The White House deserves credit for revitalizing diplomacy to end the war in Ukraine. However, in its haste for a deal, its proposals have too often looked indistinguishable from a surrender on Russia’s terms. If the US wants to secure a lasting peace, it would need to put forward a more credible offer — and, most importantly, increase the pressure on Russian President Vladimir Putin to accept.
US negotiators have offered up a ceasefire plan that would leave Russia in de facto control of almost all the Ukrainian territory it currently occupies, multiple news reports have said. In addition to land, Putin would win substantial sanctions relief. The US might also formally recognize Crimea, which Russia illegally annexed in 2014.
Ukraine would be allowed to maintain its military but be offered only vague security guarantees, to be enforced by an ad hoc coalition of allies (not including the US). For at least the duration of US President Donald Trump’s administration, it would be barred from joining NATO. Further details would be negotiated after the guns fall silent.
Despite such a favorable offer, Putin seems in no hurry to end his invasion, continuing to demand all four Ukrainian regions he only partially controls. For their part, Ukrainian leaders rightly argue that they need a clearer pledge of continued US military support: not necessarily boots on the ground, but air defense systems, help with cybersecurity and intelligence, and a US backstop for any allied peacekeeping troops. Otherwise any pause is likely to last only as long as it takes Russia to rebuild its forces. The agreement signed on Wednesday to give the US privileged access to Ukraine’s mineral resources is no substitute.
The White House ought to keep two things in mind. First, it cannot expect Ukrainians simply to accept a capitulation they anticipate would lead to a renewed assault. While they have little hope of ejecting Russian forces in the near term, their defenses have been stout. The country now has Europe’s largest standing army and manufactures many of its own weapons. Its people are weary of war but not ready to give in.
Second, Russia’s advantages are not as decisive as they appear. Over the past three years, its troops have advanced slowly and at enormous cost. Its war economy is straining under high inflation, labor shortages, soaring interest rates and dwindling foreign reserves.
After purportedly topping 4 percent last year, growth has sputtered to about zero, data compiled by Goldman Sachs Group Inc showed. Lower oil prices have dented a major source of budget revenue. The longer the war drags on, the greater the risk of economic collapse and social unrest at home. Putin has good reason to seek a deal — and reason to fear US pressure if he does not.
US officials have implied that they have presented their final offer and are prepared to “walk away” if the two sides cannot agree. Certainly, that would be wiser than underwriting a sham settlement that rewards aggression and invites future wars.
However, a better strategy would be to make clear the US is willing to provide logistical help to peacekeepers on the ground, continued aid for Ukraine’s military and defense industries, and backing for the country’s integration into Europe’s security architecture and eventual membership in the EU.
Simultaneously, US officials should let the Kremlin know that if it continues to balk, the US would further tighten sanctions, including secondary measures against buyers of Russian oil, and take steps to strengthen Ukraine’s ability to defend itself. US military aid and intelligence would flow unimpeded.
No matter what deal he signs now, Putin would likely continue to view Ukraine as Russian and Ukrainians’ freedom as a threat. To endure, any peace agreement must therefore include a substantive deterrent against future aggression. The US ought to provide it.
The Editorial Board publishes the views of the editors across a range of national and global affairs.
China has not been a top-tier issue for much of the second Trump administration. Instead, Trump has focused considerable energy on Ukraine, Israel, Iran, and defending America’s borders. At home, Trump has been busy passing an overhaul to America’s tax system, deporting unlawful immigrants, and targeting his political enemies. More recently, he has been consumed by the fallout of a political scandal involving his past relationship with a disgraced sex offender. When the administration has focused on China, there has not been a consistent throughline in its approach or its public statements. This lack of overarching narrative likely reflects a combination
Father’s Day, as celebrated around the world, has its roots in the early 20th century US. In 1910, the state of Washington marked the world’s first official Father’s Day. Later, in 1972, then-US president Richard Nixon signed a proclamation establishing the third Sunday of June as a national holiday honoring fathers. Many countries have since followed suit, adopting the same date. In Taiwan, the celebration takes a different form — both in timing and meaning. Taiwan’s Father’s Day falls on Aug. 8, a date chosen not for historical events, but for the beauty of language. In Mandarin, “eight eight” is pronounced
US President Donald Trump’s alleged request that Taiwanese President William Lai (賴清德) not stop in New York while traveling to three of Taiwan’s diplomatic allies, after his administration also rescheduled a visit to Washington by the minister of national defense, sets an unwise precedent and risks locking the US into a trajectory of either direct conflict with the People’s Republic of China (PRC) or capitulation to it over Taiwan. Taiwanese authorities have said that no plans to request a stopover in the US had been submitted to Washington, but Trump shared a direct call with Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平)
It is difficult to think of an issue that has monopolized political commentary as intensely as the recall movement and the autopsy of the July 26 failures. These commentaries have come from diverse sources within Taiwan and abroad, from local Taiwanese members of the public and academics, foreign academics resident in Taiwan, and overseas Taiwanese working in US universities. There is a lack of consensus that Taiwan’s democracy is either dying in ashes or has become a phoenix rising from the ashes, nurtured into existence by civic groups and rational voters. There are narratives of extreme polarization and an alarming