Trump’s Reality Check - The Ukraine Conflict Won’t Be Settled Like a Business Deal

Trump’s Reality Check - The Ukraine Conflict Won’t Be Settled Like a Business Deal

As Donald Trump prepares to re-enter the White House in 2025, his approach to international conflicts is once again under scrutiny. Known for his deal-making persona, Trump has often framed complex geopolitical issues as negotiable transactions—problems that can be resolved with a handshake, a tough stance, and a little leverage. During his first term, this mindset shaped his interactions with North Korea, China, and the Middle East. Now, with the Ukraine conflict entering its third year, Trump has hinted at applying a similar strategy: a quick, decisive resolution brokered through his signature “art of the deal.” But the Ukraine war is no real estate negotiation or trade dispute. It’s a brutal, entrenched struggle rooted in history, ideology, and power—and it won’t bend easily to Trump’s transactional playbook.

Trump’s optimism about ending the Ukraine conflict stems from his belief that all parties—Ukraine, Russia, and the West—can be brought to the table with the right incentives. In campaign rhetoric and post-election statements, he has suggested he could end the war “in 24 hours” by pressuring Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky and Russian President Vladimir Putin into a compromise. The implied formula is simple: lean on Ukraine to cede territory or neutrality, push Russia with economic threats or promises, and present the outcome as a win for all involved. It’s a classic Trump move—reframe a messy situation as a problem of wills, solvable with charisma and brinkmanship.

This approach isn’t entirely baseless. Trump’s first term showed he could shift dynamics in stalled conflicts. His unconventional diplomacy with Kim Jong Un de-escalated tensions on the Korean Peninsula, at least temporarily, through a mix of flattery and threats. The Abraham Accords, brokered between Israel and several Arab states, demonstrated his ability to bypass traditional diplomatic channels for tangible results. In Trump’s mind, Ukraine might look like another opportunity to cut through bureaucracy and posturing, forcing a deal where others have failed.

But the Ukraine war defies the logic of a boardroom negotiation. Unlike a business deal, where mutual profit can align interests, this conflict is a zero-sum game for its key players. For Putin, control over Ukraine—or at least its eastern regions and a buffer against NATO—is a non-negotiable pillar of Russian security and prestige. Any retreat risks weakening his domestic grip and emboldening adversaries. For Zelensky, conceding territory or sovereignty isn’t just a political loss; it’s an existential betrayal of a nation that has suffered thousands of casualties and rallied around the cause of independence. The stakes are ideological and emotional, not just material.

Then there’s the complexity of the battlefield. By February 2025, the front lines have hardened after nearly three years of fighting. Russia controls roughly 20% of Ukraine, including Crimea and parts of Donbas, while Ukraine has reclaimed some ground with Western support. Both sides are dug in, with drones, artillery, and winter conditions making advances costly. A ceasefire might freeze the lines, but neither Moscow nor Kyiv sees that as a victory—only a pause. Trump’s promise of a quick fix ignores the inertia of war: armies don’t disengage, and populations don’t forgive, on a dime.

Trump’s toolkit—sanctions, tariffs, or energy deals—may not sway the players as easily as he hopes. Russia has weathered Western sanctions since 2014, pivoting to China, India, and others for trade. Its economy, though strained, hasn’t collapsed, and Putin’s tolerance for pain appears high. Threatening more sanctions might annoy Moscow, but it won’t force a capitulation. Offering relief, like lifting sanctions or recognizing Crimea as Russian, could incentivize Putin but would alienate Ukraine and NATO allies, risking a broader diplomatic fallout.

On Ukraine’s side, Trump’s leverage is even shakier. The U.S. provides billions in military aid, giving Trump a bargaining chip to pressure Zelensky into talks. But cutting that aid—or threatening to—could backfire. Ukraine’s resistance isn’t just about American weapons; it’s fueled by a national will to fight, supported by European allies who might step in if Trump pulls back. Forcing Kyiv to accept a bad deal could fracture NATO unity and embolden Russia further, outcomes Trump likely wants to avoid.

Perhaps the biggest miscalculation in Trump’s approach is the human element. Business deals thrive on pragmatism—people can walk away richer and call it a day. In Ukraine, the scars of war—destroyed cities, displaced millions, and atrocities like Bucha—have forged a resolve that dollars and borders can’t erase. Ukrainians see this as a fight for survival, not a negotiation over terms. Russians, fed a steady diet of Kremlin propaganda, view it as a defense against Western encroachment. Neither side’s leadership can afford to look weak without risking collapse.

Trump’s past successes relied on counterparts who could be flattered or bullied—Kim Jong Un wanted legitimacy, Gulf states wanted security. Putin, a former KGB officer with two decades in power, isn’t swayed by charm, and Zelensky, a wartime leader forged in crisis, isn’t easily intimidated. These are not men looking for an off-ramp; they’re playing for keeps.

If Trump takes office intent on settling Ukraine like a business deal, he’ll face a harsh reality check. The conflict’s depth—historical grudges, geopolitical fault lines, and raw human cost—defies the quick, tidy resolutions he craves. That’s not to say he’ll fail entirely. His unpredictability could shake up the stalemate, and his willingness to sidestep diplomatic norms might open new avenues. A partial ceasefire or de-escalation isn’t impossible if he finds a way to sell it to both sides.

But a lasting settlement? That’s a taller order. The Ukraine war isn’t a contract to be inked with a gold Sharpie. It’s a clash of wills and visions, fought with blood and steel, and no amount of deal-making swagger can erase its roots. Trump may tout his negotiating prowess, but this time, the table’s too big, the players too stubborn, and the stakes too high for a simple handshake to close the deal.