Last month's Alaska summit between President Trump and Vladimir Putin played out like a carefully staged Cold War-era reenactment. Images of handshakes and optimistic soundbites—promising “new opportunities”—weren’t matched by substance. Russia pressed for Ukraine to cede territory in return for vague security assurances, while the U.S. stood firm against deploying troops or combat assets, signaling there’s no appetite for escalation—even as Russian officials spun the summit as a path to peace.
For Washington, the Alaska talks should serve as a wake-up call. Despite two and a half years of bloody stalemate, neither Russia nor Ukraine has shown serious interest in compromise. Instead, both are locked in a grinding war of attrition where incremental battlefield gains have outsized political significance. As Turkey’s Erdoğan noted last week, neither side is prepared for meaningful face-to-face talks. Into this deadlock, the United States has shuttled billions in aid to Ukraine, with little gains to show. Pretending otherwise risks confusing wishful thinking with strategy.
Defense Priorities has long argued that the U.S. must align its policies with its actual security interests, and the Alaska summit underscored why. Washington has nothing to gain from dangling “mini-NATO” security guarantees for Ukraine—or suggesting that the U.S. will enforce a ceasefire it cannot credibly uphold—as it only raises expectations that America cannot and should not meet. Such promises invite hazardous conditions, encouraging Kyiv to take risks on the assumption that American forces will backstop them, while simultaneously provoking Moscow without altering the battlefield balance. Russia has already rejected any model that would involve Western forces fighting on behalf of Ukraine, and U.S. policymakers know that attempting to replicate NATO in all but name risks escalation with a rival nuclear power. That reluctance reflects prudent realism.
As Politico recently reported, senior defense officials remain wary of committing combat forces or air assets to Ukraine, recognizing the inherent danger of direct confrontation. This is the right instinct: restraint is not abandonment, but a recognition of limits—and a reminder that credibility comes not from promising the impossible, but from matching commitments to achievable ends.
Nor should Washington pin its hopes on European initiatives. Whether EU capitals or the U.K. expand their commitments to Kyiv is their decision, but it should not dictate American policy. The greater danger lies in chain-ganging: if European assistance outside NATO provokes a Russian strike on logistics hubs in Poland or elsewhere, Washington could be pressured to intervene against its own interests. The surest safeguard is not shifting burdens but limiting them—by drawing a clear line between what Europe may choose to do and what the U.S. will not.
That recognition of limits should also sharpen Washington’s own approach. Restraint does not mean abandoning Ukraine altogether, but it does mean avoiding promises we know we cannot fulfill. Rather than dangling NATO-lite guarantees or pretending the U.S. can enforce peace across shifting front lines, the more realistic framework for Ukraine’s future is armed neutrality. This approach avoids overpromising U.S. security guarantees while equipping Ukraine with the means to deter aggression. It is not a perfect solution, but it is far more achievable than offering NATO membership or pretending Washington can underwrite peace in perpetuity.
The Alaska summit underscored an uncomfortable truth: the war in Ukraine is not America’s to fight or to settle. Whether European states choose to expand their support for Kyiv is their decision—but it should not dictate U.S. policy. What matters for Washington is ensuring that we are not dragged in through the back door. Chain-ganging—where allies’ independent actions outside NATO could provoke Russian retaliation and then spark demands for U.S. involvement—would only recreate the very risks we seek to avoid.
That is why restraint remains the most responsible course. Walking away from unattainable ambitions—like trying to enforce a ceasefire across active battle lines or propping up NATO-lite security guarantees—does not weaken U.S. credibility. On the contrary, it prevents overextension and preserves our strength for challenges that matter more to American security, from balancing China in the Indo-Pacific to addressing urgent needs at home. By firewalling ourselves off from Ukraine, Washington can avoid being trapped by escalation risks it neither controls nor benefits from.
The Alaska summit takeaways made clear that Russia is not ready to compromise. Ukraine, understandably, is unwilling to trade away sovereignty. That leaves Washington with two options: continue fueling a proxy war with limited prospects for success, or firewall itself off from escalation risks and accept that the conflict’s outcome is not decisive for U.S. security. The latter path is not just sustainable—it is the only one consistent with American interests.
