The failed meeting between former U.S. President Donald Trump and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky is not merely a political episode but a case study in competing visions of international relations. At its core, the encounter highlighted the tension between realist pragmatism and liberal idealism, revealing the extent to which foreign policy is shaped not only by power struggles but also by identity, perception, and narrative. Understanding this failure requires an exploration of the theoretical foundations that underpin the foreign policy strategies of both leaders—Trump’s reliance on a synthesis of classical, structural, and constructivist realism, and Zelensky’s commitment to liberal internationalism as a guiding principle for Ukraine’s survival.
The Realist Tradition: From Classical to Structural and Constructivist
Since Thucydides, realism has been the dominant paradigm for understanding international relations. It assumes that states operate in an anarchic world, where power and survival dictate behavior. Classical realists like Hans Morgenthau and Niccolò Machiavelli argue that humans—and by extension, states—are driven by an insatiable quest for power. Foreign policy, they contend, is dictated by interests, not morality, and the international arena is a relentless struggle for influence and dominance.
Expanding on this tradition, structural realists (or neorealists) such as Kenneth Waltz and John Mearsheimer shift the focus from human nature to the structure of the international system itself. They argue that international anarchy compels states to compete, not because of innate aggression, but because survival demands it. In this view, alliances and cooperation are temporary and fragile, as each state ultimately prioritizes its own security.
Yet, realism has evolved further. Constructivist realists like Randall Schweller and Ted Hopf contend that power is not merely material—measured in tanks, GDP, or nuclear arsenals—but also socially constructed, shaped by identity, perception, and historical narratives. States do not respond only to objective threats; they respond to how they perceive those threats.
For example, Britain possesses nuclear weapons, yet Israel does not see it as a threat. Iran, on the other hand, is viewed as an existential danger. This difference is not dictated by military capability alone but by the way each actor constructs its national identity and strategic worldview. The implication is clear: understanding foreign policy requires not just analyzing power balances but also the cultural, ideological, and psychological frameworks through which states interpret the world.
The Liberal Response: Institutions, Norms, and Democratic Alliances
Opposing realism, liberal internationalism, as articulated by John Locke, Immanuel Kant, and Woodrow Wilson, suggests that the global order is not condemned to perpetual power struggles. Instead, institutions, economic integration, and democratic norms can foster stability and cooperation. Wilson’s League of Nations embodied this vision, promoting the idea that international institutions could restrain military aggression and create a more rules-based global system.
This philosophy underpins organizations such as the EU, NATO, and the UN, which operate on the assumption that security is best preserved not through sheer force but through collective governance, diplomatic engagement, and shared economic interests. According to liberal thought, democracies are less likely to wage war against each other (Democratic Peace Theory), and fostering international norms can reduce the likelihood of conflict.
Zelensky subscribes to this worldview. For him, Ukraine’s war is not just about territorial integrity but about preserving democracy itself. He does not frame the conflict in terms of power politics alone but as a moral struggle between autocracy and liberal values. He rejects the classical realist notion that every state must ultimately fend for itself, insisting instead that the West has a moral duty to stand with Ukraine, not because it is convenient, but because it is right.
From this perspective, an American withdrawal would be a betrayal of the fundamental principles that bind the liberal world order. For Zelensky, the battle for Ukraine is not just a national struggle—it is a test of whether the Western alliance still upholds its founding ideals.
Trump’s Foreign Policy: A Fusion of Realist Approaches
In stark contrast, Trump operates within a framework that blends classical, structural, and constructivist realism, while simultaneously demanding greater European responsibility.
From a structural realist perspective, Trump sees international anarchy as an unavoidable force that compels states to fend for themselves. For him, Ukraine is not a core American interest, but a European issue, and as such, it is Europe that should bear the security burden, rather than relying on U.S. funding.
Yet his approach goes beyond structural realism. From a constructivist realist perspective, Trump understands that power is not just about military might but also about perception and status. He believes that if America continues to finance Ukraine’s war, it undermines its ability to serve as a neutral mediator. In this view, American influence is best preserved not by entangling itself in endless wars but by shaping the international system through economic leverage, diplomatic maneuvering, and controlled strategic ambiguity.
Thus, Trump’s strategy aligns with his broader vision of American foreign policy: securing dominance while minimizing direct costs. He does not outright reject values, but he prioritizes America’s role as an independent power over its role as a patron of a liberal world order. His goal is to maintain U.S. hegemony, but on terms that do not require Washington to bankroll the security of others indefinitely.
The Paradox of Trump's Approach
This strategy, however, presents an inherent paradox. Trump envisions the U.S. as the global leader but refuses to bear the financial burden of that leadership. He seeks to reduce military commitments while maintaining diplomatic leverage and credible deterrence. And ultimately, to be seen as a neutral negotiator and uphold his self-image as a master dealmaker, he must cut U.S. financial support for Ukraine—otherwise, he cannot claim to be an impartial mediator.
Why the Meeting Was Doomed to Fail
Given these dynamics, the meeting between Trump and Zelensky was destined for failure. Trump sought to halt American aid and force Europe to take financial responsibility for the war, while Zelensky saw this as not just an abandonment of Ukraine but of democracy itself. Trump’s objective was to prevent escalation into a larger global conflict, whereas Zelensky’s priority was to ensure continued Western commitment to the Ukrainian cause.
At its core, this conflict was not merely about geopolitics but about competing visions of the world order. Zelensky represents a belief in a rules-based system of collective security, while Trump sees a world governed by raw interests, shifting alliances, and calculated leverage.
Whether Trump’s approach represents a necessary recalibration of American foreign policy or a dangerous retreat from global responsibility remains an open question. But one thing is certain: as long as these two worldviews collide, the fate of Ukraine—and the broader international order—will remain uncertain.
I cannot read minds, but I doubt that Zelensky was focused on geopolitical philosophy. He and most Ukrainians are probably concerned more about their nation being wiped off the map by a country that: does not acknowledge Ukraine as an independent, sovereign polity; tends to gobble up bits and pieces of neighboring countries; occupies about 12.7% of the earth's landmass outside of Antarctica.
I am no fan of Ukraine. My great-grandparents fled pogroms there in the early 20th century. But someone must be willing to stand up to Russia, draw a line, and state: "Thus far, but no farther. 12.7% of the earth is enough for one country."