14-Points vs 28-Points
When President Woodrow Wilson unveiled his Fourteen Points in January 1918, he was not merely outlining terms to end World War I. He was attempting to recast the entire architecture of world affairs. His plan — idealistic, sweeping, and deeply rooted in a belief that diplomacy could replace the cycles of militarism — became a benchmark against which future peace proposals would be measured. More than a century later, Donald Trump appears eager to step onto that same historical stage.
Trump’s announcement of Twenty-Eight Points to resolve the war in Ukraine is, at first glance, a modern exercise in diplomatic problem-solving. But the arithmetic itself is doing some of the rhetorical work. By doubling Wilson’s number, Trump signals an unmistakable intention: his plan is not simply an intervention in a troubled region but a bid for a legacy that rivals, and perhaps surpasses, one of the most consequential presidential peace frameworks of the twentieth century. Where Wilson presented a blueprint for ending the Great War, Trump casts his proposal as a comprehensive route out of a conflict that seemed to have hardened into a grinding and ambiguous stalemate.
To be sure, the contexts could hardly be more different. Wilson addressed a world fractured by imperial rivalries and trench warfare, while Trump seeks to influence a conflict shaped by post-Soviet geopolitics, technological asymmetry, and great-power recalculations. Yet the symmetry between Fourteen and Twenty-Eight is unmistakably intentional. It places Trump’s proposal in direct dialogue with Wilson’s precedent, inviting comparisons between the two presidents’ visions for global stability.
Whether Trump’s plan ultimately achieves traction is a question for policymakers and historians alike. But his strategy is clear: by invoking, echoing, and even numerically amplifying Wilson’s approach, he aims to position himself not only as a negotiator in a contemporary crisis but as a figure seeking entry into the longer ledger of statesmen who have attempted to redefine the shape of peace itself. In the end, the Twenty-Eight Points are more than a policy document. They are a statement of ambition—an attempt to claim a place in a diplomatic tradition that began long before him and will undoubtedly continue long after.
Of the many peace proposals that have emerged from the crucible of major conflict, few present a starker contrast in philosophical underpinnings and vision for the international order than Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points of 1918 and the implicit, often contradictory, set of principles that might be distilled from Donald Trump’s foreign policy approach, which we may provocatively term a "Twenty-Eight Points." The former, articulated in the waning days of the First World War, was a monumental, if flawed, endeavor to establish a "peace without victors." The latter, emerging a century later, represents a modern incarnation of the Melian Dialogue’s brutal realism, where power is its own justification and the dynamics of the strong and the weak dictate outcomes. Wilson’s vision, for all its idealism, sought to build a system to transcend the old logic of power politics, while the Trump approach constitutes a deliberate and forceful return to it, framing international relations as a realm where might makes right.
Wilson’s Fourteen Points: The Architecture of a Peace Without Victors
Emerging from the unprecedented carnage of the Great War, Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points was a radical document. Its central, revolutionary premise was that the coming peace should not be a punitive settlement imposed by victors upon vanquished, but a just and lasting order that would prevent future conflicts. This was a direct repudiation of the kind of peace that had historically followed major wars, such as the Treaty of Paris in 1815 or the one that would, ironically, be partially imposed on Germany at Versailles.
The Points were meticulously designed to address the perceived causes of the war. Open diplomacy (Point I) sought to eliminate the secret treaties that had entangled Europe. Freedom of the seas (Point II) and the removal of economic barriers (Point III) aimed to create a interdependent world where commerce, not conquest, was the path to prosperity. The call for arms reduction (Point IV) was a nod to the devastating arms race that had preceded the conflict. Most significantly, the Points championed the principle of self-determination (implicit in Points VI-XIII), proposing the redrawing of European borders along ethnic and national lines to dismantle the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman empires and grant sovereignty to submerged nations.
The capstone of this new order was the fourteenth point: "A general association of nations... for the purpose of affording mutual guarantees of political independence and territorial integrity to great and small states alike." The League of Nations was to be the mechanism that would institutionalize this "peace without victors," a forum where disputes could be adjudicated rather than settled on the battlefield. It was an attempt to replace the anarchic, balance-of-power politics of the 19th century with a rules-based system, grounded in law and collective security. While the effort ultimately foundered on the rocks of domestic American politics and European vindictiveness, its ambition was undeniable: to create a world where the weak would be protected by a community of nations, and the strong would be constrained by a common set of rules.
The Melian Dialogue: The Antithesis of Wilsonianism
To understand the nature of a "Trumpian peace," one must first look to Thucydides’ *History of the Peloponnesian War* and the famous dialogue between the Athenian generals and the magistrates of the tiny island of Melos. The Athenians, at the height of their power, demand Melos’ submission. The Melians appeal to justice, neutrality, and the gods. The Athenians dismiss these appeals with cold, brutal logic:
"The strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must."
This statement is the purest essence of realpolitik, stripped of all pretence. It asserts that in the realm of international affairs, morality, justice, and established rules are irrelevant when they conflict with the interests of a superior power. Power is self-justifying; the ability to impose one’s will is the only legitimate authority. The dialogue ends with the Athenians laying siege to Melos, eventually executing the men and enslaving the women and children. The lesson is not that this is morally right, but that this is, in the Athenian view, the immutable law of nations. It is a world without a higher authority, where security is derived solely from one’s own strength and the prudent calculation of stronger forces.
Trump’s 28 Points: A Modern Melian Peace
The "28 Points" document from the Trump administration is founded on transactional bilateralism, nationalist rhetoric, and a skepticism of multilateral institutions. This framework constitutes a wholesale rejection of the Wilsonian project and a revival of the Melian logic.
- Sovereignty as Absolute Autonomy : Unlike Wilson’s vision of pooled sovereignty in a League, the Trump principle holds national sovereignty as absolute and non-negotiable. International institutions like the United Nations, NATO, and the World Trade Organization are viewed not as pillars of a rules-based order, but as constraints on American power and infringements on its freedom of action.
- Transactionalism Over Alliances : Alliances are not sacred bonds underpinned by shared values and collective security, as in the Wilsonian-Kantian tradition. They are transactional relationships to be constantly re-evaluated based on a immediate cost-benefit analysis. The demands for increased defense spending from NATO allies and the treatment of partners as potential "freeloaders" reflect this.
- Economic Nationalism as Power : Where Wilson sought to lower trade barriers to foster interdependence, the Trump doctrine saw trade as a zero-sum competition. Tariffs and trade wars were tools not just for economic gain, but for demonstrating and exercising power, forcing weaker nations to capitulate to American demands.
- The Primacy of Unilateral Power : The withdrawal from the Paris Agreement, the Iran Nuclear Deal, and the Trans-Pacific Partnership, among others, signaled a preference for unilateral action. The ability to "do what we can" as the strongest nation was prioritized over the tedious process of multilateral negotiation and compromise.
In this framework, the United States assumes the role of Athens. It does not seek to be a *primus inter pares* (first among equals) in a Wilsonian system, but the undisputed hegemon in a Melian world. Its actions communicate that the established rules apply only when they serve American interests. For weaker nations, the choice is stark: align with American demands ("what they must") or face consequences, whether economic sanctions, political isolation, or military threat. The negotiation with a smaller power is not a discussion among legal equals, as Wilson’s League would have it, but an ultimatum from a superior—a modern recreation of the dialogue on Melos.
The central flaw that Wilson identified: a peace imposed on the vanquished is inherently unstable given the humiliation and resentment it breeds, which become the seeds of future conflict.
- With Allies: Forcing allies to comply through threats erodes the trust and shared values that are the true foundation of an alliance. It transforms a coalition based on mutual interest into an empire based on tribute, fostering resentment and encouraging strategic hedging. An ally that feels vanquished is no longer a reliable ally.
- With Adversaries: A diktat may secure temporary concessions, but it does not resolve underlying conflicts. It teaches the adversary that the only path to security is to build sufficient power to resist future ultimatums, accelerating arms races and entrenching hostility. As China responds not by capitulating but by doubling down on its own technological and strategic autonomy, the failure of the diktat approach becomes clear.
- With the Global Order: By dismantling the rules-based system, the strong do not create a stable hegemony; they create an anarchic and predictable world where every nation, large and small, learns that power is the only law. This ultimately makes the world more dangerous and unpredictable for the strong as well, as new powers rise and coalitions form to balance against the hegemon.
Wilson’s Fourteen Points was a failed but prescient attempt to escape the cyclical violence of victor's peace. It was an argument for a world of laws. Trump's "28 Points" represents the triumph of the Melian Dialogue's logic. It is a peace of the vanquished, a series of diktats where the powerful United States, playing the role of Athens, seeks to impose its will on a world cast as Melos. The profound tragedy is that this approach misunderstands the nature of modern power. In an interconnected world, security and prosperity cannot be sustainably maintained through domination and diktat. By creating a world of vanquished—of resentful allies, determined adversaries, and a shattered global commons—the strong, in the long run, ultimately vanquish their own future security. The peace of the victor, as Versailles proved, often contains the blueprint for its own destruction.
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