The Geneva Talks and Putin's Clock

While Witkoff and Kushner sat down with the Ukrainian delegation at the Hôtel des Bergues in Geneva yesterday, Russia launched 420 drones and 39 missiles at energy infrastructure and residential buildings across eight Ukrainian regions. Eleven of those missiles were ballistic. Dozens wounded, children among them. Ukrainian air defences intercepted most of them, but the message was not aimed at civilians in Kharkiv or Zaporizhzhia. It was aimed at the negotiators sitting in Switzerland. The Kremlin speaks with missiles when it wants to be heard.

The bilateral meeting between Trump's envoys and Umerov's team covered three items: the $800 billion reconstruction package, future prisoner exchanges, and preparations for the next trilateral round, which Zelensky said would take place in early March, likely in Abu Dhabi. Nine days earlier, the third trilateral round in Geneva had ended without progress on what actually matters: territory and a ceasefire. The knot remains the Donbas. Moscow demands full control of Donetsk Oblast, including the quarter still held by Ukraine. Kyiv rejects any territorial concession and insists on security guarantees robust enough to deter a future invasion. Neither side has moved.

What has moved is the clock, and that asymmetry defines the whole process. Lavrov put it yesterday with a candour worth quoting: "Have you heard anything from us about deadlines? We have no deadlines, we have tasks. We are getting them done." Peskov added it was "too early" to make forecasts on the state of the process. Russia's posture is consistent, and it is not new. Negotiate without hurry, advance on the ground, let time erode the other side's position. It is what they did in Syria, in Georgia, in the early phase of this very war. Russia has no competitive elections, no public opinion that disciplines its calendar, and Putin does not need an agreement to legitimise himself. His mandate does not depend on an outcome in Ukraine. It depends on not losing.

Trump, on the other hand, has a clock that is running. As Axios reported in early February, Zelensky revealed that the administration wants a deal before June, when the White House pivots to the midterm elections. "The elections are, for them, definitely more important. Let's not be naive," Zelensky said. It is a correct reading. A president who promised to end the war in 24 hours, then stretched it to six months, then said he was being "a little bit sarcastic," needs something to show. Not necessarily peace, but a gesture large enough to sell on the campaign trail. And gestures in foreign policy come with an expiry date: after June, Ukraine competes with Congress for the White House's attention.

The question no one in Geneva can answer is simple: what happens if June comes and goes without a deal? Previous Trump deadlines arrived and departed with no visible consequences. But the pressure on Kyiv is real and growing. The New York Times reported that the administration is pushing Ukraine to make concessions, while from the Russian side there are no signs of flexibility. US officials told Politico they expect Kyiv to "accept the deal" or risk losing military and intelligence support. It is a brutal equation, but a logical one for Washington: the political cost of an unresolved conflict is higher than the moral cost of an imperfect agreement.

Seen from Moscow, the negotiations are performative. Russia participates because refusing would be diplomatically expensive, but it has no incentive to close quickly. Every week that passes, its forces inch forward in the Donbas. Every fruitless round wears down Ukraine's position and frustrates Washington. Medinsky, the head of the Russian delegation, is what one British analyst described as "Putin's hand puppet," someone who transmits positions without actually negotiating. He is not an interlocutor. He is a letterbox.

Seen from Kyiv, the negotiations are existential. Ukraine does not have the luxury of time. Its energy infrastructure degrades with each missile barrage, its economy depends on Western support, and its bargaining position weakens with every kilometre lost. Zelensky insists on a direct summit with Putin, but the Kremlin conditions it on being the final stage, only to sign what has already been settled. In other words: capitulate first, then we shake hands.

The historical pattern is well known. Wars do not end when someone wants peace. They end when someone can no longer fight, or when the cost of continuing exceeds the cost of conceding. In Ukraine, neither side has reached that point. But there is a third variable, and it is the one that really matters: who has more time. On that count, Lavrov's answer was the most honest thing anyone said all day.