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“Mistakes Were Made”: How Trump’s America Became Russia’s Favorite Mediator
It’s Palm Sunday in Sumy. Families are gathering. Church bells ring. A mother and daughter, Maryna and Lyudmyla, rush to the scene of an explosion to help the wounded. Minutes later, a second missile rips through the air and takes their lives. They are mourned in chestnut-colored coffins, surrounded by sobbing neighbors and bloodied children who survived only because they were sitting five feet to the left.
And what does the President of the United States say in response?
"I was told it was a mistake."
A mistake, says Donald Trump, as if Russia’s years-long campaign of civilian massacres were a paperwork error at the DMV. As if Sumy were the result of a bad batch of coordinates or a dropped airpod mid-launch. As if dropping cluster munitions on Palm Sunday is just a little oopsie, like forgetting to bring deviled eggs to the ceasefire.
It wasn't a mistake, it was a doctrine. From the bombing of the Kramatorsk train station filled with children, to the airstrike on a funeral in Hroza that obliterated nearly a fifth of the village, Russia’s war has been defined by the intentional, repeated, and systematic targeting of civilians. Playgrounds. Train stations. Apartment blocks. Malls. Medical centers. Maternity wards.
And now, as the body count rises, Washington is sending… a hotel magnate?
Yes, Trump’s “special envoy” to peace negotiations is none other than Steve Witkoff, a man best known for luxury real estate deals, not diplomacy. He met personally with Vladimir Putin in St. Petersburg, emerging from the Kremlin’s embrace with a twinkle in his eye and a pitch that could’ve been cribbed from a sales brochure: “We see real opportunities for commercial cooperation.”
Call it the Mariupol Marriott Strategy.
According to Karoline Leavitt, Trump’s living, breathing MAGA press release, Witkoff’s meeting with Putin was “productive.” Russia, she insisted, might finally consider ending its war if we sweeten the deal with economic partnerships. Because nothing says “we hear your pain, Ukraine” like underwriting the reconstruction of the very country that bombed you into the Stone Age.
When asked about details, Leavitt chose the time-honored tradition of pre-authoritarian doublespeak: “I don’t want to get ahead of negotiations.” Translation? The details are either too horrifying to say out loud, or so incoherent they’re still being workshopped on Truth Social.
Meanwhile, in case anyone mistook Trump’s soft spot for Russia as an accidental policy quirk, here comes the kicker: he’s also defending Russia’s military behavior in public. Again.
This time, writing off a city-leveling, bus-incinerating, child-killing missile attack as something one might expect after a long day and too much vodka. A “mistake.”
Let’s pause to appreciate just how far we’ve fallen from moral clarity.
Sweden summoned the Russian ambassador and demanded accountability. Their Foreign Minister called Russia’s actions what they are: war crimes, not peace overtures. But in Washington, we’ve got Trump blaming bureaucrats and praising Putin’s supposed restraint, while Karoline Leavitt reads from the Kremlin playbook in a peppy press briefing outfit.
And as if the alignment weren’t grotesque enough, take a look at what’s happening inside Russia to those brave enough to do what American journalists still have the right to do, tell the truth.
Four journalists, Antonina Kravtsova, Konstantin Gabov, Sergei Karelin, and Artem Kriger, were just sentenced to five and a half years in a Russian penal colony for reporting on the late Alexei Navalny. Their trial was secret. The evidence? Nonexistent. Their crime? Filming a dying dissident in court, taking photos, uploading them, existing.
You’d think this would inspire a White House press secretary to defend the principle of press freedom. But not Leavitt. She’s too busy trying to ban reporters for including pronouns in their email signatures.
The convergence is undeniable. Russia jails journalists. Trump threatens to strip licenses from media outlets. Russia brands critics “extremists.” Trump floats charges of treason for former officials and journalists alike. Russia bombs civilian buses. Trump shrugs. Russia wants “peace.” Trump offers partnerships. Russia silences reporters. Trump discredits them.
And in the background? Elon Musk’s platform gleefully broadcasting Russian propaganda, U.S. disinformation, and DRL-certified drone war porn, sometimes quite literally filmed from Moscow high-rises.
Now we are burying the Marynas and Lyudmyla’s of the world while Karoline Leavitt plays White House Barbie and Steve Witkoff negotiates away Ukrainian sovereignty like it’s a time-share in Sochi. It leaves us with a president who defends the indefensible and a press corps that may soon need body armor and a burner phone just to survive a White House press conference.
We’ve seen this movie before. The autocrat strikes. The strongman shrugs. The world wavers. And the coffins multiply. What comes next depends on whether we still have the capacity to say, this is wrong. Just wrong.
Because if we lose the ability to name evil, even when it's standing in front of a burning bus with cluster bomb fragments embedded in a child’s skull, then we are no longer just complicit. We are collaborators.
Photo AI generated (obviously!)