Two meetings, thousands of miles apart, carried the same message: the war in Ukraine is no longer about borders alone but about who will control its resources. In Alaska, Donald Trump met Vladimir Putin; in Washington, he sat down with Volodymyr Zelenskyy and Europe’s leaders. Trump cast himself as the only man able to cut a deal between East and West. However, his claim to mediation exposed less about peace than about power—about minerals, markets, and the raw struggle for control.
But Trump’s promises ring scrawled. He ruled out American boots on the ground, insisting that “as president” he would not risk U.S. lives in Ukraine. At the same time, he dangled the idea of U.S. peacekeepers—hinting at American presence but without commitment. He reassured Kyiv that security guarantees would come, but mostly from Europe. France, Germany, and the UK, he claimed, were weighing troop deployments. His message was clear: America will not fight this war, but it will supervise the spoils.
The contradictions are glaring. Trump insists Ukraine will not enter NATO, yet promises “guarantees.” He talks of peace, but pushes Kyiv toward territorial concessions. He claims Putin accepts security guarantees, even as Moscow warns that NATO troops in Ukraine would mean uncontrollable escalation. The Alaska and Washington talks thus revealed not a coherent strategy but a theatre of deals, with Trump casting himself as the impatient businessman, Putin as the imperial gambler, Zelenskyy as the cornered leader, and Europe as the reluctant partner.
The Trumpian Diplomacy
Trump’s mediation is less about principles than about optics and transaction. His style is rooted in speed and spectacle. In Alaska, he boasted of personal chemistry with Putin; in Washington, he pressed Zelenskyy to compromise. For him, “there’s no deal until there’s a deal,” but any deal is better than no deal—as long as he gets credit for brokering it.
This is Trump’s trademark approach: reduce complex wars to boardroom negotiations. In his world, sovereignty becomes negotiable, borders become bargaining chips, and peace becomes a contract signed under pressure. He openly suggested that Ukraine could “end the war almost immediately” if it conceded territory. He floated the idea of land swaps, as if states were real estate parcels.
However, Trump is not naïve. He knows resources are at the heart of modern conflicts. His repeated hints that U.S. aid should be tied to Ukraine’s mineral wealth reveal his instincts. For him, diplomacy is also about business access. In this sense, his mediation reflects not only a desire to end the war but to restructure who profits from Ukraine’s resources once the war is done.
Trump aspires to be remembered as the great dealmaker-president who solved Ukraine where others failed. But what he offers is not durable peace. It is a quick fix built on concessions, one that risks legitimising conquest and opening the door for resource exploitation.
Putin’s strategic ambition
For Putin, the war is existential. He sees it as defence against NATO, but his aims go far beyond geopolitics. By annexing Crimea and now holding swathes of Donetsk, Luhansk, Kherson, and Zaporizhzhia, Russia has already seized resources worth an estimated $12.5 trillion. These territories contain coal, oil, gas, and critical minerals. Russia now controls 80% of Ukraine’s offshore gas reserves and half of its coal. This is not only about energy security—it is about constructing a resource empire that sustains Russia’s economy under sanctions and strengthens its bargaining power over Europe.
Putin aspires to restore Russia’s sphere of influence. But he knows that military dominance alone will not guarantee it. Economic leverage matters just as much. By controlling Ukraine’s industrial heartlands, Moscow can weaken Kyiv permanently and hold Europe hostage to its resources. The Donbas is not only a battlefield; it is an industrial treasure. Control of it secures steel, coal, and energy that Ukraine cannot afford to lose.
This is why Putin’s demands remain maximalist. He insists on Crimea’s recognition, on Donbas sovereignty, and on Ukraine’s neutrality. He uses war fatigue in the West as leverage, gambling that sooner or later Kyiv’s allies will push it toward concessions. For him, even partial victories mean long-term control of resources and the political subjugation of Ukraine.
Zelenskyy’s Survival Strategy
Zelenskyy remains defiant. He rejects territorial concessions and insists that peace must begin with a ceasefire, not a land swap. He knows that giving up the Donbas would give Russia a springboard for future offensives. But he is also constrained. Ukraine is deeply dependent on Western aid—about $407 billion since 2022, including $118 billion from the U.S. His government has had to balance survival with compromise, signing deals that tie aid to drone exports and defence contracts.
For Zelenskyy, the struggle is not only about sovereignty but about preserving Ukraine’s economic viability. Losing its mineral and industrial base would cripple the country for generations. He knows that Ukraine’s independence depends not only on borders but also on who controls its mines, fields, and energy reserves.
Geopolitics and Geoeconomics of Ukraine
Ukraine is far more than a frontline state. It is a strategic resource hub. Its 20,000 known deposits make it the richest untapped reserve in Europe. The country holds vast reserves of titanium, lithium, graphite, gallium, neon gas, and uranium. These are the raw materials of modern power: chips, batteries, renewable energy, and advanced weapons.
Before the war, Ukraine supplied 90% of the neon used by U.S. semiconductor makers. It was poised to become a leading supplier of lithium, a mineral central to electric vehicles and energy storage. Control of these deposits is now contested. If Russia consolidates its hold over eastern Ukraine, it will dominate Europe’s access to critical minerals, giving Moscow an economic lever as powerful as its military arsenal.
This explains why the West sees Ukraine as “the shield of Europe.” It is not just about defending democracy. It is about safeguarding the resources that will power Europe’s green transition and digital industries. The EU’s Green Deal cannot succeed without secure access to lithium, cobalt, and rare earths. Losing Ukraine’s reserves to Russia would tie Europe more tightly to China’s mineral monopoly.
For the U.S., the stakes are equally high. Washington sees Ukraine as a way to diversify supply chains away from Beijing. Trump’s comments about tying aid to access were not gaffes—they reflected a hard reality. American companies already eye Ukraine’s reserves as future sources of independence from Chinese rare earths. Aid, in this light, is not just humanitarian or strategic—it is investment capital for resource access.
Russia, the U.S., and Europe thus converge on the same point: Ukraine’s future lies in who controls its mineral wealth. This is the true prize of the war. Borders, NATO membership, and guarantees are all important. But they are also the diplomatic covers for a resource war whose outcome will shape Europe’s economic future.
Europe’s Dilemma
European leaders, from Macron to Starmer, resist Trump’s shortcuts. They warn that half-baked compromises could encourage Moscow and destabilise Europe. But they also know their economies depend on Ukraine. Lithium for batteries, titanium for aerospace, and uranium for nuclear power are all critical to Europe’s industrial and climate goals.
Thus, Europe’s position is not purely moral. It is strategic. Protecting Ukraine is protecting Europe’s economic independence. Ceding territory would not only weaken Kyiv’s sovereignty; it would hand Europe’s future supply chains to Moscow. That is why European leaders, though wary of Trump’s impulsiveness, have little choice but to stand by Ukraine.
The Political Economy of Modern War
Modern wars are rarely about flags alone. They are about pipelines, mines, and markets. The Ukraine war is a striking example. Russia bleeds for resources and empire. Ukraine fights for sovereignty and survival. The U.S. intervenes to secure access and weaken rivals. Europe supports Kyiv to protect its economic future.
This is why diplomacy falters. Peace talks stumble not only because of maximalist demands but because the stakes are material. Territorial concessions are also resource concessions. Security guarantees are tied to contracts. Humanitarian aid comes with conditions of extraction. The logic of war and the logic of markets overlap.
What Lies Ahead
The choices are clear. If Ukraine is pressured into concessions, Russia consolidates a resource empire and Europe faces long-term dependency. If Ukraine resists, the war drags on, but Western industries retain hope of access. Trump’s pursuit of a quick deal risks normalising conquest as negotiation. If borders can be changed by force in exchange for minerals, international law collapses.
Putin aspires to restore Russia’s empire and secure its economy. Trump aspires to be the grand mediator, but what he delivers is a contract shaped by resources, not principles. Zelenskyy aspires to preserve Ukraine’s sovereignty and economic viability, but is trapped in dependency. Europe aspires to stability but knows its industrial future is bound to Ukraine’s minerals.
The Ukraine war is therefore not only a fight for territory. It is a struggle for the material foundations of global power. Whether the outcome is decided in trenches or boardrooms, the stakes are the same: control of resources. If diplomacy reduces sovereignty to mineral concessions, conquest regains its legitimacy.
This war is about Ukraine. But it is also about whether the rules of the international order still hold, or whether, in the new age of resource wars, raw force and market deals decide the fate of nations.
[Benjamin D Applebaum, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons]
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect TGP’s editorial stance.
K.M. Seethi, Director, Inter University Centre for Social Science Research and Extension, is the Academic Advisor of the International Centre for Polar Studies at Mahatma Gandhi University, Kerala. He also served as ICSSR Senior Fellow, Senior Professor and Dean of International Relations at MGU.
