No such 100-day peace plan exists, he said—disinformation.
As the third year of war in Ukraine grinds on, a detailed peace framework has surfaced in Kyiv's political circles — one that would trade NATO ambitions for neutrality, and battlefield sacrifice for a spring ceasefire. Whether the plan is a genuine diplomatic overture, a trial balloon floated by American envoys, or a piece of strategic disinformation remains unresolved. What the episode reveals, regardless of its origins, is that the question of how this war ends is no longer abstract — and that the terms being whispered carry profound consequences for what Ukraine's sovereignty will ultimately mean.
- A granular 100-day roadmap — allegedly drafted by Trump's special envoy Keith Kellogg — has leaked into Ukrainian media, laying out a step-by-step path from a Trump-Putin phone call to an Easter ceasefire.
- The plan would ask Ukraine to surrender its NATO bid and declare permanent neutrality, striking at the very security guarantees Kyiv has fought to secure since Russia's 2022 invasion.
- Zelenskyy's office moved swiftly to kill the story, with chief of staff Andriy Yermak calling it outright disinformation — leaving open the unsettling question of whether the denial is accurate or defensive.
- The proposed timeline is symbolically loaded: a ceasefire on Easter Sunday, a formal war-ending declaration on Russia's Victory Day — dates that carry weight far beyond the diplomatic calendar.
- The plan's existence — real or fabricated — has already done its work, forcing Ukraine's allies and adversaries alike to reckon publicly with what a negotiated end to the war might actually cost.
A detailed peace proposal for Ukraine has begun circulating through Kyiv's political circles, reportedly originating with Lt. Gen. Keith Kellogg, Trump's newly appointed special envoy. According to Ukrainian media outlet Strana, the document outlines a precise 100-day sequence: a Trump-Putin phone call in late January or February, followed by direct talks with Zelenskyy, and a ceasefire along the front lines by Easter Sunday, April 20.
The proposed terms are specific and consequential. Ukraine would renounce its bid for NATO membership and declare permanent neutrality — a fundamental reversal of the security path Kyiv has pursued since Russia's full-scale invasion in 2022. In exchange, the plan offers EU membership by 2030, European-funded reconstruction, and continued American modernization of Ukraine's military. Some Western sanctions on Russia would be lifted upon agreement, including restrictions on Russian energy exports to Europe. Ukrainian forces would simultaneously withdraw from the Kursk region. By May 9 — Victory Day in Russia — an international peace conference involving the U.S., China, European nations, and Global South countries would formally declare the war over.
Within hours of the report spreading internationally, Zelenskyy's chief of staff Andriy Yermak issued a sharp denial: no such plan exists, he said, and the story itself amounted to disinformation. The dismissal left the deeper question unanswered — whether genuine back-channel negotiations are underway, whether the leak was a deliberate trial balloon, or whether the document serves someone else's interests entirely. What the episode makes unmistakable is that the conversation about how this war ends has begun in earnest, and the terms under discussion cut directly to the heart of what Ukraine has been fighting for.
Word of a sweeping peace proposal for Ukraine has begun circulating in Kyiv, sketched out in what American officials are calling a 100-day roadmap. According to Ukrainian media outlet Strana, the plan lays out a precise sequence of events meant to end the war by spring: a phone call between Trump and Putin in late January or early February, followed by direct negotiations with Zelenskyy, and ultimately a ceasefire along the front lines by Easter.
The architecture of the proposal, as Strana describes it, appears to trace back to Lt. Gen. Keith Kellogg, Trump's newly appointed special envoy tasked with resolving the conflict within a hundred days. The document reportedly moved from American officials to European allies and eventually reached Ukrainian hands, where it has now become the subject of intense speculation and denial.
The timeline is granular. Trump would initiate contact with Putin first. Once preliminary agreement on negotiating terms emerged, Zelenskyy would be asked to rescind his decree banning talks with the Russian president. By mid-March, the three leaders would meet—either all together or in separate bilateral sessions, to be determined. As the framework took shape, work would shift to special commissioners operating behind the scenes. Then, on April 20, Easter Sunday, a ceasefire would take hold along the entire front line. Simultaneously, Ukrainian forces would withdraw from the Kursk region, territory they have held since launching a surprise incursion last year.
The substance of what would be negotiated is equally specific. Ukraine would renounce its bid for NATO membership and declare permanent neutrality—a reversal of the security guarantees Kyiv has pursued since Russia's 2022 invasion. In exchange, the plan proposes EU membership by 2030 and a European commitment to fund reconstruction. The United States would continue modernizing Ukraine's military, though the country would not reduce its armed forces. Some Western sanctions on Russia would be lifted immediately upon agreement; restrictions on Russian energy exports to Europe would be removed as well.
By late April, an international peace conference would convene, bringing together the United States, China, European nations, and countries from the Global South to formalize the terms. Prisoner exchanges would begin. By May 9—Victory Day in Russia, a symbolically loaded date—the conference would issue a declaration formally ending the war. Ukraine would then exit martial law and demobilization, returning to a peacetime footing.
But within hours of Strana's report spreading through Ukrainian political circles and international media, the presidential office in Kyiv moved to extinguish it. Andriy Yermak, head of President Zelenskyy's office, issued a sharp denial. No such 100-day peace plan exists, he said. The report was disinformation, he added—the kind of narrative Russia itself has incentive to amplify and legitimize. The statement left the fundamental question unresolved: whether serious negotiations of this kind are actually underway, or whether the proposal represents either a trial balloon, a Russian information operation, or something else entirely. What remains clear is that any path to ending the war will require Ukraine to make choices about its future alignment that cut to the heart of why it fought in the first place.
Notable Quotes
These are just disinformation attempts often legitimised by Russians.— Andriy Yermak, head of Ukraine's presidential office
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why would Trump's team put something this detailed in writing if they wanted to keep it quiet?
They may not have intended it to be public. The plan could have been shared with European allies as a way to build support, and once it reaches that many hands, containment becomes nearly impossible. Or it could be a deliberate leak—a way to test reactions without formally proposing it.
The Easter ceasefire date seems oddly symbolic. Is that meaningful?
It's a date that carries weight in Christian Europe and America. It signals something aspirational, almost redemptive. But it's also only three months away. That's a very compressed timeline for ending a war that's consumed three years.
What's the real cost to Ukraine in this plan?
NATO membership is the biggest one. That's what Ukraine went to war over—the fear that Russia would dominate it forever. Neutrality means accepting that Russia has a veto over Ukraine's future security choices. The Kursk withdrawal is also significant; it's territory Ukrainian soldiers died taking.
Why would Zelenskyy's office deny it so quickly?
If the plan is real and they haven't agreed to it, denial buys them time and leverage. If it's not real, denial stops it from becoming the baseline for negotiations. Either way, admitting you're considering abandoning NATO membership is politically explosive at home.
Could this actually work?
The timeline is aggressive, and it requires Russia, Ukraine, and the U.S. to move in lockstep. The harder question is whether the terms are acceptable to Kyiv's parliament and people. You can't end a war if your own country won't accept the peace.