In mid-August 2025, high-stakes talks are set to take place in the U.S. state of Alaska, drawing global attention. U.S. President Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin will meet on American soil at the location geographically closest to Russia. For Washington, it is a symbol of a "neutral ground" within its own borders; for Moscow, a reminder of the geographic proximity that will always shape relations between the two powers.
News of the summit emerged after the visit to Moscow by American businessman and Trump special envoy Steven Witkoff. His three-hour meeting with Putin concluded with confirmation of the date—August 15. Officially, the main agenda item is Russia’s war against Ukraine and the search for a path to end it. Trump has already said he does not rule out "territorial compromises" as part of a future settlement, without specifying what exactly he means. The vague wording has sparked lively debate: Moscow has so far kept silent on the details, limiting itself to talk of a "readiness for serious dialogue," while Kyiv has made it clear that any talks excluding Ukraine are meaningless.
Volodymyr Zelensky continues to insist that Ukraine will not cede its land. Yet unlike in the early years of the war, when the official position was firmly set on fully restoring control over all occupied territories, including Crimea, Kyiv’s concrete plan today remains unclear. Officially, Ukraine demands an immediate ceasefire and the start of negotiations, but without a clear outline of which conditions will be put forward and in what sequence. Unsurprisingly, Moscow—holding the initiative on the battlefield—rejects such an arrangement.
Militarily, Ukraine remains capable of defending itself and carrying out targeted strikes on key objectives, but its ability to mount large-scale offensives is constrained by shortages of weaponry, air defenses, and trained personnel. The approach to mobilization is causing public discontent, while the economy is sustained by external financial aid. This dependence has become existential: any slowdown in deliveries or reduction in support is felt immediately on the front lines.
At the same time, another challenge is growing—from within. Corruption scandals involving figures in the president’s inner circle have become the subject of European and American media coverage. From inflated prices in defense procurement to attempts to curb the independence of anti-corruption bodies, these cases undermine confidence in Ukraine’s leadership and offer additional arguments to those in Western parliaments who are already skeptical about continuing large-scale support.
Against this backdrop, it appears that Ukraine’s leadership, while invoking the formula “Ukrainians do not want to trade land for peace,” is in practice intent on continuing the war in its current form—gradually losing people, territory, and infrastructure. Such a strategy may stem from a desire to avoid difficult political decisions or from fear of the domestic consequences of possible concessions. But the cost of this choice is evident: the longer the current trajectory persists, the harder it will be for the country to recover once a diplomatic opening does emerge.
Advocates of fighting on until complete victory argue that any agreement with Moscow is doomed, as Russia has repeatedly violated its own commitments. This is a weighty point, but it does not remove the need to seek arrangements that could end hostilities without forfeiting the ability to defend the country. The central question is not whether the Kremlin can be trusted, but whether a system of guarantees can be built that would make renewed external aggression prohibitively risky and costly for Moscow.
Such a system should include strict international mechanisms: the automatic reimposition of sanctions if terms are breached, the presence of international observers along the line of contact, long-term programs for arming and modernizing Ukraine’s military, and firmly codified support from key allies. These measures must be accompanied by domestic reforms: bolstering the independence of anti-corruption bodies, ensuring transparent defense procurement, renewing political institutions, and holding elections that will give a new government a fresh mandate.
In this sense, it is domestic strengthening that can become the most powerful deterrent to any external aggression. When a state demonstrates the ability to manage resources effectively, keep corruption in check, and maintain a high level of defense readiness, the temptation to attack diminishes, while the cost of doing so rises.
The upcoming meeting in Alaska is unlikely to produce a ready-made peace agreement. But it could help define the parameters of future negotiations that will shape the war’s trajectory. For Ukraine, it is crucial that any diplomatic pause—should one occur—be used not as a prelude to the next phase of conflict, but as an opportunity to strengthen the state, its military, and its institutions. Otherwise, the risk of remaining trapped in a protracted war of slow attrition is too great to ignore.