It was a scene of outward politeness and inner tension: Donald Trump and Volodymyr Zelenskyy, side by side in the Cabinet Room of the White House, flanked by Vice President J. D. Vance and Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent. The Ukrainian president spoke of a “proposal” - the United States should sell him Tomahawk cruise missiles, while Kyiv would in return provide Washington with its most advanced drones. But Trump, who in recent days had himself hinted that he was considering the sale, now showed hesitation. “I have an obligation to make sure that our country is fully stocked,” he said, “because you never know what can happen in war and peace.” And then came the sentence that set the tone for the entire meeting: “We would rather they don’t need Tomahawks. We would rather the war be over.”
The message was clear - and ambiguous. On the one hand, Trump presented himself as a mediator, as someone who wants to end war. On the other hand, his withdrawal from the idea of supplying Kyiv with long-range missiles was a clear signal to Moscow. Just the day before, he had a long phone conversation with Vladimir Putin. After that, his language suddenly sounded more cautious, almost conciliatory. “Enough blood has been shed,” he wrote on Truth Social. “They should stop where they are. Let both claim victory, history will decide.”
Zelenskyy, who spoke to journalists in Lafayette Park after the meeting, tried to stay on message. “The president is right - we must stop where we are and then talk,” he said. But his words sounded less like agreement than like an adaptation to reality. Because what Trump sells as an opportunity for de-escalation is in truth an acknowledgment of the status quo - a frozen front, cemented occupation, a peace that is not one.
For Ukraine, the meeting was sobering. Just a week earlier, Trump had hinted that a sale of the Tomahawks was possible - cruise missiles with a range of more than 1,500 kilometers, capable of striking military infrastructure deep inside Russian territory. Zelenskyy had hoped that this threat could push Putin toward serious negotiations. But after the phone call with Moscow, the resolve faded. According to Putin’s foreign policy adviser Yuri Ushakov, the Kremlin leader had warned Trump that a delivery “would not change the situation on the battlefield but would cause substantial damage to the relationship between our countries.”
Trump seems to have understood the warning. Instead of showing strength, he stages patience. Instead of building pressure, he preaches restraint - toward an opponent who has so far used every ceasefire as a pause to reload. In Washington, they call it realpolitik. In Kyiv, they call it betrayal. Zelenskyy tried to present the visit as a success nonetheless. He congratulated Trump on the recent ceasefire in Gaza and spoke of “momentum” that the president now had to end the war in Europe as well. “President Trump now has a big chance to finish this war,” he said - polite but visibly tired. Because the reality is that Trump is leading Ukraine into a vacuum of expectations.
Trump and Zelenskyy have met four times since January, most recently barely four weeks ago. In between, the American president had declared that Ukraine could “win back all its territory” - a statement that even in Kyiv caused surprise. But the line changes depending on who is on the phone. After every conversation with Putin, the tone shifts, the determination evaporates. Now Trump speaks of “two victors,” of borders defined by “war and courage.” It is the language of a man who sees peace as a bargaining trophy - not as a moral obligation.
He announced that he would soon meet with Putin in Budapest to discuss “ways to end the war.” Whether Zelenskyy would be involved in these talks, he left open. “To be determined,” Trump said, adding that a “double meeting” with both heads of state was probably “the most productive option.” It should be made “comfortable for everyone.” The wording was telling: a war that has claimed hundreds of thousands of lives is being reduced here to a question of comfort.
Trump, who since his return to office has sold peace as part of his political brand, increasingly comes across as a man who believes diplomacy is a game. “I’ve been played all my life by the best of them - and I came out pretty well,” he said when a reporter asked if Putin might be stringing him along. “I think I’m pretty good at this stuff.” It was a sentence between arrogance and self-deception, spoken at a moment when the world is watching history repeat itself. Zelenskyy, who once traveled to Washington with great confidence in Trump’s return, now faces the bitter realization that America’s new foreign policy is driven less by principles than by moods. Trump talks about peace, but he means control. He speaks of restraint, but he means influence. And while he refuses to deliver Tomahawks, he delivers Putin something far more valuable: time.
Perhaps one day people will say that October 17, 2025, was the moment when the war did not end but was redefined - not on the battlefield but in the Oval Office, between two men, neither of whom was willing to utter the word “surrender.” One because he fears it. The other because he sells it.
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