When a reporter asked Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, “Do you own a suit?” at the White House “showdown,” it struck a nerve. Let me amend that: it tickled a funny bone.
Amidst Zelensky’s diplomatic wrong-way-run and the Trump-Vance gang tackle, while discussing potential endgames in a tragic war, came the glimmer of humor. Where the fuck is Zelensky’s suit?
Zelensky passed the question off as trivial—it is, given the overall context—and Trump didn’t get into it. But the question remains, and has mostly to do with expectations. Culturally-speaking, we expect to see heads of states wearing suits. When they wear militaristic garb, like Fidel Castro always did, there’s a sense of unease, as if the wearer may not exactly be the best person, diplomatically, to be engaged in top level talks.
There are diametric positions on Zelensky’s G.I. Joe fatigues. His adherents say that the president of this invaded country is showing solidarity with the hundreds of thousands of his countrymen lost in battle. Others, those who believe Zelensky is a corrupt grifter, point out that he’s never been on a battlefield, and find that the sweatpants-and-logo outfit renders him a caricature of a warrior.
As this is written, real diplomats, the guys in the suits, are trying to recalibrate the negotiations. Zelensky has revealed himself as either too understandably passionate, or, awkwardly unqualified, for a seat at the table. As President Trump pointed out at the calamitous meet, without the aid provided by the United States, under both Trump 45 and President Biden, President Putin would’ve dispatched the Ukrainian Army as fast as Trump pounded ISIS into the sand. Nobody, not even Zelensky, disputes that.
Another Trump talking point that strikes at the heart of the deal: the European Union has given $100 billion toward the defense of Zelensky’s besieged nation, in the form of a loan, while America has given $350 billion, no strings attached. Zelensky’s maladroit inability to acknowledge American largesse was the fumble that collapsed the dialogue.
This lack of essential parity across the playing fields of both foreign aid and trade imbalances are fundamental to why Trump was elected. He campaigned with promises to address this. He’s now looking to end the carnage in Ukraine, and while many find his wheeling and dealing on rare-earth compensation for our javelin missiles as mercenary, what’s the alternative? A plurality of Americans are ready to withdraw Zelensky’s blank check.
Will Europe go whole-hog against Putin? Can Putin be coerced with a carrot or stick to stand down, perhaps even abandon some or all of the roughly 20 percent of Ukraine his troops have taken? Will Zelensky, after consulting with cooler heads in his high echelon, sign the mineral rights deal understanding that an American economic presence in his country may be the best option for restraining Russian aggression? Or, worst case, will Ukraine be left flopping in this apocalyptic breeze, going it alone, importing real mercenaries to continue a fight that everybody knows will be a losing cause.
Setting aside the comic relief of Zelensky’s fashion choice, Trump and America represent the best hope for peace.
