Groundhog Year or Double Game? Some conclusions on Trump's Ukrainian peacemaking efforts

Exactly one year ago, Donald Trump, who had promised to end the war in Ukraine even before his inauguration, entered the White House. The twelve months that followed have included six recurring and rather monotonous episodes, in which he has alternated between hopes for a quick deal with the Kremlin and disappointment in Putin, threatening him with new sanctions.

At the same time, the cessation of American aid to Ukraine not only failed to bring peace closer, but rather acted as an incentive for continued military operations, shifting the balance of power in Moscow's favour. In effect, the Kremlin was given a year to compensate for its failures in the war of attrition over the previous three years.

Paradoxically, by the start of Trump's second year in office, Moscow and Washington were both targeting their common enemy – Europe – pursuing largely different objectives but creating the effect of bilateral pressure. While Putin threatens Europe with hybrid warfare and even direct military confrontation, the conflict with Trump raises the prospect of a US withdrawal from NATO and the weakening of American support. Whether this situation is the result of deliberate or unintentional coordination, it increases the chances of Moscow and Washington achieving their goals.

Groundhog Day

During his election campaign, Donald Trump said 53 times that he would end the military conflict in Ukraine in one day, or at least before he entered the Oval Office, according to CNN (of these, only five referred to the more well-known claim of a one-day resolution, while 48 concerned completion before his inauguration). In any case, Trump entered the Oval Office exactly one year ago, after his inauguration on 20 January. Yet the prospect of ending the war remains as uncertain today as it did then. Trump and members of his administration periodically find reasons for optimism and propose new initiatives (the most recent clumsy example being the creation of a ‘peace council’ on Ukraine with Russia's participation), while the war continues.

Over the course of the year, the same scenario repeated six times. Each cycle began with Steve Witkoff’s visit to Moscow or an unexpected phone call between Trump and Vladimir Putin (in one case, a public address by Putin), filling Trump with renewed hopes for a quick deal. This was followed by consultations with Ukraine or pressure on it, consultations with Moscow, and then the realisation that the Kremlin was unwilling to abandon its maximalist demands: Ukraine must cede territories not yet conquered by Russia, limit its sovereignty by committing not to join military alliances, and accept restrictions on its armed forces, leaving it defenceless against the next Russian invasion. When negotiations reached an impasse, Trump publicly expressed doubt about Putin’s commitment to peace, which he seemed to believe in alone, and threatened Moscow with new sanctions. Yet just as his anger reached its peak and the world awaited decisive action, Witkoff would unexpectedly appear in Moscow again, or Putin would call Trump. Once more, Trump would renew his optimism and confidence in an imminent deal.

The first such cycle began on 11 February 2025, when Witkoff suddenly visited Moscow. This was followed by negotiations in Riyadh and Jeddah, another visit by Witkoff to Russia, and Putin’s refusal of a 30-day truce. Trump’s threats to the Kremlin were first made on the 7th and reached their peak on 30 March. The world waited in anticipation, but by 10 April Witkoff was again in Moscow. This time, the peace plan envisaged partial recognition of the results of the Russian occupation, Ukraine’s renunciation of NATO membership, and the lifting of sanctions on Russia. 'I hope Russia and Ukraine will make a deal this week,' Trump wrote on 20 April. Yet within days, Russia rejected the final version of the American plan.

The world again waited for decisive action from Trump, but on 10 May Putin announced he was ready for serious negotiations. Like an impassioned youth, Trump was once more filled with hope and spent three days waiting to see whether Putin would come to Istanbul, ready to rush there himself. 'The spirit and substance of talks with Putin were ‘excellent’, and Russia intends to conduct ‘substantial TRADE’ with the United States after the conflict is resolved,' Trump reported on his blog, in the third surge of enthusiasm in three months. Yet two weeks later he was forced to set a two-week deadline for a response from the Kremlin, stating, ‘We will find out in two weeks whether he is serious or not’.

The summer passed in a solitary dance of deadlines, which Trump set, cancelled, and postponed himself. He had completely forgotten the deadline announced on 28 May, but on 14 July, 45 days after the previous one, he set a 50-day deadline, threatening Russia this time with '100% tariffs'. Two weeks later, Trump reduced it to 10 days. Yet before that period ended, Witkoff was again in Moscow, and Trump shocked allies with news of upcoming talks with Putin in Anchorage.

Despite the red carpet, the talks in Alaska ended in embarrassment: three hours ahead of schedule, with the final press conference cancelled. Trying to explain the lack of results, representatives from the American administration hinted that the red carpet event was caused by Witkoff’s mistake, as he had allegedly misinterpreted instructions in Moscow and relied too heavily on a local translator.

Trump remained silent for a month, and in the last ten days of September he launched a stream of verbal attacks on Putin, calling him a ‘paper tiger’ and suggesting that Ukraine would be able to regain the territories occupied by Russia. In early October, he threatened Kyiv with Tomahawk missile deliveries. Yet his burst of resolve and anger was cut short just as suddenly after a call from Putin on 16 October, which completely reversed his mood. Trump cancelled the 'Tomahawks' and announced an imminent meeting with Putin in Budapest to conclude a 'deal'. However, just days later, following discussions between Marco Rubio and Sergey Lavrov, it became clear that Russia’s position had not changed, and the meeting was cancelled. Possibly this time the translators had misled Trump himself. Following this, he finally imposed sanctions against Rosneft and Lukoil. Trump's fifth cycle of fascination was the shortest, but he did not return to the topic of ‘tomahawks’ again.

The next pause lasted almost a month and ended with the Axios publishing a new ‘peace plan’, developed mainly by Russian envoy Kirill Dmitriev. Despite its openly pro-Kremlin nature, Trump instructed Zelensky to finalise the plan by Thanksgiving (within five days). In practice, however, the Russian and American delegations discussed it until the New Year, over five weeks, coinciding with the height of the Russian offensive in Donbas. As the discussions progressed, it became increasingly clear that Moscow would not accept the plan in this form.

What is remarkable is not that the negotiations faltered, which happens, but that each time Trump became so deeply convinced of their imminent success, while analysts and observers saw no grounds for optimism and were repeatedly proven correct. Critics joke that for each new round of talks, Trump simply forgets the course and outcome of the previous ones.

Good cop, bad cop

Returning to Trump’s campaign promise, it must be acknowledged that it was fulfilled half-way. The promise had two components, of which only the second is widely remembered due to its populist absurdity. In reality, Trump expressed a firm intention to stop spending American money on support for Ukraine and, to assure that this would not lead to catastrophic consequences, claimed he could end the war quickly without it.

He fulfilled the first part of the promise immediately, which is remarkable in itself. Trump’s own theory suggests that negotiations should begin with the 'stick', frightening the counterparty before moving to bargaining and revealing the hidden 'carrot'. This was the approach implied in Keith Kellogg's plan, which was apparently approved by Trump: Washington continues to supply weapons to Kyiv if it agrees to negotiate, threatening to increase them, including long-range missiles, while promising Russia a gradual lifting of sanctions and trade cooperation in the event of a compromise. Instead, transactional Trump started by throwing away his 'stick'.

Ending American aid to Kyiv not only failed to bring the conflict closer to resolution but undeniably encouraged its continuation. Putin, who had failed to defeat a weaker Ukraine in a war of attrition over three years, was given a clear opportunity for revenge when the opponent’s resources were undermined by Trump’s decision, and Ukraine’s leadership came under pressure from Washington to make concessions. From the Ukrainian perspective, the roles of Putin and Trump resemble a classic 'good cop, bad cop' scenario. Trump urges Zelensky to meet Putin’s demands, offering trivial incentives such as a deal on rare metals Ukraine does not possess, while Putin threatens to crush Ukrainian defences by force.

Trump's repeated cycles of hope, disappointment and threats, followed by renewed optimism and setbacks, ultimately gave Putin what he needed: time to wear down Ukrainian defences. Whether this was the result of deliberate intention on Trump’s part or the memory lapses common to his age, his promise to end the war in one day has turned into a year-long 'Groundhog Day', during which Putin enjoyed the most favourable conditions for exerting military pressure on Kyiv.

It is worth noting, however, that over the course of this year, Trump’s attention was not solely on Ukraine. While Putin advanced in Donbas, Trump made peace in the Middle East, clashed with Iran, and captured Nicolás Maduro. In other words, he achieved his own objectives where Putin could theoretically have obstructed him, but in reality did not, just as Trump did not impede Putin’s attempts to press the Ukrainian front. These are the factual outcomes of the 'peace process'.

The plunder of Europe: the enemy of my enemy

The interests of Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump intersect curiously in another area. Beyond their primary adversaries – Ukraine on the one hand, Iran and Venezuela on the other – they share a common antagonist: contemporary Europe. Over the course of the year, tensions between both Moscow and Washington and Europe increased steadily.

By cutting off aid to Ukraine, Trump has shifted this burden to Europe, which now single-handedly provides Kyiv with the resources necessary to prevent Moscow from achieving a military victory. This burden exacerbates European instability and strengthens the influence of right-wing populists, whose successes enjoy active support in both Moscow and Washington.

The anti-European convergence of interests between Moscow and Washington was most clearly demonstrated in the episode concerning frozen Russian assets. While European leaders sought to use these funds to support Ukraine, Moscow and Washington launched concerted efforts through their own channels to thwart these plans (→ Re:Russia: Scramble for Assets). It emerged that a plan to divide the frozen Russian assets had been agreed between Moscow and Washington as early as the summer. Under this plan, following their unfreezing, $100 billion would come under US control and be invested in Ukraine’s economy, while the remainder would return to Russia, where it would very likely be channelled into expanding the Kremlin’s military capabilities directed against Europe.

Viewed from a broader perspective, however, the aspirations and actions of Moscow and Washington reveal a more comprehensive picture. Over the course of the year, Europe effectively found itself caught in a pincer. From the east, the Kremlin threatened hybrid warfare, potential direct confrontation, and even nuclear escalation, while from the west the White House hinted at a possible withdrawal from NATO and a reduction of its military presence on the continent. The combination of these two threats caused panic in European capitals. Fully aware of the US betrayal, Europe, caught between two fires, was forced to flatter Trump and exert effort to prevent him from acting on these intentions, thereby avoiding extreme vulnerability in the face of a potential Russian military provocation.

Putin and Trump have different interests and demands regarding Europe. The Kremlin seeks a Ukraine abandoned to its fate and militarily defeated. Trump seeks a Nobel Peace Prize, a correction of trade deficits, and, as events have shown, Greenland as a bonus. Over the course of this year, neither party possessed sufficient power to compel Europe to yield on these issues on its own. Yet the dual threat of attack from the east combined with the simultaneous weakening of European defence from the west arguably has the greatest effect in undermining Europe’s capacity for resistance, its resolve, and its self-confidence, creating conditions conducive to achieving all these goals, or at least some of them.

Throughout the year, analysts and commentators offered various interpretations of Trump’s strategy in relation to the Kremlin, ranging from conspiratorial to rational and geopolitical. The most widely held interpretation within the second group suggests that, in the context of the primary strategic objective of containing China, Trump seeks to draw Putin to his side, tempting Moscow with broad economic cooperation and weakening or severing its alliance with Beijing. A related hypothesis proposes that Trump lacks leverage over Putin but aims to avoid direct confrontation with Russia, which could weaken the United States in competition with, or in a potential conflict against, China. Another common explanation focuses on the ideological affinity between Putin and Trump, particularly their anti-liberal view of the world and understanding of the international order as a system of agreements among great powers or 'big players'. Yet another interpretation sees the inconsistencies in the Trump administration’s approach to the Russo-Ukrainian conflict as the result of competing factions around the president – traditional Republicans committed to containing Russia (Rubio, Kellogg), MAGA isolationists (Vance), and business transactionists (Witkoff, Kushner).

Most likely, all or most of these interpretations capture certain aspects of the ideological context influencing tactical decision-making. Yet when assessing the year’s outcomes, it is more useful to focus on the facts. The cessation of American aid to Ukraine weakened its position and created substantial challenges for Europe. At the same time, Trump possessed neither the transactional skill nor special relationship with Putin necessary to halt the conflict given the altered balance of power he himself had created. The repeated episodes of 'breakthroughs' and hopes for a rapid deal now appear less as genuine negotiation and more as a performative process, serving as a smokescreen that conceals the operational space and time Putin gained to pressure Ukraine. Simultaneously, the peculiar 'non-aggression pact' between Moscow and Washington has created more favourable conditions for both to achieve their separate, non-overlapping objectives. Today, Europe remains the main obstacle to these ambitions for a variety of reasons.