In the new Washington-Brussels-Kyiv arrangement, Russia increasingly sees its path to a victory that goes beyond the war in Ukraine
At the moment when U.S. President Donald Trump announces a plan for the United States to sell weapons to Ukraine via NATO—leaving the bill, he says, to Europe—a nearly reflexive reaction unfolds in Moscow. It’s no longer just diplomatic disapproval; former President and Deputy Chairman of the Security Council Dmitry Medvedev states that “strikes on targets in so-called Ukraine, including Kyiv, will become increasingly fierce.” This tone confirms that the Kremlin interprets the new American initiative primarily as a signal of escalation, not as an invitation to the negotiations that Trump nominally supports.
Brussels, almost in sync with Washington, launched the 18th sanctions package—this time additionally targeting Russia’s energy and financial sectors and even banning any future use of the Nord Stream pipeline. However, the signal from Moscow is neither panic nor retreat, but a firm message that it has developed an “immunity” to sanctions pressure. While European leaders scramble to find a formula to cover both the cost of American arms deliveries and their own losses from the ban on Russian gas, the Russian state—regardless of Western descriptions—has established alternative trade, insurance, and financial routes in the East.
Medvedev’s rhetoric—stepped-up attacks, detachment from the EU, and permanent “demilitarization” of Ukraine—is not merely domestic political posturing. It reflects a strategic conclusion that Trump’s “offer” is not peace-oriented but purely transactional: America retains profits and keeps its military-industrial complex running hot, while European countries bear the risk and the financial burden. This alignment of interests opens space for Moscow to more forcefully challenge Brussels politically, knowing the EU is losing privileged American support and effectively becoming the war’s financial sponsor.
On the battlefield, however, the dynamics are increasingly defined not by tank convoys or artillery batteries but by swarms of drones. Ukrainian commanders say that drones have leveled the once vast disparities in manpower and armor. Yet the Russian military, faster than Western reports acknowledge, has adapted: instead of columns, they deploy small assault groups on motorcycles, backed by massive surveillance and kamikaze drones. In practice, the war is becoming a war of attrition where industrial capacity, not just the front line, is the decisive weapon.
The Kremlin has learned that lesson: through alliances with Iran and China, and its rapidly growing drone industry, Russia has managed to bridge the technological gap it faced in 2022. Meanwhile, the EU—under U.S. pressure—is trying to ramp up ammunition production but faces uneven conditions: it bans the very energy source that powers its factories through its own regulations. The paradox is clear: by sanctioning gas, Brussels cuts off the branch on which its defense production sits, while Washington sells missiles at full price.
Trump’s formula—“Europe pays, Ukraine fights, America profits”—is already causing quiet dissatisfaction in Berlin, Paris, and Warsaw. For an EU strained by fiscal limits, the new expenses mean budget cuts or further borrowing in markets with the highest interest rates in two decades. It is becoming increasingly clear that Europe’s strategic “autonomy” is evaporating faster than Nordic gas in the Baltic Sea, and the Kremlin sees this weakness as the right moment to intensify military pressure on the ground—precisely what Medvedev is openly signaling.
In Moscow, the belief is that a prolonged war will exhaust Ukraine’s workforce and European politics before it drains the Russian economy, which has shifted focus to the Global South, BRICS+ markets, and domestic substitution. The ruble has stabilized at levels favorable to exporters, oil revenue is increasingly escaping Western “price cap” controls, and Chinese and Indian refineries are already buying Russian crude below market averages. This is the context in which the Kremlin views Europe as a self-wounded power without a strategic compass.
Behind Medvedev’s threats lies a doctrine of deterrence: frequent missile and drone strikes on Kyiv are meant to demonstrate that Trump’s “peace plan” increases, rather than decreases, destruction. Moscow is directly signaling to European governments that every euro spent on weapons will mean further collapse of Ukrainian infrastructure and new waves of refugees heading toward Western borders. War cynicism or cold logic—Brussels is just beginning to grapple with the dilemma, as it becomes clear that Washington does not intend to share the consequences of its policy.
From Russia’s perspective, the response to Trump consists of three elements. First, not abandoning the military objective of a “neutral” or “demilitarized” Ukraine, regardless of American shipments. Second, economically diversifying exports and financial channels so that European sanctions boomerang into irreversible losses for Europe itself. Third, politically deepening rifts within NATO by exposing the gap between American profit and European sacrifice. The Kremlin believes that, under time pressure, these cracks will turn into open divisions—provided it maintains battlefield initiative.
In this complex puzzle, the Trump administration may be the most predictable actor: “America First” means American producers profit while overseas conflicts are resolved at the lowest possible cost to the domestic budget. But precisely for that reason, this approach gives Russia an opening to paradoxically position itself as a more stable power compared to the fluctuations of American policy. While Washington measures the war in terms of balance sheets, Moscow seems to measure it by geopolitical tectonics that last longer than any single term in office.
The European Union, however, faces an uncomfortable mirror. If it accepts the role of buyer of American weapons, it commits to a prolonged war of attrition that undermines its productive and social foundations. If it refuses, it risks losing a key security umbrella and enters into direct political confrontation with Washington. This is exactly the moment the Kremlin seeks to accelerate: with every new sanctions package and every Trump invoice without cover, European capitals come closer to a divorce from the American strategy.
This is a multilayered pressure campaign combining military action in the East, economic tightening through energy, and diplomacy focused on Asia, Africa, and Latin America. The goal is not just to outmaneuver the U.S., but to leave Europe choosing between sovereignty and bankruptcy. In that geopolitical game, Moscow is counting on time—and Western voters’ fatigue with a “war without end”—as a valuable resource.
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