Because deference defeats deterrence

President Donald Trump listens as he meets with NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte in the Oval Office (PHOTO: (AP PHOTO/ALEX BRANDON)

West Wing Window: Et Tu Rutte

NATO’s Secretary General Mark Rutte didn’t fly to Washington to negotiate with the United States. He came to surrender; gracefully, diplomatically, and with a smile wide enough to hide the tremor in his alliance’s voice. Recently, NATO’s European capitals have come to terms with the fact that they face two stark choices: learn to do things Trump’s way, or learn to do them in Russian. Faced with that binary, the alliance decided it would rather embrace the route that involves less borscht.

The new Secretary General’s mission was about symmetry over summitry, and to ensure that NATO’s reflection matched the mood in Washington. Instead of showing up with red lines, he arrived with a carefully folded white flag. In a gaggle with the White House press corps outside the West Wing entrance, Rutte said his Oval Office visit was to “support President Trump’s vision of ending the killing in Ukraine,” and how he might help “ensure that Putin accepts the president’s view.” He even emphasized the pressure he’d been applying on Spain, the lone holdout against Trump’s new requirement that members contribute five percent of their GDP. The NATO chief sounded less like strategic doctrine and more like fan mail.

For a president famous for moving fast and breaking norms, the new Trump doctrine is surprisingly still, a ceasefire philosophy powered by inertia. This requires both sides to cease fire and launch negotiations. Rutte repeated it verbatim, confirming that the ceasefire philosophy once dismissed as naïve is now the northern alliance’s north star.

To be fair, the pragmatism isn’t irrational. Europe’s armies are depleted, its energy grids strained and its voters suffer from allergies to another winter of headlines about artillery duels along the Dnipro. The fear isn’t that Russia will overrun Warsaw, it’s that Washington will overrun the patience of Brussels. So Rutte’s mission was to ensure that NATO remains on Trump’s good side, even if it means redefining what “good side” means.

By the end of the week, the alliance had succeeded in winning, if not the war, then favor. The headlines spoke of alignment, understanding and “total confidence,” which translated from Diplomatese means NATO’s acceptance that Trump is no longer a variable, he’s the whole equation. And Trump, for his part, reciprocated, canceling a planned meeting with Putin. “Every time I speak with Vladimir, I have good conversations,” the president said in the Oval, “and then they don’t go anywhere.”

Meanwhile, Moscow’s top diplomats have been praising Trump for years. When Trump canceled his planned meeting with Putin, Moscow sighed theatrically, called it an “unfriendly step,” and reiterated its desire to develop a more friendly relationship.

For observers, it’s tempting to laugh. The NATO that once spoke truth to power now rehearses applause lines. The Russia that once threatened the West now courts its approval. And as NATO and Russia trade compliments across continents, the arms race of praise has only begun.

The two sides that faced off across barbed wire and nuclear stockpiles have found themselves in a race to out-admire the same man, while calculating the ideal ratio of praise to policy. And this week, NATO appears to be winning.

And Trump, ever the transactional maestro, lets them. He understands that in this game, attention is leverage. One offhand compliment about “strong leadership,” and entire governments recalibrate their rhetoric. The more they praise, the more power he accrues and the less he needs to use it.

From the Corps’ Core: Here Today, Pentagon Tomorrow

There was a time when the Pentagon could look away from a little leakage, in fact, it was part of the ecosystem. Leaks kept the system honest. They reminded the government that somewhere, somehow, someone was still paying attention. Now, the Pentagon has entered its trust-issues era.

Recently, the Department of War decided to plug up the pipes, rolling out new rules that dramatically tighten how journalists can cover America’s military headquarters. Under the new policy, reporters must sign an “access agreement” promising not to obtain or publish any “unauthorized information,” even if that information isn’t classified. Those who refuse to sign lose their credentials and office space inside the building. Movement within the Pentagon is also now heavily restricted, as journalists must be escorted in many areas and can no longer roam freely to talk with officials or staff.

As a result, major media outlets have opted out rather than accept what they see as censorship. Meanwhile, the Defense Department has introduced a so-called “next-generation press corps” made up largely of newer outlets or more ideologically-convenient podcasts that agreed to the rules. The Pentagon says the move is meant to protect sensitive material and prevent leaks, but critics argue it marks a sharp break from decades of open press access and could severely limit public oversight of the military.

Access doesn’t end with the press, as the new Pentagon rules also restrict communications with members of Congress, effectively extending the same firewall it built for journalists. According to a new memo, any communications between the department and Congress must be filtered through the Legislative Affairs Office at the Pentagon.

Both policies stem from the same strategic paranoia that too many voices can leak too much truth in too many directions. Together, these moves reveal an institution bracing for crisis; one that no longer trusts open dialogue, not with the media, not with lawmakers, perhaps not even with itself.

In a sense, the Pentagon’s new restrictions highlight just how sharply Trump’s worldview diverges from that of his predecessors. For decades, presidents assumed that America’s overwhelming economic and military superiority gave it the luxury of generosity, whether that meant underwriting NATO budgets, tolerating lopsided trade deals, or granting journalists almost unlimited access to the Defense Department. The implicit belief was that the United States was so far ahead it could afford to be open, magnanimous, even a bit careless. Trump’s administration operates from the opposite premise: that the margin of dominance has shrunk, and every leak or diplomatic freebie chips away at it. Where earlier presidents saw transparency as signs of confidence, Trump sees them as vulnerabilities; indulgences a superpower on the brink of confrontation with China can no longer afford.

The timing is no coincidence. Today, when troop movement can be monitored by homemade drones, the spy has been replaced by the influencer. As US-China tensions harden into an inevitable showdown, the administration understands that the first strike in post-modern warfare won’t come from a missile but from a psychological operation (PSYOP). And the Pentagon is adapting to that reality by trying to quarantine curiosity before it mutates into exposure.

Quote Quota

“The Russians lost over 20,000 people — dead, not seriously wounded — in one month. They lose now more in one month than they lost in ten years in the war in Afghanistan, in the 1980s.”  A government that treats its soldiers as disposable won’t treat Ukrainians as human. That’s the real terror in Rutte’s math: not what Russia has lost, but what it’s willing to lose, and what it’s prepared to take with it.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1084)