Assurances for Ukraine fall short

The last time Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy stood at the White House earlier this year, he was humiliated. Donald Trump berated him publicly, dismissing his appeals for support and treating Ukraine’s war of survival as a bargaining chip. This week, however, the optics were starkly different. Zelenskyy returned flanked by European leaders, and though the meeting was far from transformative, he left Washington with a measure of progress: the promise of future security guarantees.

Yet the central question remains unanswered — are these guarantees robust enough to deter Russia, or will they prove as hollow as past assurances that left Ukraine vulnerable?

The presence of European leaders at Zelenskyy’s side was no mere diplomatic theatre. After Trump’s recent summit with Vladimir Putin in Alaska, where the US president seemed disturbingly aligned with Moscow’s maximalist demands, European capitals were deeply alarmed. In recent months, Trump’s pronouncements — often based on Russian disinformation — have only been moderated when political pressure forced him to pull back. Against this backdrop, European unity in Washington sent an important message: Kyiv would not face Moscow alone.

From my perspective, this show of solidarity was essential. It was perhaps the only force capable of bringing Trump back to a more realistic position.Without that collective presence, the meeting may have produced little more than symbolic handshakes. Zelenskyy described the evolving framework with some care in a briefing to Ukrainian journalists outside the White House.

He explained that any arrangement would involve a coalition of countries, each contributing differently — financial aid, military assistance, or industrial support. Some nations could underwrite Ukraine’s defence budget; others could provide weapons and training.

In Brussels, before the Washington meetings, Zelenskyy made it clear that strengthening Ukraine’s own military capacity remains the priority. Guarantees must not merely promise help when the next invasion occurs; they must embed strategic partnerships in defence production and procurement so that Ukraine can stand on its own feet.

Reports suggest Ukraine may buy up to $90 billion of US military equipment through European intermediaries. There is also talk of the US purchasing Ukrainian-made drones — a symbolic gesture, but one that embeds Ukraine more deeply into Western supply chains. NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte even referenced an Article 5-style clause.

But here is where caution is needed. Contrary to popular belief, NATO’s Article 5 does not obligate automatic military intervention. It leaves each member state free to decide what response, if any, is appropriate. If Ukraine’s guarantees resemble this model, they would fall short of the binding commitment Kyiv desperately needs.

History casts a long shadow over these negotiations. The 1994 Budapest Memorandum remains a bitter lesson. Back then, Ukraine surrendered the third-largest nuclear arsenal in the world in exchange for promises from the United States, the United Kingdom, and Russia that its sovereignty would be respected. Within twenty years, Russia had annexed Crimea; within thirty, it had launched a full-scale war.

No serious consequences followed the breaches of Budapest, and Ukrainians have not forgotten. Any new arrangement that is vague, non-binding, or dependent on goodwill rather than enforcement will inevitably be dismissed as yet another broken promise.

Before Trump’s meeting with Putin in Alaska, I would have argued that Russia was uninterested in genuine negotiations. We saw it in Istanbul, where Moscow sent junior delegates who lacked authority to strike any deal. But Alaska has changed the dynamic. Trump’s apparent endorsement of Russia’s maximalist demands seems to have convinced Putin that he has an advocate in the White House.
This emboldens Russia to believe it could secure control over Donbas — Donetsk and Luhansk in particular — if the West tires of supporting Ukraine. For Putin, this is not only about land already occupied but about fortified Ukrainian territory still beyond his grasp. For Kyiv, conceding such ground would be disastrous.

Pursuing Peace. pic.twitter.com/lU5KfaYzyI

— The White House (@WhiteHouse) August 18, 2025

Zelenskyy has remained resolute: Ukraine will not cede territory. Legally, he cannot — altering borders requires a referendum and a constitutional amendment. Politically, the idea is toxic, deeply unpopular among Ukrainians. Practically, any “vote” in occupied regions would be meaningless under Russian guns.

And the stakes could not be higher. Donbas is not barren terrain; it contains extensive Ukrainian defences. If handed to Russia, Ukraine would lose its shield in the east, leaving the nation fatally exposed to future aggression. Moscow would be free to regroup and strike again. Even a so-called frozen conflict — a ceasefire that leaves Russian forces entrenched along current lines — would simply serve as a staging ground for the next invasion.

This war, at its core, is not about cultural ties or security anxieties. It is about Russia attempting to appropriate valuable Ukrainian land by force. In Alaska, Putin demanded recognition of Moscow’s control over the entire Donetsk and Luhansk regions, including areas where Ukrainian forces remain entrenched. That is not compromise; it is conquest.

Even so, war weariness is real. A recent Gallup poll found 69 percent of Ukrainians want a negotiated settlement as soon as possible. I interpret this less as a willingness to surrender land and more as an expression of doubt about Washington’s reliability. Under Trump, Ukraine sees the United States as an uncertain partner, one prone to shifting positions based on personal politics rather than strategic principle.

This sentiment reflects not only fatigue but fear: fear that allies will pressure Kyiv into concessions, fear that Western support will wither, and fear that Russia’s “forever war” strategy will succeed.
A settlement that rewards Russia for its genocidal campaign would not just betray Ukraine. It would set a dangerous precedent worldwide: that borders can be redrawn by force, that nuclear threats yield results, that aggression is rewarded. Europe’s security would be destabilised, and authoritarian regimes elsewhere would take note.

That is why these guarantees matter so profoundly. If they are vague, like Budapest, they will fail. If they are ambiguous, like NATO’s Article 5, they may prove insufficient. Only guarantees that include concrete commitments — long-term financing, weapon deliveries, and integration into Western defence industries — stand a chance of deterring Moscow.

One point remains clear. Russia is not negotiating in good faith. At Istanbul, the head of Moscow’s delegation declared, “Russia is prepared to fight forever.” That remains true today, despite the diplomatic choreography in Alaska or Washington. Putin’s strategy is attritional: to exhaust Ukraine and fracture Western unity. Zelenskyy understands this. His demand is not for peace at any price but for the means to ensure Ukraine can defend itself — today, tomorrow, and decades into the future.

Zelenskyy’s visit to Washington delivered progress, but it did not deliver certainty. The inclusion of the United States in security guarantees marks a shift from Trump’s earlier stance that Europe alone should shoulder the burden. The show of European unity was encouraging. But unless these guarantees are binding, enforceable, and coupled with hard commitments, they risk becoming yet another illusion — another Budapest. Ukraine cannot afford illusions. Nor can Europe. For if Russia is rewarded for this war of conquest, the echoes will not stop in Donbas.

They will reverberate across the continent, testing the very foundations of international order. Ukraine has been betrayed before. It cannot be betrayed again.

(The Conversation)