When Washington Plays with Fire: Russia Sends a Chilling Message to the United States

A Telling Presidential Silence

Vladimir Putin’s lack of reaction to Maduro’s capture is one of the most revealing aspects of this crisis. While the Russian president never misses an opportunity to denounce American imperialism and defend his allies, his silence on the Venezuelan affair speaks volumes about the current limits of Russian power. As of 3:00 p.m. Eastern Time on January 5, Putin had made no public statement regarding the U.S. operation, leaving the Foreign Ministry and the Russian ambassador to the UN to shoulder the burden of diplomatic condemnation alone. This restraint stands in stark contrast to the Kremlin’s usual rhetoric and suggests that Moscow was caught off guard, unable to formulate a coherent response to a situation that cruelly exposes its strategic weaknesses. Pro-Kremlin analysts interviewed by the newspaper Kommersant attempted to downplay Venezuela’s importance to Russia, asserting that the battles that are truly critical for Russia are taking place far from the Latin American coast and that Moscow cannot afford to squander its limited resources defending a secondary ally.

This cynical analysis reflects a brutal geopolitical reality: Russia no longer has the means to project its power beyond its immediate neighborhood. The conflict in Ukraine is tying up the bulk of Russia’s military capabilities, with considerable human and material losses. According to data from the Ukrainian Ministry of Defense, Russia suffered 416,570 casualties in 2025—approximately 78 casualties per square kilometer gained. Military analyst Michael Kofman estimates that more than 90 percent of the contract soldiers Russia recruits each month are used solely to make up for losses, meaning that Moscow can no longer increase the size of its forces as it did the previous year. This human toll, combined with Western economic sanctions and the drop in oil revenues due to Ukrainian strikes on Russian refineries, severely limits the Kremlin’s room to maneuver. Russia can still issue verbal threats and issue diplomatic condemnations, but it can no longer take military action outside its main theater of operations.

The Limits of Russian Influence in Latin America

The collapse of the Maduro regime also reveals the limits of Russian influence in Latin America. For years, Moscow has invested billions of dollars in Venezuela, providing weapons, technical support, military advisers, and a diplomatic umbrella at the UN. Russia had even considered establishing a permanent naval base in Venezuela, a project that never materialized due to logistical and financial difficulties. All of this investment evaporated in a matter of hours during the U.S. operation on January 3. China, another major supporter of Chavism with even more massive investments in Venezuela’s oil sector, was also unable to protect its ally. The Chinese Special Representative for Latin America, Qiu Xiaoqi, had met with Maduro in Caracas just a few hours before the U.S. attack, suggesting that Beijing had no prior information about the impending operation. China’s condemnation of the U.S. aggression, though strongly worded, was not followed by any concrete action.

Russian experts interviewed by state media attempted to cast this debacle in a positive light. Dmitry Rosenthal, director of the Institute of Latin American Studies at the Russian Academy of Sciences, asserted that Trump needed to mobilize his electorate and secure the support of the Venezuelan and Cuban diasporas, suggesting that the operation was primarily motivated by U.S. domestic politics. Fyodor Lukyanov, editor-in-chief of the journal Russia in World Affairs, interpreted the event as evidence that the Monroe Doctrine had once again become a guiding principle for Trump, and that the overthrow of Maduro was intended to show all of Latin America who is in charge in the region. Maksim Suchkov, director of the Institute of International Studies at MGIMO, described the operation as risky but not adventurist, asserting that Washington had first cut off all external support for Maduro by pushing negotiations with Russia on Ukraine into a decisive phase and by conducting intensive confidential negotiations with China to mark out a U.S. sphere of influence. All these analysts reach the same conclusion: spheres of influence are back, and in this new, cynical multipolar world, each great power must focus on its own domain without interfering in that of others.

This Russian impotence deeply troubles me. Not out of sympathy for the Kremlin—far from it. But because it reveals just how precarious the global balance has become. A weakened, humiliated Russia, cornered in its own neighborhood, is a potentially more dangerous Russia, not a less dangerous one. History teaches us that declining powers are often the most unpredictable, the most likely to take reckless risks to prove they still matter. Putin has built his entire power on the image of a strong, respected, and feared Russia. What happens when that image cracks? When the whole world sees that the emperor has no clothes—that Russia can no longer even protect its closest allies? I fear we may find out soon, and that the answer will not be reassuring.

Fiona Hill’s Revelations and the Exchange Hypothesis

Fiona Hill’s 2019 testimony before the U.S. Congress now takes on a prophetic dimension. Trump’s former Russia advisor had revealed that Moscow was sending very strong signals that it wanted, one way or another, to strike a strange exchange deal between Venezuela and Ukraine. In other words, the United States could have Venezuela if Russia were to get Ukraine. At the time, this statement was met with skepticism and dismissed as baseless speculation. Today, following the U.S. operation in Venezuela and Putin’s deafening silence, this hypothesis no longer seems so far-fetched. Several analysts, including Brynn Tannehill in The New Republic, argue that the invasion of Venezuela signals the beginning of a division of the world into spheres of influence led by dictatorships—namely, the United States, Russia, and China—each seeking to accumulate wealth, build buffer zones around its empires, and secure its own backyard.

The peace negotiations on Ukraine, taking place in parallel with the Venezuelan crisis, seem to confirm this logic of exchange. According to The New York Times, during a meeting in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, on March 11, 2025, Secretary of State Marco Rubio spread a large map of Ukraine on a table and handed a dark blue marker to Ukrainian Defense Minister Rustem Umerov, saying, “Start drawing.” Umerov traced Ukraine’s northern border with Russia and Belarus, then followed the line of contact through the oblasts of Kharkiv, Luhansk, Donetsk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson, before circling the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant. A U.S. official described this moment as the decisive breakthrough—the first time Zelensky, through his aides, had indicated he was willing to cede 20 percent of his country to achieve peace. The Ukrainians, according to Trump’s advisers, were now “in the box”—that is, ready to accept U.S. terms.

The Terms of the Territorial Bargain

The U.S. peace plan for Ukraine, as it is taking shape through leaks and official statements, rests on several pillars. First, Ukraine would have to agree to cede the territory it still controls in the Donbas—approximately 11 percent of the region, according to an analysis by Graham Allison of Harvard University. In exchange, Russia would withdraw from the areas it occupies in the Kharkiv, Sumy, and Dnipropetrovsk oblasts—approximately 500 square kilometers. Second, a demilitarized zone would be established along the line of contact, monitored by international forces whose composition has yet to be defined. Third, Ukraine would receive security guarantees similar to NATO’s Article 5, meaning that any new Russian aggression would trigger a coordinated military response from the guarantors. These guarantees would be ratified by the U.S. Senate and would become legally binding. Fourth, Ukraine would maintain a peacetime army of 800,000 soldiers, funded by Western partners, while Russia would face no limits on the size of its armed forces.

This plan raises numerous questions and criticisms. Samuel Charap and Jennifer Kavanagh, in an op-ed in the Washington Post, warn that Article 5-style guarantees for Ukraine promise too much, pointing out that three successive presidents—Barack Obama, Joe Biden, and Donald Trump, have refused to send American troops to defend Ukraine—a clear indication that they view U.S. interests as too insignificant to justify the costs and risks of a war with the country that possesses the world’s largest nuclear arsenal. If Putin perceives these commitments as an American bluff, he might decide to test them, which would place the United States before an impossible choice: either go to war with Russia, with the risk of nuclear escalation, or renege on its commitments and permanently destroy its credibility. The Wall Street Journal editorial also points out that these guarantees would be considered null and void if Ukraine invaded Russia or opened fire on Russian territory without provocation—a clause that Moscow could easily exploit through false-flag operations.

I read these peace plans and I want to scream. Not because they’re bad in and of themselves, but because they reduce human lives—collective destinies—to lines on a map. Twenty percent of Ukrainian territory—it sounds abstract, almost reasonable, in an air-conditioned negotiating room in Washington or Moscow. But what does twenty percent actually mean? It means millions of people who will have to choose between fleeing their homes or living under Russian occupation. It means entire cities wiped off the map of Ukraine. It means torn families, erased histories, and futures cut short. And all for what? So that Trump can declare victory, Putin can save face, and Europeans can go back to business as usual? This realpolitik disgusts me, even though I understand its relentless logic.

The End of the Rules-Based System

The U.S. intervention in Venezuela potentially marks the end of the rules-based international order established after 1945. That order, however imperfect it may have been, was founded on the fundamental principle enshrined in the United Nations Charter: the prohibition of the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state. By invading Venezuela, capturing its president, and forcibly transferring him to the United States without authorization from the UN Security Council, Washington has flagrantly violated this principle. Economist and public policy analyst Jeffrey Sachs stated that the Security Council should prevent the collapse of international law, noting that the UN Charter explicitly prohibits this type of action. But the Security Council, paralyzed by vetoes from the permanent members, is unable to act. Russia requested an emergency meeting of the Council, but that meeting resulted only in verbal condemnations with no practical consequences.

Fareed Zakaria, in an op-ed in the Washington Post, argues that Ukraine’s fate in 2026 will define the international order, describing it as a referendum on the return of territorial conquest—openly and unapologetically—to 21st-century geopolitics. If Russia’s territorial conquests are ratified after sufficient destruction has taken place, the rules-based international order will not be abolished by rhetoric but will be hollowed out by the precedent. Conversely, if Ukraine secures a truly defensible settlement, the West will have demonstrated that deterrence is still possible. Zakaria concludes that the tragedy is not choosing between peace and war, but between a peace that prevents the next war and a peace that paves the way for it. Michael Hirsh, writing in Foreign Policy, goes further by asserting that Trump may have torn apart what remains of international norms and paved the way for new acts of aggression by America’s rivals, China and Russia. If the United States claims the right to use military force to capture foreign leaders, what prevents China from asserting the same authority over Taiwan, or Putin over Ukraine?

The Return of Spheres of Influence

The concept of spheres of influence, which was thought to have been consigned to the history books after the end of the Cold War, is making a strong comeback. Alexei Naumov, an expert at the Russian International Affairs Council, interprets recent events as evidence that spheres of influence are once again becoming a relevant part of international relations. According to this view, the world is divided into zones under the exclusive control of the major powers: the Western Hemisphere for the United States, the post-Soviet space for Russia, and East Asia for China. Each power tacitly agrees not to interfere in the others’ spheres, creating a cynical multipolarity in which small countries become pawns in a grand geopolitical game. This logic explains why Russia did not react more forcefully to U.S. intervention in Venezuela: Moscow reportedly agreed to sacrifice its Latin American ally in exchange for a free hand in Ukraine and its immediate neighborhood.

This new global architecture deeply worries medium-sized countries that cannot count on the protection of a major power. The Baltic states, Poland, and Romania are watching the negotiations on Ukraine with anxiety, fearing they will be next on the list of negotiable territories. German Chancellor Friedrich Merz stated that Germany was prepared to deploy forces to NATO territory adjacent to Ukraine following a ceasefire, a statement that reflects European nervousness over a possible U.S. withdrawal. Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk warned that Europe would face collapse if it stopped rearming, explicitly referring to the U.S. strike on Venezuela and Trump’s statements on Greenland. This European panic is justified: if the United States can invade Venezuela without consequences, if Russia can conquer 20 percent of Ukraine and see those gains legitimized by a peace agreement, then no medium-sized country is safe. International law, already weakened, is becoming a fiction that the powerful invoke when it suits them and ignore when it inconveniences them.

We are witnessing the death of something important. Not the death of a perfect system—far from it. International law has always been applied selectively; the great powers have always found ways to circumvent the rules. But there was at least a facade—a necessary hypocrisy that forced states to justify their actions and seek even a semblance of legal legitimacy. This hypocrisy was valuable because it upheld the idea that there were limits, lines that must not be crossed. Today, those lines are fading away. Trump no longer even pretends to respect international law. Neither does Putin. Xi Jinping is watching and taking notes. And we, the ordinary citizens of the world, watch this spectacle with a mixture of fascination and horror, knowing that when giants fight, it is the ants that get crushed.

The Military Situation on the Ground

The war in Ukraine is entering its fourth year with no clear end in sight. According to the Institute for the Study of War, Russian forces seized 4,831 square kilometers in Ukraine and recaptured approximately 473 square kilometers in the Kursk Oblast in 2025, representing about 0.8 percent of Ukrainian territory. These territorial gains came at a high cost: based on data from the Ukrainian General Staff, Russia suffered 416,570 casualties in 2025—about 78 casualties per square kilometer gained—with an average advance of 13.24 square kilometers per day. At the tactical level, Russia abandoned highly attritional infantry assaults beginning in June 2025 in favor of infiltration tactics and flag-planting to claim gains, sometimes falsely. This shift increased the apparent rate of advance but did not alter the underlying pattern of high casualties for relatively small territorial gains.

Military analyst Michael Kofman believes the situation on the front lines is not so critical that Ukraine must accept just any terms, noting that European leaders have announced they have found a way to fund Ukraine’s needs for the next two years and that Russia will fight for a long time to secure, without a fight, the part of the Donetsk Oblast it wants under its own peace terms. Kofman notes that even after a withdrawal from Pokrovsk, he does not see much chance of a Russian breakthrough or a collapse of the front line, adding that the situation looked worse in the fall of 2024. However, he also warns that if current trends continue, Russia will face difficulties manning its units and maintaining its workforce next year, raising the question of whether Moscow is capable of fighting at this intensity—with these losses—for another 12 months.

The Campaign of Strikes Against Infrastructure

Russia has intensified its campaign of strikes against Ukrainian energy infrastructure, shifting tactics this winter to target the country’s approximately 3,500 substations rather than the power plants themselves. The attacks are concentrated on major cities such as Kyiv and Odesa, causing prolonged outages that can last up to four days. According to Ukrainian energy consultant Oleksandr Kharchenko, Ukraine’s available generation capacity has fallen from 33.7 gigawatts at the start of the full-scale invasion to about 14 gigawatts today. If the next two months are very cold, national demand could reach 17 gigawatts—about 3 gigawatts more than the system can produce. DTEK CEO Maxim Timchenko says that Russia is hitting us harder than at any time since the full-scale invasion began, adding that even with thousands of repair crews working at full capacity, the extent of the destruction is too great to restore everything.

This campaign of energy terror aims to break the morale of the Ukrainian population and force Kyiv to accept Russia’s terms for peace. Residents in affected areas have stockpiled portable batteries and generators to survive prolonged outages. In high-rise buildings, heat supply depends on electric pumps, forcing residents to band together to purchase communal generators. The attacks on Odessa have been particularly devastating: on December 11, Russia launched an unprecedented blitz with 300 drones, bombs, and missiles, leaving the region without electricity, water, or heat. Odessa, which handled about 60 percent of Ukraine’s exports before the war—a share that rose to 60–70 percent after the Black Sea corridor reopened in 2023—now sees its ports operating at only 30–35 percent of demand. This economic stranglehold is part of Russia’s strategy to render Ukraine unviable as an independent state.

These figures haunt me. Not the military statistics, however terrible they may be. No, what haunts me are the four days without electricity, the families huddling around a shared generator, the children doing their homework by candlelight, the elderly dying of cold in their apartments. Modern warfare has this horrific characteristic: it kills as much through deprivation as through explosions. Cutting off electricity in the middle of winter is a weapon as deadly as a missile, but more insidious, perhaps more cruel because it prolongs the agony. And meanwhile, in Moscow and Washington, men in suits discuss percentages of territory, security guarantees, and demilitarized zones, as if these abstractions could compensate for the very real suffering of millions of people.

A major sticking point in the negotiations

The Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant—the largest in Europe, with six reactors and a capacity of six gigawatts capable of powering a medium-sized country like Portugal—has become one of the main sticking points in the peace negotiations. Occupied by Russian forces since the start of the war, the plant is currently shut down but remains at risk due to shelling that regularly cuts off the high-voltage power lines needed for cooling, forcing the use of backup diesel generators. Since the explosion of the Kakhovka Dam in 2023, the plant has relied on a smaller cooling pond and wells—a precarious situation that has raised concerns at the International Atomic Energy Agency. For Ukraine, Zaporizhzhia is central to energy sovereignty and postwar reconstruction: before the war, it supplied about a quarter of the country’s electricity needs, and the Kyiv-Washington peace plan envisions using its output for energy-intensive infrastructure such as data centers as part of Ukraine’s recovery.

Competing control schemes highlight the complexity of the issue. An earlier U.S.-Russian proposal suggested IAEA oversight with shared production. The latest U.S. proposal calls for tripartite operation by the United States, Russia, and Ukraine, with the Americans acting as chief manager—a plan Zelensky categorically rejects, asking: How can there be joint commercial activity with the Russians after everything that has happened? The Ukrainian president instead favors a U.S.-Ukrainian joint venture that would give Ukraine 50 percent of the electricity and let Washington decide how to allocate the rest—including potential transfers to Russia—a compromise that Moscow is unlikely to accept. This impasse illustrates a broader problem: how to share resources and infrastructure amid total mistrust and persistent hostility?

The Risks of a Nuclear Accident

The situation in Zaporizhzhia poses a constant nuclear risk that could have catastrophic consequences for all of Europe. Repeated shelling has damaged cooling systems and power lines, forcing plant staff to operate under extremely dangerous conditions. The IAEA has maintained a permanent presence on the site since September 2022, but its inspectors have limited access and cannot prevent military actions that endanger the plant. IAEA Director General Rafael Grossi has repeatedly warned that the situation is untenable and that a major accident remains possible as long as fighting continues nearby. A worst-case scenario would involve a total loss of cooling leading to a core meltdown, similar to what happened in Fukushima in 2011, with radioactive fallout that could contaminate vast areas of Ukraine, Russia, and potentially other European countries, depending on wind direction.

This nuclear threat adds another layer of pressure on negotiators to reach an agreement. However, it also complicates the talks, as neither side wants to relinquish control of such a strategic asset. Russia views Zaporizhzhia as a bargaining chip and a potential source of future revenue. Ukraine views the plant as essential to its reconstruction and refuses to share it with the occupying force. The United States, which is positioning itself as a mediator, has its own interests: controlling Zaporizhzhia would give it considerable influence over the region’s energy supply and strengthen its role as guarantor of any peace agreement. This complex three-way dynamic, in which each party has conflicting interests, makes it extremely difficult to reach a solution acceptable to all. In the meantime, the plant remains a potential flashpoint that could trigger a new escalation at any moment.

Zaporizhzhia terrifies me in a visceral way that few other aspects of this war manage to evoke. Perhaps because the nuclear danger transcends borders, nationalities, and political allegiances. An accident at Zaporizhzhia would make no distinction between Russians and Ukrainians, between Putin’s supporters and opponents, between civilians and military personnel. The radioactive cloud would pay no heed to our front lines or our demilitarized zones. And yet, we continue to play with fire, using a nuclear power plant as a pawn in a geopolitical game, risking a catastrophe that could render part of Europe uninhabitable for generations. This madness is beyond my comprehension. I cannot find the words to express the absurdity of the situation, the sense of vertigo I feel in the face of such collective irresponsibility.

A Divided and Anxious Europe

Europe finds itself in an extremely uncomfortable position, caught between the conflicting demands of Washington and Moscow. European leaders have reacted cautiously to U.S. intervention in Venezuela, aware that any overly harsh criticism could jeopardize U.S. support for Ukraine. The EU’s High Representative for Foreign Affairs, Kaja Kallas, reiterated that Maduro lacks legitimacy but insisted that the principles of international law and the UN Charter must be respected—a diplomatic formulation that avoids explicitly condemning U.S. action while highlighting the legal norms that have been violated. Spain offered to mediate toward a democratic, negotiated, and peaceful solution, while British Prime Minister Keir Starmer stated that the United Kingdom would shed no tears for Maduro but wanted to establish the facts and seek a peaceful transition. These measured reactions reflect Europe’s dependence on the United States for defense and its fear of finding itself isolated in the face of Russia.

This dependence became even more evident at the Paris summit on January 6, 2026, where the United States and Europe attempted to finalize an agreement on security guarantees for Ukraine. According to Bloomberg, Ukraine’s allies will push for Russian participation after a security agreement has been reached with the United States—a sequence that places Washington firmly in control of the process. The Paris Declaration, released following the summit, states that ensuring Ukraine’s future security may include military capabilities, intelligence and logistical support, diplomatic initiatives, and the adoption of additional sanctions. The document also specifies that coordinated military planning has been carried out to prepare reassurance measures in the air, at sea, and on land, as well as for the rebuilding of the Ukrainian armed forces. However, the declaration remains vague on concrete details and binding commitments, fueling doubts about Europe’s genuine willingness to defend Ukraine in the event of further Russian aggression.

European Funding and Its Limits

The European Union has announced a two-year funding package of 105 billion euros for Ukraine, a substantial sum intended to offset the uncertainty surrounding U.S. support under Trump. Holman W. Jenkins Jr., writing in the Wall Street Journal, asserts that this funding dispels uncertainty about Ukraine’s resilience and upends the optimistic timeline Vladimir Putin had in mind, marking a hesitant but real step toward Europe’s strategic maturity. However, this funding remains insufficient to cover all of Ukraine’s needs, and its sustainability beyond two years is uncertain. Furthermore, Europe has failed to use frozen Russian assets to finance Ukraine’s reconstruction—a failure that John Bolton describes as an outright failure on the part of leaders whom Vladimir Putin had called “little pigs” just a few days earlier. The €90 billion loan that was ultimately granted represents less than half of what was projected, and the more substantial resources needed to defend and rebuild Ukraine remain undefined and therefore uncertain.

This financial shortfall reflects a deeper reality: Europe lacks the political will to completely replace the United States as the guarantor of Ukraine’s security. European countries have increased their defense budgets, but they remain far from having the capabilities needed to deter Russia without the U.S. nuclear umbrella. German Chancellor Friedrich Merz stated that Germany was prepared to deploy forces to NATO territory adjacent to Ukraine following a ceasefire, but this promise remains conditional and limited. France, under Emmanuel Macron, has raised the possibility of sending troops to Ukraine as part of a peacekeeping force, but this idea has been rejected by most other European countries and by Russia. Sergey Lavrov warned that if a coalition of volunteers were deployed in Ukraine, our armed forces would consider them a legitimate target—a threat that has dampened European enthusiasm. Ultimately, Europe remains dependent on the United States for its security—a dependence that Trump exploits to impose his terms in negotiations over Ukraine.

Europe’s powerlessness frustrates me to no end. Not because I naively believe that Europe should embark on a military confrontation with Russia. But because this perpetual dependence on the United States deprives us of any strategic autonomy, of any ability to defend our own interests and our own values. We are reduced to begging for American support, to accepting Washington’s decisions even when they violate our principles, to financing a war whose outcome we do not control. This infantilization of Europe, this inability to assume our responsibilities as a collective power, fills me with a smoldering anger. We deserve better than this role of a powerless spectator in a drama unfolding right on our doorstep.

Beijing is watching and learning

China is closely monitoring developments in Venezuela and Ukraine, viewing them as precedents that could apply to its own situation with Taiwan. China’s condemnation of U.S. intervention in Venezuela has been scathing, with the Chinese Foreign Ministry stating that such hegemonic behavior by the United States seriously violates international law. However, this condemnation has not been followed by any concrete action, with China merely supporting the call for an emergency meeting of the UN Security Council. This restraint suggests that Beijing, like Moscow, has tacitly accepted the principle of spheres of influence and does not wish to engage in a direct confrontation with Washington to defend a distant ally. Brynn Tannehill, writing in The New Republic, argues that China’s relative silence strongly suggests that Taiwan may already be on the table as part of a major power-brokerage deal among the great powers.

This hypothesis is reinforced by revelations in The New York Times that Trump reportedly conducted intensive confidential negotiations with China prior to the operation in Venezuela, apparently to establish a U.S. sphere of influence that Beijing would agree to respect. In exchange, the United States may have given tacit assurances regarding its position on Taiwan, or at least agreed not to intervene militarily if China decided to resolve the Taiwan issue by force. Thomas L. Friedman, writing in the New York Times, poses the question haunting Taiwanese leaders: What are the leaders of other key nations—Xi Jinping in China, Vladimir Putin in Russia, Volodymyr Zelenskyy in Ukraine, and Lai Ching-te in Taiwan—thinking now? Friedman suggests that China might view the intervention in Venezuela as yet another precedent that would justify its overthrow of the Taiwanese government, while rejoicing in the fact that the United States will be more preoccupied than ever with its own hemisphere.

The Dilemma of U.S. Deterrence

The Trump administration faces a major strategic dilemma regarding Taiwan. On the one hand, the new U.S. National Security Strategy reaffirms the United States’ commitment to Taiwan’s security and freedom of navigation in the Taiwan Strait. On the other hand, the logic of the Monroe Doctrine as applied to Latin America suggests that the United States accepts the principle that every great power has the right to control its own sphere of influence without external interference. If Washington claims this right for the Western Hemisphere, on what basis can it deny it to Beijing for East Asia? This contradiction has not escaped the attention of Chinese analysts, who highlight American hypocrisy and are preparing Chinese public opinion for possible action against Taiwan. The Chinese Ministry of Defense has intensified its military exercises around Taiwan, testing the U.S. reaction and assessing the credibility of Washington’s deterrence.

The central question is whether the United States is prepared to risk a war with China to defend Taiwan. Three successive presidents have refused to send American troops to defend Ukraine against Russia, despite statements of support and massive arms shipments. This reluctance to engage militarily directly suggests that Washington might take the same approach in the face of a Chinese invasion of Taiwan: diplomatic support, economic sanctions, and arms supplies—but no direct military intervention that could risk a nuclear war. Samuel Charap and Jennifer Kavanagh warn that Article 5-style security guarantees for Ukraine or Taiwan promise too much and could be perceived by adversaries as a bluff to be tested. If deterrence fails, the United States would find itself in an impossible situation: either go to war with a nuclear power or renege on its commitments and destroy its global credibility. This strategic uncertainty potentially encourages China to take a chance, especially if it perceives that the United States is distracted by its problems in Latin America and Europe.

Taiwan haunts me like a ghost from the future. I look at this democratic island of 23 million people—prosperous, vibrant, free—and I wonder how much longer it can maintain its de facto independence in the face of an increasingly impatient Chinese giant. The Taiwanese have lived under this sword of Damocles for decades, but the threat has never been so real, so immediate. If Ukraine falls, if the world accepts that might makes right, then Taiwan will be next. And unlike Ukraine, Taiwan is an island, with no land borders with allies and no way to receive weapons by land. A Chinese invasion would be swift, brutal, and likely successful. And we, the rest of the world, would stand by, powerless or indifferent, just as we have watched so many other tragedies unfold live on television.

Criticism of Trump’s Policy

Despite the Republican establishment’s apparent support for Trump’s foreign policy, dissenting voices are speaking out to criticize the administration’s approach. John Bolton, Trump’s former national security adviser and a notorious hawk, published a scathing op-ed in the Washington Post titled “How the West Is Losing Ukraine Without Losing a Battle.” Bolton argues that recent Western failures and mistakes have increased Russia’s chances of prevailing in its unprovoked aggression against Ukraine, warning that many Americans and Europeans seem determined to do Moscow’s bidding. He particularly criticizes the EU’s failure to utilize frozen Russian assets and Trump’s intervention to block the EU’s loan-and-reparations plan, asserting that this has fostered Western disunity and constitutes an outright failure by leaders whom Putin had called “little pigs” just days earlier.

Other criticism comes from the isolationist wing of the Republican Party and some progressive Democrats who oppose intervention in Venezuela for different reasons. The isolationists argue that the United States should not waste American resources and lives to solve problems in other countries, whether in Venezuela, Ukraine, or Taiwan. Progressives, for their part, denounce the violation of international law and fear that intervention in Venezuela will set a dangerous precedent that could be used by other countries to justify their own acts of aggression. Senator Bernie Sanders stated that Trump’s invasion of Venezuela is illegal, immoral, and counterproductive, adding that the United States should support democracy and human rights through peaceful means, not military invasions. This diverse coalition of opponents to Trump’s policies remains, however, a minority and disorganized, unable to propose a coherent alternative that could rally a majority in Congress or among the public.

Alternative Proposals for Peace

Several analysts and former diplomats have proposed alternative approaches to resolving the crises in Ukraine and Venezuela—approaches that prioritize diplomacy and international law over military force. Fareed Zakaria, writing in the Washington Post, highlights the fundamental difference between a ceasefire and a genuine peace agreement, arguing that a ceasefire is a pause in the fighting, whereas a peace agreement is a new order rooted in credible deterrence, political support, and a framework that reduces the incentive and capacity to resume the war. Zakaria proposes that security guarantees for Ukraine be permanent rather than limited to 15 years, because a time-limited guarantee signals its own expiration date and tells Moscow to bide its time, rebuild its forces, and return once the clock has run out. He also emphasizes the need for a robust economic framework that encourages long-term investment in Ukraine—something that would be impossible if the country’s security were contractually uncertain as of a given date.

Barton Swaim, writing in the Wall Street Journal, takes a radically different position, drawing on Edward Luttwak’s 2000 essay titled “Give War a Chance.” Swaim argues that Trump is mistaken in thinking that peace is always better when it comes sooner, and that war can bring about peace through a process of attrition in which leaders and nations eventually accept the necessary compromises. Applying this logic to Ukraine, Swaim suggests that the United States should continue to arm Ukraine and let the two countries decide for themselves when they can no longer continue fighting, accepting at best a peace of separation rather than reconciliation. This approach, though controversial, reflects a growing frustration with mediation efforts that seem to prolong the conflict without resolving it. However, it ignores the massive human costs of a protracted war and the risk of nuclear escalation if the conflict intensifies further.

These debates about peace and war make my head spin. Each position seems to have its own logic, its own arguments, and its own historical examples. Zakaria is right to say that a bad peace agreement can set the stage for the next war. Swaim is right to say that sometimes only total exhaustion can force the warring parties to accept reality. Bolton is right to say that the West risks losing Ukraine due to its own weakness and divisions. But all these arguments, however brilliant they may be, seem terribly abstract to me when I think of the people dying every day, the families destroyed, the lives shattered. Is an imperfect peace better than a just war? Is a protracted war better than a swift surrender? I don’t have an answer, and I suspect no one really does. We are navigating by sight through a moral fog where every choice seems wrong, where every decision carries unbearable costs.

The Scenario of a Negotiated Agreement

The first scenario—the one favored by the Trump administration—is that of a negotiated agreement that would freeze the conflict in Ukraine along the current lines of territorial control, with a few minor adjustments. In this scenario, Ukraine would agree to cede approximately 20 percent of its territory, including most of the Donbas and the occupied areas in the Zaporizhzhia and Kherson oblasts. In exchange, Ukraine would receive Article 5-style security guarantees, massive funding for reconstruction, and the promise of future membership in the European Union. Russia, for its part, would obtain de facto recognition of its territorial gains, the gradual lifting of certain sanctions, and assurances that Ukraine would never join NATO. An international peacekeeping force, likely composed of European troops under U.S. command, would be deployed along the demarcation line to monitor the ceasefire. This scenario has the advantage of immediately halting the fighting and allowing all parties to claim victory: Trump could boast of having ended the war, Putin of having secured substantial territorial gains, and Zelensky of having saved 80 percent of Ukraine and obtained solid security guarantees.

However, this scenario carries numerous risks and uncertainties. First, there is no guarantee that Russia will honor the agreement in the long term. The history of the 2014 and 2015 Minsk agreements—which were systematically violated by Moscow—suggests that Putin could use the ceasefire to rebuild his forces and prepare a new offensive. Second, U.S. security guarantees depend on the political will of future U.S. presidents to honor them—a will that could evaporate if Washington’s strategic priorities change. Third, Ukraine would have to accept living indefinitely with a sword of Damocles hanging over its head, knowing that Russia could resume the war at any moment. Fourth, this agreement would legitimize the principle that territorial conquest by force is acceptable if followed by negotiations—an extremely dangerous precedent for the international order. Fifth, the Ukrainian people might reject this agreement, viewing it as rewarding the aggressor and betraying the sacrifices made during three years of war. Elections in Ukraine following the signing of such an agreement could see Zelenskyy defeated by a more nationalist candidate, which would destabilize the agreement even before its full implementation.

The Prolonged War Scenario

The second scenario is that of a protracted war that would continue for years, perhaps decades, without either side achieving a decisive victory. In this scenario, peace negotiations would fail due to irreconcilable positions, and the conflict would devolve into a low-intensity war of attrition similar to the one that prevailed in the Donbas between 2014 and 2022. Fighting would continue along a relatively stable front line, with minimal territorial gains on either side. Russia would continue its strikes on Ukrainian infrastructure, seeking to make the country unlivable and force the population to flee. Ukraine, for its part, would intensify its attacks on Russian energy and military infrastructure, seeking to exhaust the Russian economy and undermine domestic support for the war. Western support for Ukraine would gradually diminish as war fatigue sets in and other crises capture international attention. Ukraine would become a state in a state of perpetual war, with a war economy, constant mobilization, and a population traumatized by years of conflict.

This scenario entails catastrophic human and economic costs for all parties. Ukraine would lose an entire generation, with hundreds of thousands dead and wounded, millions of refugees, and a devastated economy. Russia would also suffer massive losses, with an economy weakened by sanctions and the costs of war, an aging and declining population, and growing international isolation. Europe would have to continue funding Ukraine’s war effort while managing the economic consequences of sanctions against Russia and the energy crisis. The United States would see its attention and resources diverted from the confrontation with China, its top strategic priority. The risk of nuclear escalation would remain, with the possibility that an incident or miscalculation could trigger a direct confrontation between NATO and Russia. This scenario would benefit no one, but it could nevertheless occur if none of the parties is willing to make the compromises necessary to reach a peace agreement. Michael Kofman believes that Russia may struggle to maintain the current intensity of fighting for another 12 months due to the depletion of its human resources, but this does not necessarily mean that Moscow will agree to negotiate in good faith.

The Scenario of Catastrophic Escalation

The third scenario—the most feared but not the least likely—is that of a catastrophic escalation that could lead to a direct confrontation between NATO and Russia, with the risk of nuclear war. This scenario could be triggered in several ways: a particularly destructive Ukrainian strike on Russian territory that would provoke a disproportionate response from Moscow; an accident at the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant that would be attributed to one side or the other; the deployment of NATO troops in Ukraine, which Russia would perceive as a red line being crossed; or a false-flag operation orchestrated by one of the belligerents to force its allies to intervene. In this scenario, de-escalation mechanisms would fail, communication channels between Moscow and Washington would break down, and both sides would find themselves caught in a spiral of escalation that neither could truly control. Russia’s use of tactical nuclear weapons on the Ukrainian battlefield could be followed by NATO retaliation, triggering an escalation toward the use of strategic weapons and full-scale nuclear war.

This apocalyptic scenario seems unlikely, but it cannot be entirely ruled out as long as the conflict continues. Nuclear security experts warn that the risk of nuclear weapons being used is higher today than at any time since the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962. Putin’s nuclear rhetoric, his repeated threats to use all available weapons to defend Russian territory, and Russian nuclear exercises are creating a climate of extreme tension. On the Western side, some hawks are calling for a more aggressive response to Russian aggression, including the supply of long-range weapons to Ukraine to strike deep into Russian territory—a move that could be perceived by Moscow as direct NATO involvement in the war. The risk of miscalculation is particularly high in a context where both sides deeply distrust each other and communication channels are limited. A minor incident could quickly escalate into a major crisis if leaders on both sides conclude that the other is about to launch an attack and decide to strike first. This catastrophic scenario must be avoided at all costs, which requires keeping communication channels open, de-escalating rhetoric, and actively seeking a negotiated agreement—even if it is imperfect.

These three scenarios send a chill down my spine, each in its own way. The negotiated agreement that betrays principles in the name of realism. The protracted war that grinds entire generations into an endless infernal machine. The catastrophic escalation that could wipe out our civilization. None of these futures is acceptable, and yet one of them will likely come to pass. I feel powerless in the face of these titanic forces clashing, these relentless logics dragging us toward destinations that no one truly wants. Where are the responsible adults who should be leading us out of this impasse? Where are the visionary leaders capable of transcending short-term calculations and thinking about the interests of humanity as a whole? I look for them and cannot find them. Perhaps they no longer exist, replaced by strongmen who know only the language of force and power struggles.

The Return of the Law of the Strongest

We are witnessing a pivotal moment in world history, one of those moments when the tectonic plates of geopolitics shift abruptly, redrawing the map of power and possibilities. The U.S. State Department’s message in Russian—“Don’t mess with President Trump”—perfectly sums up the spirit of this new era: diplomacy by brute force, unvarnished, without hypocrisy, and without any pretense of adhering to rules that no one truly believes are binding anymore. Marco Rubio, with his icy sarcasm toward Sergey Lavrov, embodies this new generation of leaders who prefer open confrontation to discreet negotiations, who view force as the only language their adversaries understand. This approach may seem refreshing in its candor, liberating in its rejection of stifling diplomatic conventions. But it is also profoundly dangerous because it destroys the safeguards that, however imperfect they may be, have helped prevent a world war since 1945.

U.S. intervention in Venezuela and Russia’s relative silence in the face of the capture of its ally Maduro mark the official return of spheres of influence as the organizing principle of international relations. Each major power controls its own backyard and tacitly accepts that others do the same. The United States has Latin America, Russia has the post-Soviet space, and China has East Asia. Countries unfortunate enough to find themselves within these zones become pawns in a grand geopolitical game, stripped of their agency and reduced to choosing their master rather than their destiny. This cynical logic, which was thought to have been buried with the end of the Cold War, is making a strong comeback because the great powers have concluded that the rules-based international system no longer serves their interests. The United States, which created and dominated this system for decades, is the first to abandon it under Trump, preferring the certainty of force to the uncertainty of law. Russia and China, which never truly embraced this system—which they perceived as an instrument of Western domination—are rejoicing at its collapse and preparing to capitalize on it.

The Uncertain Future of Ukraine and the World

Ukraine finds itself at the center of this geopolitical storm, a living symbol of the struggle between the old order and the new global disorder. Its fate will determine whether territorial conquest by force becomes acceptable again in the 21st century, whether small countries can still rely on international law to protect their sovereignty, and whether Western security guarantees hold any value. The ongoing negotiations between Washington, Moscow, and Kyiv increasingly resemble a bargaining process in which Ukraine is being asked to sacrifice part of its territory and sovereignty in exchange for promises whose credibility remains to be proven. Volodymyr Zelensky, caught between the conflicting demands of Trump and Putin, between the expectations of his people and the realities of the balance of power, must navigate a diplomatic maze where every choice carries existential risks for his country. If he accepts the American terms, he risks being overthrown by the Ukrainian people, who would view the agreement as a betrayal. If he refuses, he risks losing U.S. support and seeing his country collapse under Russian attacks.

Beyond Ukraine, the entire global security architecture is teetering. If Russia can conquer 20 percent of Ukraine and have those gains legitimized by a peace agreement, then no medium-sized country is safe. China will watch closely and draw its own conclusions regarding Taiwan. Other regional powers—from Turkey to Iran to India—might decide that they, too, have the right to redraw borders in their own neighborhoods. The risk is a cascade of territorial conflicts across the globe, with each regional power seeking to maximize its territory and influence while the major powers are distracted or indifferent. Europe, caught between its commitment to international law and its dependence on the United States, finds itself in a particularly uncomfortable position. It must choose between its values and its interests, between its desire to defend Ukraine and its reluctance to commit militarily, between its aspiration for strategic autonomy and the reality of its diminished power. This choice will shape the future of Europe as much as that of Ukraine.

I conclude this article with a sense of vertigo and anxiety. Vertigo at the sheer scale of the forces at play, at the speed with which the world order we knew is disintegrating. Anxiety at the radical uncertainty of the future, at the lack of a clear vision of what should replace the old system. We are at one of those moments in history when anything seems possible—for better or for worse. A new world order could emerge, one that is more stable and just than the old one. Or we could plunge into chaos, into an era of constant conflict and existential threats. I don’t know what will happen. No one really knows. But I do know that we cannot remain passive spectators of our own destiny. Each of us, in our own way, must choose what kind of world we want to build, what values we want to uphold, and what future we want to leave to future generations. This choice is not abstract. It is made every day, through our actions, our words, and our silences. And from the sum of these individual choices, tomorrow’s world will emerge. May we choose wisely, courageously, and humanely.