In a debate that cuts through the usual diplomatic platitudes, Tim Mak and his co-author Steven Moore confront a brutal reality: the question is no longer whether the United States will mediate the war in Ukraine, but whether the current administration in Washington can be trusted to do so justly. This piece stands out because it refuses to treat the White House as a neutral arbiter, instead dissecting the specific incentives driving the executive branch toward a deal that may prioritize personal enrichment over the lives of civilians. For a reader tracking the shifting tides of global power, Mak's insistence that "the U.S. peace process... is to my mind an ego-driven venture" demands immediate attention.
The Architecture of Betrayal
Mak opens his argument with a stark assessment of the administration's motives, stripping away the veneer of diplomacy to reveal what he sees as a transactional approach to human suffering. He writes, "The White House put out a National Security Strategy that was outright hostile towards Europe and made outrageous demands of the countries that ought to be our allies." This framing is crucial because it shifts the focus from military strategy to the moral hazard of engaging with a mediator who has already signaled a lack of commitment to the alliance structure that protects Ukraine.
The core of Mak's position is that the administration's hostility toward Europe and its silence on Russian atrocities make it an impossible partner for a just peace. He argues that the current process is "an unserious process of coercion by unknowledgeable men" driven by a desire for accolades rather than justice. This is a heavy charge, suggesting that the very mechanism intended to end the war is designed to fail the victims of it. Critics might note that dismissing the entire executive branch as "unknowledgeable" risks underestimating the complex bureaucratic machinery that still operates within the Pentagon and State Department, regardless of the President's personal views. However, Mak's point remains potent: if the top-level strategy is hostile, the machinery is likely to be weaponized against Ukrainian interests.
"They are interested first and foremost in personal financial enrichment and accolades — not justice, and not a lasting peace."
Mak further complicates the picture by pointing to the administration's potential business dealings with Russia, noting that the "Trump administration and its allies have already begun working behind the scenes to set up a reintegration of Russian energy companies with the world economy." This creates a direct conflict of interest that undermines any claim to neutrality. If the mediator stands to profit from the reintegration of the aggressor's economy, the incentive to hold that aggressor accountable evaporates. The argument here is that financial entanglement is a more powerful motivator than diplomatic rhetoric.
The Pragmatist's Counter-Argument
Steven Moore, arguing for the viability of the current administration as a mediator, takes a different tack. He acknowledges the administration's flaws but argues that "giving up is not a great strategy" when the alternative is a total loss of leverage. Moore's central thesis is that the sheer scale of American military power makes the White House indispensable, regardless of its leadership's temperament. He notes, "The US defense budget is 62% more than that of every European NATO country combined... Ukraine is not in a position to give up on 60% of NATO arms."
Moore's argument relies heavily on historical precedent, drawing a parallel to World War II to illustrate the necessity of enduring difficult allies. He references the efforts of Pamela Harriman, who, despite the personal cost to her family, worked tirelessly to influence American policy to support Britain. "Winston Churchill was so committed to getting US weapons for Great Britain that he encouraged his 20 year old daughter-in-law Pamela to have affairs with US generals and diplomats... Pamela's efforts were integral in bringing the US into the war," Moore writes. This historical lens suggests that patience and persistence, rather than withdrawal, are the only viable paths forward.
However, this comparison overlooks a critical distinction: in World War II, the United States was an emerging superpower with a clear strategic interest in defeating a common enemy, whereas the current administration appears to view the conflict through a lens of transactional isolationism. While Moore correctly identifies that "Europe seems unable to act in its own interest, let alone Kyiv's," his faith that the administration will eventually "do the right thing" after exhausting other options feels optimistic given the explicit hostility Mak describes. The human cost of waiting for a reluctant ally to change its mind is measured in continued shelling and civilian casualties.
The European Dilemma and the Energy Trap
Both authors converge on a painful truth: Europe's dependency on Russian energy is a strategic vulnerability that the current administration is exploiting. Moore points out the hypocrisy of European nations, noting that "Every day, Belgium purchases enough LNG from Russia to pay for 71 Shahed drones." This statistic is a stark reminder that the war is being funded, in part, by the very nations claiming to support Ukraine. The administration's potential to cut off this revenue stream or, conversely, to facilitate it for profit, places it in a position of immense power.
Mak counters that a sudden cutoff of Russian energy would spike prices and alienate voters, creating a political crisis for European leaders. He suggests that the administration's strategy of "European withdrawal" rather than "new European entrenchment" is a recipe for disaster. "I don't see him as a reliable or even useful mediator in this conflict," Mak states, emphasizing that the administration's business interests align with the aggressor. This tension between immediate political survival in Europe and the long-term goal of defeating Russian aggression is the crux of the debate.
The argument here is that the administration's leverage is a double-edged sword. While it can force a deal, the terms of that deal may be dictated by the desire to restore Russian energy markets rather than to secure Ukrainian sovereignty. As Mak puts it, "Trump shouldn't be rewarded for laundering Russia's demands through American foreign policy." This is a compelling warning that the mediation process could become a mechanism for legitimizing the fruits of conquest.
"There is nothing we can do about Trump and the Republicans is code for 'I don't know what to do about Trump and the Republicans.'"
Moore pushes back against the idea of withdrawal, arguing that "All they would be doing in the attempt is giving up all influence inside the White House." He believes that engaging with the administration, even a hostile one, is the only way to ensure that Ukraine receives the necessary support. He cites the growing support for Ukraine among Republican voters as evidence that the strategy is working. "More of Trump's voters support aid to Ukraine now than at any time since the fall of 2022," he notes. This suggests that the grassroots level may be more receptive to Ukrainian interests than the executive branch leadership, creating a potential path for change from the bottom up.
Bottom Line
The strongest part of this debate is its refusal to accept the status quo; both authors agree that the current trajectory is unsustainable, even if they disagree on the solution. Mak's warning about the administration's financial conflicts of interest is a critical, often overlooked vulnerability in the peace process that could undermine any agreement reached. However, the argument's biggest vulnerability lies in the assumption that Europe can or will act as a viable alternative mediator in the short term, given its current energy dependencies and political fragmentation. The reader should watch for whether the administration's business deals with Russia materialize, as this will be the ultimate test of whether the White House can be a neutral mediator or merely a broker of a new, unjust status quo.