Europe offers Ukraine multinational force as peace talks stall over Donbas control

In Berlin last weekend, Donald Trump's envoys sat across from Ukrainian officials with what they called a framework for peace. Trump himself declared the moment historic—peace in Ukraine, he said, had never been closer. Germany's chancellor Friedrich Merz echoed the sentiment. The American delegation, led by Trump's special envoy Steve Witkoff and his son-in-law Jared Kushner, had spent days in meetings designed to narrow the gap between what Ukraine wanted and what Russia might accept. By Monday, U.S. officials were claiming the deal was 90 percent complete.

But the optimism masked a fundamental problem: Russia had already said no to the central European proposal before the talks even began. On Tuesday, Russia's deputy foreign minister Sergei Riabkov made it clear, speaking to ABC News, that Moscow would not accept European troops on Ukrainian soil under any circumstance. "No, no, and no again," he said. The idea itself was not new—European nations had been discussing a multinational force since March, initially framed as a way to help rebuild Ukrainian forces, secure Ukrainian airspace, and support maritime security. But Putin had never wavered: foreign soldiers on Ukrainian territory were a red line he would not cross.

What emerged from the Berlin meetings was a different kind of security offer. Zelenski told reporters via WhatsApp that Trump's team had proposed something resembling NATO's Article 5—a legally binding commitment, voted and approved by Congress, that would guarantee Ukraine's security without requiring American boots on the ground. Zelenski said five documents were on the table, several addressing security guarantees. The Trump administration confirmed only that any guarantees would be "very solid" but stopped short of detailing what they would contain or how they would work.

The real sticking point was territory. Zelenski has signaled openness to letting Ukrainians vote on the future of disputed lands through referendums, but he drew a hard line on the Donbas. "They want our Donbas. And we do not want to give up our Donbas," he said. When asked about an American proposal for a "free economic zone" in the region, Zelenski was careful to note that such a zone could not mean Russian control. Moscow, by contrast, was claiming sovereignty over parts of the Donbas that its own forces did not even control after nearly four years of war. Kremlin spokesman Dmitri Peskov said Russia's position was "consistent, transparent, and clear."

Oleksiy Haran, a professor of comparative politics at Kyiv National University, framed the core question plainly: who would control these territories politically and militarily? Ukraine considered them Ukrainian land. Russia wanted them treated as Russian territory. A demilitarized zone might be possible in theory, Haran suggested, but only if both sides withdrew equally. Russia, however, was proposing to station its National Guard there—a very different arrangement. The asymmetry revealed the gap between what each side was willing to accept.

By Tuesday, cracks were showing in the American narrative of imminent peace. Zelenski said final details still needed to be worked out with Washington, a process he expected to take days. Once those were settled, Trump's team would present the full proposal to Moscow. Peskov responded that Russia had seen only press reports so far, not actual text. He was waiting to see what was really being offered before responding. Zelenski, for his part, had already sketched out his fallback position: if Putin rejected the American proposal, Ukraine would have grounds to ask the United States for more weapons and tougher sanctions against Russia. But his confidence in that outcome was visibly uncertain. The triumphalism of Berlin was already fading.