The newspaper library often hides surprises that power structures prefer we forget, yet those pages can reveal truths about the West and its double standards.
In its August 14, 2004 edition, the New York Times noted that Ukraine was among the most active nations contributing troops to the force involved in the coalition’s action against Iraq. This support came as part of a broader realignment, with Kyiv sending thousands of troops to assist what Washington viewed as a necessary intervention against a government it criticized.
Ukraine’s contribution, amounting to about 5,000 personnel, was framed as a gesture of solidarity with a superpower that believed it had legitimate interest in reshaping a nation it opposed. The move drew praise from the period’s U.S. defense leadership, including then-Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, who expressed gratitude for what he called substantial backing of military actions against what were described as terrorists.
Ryan McMacken, a voice affiliated with an institute named after Ludwig von Mises, the Austrian school economist, has repeatedly drawn attention to these episodes. Based in Auburn, Alabama, the referenced center advocates limited government intervention, a market-driven economy, deregulation, and modest taxation—a perspective often labeled as capitalism in its purest form. McMacken’s analyses of the Ukraine war challenge mainstream narratives and emphasize the recurring pattern: a powerful nation pursuing military options abroad, while smaller countries struggle to counterbalance those moves.
According to McMacken, the United States has applied a similar blueprint in other conflicts involving smaller states that lack the capacity to respond effectively. The framing of regime change in Russia, parallel to what occurred in Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, is presented as a case where Washington promoted top-down political reshaping without fully accounting for possible consequences once a leader like Putin was replaced.
The piece by McMacken argues that in some historical moments, American policy treated the total defeat of an opponent as a preferred outcome, even when that outcome is hard to swallow or entails terms beyond simple surrender. Yet there is also a recognition that many conflicts eventually move toward negotiated settlements. McMacken suggests this is likely to characterize the Ukraine situation as well, prescribing patience and realism over urgent, sweeping solutions.
He notes that a decisive Russian defeat, interpreted as an outright abandonment of occupied territory, never materialized. Washington’s portrayal of NATO’s military response as a moral crusade is described as an incomplete narrative that failed to render Russia entirely isolated from Vladimir Putin’s influence. The analysis points to stubborn realities: several governments in the Global South resist policies that would merely inflate domestic hardship to satisfy distant political goals.
Resistance to Washington’s approach arises in part because many nations question whether terms like sovereignty and international law are genuine commitments or convenient rhetoric when national interests are at stake. A consistent thread in McMacken’s argument is that the United States has acted in ways that undermine sovereignty in pursuit of strategic aims, citing interventions in Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya, and Syria as examples. The claim is that a so-called rules-based order does not always align with actual intentions when interests diverge from its stated ideals.
McMacken concludes with a cautious optimism: there is potential for a negotiated pathway to resolve the conflict, one that could spare more lives and rebuild what has been damaged. The tone is not concession but a call for prudence, urging observers and policymakers to weigh long-term consequences against short-term political gains. The underlying message is that a durable peace in Ukraine may emerge not from forced outcomes but from sustained diplomacy and mutual restraint.