While I am thankful for Steven Moore’s apparent support for Ukraine, I can’t let dishonesty by omission go unchecked. His recent article criticizing European hesitancy on Ukraine support reads well on its surface—calling out Belgium’s frozen Russian assets, Europe’s continued energy purchases from Moscow, and the political cowardice that keeps NATO more theoretical than operational. These critiques have merit. They deserve attention.
But Moore’s analysis contains a void so glaring it distorts everything around it: the complete absence of Donald Trump’s name in an article ostensibly about Western failure to support Ukraine. This isn’t mere oversight. It’s narrative engineering—the deliberate construction of an explanatory framework that feels comprehensive until you notice what it systematically excludes. And what Moore excludes is the most damaging voice shaping Ukraine’s strategic reality today.
Moore is hardly alone in this kind of narrative engineering. A similar pattern appears across a cluster of conservative-aligned commentators who routinely critique European or Ukrainian decision-making while rarely, if ever, publicly challenging the Republican leadership shaping U.S. policy. Figures such as J.P. Lindsley and Meagan Mobbs regularly emphasize Western “weakness” abroad, yet their commentary seldom addresses the congressional record at home—where roughly half of House Republicans voted against the April 2024 Ukraine aid package, and where GOP scorecards show wide variation and frequent opposition to continued assistance.
The result is a recurring analytical imbalance: responsibility is projected outward, while the domestic political power centers that materially determine whether Ukraine receives weapons, funding, and intelligence support remain largely unexamined.
Consider the symbolism Moore himself invokes: European leaders at Davos giving Zelenskyy a standing ovation after he called them “pathetic” and “worthless.” A fair critique of performative solidarity. But here’s what Moore won’t tell you: while Europe stood and clapped, Trump has rolled out the red carpet for the enemy—repeatedly, systematically, and with devastating consequences for Ukraine’s survival.
So I must ask: Who are you working for, Steven Moore? And why are you so reluctant to call out the most damaging voice in this war—Donald Trump?
The Legislative Record Moore Won’t Mention
Moore’s critique of European hesitancy is not without merit. Belgium’s frozen Russian assets, continued energy purchases from Moscow, and the political caution that keeps NATO more theoretical than operational all deserve scrutiny. But his analysis contains a void so large it distorts everything around it: the complete absence of Donald Trump and the Republican legislative record from a story about Western failure to support Ukraine.
The congressional scorecards tell a different story than Moore’s framing. According to the UA Mission Congressional tracking data, Democrats have voted almost uniformly in favor of Ukraine aid across major appropriations and support measures. Republicans have not. On the April 2024 supplemental package—the critical $61 billion aid authorization that kept Ukrainian defense viable—roughly half of House Republicans voted against continued assistance. The bill passed only because of Democratic votes.
Let that sink in. Moore writes an entire article condemning European political cowardice on Ukraine support while carefully avoiding the fact that his own political coalition has been one of the most consistent legislative chokepoints on Ukrainian aid. This isn’t ancient history—this is the documented voting record from the most consequential Ukraine assistance vote of 2024.
The Kiel Numbers: What “European Weakness” Looks Like in GDP Terms
Claims that Europe “isn’t doing enough” often rely on absolute euro totals while ignoring the metric that best captures political and economic burden: aid as a share of national GDP. The Kiel Institute’s Ukraine Support Tracker paints a more complex and, in many cases, more demanding picture of European commitment. (Note to reader: I’m obsessed with these datasets and built UAMission.com entirely because of it)
Several European states rank among the highest contributors in the world by GDP share, not just in Europe:
- Estonia: ~2.2% of GDP committed to Ukraine
- Denmark: ~2.1% of GDP
- Lithuania: ~1.8% of GDP
- Latvia: ~1.5% of GDP
- Finland: ~1.0% of GDP
- Sweden: ~0.9% of GDP
- Poland: ~0.8% of GDP
- Netherlands: ~0.8% of GDP
By contrast, several of Europe’s largest economies contribute far smaller shares of national output:
- Germany: ~0.4% of GDP
- France: ~0.2% of GDP
- Italy: ~0.1% of GDP
For additional context, the United States, while the single largest donor in absolute terms, ranks outside the global top tier by relative effort, contributing roughly ~0.5% of GDP.
Taken together, these figures complicate the narrative of a uniformly “hesitant” Europe. Smaller and frontline European states are devoting one to two percent of their entire economies to Ukraine’s defense—levels of relative commitment that exceed most large economies on both sides of the Atlantic.
This is why the debate cannot be reduced to headline totals alone. In proportional terms, much of Europe—especially the countries closest to Russia’s borders—is already operating at levels of economic commitment that reflect a wartime footing rather than symbolic support.
European hesitation does not exist in a vacuum. It responds to American political signals, and no signal carries more weight inside the Republican Party than Donald Trump’s repeated threats to cut aid, question NATO’s mutual defense guarantee, and treat Ukrainian sovereignty as negotiable. When half the Republican caucus votes against Ukraine assistance while Trump publicly calls Zelenskyy a “salesman” trying to “rip off” American taxpayers, European capitals hear that message loud and clear: American support is conditional, partisan, and potentially temporary.
Moore’s pattern of selective critique reveals the architecture of his analysis. He regularly criticizes:
- European political hesitation
- Conservative media narratives on Ukraine
- Ukraine’s messaging toward Republican audiences
- European energy dependence on Russia
- Frozen Russian assets not being seized
What Moore consistently avoids naming:
- Donald Trump’s role in shaping GOP foreign policy
- Trump’s public threats to withdraw aid entirely
- Trump’s rhetoric questioning NATO Article 5
- Trump-aligned opposition to sanctions and asset seizures
- Trump’s political gravity over Republican voting behavior
This is not neutral analysis—it is coalition maintenance. Moore offers structural and cultural critique while scrupulously avoiding personal accountability for the dominant political leader shaping those structures. He will critique European political culture, conservative media dynamics, even Ukrainian diplomatic strategy. But Trump’s name—the name that determines Republican legislative behavior more than any policy brief or think tank recommendation—remains conspicuously absent.
It is difficult to lecture European capitals about resolve while avoiding the congressional record at home, where Republican opposition—shaped by Trump’s dominance over party incentives—has repeatedly stalled or threatened the very aid Europe is being asked to match. Moore urges Europe to “get serious” while remaining silent about the fact that a large share of his own political party has voted repeatedly against the assistance he claims to support.
The Power Center Moore Won’t Name
Let’s establish what Moore’s article deliberately obscures: U.S. leadership isn’t merely important to Ukraine’s defense—it is structurally central to everything. European hesitancy, which Moore correctly identifies, doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It responds directly to American signals. When the U.S. president publicly praises Vladimir Putin, when he threatens to withdraw from NATO, when his envoys coordinate directly with sanctioned Russian operatives to draft “peace plans,” European risk calculus shifts accordingly.
Trump’s pattern of betrayal toward Ukraine spans his entire political career, a documented trajectory of undermining Ukrainian sovereignty that Moore’s article pretends doesn’t exist. In my investigation “Trump’s Pattern of Betrayal, Part Four,” I traced how Trump has consistently weakened U.S. support for Ukraine across multiple administrations—from his attempts to withhold military aid in 2019 (for which he was impeached) to his recent coordination with Steve Witkoff, a real estate developer with zero diplomatic credentials who consulted directly with Kirill Dmitriev, head of Russia’s Direct Investment Fund and a sanctioned Putin ally, to draft a 28-point “peace plan” that functionally surrenders Ukrainian territory to Russian occupation.
This isn’t speculation. This is documented pattern. As I reported in “The Breakdown of Russia’s Imperialist and Maximalist Demands,” the Witkoff plan wasn’t created with Ukraine, or with European allies, or with American diplomatic professionals. It was engineered with Russia’s bag man—a deliberate end-run around legitimate diplomatic channels that treats Ukrainian sovereignty as a bargaining chip in Trump’s transactional relationship with Putin.
Moore writes about Europe’s €93 billion loan to Ukraine being held up by French President Emmanuel Macron over concerns about funding American weapons. Fair enough. I was always leery and even mocking of the Macron bicep photos as my friends were fighting in Kupyansk. But he doesn’t mention that Trump has repeatedly threatened to cut off all U.S. military aid to Ukraine unless Kyiv accepts territorial concessions. He doesn’t mention Trump’s public statements at Davos—which I comprehensively documented in “Trump’s Davos Lies: A Complete Breakdown”—where he praised Putin’s “smart” invasion strategy and suggested Ukraine should simply negotiate its way out of genocide.
When Belgian Prime Minister Alexander De Croo says “We’re not at war with Russia,” Moore correctly identifies the absurdity—Putin’s drones have shut down Brussels airport three times, Russian forces have violated European airspace 36 times. But Moore won’t tell you this: Trump’s own rhetoric has normalized exactly this kind of European equivocation. When the American president publicly doubts NATO’s Article 5 guarantee, when he suggests Ukraine “provoked” the invasion, when he calls for an immediate ceasefire with no Russian accountability, European leaders hear permission to prioritize Russian energy profits over Ukrainian lives.
The Red Carpet and the Standing Ovation
Moore’s article trades in powerful imagery: European leaders giving Zelenskyy a standing ovation after he excoriated their weakness. Good theater, genuine hypocrisy. But let’s complete the picture.
While Europe stood and clapped in Davos, Trump was preparing to host Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov at the White House—the same Lavrov he welcomed in 2017 while barring American press but allowing Russian state media. While Europe applauded Zelenskyy’s condemnation of their cowardice, Trump was reportedly telling advisers that Ukraine “isn’t a real country” and suggesting Zelenskyy should accept Russia’s maximalist demands.
The standing ovation is performative. The red carpet is strategic surrender.
I’ve spent nearly four years in Ukraine documenting what American betrayal looks like in blood and rubble. I’ve photographed the aftermath of missile strikes in Kyiv, walked through the mass graves of Izyum where 447 bodies were exhumed (many showing signs of torture), interviewed survivors from Mariupol’s medieval siege where 25,000 civilians died. I’ve documented the filtration camps, the deportation of children, the systematic erasure of Ukrainian identity in occupied territories.
And through all of this, I’ve watched Trump’s rhetoric provide Moscow with the political cover it needs to continue the slaughter. As I documented in my analysis of Russia’s imperialist breakdown, Putin’s war strategy depends on Western political fracture. Trump delivers that fracture on command—questioning NATO, praising Putin’s “genius,” coordinating with Russian proxies on “peace plans” that reward conquest with legitimacy.
Moore wants readers focused on Belgium’s liquefied natural gas purchases funding 132 Russian drones per day. Absolutely worth criticizing. But Trump has spent years working to lift sanctions on Russian energy entirely, arguing that sanctions “hurt America” more than they hurt Russia. The pattern is documented in “The $58 Billion They Don’t Want You To Know About”—Trump’s sycophants in Congress and he consistent efforts to undermine the financial pressure that makes Ukrainian resistance possible.
Narrative Engineering and Strategic Reality
Narrative engineering is the construction of a seemingly comprehensive analysis that selectively omits the load-bearing political forces that determine outcomes. It’s what happens when you build an argument that feels thorough, evidence-rich, and morally clear—until you notice the architect has carefully excluded the elements that would collapse the entire structure.
Moore’s article is textbook narrative engineering. It performs elaborate analysis of European failures while systematically avoiding the American political leadership whose rhetoric and policy signals make European hedging strategically rational. By naming every actor except the one who dominates Republican foreign policy, Moore’s analysis explains consequences while protecting causes. Because here’s the brutal truth Moore won’t acknowledge: If European leaders believe the United States will abandon Ukraine the moment Trump decides a “deal” serves his political interests, then European hesitancy isn’t moral failure—it’s strategic realism.
When Trump publicly questions NATO’s mutual defense guarantee, Belgian officials hear: “American protection is conditional on Trump’s mood.” When Trump praises Putin while criticizing Zelenskyy, French defense planners hear: “U.S. support may evaporate mid-conflict.” When Trump’s envoy consults with sanctioned Russian operatives instead of NATO allies, German policymakers hear: “Washington is negotiating our security behind our backs.”
This is how American presidential rhetoric translates into tangible strategic effects. As I documented in “A Crime in Plain Sight: State Capture,” Trump’s pattern of behavior creates a permission structure for European backsliding. If the U.S. president treats Ukrainian sovereignty as negotiable, why should European leaders risk their political capital defending it?
Moore criticizes Europe for not seizing and using Russia’s frozen assets. Fair point. But he doesn’t mention that Trump has explicitly opposed using frozen Russian assets to fund Ukrainian defense, calling such moves “escalatory” and “unfair to Russia.” He doesn’t mention that Trump’s first administration worked actively to weaken sanctions enforcement, granting waivers to Turkey after it purchased Russian S-400 missiles and delaying Nord Stream 2 sanctions for months while treating them as bargaining chips with Germany.
The pattern is unmistakable: Trump consistently acts to protect Russian interests while undermining Ukrainian defense. Moore’s refusal to name this pattern isn’t neutral omission—it’s active misdirection.
What Zelenskyy Actually Said (And What It Means)
Moore quotes Zelenskyy’s Davos speech selectively, emphasizing the Ukrainian president’s criticism of European weakness. But let’s examine what Zelenskyy actually said—and what it reveals about the power dynamics Moore refuses to address.
Zelenskyy at Davos: “Right now, NATO exists thanks to the belief that the United States will act, that it will not stand aside and will help. But what if it doesn’t? Believe me, this question is everywhere in the minds of every European leader.”
There it is. Zelenskyy naming exactly what Moore’s article works so hard to avoid: The centrality of American commitment to everything. European hesitancy isn’t independent European moral failure—it’s conditioned response to American political signals.
Zelenskyy continued: “Europe loves to discuss the future, but avoids taking action today… always the backstop of President Trump is needed. And again, no security guarantees work without the US.”
Read that again. Zelenskyy, speaking to European leaders, explicitly stating that security architecture collapses without American commitment. This isn’t Ukrainian diplomatic nicety—it’s strategic reality. The United States provides 60% of NATO’s military capability. U.S. intelligence support has been decisive in Ukrainian battlefield success. American military aid dwarfs European contributions in absolute terms.
And Trump has repeatedly, publicly threatened to withdraw all of it.
Zelenskyy’s warning at Davos cuts directly to what Moore’s article works so hard to obscure: European confidence in NATO and Ukrainian security rests on belief in continued U.S. commitment. When that belief erodes—when Trump questions Article 5, praises Putin, coordinates with Russian operatives on “peace plans,” and his own party votes against aid—European hesitation becomes strategically rational. Doubt about American reliability is already shaping European decision-making. Moore criticizes the symptom while protecting the cause.
As Zelenskyy said in his follow-up remarks with Børge Brende: “Today, we met with President Trump and our team are working almost every day. It’s not simple. The documents aimed at ending this war are nearly ready… Russia must become ready to finish this war, to stop this aggression, Russian aggression, Russian war against us. So the pressure must be strong enough and the support for Ukraine must grow even stronger.”
Notice the conditional phrasing. Notice the emphasis on negotiation complexity. Notice the unspoken subtext: Zelenskyy is managing Trump’s volatility while trying to prevent American abandonment. This is the strategic reality Moore’s article erases—Ukraine’s president spending critical diplomatic capital not inspiring European courage, but preventing American betrayal.
The Legal Vacuum Trump Exploits
In “A Man Without a Mandate: The Legal Case That Steve Witkoff Cannot Lawfully Represent the United States—Or Ukraine,” I detailed how Trump’s use of Witkoff as special envoy violates multiple constitutional principles that exist specifically to prevent shadow diplomacy. Witkoff has no Senate confirmation, no diplomatic credentials, and demonstrable conflicts of interest through his real estate dealings with Russian-connected entities.
Yet Witkoff traveled to Moscow, met with Russian officials, and returned with a “peace framework” that—by sheer coincidence—mirrors Russian maximalist demands almost exactly. As I documented in my comprehensive analysis of Russia’s 28-point demand structure, the Witkoff plan includes:
- Ukrainian territorial concessions without Russian withdrawal
- Limitations on Ukrainian military capability
- Constraints on Ukrainian NATO membership
- Sanctions relief for Russian energy exports
- No accountability for Russian war crimes
This isn’t diplomacy. This is American political machinery being used to launder Russian imperialism into global legitimacy, with Ukrainian blood as the grease that turns the gears. Moore’s article pretends this isn’t happening. It critiques European politicians for “pathetic” weakness while ignoring that Trump’s envoy is actively negotiating Ukrainian surrender to war criminals.
Where Moore Gets It Right—And Why That Makes His Omissions Worse
Moore is at his strongest when he exposes the moral contradiction at the heart of this war: Ukraine is a deeply Christian society—one of Eastern Europe’s most vibrant faith communities—while Russia’s campaign has systematically targeted churches, evangelicals, and independent religious communities as security threats.
This is vital truth-telling that Western audiences, especially conservative Christian audiences, need to hear. Moscow claims to defend “Christian civilization” while conducting mass deportations, torture campaigns, and civilian targeting that destroys the very faith communities it claims to protect. Ukrainian Baptists, Pentecostals, Greek Catholics, and independent evangelical churches have faced persecution, property seizure, and violence under Russian occupation. Moore’s moral and cultural translation work on this dimension is credible and valuable.
But when Moore moves from moral advocacy into policy critique, his refusal to confront Republican leadership—especially Trump—undermines the credibility of his strategic analysis. You cannot effectively advocate for Ukraine’s defense while remaining silent about the political forces within your own coalition that have voted to defund that defense. You cannot credibly criticize European hesitation while avoiding the American political signals that make European hedging rational.
Moore has the platform, the audience, and the moral authority to challenge Trump’s betrayal of Ukraine from a position of shared ideological community. Conservative Christian voters who trust Moore’s analysis of Ukraine’s religious persecution might also trust his assessment of Trump’s strategic damage. Instead, Moore offers them elaborate critiques of Belgian energy policy and French loan conditions—important issues, certainly, but fundamentally secondary to the American political dynamics that determine whether Ukrainian defense remains viable.
This is the tragedy of Moore’s selective vision: He possesses real insight into Ukraine’s moral case and genuine understanding of why this war matters to Christian communities globally. But by protecting Trump from accountability while criticizing everyone else, Moore transforms that insight into a shield for the very forces undermining Ukraine’s survival.
The Question of Strategic Consequences
Moore’s article ends with Zelenskyy asking European business leaders to invest in Ukraine as a demonstration of faith in peace. Inspiring stuff. But let’s talk about what actually happens if U.S. commitment wavers—the scenario Trump’s behavior makes increasingly likely.
Without credible American security guarantees, Ukrainian resistance becomes militarily unsustainable. As I documented through battlefield analysis from liberated territories including Bucha, Izyum, Kharkiv and Kherson, Ukrainian forces have achieved tactical success through a combination of Western-supplied precision weapons, real-time intelligence sharing, and NATO-standard training. Remove American provision of ATACMS, HIMARS, Patriot systems, and intelligence support, and Ukraine’s defensive capability degrades rapidly.
European manufacturing capacity cannot replace American military production at the speed war demands. As I reported from Ukraine’s defense innovation ecosystem—including comprehensive coverage of the WINWIN Summit 2025 and Ukraine’s Brave1 technology accelerator—Ukrainian forces are pioneering drone warfare and electronic warfare systems that are revolutionary. But these innovations require Western components, funding streams, and technological partnership. Trump’s pattern of behavior threatens all of it.
The strategic calculus is brutal: If Trump forces Ukraine into a “peace deal” that leaves Russian forces occupying Ukrainian territory, Putin achieves through American political pressure what he couldn’t achieve through military force. Russia maintains territorial gains, rebuilds military capability under sanctions relief negotiated by Trump, and prepares for the next invasion—whether of the rest of Ukraine, Moldova, or the Baltic states.
As Fiona Hill (Trump’s former Russia advisor) warned in her testimony about Trump’s first impeachment: Putin’s domestic legitimacy depends on imperial expansion. A peace deal that rewards 2022’s invasion but leaves Russia weakened creates pressure for another war to restore prestige. The pattern isn’t peace through appeasement—it’s temporary pause before escalation.
The Question Moore Won’t Answer
So let me pose the question directly: If the most damaging voice shaping this war’s political terrain goes unnamed, one must ask—who, exactly, is being protected by this silence?
Moore’s article performs elaborate analysis of European failures while studiously avoiding the American president who has:
- Extorted Ukraine by withholding military aid (impeached for it)
- Publicly praised Putin’s invasion strategy as “genius” and “savvy”
- Questioned NATO’s Article 5 mutual defense guarantee repeatedly
- Coordinated with sanctioned Russian operatives on “peace plans”
- Threatened to withdraw all U.S. military aid unless Ukraine accepts territorial concessions
- Opposed using frozen Russian assets to fund Ukrainian defense
- Consistently worked to weaken sanctions enforcement
- Suggested Ukraine “provoked” Russian aggression
- Called Ukrainian President Zelenskyy a “salesman” trying to “rip off” the United States
This isn’t hypothetical. This is documented pattern across years of public statements and policy actions. As I detailed in my Trump betrayal series, this behavior pre-dates the 2022 invasion—it goes back to Trump’s 2016 campaign platform which explicitly included removing sanctions on Russia and recognizing Crimea’s annexation.
And yet Moore’s article, ostensibly about Western failure to adequately support Ukraine, mentions Trump exactly zero times. Not once. In over 1,500 words about allied weakness in confronting Russian aggression, the American president’s name doesn’t appear.
This isn’t journalism. This is protection. The question is: protection of what, and for whom?
What Happens If the U.S. Wavers: A Sober Assessment
Let me be clear about what’s at stake, stripped of partisan rhetoric and reduced to geopolitical mechanics:
NATO’s credibility disintegrates. If the United States abandons Ukraine—either through outright aid withdrawal or through forcing a “peace deal” that rewards Russian conquest—the Article 5 guarantee becomes meaningless. Why would Poland believe American protection is credible when Washington just traded Ukrainian territory for summit photographs? Why would the Baltic states trust American commitment when Trump just demonstrated it’s conditional on his personal assessment of whether a country’s defense is “worth it”?
Sanctions architecture collapses. The global sanctions regime against Russia is unprecedented in scope and represents the most sophisticated financial warfare campaign in history. But it requires American enforcement to maintain effectiveness. If Trump negotiates sanctions relief as part of a “peace deal”—which his advisers have already signaled—the entire structure becomes negotiable. Russia learns the lesson: Commit genocide, wait for American political change, negotiate your way back to legitimacy.
Nuclear proliferation accelerates. Ukraine surrendered the world’s third-largest nuclear arsenal in 1994 under the Budapest Memorandum, which guaranteed Ukrainian territorial integrity in exchange for denuclearization. Russia violated that guarantee in 2014 and shattered it completely in 2022. If the United States now abandons Ukraine to territorial concessions, the message to every non-nuclear state is clear: The only guarantor of sovereignty is nuclear weapons. This doesn’t merely risk proliferation—it incentivizes it as rational self-defense.
Russian revanchism is rewarded and enabled. As I documented in my analysis of Russia’s imperial breakdown, Putin’s regime is economically hollowed, demographically declining, and militarily degraded by Ukraine’s resistance. Russia is losing this war in slow motion—9,000 casualties per week, unsustainable equipment losses, strategic failures across every domain. But if Trump hands Putin a political victory that allows regime stabilization, Russia rebuilds and restarts the cycle. Moldova becomes the next target. Then Georgia again. Then the Baltics. The question becomes not if but when.
Chinese strategic calculations shift dramatically. Beijing is watching how the United States treats its security commitments. If Washington abandons Ukraine mid-conflict, Taiwan’s defense planning must assume American support is unreliable. Japan, South Korea, and the Philippines recalculate their security architecture. The entire Indo-Pacific alliance structure—built painstakingly over 75 years—becomes suspect. China learns the lesson: American commitments are conditional on American presidential whim. Test them accordingly.
This is what Moore’s silence protects. This is why the omission matters. Because European weakness, which Moore correctly identifies and condemns, is rational response to American signals that Ukraine’s survival is negotiable. Trump provides those signals daily through rhetoric, policy positions, and diplomatic back-channels that treat Ukrainian sovereignty as Trump family real estate—subject to the deal, contingent on the terms, available for the right price.
Conclusion: The Silence That Enables Slaughter
I opened this analysis by expressing gratitude for Moore’s apparent support for Ukraine. That gratitude is genuine but conditional: Support for Ukraine that doesn’t name the most destructive force working against Ukrainian survival isn’t really support—it’s performance that protects the very dynamics it claims to oppose.
Steven Moore’s article criticizes European politicians for applauding Zelenskyy while doing nothing. Fair enough. But Moore himself engages in the same performance: He writes a comprehensive critique of Western failure that conspicuously avoids naming the Western leader whose actions have done the most damage to Ukrainian defense, and whose political influence over Republican voting behavior has created one of the most significant legislative obstacles to continued assistance.
Europe gave Zelenskyy a standing ovation. Trump has repeatedly rolled out the red carpet for Putin. One is empty theater; the other is strategic betrayal. Moore sees the first and protects the second.
The legislative record is unambiguous: Democrats have voted almost uniformly for Ukraine aid; Republicans have split, with roughly half the caucus opposing critical assistance packages. Trump’s political gravity determines Republican behavior on Ukraine more than any policy analysis or strategic assessment. European capitals watch American congressional votes and hear Trump’s rhetoric about cutting aid, questioning NATO, praising Putin. They adjust their risk calculus accordingly.
Moore criticizes the European adjustment while protecting the American cause. This isn’t analysis—it’s coalition maintenance disguised as foreign policy critique.
I’ll close with the question that matters: If the most influential voice shaping Republican foreign policy goes unnamed in an analysis of Western failure to support Ukraine, readers are entitled to ask—who is being shielded by that silence, and what does that silence cost in Ukrainian lives?
This isn’t hypothetical. This is the question European leaders are asking themselves right now, the question that drives their hesitancy, the question that makes their standing ovation for Zelenskyy so hollow. They’re standing and applauding because they know American protection might evaporate the moment Trump decides Ukrainian defense interferes with his Moscow summit ambitions or his domestic political calculations.
I’ve spent four years documenting this war in Ukraine. I’ve photographed the aftermath of Russian war crimes in Bucha, Izyum, Kharkiv Kherson, and dozens of cities and villages across Ukraine. I’ve interviewed torture survivors, documented filtration camps, recorded testimony from defenders subjected to systematic abuse in Russian captivity. I’ve watched 1,000 Ukrainians die per week while Trump suggests Zelenskyy is “ripping off” American taxpayers and Republican members of Congress vote against the aid that keeps Ukrainian defense viable.
So yes, Europe’s weakness matters. Belgium’s frozen assets matter. French delays on loans matter. All of it matters, and Moore is right to call it out.
But the most damaging forces aren’t in Brussels or Paris or Berlin. They’re in Washington—in Trump’s repeated threats to abandon Ukraine, in Republican legislative opposition to aid packages, in American political signals that make European hesitation strategically rational rather than morally indefensible.
That’s what Moore won’t name. That’s the silence that shapes this war. That’s the dishonesty by omission I can’t let stand.
If we’re serious about supporting Ukraine, we name the threat accurately. All of it. Even—especially—when the greatest threat to Ukrainian survival operates within our own political coalition and shapes legislative behavior through personal influence rather than policy argument.
European weakness is real. Republican legislative opposition is documented. Trump’s betrayal is worse than both. One is failure of courage, one is partisan calculation, and one is active collaboration with evil.
Moore sees the first, records the second in silence, and protects the third.
That’s the question I’m asking. That’s the question Moore needs to answer. That’s the question every reader should be demanding as they watch American policy toward Ukraine take shape under political forces that have demonstrated, through both rhetoric and votes, that Ukrainian sovereignty is negotiable and Russian appeasement is preferable to sustained resistance.
Who is being protected by Steven Moore’s silence about Trump and Republican legislative opposition? And what does that protection cost—in Ukrainian blood, in eroded deterrence, in emboldened autocracy, in the slow-motion collapse of the security architecture that has prevented major power war for eighty years?