When U.S. Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene hinted that she no longer feels a connection with the Republican Party, many read it as yet another flare-up of the same “dislike of Ukrainians” that is allegedly spreading across America. But the provocative question “why do Americans dislike Ukrainians?” is a false frame. First, the overwhelming majority of Americans support Ukraine, including a large share of the Republican electorate and a notable group of Republicans in Congress. Second, those who oppose assistance are rarely driven by an emotion of “dislike” toward Ukrainians as such. Their set of motives is a mix of “America First” populism, fatigue with overseas campaigns, ideas of “restraint” (limiting commitments), political gameplay inside the United States, and the influence of disinformation. This does not diminish the toxicity of particular statements, but it does allow for a more precise understanding of how to build arguments that work. Such a view is especially necessary now that Greene has become the symbol of the “anti-Ukrainian” camp for many— a politician who regularly spreads scandalous and inaccurate claims and, in recent days, has been loudly feuding with her own party, while still saying she does not intend to remain independent.
Let’s start with facts that often get lost in the noise of social media. In April 2024, the House of Representatives voted separately on the Ukraine aid package: 311 “in favor” versus 112 “against.” Among Republicans, the votes split, but 101 Republicans did support the bill despite pressure from right-flank figures like Greene. A few days later, the Senate approved an overall $95.3 billion package (Ukraine, Israel, the Indo-Pacific) by a tally of 79–18. These are bipartisan, public results that do not fit the narrative that “America is tired and has turned away.”
Polls are also much more complex than they seem from loud headlines. In February 2025, Pew Research recorded that only 30% of Americans consider support for Ukraine “excessive,” while 39% say it helps U.S. national security. Yes, among Republicans the share of skeptics is higher (47% call the support excessive), but that is not “total” opposition, and even here a significant portion sees a security dividend. The dynamics after the 2024 election also shifted: the percentage of those who would like more support increased.
Why, then, do figures like Greene seem so influential? Because they combine several currents. The first is populist. In this register, aid to Ukraine is a symbol of elite politics that supposedly “betrays” ordinary Americans. Greene says outright that party leaders have “turned away from America First,” and that the Republican establishment operates under the sway of the “good ole boys.” The same Greene denies any intention to leave the party, yet publicly brands the leadership and constructs a “people vs. elites” conflict. This works in media logic—conflict is always louder than consensus—and creates the illusion that “everyone is against Ukraine.”
The second current is the ideology of a “limited” external presence. Senator (now Vice President) J.D. Vance, long before his current positions, argued that “endless” funding for Ukraine does not serve U.S. interests, calling on Europe to shoulder a greater fiscal burden. The line “this is not our war” is often repeated by various right-wing speakers. It resonates with the public not because Americans “dislike Ukrainians,” but because a segment of voters—primarily conservative—regards domestic problems, debts, and the southern border as priorities. And here it is important to answer honestly: a discussion about burden-sharing with Europe is legitimate, but the conclusion to stop aid is clearly mistaken and even dangerous from the standpoint of American security.
The third current is “geopolitical pragmatism” in a simplified, even caricatured form: make a quick deal with Putin, let Kyiv make territorial concessions “just to end it.” The problem is that the Kremlin does not conceal its minimum demands: control over all occupied parts of the four regions (as hastily enshrined in Russia’s constitution) and Ukraine’s renunciation of NATO as a precondition for peace. No coercion on these terms guarantees either Ukraine’s security or Europe’s stability. Instead, it rewards aggression and provokes a new turn of conflicts—exactly the spiral from which the United States has tried for decades to protect the continent.
The fourth current is disinformation. In July of this year, Greene circulated a video of protests in Kyiv with the claim that Ukrainians had risen up against Zelenskyy because of a refusal to make peace with Russia. Fact-checkers responded immediately: it was a protest against controversial anti-corruption amendments, and the authorities rolled back the decision after public pushback. Russian information operations systematically fuel such narratives—from the “Nazification” of Ukraine to a “chain of corruption”—and U.S. intelligence services regularly warn about the Kremlin’s attempts to influence the American audience, including through bots and manipulation on social media. When a congresswoman with millions of followers picks up this content, it instantly becomes part of America’s internal political struggle.
The fifth current is the media ecosystem of “infotainment.” Hosts and influencers who call the war “not our business” or distort the context appeal to emotions. For example, the infamous interview of Vladimir Putin with Tucker Carlson became a convenient platform for the Kremlin to retransmit theses about a war “started by others.” And it was American fact-checkers and leading agencies that had to correct this picture. In such an atmosphere, it is no surprise that part of the electorate grows tired of a topic presented as yet another distant quarrel among elites.
From this follows an important distinction. Are these politicians and media personalities “agents of the Kremlin”? In most cases—no. Of course, there is no evidence of such a direct link, and throwing around such accusations is highly irresponsible. But does the Kremlin use their messages in its information war? Yes, and this is documented in analyses by government and European bodies. Here it is more accurate to speak of useful resonance: when internal American narratives align with Kremlin messages without any direct contact. The response should not be labels, but systematic explanations and numbers.
What arguments work? First and foremost—a level-headed explanation that support for Ukraine is not charity at the expense of taxpayers for the benefit of foreigners. The predominant share of military assistance is money spent inside the United States on production and the replenishment of arsenals. CSIS analysts have calculated that about 90% of the military component is spent in the U.S. (on producing new systems or replacing those transferred), and overall roughly 60% of all funds in Ukraine packages remain in the American economy—factories, logistics, jobs. The official oversight portal shows that tens of billions go specifically to replenishing Pentagon stockpiles—something that directly strengthens the defense capability of the United States itself. This is a key message for a conservative audience: aid to Ukraine = an investment in the American defense industry and in deterring enemies.
In addition, international burden-sharing is already happening. Europe has ramped up support to such an extent that, according to the Kiel Institute tracker, this year, for the first time since 2022, cumulative European military commitments have exceeded American ones. This does not absolve Washington of leadership, but it does dispel the myth of the United States “paying for everyone.” American assistance is more of a coalition catalyst that makes European money and production more effective.
Support for Ukraine is an element of America’s “outer perimeter of security,” which is cheaper than a direct clash with Russia or the loss of allies’ trust. When Ukraine holds the line, Putin’s appetite for escalation against NATO shrinks. When Russia pays a high price for aggression, Beijing receives a vivid lesson regarding Taiwan. Influential research centers stress that only military setbacks for Russia on the battlefield will force the Kremlin to lower its demands, and that Moscow’s willingness to make compromises at the negotiating table depends on the steadiness of Western aid. This is a direct saving of American blood and money in the longer term.
A majority in Congress—on both sides of the aisle—has repeatedly voted for aid. Yes, within the Republican Party there is a real and loud minority that opposes it, but that is not equivalent to the claim that Republicans are against Ukraine. On the contrary, it was Republican Speaker Mike Johnson who in 2024 brought the vote to the floor despite resistance from the right flank—something that is telling about the intraparty balance. In the Senate, nearly 80 votes “in favor” is a sign not of a country split down the middle, but of consensus at the institutional level.
As for Greene as an icon of the anti-Ukrainian wing, her phenomenon is a story of media magnification, not of any real change in America’s course. She continues to rack up millions of views on social networks, to pick up conspiracy theories, and to disseminate inaccurate material, as in the case of the Kyiv protests. But there is another side beyond the airwaves: when Greene’s attempts to strike every dollar for Ukraine are put to a vote, they suffer crushing defeats. In other words, at the policy level her line loses, even if in news feeds it seems dominant.
Does all this mean that Ukrainians should ignore “anti-Ukrainian” voices in America? No. On the contrary, they should be carefully broken down into arguments and answered on the merits, without moralizing. When people say “this money would be better spent at home,” reply with facts about domestic investments in the production of munitions and air defense in the U.S., about jobs in the rocket-and-artillery supply chain, about how replenishing stockpiles is America’s defense for tomorrow. When they say “let Europe pay,” show how Germany, the Nordic countries, and Britain have scaled up support and how the U.S. uses leverage to synchronize efforts. When they say “we need peace at any price,” show what the Kremlin actually demands, and why “freezing” without Russian defeats at the front does not solve the problem but postpones it at the cost of higher risks.
There is also a domestic American aspect that Ukraine and its friends sometimes underestimate. The anti-corruption agenda is not a concession to the West but a fundamental condition for maintaining support. The episode with the ill-fated amendments to anti-corruption laws and the quick rollback after protests became a new pretext for skeptics in the U.S.: “Look, they’re not reforming.” Therefore, transparency, audit, and sensible communication are not “for show,” but also for the American voter, who wants to see in a 30-second clip a simple logic: “we are helping those who fight and who change.” When this logic works, both the polling and the agenda in Congress change.
Americans do not dislike Ukrainians. In the United States there is a fierce competition of narratives about the country’s role in the world. At one pole are supporters of deterring aggressors, an alliance of democracies, and America’s industrial renewal through defense investment; at the other is a coalition of fatigue, distrust of Washington, isolationist instinct, and media cynics who play on irritation. Ukraine has become a symbol in this internal dispute: for some, proof that the United States can stop an aggressor without deploying its own troops; for others, a symbol of an endless overseas project that supposedly distracts from real problems.
What should Ukraine do in this reality? First, speak the language of U.S. interests. Explain how Ukraine’s defense reduces the risk of a major war in Europe, teaches the United States lessons for deterring China, and compels allies to spend more. This is not about “love us,” it is about “this is entirely pragmatically beneficial to you.” Second, do not shy away from specifics: the names of states where production lines for shells and air defense are opening; contract figures; logistics maps. Third, do not be afraid to acknowledge problems and to demonstrate how Ukraine is fixing them—from digital procurement to energy and the defense industry. Fourth, build networks within the conservative spectrum—veterans, industrialists, religious leaders, local politicians—with an argument of security and order, and not only values (though they, too, matter).
Finally, do not allow flare-ups like Greene’s to hijack the focus. Yes, she is a media heavyweight: her statements about genocide in Gaza, her spats with conservative commentators, her anti-Ukrainian posts—this is a combustible mix for headlines. But in the dry residue it is the votes in Congress, the budget lines, the defense-industry contracts, the coalition of allies, and a weary yet still resilient American consensus that punishing aggression is in the interest of the United States. These—and not the X feed—are what determine policy. And these are what the Ukrainian strategy should rest upon.
So I propose asking a new question: “how do we translate Ukraine’s struggle into the language of U.S. interests and security so that it is heard in Ohio and Iowa, in the office of a Republican senator and in the home of a union activist?” When this translation works, even the loudest labels lose to numbers and facts, and an awareness emerges that support for Ukraine is effectively an insurance policy against a bigger, more expensive war tomorrow. And that is a language Americans understand very well.
About Author:
