Russia hates us. I don't know why the president can't see that.
In the waning days of his congressional tenure, Nebraska Republican Don Bacon has chosen candor over comfort, offering a rare internal critique of a party he believes has traded principle for loyalty. Speaking in June 2026, Bacon named the costs plainly: a vulnerable Senate nominee elevated by presidential favor over character, an alliance system quietly corroded by contempt for Europe, and a democracy under nightly bombardment left without a clear American voice. His words carry the particular weight of a man with nothing left to protect — and everything left to say.
- Trump's endorsement has become the only currency that matters in Republican primaries, and Bacon argues the party is paying for it in Texas, where a deeply flawed Ken Paxton replaced a reliable John Cornyn as the nominee.
- At Normandy — where three thousand men died in a single day — the Pentagon chose to invoke the immigration crisis rather than honor the liberation of Europe, and Bacon found the substitution both offensive and revealing.
- The administration criticizes NATO allies relentlessly while never once criticizing Russia, an asymmetry Bacon calls a strategic poison that has cost America the trust of its closest partners.
- Ukraine holds the upper hand militarily, but Russian bombs fall on cities every night, and the House has passed no aid, no policy — because the Speaker whipped against it to stay aligned with a president who will not name Putin as an adversary.
- Bacon's answer is coordination: work with allied nations to build Patriot missile production lines beyond American capacity, transfer anti-ballistic capabilities, and treat the alliance as the asset it still could be — if the will exists to use it.
Don Bacon sat for an interview on a Sunday morning in June, and what came through was the voice of a Republican willing to name what his party's leadership preferred to leave unnamed. Announcing his retirement from the House, the Nebraska congressman had little left to lose — and he spent that freedom carefully.
The conversation opened on Ken Paxton, the Texas Republican nominated for Senate despite impeachment by his own party's House majority, an adultery-cited divorce, and a securities fraud indictment. Trump backed him anyway, and the party followed. Bacon called it a mistake. Trump's endorsement, he acknowledged, now outweighs character in Republican primaries — a reality he stated plainly and seemed to mourn. John Cornyn, the sitting senator, had been a prolific fundraiser who could have won easily. Instead, the party nominated what Bacon described as probably its most vulnerable general-election candidate, forcing expensive defense of a seat that should have been safe.
The Paxton question opened into something larger: the administration's posture toward Europe. At Normandy — where Allied forces died liberating a continent — Secretary of Defense Hegseth had compared the D-Day landings to the current migration crisis, describing boats arriving on European beaches as an "invasion." Bacon had walked Omaha Beach. Three thousand troops had fallen there in a single day. That, he said, was what the site should commemorate.
The deeper problem, Bacon argued, was a pattern: the Pentagon criticized the EU, NATO, and individual allies without restraint, yet never once criticized Russia. That asymmetry, he said, poisoned everything — Ukraine policy, Baltic security, the entire European theater. A Signal message Hegseth sent expressing his loathing of Europe, combined with presidential threats toward Greenland and Canada, had made the message unmistakable. America's allies had noticed, and they had lost trust.
On Ukraine, Bacon had become a largely solitary figure. He had invoked Churchill and Chamberlain on the House floor. Seventeen Republicans joined him. A year and a half into the session, the House had passed no Ukraine aid and taken no votes — because the Speaker had actively lobbied against it to stay aligned with the president. Bacon saw this as democracy abandoned. Russia was bombing Ukrainian cities every night. The United States, he argued, should stand unambiguously with the country defending itself — the democracy, the nation aligned with American values — against a government that had spent decades making clear its hatred of what America represents.
His practical answer was coordination. The United States could not manufacture enough Patriot missiles to meet every commitment — Ukraine, the Middle East, Asia. The solution was to work with allies, assess existing production capacity, and build additional lines together. The capability didn't have to come from America alone. But it required treating the alliance as something worth sustaining — a choice, Bacon suggested, that this administration had not yet made.
Don Bacon sat down for an interview on a Sunday morning in June, and what emerged was a portrait of a Republican willing to say things his party's leadership would rather leave unsaid. The Nebraska congressman, announcing his retirement from the House, had little left to lose—and perhaps that's why he spoke with such directness about the fractures running through his party.
The conversation began with Ken Paxton, the Texas Republican nominated for Senate despite a record that would have sunk most candidates. As Texas attorney general, Paxton had been impeached by his own party's House majority on charges of abuse of office and bribery. His wife was divorcing him, citing adultery. A securities fraud indictment from 2015, though later dropped, still hung in the background. Yet President Trump backed him anyway, and Texas Republicans fell in line. Bacon didn't mince words: it was a mistake. Trump's endorsement, he acknowledged, carries more weight in Republican primaries than character does—a reality he seemed to lament even as he stated it plainly. The cost was concrete. John Cornyn, the sitting senator, had been a prolific fundraiser and kingmaker for Republicans across the country. He could have won easily. Instead, Republicans had nominated what Bacon called probably the most vulnerable candidate in a general election, forcing the party to spend heavily to hold a seat that should have been safe. The irony, Bacon noted, was that the Democratic nominee in Texas was also weak. Both sides had stumbled.
But the Paxton question was really a doorway into something larger: the question of whether Bacon himself could still campaign as a Republican in 2026. He answered by laying out his votes. He supported Ukraine. He opposed tariffs. He supported border security. He supported the administration's general posture toward Iran, which had been waging war against the United States for nearly five decades. He tried, he said, to call balls and strikes regardless of where the president stood.
That independence became the real subject when the conversation turned to Europe and Ukraine. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth had spoken at Normandy the previous Saturday, and his remarks had drawn Bacon's ire. Hegseth had compared the D-Day landings—when Allied forces liberated Europe from Nazi occupation—to the current migration crisis on European shores, describing boats arriving at Spanish, Italian, Greek, and Bulgarian beaches as an "invasion." Bacon had visited Omaha Beach himself. Three thousand troops had died there in a single day. That, he said, was what Normandy should commemorate. Instead, the Pentagon was using it as a platform to criticize Europe.
This criticism of Europe, Bacon argued, reflected a broader and more troubling pattern. The Pentagon under this administration was relentlessly critical of the European Union, of NATO, of the individual countries that made up the alliance. Yet it never criticized Russia. That asymmetry bothered him deeply. It suggested a weakness toward Moscow that poisoned every other policy—toward Ukraine, toward the Baltics, toward the entire European theater. Bacon referenced a Signal message Hegseth had sent to the Vice President in which he expressed his loathing of Europe. Combined with the president's threats toward Greenland and Canada, the message was clear: this administration viewed its closest allies with suspicion and contempt. The cost, Bacon said, was real. America's allies had lost trust.
On Ukraine itself, Bacon had become something of a lonely voice. He had stood on the House floor and invoked Churchill and Chamberlain, declaring this a moment of moral clarity. Seventeen Republicans had joined him. A year and a half into the congressional session, the House had taken no votes on Ukraine aid, passed no policies to support a country fighting for its survival. The Speaker had actively lobbied against the Ukraine vote—whipping against it, in the language of Congress—because the president opposed it. Bacon saw this as a capitulation to Trump at the expense of democracy. Ukraine had the upper hand right now, he acknowledged, but Russia was bombing cities every night. The United States should be unambiguously on the side of the country defending itself, the democracy, the nation aligned with American values. Russia hated the United States. Putin hated what America stood for. Yet the president seemed unable or unwilling to see this.
On the question of Patriot missile production, Bacon was pragmatic. The United States couldn't manufacture enough to meet all its commitments—not for Ukraine, not for the Middle East, not for Asia, where North Korea and China posed their own threats. The solution was to work with allies to establish additional production lines. Ukraine needed these missiles desperately. Bacon would sit down with allied nations, assess what assets existed, and build a plan to transfer anti-ballistic missile technology and capabilities. It couldn't all come from America, but it could come from a coordinated alliance. That was the work ahead.
Citações Notáveis
His endorsement in a primary often carries the most weight. I think it was a mistake.— Rep. Bacon, on Trump's backing of Ken Paxton over John Cornyn
We have to work together to counter Russia, to counter China, to help us in the Middle East, and his constant criticism, along with the President's threats towards Greenland, as well as Canada, has hurt us.— Rep. Bacon, on Pentagon and presidential messaging toward allies
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
You said Trump's endorsement carries more weight than character in primaries. That's a damning thing to say about your own party. Did you expect to say that out loud?
I think it needed to be said. We're living in it. Paxton shouldn't have been the nominee. Cornyn could have won that seat in his sleep. Instead we're spending millions to hold it because the President wanted someone loyal. That's not strategy. That's not even good politics.
But you're retiring. Doesn't that make it easier to say these things?
Yes. Absolutely. I won't pretend otherwise. If I were running for reelection, I'd probably be more careful. But I've been in Congress long enough to know when something is wrong, and I'm not going to pretend it isn't just to stay in office.
The Pentagon's criticism of Europe while staying silent on Russia—that seemed to genuinely anger you.
Because it's backwards. We need Europe. We need NATO. Russia is the threat. When your own Defense Secretary is sending messages about how much he loathes Europe, and your President is threatening Greenland and Canada, you're telling your allies they can't count on you. That's not strength. That's self-sabotage.
You invoked Churchill and Chamberlain on Ukraine. That's a high-stakes moral framing.
It is. But it's accurate. This is a country being invaded by a dictatorship. They're fighting for their survival. We should be unambiguously with them. Instead, the Speaker is whipping votes against Ukraine aid because the President wants to negotiate. You can't negotiate with someone who's bombing your cities every night.
What do you think happens next?
I hope the Senate takes up what we passed. I hope we find a way to get Patriot production ramped up with our allies. But honestly, I'm not optimistic. Not as long as the President sees Europe as the problem and Russia as something to work with.