Por Peter Bach
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Photograph by Nathaniel St. Clair |
Was it just me or was there nothing more weird than when the US over a year ago opened up direct US-Russian talks on Ukraine without even having Ukraine in the room? I keep coming back to that, especially after seeing Vance recently in Budapest.
Even with all this spiralling and insinuating madness in the Middle East, the thought is always there. Lest we forget, on February 18, 2025, the Trump administration agreed to continue talks with Russia on ending the war after an initial meeting in Riyadh that excluded Kyiv. Reuters described it as a departure from the previous US policy of isolating Putin and placing Ukraine at the centre.
And I still find myself wondering how you can talk about the fate of a country while it’s still burying its dead, still being bombed, without that country present? To this day, it feels like one of the clearest indicators of a Russia-first negotiating position.
Then there’s the rhetoric. On February 19, 2025, Trump called Zelenskyy a “dictator” and warned him to move fast or lose his country. I keep going back to that phrase—lose his country—as if that loss is theoretical, when in reality it has meant shattered cities, families displaced, terrified children, brave civilians living under sirens and missile fire.
Whether or not one agrees with Trump’s view, and people obviously can disagree, that rhetoric echoed Kremlin-style attacks on Ukrainian legitimacy a hell of a lot more than it resembled any kind of pressure on the aggressor state that invaded Ukraine.
The US also sided with a much more neutral line on Ukraine at the UN. On February 24, 2025, Reuters reported that the UN Security Council adopted a US resolution with Russia voting in favour after European efforts to add more pro-Ukraine language were blocked.
I don’t believe that would have been even imaginable a few years ago. When Moscow is comfortable voting for Washington’s Ukraine text, something has definitely shifted—something that, at the very least, sits uneasily against the backdrop of a war that is still killing civilians.
Then Trump cut military aid to Ukraine after the famous Oval Office blowup. Reuters reported that the US halted military aid to Kyiv in early March 2025. And again, I struggle with the asymmetry. Pressure was applied overwhelmingly against Ukraine while Russia continued its war. It is more than hard not to think about what that means in real terms—fewer air defences, more successful strikes, more lives at risk.
The administration also paused intelligence sharing with Ukraine. On March 5, 2025, Reuters reported that the US paused intelligence sharing and explicitly noted it could hurt Ukraine’s defence against missile strikes, reflecting a “more conciliatory approach to Moscow.” That’s not abstract. That’s the genuine difference between warning and no warning.
US agencies then halted parts of the effort to counter Russian sabotage, cyberattacks, and disinformation. Didn’t they? On March 19, 2025, Reuters reported that several national-security agencies had stepped back from coordinated efforts, thereby “easing pressure on Moscow.” That goes a long way beyond rhetoric. It’s a kind of tangible loosening—at a time when the war, and its ripple effects, hasn’t stopped.
The White House explored sanctions relief for Russia, including the ubiquitous oligarchs, instead of escalating costs. Reuters reported on March 3, 2025, that officials were asked to draft options for easing sanctions, and again in March 2026 that broader relief was under consideration. Easing pressure while bombs are still falling? What message does that send, not just to governments, but to people on the ground?
The administration also appears to have tied US security guarantees for Ukraine to territorial concessions. I have written about this here before. Reuters reported on March 25, 2026, citing Zelenskyy, that guarantees were offered if Ukraine handed over the Donbas. Even if framed as pragmatic peacemaking, it still means asking a country to give up land taken from it by force—land where people have lived, fled, or died.
On the Russia–Iran intelligence issue, the administration’s posture looked unusually trusting of Putin. After reports that Russia may have shared targeting information with Iran, envoy Steve Witkoff relayed Russia’s denial publicly following a Trump-Putin call. I can’t help but seriously pause on that, especially given how high the stakes are when multiple conflicts begin to overlap. Zelenskyy later accused Washington of ignoring evidence because it still trusted Putin. Okay, that may or may not be fair, but the perception itself is telling.
Then there was Vance in Budapest on April 8, 2026. He defended Orbán and criticised Zelenskyy, calling Zelenskyy’s remarks “scandalous,” during a visit meant to bolster one of Europe’s most Russia-friendly leaders. At the same time, reports were circulating about Hungary’s links with Moscow. The optics were… well, difficult to ignore. While Ukraine was still under attack, the US vice president was publicly siding against its leader in that context.
It’s not one smoking gun. It’s the pattern—the repeated asymmetry. Again and again, pressure seems to fall on Ukraine, while engagement, relief, or benefit of the doubt always seems to flow towards Russia. And all the while, the war continues—not as some dinky, abstract, geopolitical contest, but as something measured in lives lost, in families displaced, in civilians living under constant and unbearable threat.
Of course, there are counterarguments, and I find myself wanting to believe them. That this is negotiation, not alignment. That the US pressures Kyiv because it can, not because it prefers Russia. That ending the war quickly—even imperfectly—might save lives in the long run. That territorial concessions could be pragmatic, however painful. That there is no proof Trump wants Russia to win, only that he wants the war to end. That perhaps this is about shifting the burden to Europe.
I want those explanations to hold.
But I am afraid I keep coming back to the same difficulty: I don’t see any clear evidence of that broader strategy—only the immediate effects, and the people living through them.
Peter Bach lives in London.
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