Viewed in these terms, its sovereignty and right of self-determination become a right to suppress self-determination elsewhere.
Given these dynamics, could the conflict be frozen? An effective ceasefire would provide an opportunity to rebuild lives, restore vital infrastructure, and pursue economic reconstruction and development. But if this outcome follows from Russia’s drive for a political solution, the implications for Ukraine, Europe, and the world will be dire. Even the revised Trump plan that leaves unanswered the question of firm NATO-like security guarantees (rather than vague promises of consultations in the case of new Russian attacks) is profoundly dangerous.
From the Ukrainian perspective, the Trump plan amounted to a classic “stab in the back.” Although Ukrainian forces have not been defeated on the battlefield, Ukraine would be vanquished in the war. Ukrainians would inevitably start asking who is responsible, and this would destroy any hope of maintaining a consensual political system, leaving the country ripe for a lurch back to autocracy.
The original Trump plan would also discredit and weaken Europe, its institutions, and its worldview. The European Union would be cast as a paper tiger – a political player with big words and big ideas, but neither the will nor the power to put them into practice. Faced with such a verdict, European politicians would be more likely to surrender to those on the far right (and left) pushing a more nostalgic version of national sovereignty.
But in many cases, particularly in the two countries that drove the European project through most of the postwar period, Germany and France, this would be a dangerous shift. At best, these governments would be reviving the Nazi collaborator Marshal Philippe Pétain’s claim to be France’s shield against dangerous times; at worst, the shift toward a pre-EU conception of sovereignty could involve a return to German claims of superiority over its neighbors.
As for the rest of the world, America’s extraordinary embrace of the Russian view of history signals the definitive decline of US power or influence in the world. The message is simple and unmistakable: Now that it stands for nothing, America can easily be bought.