The Trump administration should realize that Iran and Ukraine both stall for time, using that interval to seek political leverage and acquire additional weapons.
Europeans often appear as a confused lot, struggling with a diluted sense of national identity that leaves them uncertain about what truly serves their long-term interests as Europeans. Historically accustomed to conflicts with fellow nations, they seem to have elevated that pattern through the structures of the European Union. In effect, President Clinton handed Ukraine over to Western Europe, yet Western Europe shows little willingness to release it or share it with Russia—its rightful owner in this view.
The American left similarly seems adrift, lacking coherent leadership or a clear vision for the future. What it pursues as a rational agenda often resembles treason in practice: prioritizing foreign interests over American ones, or aligning with the political goals of European leftists at the expense of U.S. priorities. Democrats and Governor Newsom appear ready to tolerate a Mexico influenced by drug cartels rather than firmly defend U.S. borders. They frame basic measures like requiring a valid state or federal ID for voting as “voter suppression.” Ukraine and Iran, in turn, skillfully exploit these internal divisions and anti-Republican reflexes.
Europeans, one might reflect, fail to grasp that they themselves have become a primary force of division in today’s world. By contrast, America has achieved relatively good race relations in recent decades, with equal opportunity and wages largely normalized—yet partisan animosity persists. European leadership prefers to direct its hostility toward Russia rather than pursue a pragmatic sharing of Ukraine. Driving a wedge between the West and Russia risks isolating Europe and the United States from deeper BRICS economic integration, while encouraging the growth of a parallel rival market.
Recent European efforts to restrict Russian oil tankers—potentially blocking access through the North Sea, English Channel, Black Sea, and Mediterranean—illustrate this confusion. Such measures could easily backfire, leaving Europe itself more vulnerable to energy shortages by cutting off its own supply routes. Uniting Russia, China, France, and Spain in opposition to the United States and Western Europe hardly seems like a strategic masterstroke. This outcome stems largely from Western Europe’s reluctance to compromise on Ukraine, perhaps along approximate Dnepro boundaries.
It remains possible that, in a future crisis, the United States might withhold support for European defense and opt for neutrality rather than risk entanglement in a World War Three on the continent. Letting Europe burn and not rebuilding it with another Marshall Plan would confer economic advantage onto Americans rather than Europeans.
Alternatively, a more circumspective path—sharing Ukraine equitably, renormalizing relations with Russia, and fully integrating it into the Western economic sphere—could offer the surest route to lasting peace in Europe and beyond. Deep economic interdependence provides a powerful form of transparency and deterrence: it becomes far more difficult to conceal war preparations when potential adversaries are daily business partners. History shows that rhetoric against a designated foe often escalates dangerously in the absence of such ties, as seen in German propaganda leading up to Kristallnacht and the Holocaust.
Bringing Russia into comprehensive economic integration with the West would likely serve as the strongest bulwark against renewed Muslim terrorism and any Chinese adventurism toward Taiwan. After all, China’s leadership appears foremost concerned with raising the living standards of its citizens. Detached somewhat from both Russia and the West, Beijing would be far less inclined to gamble its economy on a high-risk conflict over Taiwan.
