When Peace Becomes Betrayal: A Trauma-Informed Reflection on the U.S. Plan for Ukraine
“When peace demands silence from the oppressed, it’s not peace—it’s power in disguise.”
—Mary Coughlin
When Peace Becomes Betrayal: A Trauma-Informed Reflection on the U.S. Plan for Ukraine
There are moments in history when we are asked not just to witness, but to remember. To hold the weight of what is unfolding, not as a distant observer, but as a participant in a global story about justice, sovereignty, and the soul of democracy.
This week, historian Heather Cox Richardson offered a chilling summary of the U.S. administration’s proposed “peace plan” for Ukraine—a plan that, under the guise of resolution, betrays the very principles it claims to uphold. It rewards the aggressor. It abandons a partner. And it revives a covert blueprint that echoes backroom deals struck with authoritarian powers nearly a decade ago.
As someone committed to trauma-informed, developmental, and justice-centered care—not only in the NICU, but in every system we touch—I cannot stay silent.
Because this is not just foreign policy. This is trauma playing out on a global scale.
When "Peace" Is a Disguised Violation
The plan reportedly requires Ukraine to:
Cede occupied territories to Russia,
Abandon its aspirations to join NATO,
Accept vague security promises with no real enforcement,
And "repay" U.S. aid with future mineral deals and energy cooperation.
All while Russia continues its assault on Ukrainian civilians.
Let us be clear: this is not peace. This is appeasement. This is an abusive dynamic rebranded as diplomacy—coercion framed as collaboration, extraction disguised as aid.
From a trauma-informed lens, it mirrors what survivors know all too well:
You’re safer if you don’t resist.
We’ll help you, but you’ll owe us.
Be grateful. It could be worse.
The Cost of Erased Truth
Ukraine’s resistance is not, as some claim, “inflammatory.” It is the moral clarity that trauma-informed systems demand. In rejecting the forced concessions, President Zelensky is refusing to collude with a false narrative. He is refusing to normalize conquest. And he is refusing to let a generation of children inherit the silence of the world’s complicity.
History tells us what happens when we abandon the truth for comfort. The echoes of appeasement in the 1930s are not far off. Nor are the wounds of colonial powers who exploited trauma and called it help.
Why It Matters—To All of Us
We cannot build trauma-informed systems in our hospitals and schools, our communities and governments, if we do not also demand trauma-informed diplomacy. That means:
Respecting sovereignty.
Honoring truth.
Centering the needs and voices of those most affected.
And resisting the urge to “move on” before healing can occur.
A just world order cannot be built on ultimatums, manipulation, and profit.
If we allow this proposed plan to become precedent, we send a message not only to Ukraine, but to every nation: Your suffering can be bargained. Your borders are negotiable. Your trauma is a transaction.
We cannot let that become the legacy of our generation.
What We Can Do
Let us remember:
Trauma-informed care is not soft. It is principled.
Peace is not passive. It is hard-won.
And history does not only belong to the victors. It belongs to the ones who remember.
If you’re reading this, consider sharing it. Reflect on what trauma-informed governance would require in this moment. Call your representatives. Speak to your communities. Name the betrayal.
And when you're ready, join us in REIMAGINING a world that centers healing, justice, and belonging—from the bedside to the border, from the soul to the system.
Because peace—true peace—cannot come at the cost of someone else’s freedom.
With resolve and remembrance,
Mary Coughlin
Founder, Caring Essentials Collaborative
Trauma-Informed Advocate | Nurse | Weaver of Justice
P.S. True peace requires protest. On May Day, stand with those who refuse to trade justice for convenience. Join the global call for dignity, democracy, and a world that refuses to forget. Find a protest near you—or start one. This is our line in the sand.
