Though this week’s White House meeting between Donald Trump, Volodymyr Zelensky and a bunch of European leaders yielded no tangible outcomes, it nonetheless marked an important step towards peace in Ukraine. For the first time, the Ukrainian leader and his counterparts in Europe agreed to discuss the war on the basis of realities on the ground, rather than wishful thinking. Up until just a few months ago, Kyiv’s accession to Nato was regarded as non-negotiable by European diplomacy and Nato. Now, not only does that prospect appear to have been definitively set aside, but for the first time the discussion has shifted from Ukraine’s “territorial integrity” to potential “territorial concessions”.
Monday’s summit earned Trump praise even from usually critical mainstream outlets. “It was the best day Ukraine has had in a very long time… President Donald Trump offered tantalizing glimpses of how he could approach presidential greatness by saving Ukraine, securing Europe and genuinely deserving the Nobel Peace Prize,” CNN enthused. Yet the meeting would not have occurred had it not been for Trump’s summit with Putin in Anchorage, Alaska, just two days earlier — which instead drew near unanimous criticism from Ukraine supporters for “legitimising” Putin. But this carefully staged “de-demonisation” of Putin injected a much-needed dose of realism and pragmatism into the discussion.
The Alaska meeting formally reestablished direct dialogue between the world’s two largest military and nuclear powers. It marked the first face-to-face meeting between a US and Russian president since the outbreak of the war in Ukraine, and the first such encounter on American soil in nearly two decades. It also marked a turning point in US-Russia relations which, since 2022, had reached levels of hostility not seen since the Cold War.
The symbolism was carefully staged: from the red-carpet reception and the ceremonial ride in the American presidential limousine to Trump’s informal reference to “Vladimir”. It was all intended to signal a new chapter in US-Russia relations. But for Moscow, it meant even more. The summit was a political victory. The sight of Trump hosting Putin exposed the failure of the Western strategy of “isolating Russia” and “crippling its economy”. Far from being marginalised, Russia has emerged stronger: it has deepened its strategic relationship with China, expanded its influence among Global South states, and weathered the sanctions regime that was supposed to destroy its economy. Simply by shaking Putin’s hand, Trump acknowledged that Russia remains a power to be reckoned with, not a pariah state.
More importantly, the summit amounted to an indirect acknowledgment that the West has effectively lost this war. Ukrainian forces cannot retake the territories annexed by Russia. On the contrary, Moscow continues to make incremental advances on the battlefield. This reality makes a negotiated settlement the only possible exit from the conflict — one that would necessarily involve territorial concessions: Crimea, plus the four annexed eastern and southern oblasts.
This perhaps explains why Trump quietly backtracked on the various threats he has leveraged at Russia over the past weeks. In July, he announced a 50-day deadline for Russia to halt the war or face “severe economic consequences”. Putin ignored it. Trump shortened the deadline to 12 days. Putin did not respond. Even on the eve of the Alaskan summit, Trump was still insisting on a ceasefire as a minimum outcome. Yet Putin had been clear: Russia has no interest in a ceasefire that would allow Ukraine to rearm and bolster its defences with Western support.
Moreover, Moscow’s demands have always extended well beyond the question of territorial recognition, seeking a comprehensive settlement that addresses the “primary roots of the conflict”, as he repeated in Anchorage: that Ukraine will never join Nato, that the West will not transform it into a de facto military outpost on Russia’s border, and that a broader “balance of security in Europe” be restored. As even the hawkish New York Times recently acknowledged: “The Russian leader’s overarching goal is primarily to secure a peace deal that achieves his geopolitical aims — and not necessarily to conquer a certain amount of territory on the battlefield.”
In an effort to strong-arm Putin, Trump also threatened to impose secondary sanctions on purchasers of Russian oil — including China and India. Yet both countries swiftly dismissed the threat, making it clear such measures would be ineffective. Far from isolating Moscow, the sanctions would only have pushed Beijing and New Delhi even closer to Russia.
After Anchorage, Trump abandoned both of his original positions. He said that a peace deal was preferable to a ceasefire, and that secondary sanctions were off the table. For Putin, this was a major win. For the US, it was an implicit admission that Washington lacks the leverage to impose terms. In Trump’s words, it simply “doesn’t have the cards”. This was a blunt recognition of the diminished military and economic clout of the United States and the collective West.
A comprehensive peace deal, however, remains elusive. No terms were agreed in Alaska, largely because Europe — and Zelensky himself — remain opposed to any settlement on Russian terms. European leaders are so heavily invested in the narrative of “victory” that conceding even part of Russia’s demands would be suicidal. Having spent two years assuring their citizens that Ukraine was winning the war, they cannot suddenly pivot without facing public outrage — especially given the dramatic economic repercussion of the war on European economies.
But the deeper issue is structural: European leaders have come to rely on the spectre of a permanent Russian threat to justify their ongoing erosion of democracy — from expanding online censorship to persecuting dissenting voices, and even cancelling elections, all under the pretext of combating “Russian interference”. Zelensky, too, has reasons to resist peace. Ending the war would mean lifting martial law in Ukraine, exposing his government to pent-up discontent over corruption, repression and the catastrophic handling of the war. Indeed, a recent poll revealed that Ukrainians themselves increasingly favour negotiations over endless fighting. No wonder the Alaska summit triggered panic in European capitals as well as in Kyiv.
Perhaps this explains why Monday’s discussion carefully sidestepped the most sensitive question — territorial concessions — with Zelensky and the Europeans instead pressing for “Article 5-style” security guarantees for Ukraine, effectively treating Ukraine as a Nato member even if it is not formally one. While Russia has signalled general openness to the concept of Western security guarantees, the devil lies in the details. European leaders demanded legally binding US participation and backing — something neither Moscow nor Washington is likely to provide, given the risk of being drawn into direct confrontation with each other. Even less acceptable to Russia is any arrangement involving a Nato military presence in Ukraine, as floated by Britain and France. It seems European leaders have adopted a strategy of expressing openness to a settlement while ensuring, through their conditions, that no such agreement can realistically materialise.
More fundamentally, though, it’s unlikely that Trump himself is prepared to concede to Putin’s demand for a wholesale reconfiguration of the global security order — one that would reduce Nato’s role, end US supremacy, and acknowledge a multipolar world in which other powers can rise without Western interference. For all his rhetoric about ending “forever wars”, Trump continues to embrace a fundamentally supremacist vision of America’s role in the world — albeit a more pragmatic one than that of the liberal-imperialist establishment. His administration continues to support Nato rearmament and even the redeployment of US nuclear weapons along multiple fronts, from the UK to the Pacific. Trump’s policies toward China, Iran and the broader Middle East confirm that Washington still sees itself as an empire whose global dominance must be preserved at all costs — not only through economic pressure, but also through military confrontation when deemed necessary.
Within this framework, Russia remains a central challenge. As a pivotal ally of both China and Iran, it is embedded in the architecture of the emerging multipolar order that threatens US hegemony. For Washington, Moscow is not simply a regional actor but a key node in a broader strategic realignment.
Trump, however, appears willing — at least temporarily — to put the “Russia problem” on hold, focusing instead on the larger confrontation with China. But this indicates a shift in priorities rather than principles: the logic of American supremacy ensures that Russia will remain on the list of adversaries, even if the spotlight briefly shifts elsewhere.
In this sense, Trump would probably be content with a scenario in which the US extricates itself from the Ukrainian debacle while leaving Europe to shoulder the burden a while longer — possibly until conditions on the ground deteriorate so severely that a settlement on Russian terms becomes unavoidable. Indeed, JD Vance and Pete Hegseth said as much, arguing that the US will stop funding the war, but Europe can continue if it wishes — buying American weapons in the process. This “division of labour” would allow Washington to reallocate resources to the coming confrontation with China, while leaving Europeans stuck in an unwinnable war.
The Russians are well aware of all this. They likely harbour no illusions about the real objectives of the US imperial establishment. And they know full well that any deal struck with Trump could be overturned at any moment. However, Putin’s short-term goals align with Trump’s. one could say that Russia and the United States are strategic adversaries whose leaders nonetheless share a tactical interest in cooperation.
Seen in this light, one might postulate that the purpose of the Alaska summit was never to secure a final peace agreement. Both Trump and Putin doubtless understand that such a deal is currently impossible. Rather, the meeting was about allowing the US to step back from Ukraine without admitting defeat, while Russia continues to advance. For Washington, this creates political cover: Trump can claim he tried diplomacy, while offloading the burden of war onto Europe. For Moscow, the advantage lies in Ukraine’s gradual weakening as US logistical support fades. Indeed, in order to encourage an American exit, Russia might even agree to a temporary ceasefire and possibly also to vague US “security guarantees” — with Russia and the US presenting these as significant concessions and victories, respectively — though such a truce is unlikely to hold.
The most likely outcome will be a temporary thaw in US-Russia relations, though the broader geopolitical struggle will go on. And the real losers will be Ukraine and Europe. Ukrainians will continue dying in a war they cannot win, while Europeans will continue to foot the bill. Eventually, they too will be forced to accept a deal on Russian terms — but only after further suffering. Even then, Europe will remain trapped in a hostile and militarised relationship with Russia, with the potential for renewed conflict at any time. At best, the Alaska summit and its aftermath signals a temporary relaxation in an ongoing confrontation between the West and the emerging multipolar order. At worst, it ensures that Europe and Ukraine continue to pay the price for a war that the US has already chosen to leave behind.
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Author: Thomas Fazi
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