Introduction
In season 9 episode 14 of South Park, “It’s a Jersey Thing” the people of the United States, particularly the town of South Park, face an existential threat: Jerseyites are invading their city. Desperate for salvation, Randy calls upon an unlikely ally—Al-Qaeda and Osama bin Laden—who ultimately save the town through suicide bombing. The episode plays on the principle that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” satirizing how existential crises can forge improbable alliances between sworn adversaries. Much like in the surreal alliances of South Park, the recent Oval Office confrontation between Trump and Zelesnky reveals a real-life echo of that absurdity—a political stage where traditional loyalties disintegrate and opportunism reigns. Instead of coming together against a common threat, the disastrous meeting was a transformation of ally into adversary, precisely when that ally faces its greatest peril. Just as South Park satirizes unexpected solidarity in crisis, the Trump-Zelensky exchange demonstrates its perverse opposite: abandonment disguised as peacemaking.
A historically unprecedented moment, the language used throughout the berating of the Ukrainian president by both President Trump and JD Vance clearly works to establish two dynamics: they are peace-loving humanists, Zelensky is a villainous murderer who wants nothing more than to continue filling his pockets while the youth of his nation bleeds out. Albert Camus’ seminal work The Rebel (1951), written in the shadow of World War II and rising totalitarianism, provides an insightful framework for understanding Trump and Vance’s pseudo-humanist rhetoric. In the novel, Camus explores the development of revolution and rebellion, arguing that true rebellion is a principled refusal of oppression—it says “no” to injustice by recognizing moral limits and “yes” to the inherent value and dignity of human life. Rebellion as an act of defiance arises from a deep awareness of our own worth, uniting individuals in solidarity and ensuring that resistance against tyranny does not itself become oppressive. Trump and Vance have hollowly appropriated Camus’s language of rebellion, twisting the defense of a dignified existence into a political tool.
Trump’s False Rebellion
By co-opting the Camusian language of peace, humanism, and concern for the lives of everyday people, Trump tries to transform Ukraine from a victim of an unprovoked invasion to a hindrance that must be overcome for the sake of peace. In a sense, Trump and his administration position themselves as rebels against the Biden administration’s approach to the conflict—a false rebellion that claims moral superiority while lacking genuine solidarity with the oppressed. This performance of rebellion against the foreign policy “establishment” allows Trump to present himself as aligned with “the defense of a dignity common to all men” while actually undermining the very principles of dignity Camus championed.1
The language from the meeting demonstrates this. For example, at the very beginning of the confrontation, JD Vance proclaims Trump’s policy as “the kind of diplomacy that is going to save” Ukraine. While outlining a policy of appeasing the aggressor and succumbing to the exact outcome Russia desires, Vance frames his approach as paternalistic, telling Zelensky how Ukraine will be saved if it gives up. This narrative is particularly ironic coming from a man who only a couple years ago said “I gotta be honest with you, I don’t really care what happens to Ukraine one way or another.”
Trump reinforced Vance’s positioning of false humanism and concern stating,“You’re gambling with the lives of millions of people,” in response to Zelensky’s comment on the effects the war has had on the United States. Through these words, Trump invokes Camus’ idea of true generosity—”real generosity toward the future lies in giving all to the present.”2 However, his interpretation twists its original intent. For Camus, giving all to the present meant securing a better, freer future in which rebellions are fought for dignity and against tyranny.3 In contrast, Trump’s version of “giving all” is withholding aid and forcing Ukraine into submission, ensuring not a future of self-determination but one dictated by his own political interests. In this world of manufactured real-politik, peacekeeping takes the form of coercion, presented as benevolence.
Trump’s Rationale and Moral Camouflage
Trump uses the distorted rhetoric of humanism as both a shield and a weapon in the geopolitical arena. What makes this inversion of the Camusian argument of rebellion so particularly beneficial to Trump is its perceived agreeableness. The rhetoric used by Trump and Vance creates a moral camouflage that positions the administration as a voice of sensible restraint. Their political calculation in this scenario is quite simple: for Trump, who lacks a concrete plan of resolving the conflict, it is easier to break David into submission than to confront Goliath. The problem with this rebellion is that it is only directed by the desire for Trump to force his version of history forward, and as Camus argued “rebellion with no other limits but historical expediency signifies unlimited slavery.”4 He does not recognize his own limitations and the complications of the ongoing war, believing that by destroying Zelensky’s support and his perceived identity as a global defender of democracy and liberalism. Trump can achieve this vision of fulfilling a historical need where he acts as the peaceful dealmaker.
This camouflage allows Trump to create what he sees as a winning political situation for himself regardless of outcome in the negotiations with Ukraine. If Zelensky surrenders Ukrainian sovereignty and dignity to Trump and Putin, Trump emerges as a dealmaker who has resolved a global crisis. If Ukraine pivots away from the US and relies on European allies, Trump forces Europe to fund its own security, while also saving a dime for the American taxpayer money. Finally, if Ukraine crumbles under Russia, then Trump was right about Zelensky all along. The Ukrainian president is a corrupt and unjust ruler who was only extending the conflict—one whose demise should be celebrated.
The problem with this reasoning is Trump’s oversimplified view of the war. He presents himself as a strategic dealmaker but mischaracterizes the war as a business negotiation rather than a historic geopolitical struggle. The presidential administration entirely overlooks the origins of the invasion and neglects the nature of Russian aggression. In doing so, Trump advances Putin’s vision of a Russian sphere of influence, where neighboring states exist only at Moscow’s mercy. This reasoning has already manifested into material form: days after the Oval Office confrontation, the White House confirmed a pause in military aid to Ukraine until its leaders “demonstrate a good-faith commitment to peace”—a euphemism for capitulation. By halting weapons already in transit while using the language of peace-seeking, Trump completes his rhetorical strategy—transforming actual support into conditional leverage. The irony is grotesque—punishing a nation facing an unprovoked invasion from its significantly larger and historically aggressive neighbor, while framing it as humanism.
Yet, to Trump, his false rebellion from the Biden administration and the overall bipartisan commitment to Russian containment is more important than the actual geopolitical reality. Trump has built his political identity on rebelling against the establishment. As a result, his rationale in this situation is dictated by doing the opposite of what Biden was doing, no matter its implications for Ukraine. This rationale is further reinforced by a pure disdain for Zelensky, originating from Trump’s first impeachment trial, and a fondness for Putin, the origins of which are not fully clear.
Ukraine as Homo Sacer
Trump’s perversion of humanism and Camusian rebellion has a profound impact on Ukraine—actively stripping its people of their agency and reducing them to what Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben calls Homo Sacer. Homo Sacer represents a legal and existential condition through which an individual or group is reduced to a life-form that can be killed without it being considered murder, yet cannot be sacrificed in a ritualistic sense.5 In the context of Ukraine, Trump’s rhetoric performs a crucial transformation: rendering Ukrainian lives as Homo Sacer within the global political landscape.
By framing Ukraine as an economic burden, a trigger for global conflict, and an unreasonable actor prolonging the war, Trump’s pseudo-humanist political discourse creates a space where Ukrainian suffering becomes acceptable, or, potentially, even desirable. The Ukrainian people become expendable as a result, allowing for Putin and Trump to operate in an environment of increased impunity. This subtraction of the human, due to oversimplification of historical dynamics and the commodification of negotiations, forces a total reconsideration of the United States as a reliable ally—not only for Ukraine but the broader world. By framing surrender as ‘peace,’ Trump’s false rebellion threatens the very ideal of solidarity Camus deemed essential to human dignity, and with it the commitment of the United States to worldwide security.
Conclusion
Trump’s commodification of peace signals a profound betrayal of humanist ideals in modern America and the ultimate perversion of the Camusian act of rebellion as a resource to promote totalitarian governance. As a result, Ukraine and the West face a defining choice— uphold these ideals or allow them to be cynically exploited. This is not the first time Europe has faced such a dilemma. In 1944, as Nazi Germany spread terror across the continent, Camus wrote: “You speak of Europe, but the difference is that for you Europe is a property… you think in terms of potential soldiers, granaries, industries brought to heel, intelligence under control.”6 Trump’s approach to foreign policy is exactly that, one rooted in his misguided, ego-driven desire to commercialize existence. However, by refusing to let Ukraine be bartered away to Trump or subjected to the destruction of its dignity, Ukraine can try to resist from being reduced to a “historical term”—losing all semblance of relevance in the current. This resistance would take the form of a true Camusian rebellion, refusing the desire of others to treat the country as nothing more than an object.7 Europe can reinforce this resistance through tangible action—providing military aid and funding rather than continuing the cycle of endless summits and diplomatic formalities.
Unlike in South Park, the material consequences of war do not end at the punchline—they endure in real suffering and global transformation. While the outcome of this resistance remains uncertain, abandoning Ukraine’s dignity would mean surrendering to the “unlimited slavery” Camus warns of. More importantly, Trump’s transformation of Ukraine into Agamben’s Homo Sacer would represent a shift in what dictates the sovereignty of a nation, a geopolitical strategy that profoundly threatens the fundamental principles of human dignity and national self-determination. If Zelensky and Ukraine yield under American pressure, which is likely, the nation will not only risk territorial loss but will also forfeit sovereignty in a new form. Ukraine will be reduced to political vassalage, economic subjugation, military dependence, and eternal entrapment in a narrative of captivity. These implications will also extend beyond Ukraine: Taiwan, the Baltics, Bosnia, Moldova and other frontiers of the marginality between democratic governance and totalitarian influence will face a new geopolitical calculus, one not shaped on shared values or international law but rather the expediency of a single administration. The era of national self-determination based on democratic principles will end, with the moral claim of nations to resist domination becoming negotiable currency in geopolitical transactions.
Featured/Headline Image Caption and Citation: “Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky (left) is harangued by US President Donald Trump in the Oval Office of the White House in Washington,” Image sourced from EPA Images | CC License, no changes made
- Camus, Albert. The Rebel: An Essay on Man in Revolt. Translated by Anthony Bower, foreword by Sir Herbert Read, revised and complete edition, First Vintage International Edition, Vintage Books, 1991, 13. ↩︎
- Camus, Albert. The Rebel, 151. ↩︎
- Camus, Albert. The Rebel, 136. ↩︎
- Camus, Albert. The Rebel, 146. ↩︎
- Agamben, Giorgio. Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life. Translated by Daniel Heller-Roazen. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1998, 12. ↩︎
- Jeffrey C. Isaac, quoting Albert Camus, “Letter to a Ukrainian Friend,” Democracy Seminar, March 1, 2025, https://democracyseminar.newschool.org/essays/letter-to-a-ukrainian-friend/. ↩︎
- Camus, Albert. The Rebel, 124. ↩︎