Everyone Pretends to Be Seeking Peace

Four months have passed since Donald Trump returned to the White House, and it is now clear: his attempt to impose a peace compromise on Russia and Ukraine has reached a dead end. The only tangible result so far is the physical presence of both delegations in Istanbul. Yet the talks resemble a prelude to renewed escalation more than a meaningful step toward peace.

The core obstacle remains the fundamental gap between the parties’ positions. Trump’s special envoy, Steven Witkoff, spent three months formulating a final U.S. proposal addressed to both Moscow and Kyiv. It was immediately rejected by both sides: the Kremlin deemed it too far from its own vision, while Kyiv and its European allies formally rejected it—something that became clear after the April 17 meeting in Paris. The counterproposals that followed only cemented the rift, and by the end of April, Washington had begun considering a withdrawal from the negotiation process.

From that point on, the initiative shifted to other actors. On May 10, Ukraine—backed by the EU—issued an ultimatum to Russia: agree to an unconditional 30-day ceasefire or face new sanctions. Rather than continuing its offensive, the Kremlin made a surprising move: it announced a three-day truce in honor of May 9 and launched its own diplomatic maneuver, seeking to avoid derailing parallel dialogue with the United States on other issues, including a potential restoration of diplomatic ties and informal business contacts between Trump’s circle and Kirill Dmitriev.

Moscow’s primary goal has become securing a bilateral summit at the highest level. The Kremlin hopes to convince Trump that ending the war is only possible under a change of leadership in Kyiv and a halt to military aid to Ukraine. This approach reflects a deep conviction that no compromise is possible under the current Ukrainian government—and that the Kremlin will not back down from Putin’s demands.

But this was not about fear of new sanctions—on the contrary, Moscow projected confidence by staging a massive May 9 parade attended by leaders from more than thirty countries. The real reason was a desire not to burn bridges in its dialogue with Washington on other key issues.

However, a rapid flurry of diplomatic moves soon upended the entire calculus. Putin publicly invited Ukraine to direct talks in Istanbul; Zelensky responded with a counteroffer—urging Putin to attend in person. Trump, for his part, did not rule out joining the talks himself. In the midst of this growing “Brownian diplomacy,” it has become increasingly unclear who is negotiating with whom—and about what. Read more.

It appears that actual agreements were never the real goal. What mattered was who would be blamed for the failure. Within this logic, the Kremlin reverted to a familiar playbook: resuming the Istanbul talks suspended in April 2022, with the same participants and in a format it had previously proposed.

The paradox of the current moment is that the talks both sides are formally returning to are, in practice, unwanted. Ukraine demands an unconditional and lasting ceasefire and firmly refuses to discuss any territorial concessions or limits on sovereignty with Moscow.

One might think Russia could claim a diplomatic victory—talks have resumed, and the format is one of its own making. But even for Moscow, the current configuration carries risks. The Kremlin is genuinely trying to revive the so-called “Istanbul Plus” package—its original set of demands: demilitarization, “denazification,” a NATO ban, and recognition of annexed territories. Yet Moscow also understands that under the current Ukrainian leadership—or any future government—these terms are unlikely to be accepted, at least as long as the West continues to arm Kyiv.

In the end, everything circles back to the starting point: any real deal will still have to be made with Washington. But now Istanbul lies outside the White House’s sphere of influence. Donald Trump is not participating in the negotiation process, and members of his administration have openly expressed doubts about the viability of the talks.

The current White House appears to lack both the political will and the leverage to compel the parties toward compromise. Kyiv has proven capable of withstanding even substantial pressure from Washington. And while Trump is clearly frustrated by the lack of progress, he is not eager to escalate tensions with Moscow.

The dysfunction was evident on day one, when the delegations couldn’t even sit at the same table. Now the central question is not when the next round of talks will take place, but how soon the participants will leave empty-handed—and how quickly the next phase of escalation will begin. At the very least, the Kremlin is prepared for that scenario—as well as for new sanctions, which are unlikely to alter its calculations.

At the same time, Moscow is unlikely to abandon its dual-track strategy: maintaining pressure on the battlefield while trying to keep Trump from shifting toward open confrontation. By oscillating between strikes and symbolic gestures, the Kremlin will try to preserve the illusion—for Washington—that the door to dialogue remains open.