Demands in Kyiv, Deals in Washington, Divisions in New York

The Russia-Ukraine war isn’t just playing out on the battlefield—it’s unfolding in summit halls and behind closed doors. Over the past few days, two major diplomatic events have set the tone: the Kyiv Summit and the Washington meeting between French President Emmanuel Macron and U.S. President Donald Trump.

In my last piece, I looked at the driving factors behind the Trump administration shifting U.S. policy on Ukraine and Russia, and how it aligns with the broader strategic perspective of a multipolar world with the U.S. and China as its apex players.

Today, we will look at the view from the other side of the Atlantic. Until now, my analysis was based on the fragmented reactions by European leaders, including the two emergency meetings in Paris in response to the American pivot under the new administration, particularly after Trump’s now-historic phone call with Putin.

The Kyiv Summit, held on the three-year anniversary of the war, provided a concentrated and unrivaled view into the collective European consciousness on Ukraine. This meeting revealed not just Europe’s strategy, but also its anxieties, incentives, and deepening fault lines.

It offered a rare window into Europe’s thought ecosystem, and how the conversation on the continent has evolved on the topic of the war. With 35 nations in attendance—predominantly European, aside from Japan and Canada—the summit wasn’t just about unity; it was Europe’s declaration that it would not be sidelined.

I watched every statement (so you don’t have to), dissecting the rhetoric to uncover the real drivers behind Europe’s position.

I also made sure to look at this summit in the broader global context, keeping an eye out on parallel events that tied into it, like the votes in the United Nations General Assembly and Security Council, and the meeting between Presidents Trump and Macron in Washington, each of which affected and were affected by the proceedings of the summit.

The picture that emerged was, to say the least, revealing.

The Kyiv Summit: A European Echo Chamber

With the U.S. conspicuously absent, this summit laid the groundwork for Europe’s next moves—starting with the emergency summit on March 6^th . Predictably, the meeting featured near-unanimous consensus—so much so that many statements sounded as if they were reading from a shared script.

And of course, it wouldn’t be a European summit without framing the conflict in moral absolutes, a struggle of good versus evil, democracy against tyranny. A war in defense of collective values against, to quote the French minister delegate, an existential threat to Europe. Much was also made of the importance of upholding the rules-based international order. Leaders spoke of defending borders, punishing aggression, and ensuring that force does not dictate international relations.

This raised an obvious question—who was this message really for? Outside of Europe, no one sees the EU as a beacon of moral authority in global affairs, and neither Russia nor the U.S. pay much attention to this sort of rhetoric coming from Europe, reinforcing the idea of the European echo chamber. The claims were made even weaker by the juxtaposition of similar violations of international law taking place simultaneously in the Middle East, with fairly limited reactions from most European states.

However, diving beyond the self-aggrandizing rhetoric on display, we get down to the nuts and bolts of the strategic themes of the meeting.

The two dominant elements? Nothing about Ukraine without Ukraine, and security guarantees. Every speaker dutifully echoed these lines, as though they were mandatory declarations rather than statements of intent. There was also a strong insistence that Europe could not be sidelined in negotiations—a not-so-subtle reaction to the shifting U.S. stance under Trump.

The Riyadh meeting between the U.S. secretary of state and the Russian minister of foreign affairs raised alarm bells all across the continent, particularly on the heels of the Presidential phone call between Trump and Putin. The swift American engagement with Russia left Europe scrambling and Ukraine worrying that a deal would be made over their heads and without their input.

Europe expects to be at the table but, as the Norwegian Prime Minister stated, it cannot complain its way there. It has to offer value to the parties involved, something that has already been questioned by the Russian government . And yet, seemingly intent on shooting themselves in the foot, Europe adhered to and alienating and hard line discourse that seemed almost deliberately designed to portray it as a spoiler rather than a constructive contributor to any dialogue; there is a fine line between portraying strength and assuredness, and framing yourself as a disruptor to any potential process.

Security guarantees were a cornerstone of the discussions—but what those guarantees actually meant varied widely among speakers. The foundational agreement was that Ukraine’s accession to the EU is a matter of time -something Russia already acknowledges as Ukraine’s right, but beyond that there were some discrepancies. Some leaders declared Ukraine’s path to NATO as “irreversible”—a nonstarter for Moscow and a key driver of its aggression. Others suggested using NATO accession as a bargaining chip, while some avoided the topic altogether.

The participants also used the platform to reiterate their individual and collective support for Ukraine’s war effort, pledging various weapons, munitions and training they would provide to Kyiv to continue the fight, while working in parallel to maximize pressure on Moscow through multiple economic avenues. These include the parallel tracks of imposing a new round of harsh sanctions, and using the proceeds from frozen Russian funds in Europe -some 230 billion dollars according to president Macron- to support purchases and reconstruction efforts in Ukraine.

How this pans out remains to be seen; sanctions haven’t broken Russia in three years—even with full U.S. backing. Now, with Washington warming to engagement, Europe’s economic pressure campaign may be even less effective. Most of the Global South is hesitant to participate in these unilaterally imposed sanctions, and view them as an unwelcome Western political tool that they have no obligation to uphold, as evidenced by Russia’s thriving trade and economic engagements not only with the growing BRICS bloc, but with many non-western state actors.

The summit revealed a core driver of Europe’s position—its unwillingness to reconsider strategy after three years of heavy investment. In essence, European leadership is trapped in the sunken cost fallacy. Interspersed throughout the leaders’ statements and speeches was the emphasis on how much Europe had spent on the war, and the fact that Europe was the biggest contributor to the Ukrainian war effort. It was informative to see the European and American sides compete on this point, albeit at a distance because as the Europeans were claiming the biggest investment in the war, Donald Trump on the other side of the Atlantic was stating that the U.S. was “in for 300 billion dollars.”

The point however, is that Europe seems reluctant to acknowledge that its investment in the war may not have delivered the returns it had expected, and therefore rather than acknowledge this problem and attempt to salvage further losses, it opted to dig its heels in and pursue the same policy it has pursued since the beginning. It is an understandable position because the cost of revisiting their position would be enormous, economically and politically. To do so would mean that European leaders would have to admit to their voters that their strategy failed, and bear the repercussions, including losses at the ballots and possible audits and reviews of their decision making process.

Further conflating this issue is that Europe was the reluctant partner at the beginning. The U.S. was the one that lobbied for the hard line position toward Russia, launching a diplomatic campaign in late 2021 to bring Europe around to its point of view. Having adopted and internalized the American position since then, European capitals have proven less flexible in shifting their position in the wake of the U.S. pivot.

While the criticisms at the summit were aimed at Russia, there was another unspoken target: Washington. Mixed into the speeches were clear jabs at the U.S. position, particularly its readiness to engage Moscow. The frustration stemmed from two realities: Washington’s lack of pre-coordination with Europe, and the fact that Europe’s moralistic stance leaves it boxed in. How can European leaders justify negotiating with the same Russian leader they’ve spent years branding an imperialist dictator out to destroy democracy?

In the end, the summit felt more like an echo chamber. The ideas were predictable. The conclusions were preordained, and the soundbites agreed upon. And the biggest challenge Europe now faces isn’t just Russia—it’s finding a way forward when the ground beneath it is shifting.

The Ukrainian Battering Ram

The Kyiv Summit made one thing clear—Europe has fully inherited Biden’s Ukraine strategy. Biden’s strategy relied on using U.S. allies to weaken adversaries—often at the allies’ own expense. In the Middle East, he used Netanyahu’s shaky right-wing government as a battering ram to decimate regional rivals, weakening Iran’s influence, shaking the ground beneath Assad, and destabilizing Hezbollah in Lebanon. In Europe, he used Ukraine to weaken Russia, limit its growth potential, and focus its energies on an essentially cyclical and possibly endless conflict, which suited the U.S. just fine.

That both allies ended up worse off wasn’t a problem for Biden—it only deepened their dependence on the U.S., making them more compliant with American dictates. Israel is facing unprecedented international political and economic isolation, regressing in international standing to a point that its head of government and former defense minister have warrants against them for war crimes, while Ukraine remains locked in a conflict against an intractable foe that sees the war as a matter of survival.

Europe, reluctant at first, acquiesced and inherited the Biden administration’s position, and while the U.S. pivoted under its new administration, Europe doubled down. European leaders have effectively taken over the Biden-era playbook, keeping the weapons flowing and pushing Kyiv to sustain the fight for as long as possible. For Biden, a prolonged conflict made strategic sense—it kept Europe dependent on the U.S. and kept Russia off balance. But for Europe, there appears to be no grand strategy—just the hope that Russia eventually cracks under pressure.

Adopting this approach of maximum pressure, some leaders like the Danish Prime Minister suggested removing the self-imposed red lines and pushing Ukraine to fight harder. European officials insist Ukraine must set the terms of peace—yet in the same breath, they warn that without Europe at the table, no deal will hold. The unspoken threat was clear—if talks don’t go Europe’s way, it will move the goalposts, either by escalating what “victory” means or by hardening Ukraine’s diplomatic stance.

This isn’t just about security—it’s about political survival. A settlement that falls short of Europe’s demands would be a credibility crisis for its leaders. And credibility is already in dangerously short supply. The longer the war drags on, the harder it becomes to justify to European citizens. Public discontent is rising. And yet, rather than reassessing their approach, leaders are digging in.

The real problem? Unlike the U.S., Europe doesn’t have a clear off-ramp. Washington has options. Trump’s administration is already laying the groundwork to normalize ties with Russia, rebuild relations, and peel Moscow away from Beijing. For the U.S., Ukraine was always a means to an end, not an existential issue. But for Europe, this is different.

European leaders aren’t just dealing with battlefield realities; they’re dealing with political survival at home. If Ukraine loses, they lose. If Ukraine settles for less than a decisive victory, they lose. The war is no longer just about Ukraine—it’s about European leaders proving that their investment, their strategy, and their rhetoric haven’t been for nothing. And that, more than anything, is why they can’t afford to stop.

The problem is that its Ukraine that is paying for the European position, something that Zelensky seems to have recognized over the course of the past few weeks. As the Americans shifted their position toward Russia, and the Europeans hardened their stance, Zelensky engaged with other regional actors chief among them Türkiye in an attempt to find a middle ground and an exit strategy for his country.

The Endgame for Europe?

For the U.S., the endgame is clear: thaw relations with Russia, rebuild ties, and possibly pull Moscow out of China’s orbit. The economic angle is just as important. Trump made it explicit in his Oval Office meeting with Macron: the U.S. sees Russia’s vast resources, particularly its rare earth minerals, as a strategic prize. The logic is simple—Russia, for all its nuclear power, is not a true peer competitor. China, according to the new administration, is. And in a multipolar world, the U.S. would rather have Russia as a under its wing than in the Chinese camp.

But what about Europe?

If Europe has a clear endgame, it wasn’t visible at the summit. What emerged instead was a mix of wishful thinking, economic opportunism, and political self-preservation.

One theme ran through nearly every statement: the belief that sanctions—despite failing to break Russia over the last three years—would somehow work better now, even without full U.S. backing. This assumption is questionable. If an all-in, transatlantic economic campaign couldn’t force Moscow to yield, why would a weakened, fragmented effort suddenly succeed? And yet, European leaders spoke as though more pressure—more of the same—would push Russia into making choices directly against its own perceived national security interests.

But a telling moment came from Ursula von der Leyen. Between the predictable rhetoric, she dropped two key indicators of what Europe may be after: energy and defense industry expansion.

On energy, Europe has learned the hard way what it means to be dependent on a rival power. Cutting off Russian gas was painful, but the lesson stuck, even as it became ever more dependent on American liquified natural gas. Now, the EU is eyeing Ukraine’s natural gas as a replacement. Von der Leyen framed it as “integration” into Europe’s energy grid—a diplomatic way of saying that Ukraine’s energy production is being absorbed into the European market. In other words, having cut itself off from one supplier, Europe now seeks to secure another—this time, one fully under its control.

On defense, war, it turns out, is good business. The prolonged conflict has given Europe’s defense sector an unprecedented boost, with governments funneling investments into military production at levels unseen in decades. Extending the war benefits the European defense industry. The longer it drags on, the more justification there is for increased military spending, industrial expansion, and securing a long-term role in global arms markets.

And then there’s the pride factor.

No one in Brussels, Berlin, or Paris wants to be seen as losing to Moscow. European leaders have staked too much political capital, too much credibility, and too much money on this war to simply walk away. If the conflict ends on anything other than their terms, Europe’s global standing takes a hit. The message that would send—not just to Russia, but to the world—would be one of strategic weakness, a dangerous position for Europe in an increasingly multipolar world.

And then there’s fear.

For the Baltic states and Eastern European nations, this isn’t just about Ukraine—it’s about survival. They’ve lived under Russia’s shadow before, and they aren’t betting their security on a weakened EU or a distracted U.S.. Their concern is simple: if Russia emerges stronger from this war, what happens next? If Moscow is emboldened, and Europe proves incapable of deterring it, what is the real value of the European alliance?

But no matter how much European leaders insist on Ukraine’s right to choose its own future, there are hard limits. Lavrov made it clear: Moscow has no issue with Ukraine joining the EU. But NATO? That remains a red line. The same one that’s been there since before the war. The same one that isn’t going away.

So where does that leave Europe?

In a precarious position. is pouring resources into Ukraine while its own economies stagnate. It is banking on sanctions that have done little to weaken Russia, even as Moscow expands its global reach. It is pushing for a victory that may not be possible, while dismissing negotiations unless they serve its interests. And it is facing the uncomfortable reality that the U.S., under Trump, is already on the other side of the table.

The real question: Will Europe face reality, or will it keep doubling down—no matter the cost?

The issue of victory in this self-described battle between ‘good and evil’ is also questionable: is the endgame Russia’s utter capitulation? Does that not bring back the memories of the Versailles Treaty? Does Europe really want a resentful, nuclear armed state, hardened by war, and embittered by humiliating defeat at its doorstep?

Not that this is a likely outcome given the realities on the ground at this stage, but the mere fact that Europe insists on framing this conflict in those terms is already a matter for concern; it implies that the continent cannot see beyond its own rhetoric to assess the geopolitical realities on the ground, making it a questionable partner to have at the table for Russia, Ukraine, and the U.S..

A Shifting Global Context

The Kyiv Summit didn’t happen in a vacuum—it played out against a backdrop of shifting alliances, rising tensions, and a global order in flux. he Ukraine conflict is no longer just a regional war—it’s a stress test for a fractured global system, exposing divisions in international politics, a shifting European landscape, and an evolving balance of power.

In New York, the UN General Assembly and Security Council each passed resolutions on Ukraine—exposing a widening rift. This time, it wasn’t just Russia against the West; it was the U.S. and Russia on one side, Europe on the other. The U.S. abstained from the European led General Assembly resolution calling for a “comprehensive, just, and lasting peace” in Ukraine, and every European member of the Security Council abstained from the American led resolution on the conflict while Russia supported it.

This multilateral engagement paints a truer picture of the state of Euro-American engagement on Russia and Ukraine than the diplomatic words exchanged at the Trump-Macron summit in Washington. The U.S. has made it clear that its priority at this stage is reengagement with Russia not its connection with its transatlantic allies.

Meanwhile in Washington, President Macron met with President Trump, discussing ways to reconcile the European and American positions on the war even as the rift threatens to widen. While European leaders in Kyiv dug in their heels, Macron was in Washington, carefully threading a diplomatic needle—trying to keep Europe relevant while opening channels with Trump. He cautiously welcomed the American president’s outreach to Moscow, framing it as a new context and a new approach to a stagnating situation, with a caveat that there had to be verifiable steps to peace before further engagement. Trump, in his usual style, declared that he would “get this deal done.” He insisted that talks with Putin were inevitable and that there was mutual interest in ending the war—especially with Ukraine’s rare earth minerals as part of the equation.

At the same time in Germany, we saw the outcomes of the elections, with the center right CDU taking the win, led by the fiery Friedrich Merz, and coming in at an alarming second place with nearly 21% of the vote was the far right AfD party. These results, with the incumbent Olaf Scholz coming in third place, lend credence to the statement made by the Albanian Prime Minister in Kyiv that Western European leaders would have to reckon with their voters for their failed policies if they do not figure out a way out of the quagmire in which they are immersed.

Germany’s election wasn’t an outlier—it was part of a broader trend. Across Europe, populist and right-wing parties are gaining ground, fueled by economic stagnation, immigration concerns, and growing frustration with leadership. The handling of Ukraine is now part of that equation—another policy failure voters are rejecting.

The cracks in the Western front are no longer subtle—they’re widening. What once seemed like unshakable unity is now eroding. The U.S. is shifting its priorities, European governments are struggling under domestic pressure, and the geopolitical chessboard is tilting. The question is: how much longer can this fragile strategy hold before it unravels completely?

How Did Europe Get Here ?

Trump said, repeatedly, that if he were president, the war would not have happened. In this case, he was right. The conflict, spurred by Russian trepidation at NATO’s growth since 1999, could have been contained in its early stages had the U.S. administration at the time wanted to do so. Instead, it saw strategic advantage in the conflict, not only the immediate benefit of isolating Russia and compelling it to expend its resources on the conflict, but also in decoupling Europe from Russia through severing the energy ties between them. In doing so, it secured a lucrative market for American liquefied natural gas (LNG), which Europe was forced to rely on after severing energy ties with Moscow.

NATO’s first post-Cold War expansion in 1999, driven largely by American policy, drew Moscow’s protests. But at the time, Russia—still reeling from the Soviet collapse—was too weak to resist. Since then, NATO has doubled in size—from 16 members to 32—with Sweden and Finland joining in direct response to Russia’s war in Ukraine. Russia today however stands on more solid ground than it did in the late 1990s.

Europe -and NATO- felt justified in welcoming new members to the alliance, arguing that it is purely defensive and voluntary, and therefore constitutes no threat to Russia. Moscow however looked at the missile systems -American missile systems- peppered throughout Europe as an imminent threat to its national security.

When it came to Ukraine therefore, Russia was adamant. There would be, under no circumstances, NATO membership for Kyiv, and no missile systems deployed there, and using this justification, Moscow also saw an opportunity to flex its geopolitical weight after a long period of weakness. By annexing Crimea in 2014, Putin shored up domestic support, positioning himself as a defender of ethnic Russians and a restorer of national pride—reclaiming a region Nikita Khrushchev had ceded to Ukraine in 1954 as part of Soviet territorial maneuvering.

Europe’s misstep wasn’t in its goals—it was in how it pursued them. By deferring to Washington on continental security and letting NATO dictate its strategic outlook, Europe adopted positions that weren’t necessarily aligned with its long-term interests. By the time war broke out in Ukraine, Europe had all but ceded its strategic autonomy to NATO, and by extension, to Washington. This reality is now dawning on European leaders—Germany’s newly elected chancellor has already called for European independence from the U.S.

However, with the outbreak of the war in Ukraine, European leaders severely reduced communication channels with Moscow, limiting engagements to a binary narrative of victory or defeat rather than potential diplomatic engagement. At the time, this policy was backed by the U.S. that had adopted a similar approach. However, with Trump’s victory in the elections and his swift decision to engage with Moscow, Europe recognized that it was suddenly left out of the discussion. Already, Washington and Mocow have begun high level discussions. After Trump and Putin spoke the U.S. Secretary of State has met with Lavrov in Riyadh—a significant step that signals that Washington has already effectively begun a bilateral dialogue with Moscow beyond the issue of Ukraine.

With the escalating conflict, the burdens imposed by the raised defense expenditure necessary to support Ukraine, and the strained economies due to rising energy costs, shifted Europe’s goalposts over time. This spurred escalating rhetoric by European leaders to match the required investment of resources to maintain their support for Ukraine. The unfortunate result of this for Europe is that it now stands at odds with the U.S. in its approach to Russia and the conflict, weakening its negotiating position.

The realization seems to be dawning on Zelensky that Europe’s position is too rigid to mediate any discussions with Moscow, and that Ukraine’s future may have to include other actors. While relying on Europe for its consistent backing, both military and economic, he is fully aware that any security guarantees absent the U.S. will not be sufficient. He has also reached out to other actors that have open channels with Moscow, including Ankara that has offered to host negotiations between Ukraine and Russia in the future.

Europe, for all its posturing, is boxing itself in.

A Turning Point

The coming weeks will define the next phase of the global order—one where Europe must decide whether to lead, follow, or be left behind. Europe is finally confronting the reality that it must wean itself off U.S. dependence. The question is whether it can pivot its grand strategy before it's too late. The March emergency summit presents Europe with a rare opening: a chance to rethink its approach to Russia and Ukraine, confront three years of strategic missteps, and secure its place at the negotiating table. If it fails to do so, its influence will only continue to erode.

Despite initial reluctance to include Europe, Moscow is now open to Europe’s contribution to the negotiations, a welcome development for Europe and one that the continent should seize. The door that Trump opened with his engagement with Putin has broken the stalemate that the continent faced during Biden’s tenure.

This war is no longer just about Ukraine. It is a test of the global order, a reshuffling of alliances, and a moment of reckoning for Europe. Will it secure a seat at the table, or will its rigid posturing turn it into a bystander? Washington has already recalibrated, reopening channels with Russia and shifting its strategic focus toward China. If Trump succeeds in normalizing ties with Moscow, where does that leave Europe—having staked everything on keeping Russia isolated? Will Europe double down on escalation, even as Washington moves toward dialogue? Or will it be forced into a reluctant climbdown, adopting an approach it spent years dismissing?

If Europe does not seize the initiative and set the terms of its own engagement with Moscow, those terms will be set by others. If Europe clings to its moral absolutism—preaching good versus evil—while Washington, Kyiv, Moscow, and Ankara engage in realpolitik, it won’t just be excluded from the talks. The future of Ukraine, and by extension European security, will be decided without it.

The tides are shifting, and the currents are strong. The only question left is whether Europe will steer its own course—or be swept away.