Commentary /Global - 10 June 2025 -
On the World Stage, Trump Can't Always Get What he Wants
The following is adapted from a report from Crisis Group’s President and CEO Comfort Ero to the organisation’s Trustees in mid-May 2025. She and Executive Vice President Richard Atwood look at the second Trump administration’s foreign policy moves to date and curbs on his stated ambitions.
What should we make of the early months of Donald Trump’s second term? His domestic intent seems clear enough: consolidate executive power; erode checks and balances, including courts, the media, universities and the private sector; dismantle or reorient much of the state bureaucracy; deregulate industry; and make money for the family and cronies. But his foreign policy? The implications for international peace and security? Those are harder to make sense of.
First, Trump says many outlandish things, some he even means. But often they collide with geopolitical reality or he simply moves on. His words matter, in that capitals around the world must calibrate accordingly, but as fewer of his wildest ideas come about, some of them matter less. The question of whether we should take him literally or seriously misses that sometimes he is literal, sometimes serious and sometimes neither but that, whatever he means, he often can’t get what he wants on the world stage.
Plus, Trump’s cabinet, while more subservient than during his first term, still comprises rival camps, representing competing strains within the Republican Party. The more traditional one, broadly speaking, is more supportive of Ukraine and allies in Europe (even if for now mostly quietly), unconditionally backs Israel, mostly eschews diplomacy with Iran and Venezuela, and sees China as an existential global rival. The other, “restraint”-oriented camp – which may have an edge, since Trump has little appetite for foreign wars and Vice President JD Vance even less – wants to pull some U.S. assets out of Europe and the Middle East, seems readier to ditch Ukraine and European allies, seeks to avoid war with Tehran and regime change in Caracas and, while hoping to stop a Chinese takeover of Taiwan, sees China mostly as a competitor in Asia. Atop it all sits Trump himself, floating grand bargains with Xi Jinping and Vladimir Putin, and motivated more by transaction than any higher principle.
The result is a succession of nerve-wracking swings. Take Ukraine and Europe policy. It started abysmally: Vice President Vance berated European allies – about values, not burden sharing, making it all the more galling – at February’s Munich Security Conference. Trump humiliated Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy in the Oval Office, parroted Russian propaganda and briefly cut off weapons and intelligence for Ukraine. The administration appeared to believe that Russia posed little threat to Europe beyond Ukraine or it didn’t matter much to Washington if it did. Things shifted in mid-April, as Trump’s envoy Steve Witkoff proposed a ceasefire deal that, while flawed, was not the gift the Kremlin might have hoped for. Trump met Zelenskyy at the Vatican and rebuked Putin. Vance offered conciliatory words to another Munich gathering in mid-May that suggested a firmer U.S. commitment to Europe. The U.S.-Ukraine minerals deal, whose original text had seemed predatory and exploitative, ended up being more of a shared venture. How can we tell which way Trump will swerve next when one day in May he seems almost to capitulate on a call to Putin and the next day calls him “crazy”?
Similar zigzags characterise Middle East policy. Of everything that has happened since January, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s murderous campaign in Gaza hangs heaviest over Trump’s early months. Trump had started fairly well on Gaza – even before he took office, pressing Netanyahu into a ceasefire that had eluded President Joe Biden. He could have used the Israeli premier’s February visit to the White House to corral him into the ceasefire’s second phase. Instead, Trump proposed emptying the strip of Palestinians to make room for luxury resorts, normalising in Israeli discourse the once fringe idea of permanently driving people out of Gaza or, for that matter, the West Bank. Then came his Gulf trip and steps that distanced U.S. policy from Netanyahu: a ceasefire with Yemen’s Houthis even as they lobbed missiles at Israel; a decision to drop the U.S. linkage between Saudi-Israeli normalisation and civilian nuclear cooperation while trading access to high-end chips for massive Saudi investment in the U.S.; several rounds of nuclear talks with Iran; and, ahead of meeting Syria’s new president (and reformed al-Qaeda commander) Ahmed al-Sharaa, a welcome pledge to lift all U.S. sanctions on the country.
Despite Trump’s apparent impatience with the Gaza war, he has not used Washington’s leverage to stop it.
But still, despite Trump’s apparent impatience with the Gaza war, he has not used Washington’s leverage to stop it. True, the near unconditional backing of U.S. presidents has long empowered the worst tendencies within Israeli politics and Biden helped set the stage for what is happening today. Even so, it seems unlikely that any of Trump’s predecessors would have given such leeway and remained so silent in the face of such overt atrocities. A string of former Israeli military and civilian leaders condemn ever more loudly a campaign that has laid waste to Gaza and its society as a moral and strategic disaster, entirely out of proportion to the terrible attack Israel suffered nineteen months ago, and a peril not just to Gaza but to Israeli society itself. Trump is failing Israelis as well as Palestinians by not stepping in. (Admittedly, Arab and European capitals, despite stronger statements, are not yet doing anything like enough, either.)
Elsewhere, too, inconsistent policy tells a tale of inconsistent priorities. In Latin America, some top officials want deals with the continent’s leaders to repatriate migrants; others want to squeeze out Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro. In Mexico, will the administration unilaterally bomb the cartels, work with state authorities to curtail drug trafficking or do both? In Africa, Trump’s general disinterest and abandonment of the Horn’s conflicts and devastating aid cuts, which have hit the most vulnerable people in parts of the continent hard, sit alongside both fake and seemingly racist genocide charges hurled at South Africa and, reportedly, reasonably constructive involvement in DR Congo-Rwanda talks. During the dangerous India-Pakistan escalation, Trump and Vance first declared it was something the U.S. could do little about, before the administration acted – somewhat clumsily, sure, but also decisively – to give the two sides an off-ramp. As for the Asia Pacific region and U.S.-China relations, Trump’s policy is, at best, a work in progress. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth lectures Asian allies about achieving “peace through strength” and thwarting Chinese hegemony. Trump muses about their and Taiwan’s freeloading. For now, in any case, the tariff mess has put most other Asia initiatives on hold.
So far, then, there is no Trump doctrine. There are Trump instincts: wariness of protracted military entanglements; disdain for alliances and trans-Atlantic elites; hunger for quick wins; determination to rid the U.S. of darker-skinned migrants; hostility to trade deficits; an abiding belief in tariffs’ efficacy. But how these urges will translate into action in any given situation remains anyone’s guess. U.S. policy is made on the fly, veering back and forth, a seemingly unending tug of war between camps or among world leaders vying for Trump’s ear or pocketbook, without a vision or, even were there one, the patience with detail required to bring it about.
Still, we can draw some conclusions about Trump’s second term so far, particularly as it relates to Crisis Group’s work.
First is that his iconoclasm has opened negotiating space but not yet closed deals – at least not significant ones.
In some cases, his readiness to talk to adversaries has yielded small wins: the release of U.S. citizens held in Afghanistan, Russia and Venezuela, for example, and an U.S.-Israeli dual national from Gaza, which entailed talking directly to Hamas – something it is hard to imagine Biden’s team doing. The administration secured the India-Pakistan truce, after Secretary of State Marco Rubio called Pakistani military chief Asim Munir and Vance spoke to Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Trump has floated further U.S. mediation over Kashmir. But while safeguards to stop a fresh crisis triggered by the almost inevitable next militant attack from spinning out of control seem essential, little suggests that Trump is really going to invest time and capital in such a thorny matter, particularly over New Delhi’s objections. The ceasefire with the Houthis, after weeks of heavy U.S. bombing, entailed small Houthi concessions but did not stop strikes on Israel (let alone Israel’s Gaza assault, which the Houthis cite as justification).
Rather than working with Ukraine and Europe to up the pressure on the Kremlin, Trump’s team went the other way.
As for Trump’s Ukraine diplomacy, that appears to have run aground. By early 2025, when he took office, the best hope was probably a ceasefire, or ideally an armistice, along or near the front lines, that left Ukraine with some form of deterrence – likely a strong, Western-backed army rather than NATO membership, which appeared off the cards (not just for Russia; the U.S. under both Biden and Trump ruled it out). For Kyiv and European capitals, such an arrangement would hardly be ideal. But the bigger challenge lay in convincing Putin, who believed he had battlefield advantage, to walk back the goal he had articulated since 2022 of Ukraine’s “neutrality” and at least partial demilitarisation – broadly understood to mean its subjugation to Moscow. Rather than working with Ukraine and Europe to up the pressure on the Kremlin, Trump’s team went the other way, cosying up to Putin, dangling, in exchange for a ceasefire, the prospect of business deals, sanctions relief and rehabilitation on the global stage, while squeezing Ukraine and positioning the U.S. as a broker between the two sides.
Whether the administration was guided primarily by Trump’s apparent fondness for Putin, desire to gratify a populist base whipped up against the Ukraine war or, more charitably, belief that repositioning the U.S. would enable direct talks with the Kremlin and that a better integrated Russia would pose a lesser threat is unclear. Whatever the motives, if the approach had extracted concessions from Moscow, maybe it would have been worthwhile. But Putin has shown no sign of bending, rejecting Witkoff’s proposal (which, while far from perfect, would at least have left Ukraine with a strong, Western-backed army) and in early May failing to show up for talks in Istanbul. The payday Trump envisages for Russia has always required Putin to agree first to a ceasefire, which thus far has been a bridge too far for the Kremlin.
Trump now threatens to walk away, though as things stand it seems more likely that will mean abandoning mediation efforts but still at least selling Kyiv weapons, including critical air defences, and providing intelligence, rather than cutting off support. All signs today point to a gruelling summer and a long fight in Ukraine, with less U.S. involvement, a harder Russian push along the front lines and much hinging on Ukraine’s own arms industry and Europe stepping up.
The Iran talks offer brighter prospects, but the administration may well mess things up. Tehran, with its economy struggling, popular discontent rife and its defences and proxies weakened after exchanges of fire with Israel last year, needs a deal. A key question is whether Witkoff’s skeleton crew has the chops to thrash out nuclear specifics with Iran’s seasoned diplomats and reach an agreement Trump can paint as better than the 2015 nuclear deal. That might include provisions, even if informal, on Iran’s missiles or backing of non-state proxies. Another question is whether Trump is ready to defend a deal in Washington that allows Iran to keep enriching uranium – Tehran will not agree to forego enrichment altogether – and which critics will portray as a sellout. An enrichment consortium, jointly operated by Iran and its Gulf Arab neighbours, could help square the circle by allowing Iran to maintain elements of nuclear fuel cycle within a multinational, not a sovereign, program, which would be mutually and internationally monitored.
In principle, Trump, whom Netanyahu and Israel hawks would struggle to outflank on his right, is well positioned to sell a new agreement. Still, resistance is fierce, even within the administration. Trump’s team, believing time is on its side, also underestimates the risk that the Europeans’ plan to snap back in mid-summer the UN sanctions suspended by the 2015 accord could lead Iran to withdraw from the Non-Proliferation Treaty and the pressure on Washington, including from Israel, to act militarily such a step would bring.
The administration’s diplomacy, alongside Qatar, in efforts to end the war between Rwandan-backed M23 rebels and Congolese forces, is an especially bracing mix of mercantilism and peacemaking. In March, Qatar brought the Congolese and Rwandan presidents, Félix Tshisekedi and Paul Kagame, together for the first time in years, at least temporarily stopping the M23’s offensive and getting Tshisekedi to agree to talk to the rebels, something he had previously refused to do. Trump’s team was lured into the file with a minerals deal in DR Congo’s case and pledges to take migrants in Rwanda’s. But even if the two leaders sign an agreement on the White House lawn, as Trump reportedly hopes, that deal seems unlikely to do more than extend the freeze in fighting or reduce its intensity. It would require attention from others as, presumably, the administration’s focus drifts elsewhere.
Peacemaking and nuclear diplomacy require expertise and patience. Thus far, Trump’s team appears to have neither.
Thus far, then, Trump’s campaign promises to bring peace to a world ablaze have mostly fallen flat. To be fair, Trump returned to power after a decade-plus of mounting instability worldwide, with few conflicts ending in genuine peace agreements. If his record over his first few months isn’t great, nobody else recently has been doing much better in calming wars. Biden’s diplomacy was effective in its back channels with China, mixed on Ukraine (impressive in rallying NATO at first, stuck in a rut in his last two years) and crucial in averting constitutional crises in Brazil and Guatemala. But his administration’s peacemaking was abysmal on Gaza, little better on Sudan, too cautious with Iran and mostly absent elsewhere. While we might well hold our noses at peace deals that include elements of extraction, perhaps they are better, if they hold, than no peace deals at all. Still, in the end, peacemaking and nuclear diplomacy require expertise and patience. Thus far, Trump’s team appears to have neither.
The second conclusion about Trump’s initial months in office is that it matters a lot how other governments respond. The administration’s oscillation and internal disconnect over policy put much in play. Allies, adversaries and everyone in between must work out, much more than they would have to with a more traditional White House, what power and influence they have, how best to translate that into agency and how to intercede when it matters.
Often, it’s obviously transactional. Investment helps, as Trump’s Gulf trip showed. Thankfully, for the most part, Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, compared with where he was during Trump’s first term, is more interested in a peaceful region, has gone some way toward reconciling with Iran and has mostly resolved the crisis within the Gulf Cooperation Council. The Gulf’s multi-billion-dollar diplomacy is hardly ideal, but better that it be in the service of stability rather than warmaking. If investment is one way to curry favour, readiness to take back – or just take – migrants is another quick way to curry favour, as Rwanda and especially Salvadoran President Nayib Bukele have shown.
But diplomatic finesse counts, too. French President Emmanuel Macron and UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer helped rehabilitate Zelenskyy after the appalling White House meeting and, together with a camp in the administration friendlier to Ukraine, brought Washington, at least for some weeks, to a better place on Europe. Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum has given Trump wins without budging on core issues, though reportedly still feels squeezed to give the U.S. military a lead role in fighting drug traffickers in Mexico. Flattery works, but Trump often also respects people standing their ground. The worst seems to be objecting loudly but doing nothing about it.
Third is Trump’s utter disregard for norms, law and multilateralism. True, the U.S. has always given itself and friends a pass when its interests were at stake. Trump, however, has dispensed even with the lip service. He frequently expresses what seems like genuine empathy for people getting killed and suffering in war. He abhors nuclear weapons. But those sentiments are unmoored from any reference to the international legal instruments that can help protect people in conflict or stop proliferation. Worse still, some of his wilder notions – his offer to Putin that the U.S. formally recognise Russia’s annexation of Crimea; his dreams of annexing Greenland; his Gaza Riviera proposal – risk stretching the bounds of what leaders feel they can get away with, even if none of the above ends up happening.
Some capitals find Trump’s transactionalism refreshing. Better that, the argument goes, than previous presidents’ hypocritical moralising.
Some capitals find Trump’s transactionalism refreshing. Better that, the argument goes, than previous presidents’ hypocritical moralising (though Trump officials, too, preach about protecting far-right free speech in Europe). But for all the double standards, U.S. power has often served the global commons, from protecting shipping lanes to funding multilateralism and much of the world’s humanitarian aid. Few countries would gain much from a truly dog-eat-dog world. Ideally, in the face of Washington’s retrenchment, some group of non-Western and Western states would coalesce around core standards – rules against aggression and redrawing borders by force; the nuclear non-proliferation architecture; and norms against mass killing and ethnic cleansing, for example. Such a group would have to stand as strongly against Putin’s annexation of Ukraine’s south and east as against Netanyahu’s Gaza assault. For now, though, most world capitals are in reaction mode and the UN’s leadership scrambling to deal with cuts.
That said, the last conclusion from the first months of Trump’s second term is that some of the nightmare scenarios on the world stage that perhaps appeared plausible some months ago seem unlikelier today. Aspects of U.S. policy have probably changed irreversibly: even if the Democrats win one house of Congress back in the mid-terms and the presidency in 2028, the U.S. will not return to its previous global role, allies must be readier to fend for themselves and U.S. development aid may be mostly gone for good. Trump has done considerable damage to U.S. democracy and, if he succeeds in bullying the courts, universities and civil society into submission, he will do more. Trump’s climate change denial could have profound implications, as may his rejection of any regulation of artificial intelligence. But, as of today, the foreign constraints a messy world imposes on Trump – and the restraints the market brings in the case of tariffs – have proven stronger than domestic political ones. The U.S. probably will not invade Greenland, seize the Panama Canal or coerce Canada into becoming a state, though it may continue to voice these goals in a way that justifiably unsettles allies. Nor is it likely to stitch up a deal with Putin that fully disarms Ukraine or hands Taiwan to China, even if the administration’s policies make Kyiv and Taipei more vulnerable.
As for the idea that Trump will carve up the world with fellow strongmen, as things stand, that seems fanciful. Mid-sized, in some cases nuclear-armed, countries in Europe and Asia – and for that matter, Latin America, where many capitals hedge between the U.S. and China – will do their best to stop that from happening (plus Trump cannot, as yet, afford to give Beijing control of Taiwan’s high-end chip production). Nor is it clear that either Moscow or Beijing trusts Washington enough to enter the kind of compact that such a reordering would imply. In that sense, an accelerated erosion of the post-World War II order, its continued slide toward lawlessness and global challenges spinning further out of control, seems more likely than a dramatic break.
But as Putin pounds Ukrainian cities, Netanyahu inflicts untold horror on Gaza and Sudan’s war and others rage on, such conclusions are hardly cause for complacency, let alone comfort. Trump may struggle to forge grand bargains with Putin or Xi, but his mixed signals and policy swings heighten other risks, particularly of Moscow, Beijing or another adversary miscalculating, testing Trump’s willingness to come to an ally’s defence and provoking an outcry in Washington that forces the president’s hand. For all that Trump wants to avoid wars, it is not hard to see him, in the wrong circumstances, blundering into one. We’re also, of course, only four months into what look set to be at least a few long and dangerous years ahead. Plenty more can go wrong.
Contributors
Comfort Ero Richard Atwood
President and CEO Executive Vİce President
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