The Humanitarian

Trump’s envoy salutes Putin, Washington waives sanctions, and Ukraine offers a ceasefire. Moscow keeps firing missiles while America’s allies wonder who is calling the shots.

Good morning! Donald Trump flew to South Carolina on Wednesday to rescue a Senate seat Republicans have held since 1964, then spent 93 minutes in Clemson University’s livestock arena chewing the same old cud. The Nobel Prize he didn’t win, Lake America, the “Trump Strait,” the weightlifter routine and the $5,000 “Trump dividend” that only about one in five likely voters believes he’ll actually deliver all made appearances. The material hasn’t improved with repetition. Buried among the reruns, though, were a few moments worth keeping.

About 20 minutes in, amid a procession of hecklers being escorted out of the building (at least 11 by the end), a rallygoer appeared to punch a protester on the floor in front of the stage. Trump watched, asked who threw the punch, compared the man to Evander Holyfield, who happened to be in attendance, and announced to cheers that the protester “got whacked.” He then assessed the protester’s physical appearance, pronouncing him “a really unattractive guy.” The leader of the free world had become a ringside commentator, complete with insults for the person who’d been hit.

He reserved his more consequential attacks for Annie Andrews, the pediatrician running against Sen. Darline Graham. Trump called her “Tranny Annie,” an anti-transgender slur he first aimed at her on Truth Social earlier this month. Andrews isn’t transgender. Nor does she support gender surgery for minors, despite Trump’s repeated accusations. Those procedures are already illegal in South Carolina, although Andrews supports other forms of gender-affirming care. None of those distinctions troubled the president. He called her a “mutilizer” and demanded that her medical license be revoked. Then he went further: “Take it away. And she should not be allowed to run for office.” Apparently, the president would prefer to spare South Carolina voters the inconvenience of having two major-party candidates to choose from. Election Day was thirteen days away.

Another boast managed to sound like an admission. While celebrating missile strikes on suspected drug-trafficking boats, Trump claimed the operations had “totally killed the fishing industry” in the oceans and the Gulf because fishermen were afraid of being hit by American missiles. He delivered this as though it were another measure of success. Not generally the sort of economic development announcement that earns a ribbon-cutting.

The occasion for all this was Graham, a political newcomer appointed to the Senate seat previously held by her late brother Lindsey. The Cook Political Report moved her race from “likely” to “lean Republican” this week, an unwelcome development in a state Trump carried by nearly 18 points two years ago. Days earlier, Graham had publicly disagreed with Trump over his decision to waive Russian sanctions enacted under a law bearing her brother’s name. Onstage Wednesday, she assured the president he would “always be part of the Graham family.” Her brother’s sanctions legislation never came up, proving there are subjects even a 93-minute Trump speech can avoid.

Trump did mention Russia, however. Near the end, he celebrated the release of an American prisoner, presenting it as another triumph of his personal relationship with Vladimir Putin. His explanations earlier in the day had been considerably more complicated.

Stephen Hubbard’s return is genuinely welcome news. The 74-year-old retired teacher from Michigan was living in eastern Ukraine when Russian forces detained him in 2022. A Moscow court later convicted him of fighting as a mercenary, a charge his family has always disputed. He was the last American the State Department had formally designated as wrongfully detained in Russia, although other Americans remain imprisoned there. On Wednesday, he was handed over to Steve Witkoff in St. Petersburg and put on a plane home.

Explaining what it took to get him there proved considerably more difficult.

The first account came on Truth Social. Russia released Hubbard “out of respect for President Trump,” he wrote, adding that the United States was “not required to give anything in return” and that no prisoner swap was necessary.

The second came a few hours later, as Trump talked to reporters before leaving for South Carolina. Asked why he hadn’t imposed new sanctions on Russia, he said doing so would have cost him Hubbard. “If I would have done that, you would not have Mr. Hubbard coming back right now,” he insisted. Sanctions would bring negotiations “immediately to an end,” leaving Hubbard in prison for another 25 years. The actual sentence was six years and ten months, demonstrating that even Russian prison terms are subject to Trumperbole.

Five days earlier, Trump had signed an order waiving major new sanctions provisions Congress enacted under a law named for Lindsey Graham. The certification sent to Congress invoked the “national interests of the United States”; its accompanying explanation said imposing the sanctions would impede negotiations to end Russia’s war against Ukraine. Hubbard wasn’t mentioned.

The third account came at the rally that evening. Trump described calling Putin and asking for a favor. Putin, in this telling, simply replied, “Yep, you can have him.”

So which was it: a favor requiring nothing in return, or negotiations that depended on withholding sanctions? There may have been no prisoner swap, but sparing Russia new sanctions was hardly giving nothing.

When an ABC News reporter pressed Trump on precisely that point, asking whether withholding sanctions to secure Hubbard’s release amounted to giving Moscow something, he didn’t explain the distinction. He called the reporter “a stupid person” and the network “the worst of all.” A CNN reporter questioning the sanctions decision was told, “You’re a dummy” and “You’re a low IQ person.” Two reporters, two insults, and the same unanswered question.

Defenders can fairly point out that hostage diplomacy frequently involves difficult compromises. Joe Biden exchanged the Russian arms dealer Viktor Bout for Brittney Griner, and his administration acknowledged the exchange. There is no public evidence of an explicit sanctions-for-Hubbard agreement, and securing the release of a wrongfully detained American is a legitimate diplomatic objective.

But Trump’s own explanation raises a question about leverage. He says he can impose sanctions whenever he wants, yet insists he couldn’t impose them without ending the negotiations. Preserving Putin’s willingness to talk has become a reason not to use the economic pressure Congress authorized. The guy who insists nobody negotiates better than he does spent part of Wednesday explaining why he couldn’t afford to upset the man across the table.

On the same day Hubbard walked free, Russia announced the arrest of a German national accused of serving in Ukraine’s military. The FSB offered no details about when or where the man was detained, and its allegations remain unverified.

And in St. Petersburg, Witkoff had a few words for his host.

“You talk so much about my president, President Trump, being a humanitarian,” Witkoff told Putin as their meeting opened. “You are a humanitarian also, sir, and I salute that, I commend you, and I thank you again.”

It is worth pausing on what, exactly, was being saluted. Two days earlier, on Monday, a Russian Shahed drone struck a park beside a café in Nova Vodolaha, a small town in Ukraine’s Kharkiv region. Six people were killed, two of them children, and 15 were wounded, seven of them children. The youngest of the dead was a little girl named Anhelina, born in August 2025, who died in her stroller. Her mother, Inna, died later in the hospital. Their families were still mourning when Witkoff offered his tribute.

That same Monday, hours after Russia fired 16 ballistic missiles at Kyiv and struck 28 energy facilities across Ukraine, President Trump told reporters outside the White House: “Russia, frankly, has been fine on Ukraine. They haven’t been doing much.”

The humanitarian’s résumé runs a little longer. Ukraine has verified more than 20,000 cases of children deported or forcibly transferred by Russia, while Yale’s Humanitarian Research Lab estimates the number of children needing to be traced exceeds 35,000. RFE/RL investigators obtained a document calculating how Russian strikes could cut electricity to Kyiv, Kharkiv and Odesa by as much as 90 percent this winter. Its authorship remains uncertain, but Russia’s continuing attacks on Ukrainian power infrastructure are not in dispute. And the International Criminal Court has had a warrant out for Putin’s arrest since 2023 over the unlawful deportation and transfer of Ukrainian children.

For once, Republicans noticed. Sen. Thom Tillis of North Carolina posted “WTF, Steve?” and suggested Witkoff consult a dictionary. Sen. John Cornyn of Texas, not known as a Trump critic, called Putin a “stone cold killer.” Rep. Don Bacon of Nebraska called it “another embarrassment,” which suggests he’s keeping a list. Democratic Sen. Mark Kelly asked in what world Putin could be considered a humanitarian.

The administration defended the compliment. Vice President JD Vance said he agreed with Witkoff “saying something nice to a person who just released an American hostage,” which is one way to describe a man whose government held that hostage for four years. Trump offered a more measured endorsement: “I guess you could say for that particular purpose” Putin is a humanitarian. Humanitarian on a per-transaction basis, then.

After Witkoff’s meeting, the Kremlin said Putin was willing in principle to resume three-way talks with the United States and Ukraine after the American midterms. Hours later, Zelensky said Russia fired 21 ballistic missiles toward Kyiv in three waves, while Ukraine’s air force reported 210 drones launched across the country. He reported two people killed and 34 wounded nationwide.

The barrage is all the more striking given what Witkoff had carried into the room. The day before, in Oslo, Ukraine had offered something Trump has demanded for months.

On Tuesday, Zelensky flew to Oslo with a proposal for ending the war. Norwegian Prime Minister Jonas Gahr Støre hosted the talks alongside Finland’s President Alexander Stubb, with representatives from Britain, France, Germany, Poland, the European Union and NATO. Ukraine had specifically requested the participation of Trump’s envoys. Steve Witkoff came in person; Jared Kushner dialed in. Zelensky called the meeting productive. Secretary of State Marco Rubio agreed that it had been positive, with nothing unexpected.

The next morning, Zelensky went on Fox News, of all places, and said Ukraine would accept a ceasefire freezing the war along its current front lines. “Right now, we have to freeze,” he said, calling it a way to end the war. That wouldn’t mean surrendering legal claims to occupied Ukrainian territory. It would mean stopping the fighting where it stands, then negotiating security guarantees with the United States and Europe, with Ukraine at the table for decisions about its own future.

That’s a significant concession from a country still fighting to recover occupied territory. It’s also substantially what Trump has been demanding for months, usually while blaming Zelensky for the war. As recently as Monday, Trump suggested Ukraine needed “somebody else to negotiate” on its behalf.

Witkoff carried the Oslo proposals to St. Petersburg. Putin’s foreign policy aide, Yuri Ushakov, dismissed the new European and Ukrainian positions as containing little of value. The Kremlin offered no immediate ceasefire, only the prospect of future talks.

Kyiv had publicly embraced the ceasefire approach Washington wanted. Moscow offered more talks and kept firing missiles.

Ukraine was making that offer with some of its defensive capabilities still impaired. Since October 14, restrictions on the military-grade Starlink service have limited the speed at which Ukrainian drones can maintain satellite connections, disrupting both strikes against Russian targets and efforts to intercept incoming drones. Military analyst Michael Kofman has described the operational consequences. Rep. Don Bacon, after a bipartisan call with Zelensky, said the restrictions were still preventing Ukrainian forces from effectively tracking fast-moving jet-powered drones. He also reported that expected Patriot interceptors remained on hold.

Those are separate problems, but both affect Ukraine’s ability to protect its population. American early-warning intelligence on Russian missile launches resumed after the Oslo talks, a welcome development. The satellite restrictions and delays involving some Patriot transfers remained unresolved.

Who ordered the slowdown? For days, the explanations contradicted one another. Musk said Starshield restrictions were determined by the military and ultimately the president. Trump insisted he hadn’t been involved and didn’t know who was responsible. Rubio called reports of White House involvement “categorically false.” Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth said the Pentagon had issued no directive and pointed instead to SpaceX’s terms of service.

Then The Wall Street Journal reported that Musk himself had ordered the restrictions after discussions with administration officials. The paper also reported that Musk and Trump had both been angry about Ukrainian strikes on Russian diesel refineries, which Trump blames for rising fuel prices.

And this morning brought another development. According to the Journal, Trump called Musk and asked him to lift the restrictions. American and Ukrainian officials reported that the service was functioning more normally on Thursday, although it had not been fully restored.

So Trump apparently knew whom to call to get the restrictions lifted. Who authorized them in the first place, and under what authority, remains unanswered.

Meanwhile, Ukrainian troops had been trying to intercept Russian drones with communications systems that couldn’t keep up. The distinction between government authority and a billionaire’s contractual discretion was of considerably less use to the people beneath those drones.

European governments have become practiced at criticizing Washington’s Russia policy while trying to preserve the alliance. Lately, the criticism has been considerably more conspicuous than the diplomacy.

On October 12, three days after Trump announced his Russian diesel deal, EU foreign ministers meeting in Luxembourg approved 1,569 new sanctions listings against companies and executives supplying Russia’s war machine, the largest single addition yet. The measures were already in development, but the contrast was unmistakable. As Washington eased restrictions on Russian diesel, Brussels tightened the screws. The bloc’s foreign policy chief, Kaja Kallas, urged the United States to impose sanctions of its own. Lithuania’s foreign minister said the diesel deal was “not the European way.” Ireland’s called it concerning.

By the end of the week, the European Council had put its disapproval in writing. Its leaders’ joint statement said the Council “regrets” the American decision to lift sanctions on Russian diesel, which is about as close as 27 governments get to collectively rolling their eyes. Commission President Ursula von der Leyen noted that Russia hadn’t respected Trump’s much-announced “energy ceasefire” for a single minute and said the answer was more pressure, not less. Emmanuel Macron said the diesel deal sent a negative message, created mistrust and wouldn’t lower prices anyway. Germany stood by its sanctions. Britain pledged to maintain pressure on Moscow rather than ease it.

Matthias Matthijs of the Council on Foreign Relations identified the deeper problem: for many European leaders, Trump’s diesel deal is further evidence that they can no longer depend on the United States to contain Russia. After years of Washington lecturing Europe about buying Russian energy, the American president was now easing restrictions on Russian diesel without consulting his allies. That’s quite a reversal for an alliance that spent more than three-quarters of a century making American power the foundation of European security.

The commentary has been less diplomatic. In Australia, Peter Hartcher, political and international editor of The Sydney Morning Herald, argues that Trump isn’t merely accommodating Putin but becoming more like him. He identifies a dozen points of convergence, from defiance of judicial restraints to territorial ambitions. On LBC in London, James O’Brien watched Witkoff praise Putin as a humanitarian and described the envoy cozying up to a war criminal “in terms that would embarrass a teenage poet.” Hard to improve on that.

The diplomatic costs are becoming clearer. Whether Trump’s accommodations of Putin offer him any political advantage at home is another question.

There’s a peculiar political problem with Trump’s Russia policy: even some of the people he needs on his side are publicly opposing it.

This month’s Fox News poll put his approval at 36 percent, a record low. Reuters/Ipsos has him at 31, with Democrats leading Republicans by 12 points on the congressional ballot. Even among Republicans, Fox found his approval at 76 percent, down 16 points since early in his second term. Back in April, Pew found that two-thirds of Americans weren’t confident in his decisions on the war in Ukraine.

His own party is breaking ranks in public. A dozen senators signed a letter calling the diesel deal a betrayal of the people of Ukraine. Rep. Brian Fitzpatrick of Pennsylvania, in a tough race of his own, has promised hearings into who throttled Ukraine’s satellite service. Senators are posting dictionary definitions at the president’s envoy. And the Senate candidate he flew in to rescue on Wednesday had already said he was wrong about the sanctions.

Matthijs’s argument about high fuel prices ahead of November 3 offers a political explanation for the diesel deal. It does far less to explain Witkoff calling Putin a humanitarian, Trump saying Russia had been “fine on Ukraine” on the day a Russian drone killed a toddler, or the president defending his approach as Republican lawmakers object.

Hartcher’s answer is that this stopped being a policy a while ago and became something more personal: a president modeling himself on the strongman he admires. Hartcher’s explanation is psychological, and the president’s private motivations remain unknowable. What we can measure is the political cost of his decisions, and the advantages Moscow is receiving.

There may be a simpler explanation for the timing, and it has more to do with Putin than with Trump.

Look at the calendar. Putin proposed a three-way summit with Trump and China’s Xi Jinping during an October 9 phone call, the same call that produced the diesel deal. The Kremlin has suggested holding it on the sidelines of the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation summit in Shenzhen, November 18 and 19. Ukraine has no place in the proposed three-leader format. Trump says he’d attend, though “not so much for Ukraine.” Ukraine’s foreign minister, Andrii Sybiha, warned that inviting Putin would only feed his appetite for self-aggrandizement.

Both the proposed summit and the Kremlin’s suggested timetable for renewed talks fall after the midterms. In the meantime, Moscow has secured a diesel deal, a sanctions waiver and the publicity surrounding Hubbard’s release, complete with Witkoff’s praise of Putin. Ukraine, meanwhile, endured days of impaired military satellite service before Trump’s call to Musk brought a partial restoration. Trump also suggested somebody else should negotiate on Ukraine’s behalf.

Igor Novikov, the former Zelensky adviser, put it plainly: Russia understands the weakness of Trump’s position and is abusing it, especially before the midterms. The danger, he said, isn’t that Russia is strong. It’s that America is weak at the moment.

For now, the tangible benefits have flowed to Moscow, while a commitment to negotiate remains conditional. Whether Putin deliberately timed this sequence around the American election is unknown. But the calendar raises a question Washington has yet to answer: What additional concessions might Russia seek while the White House is determined to demonstrate progress?

All of this is being negotiated by a president whose health and judgment have become subjects of growing scrutiny.

After an October 16 rally in Georgia, video showed Trump walking past the open door of his waiting armored limousine into an open area until Secret Service agents steered him back. On Tuesday in the Oval Office, he repeatedly cut off Andrew Feinberg of The Independent, asked whether he was “a sick person,” and warned him he’d “better be careful.” The White House’s official Rapid Response account then attacked Feinberg with an antiquated slur historically used against people with Down syndrome, during Down Syndrome Awareness Month. Nobody would say who posted it.

A week earlier in Bullhead City, Arizona, Trump told a laughing crowd that if a supporter suffered a heart attack at his rally, his traveling doctors would leave the man alone. “Sir, he’s collateral damage,” he imagined them saying. Dr. Jonathan Reiner, Dick Cheney’s longtime cardiologist, called the claim completely untrue and an insult to the White House Medical Unit, noting that past presidents had called for help when spectators collapsed.

Medical professionals have publicly raised concerns about Trump’s cognitive health, including 36 clinicians whose statement was entered into the Congressional Record in April. Short videos and public appearances cannot establish a diagnosis, and the signers acknowledged they had never examined him. The White House says his most recent physical, in May, found a normal neurological exam.

But there is a separate question that requires no medical diagnosis: who is actually making the decisions. Someone authorized the restrictions on Ukraine’s satellite service. Someone decides whether congressionally approved sanctions take effect. Yet the president, his cabinet and a private billionaire keep offering different explanations for decisions with consequences for an entire country.

The larger concern is whether Americans have enough reliable information about his health, who shapes the decisions made in his name, and whether those exercising power can be held accountable. Those questions become considerably more urgent when the decisions involve sanctions, military intelligence and the defenses protecting Ukrainian cities.

In Washington, officials can dispute who authorized a decision, accuse the press of dishonesty, or decline to answer altogether. In Ukraine, the people living with the consequences don’t have the luxury of waiting for Washington to sort out who was responsible.