Is it possible to broker a peace agreement between Russia and Ukraine? There have been doubters and skeptics on this question from the moment the first round of diplomacy occurred a few weeks after Moscow’s February 2022 invasion. The general consensus in Washington’s think tank circuit and Europe’s halls of power is that Russian President Vladimir Putin is simply too thick-headed, greedy, and intransigent to talk to. The only figure of major consequence who thought a settlement could be achieved was Donald Trump—and even his optimism, on the campaign trail and then in office, was predicated less on the ability of the combatants to strike an honorable peace and more on his supposed magical powers of persuasion.
But even President Trump is getting discouraged these days. Objectively speaking, the Trump administration’s first three months of shuttle diplomacy has been a wash. This hasn’t been for a lack of trying. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, peace envoy Steve Witkoff, and Ukraine envoy Keith Kellogg have done an extensive amount of traveling during this time—Witkoff has reportedly met with Putin four times. Meanwhile, Trump has browbeaten Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky into participating in the U.S.-mediated process (something Trump’s predecessor, Joe Biden, refused to do) and the administration has even put a draft peace deal on the table for discussion. Trump has taken a lot of heat for his diplomacy-first approach, particularly from those perfectly comfortable with having Zelensky dictate U.S. policy on the war.
But for those of us who supported diplomacy from the start, we must admit that the trend line isn’t good. Sure, this week Ukrainian and Russian officials met in Turkey for the first time in more than three years at Trump’s urging. Yes, this in and of itself is an accomplishment of sorts. But getting to this meeting was riddled with so much gamesmanship by the two sides, with Zelensky daring Putin to fly to Turkey and Putin responding by sending two lower-level Russian negotiators instead, that one wonders if either leader is capable of going beyond histrionics. As Rubio said before the May 16 session took place, the odds of success were slim: “I don’t think anything productive is actually going to happen from this point forward, until [Trump and Putin] engage in a very frank and direct conversation, which I know President Trump is willing to do.”
The meeting, which lasted about one hour and 40 minutes, didn’t produce any bombshells. But it would be a mistake to assume bombshells were in the offing anyway. While a prisoner exchange was agreed to, there wasn’t progress on the real matter at hand: getting to a deal. The Russians reportedly submitted hardline demands to the Ukrainians, including a full withdrawal from the parts of Ukraine Putin annexed in 2022. The topic of a ceasefire was broached, yet not settled.
At this point one wonders if Trump should spend any more of his valuable time on striking a deal to end the war. Withdrawing from Russia-Ukraine diplomacy wouldn’t be a sign of defeatism but rather a reflection of reality. Mediators can do plenty during peace negotiations, like bringing the warring parties into the same room, shuttling proposals back-and-forth, and leaning on one side or the other (or both) to bring an agreement to fruition. This is what Jimmy Carter did during the 1977-1978 Israel-Egypt peace negotiations, what Richard Holbrooke did at Dayton in 1995 to end the war in Bosnia, and what President Bill Clinton tried to do with Israeli prime minister Ehud Barak and Palestinian Liberation Organization chairman Yasser Arafat during the closing months of his presidency.
But ultimately the talent of the mediator isn’t the most important variable in conflict diplomacy. Rather, the willingness of the parties themselves to break from maximalism and permit the other side a graceful off-ramp is usually the difference between success or failure. Clinton couldn’t get an Israeli-Palestinian peace deal across the finish line because Barak and Arafat were too divided on the big questions, such as what the borders of a future Palestinian state would be, how Jerusalem would be divided up, and how the Israeli settlements would be dealt with. Compromise, the one ingredient required to close, was too high a bar.
The Ukraine-Russia talks aren’t dead in the water like the Israeli-Palestinian peace process was (and still is). But evidence for an imminent breakthrough just isn’t there. When the Trump administration finally got Ukraine to support a 30-day ceasefire arrangement in March, the Russians shrugged the proposal off. When the Trump administration convinced Kiev to sign onto a 30-day ceasefire in the Black Sea weeks later, Moscow linked its participation to U.S. and European sanctions relief. And when Putin declared unilateral, short-term ceasefires to mark important dates on the Russian calendar, Zelensky viewed it all as a public relations gambit by the Kremlin to persuade Trump that it was Moscow, not Kiev, who most wanted peace.
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Zelensky and Putin both claim they endorse an end to the three-year-long war. The problem, as always, is that the two leaders aren’t working on the same paradigm—indeed, they are operating in separate universes. Originally, Zelensky demanded an immediate 30-day truce before authorizing direct talks with Putin, only to change his approach after Trump, to the surprise of Kiev’s European allies, called for direct talks right away. That solved one problem but created another: what to actually talk about? The Russians want to get to work on a comprehensive solution; the Ukrainians want to talk about nothing at this point other than getting a ceasefire.
None of this even accounts for the chasm between what Ukraine wants in a hypothetical settlement and what Russia considers acceptable. Putin, despite suffering hundreds of thousands of casualties over the last 16 months for an area smaller than the size of Delaware, is still harping on his original terms: formalizing his annexation of five Ukrainian regions, curtailing the size and capability of the Ukrainian armed forces, and dictating Kiev’s foreign policy. The Ukrainians remain dead set against any of this, and the loss in men and materiel over the last three years don’t seem to be having an appreciable effect on what they are—and aren’t—willing to live with.
All of which is to say that Trump’s declining optimism is indicative of where the war is at this stage. If progress continues to elude, the White House could hardly be blamed if it threw up its hands, quit the peace process, and consoled itself that no stone was left unturned.
