- Geopolitical analyst Glenn Diesen decries the plan as a reckless bid to "confront Russia with tools Europeans don’t own, to train soldiers Ukraine doesn’t have."
- U.S. President Donald Trump shifts stance post-Alaska meeting with Putin, now favoring peace terms Russia-style deal.
- European leaders press for ceasefire as a precondition but lack leverage.
- Criticism mounts over a "strategy of futility" risking global escalation and economic ruin.
As European leaders convened in Washington on Monday, a stark paradox unfolded: Kyiv unveiled plans to secure a $100 billion weapons deal from Europe. The proposal, discussed at the White House amid a high-profile summit with seven EU leaders, envisions Ukraine purchasing advanced U.S. defense systems—including Patriot missiles—to counter Russia’s ongoing advances. A parallel $140 billion in direct aid to Ukraine since 2022, yet Kyiv’s territorial losses accelerate. “Putin doesn’t need nuclear weapons to win this—he already has debasement of the European economy,” said a Berlin-based defense analyst off the record.
A strategy rooted in historical miscalculations
To grasp Kyiv’s desperation, one must revisit 2014, when Western governments backed a coup that toppled a Moscow-friendly government. CIA intelligence at the time warned the move would inflame Russian fears of NATO encroachment—a prediction Russia smote by annexing Crimea. “There was no prior threat,” Glenn Diesen wrote, noting minimal pro-NATO sentiment in Ukraine pre-coup. “Europe’s push to militarize Ukraine’s borders provoked a foreseeable reaction.”
Today, as U.S. involvement wanes, Europeans find themselves footing a bill even Trump can’t stomach. The leaked document recognizes this imbalance, framing any peace deal without U.S. assurance as analogous to “handing Putin a fait accompli”—a nod to Moscow’s demand that Kyiv cede control of Donetsk and Luhansk as a “ceasefire prerequisite.” Yet skeptics like Diesen argue Kyiv’s strategy ignores how such concessions would catalyze further Russian aggression toward eastern hubs like Dnipro, sealing Ukraine’s annihilation.
Trump’s pivot and peace deadlocks
The week’s pivot hinged on Trump’s August 9 Alaska summit with Putin, where a defiant vow to “weaponize the seas” gave way to a softer stance. Returning, Trump endorsed a Russian-conceived “border freeze” proposal—even dropping demands for Putin’s indictment—that the EU now rejects as betraying Ukraine. German Chancellor Friedrich Merz bluntly urged Trump to demand an immediate ceasefire, asserting the talks had no “next steps” legitimacy without it.
Yet diplomatic fissures persist. Kyiv insists integration with NATO remains non-negotiable, while Moscow dismisses Trump’s new role, with state media mocking his nuclear deterrence threats as unserious. “They treat him like a local mayor, not a superpower leader,” noted one U.S. diplomat. This disconnect exposes a core flaw: the war has devolved into a Europe-underwritten death spiral with no plausible path to Kyiv’s greatest ambition—a reunited, militarily secure nation.
The stakes and the mismatched priorities
Beyond geopolitics looms financial calamity. Funding the war with $300 billion in Russian frozen assets for war reparations amplifies the rift, recalling Dieisen’s Twitter bleakness: “This madness will destroy Ukraine’s economy, Europe’s relevance—and risk nuclear escalation.”
Meanwhile, the human toll remains staggering. Over 1.5 million combat-age Ukrainian males have been casualties or displaced, forecasts suggest Kyiv’s population could fall by 50% in a decade. Yet the summit featured no serious discussion on humanitarian ceasefires for farming or medical supplies, focusing instead on drone factories and missile ranges.
The illusion of security
As the world watches, Ukraine’s policy architect of choice—a polarizing U.S. president flirting with shared agendas with Putin—underscores a disillusioned reality: the West’s Ukraine strategy is unraveling. “Republican donor circles are hemorrhaging patience,” said a Capitol Hill insider, noting that even hawkish senators like Lindsey Graham increasingly question Kyiv’s viability.
Glenn Dieisen’s caustic remark—“This war is a proxy the West has already lost”—will resonate as Europe’s leaders chase military solutions to a crisis rooted in political and economic failure. Until the alliance confronts the costs of its recklessness—the trillions spent, the destroyed generation, the escalating risks—a sustainable peace remains distant. As Kyiv’s summit unfolded, one question rang quietly, but urgently: How much worse must the slaughter get before “victory” is redefined as merely surviving?
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