Trump and Putin (image created with AI).
Anne Applebaum’s analysis of the war in Ukraine exposes a troubling shift in how American foreign policy is currently being practiced. Her central argument is not that diplomacy has failed, but that its purpose has been distorted. Decisions that should be guided by public interest, democratic accountability, and long-term security increasingly appear to be shaped by private financial incentives.
At the heart of her critique is a series of informal and opaque “peace initiatives” related to Ukraine. These efforts are not being led by career diplomats, allied negotiators, or institutions accountable to voters and legislatures. Instead, they involve business figures and political confidants operating through private channels between the United States and Russia. While presented as attempts to end the war, the structure and content of the proposals suggest a different underlying logic.
According to reporting Applebaum cites, early versions of these peace plans paired Ukrainian territorial concessions with prospects for American–Russian commercial cooperation. These reportedly included access to natural resources, energy infrastructure, and even the use of frozen Russian assets. Within this framework, Ukraine’s sovereignty and Europe’s long-term security are not treated as fundamental principles, but as variables in a deal.
The substance of the proposed settlement makes this clear. Ukraine would be expected to formally recognize Russian control over occupied territories, renounce any future NATO membership, and accept an agreement without credible security guarantees. Applebaum stresses why this is not merely unfair, but dangerous. Russia has failed to win the war militarily. What it now seeks is a political victory—achieved by persuading or pressuring Ukraine, through American intermediaries, to surrender what Russian forces could not seize on the battlefield.
From Ukraine’s perspective, such a settlement would leave the country exposed. Without firm security guarantees, there can be no real reconstruction, no stable return of refugees, and no lasting investment. A “peace” built on these terms would not end the conflict; it would simply postpone the next phase of it.
Applebaum’s concern, however, extends well beyond Ukraine. What this episode reveals, she argues, is a deeper corrosion of decision-making within the United States itself. Foreign policy begins to resemble a commercial transaction, shaped by individuals whose primary expertise lies in deal-making rather than statecraft. The critical question shifts from “What serves national and allied security?” to “Who stands to gain financially?”
This model closely mirrors the systems Applebaum has long studied in authoritarian states. In such systems, political power and economic power are fused. Diplomacy, business, and state authority become indistinguishable, and public institutions serve the enrichment of a narrow elite. Her warning is stark: when anticorruption laws are ignored and access to power can be purchased, democratic systems begin to function in ways that closely resemble those they once opposed.
The contrast with Ukraine itself is striking. Despite being at war, Ukraine maintains active anticorruption institutions that investigate even figures close to political leadership. These efforts persist because Ukrainians understand something fundamental: corruption is not only immoral, it is strategically dangerous. It weakens the state and makes it vulnerable to external coercion. In this respect, Ukraine often appears more committed to democratic self-correction than the country negotiating its future.
Europe, meanwhile, is adjusting to the realization that American leadership can no longer be assumed. Countries closest to Russia have increased defense spending and military cooperation, while broader European support for Ukraine continues to grow. Germany’s shift in strategic thinking is particularly significant. The war is accelerating Europe’s move toward greater responsibility for its own security.
Applebaum does not argue that the United States has lost all influence. But she makes clear that influence erodes when foreign policy is treated as an opportunity for profit rather than a public trust. A settlement shaped by private interests would weaken Ukraine, destabilize Europe, and further undermine confidence in democratic governance.
The lesson of her argument is ultimately straightforward. When the Ukraine war is viewed as an opportunity—for access, leverage, or financial gain—foreign policy ceases to serve the public. The cost is paid not only on the battlefield, but in damaged alliances, fragile peace, and the gradual erosion of democratic credibility itself.
About Anne Applebaum: Anne Applebaum is a Pulitzer Prize–winning historian and journalist, best known for her work on authoritarianism, Eastern Europe, and the legacy of Soviet power. She is a staff writer at The Atlantic and a senior fellow at Johns Hopkins University. Her books include Gulag: A History, Red Famine: Stalin’s War on Ukraine, and Autocracy, Inc., in which she examines how modern authoritarian systems merge political power with private wealth. Applebaum lives in both the United States and Poland and has written extensively on Ukraine, Russia, and the evolving crisis of democracy in the West.
