On Thursday in Dublin, European leaders spent the day arguing over who should speak for them. That night, two American envoys flew in from Moscow with news. Vladimir Putin, they said, had agreed to let Europe join the next round of Ukraine talks.
The Kremlin has not confirmed it. Putin said Russia had “never objected” to dialogue with Europe. His aide Yuri Ushakov called Europe’s stance “a recipe for endless war.” Jared Kushner took the win anyway. “We cannot conclude this deal without the Europeans being at the table,” he told reporters.
The irony is hard to miss. Washington won the seat, not Brussels. And Europe cannot yet agree on who will sit in it. Paris and Berlin favor the E3 format with London. Other capitals want one voice for the whole union. Kaja Kallas, the EU’s foreign policy chief, asked a plain question in Dublin: who represents the European Union? Kushner has said that if Europe picks one person, it would be a bigger achievement than persuading Russia to include it.
This is the new Atlantic. The United States brokers. Europe pays.
Donald Trump settled the money question last July. “NATO is paying for those weapons, a hundred percent,” he said. Friedrich Merz welcomed the deal as long as “European partners finance it.” The numbers show how far the shift went.
The Kiel Institute found that American aid to Ukraine fell by 99 percent in 2025. Europe filled the hole. The EU has since approved a €90 billion loan for 2026 and 2027, with €60 billion earmarked for weapons.
Only about €14 billion had been disbursed by late October, and analysts see a roughly €70 billion gap for 2027. Much of the weapons money flows back across the Atlantic. European donors bought at least €3 billion of American arms in the first half of this year.
Under Joe Biden, Washington was the paymaster. Tens of billions of dollars in American weapons flowed to Kyiv. The EU and its member states have given €193 billion since 2022, according to the Council. Now Brussels is the main wallet, and Europeans carry the political risk with it.
Four years and nine months into the war, that money has not bought back the land. Russia annexed Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia and Kherson in 2022 and wrote them into its constitution. It took Crimea in 2014. Moscow does not hold all of the land it claims. It claims it anyway. In May, Dmitry Peskov said Volodymyr Zelensky must order his troops to “leave the territory of Donbas” before a ceasefire. In Abu Dhabi this week, Russia asserted control of ground that Ukraine still holds, Zelensky said. The Americans, he added, confirmed Kyiv’s version. Putin made a similar claim about Kostiantynivka in the Kremlin on Thursday. The Ukrainian monitoring project DeepState says Ukrainian forces hold almost all of that town.
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Zelensky says no. Washington has asked anyway. Gideon Rachman of the Financial Times describes the Witkoff-Kushner approach as one built on getting Ukraine to cede territory. Security guarantees would come “once Ukraine is ready to withdraw from Donbas,” he told Reuters in March. Samuel Charap and Jennifer Kavanagh of RAND argue that this land-for-security formula “has not worked yet” and is unlikely to work. They put the share of Donbas Kyiv still controls at nearly 20 percent. Anatol Lieven and Ted Snider make a different point. Moscow, they write, believes Europeans “are not interested in a peace settlement.” John Mearsheimer, speaking to RT, goes further. He sees no diplomatic exit at all, because Russia treats the annexed regions as sacred and Ukraine cannot accept their loss.
That belief explains Russia’s larger aim. Land is only part of it.
Putin wants Ukraine kept out of NATO, and he wants Western troops kept out of Ukraine. Before talks in December, he called European meddling “absolutely unacceptable.” Europe will not accept either condition by decree.
Kallas wants a strict order: a ceasefire first, a settlement second, and European security arrangements last. Moscow’s delegation rejected a multilateral format this week. Hence the standoff.
Europe has not abandoned Ukraine. It has stopped trusting the broker. Kallas said in March that Washington’s foreign policy shift had “rocked the trans-Atlantic relationship to its foundation.” Emmanuel Macron says, “Without Europeans, there is no support for Ukraine.” Merz wants Russia to meet European representatives face to face and says Moscow and Washington “must sit at the table.” António Costa insists that Europe needs its own voice in any room that decides its security. Moscow has not agreed.
Iran shows the same drift from the other side. Europe is a spectator in the Persian Gulf confrontation. Macron called the opening strikes “outside the framework of international law.” Spain barred American planes from its bases. Then-Prime Minister Keir Starmer first refused, then allowed only “defensive” strikes. Merz stayed closer to Trump, and Germany allowed use of Ramstein.
But the mediators who matter today are Turkey, Qatar and Pakistan. Turkish intelligence chief Ibrahim Kalin says they are working on a seven-point plan. Vice President JD Vance is reportedly weighing direct talks with Rezaei himself.
Trump says Washington does not need a deal at all. Europe is not among the named mediators.
Tehran noticed. This week Mohsen Rezaei warned that American bases from the Middle East to Europe would be legitimate targets. “No safe distance,” he wrote. Europe wanted distance from this war. The war is not honoring the request.
So the picture is clear, if uncomfortable. In Ukraine, Europe carries the bill and begs for a seat at the table. In Iran, it carries no weight and risks the fallout. Neither role was chosen. Both follow from an American president who sells weapons, brokers deals, and expects allies to keep up.
OPINION: The Gulf goes to Tehran
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