I'm writing this from my apartment in Bologna, and honestly, I've been staring at my screen for twenty minutes. The coffee's gone cold (it has that bitter, metallic taste now), and I keep asking myself: can two men widely called bullies actually stop a war that's killed over a million people?
Here's what everyone's saying—three ideas you'll hear at every dinner table across Europe. First, that Trump's just showboating, making himself look like the great dealmaker while Ukraine burns. Second, that Putin can't be trusted—he'll use any ceasefire to regroup and attack harder. Third, that real peace requires "good people" at the table, not strongmen with questionable records.
But here's my story, my number, and my single takeaway that changed how I see this: I once watched two neighborhood kids who'd been fighting for weeks finally stop. Not because their parents were saints. Because their parents were exhausted, frustrated, and frankly tired of the chaos. The peace lasted. Sometimes ending violence matters more than who ends it. Trump's now attempting his ninth mediation (he says he's resolved eight conflicts already) And Putin, for all his brutality, did answer that phone call that lasted nearly two and a half hours.
My takeaway? Peace isn't always beautiful. Sometimes it's just... necessary.
The Smell of Desperation (On All Sides)
Here's something that caught my attention in the research I've been doing for you at FreeAstroScience: Russians are now openly discussing the war. That's new. Until recently, you'd get uncomfortable silence if you brought it up in Moscow. Now? People debate it everywhere.
The Levada Center polling reveals something fascinating. About 80% of Russians support ending military operations immediately if Putin decides to—that number jumps to 93% among young people. But here's the catch: support collapses to just 33% if ending the war means giving back annexed territories.
That's not the profile of a nation ready to compromise. That's a population that wants the pain to stop without admitting defeat.
Meanwhile, Trump's hosting Zelensky in the Cabinet Room (not even the Oval Office this time), and the Ukrainian president is showing him maps of potential Russian targets. Zelensky's bringing a transactional offer: Ukraine's excellent drones in exchange for America's Tomahawk missiles. It's arms bazaar diplomacy, and the desperation seeps through every pixel of the photographs.
The Math That Doesn't Add Up
Let me walk you through what Russia's actually demanding, because this is where the "bully negotiates peace" narrative completely falls apart.
Moscow wants "demilitarization" of Ukraine. Not disarmament—demilitarization. Think about that distinction for a second. They're talking about limiting Ukraine's military capacity so severely that it becomes, in their words, a "buffer zone" between Russia and NATO.
But here's what makes that impossible: you can't have meaningful sovereignty with symbolic defense. You can't guarantee security with performative gestures. The whole reason we're in this mess is because Russia believed Ukraine was too weak to resist effectively.
Dmitrij Suslov from the Higher School of Economics in Moscow says Russia "evidently" might give up territories they don't control in Kherson and Zaporizhzhia regions—but they want all of Donbas. And they'll use those partial concessions as leverage to demand those security guarantees.
That's not negotiation. That's keeping most of what you stole and calling it compromise.
The What Zelensky Needs (And What That Tells Us)
Zelensky's request is straightforward: Tomahawk missiles and "strong security guarantees" Trump's response? "Giving Tomahawks would be escalation, but we'll talk about it. We hope it won't be necessary for the war to end"
This dance—this careful, calculated exchange—is what diplomacy actually looks like. It's not Hollywood. It's not inspiring speeches with swelling orchestras. It's two people negotiating missile systems over lunch in the Cabinet Room.
The sensory detail that struck me? Zelensky showed Trump maps. Physical maps. In our digital age, something about that feels important—the rustle of paper, fingers pointing at coordinates, the shared act of looking at the same physical object The European Question Nobody Wants to Ask
Here's where it gets interesting for us Europeans. Budapest is hosting this summit. Viktor Orbán's Hungary—which just withdrew from the International Criminal Court—has guaranteed Putin safe passage The EU is scrambling, with one official noting rather dryly that "it would be better if Putin didn't fly over Ukraine to get there" EU's counter-move? Proposing to use €140 billion from frozen Russian assets to buy American weapons for Ukraine. It's transactional. It's political. And it might actually work.
Former NATO Secretary General Jens Stoltenberg said something that resonates: "The more we arm Ukraine, the stronger it will be on the battlefield, and the more influential it will be at the negotiating table" This isn't about moral purity. It's about leverage.
My Aha Moment (And Maybe Yours)
I've spent years at Free AstroScience explaining complex phenomena—black holes, quantum mechanics, the nature of time itself. But this? This might be the most complex system I've ever tried to understand.
My moment of clarity came when I realized we're asking the wrong question. It's not "Can bullies make peace?" It's "What kind of people actually end wars?"
History shows us something uncomfortable: sometimes the people who start wars also end them. Nixon went to China. Begin and Sadat shared a Nobel Prize despite their violent pasts. Peace negotiations aren't Sunday school classes. They're messy, morally complicated affairs where former enemies sit across from each other (though Trump notes there's "too much hatred" between Zelensky and Putin for them to meet together yet) smell of compromise is probably not pleasant. It's the acrid scent of concessions, the metallic taste of pragmatism over principle.
What Trump's Mediation Actually Means
Trump claims this would be his ninth resolved conflict Whether that's accurate or characteristic Trumpian exaggeration, the pattern matters. He's positioning America as the essential dealmaker, the only power that can bring both sides to the table.
And you know what? He might be right. Not because he's particularly moral or wise, but because he has leverage. Putin will meet with him in Budapest (somehow navigating the ICC warrant and European airspace restrictions). Zelensky keeps coming back for meetings The EU is scrambling to stay relevant told reporters he's "the mediator president" because he "loves resolving wars" It sounds boastful. It probably is. But boastful peacekeepers are still peacekeepers.
The Real Test: What Happens After
Here's what nobody's really discussing yet: the after. Let's say Trump brokers some kind of ceasefire. Let's imagine Putin and Zelensky eventually stop killing each other's citizens. Then what?
Zelensky emphasized needing "strong security guarantees". The EU is working on long-term military support Trump suggested Ukraine could offer drone technology in exchange for American weapons are the unglamorous details that determine whether peace lasts or just pauses violence. A ceasefire isn't peace—it's just silence between shots. Real peace requires infrastructure: monitoring mechanisms, security guarantees, economic reconstruction, justice (complicated by that ICC warrant), and time for hatred to fade.
Germany's Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul got it right: "No decision about Ukraine without Ukraine" That principle—that the people suffering the war must control their fate—matters more than who brokers the deal.
Why History Will Judge Kindly (Probably)
I'm actually optimistic. Not naively so, but realistically. Here's why: the alternative is worse. Much worse.
Ukraine faces systematic bombardment of its energy infrastructure. Russia continues terrorist drone attacks on civilian areas Over a million total casualties have been reported. Winter is coming (yes, I went there), and another winter of war means more frozen deaths, more destroyed homes, more children growing up in bomb shelters.
If Trump's ego and Putin's calculations align to stop this—even imperfectly, even temporarily—that's worth something. History judges results. The families in Kherson picking through rubble after another strike don't care about the moral purity of whoever stops the bombs. They just want them to stop.
The Lesson for Our Time
I've learned something studying the cosmos with Free AstroScience: systems naturally move toward equilibrium. Stars balance gravity and pressure. Ecosystems find balance between predators and prey. Maybe human conflicts work similarly—violence continues until the forces seeking peace outweigh those sustaining war.
Trump and Putin might be flawed instruments of peace. But they're the instruments we have. Trump has the leverage. Putin has the power to stop Russian attacks. Zelensky has the legitimacy of defending his nation. Together, despite their mutual dislike they might actually accomplish something.
What We Europeans Must Do
We can't just wait passively. The EU's proposal to use frozen Russian assets creatively shows the right instinct Maintaining military support for Ukraine remains essential. And we must prepare for whatever peace emerges—because reconstruction, justice, and reconciliation will be European responsibilities.
Stoltenberg emphasized that Europe needs to commit to "long-term military support" He's right. Our security depends on Ukraine's security. A negotiated peace doesn't mean we abandon our principles or our friends.
What Peace Actually Requires (And It's Not Pretty)
I'm going to level with you about something uncomfortable. Real peace in Ukraine would require several things that seem almost impossible right now:
Russia would need to accept that Ukraine gets to choose its own security arrangements. Not as a "buffer zone," but as a sovereign nation. That means real defensive capabilities—enough to make future aggression costly.
Ukraine would need verifiable security guarantees that aren't just NATO membership with different branding. Trump's administration is reportedly discussing something like the old Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE) treaty, with specific limits on troop numbers and equipment types. But that treaty failed too, which is why Russia withdrew from it in 2023.
Europe would need a seat at the table despite Putin's preference to negotiate only with America. You can't build European security architecture while excluding Europe—that's just American-Russian dealmaking with a continental prize.
And here's the most challenging part: someone would need to address the human cost. Russia is spending about $520 million per day on this war. Ukraine has been hit with relentless attacks on its energy infrastructure, with predictions of a catastrophic winter if the cold hits as hard as meteorologists expect.
The EU is proposing to use €140 billion from frozen Russian assets to buy more weapons.
Every one of those numbers represents choices about whether more people die or go cold.
Trump said something surprisingly insightful: "Both Zelensky and Putin are negotiating well, but they need to eliminate some of the mutual hatred" He's not wrong. Hatred is expensive. It costs lives, resources, futures. At some point, even the most bitter enemies realize the price is too high.
The Path Forward
Here's what I think happens next (and I could be completely wrong): Trump will meet Putin in Budapest within two weeks They'll talk. Concessions will be discussed. Zelensky will be consulted (hopefully genuinely, not performatively). Something resembling a framework might emerge.
It won't be perfect. It won't satisfy everyone. Ukraine will have to make painful compromises. Russia will claim victory regardless of reality. But if the bombs stop—if families can sleep without sirens, if children can go to school safely—that's something real.
The EU is already preparing by proposing the €140 billion weapons program Smart. Peace from weakness never lasts. The question isn't whether we should negotiate with Putin. It's whether we can make him understand that negotiation serves his interests better than continued war.
Why I'm Cautiously Hopeful
Trump's interest in Ukrainian drone technology suggests he sees this as transactional, not ideological. That's actually encouraging. Ideology makes compromises harder. Transactions can be balanced. "You give me this, I give you that, we both walk away" is a formula that works.
Zelensky's statement that "with Trump's help, the war will end" shows pragmatic acceptance of reality. Ukraine's president isn't delusional about Trump's character. But he recognizes Trump has leverage that others don't. That's political maturity.
And Putin? Taking that long phone call agreeing to the Budapest meeting keeping channels open through Orbán—these aren't actions of someone committed to infinite war. They're the moves of someone testing exit paths.
But underneath that optimism, Russia continues devastating attacks on Ukrainian infrastructure. North Korea is supplying cluster munitions for Russian drones. The EU is preparing its 19th sanctions package even as negotiations proceed Ukraine is striking targets 2,000 kilometers inside Russia.
History's Verdict
Will history judge Trump and Putin as peacemakers? Probably not in simple terms. Historical judgment is rarely binary. They'll be seen as complicated figures who, for their own reasons, helped end a terrible war. That's not heroic. But it might be enough.
I think history will judge based on what comes after. If this leads to sustainable peace, if Ukraine retains sovereignty and security, if European security architecture strengthens rather than fragments—then yes, even flawed dealmakers deserve credit. If it's just a pause before renewed violence, history will be harsh.
But here's what I believe most strongly: trying for peace—even imperfect peace brokered by imperfect people—is always better than accepting endless war. The families mourning losses in Kherson, Kryvyi Rih, and countless other Ukrainian cities don't have the luxury of waiting for perfect peacemakers. They need someone, anyone, to stop the dying.
The Choice Ahead
Europe faces a choice. We can dismiss Trump and Putin as bullies unworthy of peace negotiations. Or we can engage pragmatically with the messy reality of how wars actually end. I choose pragmatism. Not because I admire either man, but because I care about outcomes more than moral performance.
Former NATO Secretary Stoltenberg said we must negotiate "from a position of strength". Exactly right. That's why the EU's military support remains crucial. Peace isn't surrender. It's achieving security through means other than endless violence.
Trump's claim that he's resolved eight conflicts might be exaggerated. But even half that number would be significant. And his statement that "we have excellent chances of ending the war quickly"—before his meeting with Xi Jinping in two weeks—sets a tight timeline. Deadlines focus minds.
My Final Thought
I'm writing this as someone who explains the universe to people—how stars die, how gravity bends spacetime, how quantum mechanics reveals reality's strangeness. But human affairs might be stranger than physics. In physics, we have equations. In diplomacy, we have personalities, egos, national interests, and the incalculable variable of human choice.
Can bullies bring peace? Maybe. Can flawed leaders stop a terrible war? History says yes—it's happened before. Will Trump and Putin succeed? I don't know. But I know this: every day the war continues, people die. And any path toward stopping that deserves serious consideration, regardless of who walks it.
The negotiations ahead won't be pretty. Peace processes never are. There will be backsliding, recriminations, violations, and frustrations. But the alternative—continued war stretching into another winter, another year, another generation—is unacceptable.
So yes, I'm optimistic. Not because I trust Trump's motives or Putin's word. I'm optimistic because exhaustion eventually defeats ideology. Because pragmatism eventually overcomes pride. Because humans, even the worst of us, eventually choose peace over perpetual war.
History will judge. But first, we need to give history something to judge—an actual attempt at peace, however imperfect. That's happening now in the phone calls, the summits, the negotiations. It's messy, uncomfortable, and morally complicated.
But it's also hope. And in dark times, hope—even complicated, uncomfortable hope—is something worth holding onto.
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