By Jonathan Chait
Wednesday, March 05, 2025
Donald Trump’s highly public schism with Volodymyr
Zelensky has yielded the kind of doublethink that is common in personality
cults. Those believers who approve of the policy hail the great leader’s
strategic genius. And those who oppose it cast the blame elsewhere,
constructing ever more elaborate accounts of Trump’s strategy to avoid
acknowledging the obvious: Trump has an affinity for Vladimir Putin.
In the first category, you can find members of the
so-called national-conservative movement, who have long rationalized Russia’s
aggression and opposed American support for Ukraine. “Trump understands what
establishment figures do not: that U.S. voters are no longer willing to allow
Washington to write checks on the American people’s account,” the
national-conservative intellectual Rod Dreher wrote
exultantly after Zelensky’s Oval Office browbeating. Christopher Caldwell,
another natcon writer, argued in The
Free Press that Trump’s posture toward Ukraine “is a deeper and more
historically grounded view than the one that prevailed in the Biden
administration,” rejecting Joe Biden’s view of the war as a “barbaric”
invasion. (Perhaps unsurprisingly, Trump’s admirers include the Russian
government itself, which has congratulated him
for “rapidly changing foreign policy configurations,” which “largely coincides
with our vision.”)
In the second category, you have Trump defenders who
support Ukraine, and reacted to Friday’s events with dismay. To resolve their
cognitive dissonance, or perhaps to retain their influence, they do not blame
Trump for initiating the breach with Zelensky. Instead, they blame Zelensky.
The Ukrainian president’s responsibility for the crisis
includes such actions as failing to dress properly. “I mean, all Zelensky had
to do today was put on a tie, show up, smile, say ‘Thank you,’ sign the papers,
and have lunch,” complained
Scott Jennings, who had reportedly been considered for White House spokesperson
and performs essentially the same function for CNN. “That’s it. And he couldn’t
do that.”
Ah yes, the tie. Apparently Trump and his supporters care
deeply about the tie. If we take this line of argument seriously, it posits
that the United States reversed its foreign policy based on an outfit
choice—and this argument is being made as a defense of Trump’s judgment.
A related and only slightly less damning defense is that
Zelensky erred by arguing with Trump and Vice President J. D. Vance when they
presented him with a series of pro-Russian positions during their photo op.
Trump insisted, falsely, that security guarantees for Ukraine were unnecessary
because Putin would never violate one. (He praised Putin’s character and spoke
wistfully of how the two men had to endure the “Russia hoax” together.) “Why on
earth did Zelensky choose to fact-check Trump in front of the entire world
rather than debate the wisdom of a ceasefire behind closed doors?” demands
conservative columnist Marc Thiessen, a foreign-policy hawk who has sought to
steer Trump toward his own view.
This viewpoint has influenced some mainstream media
coverage of the fateful White House meeting. A recent Politico story
filled with inside-Trump-world reporting, for
example, suggests that Trump was eager to cut a deal, if only Zelensky had
flattered him sufficiently: The Ukrainian president “infuriated Trump last week
with his public suggestion he was swallowing Putin’s disinformation—a response
to Trump’s suggestion that Ukraine started the war.” Or perhaps the source of
Trump’s split with Ukraine is revealed by him regurgitating Russian propaganda
blaming Ukraine for the war, rather than Zelensky correcting him.
Trump may be vain and childish, but he does have some
substantive beliefs. Lindsey Graham, another Trump-worshipping Republican hawk,
told
The New York Times that he had warned Zelensky before the meeting,
“Don’t take the bait,” and publicly criticized the Ukrainian president for not
following his advice. But how did Graham know there would be bait? Perhaps
because Trump has spent years expressing sympathy for Russia and contempt for
its enemies, including Ukraine and the Western alliance.
Trump’s Russophilia used to stand almost unique within
the Republican Party. But he has brought large segments of the right around to
his position, and many of them have turned Zelensky into a hate figure. The
enthusiastically anti-Ukraine conservatives are happy to credit Trump for
reversing the Biden administration’s support for Kyiv. Say what you want about
the tenets of national conservatism; at least it’s an ethos.
The more traditionally anti-Russian conservatives, by contrast, need to find a
way to disagree with the outcome of the Oval Office meeting without seeming to
criticize Trump. That is how authoritarian political cultures operate: The only
permissible way to express disapproval of the leader’s choices is to pretend
they were someone else’s.
This leads to absurd logical contortions. Anti-Russia
conservatives treat their putative objections to Zelenky’s conduct as
legitimate standards that he could have met, as if this is a game with fixed
rules. Presented with the obvious objection —that Elon Musk had dressed even
more slovenly in the Oval Office and a Cabinet meeting just a few days
before—the National Review editor in chief, Rich Lowry, retorted,
“When Zelensky is named the head of DOGE, he can do the same and get away with
it.” Yet no principle of decorum says that a head of state can’t wear a
military uniform in the White House but “the head of DOGE” can wear a T-shirt
and baseball cap. Everything about this solemn rule is made up, including the
position “head of DOGE.” If you have ever watched a school bully, you may
recall that accusing their victim of violating some rule or standard, and then
flouting the standard themselves, is part of the abuse, a way of signaling that
they hold all the power.
Trump’s base was poised to explode at Zelensky—for his
shirt, for his alleged lack of gratitude—because Trump has signaled that he is
their enemy. In their desperation, anti-Russian conservatives have reversed the
obvious causation.
During Trump’s first term, the theory that he loved Putin
was complicated by his inability to overcome resistance by bureaucrats and his
own hawkish advisers. This created room for analysts to accept explanations for
Trump’s stance other than simple affinity for Putin. Now, however, he is able
to quickly carry out such steps as cutting off weapons to Ukraine without
sneaking around or being slow-walked by mid-level staff. Meanwhile, he publicly
blames Ukraine
for the ongoing war and accuses Zelensky of being a dictator who spreads hatred
against Russia. The theory that Trump trusts and wants to help Putin can
parsimoniously explain his rhetoric and actions.
It is the alternative theory, that Trump is playing a
clever geopolitical game, that relies on whispered conversations and intricate
double-meaning interpretations of his public positions. A Wall Street
Journal reporter
deduces from “nearly a year of Trumpworld chatter and (sometimes secret) talks
with foreign officials” that Trump’s real strategy is to “split Russia from
China” and that “there is no way the US will sell Ukraine down the river.” In
some foreign-policy circles, analyses discerning a far-reaching plan from wisps
of buried evidence are considered sophisticated, while positing that Trump
simply believes the things he says almost daily on camera is considered
slightly nutty.
Whatever you want to say about the anti-Ukraine right’s
moral posture, it is at least able to grasp the reality of Trump’s position: He
wants to leave Ukraine at Putin’s mercy. The anti-Russia Trumpers, with their
missing-tie theory of Trump’s Russia strategy, and their convoluted efforts to
explain away his plain wishes, are the ones who have drifted into the realm of
fantasy.
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