The United States, under President Donald Trump, has embarked on an unexpected and vigorous outreach to Russia and its strongman leader, Vladimir Putin. This dramatic shift in policy is fueled by a calculated ambition: to sow discord between Russia and China, two nations united in their mission to erode America’s long-standing supremacy on the global stage. Analysts have coined this tactic a “reverse Nixon,” drawing parallels to President Richard Nixon’s audacious pivot in the 1970s. Back then, Nixon warmed relations with Mao Zedong’s China to exploit tensions with the Soviet Union, a move that reshaped Cold War alliances and fueled China’s economic ascent. Trump’s current gambit seeks to flip that historical playbook, embracing Moscow to weaken its ties with Beijing.
Breaking apart the Russia-China alliance, however, is no small feat. In 2022, the two nations proclaimed a “no-limits” partnership, a bond that has since solidified through expanded military collaboration, shared intelligence efforts, and synchronized diplomatic agendas. China has emerged as a vital economic pillar for Russia, supplying critical components like semiconductors and industrial machinery—resources that sustain Moscow’s military endeavors amid Western pressure. This interdependence stands in stark contrast to the fractured Sino-Soviet relationship Nixon once leveraged, making Trump’s objective far more elusive.
This policy overhaul comes with significant costs. By tilting toward Russia and stepping back from its support for Ukraine, the U.S. is straining ties with its European allies, who collectively form America’s most significant trading bloc and a key source of foreign investment. The abrupt shift also risks unnerving Asian partners, whose support Washington would need in any future standoff with China. Trump recently amplified these tensions, unleashing a tirade against Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky that mirrored Kremlin talking points. Labeling Zelensky a dictator and wrongly pinning blame on Kyiv for the war ignited by Putin’s 2022 invasion, Trump’s words have deepened a growing divide. Coupled with Vice President JD Vance’s sharp-toned address to European leaders in Munich and other signs of faltering U.S. commitment to Ukraine, this approach has sparked the most severe trans-Atlantic rift in decades.
Nixon’s success in the 1970s hinged on exploiting a pre-existing schism. China and the Soviet Union were already at odds, having clashed in a 1969 border conflict and traded ideological barbs over their interpretations of communism. The subsequent U.S.-China alignment undercut Soviet influence, hastening its eventual unraveling. Today’s landscape is different, as Evan Feigenbaum, a former State Department official now with the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, points out. He describes Trump’s strategy as an inversion of Nixon’s triumph, arguing that it targets a unified front of autocratic powers with aligned interests. Instead of prying Russia and China apart, Feigenbaum notes, the U.S. is inadvertently fracturing its own Western alliances while Russia cozies up to both Washington and Beijing.
The Ukraine conflict has only tightened these adversarial ties. Western sanctions have driven Russia deeper into China’s embrace, while also forging new partnerships with Iran and North Korea. These nations now bolster Moscow’s war machine with drones, missiles, ammunition, and even North Korean troops. U.S. officials view this emerging coalition of autocracies as a pressing threat, one that could overwhelm American military resources if confronted simultaneously. Trump’s special envoy to Ukraine, retired Lt. Gen. Keith Kellogg, frames this as a “global struggle,” highlighting the unprecedented economic and military links among Russia, China, Iran, and North Korea. Trump’s push to resolve the Ukraine war quickly, he suggests, is motivated by a need to dismantle this formidable bloc.
Recent diplomatic moves reflect this new direction. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, fresh from high-level talks with Russian officials in Saudi Arabia—the most significant U.S.-Russia dialogue since 2022—touted the “remarkable potential” for geopolitical cooperation with Moscow. These discussions explored easing U.S. sanctions that have hobbled Russia’s economy, forcing it to lean heavily on China. A confidential Kremlin memo, crafted by a Russian think tank and intercepted by a Western government, outlined possible concessions to tempt the U.S. It proposed scaling back military and technological collaboration with China, restricting Beijing’s role in strategic infrastructure, and curbing Russian gas exports to Europe to favor American energy interests. The memo even dangled access for U.S. firms to mineral-rich zones in occupied Ukraine, a pitch tailored to Trump’s deal-making instincts.
Critics, however, doubt Russia’s capacity to deliver on such promises. Alina Polyakova, head of the Center for European Policy Analysis, argues that China has already outpaced Russia technologically, diminishing Moscow’s value as a counterweight. She cautions that abandoning Ukraine could embolden Beijing, suggesting that aggression—such as a move on Taiwan—might go unchecked. Adm. Samuel Paparo, head of the U.S. Indo-Pacific Command, echoes this skepticism, calling the Russia-China bond a “mutually beneficial exchange” too entrenched to disrupt. He dismisses the idea of splitting them as wishful thinking.
Putin’s options are further constrained by deeper dynamics. Russia’s alliance with China is rooted in long-term strategy, bolstered by geographic proximity and Beijing’s enduring one-party rule. A thaw with the U.S., by contrast, is fleeting—tied to Trump’s tenure, which ends in four years. A future administration, or even a midterm election shift, could undo any gains. Alexander Gabuev, director of the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center, underscores this reality: Russia sees China as a permanent neighbor and alienating it as a “life-or-death risk.” Still, Putin is unlikely to reject Trump’s overtures outright. A deal could deliver what three years of war have not—control over Kyiv and a broader foothold in Europe—without forcing Russia to sever ties with China.
Thomas Gomart, head of the French Institute of International Relations, agrees, suggesting Russia could accept Trump’s offerings “without cost” while preserving its Beijing lifeline. This dual-track approach leaves China in an enviable position. Beijing has long aimed to prop up Putin while peeling Europe away from the U.S.—goals once at odds but now converging thanks to Washington’s actions. As Trump vilifies Zelensky and European leaders, China’s Foreign Minister Wang Yi has seized the moral high ground, championing international norms and calling Ukraine a “valued ally” in recent talks.
In essence, Trump’s outreach to Putin seeks to fracture the Russia-China axis but risks fortifying it instead. The West is splintering, Europe is drifting, and Asia is wary, while Russia reaps rewards without abandoning China. Beijing, meanwhile, gains strategic ground in Europe, turning U.S. missteps into a diplomatic windfall. This “reverse Nixon” experiment, meant to redraw global power lines, may leave America more isolated, facing a united front of rivals it hoped to divide.
