President Donald Trump’s peace push in Ukraine hit a major bump as his top military expert got pushed aside. General Keith Kellogg, a battle-tested soldier who knows war better than most, was cut out of key talks after Russia complained. The Kremlin didn’t like his tough stance backing Ukraine, so Trump swapped him for a real estate guy with no military chops. Critics say this weakens America’s hand, but the White House claims it’s all part of the plan.
Trump says Kellogg will now focus solely on dealing with Ukrainian leaders, calling him a “Highly Respected Military Expert.” Meanwhile, negotiators like Steve Witkoff—a billionaire property developer—are taking the lead. Witkoff recently met Putin for secret talks, but details are shady. Supporters argue Trump’s mix of businessmen and soldiers shows fresh thinking. Skeptics worry it’s like bringing a butter knife to a tank fight.
Putin claims he’s ready for peace but keeps making wild demands. He wants Ukraine to dump its weapons and boot Western help. That would leave Kyiv defenseless, ripe for another Russian grab. Trump’s team calls this a starting point, not the final deal. Still, the partial ceasefire he’s pushing pauses attacks on power grids—for now. Hawks warn this just lets Putin regroup while Ukraine’s lights stay off.
Kellogg’s removal stings because he’s no desk jockey. He fought in Vietnam, led troops in Iraq, and gets how wars end. His plan was simple: arm Ukraine enough to make Russia talk, but force both sides to the table. Now, with him gone, some fear Trump’s just chasing a quick win before the election. The general once compared withholding U.S. intel to “hitting a mule with a two-by-four” to get Kyiv’s attention. Turns out, the mule wasn’t the only one getting whacked.
The White House spin is this shuffle speeds up deals, not slows them down. They’re close to signing a pact on Ukraine’s rare earth minerals—metals vital for tech and weapons. Trump wants these resources as payback for aid, but deposits sit in Russian-held zones. Critics call it a shaky bargain, like trading a bike for a stolen car. Supporters say it’s smart business, putting America first while Europe dithers.
Ukraine’s soldiers aren’t celebrating. One wounded fighter told Kellogg peace might last a decade… then war again. They’ve bled for three years, trusting Washington’s promises. Now, with U.S. spies pausing intel sharing and negotiators switching daily, trust is thin. Zelenskyy’s grip is slipping too—Trump recently mocked him as a “dictator,” then backtracked. Kyiv’s stuck between Putin’s tanks and Washington’s chaos.
Trump’s fans say he’s the only one tough enough to face down Putin. Past presidents threw cash at Kyiv; Trump wants results. His “art of the deal” means shaking tables, even if allies squirm. The risk? If Putin outplays him, Ukraine falls, and China eyes Taiwan. But Trump bets his gut over generals’ maps. The gamble could win big—or blow up in everyone’s face.
The bottom line: wars end with deals, not just bullets. Trump’s betting his team can twist arms until Putin blinks. Kellogg’s demotion shows that loyalty matters more than experience in this high-stakes game. For Ukraine, the nightmare drags on—caught between a dictator who wants their land and a dealmaker who wants their mines. Peace might come, but freedom’s price keeps climbing.
