For nearly four years the war in Ukraine has defied expectation, proving that neither battlefield bravery nor diplomatic brinkmanship can simply conjure peace from the wreckage of geopolitics.

The latest chapter — a high-stakes meeting between President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and President Donald Trump in Florida — should have offered some light at the end of this very long tunnel. Instead, it has delivered what too often passes for progress in this interminable conflict: promises measured in years, not convictions, and plans that look good on paper but thin on binding substance.

Mr Zelenskyy emerged professing a sense of cautious optimism. The United States has reportedly tabled security guarantees for Ukraine lasting 15 years as part of a broader peace framework — a development he described as “a key milestone” toward ending the war. Yet his own rhetoric underscored the fragility of what has been offered. Mr Zelenskyy made clear that Kyiv would prefer much longer commitments — up to 50 years — to ensure that Russia is deterred from future aggression.

That gap between what has been offered and what Ukraine seeks is more than a matter of semantics: it reveals the yawning divide between political posturing and strategic assurance. A 15-year security guarantee sounds impressive until one considers that it amounts to little more than a diplomatic handshake with an expiry date — especially given that Russia’s war effort has so far shown no sign of conceding on its own terms. With Moscow controlling immense swathes of eastern Ukraine and insisting that far-reaching territorial adjustments remain unresolved, as Russian officials reminded Western audiences this week, any “guarantee” that is neither iron-clad nor indefinite is a political comfort blanket, not a deterrent.

Trump himself was characteristically upbeat, describing the talks as “progress” and suggesting that the peace plan was “very close” to completion. Yet the language of optimism has become a familiar diplomatic veneer throughout this conflict — a way to paper over unresolved fractures in negotiations. For all the talk of reaching deals, crucial issues remain unsettled: the status of the Russian-occupied Zaporizhzhia nuclear power station, the future of Donbas, and the very mechanism by which any security guarantee would be enforced.

Most glaringly of all, the draft guarantees are not automatic. They would need ratification by the U.S. Congress and by the legislatures of participating nations. That means the next chapter in this saga moves from palaces and air-conditioned press rooms to the grubbier realities of domestic politics — where foreign commitments often founder on partisan scepticism and fiscal caution. This is hardly a robust defence pact. This is political theatre, with clauses and conditions at the mercy of shifting winds in Washington and Brussels.

Mr Zelenskyy’s call for guarantees lasting 30, 40 or even 50 years is rooted in painful historical lessons. In 1994, Ukraine relinquished nuclear weapons in return for security assurances under the Budapest Memorandum — assurances promptly shredded when Russia invaded in 2014. But asking for long-term guarantees is not the same thing as receiving them, and even Kyiv’s current proposal does not yet include binding NATO-style mutual defence obligations. Rather, it stands as a plea for commitment from partners who are themselves often reluctant guarantors.

On the other side of the negotiating table sits a Kremlin that has not been shy about what it wants — including control or influence over former Ukrainian territory. The Russian position has hardened in recent months, with official statements insisting that Ukraine must withdraw from parts of eastern Donbas if it wants peace. That such an ultimatum is being aired during supposed peace negotiations does not suggest a conflict close to resolution; it suggests a conflict in which one party believes it still holds the advantage.

Even the very idea of a future trilateral meeting involving Mr Putin remains tentative. Kremlin officials suggested that Trump could call the Russian president again soon — an echo of earlier phases in this conflict, when diplomatic momentum fizzled as steadily as sanctions enforcement waned. The Chairs of negotiating tables can talk, but unless Moscow’s actions change fundamentally, words will remain just that.

In Europe, leaders are watching these developments with a mixture of hope and scepticism. A planned meeting in Paris early in the New Year of Ukraine’s allies is intended to flesh out the concrete contributions and obligations that underpin whatever peace framework comes out of U.S.–Ukraine talks. But reaching agreement among European states — each wary of their own domestic backlashes and each remembering the stark divisions over Ukraine’s future that surfaced earlier in the year — will be neither simple nor swift.

On the ground in Ukraine, the war grinds on. Russian forces have continued to claim tactical gains, and Ukrainian civilians and soldiers alike remain exposed to the brutal realities of protracted conflict. There is no ceasefire yet; there is only an ongoing struggle for advantage on multiple fronts — military, diplomatic and informational.

So where does this leave the so-called “peace process”? At best, it has bought another layer of conversation; at worst, it has provided a gloss of progress without substance. A 15-year security guarantee with optional extensions is not a shield — it is a suggestion. A peace framework that hinges on unilateral goodwill rather than enforceable treaty obligations is a fragile façade. And a conflict that has already claimed hundreds of thousands of lives cannot be suspended by the rhetoric of well-meaning presidents.

As the calendar turns to 2026, Ukrainians deserve more than warmed-over diplomatic communiqués and pledges that expire halfway through the next generation. They deserve certainty — and until that word is defined by deeds rather than promises, this war will continue to test not just Ukraine’s endurance, but the credibility of its supporters.