Before Trump's return to office was secured, I was chatting online with a friend about Putin's strategy in Ukraine. "Putin is playing the long game," my friend observed, "he realizes he cannot win quickly, but he's patiently waiting for a miracle."
"What miracle could possibly save him?" I asked.
My friend's answer seemed absurd then: "Well, Trump could be elected." We both brushed it off as the craziest idea possible—a distant, unlikely scenario.
That dismissal has now turned to a chill of recognition. The "miracle" has materialized.
My friend also pointed out something crucial about Russian warfare that the West consistently underestimates: "Russia knows how to wage slow, grinding wars. They depend on sacrificing humans, which post-Soviet Russia has plenty of." While Western democracies measure war in weeks and political cycles, Putin measures it in years and generations. His strategic patience stems from a fundamentally different calculus of human life.
The recent White House meeting between Trump and Zelensky demonstrated this new reality with startling clarity. What should have been serious diplomacy became, in Trump's own proud words, "great television." The Ukrainian president wasn't treated as the leader of a nation fighting for survival but as a contestant on a reality show—publicly scolded and dismissed without meaningful support.
Yet the European response to this alarming spectacle has been painfully predictable. We Europeans dismiss Friday's event as a mere misunderstanding, a temporary blip in the transatlantic relationship. We continue our decades-long tradition of waiting on bended knee for American salvation. "America is a friend and it will help, for sure. They have promised." "NATO will defend us, how can it not?"
As the old military adage goes: "If you don't pay for your own army, you'll end up paying for someone else's." Europe has long enjoyed the luxury of minimal defense spending while sheltering under America's security umbrella. That bargain, which already showed cracks during previous administrations, now appears to be fundamentally broken.
This outsourcing of security has left Europe strategically impotent at precisely the moment when it needs to stand on its own. Trump's sudden embrace of "peace at any cost" represents everything the Kremlin strategists have patiently awaited. They didn't need to defeat Ukraine militarily; they simply needed to outlast Western resolve. Putin's strategy—trading time and Russian lives for Western fatigue—has paid off. Now, without firing a single additional shot, he watches as his greatest adversary's support crumbles from within.
The evidence of Kremlin influence is no longer subtle. Trump's talking points—from questioning Ukraine's sovereignty to suggesting territorial concessions—echo Moscow's propaganda with alarming precision. What took years of sophisticated disinformation campaigns to seed now flows freely from the Oval Office.
Europe faces an existential choice: step forward immediately to fill America's retreating role or watch as the rules-based order collapses. Each day of European hesitation is a victory for Putin, who has mastered the art of the long game while Western democracies remain trapped in short-term thinking and strategic dependency.
The Ukrainian people, who have endured years of Russian terror, deserve better than becoming pawns in America's domestic political games or victims of Europe's strategic complacency. This humiliating spectacle reveals the cruel calculus of modern geopolitics: principles crumble before personalities, democratic values bow to authoritarian pressure, and what we once dismissed as a crazy improbability has become Ukraine's waking nightmare.
Putin waited for his miracle, and against all odds, it arrived in Washington—proving once again that those who can sacrifice the most and wait the longest often prevail in geopolitics, regardless of moral standing.
While our governments dither in bureaucratic paralysis—or to put it in more direct terms, while they prove themselves utterly useless—we as citizens cannot afford to wait. If this spectacle has shown us anything, it's that relying solely on official channels means accepting defeat by delay.
For every dollar America withholds, let's send two euros. This isn't just a slogan—it's a practical response. If Trump cuts a billion in aid, Europe's citizens should mobilize two billion. Not through our hesitant governments, but through direct action and personal commitment.
Support for Ukraine must become a personal responsibility. There are countless ways to help—donate directly to Ukrainian aid organizations, support businesses that employ Ukrainian refugees, push your local representatives to act even as national governments hesitate, or volunteer your skills, time, and resources.
For a comprehensive list of vetted charities supporting everything from military equipment to humanitarian aid to animal shelters, visit the r/ukraine wiki at https://www.reddit.com/r/ukraine/wiki/charities/ or simply search online for Ukrainian support organizations. Choose one or two that align with your values and commit to regular contributions.
The question is no longer whether Europe's institutions will step up, but whether its people will. Every euro sent directly to Ukrainian humanitarian efforts or defense funds is a statement that we refuse to be complicit in Putin's waiting game. If our governments won't lead, then we must—from the ground up, person by person, community by community.
History will remember not just what our leaders failed to do, but what ordinary citizens chose to do despite them.
I understand your point, but I would not imply that a backdoor has to be remote. Backdoors are essentially any alternative, often undocumented ways to access or gain privileges on systems. They don't always result from malicious intent either - many backdoors simply "happen" when developers haven't fully considered security implications. For the average user whose device contains such unintentional backdoors, the impact remains the same regardless of how they came to exist. Consider the times when vendors had default BIOS passwords - these created a nightmare for Uni IT staff (and others as well), even though they were not accessible remotely.