The much-hyped Alaska meeting between US President Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin — packaged as “3+3 talks” and billed as a possible turning point for the Russia–Ukraine war — ended not with a ceasefire handshake but with a business handshake. If you blinked, you missed the peace part entirely.
Officially, the summit aimed to hammer out a roadmap for ending the grinding conflict in Ukraine, a war now well into its second year with devastating human and geopolitical costs. Unofficially, it ended up as a trade fair. The only tangible outcome Trump announced? A 20% increase in US–Russia trade.
During the joint press conference, Trump spoke for about just three minutes, brimming with vague optimism about “productive” discussions, while Putin — the man with the upper hand — wrapped up in a brisk in around eight minutes. Trump promised that “what transpired” would be relayed to Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy by Senator Marco Rubio and other US officials, as though Ukraine’s fate was a side note to be handled by couriers.
If that sounds like a diplomatic downgrade, it’s because it is.
Every frame of that press conference screamed advantage Moscow. Trump’s flagship promise, going in to broker peace — vanished without a trace. There was no joint ceasefire declaration, no framework for talks, not even a vague commitment to “work towards de-escalation.” Instead, there was the trade boost announcement, which is politically toxic for Trump given his earlier chest-thumping about “punishing” Russia with tougher sanctions.
This is the same Trump who threatened NATO allies with consequences if they didn’t back stronger measures against Russia, and who lectured India about buying discounted Russian oil by slapping a 50% “trade tax” on such imports. Now he has, with a straight face, turned around and deepened America’s own economic ties with Moscow.
If there’s a word for this, it’s hypocrisy. If there’s a visual for it, it’s the damp, uneasy expression on Trump’s face as the two leaders skipped the planned formal lunch — a diplomatic tell that the meeting was not all smooth sailing.
Putin, who has built his career on playing geopolitical poker with the patience of a chess master, clearly dictated the pace. He has made it abundantly clear since the war began that Russia will not hand back occupied Ukrainian territories. He likely repeated that position in Alaska, forcing Trump to pivot away from the peace agenda toward something — anything — he could call a win.
That “win” turned out to be a commercial one, and even that was a win for Putin. More trade means more revenue for Moscow, which in turn means more resources to sustain the war effort. In strategic terms, Trump’s concession hands Russia breathing space while Ukraine bleeds.
The biggest loser, of course, is Ukraine. Zelenskyy, already frustrated with wavering Western commitment, now faces a US administration that has tacitly deprioritised his country’s fight for sovereignty. NATO, too, looks undermined — its unity dented by Washington’s apparent willingness to do business with the very country it has sanctioned.
Trump has, in effect, traded geopolitical leverage for a ledger entry. The signal to the world is blunt: America’s moral high ground is negotiable, and the going rate is 20% more trade.
This Alaska episode may well haunt Trump. The gap between his bluster before the talks and the meek outcome after them is glaring. The sanctions sword he once waved now looks like a rubber blade. By choosing commerce over confrontation, Trump has given Putin a propaganda gift: the image of a US president coming to talk peace and leaving with a trade deal that benefits Russia.
The irony? Trump may now be pressured to extend similar concessions to other nations — including India — to avoid charges of double standards. Having attacked New Delhi for buying Russian oil, he now stands exposed for buying Russian goodwill with American markets.
In Alaska, the real battle wasn’t over Ukraine’s borders — it was over narrative control. Putin walked away with the last laugh. Trump, despite the smile for the cameras, flew back to Washington nursing the knowledge that his “ceasefire mission” was remembered not for ending a war, but for boosting a rival’s economy.
