So, Trump and Putin meet. The world braces for fireworks, a grand bargain, perhaps even “the deal of the century”. What do we get? Nothing. Not a sausage. Just two men who can start wars, topple democracies and bankrupt economies, yet when they sit down together produce less substance than a vegan sausage roll at a petrol station.
The gossip beforehand was delicious. Putin would demand his pound of Ukrainian flesh, Trump would nod like a novelty dog in the back of a car, then insist Ukraine be allowed into NATO so he could strut out and claim to have delivered “peace in our time”. The cherry on top? Trump could then announce America was “stepping back” from NATO - translation: Europe gets the bill, Trump gets the applause.
Except it was nonsense. Ukraine wouldn’t get all its land back, Russia would bank its theft, and NATO would gain a member while risking its linchpin. And yet, here’s the irony: Ukraine would be the Alliance’s best new asset. Battle-hardened, bloodied but unbowed, its army has spent years teaching itself how to fight Russia with one hand tied behind its back. NATO would be getting the heavyweight champion on the cheap.
Then there are the borders. Before all this, just 6 percent of Russia’s land frontier touched NATO. Finland and Sweden pushed it up to about 20 percent. Add Ukraine and you’re at nearly 30 percent of Russia’s vast edge pressing against the Alliance. That’s not the strategic triumph Putin had in mind when he pictured tanks rolling into Kyiv.
So what actually happened? Nothing. Which may be the best result of all. Because when nothing happens, nobody can pretend it’s genius. Putin goes home empty-handed, Trump goes home without a headline, and Ukraine keeps resisting without their pantomime. The much-vaunted “deal of the century” never left the beer mat it was scrawled on. Sometimes, blessed nothingness is better than a disaster packaged as diplomacy.
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