Three hundred days in search of a silver bullet: why Trump has so far failed to stop the war in Ukraine

After Washington presented its ceasefire plan to Ukraine and Europe, which is already perceived by many as a surrender to Moscow, Russia issued a string of statements signalling a tougher line from the Kremlin and undermining the already publicised 'peace plan.' Late last week, Security Council Secretary Sergei Shoigu revived Russia’s nuclear blackmail rhetoric, threatening the West with unpredictable consequences if European deterrent forces appeared in Ukraine, while Foreign Minister Lavrov first rejected the possibility of joint use of the Zaporizhzhya nuclear power plant under US control and then stated that for a ceasefire, not only the US but all parties must recognise that Russia owns not only Crimea but also other occupied territories of Ukraine. Finally, another hawk from Putin's inner circle, Nikolai Patrushev, said that Russia would not renounce its claims to Odesa, which it considers a Russian city.

Three hundred days of the peace plan

To understand where we currently stand in the negotiation process, it is worth recalling that work on a plan to end the war in Ukraine was initiated by Trump’s team not a hundred, but around three hundred days ago. The first plan by Keith Kellogg and Fred Fleitz was presented to Trump as early as June 2024. Its core idea was that future US military assistance to Kyiv would be conditional on Ukraine’s willingness to enter peace talks with Moscow, while in the event of Russia refusing negotiations, Washington would threaten to increase and expand its military aid to Kyiv. This concept broadly remained Trump’s guiding framework after his election victory and throughout the remainder of 2024, as reflected in Kellogg’s appointment as special envoy for peaceful settlement at the end of November.

However, Trump and his team’s stance on the Ukraine settlement shifted in February 2025. Signs of this change included a phone call between Trump and Putin, Kellogg’s removal from the negotiations, the announcement that Washington intended to negotiate with Moscow without the involvement of Ukraine or European countries, and the first meeting between Kremlin representatives and Trump’s team in Riyadh. It quickly became evident that not only had the foundational plan changed, but so had the very subject of negotiations.

The American side was now represented by Steve Witkoff, while the Russian delegation included Putin’s special envoy for foreign investment, Kirill Dmitriev. These two gentlemen personified a new format of deal between Trump and Putin, in which the Ukraine settlement was seen as both part of and a condition for a broader programme of partnership between Moscow and Washington – the so-called 'grand bargain.' This 'grand bargain' was envisioned as part of a wider US strategy aimed at weakening the Russia–China alliance.

The new negotiation track broadly envisioned a ceasefire agreement between Russia and Ukraine, followed by continued peace talks. In parallel, the US would halt military aid to Kyiv, confirm that Ukraine would not join NATO, and ease sanctions on Russia. Following this, Moscow and Washington would launch discussions on a programme of wide-ranging economic cooperation in areas such as energy, the Arctic, and beyond (→ Re:Russia: Gas Temptation).

The turning point in Trump’s pivot towards Moscow came with a dressing down of Zelensky in the Oval Office on 28 February 2025. Under threat of losing US aid, Kyiv ultimately accepted the US plan for a 30-day ceasefire, without any security guarantees from Washington. However, this plan was rejected by the Kremlin, which claimed that a ceasefire was impossible without first addressing 'nuances' that, according to Russian explanations, were intended to 'eliminate the causes of the conflict.'

In early April, Trump expressed frustration over Moscow’s refusal to sign the ceasefire agreement and its demand for further concessions prior to doing so. He threatened Russia with 'secondary tariffs,' and for the first time in six weeks, Keith Kellogg reappeared in public with harsh words aimed at the Kremlin. Sources reported internal disagreements within Trump’s team, with some advocating a tougher stance toward Moscow. However, instead of applying pressure, Trump once again sent his pro-Russian aide Steve Witkoff – nicknamed 'Mr Yes' – to Russia. His actual mission appeared to be the coordination of the concessions that the Kremlin demanded as conditions for a truce (→ Re:Russia: April Marathon).

Putin's ultimatum instead of Trump's

It appears that this latest shift by Washington, from threats to concessions, was driven by a desire to secure an agreement either by Trump’s one-hundredth day in office or before his trip to Riyadh. In that case, Trump could have met with Vladimir Putin in Riyadh and declared the fulfillment of his peacekeeping mission in Ukraine. Against a backdrop of falling approval ratings in the US (→ Re: Russia: Unpopular populism), a lack of success on other fronts, and numerous scandals engulfing his administration, a ceasefire in Ukraine could have been heralded as a historic achievement, balancing out the wave of criticism timed to coincide with the 100-day mark.

Throughout the second half of April, Trump repeatedly mentioned that he expected a decisive response from Moscow 'in the coming days' or 'next week,' while reiterating his threat that if the parties did not show readiness to compromise, the US might withdraw from the talks.

The Kremlin's toughening rhetoric followed Witkoff’s second trip to Russia in April. Prior to his visit, Bloomberg reported that the US intended to demand that Moscow recognise Ukraine’s right to maintain its own army and defence industry. As a negotiating point, this seemed odd: Ukraine already has both – although still weaker than Russia’s, they are vastly more capable than at the start of the Russian invasion. Much like in a previous episode, when the Kremlin demanded Ukraine surrender territory it hadn’t yet lost as a condition for ceasefire, the new condition became one Putin had failed to secure militarily: the 'demilitarisation of Ukraine.' Such a demand would only be logical in the event of a Russian military victory and the installation of a puppet regime in Kyiv. As it stands, the situation remains far from that.

At the same time, while Trump agreed to halt US military aid to Kyiv, he repeatedly emphasised that he had no objection to Europe continuing its own support. In fact, he encouraged Europe to take on the responsibility of deterring Russia along its eastern borders, allowing the US to focus on the Pacific and containing China.

Putin’s declaration of a unilateral three-day ceasefire, instead of accepting Trump’s ceasefire plan, symbolically demonstrated that he does not see himself as the subject of Trump’s peace efforts but as an independent actor, determined to dictate the terms of war and peace himself. The flurry of harsh statements from the Kremlin, in essence, represents a declared threat of renewed military offensives should its maximalist terms for a ceasefire agreement, which increasingly resemble demands for Ukrainian capitulation, not be met.

The ‘grand bargain’ strategy and its crisis

To a large extent, Trump and his administration trapped themselves by abandoning the strategy of pressuring Moscow and instead betting on the 'grand deal' strategy. It seems that, in their view, the future benefits of Russian-American cooperation were supposed to push the Kremlin into making concessions in the Ukraine talks, which would allow Trump to present the agreement as his success. Trump’s belief in the importance of this cooperation was supposed to serve as a deterrent to Moscow, as well as a kind of non-military security guarantee for Kyiv. At one point in April, Trump almost enthusiastically wrote in his blog: ‘I hope that Russia and Ukraine will reach an agreement next week. After that, both countries will begin doing big business with the thriving United States, and both will make a lot of money!’

However, in Moscow's eyes, the value of the proposed Russian-American cooperation may seem considerably lower than it does in Washington. Trump’s revolutionary foreign policy pivot, which overturns long-standing principles of American foreign policy, is facing sharp criticism in the US and is not the result of bipartisan consensus but, on the contrary, a factor in internal political division. In this sense, the alliance that Trump proposed to Russia does not look like a particularly reliable or credible bet.

The transactional ‘deals’, which Trump so often favours, usually involve one-off exchanges of concessions and bonuses. Strategic partnerships, in contrast, are based on the belief that the partner's priorities and interests are long-term and unlikely to change in the foreseeable future, particularly when a new government comes to power. This is why Trump’s revolutionary foreign policy venture is unlikely to lead the Kremlin to reconsider its long-term strategy of confrontation with the West in alliance with China and in partnership with the Global South.

The 'deal' proposed by Trump’s team, Witkoff included, looks to the Kremlin not like a strategic, long-term choice for the US, but rather like a tactical move by Trump’s team. Moreover, the Trump administration has no realistic concept of what it can offer Russia in the economic sphere. This problem is not new. Even during the 'reset' of Russian-American relations in the early 2010s, experts on both sides searched for economic grounds for such a strategy and found that the space for mutual economic interests between Russia and the US was extremely narrow. While in Russian-European relations during the late Soviet and post-Soviet periods a sort of symbiosis developed based on an exchange of resources for technology and investment, such relations with the US were not possible due to America’s lack of interest in Russian resources. Now, as the US has transformed from an importer of fossil fuels to its largest exporter, this space has become even narrower.

Any potential joint Russian-American projects, such as Arctic exploration, belong to the realm of an uncertain future; they are hypothetical and do not touch on the vital interests of either country. Especially if a thaw in relations with the US does not mean a restoration of trade flows between Russia and Europe, which remain the only real alternative to Russia's trade dependence on China.

As a result, the American offer of cooperation likely holds little value in Moscow’s eyes, especially given that it could lead to complications in Russia’s relationship with China. Meanwhile, concessions on Ukraine, the assertion of its sphere of influence in the post-Soviet space, the humiliation of the West, and the deepening of the conflict between the US and Europe are far more significant and tangible geopolitical prizes.

In essence, this means that the Witkoff-Dmitriev negotiation track – the 'grand deal' concept, which the Trump administration has been obsessed with since February and which it has replaced the classic 'bilateral pressure' framework of Keith Kellogg with – has turned out to be bait not so much for the Kremlin, but for Trump himself.

Back to Kellogg: can Trump walk away from the talks?

Donald Trump has threatened Moscow and Kyiv with withdrawal from the negotiations if he does not see progress in the near future. However, he is likely to find it difficult to carry out this threat. There is a high probability that Trump’s exit from the talks without any result will be seen as his failure and a repetition of the track record of negotiations with the Taliban in Afghanistan. This may even lead to similar consequences. In this case, there is a strong likelihood that this pattern of negotiation failures will become attached to Trump's name as his main historical brand, ultimately shattering his image as a successful negotiator.

The issue is that Trump's threat only appears to be two-sided at first glance. It seems that the threat to withdraw from negotiations also implies the cessation of military aid to Ukraine. But such a scenario suits the Kremlin quite well and, in fact, looks more preferable to them than the concessions Washington is demanding. The Kremlin is confident that without American assistance, Ukraine will be unable to hold back Russia's military onslaught or, at the very least, will lose the war of attrition.

However, from Kyiv’s perspective, Trump’s threat is also ambiguous. If a withdrawal from the negotiations means the cessation of military aid, Ukraine should seek to prevent such an outcome. But equally important for Kyiv is the question of what will happen if a ceasefire agreement is reached. It appears that Washington assumes military assistance will also be halted, because Trump’s peace mission will have been accomplished. But since neither Ukraine nor Europe believe the war will end with this, and Putin has not abandoned his maximalist demands, Kyiv has no reason to agree to any restrictions or concessions implied by Trump’s 'peace plan.'

If Trump intends to halt military assistance to Ukraine regardless, his mediation loses meaning for both parties. This plan would only have worked if the prospect of a 'grand deal' had indeed tempted Putin to abandon his maximalist demands regarding Ukraine. But if that has not happened, the negotiation track will inevitably revert to the framework of Keith Kellogg’s plan. American military assistance, more precisely, the joint American-European military aid to Ukraine, is the only deterrent capable of pushing the Kremlin to make concessions.

As part of the 'grand deal' ideology, the Trump administration not only proposed not resuming military aid to Ukraine but also abandoned plans for economic pressure on the Kremlin. Indeed, although the conditions for such pressure are now maximally favourable, it makes little sense if Ukraine loses military assistance this year. The effect of such pressure would not manifest immediately. On the other hand, if Ukraine receives sufficient military assistance, then increased economic pressure on Moscow will become a more effective factor than before.

Given the current oil market surplus, lowering the price cap for Russian oil to $50 or $45 per barrel would force Russia to sell oil at a significant discount, especially as OPEC countries expand their supplies and begin to fight for the return of their market share. A fall in Russian export revenues of around 25–30% would resonate with the accumulated structural imbalances in the Russian economy. This will not lead to a crisis of Putin’s regime in the short term but will undermine Moscow's ability to carry out another offensive campaign in Ukraine comparable in intensity to last year's.

There is no doubt that, in this case, the main financial burden will fall on Europe, but with significant infrastructure involvement from the US and the demonstration of political unity. At the same time, the 'withdrawal' of the US from Ukraine will provoke not only a new Russian offensive but also an escalation of the confrontation between Russia and Europe, which will, in turn, deepen the rift in the Euro-Atlantic partnership. It is already evident that Moscow is betting on this scenario. And the US will not be able to remain the leading world power by simply pretending that this conflict does not concern it.