Trump has given Putin time—and even offered him a doughnut.
This is so evident that even the American press and several Russian propagandists have taken notice.
It all fits into the logic of an eternal Yalta: if Russia fails to break the deadlock by this autumn, it may never get another chance—unless a military intervention comes to its aid, perhaps from the Americans or the Chinese.
But there’s another dimension to this penultimate—or perhaps antepenultimate—Trumpian ultimatum.
Despite the contradictions that often characterize his statements, Trump has declared that in fifty days he will lift the restrictions on European support and finally impose structural sanctions on Moscow.
This scenario isn’t implausible if we consider historical U.S. precedents.
American precedents are clear: they tend to fight—or pretend to fight—one enemy in order to undermine another.
In both world wars, the United States’ real strategic target was the British Empire, which is why Washington initially welcomed Japan’s early victories.
Churchill—the man who ultimately sank British power—acted as the true enemy agent in London, enabling Roosevelt’s plan to reshape the global order.
Historically, the U.S. has stabbed its “allies” in the back more often than it has confronted its actual enemies.
Ukraine is no exception.
While officially supporting the invaded, the U.S. continues to provide key military components and technical know-how that allow the Russian invaders to keep fighting—while also purchasing Russian uranium to power its nuclear energy sector.
More than World War II, today’s dynamics resemble those of World War I.
For over two years, the U.S. financed both sides. American Jewish finance supported the empires, while Protestant finance backed the democracies.
By late 1916, a strategic pivot was made: everything was thrown behind England—thus binding it with debt—while the Central Powers were abandoned.
With the Russian Revolution, the U.S. forcibly wedged itself into the European arena.
Could it be that the U.S., instead of continuing to prop up its supposed Russian adversary—who in reality acts more like a dealer—suddenly lets him fall?
It’s not out of the question, especially if Putin’s loyal but brutal puppets continue to prove themselves so politically and militarily inept.
We must not forget that the Russian system used to function when led by Georgian and Ukrainian elites; that is no longer the case—and it shows.
Could Putin—who in the past three and a half years has done more damage to Russia than Perestroika ever did—end up destroying even the long-standing relationship that has kept Russia dependent on the U.S., acting as its most faithful underling and perennial beneficiary of American protection?
It’s entirely possible. If Moscow fails to shift the military situation within the next three and a half months, a dramatic fallout cannot be ruled out.
