Trump’s Alaska summit rolled out a red carpet for Putin, scrapped sanctions, cornered Ukraine, sidelined Europe, and turned promised peace into a humiliating farce—power for Moscow, peril for everyone else. The Alaska summit was a disaster, plain and simple.
Donald Trump strutted into Alaska dreaming of a Nobel Prize. He even called Norway’s finance minister to pitch the idea. But after three hours with Vladimir Putin, what he walked away with was not glory but gaping emptiness. Putin got the photo-ops, the red carpet, and the chance to boast that Russia’s isolation was over. In return, he gave nothing—no ceasefire, no roadmap, not even a crumb of concession. It was a banquet of power for the Kremlin and a plate of scraps for everyone else.
Trump had hyped the meeting as the moment to “end the
killing.” Instead, the optics were embarrassing. For Ukraine and Europe, the
danger is just beginning. Volodymyr Zelensky is due in Washington on Monday,
where Trump may try to shove him into a deal that tilts toward Moscow. Back
from Anchorage, Trump declared that “the best way to end the horrific war
between Russia and Ukraine is to go directly to a Peace Agreement.” That sounds
bold, but it’s smoke without fire. Nothing was agreed. The only thing “direct”
about it was the red carpet laid at Putin’s feet.
The flip-flop is breathtaking. On August 1st, Trump was
spitting fire, calling Putin’s assault disgusting and threatening secondary
sanctions that would hammer Russia’s partners in China, Turkey, and beyond.
India had already been punished for buying Russian oil. Nuclear submarines were
dispatched as a show of muscle. Yet in Anchorage, sanctions vanished like snow
in spring. After the summit, Trump shrugged them off as “off the table.”
Instead of punishment, he spoke warmly of doing business with Russia. The tough
talk melted into talk of trade. For Putin, that was the jackpot: no sanctions,
no tariffs, no penalties. For Trump, it was a self-inflicted bust.
Now Zelensky faces a trap. Last February, Trump mocked
him for having “no cards” and kicked him out of the Oval Office. This time, he
could be handed a ready-made deal between Trump and Putin and told to sign. But
Zelensky cannot recognize Russia’s annexed land or surrender more ground. Doing
so would be political suicide. If Trump tries to force it, the result won’t be
peace but an explosion—an eruption of outrage at home and fury across Europe.
Putin revealed his game plan at his Anchorage press
conference. He spoke of solving the “root causes” of the conflict—Kremlin code
for killing Ukraine’s independence. His demands are sweeping: recognition of
annexed territories, caps on Ukraine’s military, closing the door to NATO and
maybe the EU, and even removing Zelensky himself. Trump’s ominous words about
“great progress” suggest he may be toying with these demands. If so, Anchorage
wasn’t a summit—it was a surrender, dressed up in ceremony.
Europe now finds itself in the hot seat. After the
summit, Trump held a one-hour call with European leaders and Zelensky. They
stressed that Ukraine must decide on its own territory and must keep weapons
and guarantees flowing. Starmer, Merz, Macron, and Stubb issued a joint vow:
sanctions will tighten until there is a “just and lasting peace.” Their words
matter because Trump listens to them, but the fact they had to intervene at all
shows how badly Anchorage went. Instead of progress, Europe is left patching
the cracks.
The problem is Europe’s own weakness. Trump and his vice
president, J.D. Vance, argue that Europe should shoulder the burden. For most
of the war, it hasn’t. Only recently did European aid surpass America’s. But
numbers alone aren’t enough. Europe must pump more money into weapons, expand
its munitions industry, and help Ukraine build its own arsenal. If Trump
ditches Ukraine and Europe rejects a crooked Trump-Putin deal, Kyiv must still
be able to fight. Anchorage made that clear: red carpets don’t stop tanks.
Trump bragged after the meeting that he wanted not a
temporary ceasefire but a final peace that would “hold up.” The irony is
painful. Deal or no deal, Putin will keep grinding forward. For him, the war
isn’t just about land—it’s his tool for control at home, a way to justify
repression and distract from a bleeding economy and a shaky financial system.
He wants more territory, more division in the West, and more weakness in
Europe. Anchorage gave him cover. Instead of facing penalties, he strutted out
with prestige.
The Alaska summit was a disaster, plain and simple.
Journalists got no interviews, Trump announced no sanctions, and Putin handed
over nothing. The world saw images of handshakes and red carpets, but behind
the curtains there was only emptiness. Trump came in promising peace and left
with peril. Putin came in isolated and left looking like a statesman. The
message to the world was clear: Russia stood tall while America stood down.
This summit didn’t end the killing. It ended
accountability. It wasn’t a handshake for peace but a lifeline for Putin.
Anchorage was supposed to be about history. Instead, it was about humiliation.
The only thing that held up was the stage Putin stood on, while the rest of the
world was left holding the bag.
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