Restraint Over Resolve: How Fear shaped US policy towards Ukraine

Reflections on Woodward's War and the realities of Western decision-making during Ukraine’s fight against Russian aggression.

On Monday, February 28, 2022—the fifth day of the full-scale invasion—I sat in a meeting with about twenty U.S. Senators, chaired by Senator Portman. The room felt suffocating, not just from the gravity of the moment but from what was being suggested:

“You understand the situation. You need to evacuate your government—the President, the Parliament. Kyiv won’t hold. Our intel said you had 72 hours, so the maximum now is a week.”

I stood up, and when everyone saw my nine-month-pregnant belly, they were visibly shocked. I said firmly:

“Dear Senators, I am not a diplomat. I am a Member of the Ukrainian Parliament. I represent Ukrainians, and I will tell you what they think. First, my apologies but you don’t understand. Ukrainians will not surrender. Second, no one is leaving—not the President, not the government, not the Parliament. And third, let’s be honest—the sanctions you’ve announced fail to make any meaningful difference. The day President Biden announced the sanctions you did not tell anyone that you actually had made exemptions through the Treasury at night for oil, gas, diamonds and a lot of other things. We have to tell the truth not only to Ukrainians but also Americans, who truly believe their country is doing everything it can. We are grateful for the bulletproof vests and helmets, but they only let us die slower. We need a no fly zone and weapons—real weapons—to fight.”

But a lot of the people in the room were more focused on finding a “designated survivor.” They could not believe or imagine that Ukraine actually can kick Russians out. We believed and fought for our motherland. We didn’t evacuate. Ukraine stayed. And because we stayed, we gave ourselves a chance—a chance to fight, to persevere, to protect our sovereignty.

But as the war progressed, it became clear that hesitation from our allies was a persistent and deeply frustrating obstacle. And it was not accidental. That was a policy formed in the highest cabinets of the US. Promises of solidarity were often overshadowed by fears of escalation and calculated restraint. Bob Woodward’s War brought me back to those moments, so I am here to share my frustrations, reflections, and how it all looked from where we stood.

Backchannel conversations with Russians

In September-October 2022, as Ukraine was succeeding in its first counteroffensive, taking back cities and territories, the Biden administration was preoccupied with anxieties over Russia’s potential use of tactical nuclear weapons. Despite his previous declarations that his response will be defined by “nothing about Ukraine, without Ukraine,” President Biden mobilized backchannel talks with Russians without ever informing Ukraine. Woodward writes:

“We need to open up a channel,” Biden said, “not on negotiating Ukraine but on the United States and Russia avoiding a cataclysm.” The president then communicated with Putin directly.

And so proceeded his administration. Bill Burns, the CIA Director, met with Sergei Naryshkin, head of Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service in Ankara, Turkey. At the same time, Mark Milley, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, spoke with General Valery Gerasimov, Chief of the General Staff of the Russian Armed Forces:

“No one is doing any kind of regime change. And my analysis of the battlefield is I don’t think you’re going to be suffering a catastrophic loss like losing your entire army so…”

At this time Ukraine was losing hundreds of people every day because the shipment of weapons from the US was stopped. Everything was done as promised—for Russia not to have a “catastrophic loss.”

Meanwhile, Lloyd Austin, U.S. Secretary of Defense, spoke with Sergei Shoigu, Russia’s Minister of Defense:

“There are certain restrictions we’ve put on how they can use the stuff we’ve given them and we have not directly intervened in the conflict against your forces. If you did this, all of those constraints, all of those restraints we have imposed on ourselves would be reconsidered.”

This admission of “restraints” is staggering. All this took place as the world had already witnessed the horrors of Bucha and Irpin—innocent civilians tortured and murdered. Mass graves in Izium stood as evidence of Russia’s genocidal intent. Meanwhile, hundreds of drones and over a thousand missiles targeted civilian infrastructure, killing children and leaving millions without power or heat. Yet, instead of swift, resolute action to empower Ukraine, we get the U.S. Secretary of Defense, in a backchannel conversation with his Russian counterpart, explaining the constraints they’ve kept “thus far.”

Moreover, all of this was happening as Ukraine conducted its first counter-offensive. We were liberating cities, and it seemed like we might have a real chance to win. As the chair of the Parliamentary Commission on Arms Control, I was shocked to see that weapons supplies were stopped for a few months at the very moment we needed them most. It is only now, as we read Woodward’s book, that we know the real reason: while the rhetoric of the Biden administration was that of standing with Ukraine, their policy was focused on not provoking Russia rather than decisively strengthening Ukraine.

So what was the U.S. strategy? Woodward’s book answers in Biden’s own words:

“If we do fully succeed in ejecting Russia from Ukraine, we face a very strong likelihood of nuclear use... Too much success is nukes, too little success is a kind of uncertain indefinite outcome.”

And so this approach was directly reflected in U.S. assistance to Ukraine—because the goal was not to help Ukraine win but to avoid escalating tensions with Russia. Each weapon that Ukraine urgently requested to sustain the counter-offensive and liberate occupied territories was met with constant delays, debates, and excuses.

The tanks saga, as Woodward writes about it, was a maddening game of political pingpong. The U.S. refused to send Abrams tanks, instead pressuring Germany to provide their Leopard tanks. Meanwhile, Germany insisted they wouldn’t act unless the U.S. committed Abrams tanks first. This back-and-forth dragged for months, leaving Ukrainian soldiers to fight and die without the critical equipment they needed.

Even when the U.S. finally agreed, so that Germany could send Leopard tanks, the outcome was a mere 33 Abrams tanks—33 out of the 4,650 in the U.S. arsenal. A number so symbolic and so inadequate that it was almost insulting, and delivered far too late to shift the balance​.

This was not the only time Ukraine was forced to pay for Western leaders’ deliberations with the lives of our people. From the very first day of the invasion, Russia indiscriminately deployed cluster munitions, killing and maiming countless civilians, including children.

One of those kids is 9-year-old Sofiyka, who was playing on the streets of Mykolaiv when a fragment from a Russian cluster munition pierced her skull, leaving her fighting for survival.

Sofiyka’s family didn’t know if she would make it, and though she miraculously pulled through, her childhood has been replaced with a grueling journey of recovery. The little girl who once ran and laughed with her friends now has to learn how to walk and talk all over again.Yet, somehow, this outcome is still a miracle—the majority of kids targeted by cluster munitions don’t survive, their lives cut short by Russia’s acts of terror.

But when Ukraine sought cluster munitions to defend itself, hesitation dominated Western discussions. Pentagon officials, more focused on optics than necessity, urged restraint:

“Fire less, try to be more precise, don’t run out, you have to maneuver.”

This guidance came as Russian forces rained down destruction with no such constraints. Ukraine eventually received cluster munitions, but only when the need for artillery had become so dire that Ukrainian forces did not have anything to shoot back with. This delay came at a devastating cost, as Russia continued to use these banned weapons with impunity. The fact that it required such extensive convincing to provide Ukraine with the means to defend itself against the very same weapons Russia was using speaks to a pattern that prioritized avoiding escalation over Ukrainian lives.

It was even worse with F-16s. The necessity of these jets was undeniable: NATO's combat doctrines are predicated on achieving air superiority, ensuring that ground operations can proceed without relentless aerial bombardment. Without adequate air defenses, Ukraine endured constant strikes from Russian aircraft and missiles, making effective resistance nearly impossible. Yet, the Biden administration withheld approval for over a year, immobilized by fears of escalation. As Woodward writes,

“It was not unusual for Biden to hedge and postpone a hard decision.”

But the administration’s approach didn’t just stall U.S. commitments—it actively blocked Europe from stepping in. European allies ready to provide F-16s themselves were pressured into silence, ensuring no public commitments would be made. This deliberate obstruction left Ukraine to face relentless Russian airstrikes with no ability to adequately defend its skies.

During this time, Congress worked tirelessly to push the administration into action. I personally advocated alongside the Parliamentary Commission, meeting with lawmakers and attending hearings to demand F-16s for Ukraine. In conversations with Pentagon officials, I was repeatedly told, “You don’t need them; we know better.” But this wasn’t about strategy—it was part of a negotiated agreement with the Russians to avoid escalation. Members of Congress, Republican and Democrat, continuously pressed Secretary Austin to act, emphasizing the urgency of providing jets

.

Even when Europe forced the White House to act, another roadblock was quickly introduced: delaying the training and not training enough pilots to make the F-16s operational in time to make a difference.

Major Andrii "Juice" Pilshchykov, a distinguished Ukrainian fighter pilot, lost his life waiting for decisions about F-16s to materialize. Juice was an ideal candidate—an accomplished pilot who had flown MiG-29s and had been trained in California as part of the partnership between the California National Guard and the Ukrainian Air Force, which has been in place since 1993. Juice was a vocal advocate for Ukraine’s need for modern air capabilities, traveling to Washington and elsewhere to make the case for the jets that could have turned the tide in the war. Tragically, his dream of defending Ukraine’s skies using F-16s never came true, with only a couple of weeks left until the beginning of his training.

This constant cycle of delay, excuses, and obstruction didn’t just slow Ukraine’s ability to defend itself—it actively cost lives. At every step, the administration’s decisions prioritized avoiding escalation with Russia over giving Ukraine the tools we needed to protect our people and our sovereignty.

Returning to the backchannel negotiations, Woodward reveals the reality behind the so-called red-lines:

“Biden had said privately that if Putin used a tactical nuclear weapon on the battlefield in Ukraine, the U.S. would not respond with nuclear weapons."

In other words, it was acceptable to the U.S. if Ukraine bore the horror of a nuclear strike with no reciprocal response. And here, it is impossible not to recall the Budapest Memorandum. Ukraine surrendered the world’s third-largest nuclear stockpile in 1994 in exchange for “assurances” of its sovereignty and territorial integrity. Those assurances, signed by the United States, the United Kingdom, and Russia, have proven to be hollow—just empty promises that evaporated the moment they were tested.

We repeatedly called on the U.S. to designate Russia as a state sponsor of terrorism. This designation is far more than symbolic—it carries significant consequences, including comprehensive sanctions that would further isolate Russia economically and politically. It is an essential step to hold Russia accountable for its deliberate attacks on civilians, its campaign of terror against Ukrainian towns and cities. We even had promises from the former Speaker of the House, under Democratic leadership, to pursue this designation if the State Department failed to act.

But now, we understand why it never happened. The U.S. didn’t want to label Russia a state sponsor of terrorism because that designation would have contradicted their actions. After all, Americans don’t negotiate with terrorists. Yet, through backchannel discussions, they did exactly that with Russia. They held secret talks, not to strengthen Ukraine’s defense, but to avoid escalation with Moscow—negotiating with a regime actively waging a campaign of terror.

It’s now painfully clear that the Biden administration approach was not driven by the qualities it was so often advertised by: freedom, justice, and unwavering support for Ukraine. Instead, it was guided by fear of escalation, a desire to maintain appearances, and an unwillingness to fully confront the reality of Russian aggression.

As the Trump administration prepares to take office, there is an opportunity to learn from the mistakes of the past. The U.S. must pursue a policy toward Ukraine and Russia that is grounded in strength, not fear or appeasement. This means recognizing that half-measures and hesitant support only embolden aggressors and prolong suffering. It means standing unequivocally with Ukraine—not just in words, but in decisive actions that reflect a commitment to justice and sovereignty.

Appeasing Russia or tiptoeing around escalation has proven disastrous. Policies shaped by fear send the wrong message to both allies and adversaries alike. Hopefully, the new administration will abandon this approach and adopt one driven by clarity and strength—a policy that upholds the values that American people believe in and ensures that Ukraine has the tools it needs to win this fight and secure a just and lasting peace.