Russia in Trump’s Political Calculations Ahead of the 2026 Congressional Elections

If Donald Trump fails to secure his nomination for a third presidential term or remain in power by some other means (for example, by establishing himself as the permanent head of the American Empire), then the 2026 midterm congressional elections will mark the culmination of his second term. In this context, the White House’s strategic approach to Russia is beginning to resemble a casino table. The spin of this roulette wheel is expected either to produce a high-profile foreign policy breakthrough capable of silencing criticism from political opponents or, in the absence of quick successes, to push the issue out of the public spotlight. This binary approach creates instability in U.S.–Russia relations. Both sides continue to explore different options in search of a substantive agenda for engagement, but the scope of what has been identified so far falls short of expectations.

The Trump administration’s policy consists of several distinct tracks. The first is aimed at denying Russia access to U.S. technologies. The second raises the prospect of secondary tariffs targeting purchasers of Russian energy exports. The third is the president’s direct negotiating channel with Moscow.

The “summer pressure” episode in U.S.-Russia relations does not signify a definitive shift from negotiations to confrontation. Washington is maintaining pressure precisely because it does not regard the 2025 negotiations as concluded. Anchorage remains a symbol of possibility rather than a guarantee of implementation. Whether Donald Trump can turn bargaining into a sustainable policy will depend not on the strength of his presidential momentum but on the emergence of an enforcement mechanism. Pressure provides the president with leverage in bargaining with Moscow in pursuit of a pre-election deal. Should such a deal be reached, he will once again argue that the agreement was made possible through strength.

The very anticipation of the November elections creates a powerful incentive to secure rapid foreign policy success. Accordingly, the likelihood of renewed momentum in the negotiating track in the fall of 2026 should be assessed as high, with pressure and proposals for compromise expected to intensify in tandem. The next act in Donald Trump’s political performance—in which all of us, willingly or not, are participants—will feature procedural pressure linked to the elections, new sanctions legislation, tariffs, and new summits with Russia.

If Donald Trump fails to secure his nomination for a third presidential term or remain in power by some other means (for example, by establishing himself as the permanent head of the American Empire), then the 2026 midterm congressional elections will mark the culmination of his second term.

Donald Trump will, in any case, launch the next act of his political performance, promoting the results of his policy of strength, the MAGA ideology, U.S. superiority across all areas, while continuing his campaign of retribution against the Democrats, whom he believes deprived him of power in 2020. If overturning the election is legally difficult, a range of instruments remains available for contesting the results, including procedural litigation, challenges to mail-in voting, and disputes over the certification of voting equipment. Already, the president’s statements about how Democrats are stealing the election are widely known, but so are the also actual "test" measures: the U.S. Department of Justice has launched several investigations into alleged electoral violations.

In this context, the White House’s approach to Russia is beginning to resemble a casino table. The spin of this roulette wheel is expected either to produce a high-profile foreign policy breakthrough capable of silencing criticism from political opponents or, in the absence of quick successes, to push the issue out of the public spotlight. This binary approach creates instability in U.S.–Russia relations. Both sides are exploring different options in search of a substantive agenda for engagement, but the scope of what has been identified so far falls short of expectations.

The Trump administration has structured its diplomacy toward Russia around a strategy of “flexible pressure” and coercion. Every decision is designed to allow for rapid reversal without reputational cost. This approach contains an inherent flaw: if Moscow knows that sanctions can be lifted by executive action, the sanctions mechanism loses its effectiveness. If the Kremlin sees that sanctions relief can be withdrawn through a new directive from the U.S. Department of the Treasury, the effect of that relief is effectively nullified. A flexible instrument sends a weak signal, a phenomenon that was well understood long before Donald Trump. The effectiveness and credibility of a threat depend on the inability to retreat from it.

The U.S. administration has coercive instruments at its disposal, but they are reversible. Donald Trump still intends to raise the cost of Russia’s “disobedience” while preserving the possibility of a deal. Washington is not burning bridges; instead, it is constructing a system of controlled pressure. By all accounts, the president and his advisers appear to recognize the risks inherent in this approach, which is why they are interested in expanding their ability to terminate pressure rapidly should the desired agreement be reached. To better understand this approach, it is best to examine Donald Trump’s latest moves by breaking them down into several levels.

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Russia as a Managed Threat

The doctrinal foundation of this policy remains unchanged. The 2026 National Defense Strategy describes Russia as a “persistent but manageable threat” to NATO’s eastern members. The U.S. acknowledges Russia’s military and industrial capabilities, as well as its capacity to wage a protracted war. At the same time, Washington assumes that Moscow is not in a position to seek hegemony in Europe and that Europe’s allies are capable of containing Russia on their own. Doctrinal documents downplay the threat, yet the practical measures point to an escalation of pressure. Strategists characterize Russia as a “manageable threat,” while the policy instruments are being designed as though the threat were existential: crippling sanctions against the country’s two largest oil companies, secondary tariffs, and technological isolation. The downgrade is aimed at Europe, with the aim of redistributing the costs, while increased pressure is directed at Moscow to boost Washington’s negotiating leverage.

This assessment differs from the earlier concept of Russia’s “strategic defeat.” Russia is recognized as a threat, but one that is interpreted as limited. From Washington’s current perspective, Russia is dangerous but does not rank as a top priority. Accordingly, U.S. policy toward Russia is expected to combine firmness, aimed at limiting Russia’s capabilities, with flexibility, intended to prevent a European conflict from escalating into a major war for the U.S.

This strategic outlook defines the framework of the current sanctions policy, which can be characterized as using a “snapback” method—the ability to reinstate all restrictions. The same logic underpins technology restrictions and other policy measures.

Education and National Security

Russian universities have found themselves at the center of a campaign to tighten control over and securitize science and education, which started in the United States as early as 2025. The White House views the academic sphere both as part of the ideological confrontation with the “radical left” and as an element of the national defense infrastructure.

In July 2026, the U.S. Department of Defense published an updated list of designated foreign entities appended to the National Defense Authorization Act. The list is intended for U.S. defense contractors and other recipients of Department of Defense funding. It also includes 130 academic and research institutions from China, Russia, and Iran. According to the Department, these institutions pose a risk of misappropriating the results of research funded by the U.S. government. The Russian segment of the list was expanded by more than thirty organizations, while leading civilian universities in China (including Fudan University) were included for the first time. Earlier versions of the list already featured Astrakhan State University, Lomonosov Moscow State University, the Moscow Aviation Institute, the Higher School of Economics, the Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology, and others. The key development is not in identifying ties to the defense sector, but the prohibition on funding by the U.S. Department of Defense or entities acting in partnership with it. The restrictions also extend to personnel affiliated with Russian organizations: U.S. researchers are required to disclose such contacts.

An analogy with the Dwight D. Eisenhower era is appropriate here, albeit with an important caveat: the issue of national security and university oversight can be used to both positive and negative ends. Following the launch of the Soviet satellite, the White House introduced the National Defense Education Act of 1958, which provided additional funding for technical education, laboratory facilities, and foreign language training. This was a form of securitization with positive effects: science was framed as a matter of national security and received additional resources to expand its networks.

Today, science is likewise framed as a matter of national security. Unlike in the 1950s, however, funding is being cut. In February 2026, the U.S. Department of Defense terminated programs at Harvard and extended its review to other universities, citing “significant adversarial interference.” In the 1950s, the federal government tied universities more closely to the defense establishment; today, it is loosening those ties. This is not a return to the Eisenhower model, but rather securitization in reverse. The Trump administration appears to believe that technological sovereignty is ensured less through expanding the scientific base than through limiting participation to institutions and actors regarded as politically reliable. Cutting off funding is presented as a means of closing channels for foreign interference and technology leakage. This is what “negative securitization” entails. National security status thus becomes the basis not for providing science with additional resources, as it did under Eisenhower, but for excluding certain universities. The cost of this policy is clear: it narrows the community of researchers and the network of contacts from which the discoveries needed by the Department of Defense itself ultimately emerge.

For the election campaign, the list carries additional political significance. The administration presents it as evidence of its commitment to protecting taxpayer money, intellectual property, and—central to Donald Trump’s political narrative—U.S. scientific superiority. For Trump, who has long portrayed himself as a champion of “draining the swamp,” it represents another institutional victory. At the same time, the list reinforces the Republican narrative that Democratic administrations blurred the line between international cooperation and technological security. During House of Representatives hearings as early as 2017, lawmakers examined the State Department’s support for U.S. participation in Skolkovo projects, while the FBI warned of the risks of technology transfer. This issue is likely to re-emerge during the election campaigns this fall.

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No less significant is the bill on new sanctions against Russia that has long been under discussion in Congress. In early July, Senators Lindsey Graham, Richard Blumenthal, Jeanne Shaheen, and others—known for sponsoring “dormant” Russia-related sanctions bills—announced that they had reached agreement with the Trump administration on a new version of the legislation. Following Lindsey Graham’s death in July 2026, the bill was renamed in his honor and formally introduced in mid-July, although as of early August it had not yet become law. The likelihood of the bill becoming a law is considerably high, even though the House of Representatives has not yet considered the text. Under an accelerated timeline, the bill could reach the president’s desk as early as September, providing Donald Trump with a tariff instrument at precisely the moment when the administration will need to demonstrate a foreign policy achievement ahead of the elections. If the legislation is not enacted before November, work on it is expected to continue during the “lame-duck” session. The legislative process will need to be restarted only if the bill does not become law before the end of the 119^th Congress’s term (January 3, 2027).

Lindsey Graham’s death did not prompt Donald Trump to alter his position abruptly, but it did transform the compromise already reached into an object of political bargaining. Congress gained an opportunity to demonstrate bipartisan resolve toward Russia, while the president was able to support the initiative of a late ally and intensify pressure on Moscow. Russian experts have already analyzed the bill in detail: the essence of the compromise is that the White House accepts Congress’s authority over the lifting of sanctions, while the executive branch retains control over the scope of the sanctions and the designation of sanctioned individuals and entities.

Donald Trump endorsed the bill after recognizing that it contained a mechanism allowing the president to impose tariffs unilaterally—a power that had previously been partially blocked by the Supreme Court. Lindsey Graham appears to have convinced the president that a legal pathway remained available and publicly urged the White House to support the legislation, emphasizing the expansion of the executive’s authority. In other words, what the president seeks is not sanctions and tariffs as ends in themselves, but rather an instrument for exerting pressure and conducting negotiations.

This approach to economic measures has already been tested on India. In August 2025, Donald Trump imposed an additional 25 percent tariff on Indian goods, linking the measure to India’s purchases of Russian oil. In February 2026, the tariff was lifted. The presidential executive order cited New Delhi’s commitments to end imports of Russian oil, purchase U.S. energy exports, and expand defense cooperation with the United States. At the same time, federal agencies were instructed to reimpose the tariffs through a snapback mechanism should those imports resume. The objective of this pressure is to influence behavior while advancing U.S. exports and defense agreements.

Diplomacy Without “Docking”

The 2025 summit was beneficial for both countries, but it remained disconnected from other decisions on sanctions, European policy, and the broader U.S. strategy. The meeting between Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin in Anchorage in August 2025 was intended to combine leader-level diplomacy with pressure and compromise. Administration officials stated that their objective was a comprehensive peace agreement rather than a temporary ceasefire, emphasizing that concessions could not be discussed publicly. By February 2026, Marco Rubio had articulated the administration’s position without the romanticism of the “spirit of Anchorage”: the United States would continue supplying arms to Ukraine, sharing intelligence, and maintaining sanctions pressure on Russia, while seeking to preserve its role as a moderator capable of influencing both sides. Anchorage has not been abandoned—there is nothing to abandon, legally speaking­—but the summit no longer shapes day-to-day policy.

The problem lies in the lack of “docking”—the institutional alignment of presidential initiatives with agency decisions, legislation, sanctions licenses, and the budget. It is precisely this disconnect between direct diplomacy and bureaucratic implementation that defines the limits of Donald Trump’s foreign policy approach.

The “spirit of Anchorage” as a concept can be understood to mean a mutual understanding had been reached and would subsequently be translated into concrete decisions, still exists. However, it is not tied to current policy. The words hang in the air, and Donald Trump is unable to link the compromise agreements to a political course of action. Anchorage remained a meeting that opened the prospect of negotiations but did not give rise to any obligations. Russia views the summit as a political foundation, any departure from which requires explanation. The U.S., by contrast, maintains that such a foundation can only emerge through the conclusion of an actual agreement. Because the understandings were never institutionalized, new restrictive measures are not viewed in Washington as a departure from Anchorage. The direct channel of communication has been maintained, but no mechanism has emerged to keep executive agencies operating within the bounds of the verbal understandings. As a result, Anchorage remains not the foundation of a new policy, but an unfinished episode that may be revisited repeatedly until the agreements acquire an institutional form.

The lack of institutional alignment is both a personal trait of Donald Trump and a structural feature of the modern U.S. foreign policy apparatus. The U.S. decision-making system exhibits a disconnect between presidential decisions and their implementation—a classic weakness of the bureaucratic model. A presidential decision does not conclude the process; it initiates it. What follows is bargaining among government agencies. The Department of State, the Department of the Treasury, the Department of Defense, and the Intelligence Community implement presidential directives only to the extent that they are compatible with their respective priorities and institutional procedures.

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The Trump administration’s policy consists of several distinct tracks. The first is aimed at denying Russia access to U.S. technologies. The second raises the prospect of secondary tariffs targeting purchasers of Russian energy exports. The third is the president’s direct negotiating channel with Moscow.

The “summer pressure” episode in U.S.-Russia relations does not signify a definitive shift from negotiations to confrontation. Washington is maintaining pressure precisely because it does not regard the 2025 negotiations as concluded. Anchorage remains a symbol of possibility rather than a guarantee of implementation. Whether Donald Trump can turn bargaining into a sustainable policy will depend not on the strength of his presidential momentum but on the emergence of an enforcement mechanism. Pressure provides the president with leverage in bargaining with Moscow in pursuit of a pre-election deal. Should such a deal be reached, he will once again argue that the agreement was made possible through strength.

The very anticipation of the November elections creates a powerful incentive to secure a rapid foreign policy success. Accordingly, the likelihood of renewed momentum in the negotiating track in the fall of 2026 should be assessed as high, with pressure and proposals for compromise expected to intensify in tandem. The next act in Donald Trump’s political performance—in which all of us, willingly or not, are participants—will feature procedural pressure linked to the elections, new sanctions legislation, tariffs, and new summits with Russia.