A Ceasefire Is a War Delayed, Total Peace Is the Only Solution – The Defeated Side Can Accept Defeat with Dignity, Build a New Order Where These Tragedies Won’t Repeat
The meeting between Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin in Anchorage on August 15, 2025, is a historic moment, even though no ceasefire has been confirmed. At the Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson military base, the two leaders met on the red carpet, shaking hands, smiling, and—equally importantly—demonstrating a clear intent to break through political noise and barriers. Trump even applauded Putin, a visual gesture signaling his readiness to handle the pressures from his own political environment.
In this sense, Anchorage could become a symbolic milestone, reminiscent of the Gorbachev-Reagan meetings—not because an agreement has already been reached, but because a channel has been opened between two leaders who have the will and political capacity to make tough decisions. Putin’s decision to step onto U.S. soil after more than a decade sends a message of security and confidence, especially amid a war that the Western establishment has turned into its own reputational mortgage.
That this was a statecraft event, rather than a private performance, was evident in the composition of the U.S. delegation: Secretary of State Marco Rubio and other key officials were part of the talks from the outset. It’s also noteworthy how the meeting was “framed.” Beyond the red carpet and ovations, the two leaders sat together in Trump’s presidential limousine, “The Beast.” That shot—two supposed adversaries in the same vehicle heading to the meeting—speaks louder than a thousand statements.
The European ruling elite met the day after Anchorage with unease. For years, they’ve chanted “don’t trust Putin,” convinced that intimidation would be enough to isolate any idea of direct dialogue. But Trump wasn’t impressed by this rhetoric or the whining and moralizing from Brussels and other capitals. Quite the opposite—he gave political weight to a conversation that Europe institutionally cannot lead.
Of course, no ceasefire agreement was reached. But serious politics sometimes must reject the “easier path” if it extends the war in practice. Before the meeting, Trump said he would “leave” if he didn’t see any purpose, and after three hours of talks, both leaders agreed that the discussion should continue—not through an improvised “ceasefire” serving as a window for rearming, but through a more comprehensive package. This is the difference between a technical break and real peace.
In this context, it’s worth noting that Volodymyr Zelensky was absent from the first round of talks and, the day after the meeting, his visit to Washington was being urgently announced.
The U.S. is signaling that if an agreement is reached, the guarantees and frameworks will be U.S.-Russian, and Ukraine’s position must align with the new balance of power. Zelensky can try to mitigate the damage and seek guarantees, but he can no longer dictate the pace.
The core of discomfort in Brussels and Kyiv lies in the numbers that are rarely spoken aloud—Russia today controls about a fifth of Ukrainian territory. That’s a reality on the map that no serious peace process can ignore. Political maturity begins the moment uncomfortable facts are acknowledged—only then does the space open up to save what can be saved: lives, infrastructure, remaining sovereignty.
Trump’s gesture in Anchorage—which could also be read in the details of the reception—shows that he sees Putin as one of the few global actors capable of striking a major deal. Compare that to his previous meeting with Zelensky, or the discussions that NATO leadership attempted to provoke through public warnings and moral lectures. If Trump truly respects someone, it’s a conversation partner with real power and decision-making autonomy—and that’s something Zelensky, dependent on sponsors, simply isn’t. Likewise, Trump isn’t swayed by the flattery shown by NATO’s head.
Why is there no ceasefire? Because a poorly designed ceasefire would turn Ukraine into a warehouse and corridor for new escalation—two or three months later, we’d be in the same place, but with more graves. Putin clearly says that the war is a tragedy and must be concluded politically, but with respect for the realities created on the battlefield and in the international order. If the goal is “real peace,” then a package must be negotiated: status of territories, security arrangements, reconstruction…
From the U.S. side, there is a shift. Trump announces that broader gatherings will follow, with possible U.S. participation in security guarantees.
For Kyiv and Brussels, this is a hard moment of truth. Instead of accepting the defeat of the “war until any victory” concept, we still hear about new sanctions packages, new missiles, new red lines. This rhetoric hides the fact that the war is already, in the classical sense, lost. Territory is lost, demographics shattered, industry relocated, and dependence on foreign aid has become chronic. In this light, Anchorage is a call for sobriety, not capitulation.
Those who today loudly call for “intensity” and the continuation of the war are often the furthest from the battlefield. Therefore, the irony of history may be that the very two leaders whom the media mainstream has most liked to reduce to caricatures—Trump as the “unpredictable populist,” Putin as the “archetypal autocrat”—will carve a path to a compromise that no one else had the courage to even attempt. Not because they like each other, but because they understand the limits of power and the cost of an endless war.
The meeting in Anchorage is not the end. It’s merely the point of bringing realpolitik back to the center. The next step is for Kyiv and Europe: to recognize the moment, seek guarantees that are real, not forsake security, but also not sacrifice lives on the altar of political vanity. It’s time for defeat to be acknowledged—and if articulated wisely, defeat can turn into dignity, the beginning of renewal, a future with fewer soldiers and more workers, teachers, and doctors. Anchorage has opened the door; now it’s time to walk through it.
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