DR GUL.I. AYESHA BHATTI
In global politics, moments of transition are more important than moments of certainty. Wars do not end because one side changes its mind; they end when power, fatigue, and opportunity align. The renewed discussion around Donald Trump’s peace initiative on Ukraine comes at such a moment. For much of the West, it has sparked anxiety and debate. For Moscow, it has created space for new calculations, and in international relations, space often matters more than clarity.
Russia’s interest in Trump’s proposed peace plan should not be mistaken for enthusiasm for compromise or a retreat from its strategic goals. Instead, it reflects a careful approach shaped by realism, power politics, and a long-standing skepticism of Western intentions. From Moscow’s view, the peace plan is less about ending the war on Western terms and more about reshaping the diplomatic landscape for future power negotiations.
To understand this, one must look beyond personalities and rhetoric and focus on interests. Trump’s peace initiative arrives at a time of rising fatigue in the West. After years of war, economic strain, and political division, Washington and its European allies are increasingly divided over how long and at what cost they can support Ukraine. Trump’s proposal reflects this reality. It emphasizes ending the conflict, reducing costs, and stabilizing geopolitics rather than pushing ideological narratives.
At the core of Russia’s position lies a consistent set of demands that have been articulated repeatedly since 2014 and formalized since 2022. These include recognition of Russia’s control over territories it considers strategically and historically vital, binding guarantees that Ukraine will not join NATO, and a fundamental rethinking of Europe’s security architecture, one that no longer treats Russia as a peripheral or hostile actor.
The territories in question, Crimea, Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson are not merely as zones of military occupation but as regions with deep historical, linguistic, and cultural ties to Russia. These areas are predominantly Russian speaking, economically integrated with Russia, and were administratively transferred to Ukraine during the Soviet period without popular consent. The Kremlin claims that the post-2014 Ukrainian state failed to protect the political and cultural rights of these populations, creating conditions that justified special military operation under the logic of self-determination and security necessity.
This brings the discussion back to NATO and to what President Putin has consistently described as Western deception. Russian leaders argue that during the 1990 negotiations over German reunification, Western officials gave political assurances that NATO would not expand eastward. President Putin has cited remarks by then U.S. Secretary of State James Baker in February 1990, who spoke of NATO moving “not one inch eastward,” as emblematic of commitments later abandoned. NATO’s subsequent enlargement across Eastern Europe and its growing military cooperation with Ukraine was not merely a strategic shift but a moral breach of trust. This sense of betrayal has become central to Russia’s worldview and is frequently referenced in official speeches, most notably Putin’s 2007 address at the Munich Security Conference, which marked a turning point in Russia’s relations with the West.
It is against this background that Moscow views President Trump’s approach with cautious interest. Unlike previous US administrations, Trump has openly questioned NATO’s expansion, criticized the alliance’s internal imbalances, and acknowledged Russia’s security concerns at least rhetorically. His proposed peace plan, which reportedly includes freezing the conflict along current lines and pushing Kyiv toward negotiations, aligns more closely with Russia’s de facto realities on the ground than with Washington’s long-standing maximalist positions.
However, Moscow remains skeptical. Russian analysts recall that US foreign policy has often been constrained less by presidential intent than by institutional inertia, congressional pressure, and entrenched security elites. Even during Trump’s first term, US–Russia relations failed to meaningfully reset, as sanctions expanded and diplomatic channels narrowed. From Moscow’s viewpoint, Trump’s willingness to negotiate is significant but insufficient without structural guarantees.
For Europe, the very fact that dialogue is again being discussed marks a departure from the liberal order that has dominated Western discourse since 2022. Russian officials argue that peace cannot be achieved through slogans about sovereignty alone, but through reciprocal recognition of security interests. In this sense, Trump’s transactional worldview often criticized in western liberal circles may offer space for pragmatic understanding.
On Ukraine, Moscow’s position in any talks with the US is likely to remain firm. Russia will seek acknowledgment of territorial realities, neutrality guarantees for Ukraine, and limits on NATO’s military infrastructure near its borders. In return, Russia may signal openness to ceasefire arrangements, humanitarian corridors, and broader arms control discussions. Such negotiations would not be framed as concessions, but as stabilization measures between major powers. More broadly, US–Russia relations under a potential second Trump presidency would likely remain competitive, but less ideologically charged. Moscow does not expect an alliance or even a true rapprochement. Instead, it seeks predictability, mutual restraint, and respect for multipolar international system in which states acknowledge each other’s core security concerns without pushing unilateral dominance. For Russia, the Ukraine conflict has already redrawn the global order. The question now is whether the United States, under Trump or otherwise, is prepared to engage with this new reality or continue pursuing a strategy that Moscow views as both destabilizing and unsustainable.
