For all its grandiose perversions and proclamations of unwavering support, the United States' foreign policy has always been a consequence of pragmatism first, rather than principle. The recent shift in its stance towards Ukraine, from impassioned advocacy to a more calculated, almost fatigued realism, simply reflects this long-standing legacy. But to define this change as a mere policy revision as far as geopolitical interests are concerned would be reductionist in nature because it ignores the deeper cultural innuendoes that shape the American public’s decision-making. Rather, it takes a far more nefarious–and frankly more ironic– dimension at the intersection of policy, public sentiment, and the historical memory that governs how the United States of America perceives its allies.
Realignment or Retreat?
In the early days of the Russian invasion, Washington's response was swift, its rhetoric swimming with the vengeance of a perturbed lion. Ukraine was not just a nation under siege, but a new chapter in the Western liberal democratic order’s moral saga, with NATO making it a personal mission to subdue Russian dominance at all costs. Such is the hunger for power.
As aid flooded in, sanctions multiplied, and the White House portrayed itself in all its charitable light, it appeared as if Ukraine had become, after all, the new proxy ground for “democratic resilience” against authoritarian aggression. Russia was the bad guy, just like every other Soviet mentioned in history, and to defend its victims was the smartest opportunity the West had at reinstating its hegemony in the world order. Almost as if they learned nothing from the sham of a job that was Afghanistan.
However, as the conflict dragged on, the patience of the American policymakers and the public waned just as quickly. How long could they possibly keep up with the savior complex, this irresistible urge to protect all human rights as long as they did not encroach on the wisdom that is the American sanctity and hunger for control? This is exactly what came forward with Zelenskyy’s recent visit to Washington. What was supposed to be a mineral deal turned into a public spat about whether the generosity of the United States was being met with equal gratitude, the tantrum-like approach Trump takes in most of his meetings (and the privilege of being able to do so as the head of the US), and attempted interjections by Vance on the Ukrainian President’s attitude as far as Russia was concerned…
What was certainly more entertaining was the kind of questions asked in the Oval. One remains memorable: “Why don’t you wear a suit?” A question that is expected of the smug arrogance of the American media, one swimming in geopolitical dishonesty, and the untouchable recklessness that doesn’t quite go unnoticed. What was once a sacred commitment now lives as a bargaining chip. Some view it as a strategic shift, others as a slow-motion betrayal. The truth lies somewhere in between.
America’s Cultural Myopia: Short Attention Spans and Shifting Narratives
Americans–despite their cinematic obsession with war epics–tend to have a notoriously short attention span when it comes to actual conflicts. Vietnam had its silent majority withdrawal syndrome, Afghanistan had an abrupt end, Gaza (now Trump Gaza) drowned in a tradition of genocide denialism, and now Ukraine, it seems, is heading toward a similar fate–dressed in strategic reassessment, a habitual ad verbosity of foreign politics.
The question remains: why does this passion fade so quickly? The answer lies partly in cultural storytelling. Wars require clear protagonists and villains, a hallmark of the simplicity that neatly aligns with the American perception. As military campaigns become entangled and victories seem unclear, narratives shift. Ukraine now faces a complex portrayal, one where Western fatigue, economic constraints, and long-term military engagement mitigate enthusiasm.
Cynical Realignment or End of Illusion?
Does this policy shift signal a grand betrayal of Ukraine? Not necessarily. It does signal the reality facing Washington, where it ceases to cling to its early-war idealism in favor of a more measured approach. The tragedy for Ukraine is that this policy transition coincides with a moment of critical vulnerability. The tragedy for the United States is that, yet again, its moral commitments are only as long as strategic convenience allows.
The US leaves a dangerous global perception: when the winds of policy shift, its allies are left alone to adjust their sails.
Photo Credit:
[Header]: Jorge Silva | Reuters
[Embedded 1]: Atlantic Council
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