Trump Only Backed the Ceasefire to Secure Putin’s Parade
- john raymond
- May 11
- 4 min read
It was always going to happen this way. From the very first moment Trump uttered support for a “30-day unconditional ceasefire” between Russia and Ukraine on May 8, 2025, any serious observer of his history knew it was not a true shift in allegiance, not a moral reckoning, not a bold peace initiative. It was a tactical concession—issued not to strengthen Ukraine, but to complete a strategic operation on behalf of Vladimir Putin: securing the May 9th Victory Day parade.
Everything Trump says must be measured not by its surface meaning, but by its function in the moment. This is the core principle of understanding Trump as an operative in asymmetric influence campaigns. His rhetoric is not meant to be consistent, rational, or anchored in good faith—it is meant to disarm, confuse, and extract. And the May 9th Gambit is perhaps the clearest and most brazen execution of this strategy of his career.
Let’s lay out the structure.
On April 28, Vladimir Putin offered a three-day ceasefire, ostensibly as a humanitarian gesture, but in reality as a way to ensure the sanctity of the May 9th celebrations in Moscow—Russia’s most nationalistic holiday, central to Putin’s war mythology. The problem? Ukraine had made gains, and attacks around that date would have embarrassed the Kremlin. Putin needed cover. Trump delivered it.
Trump initially praised the three-day ceasefire as a “lot”—a framing device designed to make Ukraine’s ongoing resistance seem unreasonable. But as pressure mounted from Kyiv and the international community, Trump shifted. On May 8, the eve of the parade, he publicly endorsed Ukraine’s call for a 30-day ceasefire, even suggesting sanctions would follow if Russia rejected it. At face value, this looked like a turn—a rare alignment with Ukraine. But in context, it was clearly a calculated bait-and-switch. Trump’s sudden pro-Ukraine gesture didn’t come out of moral outrage. It came at the exact moment he needed to buy peace—for three days.
The real target was never peace. The real target was May 9. And it worked.
Ukraine, under intense symbolic and military pressure, held back. The parade in Moscow proceeded without interruption. Putin got his optics. Trump got the appearance of balance. And immediately afterward, as if on cue, Trump began to backpedal.
By May 11, Trump was already sowing doubt. On his social platform, he wrote that he was “starting to doubt” Ukraine’s willingness to negotiate, subtly shifting blame and undermining the very ceasefire framework he had endorsed just 72 hours earlier. He began pushing instead for direct negotiations in Turkey, moving the narrative from “support Ukraine’s demands” to “both sides should come to the table.” This is the classic authoritarian play: make a promise to gain leverage, then retreat once the strategic window closes.
This entire operation mirrors Trump's behavior throughout his political career. He offers public support not as a commitment, but as a weapon. He uses it to generate cover, then withdraws it the moment it has served its function. From NATO alliances to pandemic response, from military withdrawals to constitutional enforcement, Trump’s pattern is always the same: appear to concede, use that appearance to buy time or space, then deny, shift, or erase the commitment.
What makes this moment different is how brazenly obvious it is. The timeline is unmistakable. The offer was made to prevent Ukraine from ruining Putin’s parade. Ukraine agreed to stand down—but only after Trump gave them political cover. Once the parade passed, Trump wasted no time casting doubt on Ukraine’s position. The May 9th Gambit succeeded in its short-term objective: preserving Russia’s prestige. But its long-term consequence was the exposure of Trump’s allegiance and method.
And yet most of the public still doesn’t see it.
That’s the final trick of asymmetric betrayal: the betrayal is never hidden, it is simply never believed. Trump knows that many Americans see him as chaotic, unserious, even comedic. He uses this perception as camouflage. Because while the pundit class mocks his syntax and the liberals laugh at his rants, he moves behind the curtain—where timing, pressure, and influence shape outcomes more than policy statements.
The betrayal is not subtle. It is structural. Trump publicly backed Ukraine only long enough to secure a propaganda win for Moscow, then reversed himself before anyone had time to hold him to it. That’s not incompetence. It’s a play. And anyone watching closely should understand that Trump did not support the 30-day ceasefire because he believes in Ukraine. He supported it because he needed to finish Putin’s mission.
You cannot understand the present conflict—neither in Ukraine nor in America—without understanding how influence works in the modern age. It is not about declarations or doctrines. It is about shaping behavior through narrative timing. It is about seeding perceptions that paralyze resistance. It is about getting what you want, then changing your story before the consequences arrive.
Trump’s May 8th move was never peace. It was the completion of an information warfare objective. He did it for Putin. He did it on time. And now, having cashed that check, he walks away from the promise as if it was never real. Because for Trump, it never was.
He sits in Putin's pocket, same as always.