Part II — THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE UNENFORCEABLE: Points 2–21/26 & the Fantasy of Amnesty in the Putin-Trump “Peace Plan”  

The International Criminal Court Statute is explicit on certain challenges to accountability such as superior orders, head of state immunity, and statute of limitations, but is silent both as to any duty to prosecute and with regard to amnesties. Although the issue was raised during the Rome Conference at which the Statute was adopted, no clear consensus developed among the delegates as to how the question should be resolved. This too suggests that customary international law had not crystallized on this point, at least not in 1998. —

Leila Nadya Sadat, Exile, Amnesty and International Law, 81 NOTRE DAME L. REV. 955, 1022 (2006)

My initial reaction to Trump’s 28-point “peace plan,” created (or adopted, see Part I) by his inexperienced negotiation team, was not outrage or surprise but disbelief. I was genuinely astonished that four lawyers could produce (or claim ownership of) a document so legally incoherent, so fatally flawed, so flabbergasting, that it fails the laughing test. Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner are not just real estate magnates; they are lawyers in one of the most contract-heavy industries globally. Surely they understand the basics of their contractual arrangements: words matter, ambiguity is dangerous, contradictions are disastrous, and legal terms must be enforceable. When they step outside their expertise, they know to get advice from someone who isn’t. This isn’t advanced public international law; it’s basic ethics and professional responsibility.

The same indictment applies to Vice President J.D. Vance and his Yale Law confidant, Secretary of the Army Daniel P. Driscoll—an enthusiastic supporter of Vance’s anti-Ukraine, unapologetically narrow-minded, and uninformed isolationist worldview. For two men who fancy themselves as having serious gravitas, neither seems to have noticed — or more likely, noticed and didn’t care — that they were pressuring Ukraine to accept what amounts to an international contract binding parties who never negotiated, never consented, and could not legally be bound even if they had. The negligence is shocking. The cynicism is worse. But this assumes any of them were genuinely trying to create a lawful, lasting peace rather than pushing a private, ideologically convenient agenda.

Witkoff’s profound incompetence was evident when he showed up for his first meeting with Vladimir Putin without an interpreter. Embarrassing as that was (even if it was just a ceremonial greeting), it’s nothing compared to the farce of drafting, co-drafting, or endorsing a framework filled with contradictions, legal impossibilities, and provisions void from the start. The document reveals exactly what this “peace initiative” has always been: Trump’s envoys running an off-the-books foreign policy that is openly pro-Russian and shockingly inept.

Setting aside Article 2(4) of the U.N. Charter, which bans the threat or use of force to seize territory, and Article 52 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, which invalidates any agreement obtained through coercion—both directly involved in a plan that demands Ukraine to cede territory, including areas Russia does not occupy, under the threat of losing U.S. support if it does not accept the entire package within six days—what follows is a closer look at the flaws, contradictions, and structural issues embedded in the remaining provisions.

This so-called peace plan is partly a Russian wish list and partly American capitulation. It is also deeply flawed and profoundly amateurish. Point 26 — the broad amnesty clause — clearly indicates coerced compromise, the natural result of its underlying logic. But it’s not the only sign. The same pattern of capitulation runs through Points 2–21, with many provisions subtly (and sometimes blatantly) tilting the scales toward an outcome where Ukraine makes concessions while Russia retains its gains. It’s a coercive setup, a diplomatic farce—one that normalizes Ukrainian concessions while completely ignoring Russia’s actions.

Before addressing Point 26, here are some quick, rough observations on Points 2–21—not a comprehensive list of the document’s flaws, but a focused look at the provisions relevant for those not involved in drafting, endorsing, or selling this plan.

The Unenforceable Architecture of Points 2–21

Point 2 binds “Europe” to a non-aggression pact. Who, exactly, is “Europe”? The European Union? Every country on the continent, regardless of its political stance? The UK, which is no longer part of the EU? The European Economic Area? Microstates like Andorra, San Marino, Monaco, and the Vatican? The plan doesn’t specify—because the authors didn’t know. They never defined their parties because they didn’t understand the basic legal framework they were trying to establish. A contract that doesn’t identify its parties is invalid from the start, yet the authors treat “Europe” as if it were a single legal entity that could be bound arbitrarily. This kind of careless conceptualization not only shows ignorance but elevates negligence to an art form.

Point 3 binds NATO — an alliance that neither helped create this plan nor agreed to it — to oppose expansion. It’s impossible to overstate how legally indefensible this is: non-member states cannot unilaterally change the obligations of member states regarding a multilateral treaty organization from outside, especially through an informal political document written as if it were sketched over drinks on a cocktail napkin by a couple of Americans with a few others insisting on its acceptance.

Point 4 goes even further by anointing the U.S. as a “mediator” between Russia and NATO to resolve “all security issues.” This is fundamentally impossible. The U.S. is part of NATO. It’s not just a member; it’s the alliance’s leading military and political force. A party cannot simultaneously claim to be a neutral arbitrator and a key stakeholder. The Trump quartet either didn’t see this contradiction — which reveals their incompetence — or, more likely, they deliberately included it to manipulate the process—to create a false appearance of legitimacy for a predetermined, skewed outcome.

Point 7 instructs NATO to amend its founding treaty to guarantee Ukraine will never be admitted. This alone would require unanimous consent from all NATO members—something the authors either overlooked or never understood.

Point 8 prohibits NATO from deploying troops in Ukraine, as if the alliance could be externally bound by operational constraints it did not negotiate, does not accept, and has no incentive to follow. The plan repeatedly treats NATO as a subordinate administrative agency rather than a sovereign collective of 32 states.

Point 9 reaches new heights of incoherence by requiring Poland to host unspecified “European fighter jets,” without clarifying who “Europe” refers to (again), who owns the jets, under what authority Poland is purportedly bound, or how this arrangement aligns with the fundamental principles of sovereignty. Trump cannot simply impose obligations on a sovereign state. Yet that is precisely what the Witkoff negotiating team pressured Ukraine to accept – as if Ukraine and Russia have the right to dictate to Poland peace and security terms for ending the Russo-Ukraine war.

Point 14 is not just incoherent; it is a farcical grift. “Europe” is asked to unfreeze its Russian assets, contribute another $100 billion to reconstruction, and accept that $100 billion in frozen Russian assets will be transferred into a U.S.-led investment fund that allocates half the profits to the U. S. This is a geopolitical Ponzi scheme—a real estate syndicate disguised as statecraft, where the architects treat sovereign nations like limited partners in a distressed-asset acquisition.

Point 21 reveals the profound ignorance and incompetence of Witkoff, Kushner, Vance, and Driscoll. It states that Crimea, Luhansk, and Donetsk should be “recognized as de facto Russian, including by the United States.” But recognition is inherently a de jure act; recognizing a de facto situation is not a category of international law. This is not hair-splitting; it’s a fundamental principle of state recognition doctrine. One would expect four lawyers  — three with Ivy League backgrounds — to understand this. This is not just an embarrassing mistake; it’s another sign of total ignorance, a damning indictment of amateurs pretending to be ready-for-primetime statesmen of grand-strategic statecraft.

Taken together, these provisions reveal a clear, unmistakable pattern. Trump’s envoys drafted the document as if representing Russia—not the U. S., its allies, or the shared legal order they claim to protect. They do not understand treaty law, the limits of state consent, or even the difference between political goals and legally binding obligations. All of this acts as a prelude. The contradictions, vagueness, and unenforceable obligations imposed on third parties naturally lead to Point 26—the plan’s broad amnesty clause—which is not only legally questionable but also structurally unenforceable. The entire framework leans toward that outcome: coerced concession wrapped in the language of peace.

Point 26: The Fantasy of a Universal Blanket Amnesty

Point 26 proposes that “all parties involved in this conflict will receive full amnesty for their actions during the war and agree not to make claims or consider complaints in the future.” In one sentence, the plan attempts to wipe clean every atrocity, every unlawful order, every act of aggression, and every crime committed by political and military actors on both sides. It is not a peace measure; it is a mechanism of erasure. A universal, retroactive, and prospective amnesty that dissolves accountability not only for the past but for anything that might occur after its signing.

Reading Point 26 forced me back to a post I wrote on amnesties in 2016, in which I noted:

The vexing issue — one that has both legal and political implications — is the extent to which amnesties are valid and binding both domestically and internationally: counterbalancing accountability with reconciliation, peace, and stability. Legality co-existing with realpolitik.

Eight years later, the issue remains vexing. The prohibition on amnesties for jus cogens crimes has not yet crystallized into a universally accepted norm of customary international law. Technically, the legal terrain has not dramatically shifted. But politically, institutionally, and normatively, everything has. The post-Bucha landscape has hardened global expectations: blanket impunity is no longer viewed as a pragmatic compromise, but as an abdication of principle. States, international institutions, and even previously cautious jurists now treat unconditional amnesties with deep suspicion, bordering on rejection.

Against this backdrop, Point 26 stands out not for its ambition but for its anachronism. It is a universal amnesty stripped of every element that might ground it in legality or legitimacy. No truth-telling. No demobilization. No vetting. No timeline. No exclusions. No transitional justice framework. No mechanism for victims’ participation. No obligations for reparations, reform, or even acknowledgment. It does not balance accountability with peace; it dispenses with accountability altogether. It even purports to prohibit “complaints”—a term so sweeping it could conceivably bar victims from civil claims, international petitions, or even public expression.

The question, then, is not whether such an amnesty is morally objectionable; that much is obvious. The real question is whether Point 26 is legally valid and enforceable under contemporary international law. The answer, in short, is: barely, if at all. And even that overstates its prospects.

Before turning to why Point 26 collapses under doctrinal, institutional, political, and structural analysis, it is worth setting out some general principles on amnesties themselves—though anyone wanting a deeper dive should revisit the more detailed analysis in my earlier post.

Amnesty in International Law: A Baseline

Christian Wolff, the 18th-century German philosopher–jurist, offers what remains one of the clearest classical formulations of amnesty:

Amnesty is defined as complete and lasting forgetfulness of wrongs and offences previously committed. … consigned to perpetual oblivion and everlasting silence, no one can be accused or punished for acts before committed.

Wolff was not advocating collective historical amnesia, nor was he suggesting that human beings should simply forget events that demand moral reckoning. His point is more technical—and more enduring. Amnesty is a legal fiction: a deliberate act of forgetting for the sake of moving forward, not a moral judgment that the underlying conduct was trivial or undeserving of accountability. From antiquity to the present, that fiction has carried a specific purpose: enabling societies to transition out of conflict without requiring every atrocity to be litigated before peace can be built. In that sense, Wolff’s definition remains an accurate description of how amnesties function in contemporary international law.

Historically, amnesty operated in lieu of prosecution. Its etymology—ἀμνηστία, “amnestia,” meaning “forgetfulness”—captures its ancient origins: a societal reset button intended to stop cycles of retribution. No trial, no conviction, no punishment. Guilt, even if widely understood, is neither adjudicated nor expunged; it is simply placed beyond the reach of the courts for reasons grounded in political necessity.

Modern practice retains that function but has layered it with far more complexity. Contemporary amnesties typically emerge in two contexts: civil wars and transitions from authoritarian rule. Yet even in those settings, the international appetite for broad or unconditional amnesty has narrowed. When the 1999 Lome Peace Agreement sought to end Sierra Leone’s civil war, the UN Secretary-General famously advised in para. 54 of his report to the Security Council to reject any amnesty for genocide, war crimes, or crimes against humanity—even while acknowledging that amnesty can be “very useful in promoting peace,” as reflected in Article 6(5) of Additional Protocol II to the Geneva Conventions:

[a]t the end of hostilities, the authorities in power shall endeavour to grant the broadest possible amnesty to persons who have participated in the armed conflict, or those deprived of their liberty for reasons related to the armed conflict, whether they are interned or detained.

So, may a State grant amnesty? Absolutely. Under international law, the validity of a domestic amnesty within the granting State’s own legal system is fundamentally a matter of sovereignty. It is squarely within a State’s purview to decide whether to prosecute, pardon, or politically negotiate its way out of violence.

But what about amnesties for jus cogens crimes—those universally prohibited norms, like torture or genocide, identified in Article 53 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties?

This is where doctrine becomes uncomfortable. States may not commit such crimes, but it does not automatically follow that they are obligated to punish them. Customary international law has not yet crystallized into a firm rule requiring States to prosecute every perpetrator of genocide, war crimes, or crimes against humanity. There is a widely accepted duty to prosecute or extradite (aut dedere aut judicare), but that duty tolerates exceptions—particularly when peace, stability, or political transition is at stake. Even if human rights advocates find this normatively unsatisfying, the law still grants States discretion in fashioning remedies for victims and pathways out of conflict.

As Professor John Dugard puts it:

[S]uccessor regimes are now told by the high priests of public opinion – NGOs and scholars – not only that they ought to prosecute but that they are obliged under international law to prosecute. … The implication of this argument is that international law prohibits amnesty. … State practice hardly supports such a rule as modern history is replete with examples of cases in which successor regimes have granted amnesty to officials of the previous regime guilty of torture and crimes against humanity, rather than prosecute them. 

In plain terms: national jurisdictions can and do grant amnesties for jus cogens crimes, and international law has not yet rendered such amnesties per se invalid. The UN cannot compel national courts to void them without violating State sovereignty under Article 2(7) of the UN Charter. Practice—from South Africa to Latin America to West Africa—demonstrates that the international community has repeatedly accepted (even endorsed) amnesties that reach conduct amounting to jus cogens violations.

The bottom line is straightforward: amnesties remain legally permissible under certain conditions, even for the gravest crimes, because international law has not fully closed the door on them. It is a doctrine built on tension—between justice and peace, accountability and stability, principle and realpolitik.

And this is precisely why Point 26’s sweeping, unconditional, unstructured amnesty is not merely controversial. It is anachronistic, detached from how amnesty is understood today, and fundamentally misaligned with the legal and political realities it purports to govern.

Contemporary Challenges to Point 26

With the classical framework of amnesties in mind, the question becomes whether Point 26 — a universal, retroactive, prospective, and unconditional amnesty — could survive scrutiny today. The short answer: almost certainly not. While the prohibition on amnesties for jus cogens crimes still has not crystallized into a hard rule of customary international law, the world has changed since 2016 in ways that render a clause like Point 26 not merely controversial but fundamentally untenable. It is out of step with contemporary state practice, incompatible with the ICC’s jurisdictional architecture, discordant with human rights obligations, politically radioactive, and structurally defective. Point 26 is a relic pretending to be a solution.

1. 1. State Practice Is Moving Away from Blanket Amnesties

Although international law still allows tailored or conditional amnesties in specific transitional cases, the space for broad, unconditional amnesties has significantly shrunk. International tribunals and regional human rights organizations — though not universally — have set clearer boundaries, showing strong skepticism toward blanket amnesties, especially those intended to protect senior political and military leaders.

The Inter-American Court of Human Rights has long invalidated broad amnesties, deeming them incompatible with States’ obligations to investigate and provide redress for serious violations. Similarly, the African Commission and African Court have restricted the scope for blanket amnesties, increasingly emphasizing mechanisms that ensure truth-telling and protect victims’ rights. Even in Europe, where the European Court of Human Rights has never outright declared a ban, its rulings on the duty to investigate, access to justice, and procedural rights make complete legal erasure nearly impossible. A provision like Point 26—which bans not only prosecution but also the filing or consideration of complaints—would be quickly struck down in most regional human rights systems.

1. 2. The ICC Dimension Has Changed Everything

Ukraine’s relationship with the International Criminal Court has evolved over time. It is now a State Party under the Rome Statute. What was once a limited, temporary acceptance of jurisdiction has become a fully functioning investigative and prosecutorial process. The ICC Prosecutor is conducting active investigations, has opened cases, and has issued arrest warrants targeting senior Russian political and military leaders. Complementarity — once a theoretical idea in Ukraine — is now fully operational. Under Article 53 of the Rome Statute, the Prosecutor cannot refuse to act solely because a domestic amnesty exists; the ICC is not bound by national political deals, peace agreements, or legislative immunities. A domestic amnesty cannot cancel arrest warrants, stop ongoing investigations, dismiss cases, or remove the ICC’s jurisdiction. Ukraine has little leverage to grant broad amnesties—especially for crimes within the ICC’s jurisdiction. This alone makes Point 26 ineffective as a legal tool and unrealistic as a diplomatic strategy.

1. 3. The Duty to Investigate Has Hardened

The requirement for States to investigate allegations of serious violations has evolved from being tentative and inconsistent to a firm expectation. What was once only a goal is now, if not an absolute rule, at least a nearly universal assumption: when war crimes, crimes against humanity, or large-scale abuses are suspected, some form of good-faith investigation is essential. Point 26 contradicts this principle at its core. It blocks all claims and complaints—past, present, and future. It silences victims, denies the right to seek redress, and forbids even initiating investigative procedures. This conflicts with the jurisprudence of the Inter-American system, the African human rights system, the European Court, and emerging global norms regarding victims’ rights.

1. 4. The Post-2022 Political and Legal Climate Rejects Impunity

The atrocities committed since the 2022 invasion — Bucha, Mariupol, forced deportations, filtration camps, torture, sexual violence, deliberate attacks on civilian infrastructure, abductions of children — have fundamentally shifted global perceptions of Russian accountability. What might have been politically negotiable in the 1990s or early 2000s is now unthinkable. Offering a blanket amnesty to those responsible for aggression, war crimes, crimes against humanity, and systematic abuses would trigger political backlash in nearly every allied country. It would weaken sanctions, hinder ongoing accountability efforts, and jeopardize the stability of existing coalitions supporting Ukraine. The era of permissive amnesties for atrocities is over; Point 26 cannot wish this reality away.

1. 5. The Structural Defects of Point 26 Are Severe

Point 26 lacks any of the shared features of effective transitional amnesties that have helped promote peace instead of deepening impunity.

• • • conditional, not automatic;
    • reciprocal, not one-sided (see closing remark).
    • tied to truth commissions, confessions, or disclosure;
    • linked to demobilization or disarmament (one-sided);.
    • sequenced alongside reparations, institutional reforms, or guarantees of non-recurrence (Russian guarantees are worthless considering Putin’s aim in subjugating  Ukraine)

1. 6. Domestic Amnesties Cannot Bind State Courts Exercising Universal Jurisdiction

Even if Point 26 could be used domestically, it would still fall short internationally. Just as national amnesties do not bind the ICC, they also do not prevent States from exercising universal jurisdiction. Point 26 cannot stop existing or future investigations and prosecutions related to the Russo-Ukraine war that are carried out in countries with a strong tradition of prosecuting atrocity crimes under universal jurisdiction. Simply put, neither Russia, Ukraine, the US, nor even the EU or NATO can wish away, through a blanket amnesty provision in a peace treaty, a state’s sovereign right to exercise universal jurisdiction if it chooses to do so.

1. 7. The Special Tribunal for Aggression Conflicts Directly with Point 26

The ongoing effort to create a Special Tribunal for the Crime of Aggression Against Ukraine—backed by Ukraine and multiple other countries—is specifically aimed at investigating and prosecuting atrocity crimes, including the crime of aggression during the Russo-Ukraine war. Its primary purpose — preventing political deals that allow impunity for serious violations — goes against the intent and principles of Point 26. Even if Ukraine were to withdraw its support (which is very unlikely), it’s doubtful that a peace plan could, with just a signature, override the authority of the Special Tribunal once it is fully operational.

The Bigger Truth: Point 26 Reveals the Entire Plan

Point 26 is not a peace measure; it is a capitulation clause masquerading as diplomacy. It mandates a universal, retroactive, prospective, and unconditional amnesty for all political and military actors involved in the conflict. No carve-outs, no sequencing, no transitional justice mechanisms—just a blunt instrument of erasure. It turns justice into an obstacle rather than a principle, and fails under every conceivable lens: doctrinally, state practice has narrowed and the duty to investigate has strengthened; institutionally, ICC jurisdiction cannot be waived or circumvented; politically, in a post-Bucha world, absolute impunity is unthinkable; structurally, there are no conditions, no truth-telling, no accountability.

In its starkest terms, Point 26 crystallizes the plan’s perverse logic: Ukraine must absorb the consequences of Russian aggression while Russia escapes all accountability. It codifies territorial conquest, empty security “guarantees,” forced cultural erasure, and coerces Ukraine into negotiating its own diminishment. It is impunity dressed as policy, a legal fig leaf for aggression, and a blueprint for the systematic erasure of accountability—an invitation to the world to accept that crimes can be committed without consequence, so long as the victim is compelled to endorse its own subjugation.

Amnesties, when legitimately applied, require careful calibration: political legitimacy, procedural safeguards, and legal defensibility. Point 26 possesses none of these. Instead, it enshrines impunity as policy, transforms a tool meant to secure peace into a mechanism for conquest, and signals to the world that the aggressor acts without consequence while the victim is coerced into submission. It is not a roadmap to peace—it is a blueprint for the systematic erosion of justice.

And if further proof were needed of why Point 26 is fatally flawed, collapsing under even minimal scrutiny, consider today’s admonition from Michael McGrath, the EU Commissioner for Democracy, Justice, the Rule of Law, and Consumer Protections. Speaking directly to the notion of absolution-by-treaty, he warned: “I don’t think history will judge kindly any effort to wipe the slate clean for Russian crimes in Ukraine… They must be held accountable for those crimes.” The point is unmistakable. So let me end with what should have been obvious from the start: Point 26 is a lie told with a straight face. Russia will not investigate its own officers, its own units, or its own leadership. It never has, and it never will. Witkoff, Kushner, Vance, Driscoll, and Trump know this perfectly well. Yet they wrote the clause anyway and then tried to ram it down the Ukrainians’ throats in a contemptuous attempt to launder impunity through the vocabulary of conflict resolution—disguising impunity as peace. Their insistence on offering Moscow a ceremonial cleansing—one it neither seeks nor believes it needs—isn’t merely naïve. It is an act of moral abdication.

Postscript

As I was putting the finishing touches on this post, news broke that Witkoff will be traveling to Moscow this week to present Putin with the latest version of a peace framework. It is almost certain to be rejected—without counteroffer, without modification, without even the courtesy of feigned interest. That is par for the course. Putin’s position remains maximalist and zero-sum: not a negotiation but a program of erasure—of Ukraine as a sovereign nation and of Ukrainians as authors of their own destiny, rather than subjects whose fate is dictated from the Kremlin.

This time, Witkoff is less a freelance envoy than an errand boy. He may still indulge in offering Putin advice on how to manipulate Trump—the way he allegedly encouraged Putin to call Trump before Zelensky arrived in Washington to discuss the Tomahawk missiles Trump claimed he would provide. But his wings appear clipped, or at least noticeably constrained.

After Trump’s full-court press to force Zelensky into accepting the 28-point plan—through Witkoff, Kushner, Vance, and Driscoll—Ukraine’s European allies stepped in. Recognizing that their own security is inseparable from Ukraine’s, they intervened to help craft a more balanced and sustainable framework. This prompted further consultations with U.S. officials, culminating in meetings this past weekend in Miami.

Critically, the U.S. delegation was not led by Trump’s revolving cast of improvised envoys but by Secretary of State Marco Rubio—a former senator with deep experience in foreign affairs, security, and intelligence. I disagree with him on many issues, but credit where it is due: Rubio understands both the short game and the long game. He grasps what is at stake for Ukraine, for Europe, for NATO, and for the United States. He understands process—collaboration, sequencing, nuance, precision, and above all, patience.

Which brings me to the point of this postscript. At the close of the Miami session, Rubio briefed the press in a tone utterly unlike the take-it-or-leave-it posture of the original 28-point plan. He called the negotiations “delicate and complex, with many moving parts”—a diplomatic but unmistakable critique of Witkoff’s prior recklessness.

It was also a stark contrast to the bluster of Driscoll—Vance’s attack dog and would-be Secretary of Defense—who had lectured Ukrainian negotiators that “the deal does not get any better from here; it gets worse.” (Insiders say current Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth may soon be pushed out—a coup for Vance, who sees Rubio as a threat to his presidential ambitions. Installing a pliant Driscoll at the Pentagon would be Vance’s way of hemming Rubio in and limiting his ability to steer Trump toward a more internationalist posture.) Driscoll’s absence from the Miami talks meant Vance’s shadow was absent too.

It is far too soon to know how this saga ends. Ukraine will almost certainly have to swallow a bitter pill—some territorial concession, or preferably a freeze of the current lines without de jure recognition of Russia’s claims. But for now, Trump appears, at least temporarily, to have handed the negotiating reins to Rubio, giving the process a veneer of seriousness and a chance at coherence.

Of course, Trump is capricious, petulant, transactional, and easily flattered. This arrangement could collapse tomorrow. But at this moment, the outlook is marginally more promising than it has been in months. And the sooner Trump recognizes that Putin is not a partner but an adversary—a deeply untrustworthy one who shares none of the values that bind the United States to Europe, Ukraine, and its other allies—the sooner he might stop acting as Putin’s handmaiden and finally commit to Ukraine.

That would be a genuine game-changer.

About Author

Michael G. Karnavas

Michael G. Karnavas is an American trained lawyer. He is licensed in Alaska and Massachusetts and is qualified to appear before the various International tribunals, including the International Criminal Court (ICC). Residing and practicing primarily in The Hague, he is recognized as an expert in international criminal defence, including pre-trial, trial, and appellate advocacy.

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Author: Michael G. Karnavas

Michael G. Karnavas is an American trained lawyer. He is licensed in Alaska and Massachusetts and is qualified to appear before the various International tribunals, including the International Criminal Court (ICC). Residing and practicing primarily in The Hague, he is recognized as an expert in international criminal defence, including pre-trial, trial, and appellate advocacy. View all posts by Michael G. Karnavas