In the grand Constantine Palace outside St. Petersburg on Wednesday, Steve Witkoff thanked Vladimir Putin for freeing Stephen Hubbard, a 74-year-old retired schoolteacher from Michigan who had spent four years in Russian detention. “You talk so much about my president, President Trump, being a humanitarian. You are a humanitarian also, sir, and I salute that,” President Donald Trump’s envoy told him. The video traveled faster than Hubbard’s plane.

“Humanitarian” is a generous word for a man the International Criminal Court has wanted since 2023 for the unlawful deportation of Ukrainian children — not to mention a brutal war launched against Ukraine that has killed up to 600,000, and countless allegations of torture, authoritarianism and cruelty by Putin’s government. In Moscow, that deportation was billed as humanitarian, too. The poor children could not stay in a war zone, the Kremlin claimed, so Russia took them.

“Humanitarian” is a generous word for a man the International Criminal Court has wanted since 2023 for the unlawful deportation of Ukrainian children.

Kyiv counts them in the tens of thousands. How many there really are, and how they are being treated, is hard to verify. According to Ukrainian sources, a few thousand have been returned home. But the formula never changes: What Ukraine and the West call theft, the Kremlin calls rescue. Nobody uses the word “humanitarian” as freely as the people who create the need for it.

The Hubbard story is not a simple one. He had reportedly lived in Ukraine since 2014. After the 2022 invasion, he joined a territorial defense unit in Izium, and Russian forces captured him within months. In 2024, a Russian court gave him almost seven years as a “mercenary.” Washington declared him wrongfully detained. His own relatives had said he held pro-Russian views and was too old to fight. But war is war, and an allegedly pro-Russian pensioner ended up as an enemy combatant.

George Kennan, the great American diplomat who was my mentor at Princeton in the 1990s, taught me to judge a country’s politics from its own point of view, not the one we would like it to have. From Moscow, a foreigner in a Ukrainian unit is an enemy. In Joseph Stalin’s time, he would not have been pardoned, but shot. By the Kremlin’s own standards, letting him go is a real gesture — so it is worth asking what it bought.

Trump says there was “no swap.” True, no one was released in exchange for Hubbard. But five days earlier, the White House waived new Russia sanctions. Trump himself said Hubbard would not be free otherwise. So it was not a swap. It was a down payment.

Witkoff is a real estate man, and a skilled one. He knows to tell the client what the client wants to hear. Since his first visits in 2025, hand pressed to his heart, he has understood how Putin likes to see himself. And Putin very much wants to be seen as something other than what he is.

Witkoff, of all people, must have appreciated the setting. Peter the Great began the Constantine Palace in 1720 and never finished it, and by 1945, only its walls were standing. In 2001, Putin had it rebuilt as his presidential residence, gilded in time for the city’s 300th birthday. As flips go, it is hard to beat. Western leaders once came to admire it, too, at the G8 in 2006 and the G20 in 2013. Six months later, Russia annexed Crimea — the opening act of the current war — and most of them stopped coming.

Last month, Alexander Lukashenko said he and Putin often argue over which of them is the bigger dictator. For Lukashenko, who runs Belarus like the collective farm he once managed, it is an earthy joke he enjoys. For Putin, it is an insult. He sees himself as a benevolent KGB major, even a democrat. Russia holds elections, he likes to remind everyone, while Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, whose official term ran out in 2024, postponed his because of the war. That Russian elections are staged does not matter. They are proof of good character.

Putin’s well-known deepest conviction is that he would be gentler — if only the circumstances allowed. According to his own rhetoric, he believes he is fighting not just Ukraine but the whole West, which has spent years turning up its war rhetoric. Europe now warns that Russia may turn on it next. In the Kremlin, this reads as a story for tired taxpayers about why Ukraine needs their money. So, Putin has no choice but to be tough. And a man forced into harshness is grateful when someone notices his soft side.

Yet Putin is less original than both his admirers and his enemies think. Nearly every Kremlin occupant, tsarist or Soviet, has said the same thing: I would be different, but the people and the times are not right. In the 16th century, the Habsburg envoy Sigismund von Herberstein, watching Muscovite rule, wondered whether a brutal people made their prince a tyrant, or the tyrant made the people brutal.

Witkoff found the soft spot and pressed it. That is what good negotiators do.

A century later, the story goes, a European diplomat rode into the capital of Moldavia past rows of rebels impaled on stakes. On arrival, he reproached the country’s ruler for such cruelty. “It’s easy for you to govern your people,” the prince replied. “Try governing mine.”

In Russia, the line is usually credited to Ivan the Terrible or Peter the Great. The mix-up is telling: In Moscow, it has always sounded like something a tsar would say. Kremlin rulers have preferred that answer ever since.

So Witkoff found the soft spot and pressed it. That is what good negotiators do. But Putin is not a typical client. He took the sanctions relief, the praise and the photo opportunity, and gave back one sick 74-year-old man. As deals go, it was a truly humanitarian gesture — if you ask the Kremlin.

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