Power as Translation
The paradoxes of vassalage, the Ukraine war coalition and the limits of power
The war in Ukraine is not a clash between Russia and Ukraine, but a confrontation between Russia and a coalition of Western powers led by the United States. Yet the coalition itself is anything but unitary. Europeans, Ukrainians and Americans all approach the conflict from distinct vantage points, shaped by competing interests and divergent priorities. Understanding how such a coalition can nonetheless function as a relatively coherent bloc requires a shift in how we think about power.
This matters because amidst the cacophony of commentary about the recent round of meetings in Anchorage (Putin-Trump) and Washington (Trump-Zelensky; then Trump+EU+NATO), there is a lot of talk about European subordination or vassalisation but little explanation as to why Trump has not simply “laid down the law”. The idea of being a vassal - drawn from feudal relationships - means that the subordinated party owes allegiance to the ‘lord’ and provides services, loyalty, and sometimes tribute, in exchange for protection and certain rights from the lord. The implication is that, as the vassal is obliged to the ‘lord’, the ‘lord’ can command the vassal’s actions. In this set-up, the ‘lord’ has power over the vassal.
Yet, while in many ways such a description captures what appears to be the relationship between Zelensky’s Ukraine and a cornerstone of European leaders with the United States, the absence of clarity of direction and conviction of action arising from these meetings suggests that the idea of ‘power’ needs further exploration. Why is it that Trump cannot or does not simply command the subordinated Europeans to do as he wishes? How is it that Zelensky and the others don’t simply cave to Trump’s command, but interject and seek to cajole Trump to their priorities and demands? Subordinated vassals they may well be, but there’s more to the story.
Bruno Latour, in his seminal essay ‘The Powers of Association’ (1984), argued that power is not a substance possessed by an actor, but the effect of successfully aligning and stabilising a network of relationships. Authority emerges when actors are persuaded to translate their own interests into those of a broader project, and when they are enrolled into roles that sustain that project. Power is a consequence, not a cause. For Latour, power also is a paradox: when one actor exercises power, it is the others that act, thereby exercising the power of agency themselves. Michel Callon’s classic study of French marine biologists and scallop fishermen at St. Brieuc (1986) provides an apt illustration. The biologists sought to preserve declining scallop stocks by enrolling fishermen, molluscs and institutions into their scientific framework. For a moment they appeared powerful, but once fishermen defected, the network unravelled and their authority dissolved.
What appears as command from above is in fact a fragile alignment of heterogeneous actors, each of whom always retains the possibility of resisting, defecting or redefining the project. Seen through this lens, the Ukraine coalition can be understood as a precarious process of translation and enrolment in which the United States government is one - arguably the principal - actor amongst a network of others.
Translation and enrolment
The United States has been the orchestrator of the coalition. It has been the leader of NATO, and its principal financial contributor ever since the organisation’s founding. The occupant of the White House and others inside the Washington Beltway have, since 2014 at the very least, been actively involved in instigating the unfolding events in Ukraine since the Maidan Square protests and subsequent coup. Who can forget Victoria Nuland handing out cookies at the square, or her expletive-laden summation of how she (and the US by extension) viewed the EU. Let’s not forget the late Senator John McCain, who also celebrated the defeat of the Russia-leaning leading of Ukraine in the Maidan putsch.
More recently, the U.S. translated the war that eventually broke out into the familiar language of global order, deterrence, NATO cohesion, and the defence of democracy. Through the provision of weapons, intelligence, financing, and diplomatic cover, Washington attempts to enrol others into roles that sustain this framing. Europeans are asked to shoulder economic costs, absorb energy shocks and provide political legitimacy. Ukrainians are tasked with carrying the human burden of fighting, having been offered the prospects of one day joining NATO and becoming a member of the EU. The United States plays the role of technological and organisational leader. Each of these functions acts, in Latour’s terms, as an “obligatory passage point”: to pursue their own aims, Europeans and Ukrainians must operate through American channels of support. American power appears commanding because others consent to play the roles assigned to them.
The paradox of power
This is the paradox of power that Latour speaks of. What looks like unilateral command is in fact the effect of successful association. The United States cannot truly dictate outcomes; it can only align others’ actions with its own agenda. European governments retain leverage through their ability to shape public opinion and mobilise domestic resources. Ukraine retains decisive agency by its willingness to fight and its determination to set the terms of its survival.
Just as the scallop network unravelled once fishermen lost faith, the Ukraine coalition would falter if Europeans or Ukrainians ceased to see American leadership as aligned with their own interests, or that these actors began to refashion their own assessment of what their interests are. Power here is not a possession but a performance, always dependent on fragile alignments.
Trump and the attempt at re-translation
This fragility becomes even more visible with Donald Trump’s predilections for performative politics, as he seeks to shape the Ukraine war in ways that suit his own purposes (whatever they may be). It’s clear enough that Trump seeks to re-translate the coalition’s purpose; rhetorically at least, he aims to shift away from “fighting until victory” and toward a rapid settlement with Moscow, even without a ceasefire as an interim step. He abandoned the idea of a ceasefire first, after his recent meeting with Putin in Anchorage.
Yet, Europeans and Ukrainians resist this translation. For them, a premature settlement looks less like peace and more like betrayal. Germany’s Chancellor Friedrich Merz tried to resuscitate the idea of a ceasefire first, at the White House gathering, but Trump cut him off. Talk of security guarantees remains vague. Europeans interpret them as a reinforcement of NATO-style commitments, while Trump imagines a looser arrangement with less American burden. He speaks of American “coordination”, whatever that means. Zelensky, meanwhile, counters Trump’s overtures by offering to buy more munitions, but the American industrial system is already stretched and cannot produce enough, regardless of funding.
In Latour’s terms, Trump is attempting to reshape the obligatory passage points through which the war is organised. But translation is never unilateral. Others interpret the meaning of “peace” differently, and their refusal to accept without push-back the roles Trump assigns dilutes his authority. He cannot command Zelensky to surrender territory or compel Europeans to abandon their sense of vulnerability and their associated desire to fight on (with Americans at their back, of course). The risk Trump runs is that the very actors he must enrol see his proposals as a repudiation of their security and their “values”. He is compelled to shape the passage points in ways that are also amenable to the perspectives of his European and Ukrainian vassals; how paradoxical. He thus floats notions of “security guarantees”, even talking about the possibility of American airforce hardware providing cover, while refusing to commit U.S. “boots on the ground”. The Europeans for their part seek to reshape the passage by offering to purchase military hardware and armaments from the Americans, thereby enabling the continuation of the war but in ways that satisfy Trump’s need to withdraw financial commitments.
As such, Trump’s problems are not only external. Within Washington itself he faces entrenched networks committed to continuing the war effort. Congressional leaders, the Pentagon, and a dense web of think-tank and media actors have their own translations of the war. For them, the war is framed as a test of U.S. credibility, NATO cohesion and great power rivalry. Deep-seated antipathy towards Russia remains a dominant leitmotif. These forces are not passive instruments of presidential will. They are actors that must also be enrolled, and their continued support is vital to sustaining Trump’s domestic authority.
If he pushes too hard for a settlement, Trump risks alienating these Beltway actors and facing a collapse of political support on Capitol Hill. In Latour’s terms, his own domestic coalition may defect, undermining his ability to govern. Trump thus finds himself in a double bind: he cannot simply compel Europeans and Ukrainians abroad via diktat, whatever the visual atmospherics of the meeting in the White House may suggest, nor can he easily overcome entrenched networks at home. His apparent power depends on networks that may not accept his attempted re-translation.
And then, there’s Russia
And beyond these internal dynamics lies the most decisive actor of all. I speak of Russia. Unlike the fractious Western alliance, Russia has demonstrated relative cohesion in its objectives. Whatever Trump seeks to do in terms of reshaping the Western coalition will amount to little unless Russia also agrees to be enrolled into this new configuration of roles. Yet none of the proposals circulating among Europeans, or from Trump himself, address what Moscow regards as the root causes of the conflict. Need one be reminded that for Russia, the root causes are NATO’s expansion, Ukraine’s status and the architecture of European security. Talk of European troop in Ukraine as part of a “security guarantee” has been rejected before, and was again rejected by Russia’s foreign minister Sergei Lavrov. De facto NATO-isation of Ukraine simply won’t wash, even if that’s the refashioned coalition that Trump seems to be orchestration.
From a Latour-inspired perspective, Russia’s posture is decisive. A network can only stabilise if all key actors are translated into a shared frame. If Russia refuses the roles envisioned for it in a Trump-led settlement, the attempt collapses before it begins. The theatre of summits - whether in Anchorage or in staged meetings at the White House - cannot substitute for genuine alignment. In fact, such spectacles may only underscore Europe’s dependence and humiliation, while leaving the fundamental contradiction unresolved. The war will, therefore, continue and its trajectory remain unchanged.
Trump therefore risks coming up empty-handed. He may press Europeans and Ukrainians to accept his re-translation, and he may attempt to tame Beltway resistance at home. But without Russia’s consent to a reconfigured network, the entire exercise remains hollow. The paradox of power is once again laid bare. Even the most ambitious re-translation falters when a central actor refuses enrolment.
Fragility of alignment
The Western coalition, then, is revealed as doubly fragile. Abroad, Europeans and Ukrainians resist Trump’s effort to redefine the war. At home, Beltway institutions and political actors threaten to withhold support if he deviates too far from their established narrative. The paradox of power reappears with full force. The U.S. president looks like the most powerful figure in the coalition, yet his authority evaporates the moment others refuse the roles he assigns.
Latour and Callon’s insights help us see coalition politics in a different light. The United States’ leadership is not a matter of unilateral command but of ongoing enrolment and translation. Trump’s attempt to re-translate the coalition toward a negotiated peace exposes the fragility of these alignments. Europeans and Ukrainians reject what they see as betrayal, while domestic actors in Washington threaten to withhold support.
Power in this context is never absolute. It is always an effect of association, precariously sustained through negotiation, persuasion and compromise. The Ukraine coalition, like the scallop network in Callon’s study, appears stable only as long as the actors continue to perform their assigned roles. Once they resist, the appearance of command dissolves. Trump’s dilemma illustrates this paradox starkly. Even the president of the United States cannot dictate outcomes, but must struggle, like any other actor, to hold together the fragile networks on which his authority depends.