As Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky heads to the White House this Friday, the debate over long-range missiles has become less about battlefield calculus and more about a high-stakes game of nuclear poker that risks core American security interests for a non-ally.
Zelensky aims for President Donald Trump’s agreement to deliver the long-range Tomahawk missiles to Ukraine. The topic dominated two consecutive phone calls between Zelensky and Trump over the weekend—an unprecedented frequency that signals the issue's urgency.
Publicly, Zelensky confirmed that Trump has not taken the decision yet. Seeking to assuage concerns over escalation of the war with Russia, Zelensky sought to assure Trump that any provided Tomahawk missiles would strike “only military targets.” Zelensky, however, could well designate objects of energy infrastructure and even the Kremlin itself legitimate “military objects,” as he himself has warned recently.
Seemingly aware of the risks, Trump has framed the decision on Tomahawks as a point of leverage. He stated he will first speak with Russia’s President Vladimir Putin, demanding an end to the war and implying that a Russian refusal could trigger the missiles’ transfer. He also candidly acknowledged that such a move would be a “new step of aggression" that Russia “does not need,” citing both the risks and limited U.S. weapons stocks.
Trump’s approach reveals a transactional logic. The threat of Tomahawks is not primarily a military calculation but a diplomatic cudgel intended to “get a deal.” The back-to-back calls with Zelensky serve as a performance of resolve, a signal to the Kremlin that the administration is serious about altering the conflict’s dynamics.
But beneath this surface lies a far more dangerous strategic gambit. The Tomahawk debate is no longer merely about enhancing Ukraine’s strike capability; it has become the central chip in a high-stakes game of coercion between Washington and Moscow, one where the specter of nuclear escalation is being deliberately invoked.
On the one hand, Moscow officially “welcomes” Trump’s stated intention to focus on the war in Ukraine following a settlement in Gaza. The Kremlin’s spokesman Dmitry Peskov praised Trump’s Special Envoy Steve Witkoff for his “effectiveness” and expressed hope that “his talents will further contribute to the Ukrainian direction. The Russian side maintains its openness and readiness for a peaceful dialogue”.
On the other, the Russian position contains a stark warning. While officials publicly dismiss the Tomahawks’ ability to change the battlefield, they have consistently framed their potential delivery as a major escalation. The rhetoric from Moscow is deliberately grave: Peskov and Dmitry Medvedev, the deputy chair of the security council, both indicated that Russia could interpret the launch of Tomahawks against its territory as an attempt to deliver a nuclear strike.
“The issue of Tomahawks is a source of extreme concern for us. President Putin has already spoken about this. This is a special weapon; it can be configured for conventional or nuclear warheads. It has a long range and is a serious weapon…. Now we are at a very dramatic moment, with tensions being escalated from all sides…. Military experts overseas must understand this,” Peskov said.
If Moscow does interpret a Tomahawk launch against Russian territory as an attempt of a nuclear strike, this could, theoretically, be framed as a justification for Russia to use nuclear weapons—either against Ukraine, or against Ukraine and the U.S. or other NATO countries.
This logic rests on Moscow’s assertion that the use of Tomahawks would be impossible without the direct involvement and guidance of US military personnel. The Kremlin’s longstanding suspicions now have tangible evidence, with revelations in the Financial Times confirming that American intelligence has been guiding Ukrainian strikes on Russian energy infrastructure.
Moscow’s message is not subtle. It is a calculated attempt to raise the stakes to a level that would give any U.S. president pause.
In Kiev, a prevailing belief holds that Moscow’s nuclear threats are a bluff, akin to the pre-invasion warnings that were tragically underestimated in 2022. The logic is that the mere threat of Tomahawks is already working, with Zelensky asserting that “we see and hear that Russia is afraid,” and that this pressure can be leveraged for peace talks.
But this optimism may be dangerously misplaced. Tomahawks may not necessarily alter the dynamics on the battlefield, where Russia is slowly but steadily advancing. In this context, the deliveries of the Tomahawks may not in itself change Putin’s calculus.
But if Putin in his anticipated call with Trump reiterates—even implicitly—the nuclear warning he has telegraphed through Peskov and Medvedev, the U.S. president will face a historic choice: either to proceed with deliveries or back down.
A significant danger is that Trump, buoyed by his success in Gaza, may be encouraged by establishment hawks to view Putin’s obstinacy not merely as a geopolitical problem, but as a personal challenge to his deal-making prowess. This perception—fueled by Putin’s own stubborn refusal to halt strikes on Ukraine—could push him toward a harder line.
That could lead him to call Moscow’s bluff and give Tomahawks to Ukraine—crossing a redline the Biden administration carefully avoided and fully embracing the interventionist logic of the foreign policy blob that has long sought a direct confrontation with Russia. The alternative—folding—would, in this scenario, be framed not just as revealing the limits of American coercion, but as a personal defeat, conceding a failure of his own unique brand of pressure politics.
Further complicating the decision is the practical reality. As Trump himself admitted, the U.S. stockpile of Tomahawks is not infinite—Defense Priorities’ Jennifer Kavanagh estimates there are fewer than 4,000 missiles. She doubts the U.S. “would be willing to share the weapon and its sensitive technology with the Ukrainians, especially with the risk that the missile or its remnants might fall into Russian hands”.
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Furthermore, the proposal is fraught with significant logistical hurdles. Ukraine lacks the naval or ground-based platforms required to launch Tomahawk missiles. Deploying them would necessitate the use of the U.S. Army’s “Typhon” system—a complex platform that may be ill-suited to the demands of the Ukrainian front.
While Ukrainian sources speak of a new launcher from a U.S. defense company, its operational readiness and effectiveness remain unproven. Crucially, any Tomahawk system would be wholly dependent on U.S. intelligence, targeting, and technical support. This deep integration would mark a definitive step toward direct U.S.–Russian confrontation, moving beyond the provision of intelligence to the active enablement of deep-strike operations.
As Zelensky arrives in Washington, the push for Tomahawks represents the culmination of a failed policy. It is not a path to peace, but the next logical step toward the U.S.–Russia conflict long desired by the hawks. For American interests, the question is not whether Ukraine can hit Moscow, but why the United States should edge toward nuclear war in a conflict that does not threaten its sovereignty. A true America First policy would reject this escalation, prioritize diplomacy, and end the dangerous fantasy that U.S. security is advanced by becoming a direct participant in a devastating European war.
