They could still win it. I don't think they will.
In the shadow of a war that has reshaped the map of Europe, Ukraine's president emerged from Washington claiming progress while the ground beneath the alliance quietly shifted. Zelenskyy secured a Patriot missile contract but reportedly faced private pressure to yield territory, even as Trump — oscillating between hope and doubt — suggested both sides simply stop where they stand. The moment captures something ancient in the architecture of great-power diplomacy: the smaller nation must read between the lines of what its patron says publicly, and act accordingly before the next reversal arrives.
- Trump privately pressed Zelenskyy to concede territory while publicly calling the meeting constructive, leaving Ukraine to navigate a widening gap between American words and intentions.
- Within days of suggesting Ukraine might recover all its land, Trump reversed course again — now urging both sides to 'stop where they are,' a formulation that implicitly ratifies Russian territorial gains.
- Zelenskyy is racing to London and Brussels to lock in European security guarantees before Trump meets Putin in Hungary — a summit from which Ukraine is pointedly excluded.
- Russian strikes on the Chernihiv region cut power to towns near Chornobyl even as diplomats debated billions in loans, underscoring that the war's human toll does not pause for negotiations.
- The EU moves toward a 140 billion euro loan backed by frozen Russian assets, and Britain prices its stabilisation force commitment at over 100 million pounds — Europe quietly preparing for an America that may no longer be reliable.
Volodymyr Zelenskyy left his White House meeting calling it a success. He did not get Tomahawk cruise missiles, but he secured a deal for 25 Patriot air defence systems — a concrete gain he could point to. What he did not say publicly was what reports were already suggesting: that Trump had pressed him, in private, to surrender Ukrainian territory to Russia.
Trump himself seemed caught between competing instincts. Days earlier he had floated the idea that Ukraine might recover everything it had lost. Then, after a long call with Putin and the meeting with Zelenskyy, he reversed again. Standing before reporters, he said Ukraine could still win — but he doubted it would. His new prescription: both sides should simply stop where they are. When asked about the contradictions, he waved them off as the nature of war.
Zelenskyy was already looking elsewhere. He planned to travel to London for a meeting of the 'coalition of the willing' — a gathering timed deliberately before Trump's expected summit with Putin in Hungary, from which Ukraine would be excluded. The goal was binding security guarantees from Europe. Brussels would follow, with a European Council summit on Thursday. The logic was plain: if Washington's commitment was becoming unreliable, Europe had to fill the gap.
The war continued regardless. Russian forces struck the Chernihiv region, hitting energy infrastructure and cutting power to civilian areas including Slavutych, a town 45 kilometres from the Chornobyl nuclear site. Emergency crews worked through the night.
In Brussels, EU foreign ministers signalled readiness to advance a 140 billion euro loan for Ukraine, drawn from frozen Russian central bank assets. Britain's Defence Secretary announced the UK's contribution to a joint stabilisation force would cost well over 100 million pounds, with spending already being accelerated so the force could deploy quickly if a ceasefire emerged.
In Moscow, the parliament moved in the opposite direction — introducing legislation backed by nearly all deputies that would impose life imprisonment for involving minors in sabotage and lower the age of criminal responsibility to 14. It was one more law in a long series expanding the state's power to punish dissent and opposition to the war.
Volodymyr Zelenskyy emerged from his White House meeting with Donald Trump calling it a success, telling reporters on Sunday that the American president's message had been constructive. The Ukrainian leader did not get everything he wanted—Tomahawk cruise missiles remained off the table—but he left with something concrete: a deal to purchase 25 Patriot air defence systems, a significant addition to Ukraine's ability to defend against Russian airstrikes. This framing stood in sharp contrast to reports that had begun circulating about the actual tenor of the conversation, accounts suggesting Trump had been far harsher than the initial diplomatic readouts indicated, and that he had pressed Zelenskyy to surrender territory to Russia.
Trump himself seemed to be working through his own shifting calculations about the war. Just days earlier, he had reversed a long-held position and suggested Ukraine might actually recover all its lost territory. Now, after a lengthy phone call with Vladimir Putin and the meeting with Zelenskyy, he had reversed course again. Standing at the White House on Monday, Trump told reporters he thought Ukraine could still win but doubted it would. "They could still win it. I don't think they will, but they could still win it," he said, before pivoting to a new formulation: Kyiv and Moscow should simply "stop where they are" and end the fighting. When pressed about these contradictions, Trump shrugged them off as the nature of war itself—unpredictable, strange, unknowable.
Zelenskyy was already moving to shore up support elsewhere. He planned to travel to London on Friday for a meeting of what diplomats call the "coalition of the willing," a gathering that would happen before Trump's expected summit with Putin in Hungary—a meeting from which Ukraine would be excluded. The Ukrainian president said his aim in London was to secure binding security guarantees for Kyiv, and he signaled there would be a cascade of negotiations across Europe in the coming days. On Thursday, he would be in Brussels for a European Council summit. The message was clear: if Washington's commitment was wavering, Europe needed to step in.
Meanwhile, the war itself continued with brutal indifference to diplomatic schedules. On Monday, Russian forces attacked the Chernihiv region in northern Ukraine, striking energy infrastructure and cutting power to stretches of territory, including the town of Slavutych, which sits just 45 kilometers from the decommissioned Chornobyl nuclear power station. Emergency crews worked through the night to restore electricity to civilians in the dark.
In Brussels, European Union foreign ministers signaled they were prepared to move forward with a 140 billion euro loan for Ukraine, funded by frozen Russian central bank assets held mostly in Belgium. The EU's foreign policy chief, Kaja Kallas, said there was "broad support" for the plan, though the bloc was still working to persuade Belgium, which had raised concerns about the legal and fiscal mechanics of the arrangement. The money would keep Ukraine's government functioning and its economy from collapsing, a backstop against the possibility that American support might become less reliable.
Britain, too, was preparing for a post-war scenario. Defence Secretary John Healey announced that the UK's contribution to a multinational stabilisation force for Ukraine—to be led jointly by Britain and France—would cost "well over 100 million pounds." Healey said he had already begun accelerating military spending so the force could deploy quickly if peace talks produced a ceasefire. "Peace is possible," he said, "and if President Trump can broker a peace, then we will be ready to help secure that peace for the long term."
In Moscow, lawmakers were moving in the opposite direction. The lower house of parliament had introduced a bill, backed by 419 of 450 deputies, that would mandate life imprisonment for anyone involving minors in sabotage operations and would lower the age of criminal responsibility for such crimes to 14. The security committee chairman framed it as a necessary measure to protect the state. It was the latest in a series of laws Russia had passed since the 2022 invasion, each one expanding the powers of state security agencies to detain and prosecute those accused of misrepresenting the war or opposing the government.
Citas Notables
They could still win it. I don't think they will, but they could still win it.— Donald Trump, on Ukraine's chances of defeating Russia
Peace is possible, and if President Trump can broker a peace, then we will be ready to help secure that peace for the long term.— John Healey, British Defence Secretary, on UK readiness for post-ceasefire stabilisation
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why would Zelenskyy call the meeting positive when reports say Trump pushed him to give up territory?
Because in diplomacy, you declare victory even when you've compromised. He got the Patriot systems—that's real, tangible. The territorial pressure is a separate conversation, one he's not going to litigate in public.
But doesn't that seem dishonest to his own people?
It's strategic. If he admits Trump is pressuring him to concede land, it weakens his negotiating position and demoralizes Ukrainians. The Patriot deal is something he can point to and say, "Look, I'm still getting what we need."
Trump keeps changing his mind about whether Ukraine can win. How does Zelenskyy plan around that?
He doesn't. That's why he's racing to London and Brussels—to build a coalition that doesn't depend on Trump's mood swings. Europe's 140 billion euro loan, Britain's stabilisation force, these are anchors that exist whether Trump believes in Ukrainian victory or not.
Is there any chance Russia actually agrees to stop where they are?
Unlikely. Russia has momentum right now. Why would Putin agree to freeze the conflict when he's still advancing? Trump's "stop where you are" proposal assumes both sides are equally exhausted, but they're not.
What about those Russian laws targeting minors in sabotage?
That's Russia preparing for a long occupation. If you're drafting laws about minors committing sabotage, you're assuming you'll be governing Ukrainian territory for years. It's a signal about how Russia sees the endgame.