The Fine Art of Helping Yourself While Pretending to Help Others: A Lesson in Ukrainian Diplomacy

The Fine Art of Helping Yourself While Pretending to Help Others: A Lesson in Ukrainian Diplomacy
Photo by Tim Scalzo / Unsplash

Ah, Ukraine. That plucky little country that just keeps refusing to roll over and let itself be plundered like a well-stocked general store in a town with no sheriff. You have to admire their spirit—so much so that you’d almost forget that the so-called champions of democracy, the self-proclaimed protectors of freedom, are circling overhead like buzzards eyeing a wounded mule.

Now, if you’ve been paying attention, you’ll know that Ukraine is currently caught between two suitors, both with rather heavy hands. On one side, we have Russia, ever the romantic, whispering sweet nothings like, “Give us your land, your industries, and your dignity, and in return, we promise… well, nothing, actually.” A straightforward transaction if there ever was one.

On the other side, we have the United States, gallantly extending a helping hand—so long as Ukraine understands that “help” comes with a bill attached. And leading the charge, with all the grace of a snake oil salesman at a county fair, is none other than Donald J. Trump, who suggests that perhaps Ukraine should simply hand over its mineral rights to the U.S. in exchange for some good old-fashioned military aid. Generous, isn’t he? Nothing says “ally” quite like a proposition that translates to, “We’ll keep you from dying today, but we’d like the deed to your house in return."

Yes, folks, it’s a tale as old as time: A nation in distress, a wealthy benefactor offering assistance, and a deal so lopsided it might as well be a seesaw with a boulder on one end and a feather on the other.

The Trump Doctrine: Aid, But Make It Business

Mr. Trump, a man who has never met a deal he couldn’t twist to his own advantage, has a novel idea for Ukraine: If they want American weapons to fend off Russian tanks, then surely it’s only fair that the United States gets a little something in return. Just a small token of appreciation, like control over Ukraine’s lithium, titanium, and rare earth minerals—the very lifeblood of future industry. After all, what are friends for if not to squeeze you when you’re at your weakest?

One might expect that when a country is being bombed, invaded, and systematically dismantled, its allies would provide aid out of principle. But why operate on principle when you can operate on profit?

Trump’s proposal suggests that Ukraine’s struggle for survival is not a fight for sovereignty, democracy, or freedom—it’s an auction, and the highest bidder gets to walk away with a pocket full of precious metals. Imagine the relief the Ukrainian people must feel knowing that their nation’s future is being secured, not by their own resilience or international solidarity, but by a real estate mogul who never saw a property he didn’t want to slap his name on.

The Russian Parallel: The Art of Taking Without Asking

Now, if all of this seems uncomfortably similar to what Russia is doing—seizing land, industries, and resources—congratulations, you have an eye for irony. The only real difference is that Russia prefers tanks over contracts. Where Russia marches in with guns, the U.S., under Trump’s vision, simply shows up with a handshake and a pen, ready to sign over Ukraine’s future. The goal, however, remains the same: Ukraine must pay a price for survival, and whether that price is measured in land or minerals, it is still a shakedown.

The logic is impeccable: Russia says, “Give us your territory, and maybe we’ll stop killing you.” Trump says, “Give us your minerals, and maybe we’ll keep you from getting killed.” Ukraine, meanwhile, must be wondering if there’s an option C, something along the lines of, “How about you help us because it’s the right thing to do?” But alas, morality rarely holds as much weight as a well-negotiated contract.

The Cost of “Peace”: A Lesson in Global Extortion

Let us reflect, for a moment, on what “peace” looks like in this scenario. According to Russia, peace is when Ukraine surrenders its land and ceases to exist as an independent nation. According to Trump, peace is when Ukraine surrenders its economic sovereignty and becomes a glorified mining colony.

Both options, you’ll note, involve Ukraine giving up something vital—either its territory or its resources. But let’s not dwell on such details. Surely, there must be some comfort in knowing that while Russia is plundering Ukraine the old-fashioned way, the U.S. is at least giving them the courtesy of pretending it’s a fair deal.

Ukraine’s leaders might have naively believed that their fight for freedom would be met with unconditional support from their allies. But no, that would be too simple. Instead, they are learning an important lesson in international relations: No good crisis goes unmonetized.

If Ukraine wants to defend itself, it must pay tribute. And if that tribute isn’t in the form of land, well, surely a few trillion dollars’ worth of minerals will do. After all, what’s sovereignty when there are business interests to be considered?

The Final Irony: America’s Love for Freedom, at the Right Price

The United States has long positioned itself as a champion of freedom and democracy. But there’s an asterisk next to that promise, a little fine print that reads, “Terms and conditions may apply.” And under the Trump doctrine, those conditions are simple: You can have our weapons, but don’t expect to walk away with your economy intact.

Ukraine, it seems, is faced with a terrible choice: Be devoured by Russia or be bled dry by its so-called allies. Either way, the result is the same: a country stripped of its future, forced to pay an impossible price for the simple right to exist.

And so, as the world watches, we find ourselves in a familiar story—one where the powerful carve up the weak, justifying their actions with grand speeches about peace, security, and mutual benefit. Ukraine may have hoped for real allies, but what they got instead were competing racketeers, one demanding their land, the other demanding their wealth.

If there is a lesson to be learned here, it is this: The only thing more dangerous than an enemy with a gun is a friend with a contract. And in the end, Ukraine may find that the cost of survival is almost as high as the cost of defeat.

Julie Bolejack, MBA

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