Ana Palacio
The just-concluded talks among representatives of the United States, Russia, and Ukraine in the United Arab Emirates to end Russia’s war in Ukraine finished, no surprise, virtually where they began. But the latest effort might shed light on how the US is thinking about Russia’s place in the international system – in particular, what a postwar bilateral relationship might look like. Like much of US President Donald Trump’s foreign policy, this vision appears to be defined by commercial considerations. Trump’s willingness to put aside human rights or respect for the rule of law in his quest to strike business deals from Pakistan to the Gulf states might look like realpolitik, but Trump’s transactional approach should not be mistaken for realism.
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Whereas a realist foreign policy accounts for constraints, power dynamics, and long-term interests, a transactional approach reduces international politics to a patchwork of narrow bargains. And while realism calls for making the most of norms, alliances, and institutions, transactionalism counsels their evasion or even destruction. At a time when the postwar order appears to be crumbling, this traditional conception of realism might sound idealistic, and transactional engagement more pragmatic. Unburdened by the responsibility to build in stitutions or maintain alliances, and unconstrained by principles, a transactional leader, the thinking goes, can deliver results even in challenging circumstances. But the long-term outcomes are likely to be far from desirable. This is almost certainly the case when it comes to America’s emerging approach to Russia. The Trump administration seems to view the end of active hostilities in Ukraine less as an end goal than as an opportunity to begin reconfiguring economic and geopolitical relations with the Kremlin. The gradual rollback of sanctions, technology restrictions, and market barriers will then enable the US to continue to shape outcomes as it wishes.
Crucially, however, these changes will be applied selectively, with actors being forced to negotiate agreements individually. What were conceived as instruments of broad deterrence – mechanisms for forcing a rogue entity back into a rules-based system – will be wielded to shape incentives within elite structures. This pay-to-play approach, devoid of institutional ambition, can hardly be considered economic statecraft, and it is unlikely to work. Because commercial considerations are always paramount for Trump, he assumes that the same is true for leaders like Russian President Vladimir Putin, and thus that political agreements are more likely to last if they are embedded in commercial arrangements that increase the costs of reversals or violations. This also explains the administration’s belief that a partial normalisation of the US-Russia relationship would automatically weaken Russia’s relationship with China.
According to this “reverse Nixon” strategy, it does not matter that an ideological realignment is not on the cards; drawing Russia back into some Western-connected infrastructure – financial clearing, technological standards, supply chains – will be enough to weaken Russia’s alignment with China. Power, in this view, lies less in alliances than in controlling the architecture of connectivity. The Russian elite thus needs to be brought into Western economic and commercial frameworks through a large number of narrow, overlapping deals. Whether these assumptions hold in Russia is far from clear. Nearly four years of war, harsh sanctions, and asset redistribution have further consolidated what was already a highly personalised regime. Personalisation increases the internal cost of compromise and narrows the space for durable deal-making. What looks appealing on a balance sheet might be politically untenable in the Kremlin, which must reckon with a population that has absorbed around a million casualties in the Ukraine war. Even if deals are made, the idea that they can underpin a stable, prosperous system is far-fetched. By privileging personalities over processes, leverage over legitimacy, and speed over sustainability, transactional policymaking erodes predictability and creates space for rule-breaking. This is not good news for the US: it was by acting as a trusted enforcer of shared rules that America was able to secure and retain the global leadership position that brought it so many advantages over the last several decades. But it is even worse news for Europe.
Ukraine’s gradual integration is a central geopolitical project for the European Union. A US-Russia arrangement in which Ukraine is little more than a bargaining chip risks hollowing out this project before it is consolidated. How can the EU anchor Ukraine in its institutional order if Ukraine’s future is to reflect a transactional settlement negotiated by external powers? Europe is trying to adapt to this new, more disorderly world through diversification and “de-risking.” Recent trade agreements with India and Mercosur (Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, and Uruguay) reflect this approach. But while these partnerships are strategically necessary, they carry political costs. Social resistance to trade agreements like that reached with Mercosur highlights the limits of a “narrow-path” globalization which promises resilience while generating domestic anxiety.
More importantly, diversification does not eliminate dependency. The US remains the EU’s largest market, absorbing one-fifth of EU exports. Moreover, Europe still depends on US capabilities in defence, intelligence, finance, internet technology, cloud computing, AI, and advanced semiconductors. The effort to break these dependencies by embracing European alternatives or building coalitions of middle powers will not bear fruit any time soon. Not everyone is worse off in this new age of transactional international politics. While Trump looks for excuses to declare quick victories, China is playing the long game, reinforcing Sino-centric technological standards, locking in supply chains, expanding financial and digital infrastructure, and building up its military and innovative capacity. This will leave it well-positioned to capitalise on the destruction of the US-led global order. In a world of asymmetrical power dynamics and deep interdependencies, the only path to stability lies in binding rules, credible institutions, and enduring alliances. Trump’s rejection of this basic truth – reflected in his administration’s dealings with Russia – augurs an age of volatility from which China will emerge a clear winner.
The writer, a former foreign minister of Spain, is a visiting lecturer at Georgetown University.
