EDITORIAL: Zelensky Extends a Hand, Putin Spits on It: Diplomacy Faces a Wall of Russian Contempt

Statements That Sound Like Gestures of Goodwill but Are Not

Putin’s June 23 statement about his “preparation for talks” based on “Istanbul 2022” was immediately portrayed by pro-Moscow media as a significant gesture of goodwill. The ISW analyzed it that same day and reached the opposite conclusion: these are “2022 war aims” reaffirmed in diplomatic packaging. But between the headline of the news report (“Putin Ready to Negotiate”) and the reality behind that headline lies a chasm that many hurried readers fail to cross.

Alongside these “diplomatic” statements, Russian forces continued to strike Ukraine. Civilian infrastructure was targeted. Civilians have been killed. The front lines have remained a scene of daily violence. A party that truly wants peace would not strike civilian cities on the very same day it announces its “readiness for talks.” This behavior—talking about peace while continuing to strike—is the clearest sign that Russia’s statements are political rhetoric, not sincere diplomacy.

The Agenda of Division: Using Diplomacy to Weaken the Western Alliance

Russia’s peace declarations serve a specific strategic goal: to divide the Western alliance supporting Ukraine. If certain European countries sincerely believe that Russia is “ready to negotiate,” they might pressure Kyiv to “seize the opportunity.” If this pressure is strong enough, it could force Ukraine to sit down at the negotiating table under unfavorable terms—and Putin would achieve without a fight what he was unable to achieve militarily.

This scenario is not hypothetical: it partially played out in 2015 with the Minsk II Agreements, which Ukraine signed under pressure from France and Germany and which Russia failed to honor. The memory of Minsk is still fresh in Ukrainian diplomatic circles—which is precisely why Kyiv is so cautious about the terms of any negotiations. Having experienced this once is enough to understand that the words “agreement” and “peace” mean very little if the other party decides not to honor them.

Russia’s divide-and-conquer strategy is transparent but effective. It worked with the Minsk Agreements. It could work again if Western leaders do not keep the lesson of 2015 in mind. Historical memory is a diplomatic weapon. Ukraine is using it. Its allies should do the same.

Why Putin Rejects Diplomatic Fairness

Beyond strategies and calculations, there is something more fundamental at play in Putin’s behavior toward Ukrainian diplomacy: contempt. Not the ordinary emotional contempt between enemies—something more systemic and revealing. Putin does not accept Zelensky as a legitimate counterpart. He does not recognize Ukraine as a sovereign state with rights equal to those of Russia. He speaks of negotiating “with the Ukrainians” as if he were addressing a population that needs to be saved from its leaders rather than a state whose elected representatives possess a democratic legitimacy that he himself lacks.

This contempt is not rhetorical: it is structural. Putin’s statement that Ukraine is an artificial construct, that “Ukrainians and Russians are one people,” and that the leaders in Kyiv are “nationalists” or “Nazis”—all these statements deny the very legitimacy of the negotiating partner. How can one negotiate in good faith with someone whom one does not accept as a legitimate partner? One cannot. And that is precisely what Putin is doing.

Contempt as an Explicit Political Choice

This contempt is an explicit political choice, not an unintended consequence of the war. Putin has constructed a narrative in which Ukraine can only be right if it agrees to be absorbed into the Russian sphere of influence. Any Ukraine that resists is, by definition, “under Western influence,” “denazified,” or “artificial.” This narrative allows him to avoid ever having to acknowledge that Ukraine has legitimate grievances, that its resistance is just, or that its peace proposals deserve a serious response.

The practical result of this structural contempt is that every Ukrainian diplomatic gesture is either ignored, recharacterized as Western manipulation, or turned into an argument for maintaining maximum demands. When Zelenskyy proposes direct talks, Putin says he cannot speak to people who have “banned” negotiations (a reference to a 2022 Ukrainian decision that itself was a response to the atrocities in Bucha). When Ukraine releases Russian prisoners, this is not presented as a humanitarian gesture but as a wartime obligation. Ukrainian good faith cannot penetrate a narrative that has disqualified it from the outset.

Putin’s contempt for Ukraine’s legitimacy is the philosophical root of this entire war. Recognizing that Ukraine is a sovereign state with rights equivalent to those of Russia would call his entire project into question. That is why he cannot acknowledge it—not even in private, not even in theory. This impossibility is the real obstacle to peace.

Real Support: Undeniable but Insufficient

Western support for Ukraine is real and substantial. The United States, the European Union, the United Kingdom, and others have provided billions in military and economic aid. Sanctions have weakened the Russian economy. Military training has strengthened Ukraine’s capabilities. The NATO Summit in Ankara on July 7–8, 2026, is expected to announce additional defense spending commitments. All of this is real.

But this support has limits that Kyiv is feeling acutely. Arms deliveries are still subject to delays and restrictions that limit the use of certain systems on Russian territory. Sanctions have loopholes—notably the Druzhba pipeline and bypass routes. The promised reconstruction aid has been slow to materialize. And above all, Ukraine’s accession to NATO—the only true guarantee of long-term security—remains contingent on conditions for which no timeline has been specified. This gap between declared support and actual support is one of the deepest sources of frustration on the Ukrainian side.

The Temptation of an Imposed Compromise

In some Western capitals, there is a growing temptation to find a “way out” of the conflict that is politically viable for the relevant electorates—even if that solution is not fair to Ukraine. This temptation manifests itself in phrases such as “peace before victory,” “geopolitical realism requires compromise,” or “we cannot afford a permanent war.” These phrases, generally well-intentioned, lead to the same implicit conclusion: Ukraine should accept some of Russia’s demands to facilitate an agreement.

What these phrases ignore—whether deliberately or out of naivety—is that Russia’s demands are not “some” and “others”—they are all or nothing. Either Ukraine is sovereign over its territory, or it is not. Either it has the right to choose its alliances, or it does not. There is no “compromise” on these issues that does not, in practice, amount to sacrificing Ukrainian sovereignty. And a Ukraine whose sovereignty is compromised is not at peace—it is in a precarious armistice awaiting the next act of aggression.

Western leaders who speak of “compromise” give me the impression that they are talking about a house where there are two problems to be solved on equal terms. That is not the situation. There is an aggressor and a victim. “Compromises” in this context mean that the victim pays part of the bill. That is called partial capitulation, not peace.

Pressure from All Sides

Zelensky is facing conflicting pressures of an intensity that few leaders have ever had to deal with. On the Ukrainian side: an exhausted population that wants an end to the bombings, families of fallen soldiers demanding that their sacrifice be meaningful, an economy on life support from international aid, and military decisions to be made amid constant uncertainty. From the West: allies who offer support but with conditions, conflicting messages about the level of support available, and pressure to “show flexibility.” From the enemy: daily strikes, veiled calls for surrender, and an intense information war.

Amid this context of maximum pressure, Zelensky has maintained remarkable political consistency for the past four years. He has not yielded to pressure to sign a Minsk III agreement. He has not dramatically shifted his positions under economic pressure. He has kept prisoner exchanges a priority without linking them to political issues. He has rejected the Istanbul terms while remaining open to diplomacy. This consistency in the face of adversity is a form of leadership that history will likely judge more favorably than that of many of his contemporaries.

The Vulnerability of Ukraine’s Position

Recognizing Zelenskyy’s consistency does not mean ignoring the vulnerability of Ukraine’s position. It is real and multifaceted. Military fatigue is real—four years of intense warfare have taken their toll on personnel, equipment, and morale. Economic strain is real—the Ukrainian economy functions largely thanks to international support, and any reduction in that support would be destabilizing. Social strain is real—no one can live indefinitely under bombardment without it leaving deep scars.

These vulnerabilities do not alter the validity of Ukraine’s position. But they require reflection on the sustainability of the resistance and on what allies must do to strengthen it. An exhausted and under-supported Ukraine is not a Ukraine that can achieve a just peace. It is a Ukraine that could be forced to accept conditions it legitimately rejects today. The allies’ responsibility is not merely to provide support now—it is to provide support for long enough that Russian economic pressure brings about the shift in calculus that would make genuine negotiations possible.

I refuse to indulge in facile triumphalism regarding Ukrainian resistance. It is real and admirable. It is also exhausting and costly. What should concern the West is the possibility that one day Ukraine’s exhaustion will be great enough to force concessions that the situation does not warrant. Preventing that moment requires much more sustained support than we are currently seeing.

Real but Incomplete Economic Pressure

The European Union proposed its 21st sanctions package on June 27, 2026. The economic pressure on Russia is well-documented and real: a deficit of over $80 billion, soaring military spending of an additional 4–5 trillion rubles, and bond yields at 15%. These figures all point to the Russian economy being under significant pressure. But as The Economist noted on June 22, this pressure is not yet sufficient to trigger a collapse.

This disconnect between real economic pressure and a lack of change in political behavior illustrates a principle of economic coercion: sanctions create constraints, but they do not automatically bring about political change. Putin may choose to continue his war even under difficult economic conditions, as long as the domestic political cost is not unbearable. The central question is: at what level of economic deterioration will Putin’s calculations change? The honest answer is that no one knows.

What Is Still Missing from the Economic Pressure

What is missing to maximize this pressure: a total oil embargo (the Baltic states continue to demand what Brussels continues to postpone), secondary sanctions on the most active third-party intermediaries, and the full seizure of frozen Russian assets for Ukraine’s reconstruction. These measures would have a significant additional economic impact. They would make Putin’s position even more difficult to sustain. And they would send a strong political signal: the West is serious about making Russia pay the price for its aggression.

Without these measures, the sanctions regime remains what it has been for twenty rounds: real pressure, but with a hole in the pipe. Zelenskyy knows this. He speaks about it. His allies should listen to him more closely—not to please him, but because he is right.

There is something absurd about the fact that Zelensky, who leads a country at war, must regularly remind his allies at peace that they are not doing enough. The asymmetry of risk is troubling: Ukraine pays in blood, while the West pays in money and economic hardship. Fairness in this relationship should demand a more comprehensive commitment.

No Guarantees, No Lasting Peace

At the heart of the entire debate on Ukrainian diplomacy lies a question that no one really wants to answer: What security guarantee can Ukraine have that is both real and credible? NATO membership is the logical answer—it is the only guarantee that has demonstrated, over the past 70 years, its ability to deter aggression. But it is blocked by political considerations within the Alliance, notably the fear of being immediately drawn into a war with Russia if Ukraine were to join NATO during the current conflict.

The alternatives—such as “bilateral security agreements” or “guarantees” from individual countries—are less robust substitutes whose deterrent credibility cannot be assessed without having been tested in a real crisis. The 1994 Budapest Memorandum was such a substitute—and it was ignored. A second memorandum without a binding enforcement mechanism would be an insult to the memory of the betrayal of 1994.

The NATO Solution: Difficult but Essential

Ukraine’s accession to NATO is difficult to achieve under current conditions—I acknowledge that. But it is essential as a long-term goal. Any peace framework that does not include a credible prospect for membership and a timeline for accession is a framework that leaves Ukraine in a security gray zone—precisely the gray zone that Putin wants to maintain, because it preserves his option for future aggression.

The Ankara Summit in July 2026 is an opportunity to clarify this commitment. If NATO can commit to a timeline for Ukraine’s accession contingent on the cessation of hostilities—an “admission after peace” accompanied by robust interim security guarantees—that would change the diplomatic calculus. It would send a message to Putin: even if you “gain” ground now, Ukraine will eventually be in NATO. This prospect could alter his calculations regarding the value of continuing the war.

The NATO issue is the topic everyone avoids because it’s difficult. But difficult issues don’t go away just because we avoid them—they come back, in forms that are even harder to deal with. Ukraine’s NATO membership is the central issue for European security in the coming decades. We must address it now.

U.S.-Ukraine Relations Under Trump

Diplomacy surrounding the war cannot be analyzed without addressing the Trump factor. The Trump administration has an unpredictable relationship with Ukraine—at times signaling continued support, at other times suggesting that a quick peace deal (on any terms) would be preferable to the continuation of the conflict. According to The Guardian on June 27, 2026, Hegseth mentioned a six-month review of the U.S. presence in Europe and threatened to reduce U.S. contributions to NATO—creating real anxiety among European allies.

For Zelensky, managing this variable is a diplomatic challenge of the highest order. Trump responds to strength and results—a Ukraine that can demonstrate military and economic successes is more likely to maintain his support than a Ukraine that appears to be treading water. This is part of the reason why the 40-day campaign is also a political message aimed at Washington: to demonstrate that Ukraine is capable of taking the initiative and achieving results, not just passive resistance.

Europe Stepping Up to the Plate

American uncertainty has had a paradoxically positive effect: it has pushed Europe to take on more responsibility for its own support of Ukraine. The increase in European defense spending, the consolidation of the defense industry, and discussions about a European security guarantee for Ukraine—all of this has accelerated precisely because U.S. reliability is no longer guaranteed. In this sense, Trump is a necessary evil for Europe: he is forcing a strategic maturity that might otherwise have taken decades to develop under normal circumstances.

This European maturity is one of the necessary conditions for serious peace diplomacy. A Europe that can guarantee the security of its eastern borders on its own—with or without the United States—is a Europe that can negotiate with Russia from a position of real strength, not from one of dependence and supplication. Building this Europe is the project for the coming years. And the conflict in Ukraine is its first full-scale test.

Trump is the accidental catalyst for a Europe that takes its own defense more seriously. This may be his only positive legacy in this matter. I am wary of the notion that all’s well that ends well—too many lives have been lost in this war for the long-term strategic benefits to compensate for them. But the emerging European maturity is a fact worth noting.

The Battle of Narratives

Beyond the physical and economic battlefields, there is an information war that Putin is waging with equal intensity. Statements about Istanbul, about “preparations for talks,” and about “Western responsibility” for the continuation of the conflict—all of this is weaponized information. The goal is to shape global public opinion in a way that erodes support for Ukraine and creates pressure for an agreement on Russia’s terms.

This information war has had some partial success. In some countries of the Global South, the Russian narrative of “resistance to Western hegemony” has resonated. In some European countries, the narrative that “Putin is ready to negotiate, but Ukraine refuses” has begun to circulate. These perceptions are factually inaccurate—Russia’s positions amount to a demand for Ukraine’s surrender—but they are circulating and influencing real political debates.

The response: clarity, consistency, persistence

The response to this information war cannot be symmetrical counter-propaganda. It must be analytical clarity: factually deconstructing Russian narratives, as the ISW did on June 23, as Meduza does, and as this editorial modestly attempts to do. This clarity requires consistency over time—not repeating Russian narratives without critiquing them—and persistence—continuing to speak the truth even when fatigue sets in.

Zelensky is doing his part in this battle. His regular addresses to global public opinion, his appearances at international forums, and his presence on social media—all of this constitutes effective political communication that keeps the reality of the situation in Ukraine in the public eye. What he cannot do alone is convince the electorates in countries where he is not the leader. That is the responsibility of the governments and media in those countries.

The information war is won in newsrooms, in university classrooms, and in everyday conversations. Every time a journalist, a professor, or a citizen takes the time to verify what “Istanbul” really means, it’s a small victory in that war. It’s modest. It’s essential.

What Ukraine Must Be Prepared to Accept

A just peace does not mean that Ukraine would have no compromises to make. I want to be honest about this. A real peace—with credible security guarantees, the prospect of NATO membership, reparations, and a mechanism for justice for war crimes—could involve painful concessions for Ukraine. Perhaps a delay before certain territories are recovered. Perhaps an international monitoring mechanism for disputed areas during a transitional period. These scenarios are difficult to assess without knowing the details of a final agreement.

What Ukraine cannot accept—and what its allies must support in this refusal—is a peace that compromises its fundamental sovereignty: a peace without real security guarantees, a peace that leaves Russian forces on its territory without a legal framework for withdrawal, a peace that recognizes illegal annexations as permanent, or a peace that limits its defensive armed forces to levels that render it incapable of defending itself. This is not intransigence—it is the bare minimum for a sovereign state.

What Russia Must Be Prepared to Accept for True Peace

The list is longer on the Russian side, and for good reason—it was Russia that committed the aggression. A genuine peace requires: the withdrawal of Russian forces from occupied Ukrainian territories (at the very least, a defined and binding timeline); the release of all prisoners and deported civilians; acceptance of an international justice mechanism for war crimes committed; an end to attacks on Ukrainian civilian infrastructure; and formal recognition of Ukraine’s right to choose its alliances.

These demands are in accordance with international law. They are not excessive—they correspond to what is expected of any state that has committed an act of aggression and seeks to resolve it. Russia’s resistance to these conditions is not diplomacy: it is a refusal to accept the consequences of its own actions. It is this refusal that constitutes the wall of contempt against which Zelensky is up against. And it is this wall that the international community must continue to chip away at, patiently and persistently, until it crumbles.

I know that many readers will find this editorial too one-sided. I accept that criticism. But I turn it around: an editorial that treated the peace demands of an aggressor and the peace demands of a victim equally would itself be an act of injustice. There are situations where equidistance is a moral failing.

A Plan Based on the Weariness of Democracies

Vladimir Putin has always built his strategy in Ukraine on a calculation of timing: that the weariness of Western democracies will eventually outweigh their solidarity with Kyiv. This calculation is not irrational—democracies have elections, fluctuating public opinion, and fragile governing coalitions. Putin is right to bet on fatigue. He is wrong to believe that it is inevitable.

The information war is an integral part of this strategy. By sowing doubt about Ukraine’s chances of victory, by magnifying divisions within Western alliances, and by amplifying voices calling for “compromises”—the Kremlin’s media machine works to undermine Western support far more effectively than its missiles. Meduza, the ISW’s analyses, and journalists who expose these manipulations play an essential role in information defense.

NATO’s Credibility After Ankara

The NATO Summit in Ankara on July 7–8, 2026, will be a test of the alliance’s credibility in the face of Russian information operations. If NATO can demonstrate unity on defense spending, support for Ukraine, and security guarantees—even if immediate membership is not possible—it will undermine the Russian narrative of “Western fatigue.”

The statement by NATO leaders that their countries “can no longer rely on the United States,” according to The Guardian on June 27, 2026, illustrates the real tensions within the Alliance in the face of American uncertainty under Trump. These tensions are real and must be managed. But they must not be allowed to escalate unchecked—every unhealed crack in NATO’s facade is exploited by Russian propaganda.

I am wary of the “doomscrollers” of the Western alliance—those who see every disagreement among allies as proof that everything is about to collapse. NATO has survived many crises since 1949. But I am also wary of those who downplay the real tensions. The truth lies somewhere in the middle: the alliance is under pressure, it is holding up, and it must be actively strengthened rather than passively defended.

Oil Revenues as the Engine of the War Machine

To understand the war in Ukraine, one must understand how it is financed. Russia’s budget deficit will exceed $80 billion by June 2026, according to United24 Media, but this figure masks a more complex reality: Russia is financing a costly war by spending beyond its revenues, drawing on its reserves, and borrowing at rising rates—Russian government bonds are yielding 15%. This is sustainable in the short term. It is not sustainable in the long term.

Oil revenues, which normally account for 30 to 40% of the Russian federal budget, are directly affected by Ukrainian strikes on refineries. The Kapotnya refinery in Moscow and the Bashneft plants in Ufa, which were hit in June 2026, are reducing Russia’s refining capacity and thus the value added that Moscow can extract from its crude oil. This is an economic war waged by Ukrainian drones.

The multiplier effect of cumulative sanctions

Economists studying the impact of sanctions on the Russian economy emphasize the importance of cumulative effects. Each of the 21 rounds of European sanctions has a limited impact on its own. But their accumulation over four years has created structural pressure that is now manifesting in macroeconomic data that is troubling for Moscow: a 0.2% contraction in GDP in Q1 2026, IMF forecasts revised to just 0.8% growth, and a persistent capital flight.

The Kiel Institute has documented this “structural exhaustion” of the Russian economy—not an immediate collapse, but a gradual and potentially irreversible deterioration. Russian companies that had survived the initial sanctions by finding more costly alternatives are now beginning to absorb additional costs related to refinancing constraints, the depreciation of the ruble, and shortages of specialized technologies. These cumulative effects are the most difficult to measure and the most powerful over the long term.

Economists who argue that sanctions “aren’t working” because they haven’t caused an immediate collapse seem to me to be missing something essential: sanctions are a tool for applying long-term pressure, not a time bomb. Their effectiveness is measured in years, not weeks. And on that timescale, the data from June 2026 is encouraging.

The Political Stalemate Over Membership

Ukraine’s accession to NATO is the strongest security guarantee available—and it has been politically stalled for years. The main obstacle is no longer formal opposition from member states (even Hungary has finally stopped explicitly blocking it), but rather a collective hesitation among the Alliance’s major members over the risk of being drawn into a direct war with Russia if Ukraine were admitted while the conflict is ongoing.

This hesitation is understandable but dangerous. It leaves Ukraine in a security gray zone—precisely the zone that Putin wants to maintain, because it preserves his option for future aggression. The paradox is cruel: it is the risk of a confrontation with Russia that is preventing Ukraine’s accession, and it is the lack of accession that makes the next Russian aggression more likely.

The German Model as a Historical Precedent

History offers a relevant precedent: the Federal Republic of Germany joined NATO in 1955, at a time when the USSR was directly threatening military escalation. The decision was made despite these risks, and it helped stabilize Western Europe for decades to come. Collective deterrence worked—not because the risk of conflict was absent, but because the cost of aggression was made prohibitive.

The argument that Ukraine “cannot” join NATO during the war strikes me as circular: if membership is the best deterrent against war, preventing it during the war amounts to leaving the deterrent out of service precisely when it is needed most. The Ankara Summit is an opportunity to break free from this circular logic. With a formal promise of post-conflict membership and serious interim guarantees, NATO can change Putin’s calculus without triggering the escalation he fears.

I am convinced that Ukraine’s accession to NATO is the only true guarantee of lasting security. Not memorandums. Not bilateral agreements. Not promises from Trump or Macron. Article 5, with all its credibility built on 70 years of peace in Western Europe. That is why Putin fears it. And that is why it is indispensable.

Identifying the Obstacle Correctly

When analysts and commentators say that “diplomacy has failed” in this conflict, they are framing the issue incorrectly. Diplomacy has not failed—it has been rejected by one party. Zelenskyy has proposed formats for dialogue, peace plans, and prisoner exchanges. He continues to do so as of June 2026. These proposals are genuine, grounded in international law, and available to be taken up.

What has been rejected is the willingness to act on them. Putin has refused to recognize Ukraine as a legitimate negotiating partner. He has set conditions for surrender as a prerequisite for any dialogue. He has continued to target civilians during so-called periods of diplomatic openness. This is not the failure of diplomacy. It is the rejection of diplomacy. And correctly identifying this failure is the prerequisite for responding to it appropriately.

The hand that Zelensky continues to extend

Zelensky continues to extend a hand. Through his ten-point peace plan. Through prisoner exchanges. Through his acceptance of imperfect intermediaries. Through speeches addressed to the Russian people themselves, distinguishing them from their government. This diplomatic persistence, maintained for four years despite the bombs, the deaths, and the destruction, is remarkable. It deserves more recognition than it receives in debates about a “diplomatic solution.”

Putin spits on that hand. He does so methodically, systematically, while cloaking his refusal in the language of peace. This is the reality of diplomacy surrounding this conflict. Seeing it clearly and naming it clearly is the prerequisite for any coherent policy. Diplomacy is not absent from this conflict. It is present, but it is one-sided. And this asymmetry says everything about who truly wants peace—and who wants surrender.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Diplomacy has its own timeline. What seems stagnant can suddenly begin to move very quickly when conditions change. I haven’t lost hope—but I reject the superficial optimism that ignores the depth of the obstacles.