Paris in January 1973. Doha in February 2000. Saudi Arabia in February 2025 — all peacemaking summits with the same aroma and feel. But there are key differences before we assume the stage is simply being set for another American episode of "cut and run."
After years of promising never to abandon its close ally, Washington did just that with South Vietnam in Paris and the government of Afghanistan in Doha. In both wars, the U.S. had spent years of blood and treasure propping up its ally. In both "peace" processes — because a just peace was not the outcome — the ally was not even present as Washington negotiated the terms and set the pace of its exit, despite its prior investment.
The war in Vietnam cost America 58,000 lives and an estimated $1 trillion in today’s money. Afghanistan cost $2 trillion over 20 years, or $300 million per day, and resulted in 3,468 coalition military and 3,917 contractor deaths. This pales in comparison to the extent of local casualties: 600,000 excess deaths in Iraq, 170,000 in Afghanistan, and 3.4 million during America’s phase of the war in Vietnam — if nothing else, an indicator of commitment on both sides.
So far, the war in Ukraine has cost, by Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky’s recent admission, 43,000 military deaths and 198,000 wounded. Russian casualties are estimated at over 800,000, with perhaps a quarter of that number killed. International assistance to Ukraine has topped 267 billion euros, or 90 billion euros annually — without counting the hundreds of billions in physical destruction and expected reconstruction costs.
In Paris and Doha, the American administration agreed to terms and a timetable to leave the country. There were side assurances to their allies — a nudge and a wink to stay the course.
Biden made a similar pledge to Ukraine. "You remind us that freedom is priceless; it’s worth fighting for as long as it takes. And that’s how long we’re going to be with you, Mr. President: for as long as it takes," he told Zelensky in Kyiv on the first anniversary of Russia’s full-scale invasion in February 2023.
In a Truth Social post on Feb. 19, President Donald Trump said: "A modestly successful comedian … A Dictator without Elections, Zelenskyy better move fast or he is not going to have a Country left. In the meantime, we are successfully negotiating an end to the War with Russia, something all admit only 'TRUMP' and the Trump Administration can do. Biden never tried, Europe has failed to bring Peace, and Zelenskyy probably wants to keep the 'gravy train' going. I love Ukraine, but Zelenskyy has done a terrible job, his Country is shattered, and MILLIONS have unnecessarily died…"
Some of Sheehan’s "bright, shining lies," employed by four American administrations from Dwight Eisenhower to Richard Nixon — including Nixon’s "secret" bombing of Cambodia, which was, of course, no secret if you were Cambodian or Vietnamese — would be harder to sustain today, given the relative transparency of modern media. But such lies may now be bolstered by "fake news" narratives.
As the Afghanistan Papers, published in 2019, showed, the tendency of U.S. presidential administrations to mislead the American people, and of military officers to go along with failing strategies due to a misplaced "can-do" attitude, seems to be an enduring feature. What also has not changed is the marginalization of the real victims of war — both foreign and American — and the way leaders default to ducking responsibility.
Trump may just be crudely (as is his wont) trying to publicly bully Zelensky into compliance. But this is likely to be a difficult journey, and Trump does not have all the keys. Several traps lie ahead.

The first is in his mistake of sidelining Europe, particularly Turkey. Ukraine’s geographic position and size as the second-largest country on the European mainland (after Russia) put it at the heart of European security. Unlike Vietnam or Afghanistan — where support relied on a flaky domino theory — Ukraine's fate has direct implications for the continent.
A second mistake is to overstate American power. While the U.S. military remains the steel backbone of NATO, this is not the Western alliance at Munich in 1938, another ominous parallel that has been replayed. Contrary to his arithmetic, European aid to Ukraine now outstrips that of the United States. Moreover, these figures need to be disaggregated to provide perspective beyond social media hyperbole: Around half of donor support goes to military assistance (much of which is spent by the donors themselves), 44% to financial support, and 7% to humanitarian aid.
Relative to the likely costs of Ukrainian collapse, the investment is small — so far, too small to stop Russia. Germany, the U.K., and the U.S. have mobilized less than 0.2% of their GDP per year to support Ukraine, while countries like France, Italy, and Spain allocated just 0.1%, according to the Kiel Institute for the World Economy’s Ukraine Support Tracker.
"Even small domestic policy priorities are many times more expensive than what is being done for Ukraine," notes Kiel. Germany’s tax subsidies for diesel fuel cost taxpayers three times more per year than Germany’s military aid for Ukraine.
Other calculations have Ukraine itself already covering 55% of the war's costs, with Europe and other non-U.S. sources contributing 25%, and Washington 20%. If the U.S. pulls back, that 20% will need to be shared among other players—and at least doubled. The potential disconnection of Starlink is more problematic, but at least financially, Europe could compensate.
The most notable difference between Ukraine and Afghanistan or South Vietnam is the will to fight. America is not fighting in Ukraine as it did in Afghanistan and Vietnam — it is enabling defense.
There is no doubting the Ukrainian will to fight. This was epitomized early on by Zelensky’s now-famous reply — starkly contrasting with Afghan President Ashraf Ghani’s weakness in Kabul — to an offer of evacuation: "I need ammunition, not a ride."
The lesson of Afghanistan—for Afghans and the other allies and coalition partners of the United States—was the same as for the South Vietnamese in 1975: Don’t trust Washington. America is too big and too self-centered, and as a result, it excludes its allies from its innermost strategic discussions. The fact that allies were never privy to the side deals struck by U.S. negotiator Zalmay Khalilzad with the Taliban is a case in point, just as the South Vietnamese were cut out of Henry Kissinger’s deal-making with Hanoi.
The vagaries of Western support and the population’s tendency toward self-regard pose a significant handicap in foreign policy, especially in terms of stamina. The more unreliable Western support becomes, the greater the political pressures within Ukraine. While this may have a galvanizing effect on the military and peace process, it threatens to fracture Ukraine's domestic political unity — the opposite of what Western supporters desire.
Western support for Ukraine is not about charity. It’s about upholding international law, protecting democracy, and preventing Russian President Vladimir Putin from resurrecting the Soviet system of brutal imperial rule.
America’s “image” abroad had “changed from liberator to great disruptor to a landlord seeking rent.”
Trump’s exaggerated language about Ukraine will not be without consequences. It will cost the free world’s respect. This is precisely the opposite of the goal the president seeks. It will undermine the perception of American reliability and the principles of mutual benefit.
As Singapore’s defense minister Ng Eng Hen put it at the recent Munich Security Conference, America’s “image” abroad had “changed from liberator to great disruptor to a landlord seeking rent.” It undermines long-held principles of international relations, such as sovereignty, from which a slew of other conflicts — particularly in Africa with its arbitrary and weak borders — could well arise. It could also catalyze a new arms race, especially for nuclear weapons, as nonproliferation, another post-1945 tenet, is now under threat.
This process can only accelerate if Trump’s actions lead to the collapse of the transatlantic relationship, as represented in NATO, which would suit Putin perfectly. It would also contradict efforts to strengthen international systems that hold governments accountable for war crimes by effectively shutting down legal proceedings against Russian forces. Washington’s early moves — including its refusal to use the term “war of aggression” in the G7 statement — suggest it is intent on closing down the war crimes issue.
While Trump likes to believe that he alone can make a deal, Washington may discover that, based on current trends, Putin is as determined to take over Ukraine as the Taliban were in Afghanistan or Hanoi was with South Vietnam.
As such, the West might end up, if Ukraine were to implode, with the worst of all worlds: an alienated and emboldened Russia, and a seething, anti-Western Ukraine forced back within a neo-Soviet fold. The war would likely enter a new, unconventional phase. Ukrainians have learned bitter lessons about entrusting their security to Moscow.
Whatever Trump may wish to believe in his quest for a deal, the Western way of life — democracy, liberal policy, and the freedom of personal choice — would be imperiled if Ukraine falls. If that were to happen as a consequence of his actions (or inaction), Trump would have placed himself firmly on the wrong side of history.
Editor’s Note: The opinions expressed in the op-ed section are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Kyiv Independent.
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