When war begins to look like theatre and diplomacy like rehearsed dialogue, one must ask: who’s scripting the drama —and to what end? In the fog of modern conflict, it is becoming increasingly difficult to discern whether we are witnessing authentic efforts toward peace or merely a grand performance designed to obscure deeper agendas.
The enduring war between Russia and Ukraine —now in its grim, protracted phase —has transformed into something far more layered than a conventional territorial dispute. It resembles an elaborate geopolitical production, complete with familiar protagonists, choreographed moves, and a global audience often misled by surface-level optics. Recent developments involving US President Donald Trump —his rhetorical pirouettes, renewed overtures to NATO, and paradoxical arms sales propositions —do not clarify the path to peace but instead thicken the plot. What we see unfolding may not be the pursuit of resolution, but rather a calculated exercise in strategic profiteering and power consolidation. Behind the camera flashes, press briefings, and high-minded declarations lies a narrative that refuses to be ignored: war has become a saleable commodity, repackaged and exported under the guise of defense and deterrence, and Ukraine is now its most lucrative pretext.
Trump, who not long ago ridiculed NATO as obsolete and rebuked the European Union for freeloading on US defence contributions, is now recasting himself as a peace-broker with theatrical flair. He once boasted that he could end the war in Ukraine within days— a claim as grandiose as it is untested. Yet, rather than presenting a coherent or structured diplomatic blueprint, Trump’s latest manoeuvre involves doing exactly what he once condemned: arming Ukraine, with the financial burden shifted largely onto European allies. According to The Guardian, Trump has now struck a deal with NATO partners to continue supplying Ukraine with weaponry —ironically paid for by the very nations he once criticized. This abrupt reversal is not merely ironic; it is deeply suspect. It raises questions not only about his true intentions but also about the underlying motives of the broader Western establishment: is this pivot toward arming Ukraine truly a strategy for peace, or merely a tactical step in a larger game of military-industrial opportunism?
During his recent interactions— including reported telephonic contact with Vladimir Putin— there appeared to be a fleeting window for diplomatic de-escalation. However, what followed defied the conventional logic of ceasefire negotiations. Rather than pausing military operations or signaling diplomatic restraint, both Ukraine and Russia intensified their assaults. Ukraine continued to strike Russian targets, seemingly emboldened by renewed Western endorsement and forthcoming military support, while Russia retaliated with an expanded scale of attacks.
This synchronized escalation, unfolding against the backdrop of Trump’s supposed peace initiative, casts serious doubt on whether de-escalation was ever genuinely on the table. It appears increasingly plausible that the theatre of conflict is being deliberately kept alive— timed perfectly with new arms announcements, diplomatic optics, and vague promises of sanctions that never bite deep enough.
This is where the broader context begins to crystallize. The USA has long reigned as the preeminent global supplier of arms, with titanic corporations like Lockheed Martin, Raytheon Technologies, Northrop Grumman, Boeing Defense, and General Dynamics occupying central positions in what President Eisenhower once warned of as the “military-industrial complex.” These entities are not passive beneficiaries of global instability— they are active stakeholders whose growth is inextricably tied to the perpetuation of global tensions. Whether the region in focus is Eastern Europe, the Middle East, South Asia, or the Indo-Pacific, the pattern is hauntingly repetitive: provoke or extend a crisis, construct a binary moral framework, and then step in as the essential supplier of military hardware and strategic counsel. The war in Ukraine has become not an exception, but a textbook case of this script.
Trump’s sudden reengagement with NATO— an alliance he once called obsolete— is emblematic of his opportunistic and transactional worldview. By proposing that arms be supplied to Ukraine but funded predominantly by European nations, he positions the USA as a benevolent facilitator while absolving his administration of direct financial or political risk. This clever outsourcing of responsibility appeals to domestic isolationist sentiments in the USA, while simultaneously ensuring that European allies remain tethered to US defence supply chains. As The Washington Post highlights, the Trump-aligned proposal recalibrates NATO’s burden-sharing not out of solidarity, but out of strategic calculus— Europe pays the bill while the USA directs the narrative and controls the arsenals.
Further compounding this ambiguity is Trump’s shifting tone— what The Guardian aptly described as a “tonal U-turn.” His vague threats of sanctions against Russia, paired with his encouragement for more weapons deliveries to Ukraine, suggest deliberate obfuscation. Is Trump genuinely attempting to deter Moscow’s aggression, or is he simulating a crisis to legitimize further militarization?
The arms packages announced under his name lack transparency in timelines, logistical structure, or terms of engagement. This fog of ambiguity only fuels a self-sustaining militaristic momentum while eroding any credible path toward diplomatic resolution. It is the politics of perpetual preparation, rather than resolution.
It is time the world moved beyond the optics of weapon shipments and ceasefire slogans. The Ukraine war deserves more than to be another chapter in the West’s long tradition of war-based capitalism. Whether it is Trump or any future president, the real test lies in confronting the entrenched nexus between geopolitics and the arms economy. Until that nexus is severed, conflicts like Ukraine will remain less about sovereignty or justice and more about sustaining an empire of perpetual war under the guise of peacekeeping.
Adding further credence to this view are the recent actions and declarations by key European leaders, which reveal a parallel militaristic recalibration. French President Emmanuel Macron, long an advocate of European “strategic autonomy,” has dramatically shifted his tone in recent months. He announced a significant increase in France’s defence budget, pledging over €400 billion in military spending through 2030, and even floated the idea of European nuclear preparedness under French deterrence— a move that implicitly underscores a preparation for prolonged continental conflict.
Germany, likewise, has broken post-war precedent by committing to long-term defense hikes, allocating over €100 billion for Bundeswehr modernization. The UK, not to be left behind, is also expanding its defence commitments with increased ammunition production and a larger military footprint in Eastern Europe. These are not isolated acts of prudence— they are coordinated signals of readiness for a protracted geopolitical standoff.
What is deeply troubling is the silence around the economic motivations embedded within these defence buildups. For Macron and others, talk of European sovereignty and deterrence cloaks the simple truth that the war economy is no longer a byproduct of conflict —it is the engine driving it. The very countries funding Ukraine’s defense are also bolstering their own military industries, with joint ventures, production plants, and procurement deals being fast-tracked across Europe. NATO’s increased coordination with arms manufacturers is now out in the open, as is the tacit alignment with US defence giants. In such a context, Ukraine is not just a battleground— it is the laboratory for a Western arms revival, a pretext for remilitarization, and a catalyst for decades-long defence investment.
More troubling is the continued silence— or complicity— of global institutions and watchdogs. While headlines report on the immediate drama of battlefield developments and diplomatic stunts, few scrutinize the underlying economic drivers. The conflict has morphed from a territorial and ideological dispute into a sustainable ecosystem for arms sales, geopolitical posturing, and electoral theatrics. With Trump leveraging the war to boost his statesman credentials ahead of the next election cycle, and NATO eager to assert its relevance, Ukraine’s suffering becomes a stage for strategic ambition rather than a humanitarian priority.
This critique is not a defense of Russian aggression, nor does it absolve Ukraine of its wartime decisions. Rather, it is a pointed interrogation of the West’s— and particularly USA’s— choreographed approach to the crisis. Peace talks are dangled, only to be pulled back. Ceasefires are teased, then drowned in renewed air raids. Amidst this, arms manufacturers clock in record profits, defence budgets swell, and leaders on all sides gain domestic traction through martial resolve. The suffering of civilians and the destruction of sovereignty are rendered secondary to the perpetuation of a profitable status quo.
It is time the world moved beyond the optics of weapon shipments and ceasefire slogans. The Ukraine war deserves more than to be another chapter in the West’s long tradition of war-based capitalism. Whether it is Trump or any future president, the real test lies in confronting the entrenched nexus between geopolitics and the arms economy. Until that nexus is severed, conflicts like Ukraine will remain less about sovereignty or justice and more about sustaining an empire of perpetual war under the guise of peacekeeping.
