Washington is pressing Kyiv to sign away billions in mineral wealth for continued support.

Al Jazeera’s Imran Khan reports from Kyiv as Ukrainians are marking the third anniversary of the Russia-Ukraine war.

Out of all the ugly and dishonest things that Donald Trump said about Volodymyr Zelensky last week, the ugliest was not dishonest at all. “I’ve been watching for years, and I’ve been watching him negotiate with no cards,” Trump said of Zelensky. “He has no cards. And you get sick of it.”

Sick of it. Stop and think about that phrase. Trump inserted it into a stream of falsehoods, produced over several days, many of which he must have known to be untrue. He has been lying about the origins of the war, about Zelensky’s popular support, about the levels of U.S. funding for Ukraine, about the extent of European funding, about the status of previous negotiations. But sick of it—that, at least, has the ring of truth. Trump is genuinely bored of the war. He doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t know why it started. He doesn’t know how to stop it. He wants to change the channel and watch something else.

Also, he has no cards: That probably reflects Trump’s true belief as well. For Donald Trump, the only real cards are big money and hard power. Players, in his world, are people whom no court can block, no journalist can question, no legislator can oppose. People whose money can buy anything, whose power cannot be checked or balanced.  

But Trump is wrong. Zelensky might not have money, and he might not be a brutal dictator like Vladimir Putin or Xi Jinping. Yet he does have other kinds of power. He leads a society that organizes itself, with local leaders who have legitimacy and a tech sector dedicated to victory—a society that has come, around the world, to symbolize bravery. He has a message that moves people to act instead of just scaring them into silence.

[Eliot A. Cohen: Incompetence leavened with malignity]

Today, on the third anniversary of Russia’s full-scale invasion, stop and remember what happened on the night it began. I’d had plane tickets to Kyiv that week, but my flights were canceled, and on February 24, 2022, I stayed up and watched the war’s start on television, listening to the sounds of explosions coming from the screen. That night, everyone expected Russia to overrun its much smaller neighbor. But that capitulation never came. Six weeks later, I made it to Kyiv and heard and saw what had happened instead: the hit squads that had tried to kill Zelensky; the murders of civilians in Bucha, a Kyiv suburb; the Ukrainian journalists who had driven around the country trying to tell the story; the civilians who had joined the army; the waitresses who had started cooking for the troops.

Three years later, against all obstacles and all predictions, the civilians, journalists, soldiers, and waitresses are still working together. Ukraine’s million-man army, the largest in Europe, is still fighting. Ukraine’s civil society is still volunteering, still raising money for the troops. Ukraine’s defense industry has transformed itself. In 2022, I saw tiny workshops that made drones out of what looked like cardboard and glue. In 2024, Ukrainian factories produced 1.5 million drones, and this year they will make many more. Teams of people in underground control centers now use bespoke software to hit thousands of targets every month. Their work explains why Russia has taken territory only slowly, despite being on the offensive for most of the past year. At the current rate of advance, the Institute for the Study of War estimates, Russia would need 83 years to capture the remaining 80 percent of Ukraine.

Russia doesn’t have the resources to fight indefinitely against that kind of organization and determination. Putin’s military production is cannibalizing his country’s civilian economy. Inflation has skyrocketed. The only way Putin wins now—the only way he finally succeeds in destroying Ukraine’s sovereignty—is by persuading Ukraine’s allies to be sick of the war.

He wins by persuading Trump to cut off Ukraine, because Zelensky has no cards, and by convincing Europeans that they can’t win either. That’s why Putin’s money bought American influencers in Tennessee and probably many other places, too, and it’s why his propaganda supported the pro-Russian far right in Germany’s elections yesterday, along with other pro-Russian parties across the continent. Putin can’t win on the ground, but he can win in his enemies’ heads—if we let him.

[Robert Kagan: Trump is facing a catastrophic defeat in Ukraine]

Europeans and Americans, Democrats and Republicans, can resist the temptations of boredom and distraction. We can refuse to give in to the cynicism, nihilism, and lies of Russian propaganda, even when they are repeated by the president of the United States. And we can refuse to believe that Ukraine has no cards, that we have no cards, and that the democratic world has no sources of power other than Donald Trump and Elon Musk.

Three years into this war, the stakes are the same as they were on the night it began. Putin, who yesterday launched one of the largest attacks of the entire war, still seeks to destroy Ukraine’s sovereignty, civil society, democracy, and freedom. He still wants to show the world that the era of American power is over, that America will not defend allies in Europe, Asia, or anywhere else. He still wants to nullify the rules and laws that kept Europe peaceful for eight decades, to create instability and fear, not only in the countries that border Russia but across the continent and even around the world.   

The war will only end, truly end, when Putin gives up these goals. Don’t accept any peace deal that allows him to keep them.

European leaders are in Kyiv for the anniversary of the Ukraine war while Starmer and Macron prepare to visit the US.

The sacking of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the chief of naval operations, and the Air Force’s vice chief of staff, as well as the judge advocate generals of the Army, Navy and Air Force on Friday night was completely legal—and appalling.

The consequences of this Friday-night massacre will be long-lasting and damaging. The JAGs embody the deep respect that the United States military has had for the rule of law. Although they merely advise and do not command, their role is a crucial one. The decapitation of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Navy, and the firing of the second-most-senior Air Force officer was bad enough.

The replacement of General C. Q. Brown, a highly decorated and cerebral officer, as chairman by a retired lieutenant general was bizarre and unprecedented. By law the role of chair should be filled, unless the president deems an extraordinary exception necessary, by a four star who has led a service or a combatant command. Lieutenant General Dan Caine was relatively junior, and he spent 2009 to 2016 as a reservist. The skills he acquired as a special operator, moreover, are the antithesis of what the most senior military officer in the country needs. The United States armed forces, composed of millions of men and women on active and reserve duty, operates fleets and divisions and air wings. Its leaders need the ability to handle military movements and the political skills to deal with coalition partners in large-scale operations, skills that are acquired on the conventional side of the house, not in shadow warfare.

Caine, in other words, is not qualified for the job. If he indeed told President Donald Trump that ISIS could be wiped out in a week or four if only the military were unleashed—as Trump has claimed—he has, moreover, exceptionally poor military judgment. If the Israel Defense Forces, deploying substantial air power and five divisions of mechanized infantry, could not wipe out Hamas in a year-long campaign in the tiny area the group controlled, the United States Air Force could not, and cannot, do the same thing to a wily jihadist military organization spread over several large Middle Eastern countries in less than a month.

When confronted with civilian superiors behaving outrageously, the response of the American soldier, sailor, air fighter, or Marine is to stiffen, look rigidly ahead, and follow lawful orders. But they reflect. And what they are assuredly thinking today is that the Trump administration is determined to purge the military’s leadership; that it has no respect for the rule of law, including the law of armed conflict; and that it is willing to put them under the command of political generals of doubtful caliber. To say that they will find this demoralizing is an understatement.

Worse yet, a minority will applaud this. I have spent my entire career in the company of soldiers, including senior officers, and I have never encountered a group of more honorable men and women. There are, however, in all ranks, as in the rest of humanity, a certain proportion of toadies, opportunists, zealots, and fools. These will now be encouraged to curry favor with political authority, and if there is one thing that the Trump administration has shown itself desirous of, it is brownnosing. That will, in turn, undermine military performance. Promote the bootlickers, sow distrust among the decent ones, and military disaster awaits.

This episode tells us a great deal, none of it too surprising, about the secretary of defense, beginning with the firing itself, conducted on a Friday night and without the courtesy of personal meetings. Pete Hegseth may think of himself as a warrior type, but that was the corporate behavior of a coward. He did not publish his reasons for the firings other than mouthing a platitude or two about the public service of his victims. It was the behavior of a leader who is desperately weak.

He may not yet understand the damage that he has done to himself. It will escape no one’s notice that his two most prominent victims were a Black man and a woman, and that he has raged against women in the military. His unwillingness to explain himself means that the worst construction will be put on his actions. Whereas in a normal administration one should give some benefit of the doubt to leaders making hard calls, he deserves, and will receive, none.

That goes for his tattoos too. On one bicep is Deus Vult, “God wills it,” a motto embraced by some white-nationalist groups (which is why he was removed from duty after January 6). His defense is that it is merely a celebration of the Christian-warrior ethic, a slogan attributed to the Crusaders by contemporary chroniclers.

When the Crusaders took Jerusalem in 1099, they spent two days killing the Muslim and Jewish inhabitants. Thomas Asbridge writes in his history of the Crusades that the city was “awash with blood and littered with corpses. In the midsummer heat the stench soon became intolerable, and the dead were dragged out beyond the walls, ‘piled up in mounds as big as houses’ and burned.” Six months later, Jerusalem still stank of death.

If celebration of that kind of thing is not what he means, he should make that clear, but of course he will not. A man as petty, thoughtless, and cruel as his boss, he will both feel aggrieved by reactions to his cruelties and ignorant of their likely consequences.

The firings coincided with other assaults both on the American government—the announced firing of more than 50,000 probationary workers in the Pentagon—and on Ukraine, where the United States leaned on Kyiv to withdraw a motion in the UN that would denounce Russia in favor of one, introduced by the United States, that would make no mention of invasion, atrocities, or aggression. In both cases, there was tremendous self-harm, to the civil service on the one hand and to American foreign policy on the other, as Russia gets consequential gifts without paying for them.

What is to be done? To some extent, the administration is setting up the conditions for its own failures as it causes chaos, alienates constituencies, and cripples essential governmental functions. Some of these actions will be illegal and must be confronted in the courts and beyond; others, like Hegseth’s, will be lawful but still enormously destructive, to which other responses are warranted.

At the very least, the public deserves to know the names of the members of the so-called Department of Government Efficiency, whose staffers have cut a swath through governmental departments but hide their identities from view. A sense of accountability in courts of opinion as well as law—and if not now, then in the future, when, inevitably, the wheel turns and they are no longer in positions of power—may help temper some of their worst excesses.

Unlike Donald Trump, Elon Musk, or J. D. Vance, I have had children serve in uniform in wartime. The parent of a service member looks with a particularly keen eye at who is in command. C. Q. Brown is the kind of general I would have been proud to have leading them, confident in his professional abilities and his moral compass. To understand the fury that many of us who know him feel at this moment, look at the video of his message following George Floyd’s murder. At a time of racial tension unlike anything since the civil-rights movement, he spoke with dignity, restraint, and the deepest kind of patriotism—the patriotism of a Martin Luther King Jr. or, more to the point, a General Dan “Chappie” James Jr., the first Black four-star general, one of the World War II Tuskegee Airmen.

The worst of the MAGA movement are the neo-Confederates, ignoramuses (to be charitable) about this country’s history—hence their outrage at the renaming of forts called after traitor generals from the Civil War—and in many cases, tapping into deep veins of bigotry. With this move, Pete Hegseth will henceforth labor under the presumption that he is among their number, a man unfit to lead anybody, much less the Department of Defense. Meanwhile, it is a consolation to know that this country produced C. Q. Brown—and that there are many more like him out there.

The scene in Kyiv earlier this month recalled the darkest days of oligarchic rule. U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent slipped a piece of paper across the table to Volodmyr Zelensky. “You really need to sign this,” Bessent told the Ukrainian president, according to The Wall Street Journal. The document was a deal to give the United States the rights to hundreds of billions of dollars’ worth of Ukraine’s minerals. When Zelensky said that he needed time to consider the proposal, Bessent pushed the paper closer to him and warned that “people back in Washington” would be very upset.

The Trump administration was operating in the old spirit of the kleptocrats who built fortunes in Ukraine and Russia at the dawn of the post-Communist era, wielding veiled threats to bully the nation’s leader into hastily handing over precious resources in a shady deal.

To Zelensky’s credit, he did his best to resist Bessent’s pressure. “I can’t sell our state,” he explained. It was as if he had actually internalized the message that American diplomats from the Bush, Obama, and Biden administrations had attempted to drum into Ukraine’s collective psyche: Ukraine’s democracy depends on it resisting powerful business interests that seek to plunder its wealth on terms highly unfavorable to the Ukrainian public. Zelensky’s willingness to stand up to President Donald Trump, holding true to American values in the face of American intimidation, was a perverse trading of places.

[Anne Applebaum: The end of the postwar world]

The moment recalls another episode in Ukraine’s recent past. Three years ago today, Russian troops streamed across the nation’s borders, assassins descended on the capital in search of its president, citizens decamped to the subways in search of shelter. Western intelligence agencies predicted Ukraine’s imminent demise. And in that moment of despair, Zelensky strode out into the empty streets of Kyiv, in the dark of night, to record a video reassuring the world, “We are still here.”

In those early days of the war, Zelensky began to pose as a defender of liberalism, fighting on behalf of global democracy. Whether he actually meant it wasn’t clear. Before the war, his record of curbing corruption was spotty at best. With his political inexperience, and his strange unwillingness to prepare his country against the looming Russian threat, the former comic actor hardly had the makings of a sturdy bulwark against autocracy.

But he became one in the face of an unrelenting assault. Having preserved his nation’s independence, however, he’s now facing not one but two of the world’s most powerful illiberal leaders, conspiring in tandem. For reasons both petty and pecuniary, Trump seems intent on fulfilling Russian President Vladimir Putin’s goal of crushing Ukrainian sovereignty. The American president is pressing for Russia’s favored resolution to the war, without even allowing Zelensky a seat at the negotiating table. And the resource deal he’s pursuing amounts to World War I–style reparations, but extracted from the victim of aggression. It would force the Ukrainians to hand over the wealth beneath their ground, without any guarantee of their security in exchange. The extortion that Trump proposes would deny Ukraine any possibility of recovering economically, and consign its people to a state of servitude.

[Peter Wehner: MAGA has found a new model]

In this new moment of crisis, Zelensky is reverting to the role he played in the war’s earliest days. Confronted with blunt force, he’s bravely resisting. Squaring up to the bully, he accused Trump of swimming in disinformation. Despite all the pressure the United States has applied on him to accede to the mineral deal, he’s refused. On Sunday, he said, “I am not signing something that ten generations of Ukrainians will have to repay.” Knowing that Trump will never set aside her personal animosity toward him, he offered to resign in exchange for a Western security guarantee.

He has resisted the administration’s demands despite the fact that has no leverage in his dealings with the U.S., other than moral suasion and a limited ability to get in Trump’s way. Ukraine’s military is entirely dependent on American arms, and its European allies can do almost nothing, at this late date, to fill the void. In the end, given Ukraine’s tenuous existence, Zelensky might have little choice but to accept whatever Trump imposes, but at least he’s shown that there’s a course other than immediate surrender.

[Quico Toro: Brazil stood up for its democracy. Why didn’t the United States?]

Once upon a time, the United States poured diplomatic resources and military aid into Ukraine so that it wouldn’t descend into Russian-style autocracy. Now it’s the United States that’s headed in that direction. In the form of Elon Musk, an oligarch has captured the power of the American government, through which he can invisibly advance his own interests. The president is attempting to intimidate (and sue) the media into complying with the administration’s agenda. The norms of the administrative state have been shattered so that Trump can reward cronies and punish enemies. And in the most literal sense, the United States is collaborating with Russian autocracy so that the foreign policies of the two regimes are more closely aligned.

American institutions have largely faltered amid Trump’s assault, and European allies have aimlessly panicked. But Zelensky’s very presence reprimands the West for its futile opposition; his resoluteness shames Republicans, who once admired him as a latter-day Winston Churchill, for their own abject capitulation. Although he arguably has more to lose from a Trump administration than anyone on the planet, he’s kept pushing back, with resourcefulness that recalls Ukraine’s guerrilla tactics in the earliest days of the Russian invasion. When the history of the era is written, Zelensky will be seen as the global leader of the anti-authoritarian resistance, who refused to accept the terms that the powerful sought to impose on his nation. He clarified the terms of the struggle with his heroic example. He reminds despairing liberals, “We are still here.”

Donald Trump has done Europe a favor. During a press conference last week, the president blamed Ukraine for triggering Vladimir Putin’s full-scale invasion of its territory, and for having the temerity to continue fighting a Russian army bent on wiping out Ukrainian national identity. Trump had previously noted that Russia has lost a lot of soldiers in the invasion, as if that gives Moscow’s army a right of conquest over the parts of Ukraine that it seized. He paid no heed to the massive number of war crimes that Russia committed along the way.

In doing all this, Trump was disabusing European democracies of the illusion, widely held among such countries’ leaders, that the United States was a reliable defender of freedom on the continent and could be trusted in a crisis. In the days before his anti-Ukrainian rant, Trump’s defense secretary said that the U.S. will reduce its military footprint in Europe, his vice president promoted the cause of pro-Putin far-right parties in Europe, and his Ukraine envoy pushed a plan for elections on Ukraine that mirrored Kremlin thinking.

In short, Trump is with Putin far more than he is with Europe’s democracies.

[Anne Applebaum: The end of the postwar world]

Perhaps this realization will lead Europe to act in its own interests in a way that it so far has found impossible to do. Relying on the United States has infantilized European states, to the point that until now they seemed incapable of thinking, let alone acting, on their own behalf. Europe must immediately start looking out for itself, because it can no longer depend on Washington as a defense partner or even a good friend. Adapting to this new reality will require a level of effort that Europe has not shown for decades.

The first thing European states must do is replace U.S. military and economic support for Kyiv. Ukrainian victory, including the survival of Ukrainian democracy and the defense of Ukraine’s internationally recognized borders, is vital to the future security of Europe. But European states have meekly allowed the U.S. to steer the war in disastrous directions. First, President Joe Biden, despite supporting Ukraine’s defense, gave in to Russian nuclear threats and withheld potentially decisive Western weapons systems at crucial junctures. Now his successor has switched sides and taken Russia’s position.

Although Europe as a whole has supplied more aid, the U.S. has provided far more than any single European country. That assistance has included a great deal of the world’s most powerful and effective military equipment. Europe cannot hope to replicate American strength in military technology. Europe itself is a consumer of the American-developed Patriot air-defense systems that Ukraine has been using. If the United States stops supplying 155-millimeter artillery shells, or the cannon barrels through which they are fired, Europe may not be able to provide anything close to the necessary quantities.

But although European states can’t just build lots of Patriot missiles and other essential American-made equipment, they can do more to provide what Ukraine needs to fight in the coming year. They can dig deeper into their own stocks; supply European weapons systems, such as German-made Taurus cruise missiles, that they have heretofore denied the Ukrainians; and even use seized Russian financial assets to purchase weapons from around the world. They can also speed up cooperation and financial support for Ukraine’s own unmanned-aerial-vehicle industry. This will both help Ukraine and significantly improve the UAV capacity of European states in the future. The Ukraine war is the greatest drone-technology laboratory that the world has yet seen.

More cooperation with Ukraine on drones should also help European countries develop their own military-production capabilities. Taken together, these democracies are among the world’s biggest spenders on military procurement. In 2024, EU states alone spent more than 320 billion euros on defense. However, this large sum was terribly spent. It yielded wild duplication of frontline weapons systems and relatively little investment in better logistics, maintenance, and supply replenishment. European governments should establish a common production system that adopts fewer designs for vehicles and equipment but produces many more of each model.

[Phillips Payson O’Brien: A wider war has already started in Europe]

Furthermore, Europeans will almost certainly have to arrange for their own nuclear weapons. Since World War II, the Western democracies have been under the U.S. nuclear shield. Without reliable American protection, all of democratic Europe would have to rely on the small British and French nuclear forces to deter a much larger Russian arsenal. A further problem is that the British and French forces are partly based on U.S.-supplied technology.

To protect against Russian nuclear blackmail without help from Washington, Europe would need a crash nuclear-weapons program and to develop a command structure that would reassure all of the continent’s democracies that they are protected by those weapons. This is no easy task. Europe has the technological capacity now to build nuclear warheads but would need to develop its own intercontinental ballistic missiles, submarine-launched ballistic missiles, and other delivery systems. And it would have to do all of this quickly.

To take the necessary steps—bolstering Ukraine, building up European military production, and devising a nuclear deterrent separate from America’s—Europe will need to do one more thing: create a political structure to help guide this process. Both NATO and the EU would likely be hamstrung by pro-Putin fifth columnists in Hungary and Slovakia. Another problem for the EU is that it doesn’t include the United Kingdom, one of Europe’s major military powers.

Europe should create its own strong military alliance, one that draws on the existing assets of NATO members, with the exception of the U.S., Hungary, and Slovakia. Turkey and Canada, too, could be invited to join the new European version of NATO. This organization would need teeth, including an entirely new military-command structure and the ability to help European states rationalize their weapons production. It would also have to be able to ruthlessly purge pro-Putin member states from its ranks in the future. It would use European resources to prepare to fight wars and protect European freedoms.

What the past few years have shown is that European self-infantilization has probably hastened the continent’s decline relative to the rest of the world. While the U.S. has powered ahead in technology, Europe has lagged behind. A new, emboldened Europe, looking after itself and spending its own money to invest in high-tech defense industries, could also kick-start the continent’s revitalization.

Moreover, it could provide the world with hope that democracy will not be extinguished. The United States now is on some strange, dark journey. The future of freedom in America is uncertain when the president lavishly praises dictators and fulminates against legitimately elected leaders. Europe can show the world that democratic states can, if pushed, still rally to protect themselves.

EU leaders in Kyiv, Moscow rejects Trump's push for swift ceasefire, competing UN votes scheduled.