From Kabul to Kiev
The Decent Interval, 2025 Edition
The world is living through the final act of the post-1991 unipolar order. In Ukraine, the collective West has suffered a comprehensive strategic defeat at the hands of a Russia it spent three decades dismissing as a “gas station masquerading as a country.” The battlefield evidence is no longer ambiguous: Russian forces are advancing along every axis that matters; Moscow’s defence industry outproduces the entire NATO alliance in 152mm and 155mm shells by margins that fluctuate between 3:1 and 10:1; Ukrainian brigades are being rebuilt for the third and fourth time with 55- and 60-year-old conscripts and lightly wounded soldiers discharged from hospitals. The idea - still murmured in certain Washington think-tanks and London and Brussels corridors - that one more package of ATACMS, one more squadron of F-16s, one more billion euros from frozen Russian assets can yet “turn the tide” is no longer a strategic assessment. It is a psychological defence mechanism, the last refuge of a policy class that cannot yet bring itself to speak the words “we lost.”
Into this reality stepped the Trump administration’s 28-point peace plan - delivered to President Zelensky on 20 November 2025 without prior European consultation, and accompanied by a blunt Thanksgiving deadline (27 November) and the quiet throttling of intelligence feeds and munitions pipelines. The document is an instrument from the leader of the western war coalition that has run out of men, money, machines and political time.
The Trump peace plan represents the terminal manoeuvre in a Western-led coalition war that has followed a predictable arc: pre-conflict integration into NATO command structures, real-time battle-space dominance via U.S. intelligence and information warfare, a narrative pivot from “imminent Russian collapse” to “sustainable stalemate,” and now an engineered exit that cedes territory and sovereignty to preserve coalition optics. As with Vietnam’s “decent interval” and Afghanistan’s 2021 pullout, this is not neutral brokerage but a risk transfer: Ukraine absorbs the strategic defeat, Brussels and London can - if they so choose - carry the can and the future costs - while Washington recalibrates for domestic audiences. European and Ukrainian positions - Zelensky’s dignity pleas or EU resistance - carry marginal weight; the decision locus remains Washington, with Moscow’s response dictating the tempo. Viewed through the lens of Chris Matthews’ Hardball, the plan’s trajectory reveals classic political judo: U.S. concessions framed as “principled compromise,” Russian embrace on headlines undercut by operational vetoes, ensuring prolonged leverage without immediate commitment.
I won’t go through the peace plan, point by point. Many others have. Some highlights include the following:
De facto cession of Crimea and the entirety of Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson oblasts (including the ~35 % of those regions still under Ukrainian control);
A 100–300km demilitarised zone carved exclusively out of Ukrainian territory;
Permanent, legally binding renunciation of NATO membership, backed by written NATO guarantees of no further eastward expansion;
Ukrainian armed forces capped at 150,000 active personnel with a total cap of 600,000, and stripped of all long-range strike systems (ATACMS, Storm Shadow/Scalp, domestic analogues);
Diversion of ~$300 billion in frozen Russian assets into a U.S.–Russian “reconstruction vehicle,” with only $100 billion earmarked for Ukraine and the rest available for joint projects; and
Progressive lifting of all Western sanctions contingent on compliance, culminating in Russia’s readmission to the G7 (to again become the G8).
Supporters of Ukraine have reacted in horror and have rejected the plan as a capitulation. Neville Chamberlain’s “peace in our time” claim following his meeting with Hitler in Munich 1938 is reprised as the apposite historical analogue. There’s plenty wrong with this analogy, but it’s somewhat beside the point. From Washington’s perspective, the only question left is how to execute the retreat without producing images that can be played on loop the way Kabul 2021 was played against Joe Biden - and the way Saigon 1975 was played against Gerald Ford, and the way every previous “decent interval” collapse has been weaponised against the president in office when the final helicopter lifted off.
The Pentagon Papers Template: 1965–1975, Annotated for 2025
The historical precedent is exact, and the documentation is public for anyone willing to read it. The Pentagon Papers - some 7,000 pages of internal Department of Defense history completed in 1969 and leaked by Daniel Ellsberg in 1971 - contain the moment-by-moment record of how an earlier American elite confronted the same dilemma now facing the Biden–Trump transition. Here are the key moments:
November 1964 – February 1965: The Working Group on Vietnam (chaired by William Bundy) and National Security Action Memoranda explicitly conclude that even full-scale bombing of the North and deployment of 500,000+ U.S. ground troops will at best produce a prolonged stalemate, at worst a collapse of South Vietnam within two years.
3 November 1965: McNamara’s memorandum to Lyndon Johnson is the smoking gun. After the first major U.S. ground commitment (Ia Drang Valley), the Secretary of Defense writes that “the odds are against success,” that the war is already a “military and political stalemate,” and that further escalation will simply increase the eventual political cost of disengagement.
1966–1967: Internal NSC and State Department papers shift the stated objective from “defeating communism” to “avoiding a humiliating U.S. defeat” and buying South Vietnam “a decent chance to survive on its own for a period of time.” The phrase “decent interval” appears in classified traffic as early as 1966.
March 1968: After the Tet Offensive, Clark Clifford (McNamara’s successor) tells Johnson in a secret memo that the war is unwinnable and that the only remaining goal is to withdraw in a way that does not destroy the credibility of U.S. commitments elsewhere. Johnson’s 31 March speech announcing he will not run again is the first public crack in the façade.
1969–1973: Nixon and Kissinger inherit the same internal assessment and pursue the identical strategy: Vietnamization, expansion of the war into Cambodia and Laos, the Christmas bombing of 1972, all designed to secure a “decent interval” so that the inevitable fall of Saigon would occur after the 1972 U.S. election and preferably after Nixon left office.
Thus, the earliest unambiguous high-level realisation that defeat in Vietnam was inevitable was documented in the Papers is late 1964 / early 1965, and the clearest single statement is McNamara’s November 1965 memo. Yet, the U.S. did not make a single “formal announcement of withdrawal” from Vietnam; the process was gradual:
Nixon’s “Vietnamization” policy publicly announced on November 3, 1969 (the “silent majority” speech), but this was still escalation plus gradual draw-down, not a declaration of withdrawal';
The real policy shift toward full withdrawal begins with the Paris Peace Accords signed January 27, 1973;
The last U.S. combat troops left South Vietnam on March 29, 1973; and
The final evacuation (Fall of Saigon) occurred April 30, 1975.
The human ledger of that seven-year gap between McNamara’s November 1965 admission and the Paris Accords of January 1973 is staggering:
55,000 additional American dead (95 % of the total U.S. death toll);
~250,000 additional South Vietnamese military dead;
~800,000 additional North Vietnamese and Viet Cong dead; and
1.5–2 million additional Vietnamese civilian deaths.
All of it after the highest levels of the U.S. government had privately concluded the war was lost. The operating principle was never victory. It was the preservation of presidential reputations and the perceived credibility of American power. No one wanted to be the president who “lost Vietnam.” The war after 1965 was fought primarily to postpone the domestic political reckoning.
In short: the political class knew the war was lost by 1965, but no one wanted to be the president who “lost Vietnam.” So they passed the poisoned chalice from Johnson to Nixon to Ford, adding eight more years and tens of thousands of American lives (and millions of Vietnamese) to postpone the inevitable for the sake of domestic political survival and perceived national prestige. That is the core moral indictment of the Pentagon Papers: the war after 1965 was fought primarily to manage the optics of defeat, not to win.
There are uncanny and tragic parallels with the war in Ukraine. Publicly the claims have always been that Russia was weakened, Ukrainians were soldiering on bravely and only needed more time and support; then the narrative started introducing the idea of stalemate; and more recently it has become increasingly clear that Russia’s attrition war and capacity to sustain it is overwhelming. Attempts to obfuscate this are increasingly difficult. The U.S., the principal provider of machines and munitions, is a belligerent but now seeks to withdraw under the cover of pressuring Ukraine to accept a peace deal “brokered” by the U.S.
Sadly this has the whiff of political spin.
In reality, we are witnessing a recurring pattern in great-power proxy conflicts: the slow bleed of optimism into realism, then resignation, all while the human cost mounts and the exit ramps are dressed up as “strategic necessities.” The echoes between Vietnam and Ukraine are indeed stark - and, as of late November 2025, they’re ringing louder than ever. What began as a narrative of Ukrainian resilience and Russian fragility has fractured under the weight of battlefield math and political calculus.
Public messaging on Ukraine has mirrored the Vietnam playbook almost beat for beat:
Early Resolve (2022–2023): The West framed Russia as a “paper tiger” crumbling under sanctions and logistical woes (who could forget the claims of Russia’s economy being rendered into “tatters”, or the sniggering that Russia was raiding washing machines for semiconductors and soldiers were fighting with shovels having run out of bullets?), with Ukraine’s “brave soldiers” needing only time, Javelins, and HIMARS - or whatever Wunderwaffe had taken the cheerleaders’ fancy - to turn the tide. Zelensky’s defiant speeches and viral drone strikes fed this - the “Churchill of our times”, much like Johnson’s “light at the end of the tunnel” assurances in 1965, even as McNamara’s memos privately admitted stalemate.
Stalemate Creep (Late 2023–Mid-2024): By November 2023, Ukraine’s top general Valerii Zaluzhnyi publicly called it a “stalemate,” a term that stuck through 2024. This was after the disaster of Ukraine’s own “summer offensive”. Analysts like those at the Council on Foreign Relations noted the “dynamic stalemate” evolving into something more static, with Ukraine’s counteroffensive fizzling amid ammo shortages. This phase echoes the post-Tet Offensive haze of 1968, where U.S. officials downplayed losses while privately debating “Vietnamization.”
Attrition’s Overwhelm (2024–2025): Now, the facade is cracking. Russia’s economy has tilted the scales - it didn’t collapse after all - and its military has got its full act together in recognition that it was in for a fight. Ukrainian forces, exhausted and manpower-strapped, cannot advance and at best, hold on tenuously; Russia grinds forward with a strategy aimed at destroying the opposing army with territorial claims a consequent reality once there are no longer any defenders to worry about. Obfuscation and defiant talk persists, but the attrition math is undeniable: Russia produces shells at 10x Ukraine’s rate, has many more men and capacity, and frozen assets or not, Moscow’s willing and able to fight longer. Much longer.
Here the Vietnam parallel sharpens into tragedy. The U.S., having funnelled $175 billion in aid since 2022 (mostly machines and munitions), now pivots to de-escalator-in-chief. Trump’s 28-point plan demands Kiev cede Donbas fully, recognise Crimea/Luhansk/Donetsk as de facto Russian, demilitarise a buffer zone, and cap its army size. In exchange? Vague U.S. security guarantees, $100 billion from frozen Russian assets for rebuilding, and G7 readmission for Moscow.
The ultimatum: Sign by Thanksgiving (November 27) or lose intel/weapons flows. Zelensky’s response? A raw video address: Ukraine faces “losing dignity or a key partner,” but he’ll negotiate “honestly” with Trump while coordinating with Macron, Starmer and Merz for a “just” peace. European leaders echo this, pushing back on concessions while prepping G20 talks in South Africa. Putin, meanwhile, calls it a “basis” but insists on “root causes” .
What are we to make of this? From where I sit, this isn’t neutral brokerage; it never has been. The U.S. is the principal belligerent and attempts to reposition itself as a peak broker won’t fool anyone. As for the Europeans? They’ve been riding pillion, and their defiant bloviating is simply not matched by material capacity.
Rather, what we are witnessing is “decent interval 2.0.”
Trump inherits Biden’s aid fatigue, adds his “America First” lens, and frames surrender as “peace through strength.” Social media chatter calls it “blackmail” or a “Putin-Trump deal,” with users bemoaning the Thanksgiving deadline as coercion. Just as Nixon bombed Hanoi to “end the war honourably,” this pressures Kiev to “own” the loss while Washington dodges blame for abandonment. The whiff? Pure politics: Midterms loom, voters tire of $60 billion annual tabs, and a “win” lets Trump pivot to China or Venezuela without Ukraine as a quagmire albatross.
If Vietnam’s gap cost 55,000+ U.S. and millions of Vietnamese lives post-1965 realisation, Ukraine’s drags on too. Since the 2023 stalemate call, estimates peg 100,000+ Ukrainian military deaths (total war: 500,000+ combined casualties), plus 30,000 civilians - numbers that balloon daily in eastern Ukraine’s meatgrinder. Every delayed concession or aid pause sustains the attrition, buying “optics” at the price of trenches filled with exhausted 20-somethings and a growing number of their fathers (and grandfathers).
In truth-seeking terms, these historic parallels indict not just leaders but systems: American proxy wars where distant capitals wager sovereignty for prestige, leaving locals to pay. Ukraine’s fight bought Europe time to rearm (EU defence spending up 20% since 2022), and redefined drone-age warfare, amongst other things. In any case, it’s unlikely that the peace deal will result in any early onset of peace. The Europeans have responded with an alternative proposal, which will be rejected by Russia. Meanwhile, Russia indicates its openness to engage on the basis of the peace plan, but that’s not tantamount to agreement.
Hardball: Putin Plays the Game Perfectly
Chris Matthews titled his 1988 book Hardball: How Politics Is Played, Told by One Who Knows the Game. One of its central maxims is brutally simple: “It’s not who you love, it’s who you can hurt. And the best way to play hardball is to agree with your opponent quickly - on the big picture - while you strangle him slowly on the details.” Vladimir Putin has spent November 2025 executing a textbook Hardball manoeuvre against the Trump administration.
Public Kremlin statements speak of the plan laying a foundation for further discussions, and that Russia welcomes America’s constructive approach and remains open to serious negotiations. That is the warm headline, the “yes in principle,” the embrace that boxes Trump into believing Moscow is negotiating in good faith and allows Western commentators to speak of “momentum toward peace.” Simultaneously, Russian officials layer on conditions that eviscerate the deal:
Immediate Ukrainian withdrawal from all territory Russia claims (including the 35% still held);
Pre-recognition of “new territorial realities” before a ceasefire;
Legally binding, permanent NATO renunciation in writing;
Full lifting of all sanctions as a precondition; and
Negotiation only in formats that include China, India, Brazil, South Africa.
This is pure Matthews: “Always concede on principle, fight on detail.” “Hug your enemies close so they can’t hit you.” “Say yes and mean no.” The effect is to keep the Trump team invested in the idea that a deal is still possible while Russia continues its winter campaign. Every week of delay is another week of irreversible territorial gain and another week of Ukrainian manpower bleeding out.
Putin is not rubbing America’s nose in defeat. He is far too disciplined for that. He is doing something more sophisticated: forcing the United States to administer the capitulation to its own client while simultaneously exposing Europe’s powerlessness and irrelevance. The EU’s assorted utterances are performative because Europe cannot fight the war without American intelligence and American munitions. Moscow knows this, and by playing Hardball with Washington, Russia is systematically widening the transatlantic fracture.
The December 2021 Draft Treaties: The Receipts
Lest anyone believe Russia’s demands emerged ex nihilo in 2025, Moscow tabled two documents in December 2021 that read almost identically to the 28-point plan Kyiv is now being strong-armed into accepting:
A draft treaty with the United States demanding legally binding guarantees against NATO enlargement and the rollback of alliance infrastructure to 1997 lines; and
A parallel draft agreement with NATO containing the same provisions.
Both were dismissed by the Biden administration and NATO as “non-starters.” Four years and half a million or more Ukrainian casualties later, the core Russian demands are being imposed by battlefield reality and American political necessity. That is the measure of Western defeat.
It is little wonder that Putin has made clear that the preferable resolution of the conflict is on the battlefield, but that Russia remains open to settling the conflict via negotiations. Saying so does not imply a watering down of terms. The message is simpler: accept our demands now and spare lives or we will achieve our goals, even if it takes longer than we would wish.
Medium-Term Futures: NATO’s Coming Stress Test
One way or another, the war will end, possibly after Russia seizes the remainder of Donetsk and Zaporizhzhia oblasts and an extension to incorporate Odessa, and by pushing towards a regime change in Kiev. The strategic outcome, however, is already settled: the largest conventional military confrontation between the West and a peer adversary since 1945 has ended in Western defeat.
The decisive variable now is NATO cohesion. Russia’s strategy, so it seems, is to accelerate the divergence between a Washington desperate to declare “mission accomplished” and pivot to China, and a Europe that will be left holding a resentful, partitioned, demilitarised Ukraine on its eastern border. The UK, Germany, France, Poland, and the Baltic states have already signalled that the 28-point plan in its current form is unacceptable; yet their ability to sustain Ukrainian resistance without U.S. intelligence and munitions is close to zero.
While Washington doubtless cares little about whether a war continues against Russia - provided that it doesn’t involve them - few believe that Europe has any capacity to act autonomously. The next twelve months will reveal whether Europe’s much-vaunted “strategic autonomy” is anything more than rhetoric.
Asia Takes Notes
Across the capital of Asia, staff officers and intelligence analysts are watching the Kiev endgame with clinical attention. The lesson is crystallising. When domestic political costs mount, American security guarantees have an expiration date measured in election cycles. The spectacle of Washington forcing a dependent ally to sign away territory and its sovereignty, all to avoid a Kabul-style evacuation, will weigh heavily on every Asia-Pacific government calculating the credibility of U.S. extended deterrence against China.
From Saigon in 1975 to Kabul in 2021 to Kiev in 2026, the pattern is identical. The US overreaches, discovers the limits of its power, outsources the fighting to clients, and then negotiates exits whose primary purpose is to ensure that no serving president is recorded by history as the one who “lost” the war.
The Pentagon Papers showed that the Vietnam War after November 1965 was fought primarily to manage the optics of defeat. It took seven years. The 28-point peace plan, the Thanksgiving deadline, the throttling of intelligence feeds - these are the 2025 equivalents. The human cost is being paid, as always, by the people on the ground whose country was chosen as the arena.
History does not repeat itself, but it rhymes with chilling precision. Kiev is simply the latest stanza.