The Theater of Appeasement

A 30-day pause in bombing power plants. This is what passes for peace in the Trump-Putin era.

Vladimir Putin has “positively” responded to Trump's proposal by agreeing to halt strikes on Ukrainian energy infrastructure for 30 days. Notice what's absent from this magnanimous concession: any mention of civilian apartment buildings, hospitals, schools, or military operations. The bombing may continue—just not the power plants. For now.

This isn't diplomacy. It's theater—carefully choreographed to create the illusion of progress while changing nothing fundamental about Russia's invasion. The trappings of statesmanship without the substance of peace.

What makes this performance particularly cynical is how transparent the staging is. Putin reiterates his maximalist goals that would effectively end Ukraine's existence as an independent state in the same breath as agreeing to this superficial pause. The precondition for a real ceasefire? A “total end to foreign military support and intelligence sharing with Kyiv”—in other words, Ukraine's complete vulnerability and isolation.

Meanwhile, Trump has “placed heavy pressure on Zelenskyy to make concessions” while being “far less demanding of his Russian counterpart.” The choreography requires Ukraine to dance while Russia merely needs to gesture. One side makes concessions; the other makes demands disguised as compromises.

This is appeasement dressed as peacemaking—a performance designed not to prevent war but to normalize it. To make us accept that some bombing is acceptable, that Ukraine's sovereignty is negotiable, that peace means surrender by another name.

The most revealing aspect of this charade is the casual mention of ice hockey matches and “mutually beneficial partnerships in economics and energy” alongside discussions of war. When human lives and national sovereignty are treated as just another item on a transaction list—somewhere between energy deals and sporting events—we've entered a moral abyss disguised as pragmatism.

A Ukrainian official sees through the performance: “Putin wants war.” Yet the show continues, with “technical negotiations” and “expert groups” providing the bureaucratic veneer that makes aggression seem reasonable, conquest seem inevitable.

Two plus two equals four. There are twenty-four hours in a day. And a temporary pause in bombing power plants while continuing to bomb apartment buildings is not peace—it's merely intermission in a tragedy still unfolding.

The theater of appeasement asks us to applaud this performance, to mistake gesture for substance. But real peace requires more than theatrical gestures. It requires respecting sovereignty, withdrawing invading forces, and recognizing that a nation's right to exist isn't a bargaining chip.

Until then, we're just watching a show—one with a script written in Moscow and produced in Washington, with Ukrainians expected to play their assigned roles until the final curtain falls on their independence.

“The belief in the possibility of a short decisive war appears to be one of the most ancient and dangerous of human illusions." — Robert Wilson Lynd