After nearly 1,000 days of resistance against Russia’s invasion, Ukraine’s allies seem to be losing patience and ideas. Western leaders, notably Germany’s Olaf Scholz and France’s Emmanuel Macron, are gently but increasingly urging Volodymyr Zelenskiy to “consider” the possibility of compromise with Vladimir Putin. After years of supporting Ukraine’s determination, it appears that the conversation is shifting toward peace—possibly because the demands of achieving a decisive victory are too daunting for many to accept.
Meanwhile, the re-election of Donald Trump looms large, promising a swift end to the war. Whether that’s through negotiation or sheer exhaustion remains anyone’s guess. Scholz reportedly urged Putin to engage in peace talks during a phone call, while Macron—ever the strategist—announced he’d call the Russian leader only “when the time is right.” One might wonder: If not now, when?
Two European officials hinted that Zelenskiy may eventually need to make concessions, acknowledging what has become painfully obvious to even the most optimistic onlookers: neither side is capable of securing a definitive victory anytime soon.
As the G20 summit approaches, the United States has made a surprising tactical shift, allowing Ukraine to strike limited targets within Russia using long-range missiles. This move, we are told, is meant to strengthen Zelenskiy’s bargaining position before Trump re-enters the Oval Office. The rationale is clear: arm Ukraine now so they can negotiate from a position of strength later. How noble. But it also smacks of a certain Western hypocrisy: after years of moralising about escalation, they are now conveniently shifting gears just as the geopolitical stakes rise.
Unsurprisingly, Moscow condemned the decision. Putin’s spokesperson, Dmitry Peskov, declared it a “new wave of tension.” Given that such “waves” have been washing over Europe for nearly three years, one might question whether this is anything new.
Zelenskiy, for his part, seemed blindsided by the announcement, complaining that such decisions “shouldn’t be leaked.” Even the scope of these new permissions falls short of Ukraine’s expectations, restricting strikes to the Kursk region. For a leader fighting for his country’s survival, this half-measure must feel less like strategic support and more like appeasement dressed in military garb.
Meanwhile, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, ever the opportunist, has thrown his hat into the peace-brokering ring. The Turkish president is reportedly set to propose freezing the conflict at its current lines during the G20 meeting in Rio de Janeiro. His plan? Demilitarise parts of eastern Ukraine and deploy international troops—essentially locking in Russian territorial gains while dangling vague promises of military support for Ukraine. One wonders how such a plan would sit with Kyiv—or with NATO members who might find themselves dragged into yet another protracted quagmire.
The renewed push for a resolution comes as Western allies scramble to pre-empt Trump’s likely cuts to US support for Ukraine. The prospect of North Korean troops bolstering Russian forces has only heightened this sense of urgency. It’s no secret that the conflict has drained Western coffers, destabilised Europe’s energy supplies, and tested alliances to their limits. Yet, despite Russia’s heavy losses, Putin remains as unyielding as ever, demanding any deal recognise Moscow’s “security concerns” and territorial claims.
To complicate matters further, Zelenskiy’s appeal for NATO membership—a cornerstone of his peace formula—clashes with Erdogan’s proposal to delay such discussions by at least a decade. For Ukraine, this must feel like yet another betrayal, while for some Western allies, it’s likely a welcome relief from the spectre of direct confrontation with Moscow. After all, it’s much easier to talk about security guarantees than to actually offer them.
Even as Macron condemned Putin’s unwillingness to negotiate, calling his intentions “escalatory,” Western leaders appear caught in their own contradictions. Having armed Ukraine and cheered its defiance, they are now signalling that peace might require Zelenskiy to cede significant ground—both figuratively and literally.
This Western schizophrenia on Ukraine is reflected in the G20 summit’s diplomatic posturing. The latest draft communiqué avoids directly condemning Russia, echoing the language from the New Delhi summit—a bitter pill for Zelenskiy and his G7 backers. At the same time, calls to stop bombing Ukraine’s energy infrastructure—deemed uncontroversial last year—have mysteriously vanished from this year’s agenda.
The irony is palpable: as North Korea reportedly prepares to send up to 100,000 troops to aid Putin, Western leaders seem more concerned about managing optics than outcomes. Erdogan’s intelligence reportedly suggests Ukraine could lose even more territory in the coming months if the fighting continues—a scenario that only strengthens Putin’s hand at the negotiating table.
For all the diplomatic theatrics, one truth remains clear: Zelenskiy faces a shrinking window of opportunity. The West’s resolve, once seemingly unshakeable, is now cracking under the weight of its own geopolitical fatigue. And as Trump prepares to bring his signature brand of unpredictability back to global politics, the message to Ukraine is both clear and chilling: settle now, before the rules of the game change entirely.