Trump’s Absence Fuels Doubt: Is the West Abandoning Ukraine?

Paul Riverbank, 1/7/2026Amid rain-soaked Paris talks, Western leaders promise Ukraine new security guarantees—yet uncertainty lingers. Bold pledges, political risks, and shifting alliances leave open whether these words will translate to real support as war rages on.

“I think we’ve made real progress,” said Britain’s Prime Minister, Keir Starmer, pausing to nod at a French official. Yet he didn’t hesitate to add, “But the hardest work is still ahead of us.” Starmer’s words were echoed, in different forms, by nearly every leader present. On the ground, Russian artillery had not grown any quieter. The sense was clear: whatever new plans emerged here, the war’s finish still lay somewhere out of sight.

Behind the closed doors, talks took on their own rhythm. Negotiators sketched out maps, pointed at supply routes, scribbled plans for what they described as a 'defensive web'—clusters of hubs scattered across Ukrainian territory. The blueprint promised better access to weapons and a long-term international footprint. Air patrols, maritime support in the Black Sea, new garrisons—these ideas swirled around, but with details still mostly under wraps. Who would supply personnel—and how many? Who would underwrite the cost? For now, the public heard only that those answers were coming “soon.”

Volodymyr Zelensky, looking more drawn than at past summits, addressed the press after another round of meetings. “We know now which partners are ready to step up—on the ground, in the air, offshore,” he said, resting his hands on the lectern. His summary was careful: plans were in place, leadership roles tentatively assigned, but every commitment would have to be signed off by parliaments and lawmakers back home. No one—least of all Ukraine—expected shortcuts around democratic procedure.

Macron, hosting with the sort of flourish he has made a hallmark, called the gathering “a step forward.” The sheer turnout gave the French president a reason to boast: 35 nations sent representatives, including 27 heads of state. Yet behind the optimism was uncertainty—especially in the context of an American government now more preoccupied with events in Caracas than Kyiv. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who typically would have been a linchpin in such talks, was notably absent, distracted by the ongoing drama of Venezuela’s toppled regime. Meanwhile, President Donald Trump had spent much of the previous week floating the idea of putting American sovereignty over Greenland—a move that rattled nerves even among the closest U.S. allies.

Such unpredictable shifts in American foreign policy have left Europe jumpy. Ukrainian officials didn’t hide their anxiety either. “Washington’s guarantees are crucial to us,” one aide to Zelensky confided, though Kyiv is now looking more intently at alliances beyond the Atlantic too. The quiet fear at the table is that the next cease-fire, if it comes, could turn into a lull that Moscow simply uses to rearrange its pieces and try again.

Through the policy jargon and careful phrasing, the priorities came into focus:

- Set up mechanisms to monitor any future cease-fire agreements and hold signatories to account.

- Give Ukraine’s military better training and more up-to-date equipment.

- Discuss whether a multinational force might be feasible—whether on land, at sea, or in the skies.

- Issue clear warning that attacks on Ukraine will meet real action, not just diplomatic notes.

- Bind Ukraine, by degrees, into the fabric of European defense, beyond one-off aid packages.

None of these steps, it must be said, comes without risk. Starmer lodged a warning near the end of discussions: peace required movement from Moscow, but “Putin is not acting as if he wants peace.” That sobering assessment hung in the air as officials began to file out.

Zelensky, before departing, turned again to France and Britain. Their status as nuclear powers, he emphasized, carried symbolic and strategic weight. “Their involvement is critical,” he pressed, “No coalition endures without real commitment from its strongest members.”

As buses and black Audis ferried leaders back into the Paris dusk, the realities on the ground did not wait. Ukrainian drones had reportedly struck deep targets in Russian territory, setting off fires and forcing hurried evacuations. Away from conference tables, the war's tempo remained relentless.

Now, as the accord's legal details roll out in national capitals, each government must persuade skeptical lawmakers and wary publics. Only the specifics—the number of boots, the size of budgets, the durability of alliances—will show whether these plans amount to a lasting framework or another temporary patch.

For the moment, Paris delivered hope in careful doses. Everyone inside those halls knew the difference between a promise and a deliverable. And outside, on Ukraine’s muddy roads, the war carried on—impatient for the paperwork to catch up.

The rain hadn't let up all day in Paris, and late in the afternoon, a line of diplomatic vehicles slid through the wet streets, headlights glossed with water. Inside, high-level delegations from across Europe, North America, and the UK exchanged brief words—most faces betraying as much concern as resolve. The meeting spot buzzed, though no one mistook this for a celebration. At the heart of these conversations was Ukraine: its battered cities, its troops dug in along a shifting east, and the still-unfolding risk of escalation. The talk focused on security—what it means in a war that refuses to stay still—and the hope, cautious at best, that peace might not be out of reach forever.“I think we’ve made real progress,” said Britain’s Prime Minister, Keir Starmer, pausing to nod at a French official. Yet he didn’t hesitate to add, “But the hardest work is still ahead of us.” Starmer’s words were echoed, in different forms, by nearly every leader present. On the ground, Russian artillery had not grown any quieter. The sense was clear: whatever new plans emerged here, the war’s finish still lay somewhere out of sight.Behind the closed doors, talks took on their own rhythm. Negotiators sketched out maps, pointed at supply routes, scribbled plans for what they described as a 'defensive web'—clusters of hubs scattered across Ukrainian territory. The blueprint promised better access to weapons and a long-term international footprint. Air patrols, maritime support in the Black Sea, new garrisons—these ideas swirled around, but with details still mostly under wraps. Who would supply personnel—and how many? Who would underwrite the cost? For now, the public heard only that those answers were coming “soon.”Volodymyr Zelensky, looking more drawn than at past summits, addressed the press after another round of meetings. “We know now which partners are ready to step up—on the ground, in the air, offshore,” he said, resting his hands on the lectern. His summary was careful: plans were in place, leadership roles tentatively assigned, but every commitment would have to be signed off by parliaments and lawmakers back home. No one—least of all Ukraine—expected shortcuts around democratic procedure.Macron, hosting with the sort of flourish he has made a hallmark, called the gathering “a step forward.” The sheer turnout gave the French president a reason to boast: 35 nations sent representatives, including 27 heads of state. Yet behind the optimism was uncertainty—especially in the context of an American government now more preoccupied with events in Caracas than Kyiv. Secretary of State Marco Rubio, who typically would have been a linchpin in such talks, was notably absent, distracted by the ongoing drama of Venezuela’s toppled regime. Meanwhile, President Donald Trump had spent much of the previous week floating the idea of putting American sovereignty over Greenland—a move that rattled nerves even among the closest U.S. allies.Such unpredictable shifts in American foreign policy have left Europe jumpy. Ukrainian officials didn’t hide their anxiety either. “Washington’s guarantees are crucial to us,” one aide to Zelensky confided, though Kyiv is now looking more intently at alliances beyond the Atlantic too. The quiet fear at the table is that the next cease-fire, if it comes, could turn into a lull that Moscow simply uses to rearrange its pieces and try again.Through the policy jargon and careful phrasing, the priorities came into focus:- Set up mechanisms to monitor any future cease-fire agreements and hold signatories to account.- Give Ukraine’s military better training and more up-to-date equipment.- Discuss whether a multinational force might be feasible—whether on land, at sea, or in the skies.- Issue clear warning that attacks on Ukraine will meet real action, not just diplomatic notes.- Bind Ukraine, by degrees, into the fabric of European defense, beyond one-off aid packages.None of these steps, it must be said, comes without risk. Starmer lodged a warning near the end of discussions: peace required movement from Moscow, but “Putin is not acting as if he wants peace.” That sobering assessment hung in the air as officials began to file out.Zelensky, before departing, turned again to France and Britain. Their status as nuclear powers, he emphasized, carried symbolic and strategic weight. “Their involvement is critical,” he pressed, “No coalition endures without real commitment from its strongest members.”As buses and black Audis ferried leaders back into the Paris dusk, the realities on the ground did not wait. Ukrainian drones had reportedly struck deep targets in Russian territory, setting off fires and forcing hurried evacuations. Away from conference tables, the war's tempo remained relentless.Now, as the accord's legal details roll out in national capitals, each government must persuade skeptical lawmakers and wary publics. Only the specifics—the number of boots, the size of budgets, the durability of alliances—will show whether these plans amount to a lasting framework or another temporary patch.For the moment, Paris delivered hope in careful doses. Everyone inside those halls knew the difference between a promise and a deliverable. And outside, on Ukraine’s muddy roads, the war carried on—impatient for the paperwork to catch up.