Prospects of peace in Ukraine are flickering like a candle in winds
By T N Ashok
NEW YORK: When Franklin D. Roosevelt and Winston Churchill met off the coast of Newfoundland in 1941 to sign the Atlantic Charter, they did more than draft a document. They staged a symbolic alignment of values that set the tone for the Allied victory in World War II.
Eighty four years later, the White House again became a stage for history as President Donald Trump, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, and seven European leaders convened in Washington on Monday August 18.. It was a moment pregnant with symbolism, urgency, and risk, as the world strained to see whether this unprecedented gathering could yield the beginnings of peace in Ukraine.
The summit came just days after Trump’s nearly three-hour one-on-one meeting with Vladimir Putin in Anchorage, Alaska. That dialogue, part theatre and part raw diplomacy, stopped short of a ceasefire deal but cracked open the possibility of one. It also put Trump squarely in the middle of a geopolitical contest where he relishes playing the role of dealmaker-in-chief.
Now, with European leaders boarding planes in 48 hours’ notice to rush to Washington, Trump has pulled together a coalition—fractured, skeptical, but undeniably present. The stakes: Crimea, Ukraine’s sovereignty, NATO’s security, Europe’s unity, and the future of the global order.
The Alaska meeting was the first high-level U.S.-Russia encounter in nearly a decade to last as long as it did. Trump emerged declaring, “We didn’t get there,” but pointedly adding that “progress was made.” Putin was more cryptic, offering that he was “sincerely interested” in ending the war but holding back on any concrete commitments. There’s no deal … until there’s a deal, he declared.
Anchorage revealed two things: first, that Putin remains steadfast on his core demands—no NATO membership for Ukraine, recognition of Crimea as Russian territory, and security guarantees along Russia’s western border. Second, that Trump is willing to play the long game, dangling carrots of sanctions relief and energy cooperation while threatening economic isolation if Putin stalls.
But crucially, no ceasefire was announced. The guns did not fall silent. And as Russian bombardments intensified in eastern Ukraine days later, Europe realized it had little choice but to rush to Washington to try to influence the process.
When French President Emmanuel Macron, British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, Finnish President Alexander Stubb, NATO Secretary-General Mark Rutte, and European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen walked through the White House gates, it was the most dramatic display of trans-Atlantic unity since the early 1990s.
They came not merely to support Zelenskyy, who had endured a disastrous February visit marred by clashes with Trump and Vice President JD Vance, but to ensure Europe’s voice was not drowned out in what increasingly looked like Trump’s attempt to stage a bilateral peace with Putin.
Inside the Oval Office, Trump sat at the Resolute Desk, Zelenskyy and the Europeans opposite him. It was a tableau of history: military flags behind the U.S. president, European leaders invoking memories of Cold War summits, and Zelenskyy in a business suit rather than fatigues—an image of diplomacy over defiance.
For Zelenskyy, the tone was markedly different. He thanked Trump repeatedly—for the invitation, for his “efforts to stop killings and stop this war,” and even for First Lady Melania Trump’s personal appeal to Putin to protect Ukrainian children. He thanked Europe, too, for “standing strong when we stand alone.” Zelenskyy in turn handed over a letter from his wife to Melania Trump for her gesture in penning an epistle to Putin.
The optics were clear: Washington had become the stage where Europe, Ukraine, and America sought to script an endgame.
The elephant in the room was Crimea. Putin has made recognition of Russia’s annexation non-negotiable. Trump, in private, has hinted that “there’s no deal without Crimea.” Zelenskyy, however, has built his entire presidency on refusing to cede it.
At Washington, no formal statement was issued. But leaks suggest that Trump floated the idea of a “de facto” recognition—a freeze of territorial claims that leaves Crimea in Russian hands without Ukraine formally signing it away. It is a formulation reminiscent of Cold War-era compromises over divided Germany.
For Europe, this is a dangerous bargain. Recognition, even implied, could embolden Russia elsewhere. Yet fatigue is real. European economies battered by inflation and energy shocks are desperate for a thaw. As one senior EU diplomat put it privately, “If Crimea buys us peace, some will quietly accept.”
The other central question was whether the Washington gathering could move the world closer to a ceasefire. Here, the mood was cautiously optimistic. Trump spoke of “stopping the killings first, solving politics later.” Macron endorsed the idea of a “humanitarian pause”. Meloni called for a “durable peace framework.”
Still, Putin’s calculus looms large. Without territorial concessions, he has little incentive to halt his offensive. And Ukraine, without firm U.S. and European guarantees, cannot risk a ceasefire that merely cements Russian gains.
The Washington summit produced no formal ceasefire announcement. But sources suggest the groundwork is being laid for a Trump-brokered trilateral summit in Budapest, with Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán—Trump’s close ally—offering to host. That could be the real test of whether diplomacy moves from photo ops to substance.
Budapest is no accident. Hungary, often a dissenting voice within the EU, has maintained warm ties with Putin even during the war. PM Orbán, eager to raise his global profile, is positioning himself as the European facilitator who can “bring East and West together.”
For Trump, Budapest offers a friendly stage, away from Washington scrutiny and European Commission dominance. For Putin, it’s neutral ground in the heart of Europe. For Zelenskyy, it is a chance—albeit fraught—to sit across the table from his adversary with American power backing him.
If it happens, Budapest could mirror the great 20th-century peace conferences: Yalta, Potsdam, even Camp David. Or it could collapse into another round of mutual recriminations.
The Washington and prospective Budapest summits are not just about Ukraine. Their implications ripple worldwide:
As regards Europe, NATO unity is being tested. If Trump pushes through a Crimea compromise, eastern flank states like Poland and the Baltics will recoil, fearing abandonment. Western states, however, may quietly cheer relief from defense spending and refugee pressures.
Gulf states, especially Saudi Arabia and the UAE, are watching closely. A thaw with Russia could ease oil market volatility, but it could also embolden Iran if Moscow feels freer to expand influence.
In Asia , China sees opportunity. If Trump and Putin strike a deal that weakens NATO cohesion, Beijing may accelerate moves in the South China Sea or against Taiwan, calculating Western unity is fragile.
Markets initially rallied after Anchorage, then wavered as no ceasefire materialized. Washington gave another bump, with European equities surging on hopes of reduced energy costs. But uncertainty remains. Traders know: peace headlines lift stocks; stalled talks sink them.
The truth is both. The Washington meeting marked the first serious multilateral push for peace in two years. It placed Trump at the center, with Zelenskyy and Europe aligned—at least for now. That is progress.
But the obstacles remain formidable. Crimea is unresolved. Putin’s trustworthiness is questionable. Zelenskyy risks political suicide if he accepts too much. Trump, ever mercurial, could pivot if the deal does not suit his electoral calendar.
The prospects of peace in Ukraine are neither bright nor dim—they are flickering, like a candle in the wind. Strong enough to offer hope, fragile enough to be extinguished at any moment. (IPA Service)
