Negging Putin

The peace clock is ticking: Trump, the master manipulator, has set a 100-day deadline to end the Ukraine war and will deploy every huckster’s trick to bend Putin to his will.

Art of the Deal versus Strategic Statecraft

Donald Trump’s recent attempts to coax Vladimir Putin into negotiations bear an uncanny resemblance to the dating concept of “negging.” Negging is a manipulative tactic where someone delivers backhanded compliments or subtle insults to undermine their target’s confidence, often to make them seek approval or validation.

For example, a man in his forties might tell a date, “It’s so refreshing to talk to someone in my own age group. My exes were all much younger and never understood my cultural references. With you, I don’t have to explain every movie or band I mention.” While framed as a compliment, this subtly highlights her age—a perceived weakness—and encourages her to prove her worth despite it.

Negging preys on insecurities, creating a dynamic where the target feels compelled to win over the manipulator.

Is Trump’s preference for public grandstanding over behind-the-scenes diplomacy truly aimed only at influencing Russia? In any negotiation, especially one led by a party perceived as weaker, creating negotiating space within one’s own team is crucial. Trump’s statements seem designed to serve a dual purpose: they belittle and provoke Putin while also appealing to a domestic audience that revels in his tough-guy persona.

This approach may be less about influencing Russia and more about securing the backing of his base—a boomer-dominated audience hooked on the dopamine-inducing rhythms and outrage-driven narratives of American cable news, particularly Fox News. By playing to this crowd, Trump ensures their unwavering support before engaging with Putin, effectively solidifying his position at home before negotiating abroad.

Elite dealmakers excel in the art of covert salesmanship and subtle persuasion, relying on finesse and strategic manoeuvring to achieve their goals. Resorting to overt tactics like negging, however, can signal a weak hand—a lack of leverage or confidence in one’s position. In his apparent desperation to broker a peace deal between Russia and Ukraine, Trump’s approach reveals this lack of subtlety. By trying too hard, he risks appearing low-value in the high-stakes arena of international diplomacy. This was evident when Trump recently initiated the Ukrainian peace negotiation process with a post on his Truth Social network.

Trump begins his post by declaring his love for the Russian people and his respect for President Putin—two statements that must sound startling, if not outright disingenuous, to Russian ears. After years of harsh devaluation by Western media and politicians, are Russians and Americans now suddenly soulmates? But then comes the discordant note: with faint praise, Trump reduces Russia’s role in World War II to that of a modest proxy, claiming it merely “helped” America win the war while losing an astonishing “60,000,000 lives in the process.”

This framing not only diminishes the Soviet Union’s pivotal role in defeating Nazi Germany but also subtly undermines Russia’s historical legacy by exaggerating their already monumental sacrifices. By couching his critique in a veneer of admiration, Trump employs a classic negging tactic, simultaneously flattering and belittling his target.

From the perspective of addressing his base, Trump appears to be attempting to humanize Russia, albeit within a framework that reinforces deeply entrenched yet inaccurate American myths. The figure of 60,000,000 Russian casualties is particularly telling, as it more than doubles the widely accepted scholarly estimates of 25 to 27 million Soviet deaths during World War II. This inflated number, seemingly plucked from thin air, not only exaggerates the scale of the tragedy but also tacitly echoes the Holocaust’s reported death toll of 6,000,000 Jews, elevating Russian losses to almost mythic proportions. This tactic reinforces the narrative of massive Russian losses in Ukraine, aligning with Trump’s broader messaging.

Even more troubling, by framing these losses as exclusively Russian, Trump effectively erases the immense sacrifices of the Ukrainian Socialist Republic, which suffered an estimated eight million civilian and military deaths. While a minority of Ukrainians collaborated with the Nazis, the majority endured unimaginable suffering under occupation and combat. Trump’s rhetoric, intentionally or not, glosses over this complex history. Yet Ukrainians may be reluctant to challenge his narrative, as doing so would force them to confront the uncomfortable reality that Ukrainians and Russians fought side by side to defeat Nazism—a fact many Ukrainians would paradoxically prefer not to highlight.

Trump’s rhetoric appears designed to provoke a group narcissistic response from Russia, compelling them to rush to correct the historical record. By inflating Russian casualties to 60,000,000 and downplaying their role in World War II, Trump positions himself as the arbiter of historical narratives, forcing Russians to justify their past and validate their significance. In doing so, he reinforces his image as the dominant global leader—a figure to whom others must qualify themselves. Whether intentional or not, this strategy aligns with his broader pattern of leveraging provocation to assert dominance on the global stage.

Previously, Trump claimed that Russia has lost one million men in Ukraine—a figure wildly exaggerated compared to more realistic estimates of around 100,000 Russian dead. However, Trump’s base has been subjected to nearly three years of Western information warfare that has relentlessly proclaimed Russia’s supposed failures in the conflict. This powerful false consciousness, deeply embedded in the media-consuming American psyche, makes it impossible for Trump to abruptly reveal the truth: that Russia is, in fact, winning the war in Ukraine.

To shift public opinion on key issues, Trump must remain rhetorically “anchored” to many of these established narratives, even as he subtly introduces alternative perspectives. This balancing act allows him to challenge certain assumptions while avoiding a full break from the prevailing discourse, ensuring his message resonates with an audience conditioned by years of propaganda.

Trump also asserted that Russia’s economy is failing, another attempt to diminish Putin’s standing. While it’s true that Russia’s economy has faced significant challenges due to sanctions and the costs of the war in Ukraine, claiming it is outright “failing” is simply incorrect. NATO’s Secretary General, Mark Rutte, recently admitted:

When you look what Russia is producing now in three months, it's what all of NATO is producing from Los Angeles up to Ankara in a full year, and then Russia is not bigger than the Netherlands and Belgium combined as an economy, the two of you together is the Russian economy, and they're producing in three months what the whole of NATO is producing in the year. And don't forget, when you compare Russian numbers, that what you can buy in Russia for the same money is, of course, much more because they do not have our high salaries. They don't have our bureaucracy. They can move at a higher speed, and they have basically created a war economy, and the whole industry is now on a war footing.

Under the rubric of “all accusations are confessions,” Trump appears to be projecting the West’s economic troubles onto Russia. Measured in Purchasing Power Parity (PPP), the IMF, World Bank, and CIA all rank Russia as the world’s fourth-largest economy. Meanwhile, since 2000, the West has been in an economic freefall—particularly severe in Europe, but also acute in the U.S., which has fallen to second place in global rankings, far behind the new economic gold medalist: China. Trump’s attempts to paint Russia’s economy as failing seem less about reality and more about deflecting attention from the West’s own decline—a classic case of psychological projection.

As the front in Ukraine has slowly but steadily crept westward, European and American information warfare efforts have shifted their focus to Russia’s economy, seeking to reinforce an implicit “stay the course” narrative. While inflation is high and labor shortages persist, these factors have also driven rising salaries that keep pace with commodity prices, stabilizing living standards for many. This stands in sharp contrast to the West, where living standards are plummeting as prices soar while wages stagnate or rise only marginally.

As Rutte’s comments highlight, Russia has adeptly transformed its economy into a garrison state. While producing arms at such a high rate while maintaining macroeconomic stability is unsustainable in the midterm, Trump’s rhetorical flourishes may be serving as cover for the weakness of Western arms production. Reports indicate that U.S. arms shipments to Ukraine have been paused for 90 days. The immediate impact of this cutoff is softened by the Biden Administration’s frontloading of arms into Ukraine during its final months. However, this pause may explain Trump’s insistence on reaching a peace agreement within 100 days. His military advisors may have warned him that, without U.S. weapons, Ukraine risks an Afghanistan-style military collapse by summer.

So far, Putin’s response to Trump’s attempts at negging has been well-calculated: rather than engaging directly or taking the bait, he has deftly fed the Orange Man a heavy dose of his own narcissistic supply. By agreeing with and amplifying Trump’s resentment over the 2020 election results, Putin reinforces Trump’s grievances, playing into his need for validation and vindication. This strategy not only flatters Trump’s ego but also allows Putin to amplify the narrative of the U.S. as a corrupt, failing state—a framing that serves Russian interests. In doing so, Putin leverages Trump’s insecurities and desire for admiration to maintain a strategic upper hand and further divide the American ruling class.

In any upcoming meeting with Trump, Ukraine will be the last topic Putin wants to discuss. Russia’s primary focus lies in reshaping Europe’s security architecture and laying the groundwork for a future Eurasia-wide security framework. From Moscow’s perspective, the ultimate leverage Trump holds is his ability to withdraw the U.S. from Europe—a move that would fundamentally alter the geopolitical landscape. If Trump were to propose this, Putin would undoubtedly take notice. After all, most, if not all, of Russia’s security concerns would vanish if American troops and influence were removed from the continent. In exchange, Russia might be willing to adopt a more reasonable stance on Ukraine, potentially offering concessions to secure such a historic shift.

However, the critical question for Putin is whether he can trust that any American withdrawal would actually occur—and, more importantly, that it would be permanent. The spectre of a future U.S. president, such as a hypothetical President Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez in 2029, reversing course and ordering American troops back into Europe looms large in Russian calculations.

Would Trump actually resort to such “future faking,” a manipulative tactic often employed by narcissists? This strategy involves dangling enticing promises of future rewards, commitments, or changes to keep their target emotionally invested. Typically, these promises are vague, unrealistic, or endlessly deferred, designed to maintain control without any real intention of follow-through.

There is an inherent tension in U.S.-Russia negotiations: while Trump’s transactional approach might offer short-term opportunities, the lack of trust and the unpredictability of American politics make it nearly impossible for long-term oriented Russia to rely on any promises of lasting change. It’s practically a cliché in Russia to assert that the United States is not agreement-capable.

So why would Russia negotiate with Trump? Primarily to stoke anger and instability within the Ukrainian ruling class. If Zelensky appears too eager to make a deal, the radical right militias might overthrow him. If he refuses to negotiate, a populist leader could emerge, embodying the Ukrainian people’s war weariness.

Ukrainian Military Strikes?

Meanwhile, Ukraine’s embattled President Zelensky is justifiably filled with righteous outrage at the sudden disrespect he is enduring from Trump. The analogy of callously dumping a side chick feels almost too polite to describe how the U.S. is cutting ties and abandoning Ukraine. Zelensky, if nothing else, is a ruthless and calculating leader, unafraid to take enormous gambles—as his ill-fated incursion into Kursk demonstrated. While his rhetoric often veers into the messianic and unrealistic, Zelensky remains acutely aware of the grim reality: the only way to stave off total defeat is to provoke a massive Western intervention.

With this in mind—and this is pure speculation on my part—Zelensky may decide to take a monumental gamble. By allowing the lines in south Donetsk to collapse rapidly, he could test whether such a crisis would force the West to intervene. This collapse is already unfolding in slow motion, but Zelensky could accelerate the process by transferring troops from this front to Kursk, further weakening Ukraine’s defensive posture. With Trump halting arms shipments to Ukraine for 90 days, Zelensky could plausibly pin the blame for the military collapse squarely on the U.S. administration.

Surrounded Ukrainians in Velikaya Novoselka

Such a radical move—effectively a general strike—could be justified by the ongoing disaster in the south Donetsk town of Velikaya Novoselka, where the Ukrainian military command refused to order a withdrawal as Russian forces encircled their troops. Only now, after being fully surrounded, are the beleaguered Ukrainians retreating—at the cost of devastating losses. This pattern has plagued Ukraine throughout the war: a Hitlerian refusal to consider tactical withdrawals from untenable positions, resulting in unnecessary sacrifices. Is Zelensky attempting to impress his Western sponsors with these heroic yet futile displays? The human cost of such stubbornness is staggering, raising questions about whether his strategy is driven by military necessity or the need to perform ritual sacrifices for his international backers.

Adding to this is the humiliation Zelensky would feel if excluded from the upcoming Putin-Trump summit. Ukrainians would see him as a corporate underling who slaves through all-nighters to prepare for a crucial client meeting, only to discover he isn’t invited—and his boss will present instead. For Zelensky, whose leadership is built on his role as Ukraine’s global advocate, such an exclusion would be a profound blow, both personally and politically. It would confirm his diminishing leverage and amplify the sense that Ukraine’s fate is being decided without its voice at the table. This humiliation could further fuel his desperation to force a dramatic shift in the conflict, even if it means taking unprecedented risks.

Trump is acutely aware that he could be blamed if, after cutting off weapons, Russian troops surge across the Dnieper. If Kiev orders their army to retreat under the pretext of saving lives, combined with Putin’s refusal to take a knee, Zelensky may be able to force Trump’s hand, compelling a military intervention to save face—or at least expose Trump’s abandonment of Ukraine to the world. Much like Nixon, who inherited the blame for America’s defeat in Vietnam despite the war being provoked and escalated under Lyndon Johnson, if he is not careful, Trump could ineptly take the “L” for Ukraine in Biden’s stead under the rubric of “you break it, you buy it.”