The West’s Double Agenda

For months, the US administration under Donald Trump has been attempting to create a diplomatic framework for a possible end to the war in Ukraine. This began with a so‑called US peace deal, which only weeks later revealed itself to be a solid raw‑materials deal in Washington’s favour. This “peace deal” was packed with points which even a critic of Ukraine would have to interpret as signalling that Ukraine – or more precisely, its resources – were up for sale. Why Trump presented such an unbalanced offer was unclear to many observers at the time. What remains striking, however, is that in the end virtually only the raw‑material interests of the United States were satisfied. Peace appeared to be a secondary objective.

The recently proposed 28‑point plan by the US administration bears a noticeable resemblance to the earlier initiative. Once again, it involves significant territorial concessions, an unmistakable economic advantage for the United States in the post‑war period, and a clear expectation that the EU should foot the bill while Washington secures the key benefits. Following criticism from Kiev, the plan was revised and condensed into a 20‑ or 19‑point draft during talks in Geneva. US special envoy Steve Witkoff, together with Jared Kushner, held discussions in Moscow to clarify remaining points of contention. Without evaluating the US efforts in detail, one can at least conclude that on the surface there appears to be an interest in de-escalating the conflict. This fragile process, however, has not been welcomed by all key actors in the US and Europe. What is particularly noticeable is that whenever a political opportunity arises to move towards peace, someone within the network of Western allies interjects with harsh escalatory rhetoric.

Let us take a closer look at the chronology since mid‑year:

The chain of disruptions began with the conversation between Trump and Zelenskyy regarding the delivery of Tomahawk cruise missiles in July. Having previously spoken in clear terms about peace, Trump showed a different side here. Shortly afterwards, the delivery was temporarily taken off the table again, only for Trump to repeat the idea in mid‑October shortly before his trip to Israel. In the meantime, Germany’s Defence Minister Boris Pistorius transformed himself into a handbag Rambo, proclaiming that Germany was ready to “kill Russians”. Whether he had reflected beforehand on which army might accomplish this daring objective is doubtful.

After tempers cooled somewhat, US General Christopher Donahue voiced another escalatory message pointing in the same direction. Donahue, commander of the US Army in Europe, declared that NATO was capable of “destroying” the Russian exclave of Kaliningrad “faster than ever before”. This is not just any territory but a strategically vital centre of Russian military presence with nuclear infrastructure. Statements of this kind may be framed in the West as deterrence, but objectively they sound like a public confirmation of concrete war and attack planning against Russian territory. In Moscow, they are perceived as clear evidence that NATO is not thinking defensively but is contemplating the neutralisation of key Russian regions, at a time when diplomatic progress is being discussed publicly.

Major General Christian Freuding fits seamlessly into this picture. As head of the Ukraine special task force in the German Defence Ministry, he is centrally involved in shaping Germany’s military support. Weeks before Sollfrank or NATO leadership added their public warnings, Freuding stated on television in July that Germany was financing a high three‑digit number of missiles and long‑range weapons systems for Ukraine, capable of penetrating deep into Russian territory to destroy depots, airfields and command centres. This statement was made not during a phase of escalation but at a moment when the US was attempting to arrange a direct meeting between Putin and Trump. While Washington was engaged in diplomatic efforts, Germany and other European states publicly signalled their willingness to broaden Ukraine’s military operations deep into Russia. From Moscow’s perspective, this is not a sign of readiness to negotiate but a strong indication that the West is pursuing a different agenda while pretending to seek peace.

After a brief period of calm, matters escalated again with an American ultimatum to Russia. This time it was Trump personally. In early August, he demanded that Moscow make concessions on Ukraine, initially giving a deadline of 50 days before abruptly shortening it to 10–12 days. Russia interpreted this sudden shift as a threat of potential military escalation. Dmitry Medvedev, former Russian president and current deputy head of the Security Council, saw it as a provocation. He warned that Russia could not be compared with countries like Israel or Iran and stressed the high‑risk character of such rhetoric. Such statements undermine trust in diplomatic solutions and greatly increase the danger of unintended escalation. By this point, the disturbing volatility of Trump’s foreign policy had already become obvious. In predictable fashion, Trump allowed himself to be drawn into a verbal showdown with Medvedev, ultimately claiming that he had moved two nuclear-armed submarines closer to Russia. Whether true or mere theatre remains unclear. It would have served little military purpose given the vast range of such platforms, and would simply have increased the risk of detection.

Moscow responded by announcing that it would no longer refrain from deploying land‑based nuclear weapons. This represented Russia’s first tangible reaction to the previous sabre‑rattling from Western allies. A few days later, Trump sent special envoy Steve Witkoff to Moscow. Officially, the purpose was to explore a possible meeting between Putin and Trump in Alaska. In reality, it was less a serious diplomatic initiative than a tactical manoeuvre. Trump was interested primarily in deals, not in establishing a sustainable security order. Accordingly, he sent a property magnate rather than a seasoned diplomat. The claim that Russia needed to be integrated into a European security architecture came late, far too late. Even Otto von Bismarck had been more advanced in his thinking. In the wake of weeks of war rhetoric and questionable political theatrics, the initiative looked more like a media stunt. In mid‑August, Putin and Trump finally met in Alaska. Much was said, little was decided, and no practical results emerged. After a brief summer lull and some atmospheric easing, further disruptions quickly followed.

In early November, Lieutenant General Alexander Sollfrank, head of the Bundeswehr’s new Operational Command, issued another stark warning. He claimed in interviews that Russia could attack NATO territory “as early as tomorrow”, albeit on a small scale at first. A large‑scale attack could be possible by 2029. Such formulations are enough to influence the political climate profoundly. While diplomatic efforts are under way, the statement of a senior German military figure creates a threat narrative that pushes negotiations into the background and primes the public for escalation rather than détente.

The temporary peak of this escalation sequence came with Admiral Giuseppe Cavo Dragone, chair of NATO’s Military Committee. In an interview, he stated that NATO must in future discuss proactive and even pre‑emptive actions against Russia in response to hybrid attacks or sabotage. The term “pre‑emptive” has a very clear meaning in international politics: it refers to the willingness to conduct a pre-emptive first strike. That a NATO military chief used this term at a time when the peace plan was still on the agenda and US envoys were preparing further talks with Putin is diplomatically disastrous and reinforces Moscow’s deep mistrust. The message is unmistakable: the West talks publicly about peace while simultaneously developing military doctrine aimed at forward‑leaning offensive action.

Taken together, and there are far more events that could be mentioned, including activities in the Baltic region, a pattern emerges that cannot be dismissed as coincidence. Whenever the political level attempts to open a window for negotiations, the military level intervenes and closes it again. The result is always the same: Russia perceives Western peace initiatives as a tactical smokescreen, Europe loses communicative coherence, and the United States appears divided between its diplomatic messaging and its military‑industrial interests. Whether this is the result of poor coordination, internal rivalries or calculated power politics is open to interpretation. What is undeniable is that disruptions from within repeatedly destroy any emerging diplomatic opportunity.

Anyone following geopolitics with attention, and viewing the “Grand Chessboard”, knows that the United States pursues its own interests, which differ significantly from those of Europe. General Freuding himself was recently forced to acknowledge this. He told the press that the United States had suspended its operational communication line with the German Defence Ministry. Such an announcement is a diplomatic earthquake. It means Washington no longer regards Berlin as a reliable partner in key military matters. While the US government publicly works on a peace framework, a German general signals that the most important bilateral military communication channel in the West has effectively been shut down. Outwardly, this creates not an image of cooperation but of chaos. The US negotiates, Germany escalates, and coordination between the two disintegrates. For Moscow, this is not a sign of strength but of Western disarray, and further proof that current Western statements cannot be taken at face value.

To this already tense situation comes another strategic shift: the recent remarks by former US European Commander Ben Hodges. In an interview with Euronews he stated plainly: “The United States really sees Europe as inconsequential except maybe for some business purposes.” He placed Europe geopolitically as “number four”, behind the Western Hemisphere, the Indo‑Pacific and the Middle East, and warned that Europe must finally face the reality that Washington is no longer a reliable partner. When a former commander of US forces in Europe openly states that Europe now plays a marginal role for the United States, it carries huge political weight. It explains why US diplomatic signals and military messages within the alliance diverge so sharply, and it exposes that Europe is viewed in Washington not as a strategic core region but merely as a geopolitical add‑on.

As if this were not problematic enough, it is compounded by the headless EU policy of Ursula von der Leyen, who has reduced Europe to an international laughing stock. Outmanoeuvred by Trump, not taken seriously by Putin, fleeced by Zelenskyy, she stumbles from one foreign‑policy disaster to the next. There are now countless examples. Whether it is the rushed promise of billion‑euro reconstruction and weapons packages for Ukraine, agreed without regard for the financial situations of EU member states, or the attempt to “use” frozen Russian assets as a political showpiece despite numerous legal warnings. Or her embarrassing negotiations with Trump in Scotland, during which she achieved none of her loudly proclaimed strategic aims while committing the EU to hundreds of billions. Von der Leyen lacks any coherent foreign‑policy strategy that might advance the interests of Europe and its citizens. Instead, she throws around taxpayers’ money as if there were no tomorrow, worsening the EU’s fragile position through short‑sighted and hyperactive decision‑making.

This combination of political disorientation in Brussels and strategic discord in the transatlantic alliance reinforces the impression of a West that no longer controls its own direction. While the military side escalates and the political side stumbles, a picture of growing disorder emerges, unsettling allies and adversaries alike. If we combine all these developments, the suspension of the communication line between the US and Germany, the announced deployment of deep‑strike offensive weapons, Sollfrank’s scenario of a Russian attack “as early as tomorrow”, Donahue’s threat against Kaliningrad, Cavo Dragone’s considerations of a pre‑emptive strike and Hodges’ classification of Europe as geopolitically irrelevant—an overall image forms that can hardly be dismissed as coincidence. The Western camp is clearly not speaking with one voice. It is sending contradictory, sometimes chaotic and sometimes dangerously inflammatory signals that in Moscow appear to confirm the notion of a double agenda. As a result, any diplomatic attempt is undermined from within before it can gain substance.

Peace requires coherence, order and strategic seriousness. As long as Western military leaders publicly discuss first strikes, territorial neutralisation, imminent attack scenarios and the breakdown of transatlantic communication while their governments conduct peace negotiations in parallel, every diplomatic initiative is weakened from the outset. Europe sits at the centre of these contradictions, geopolitically diminished by Hodges’ assessment, operationally isolated by Freuding’s admission and politically paralysed by the escalatory signals of its own generals. If the West genuinely seeks peace, it must first end its own cacophony. As long as one hand negotiates while the other threatens, diplomacy remains a game with no winners, and Europe its greatest loser.