Zelenskyy Defies Trump Ultimatum: No Land for Peace, No Compromise

Paul Riverbank, 12/10/2025Zelenskyy rejects Trump’s land-for-peace push, vowing Ukraine won’t cede territory under global pressure.

“Giving away land is not an option; not by our laws, not by international standards, and not by any measure of common decency,” Zelenskyy told reporters after a tense string of meetings in Berlin. Standing alongside Britain’s Keir Starmer and Germany’s Friedrich Merz, he hardly needed to spell it out: the idea of ceding land to Russia, even for peace, simply doesn’t fly in Kyiv.

But outside Ukraine’s borders, the wind is blowing differently. The Trump administration’s latest push—delivered with the trademark bluntness of the former president—suggests it’s time for Ukraine to accept some hard realities. The recipe? Leave Crimea, Donetsk, and Luhansk under Russian control. Split Kherson and Zaporizhzhia along whichever shifting battle lines happen to exist. To call the proposal tough would be to understate Ukraine’s reaction; it’s a pill Zelenskyy’s circle won’t swallow, not now, perhaps not ever.

Trump, in his unmistakable manner, acknowledged Ukraine’s grit but minced no words about who’s on the front foot. “Size wins, generally!” he told Politico, tossing both praise and challenge in Ukraine’s direction. “The Ukrainian people are brave, their army’s impressive, but they need to come to terms with what is.” Some in Washington and parts of Europe echo that message—tough choices, they say, can’t be dodged forever.

That thinking is hardly subtle. The notion of “land swapping” has already done the rounds in the closed rooms where these deals are dissected. The American offer, after repeated edits and behind-the-scenes haggling, was finally trimmed to a 20-point document—Zelenskyy himself called out the “anti-Ukrainian” language that was scrubbed after tough arguments.

Yet Ukraine’s leader stands his ground. “We simply do not have the right,” he repeated, citing not only Ukrainian law but also his country’s battered but unyielding sense of moral responsibility. In an echo of conversations everywhere from Warsaw to Washington, the question is not just legal—it's deeply emotional. Giving up land that has tasted so much pain? For many Ukrainians, it’s out of the question.

As if territorial questions weren’t heated enough, Trump recently fanned the flames with a call for fresh Ukrainian elections. “It’s time,” he argued, pointing out that Zelenskyy’s original term expired even as martial law put democracy—at least as far as the voting booth is concerned—on pause since 2022. “When does it cease being a democracy?” Trump jabbed, noting that even Putin has found ammunition in Ukraine’s postponed polls.

But in Kyiv, officials bristle at the suggestion. Elections, they point out, would require security most towns and cities simply can’t guarantee—not while Russian missiles keep falling. Bringing voters to polling stations could mean loss of life on a scale that no democratic principle justifies. For now, martial law holds firm, regardless of Western pressure.

While American impatience sometimes echoes across the Atlantic, it’s the Europeans who seem most keen on nuance. Prime Minister Starmer labeled this a “critical” stage, and Friedrich Merz pressed for guarantees—a peace, he argued, must come with some insurance that Russia won’t simply regroup and strike again. Meanwhile, in Rome, the Pope weighed in, careful not to pick a side but clear on one point: a just peace is needed, and only genuine gestures from Moscow will help.

And so, the war grinds on. Russia continues hammering Ukraine’s cities and infrastructure, now holding about a fifth of the country. Ukrainian forces strike back with drones—grainy Telegram videos carry images of burning oil depots deep behind enemy lines. Every night, somewhere in Ukraine, lights flicker out as new attacks spark more blackouts and leave entire neighborhoods shrouded in cold darkness.

Peace, if it’s coming, is still buried deep beneath layers of exhaustion, principle, and raw survival. For Zelenskyy, giving up ground is synonymous with giving up the fight—and for now, that’s a line he won’t cross. Western leaders, caught between empathy and exasperation, watch the clock tick. And while missiles fall and diplomats talk, Ukraine holds out, unwilling to bend even as the world debates how long its resistance can last.

It’s another busy evening in Kyiv. Sirens wail in the distance, and the muted glow from makeshift emergency lamps hints at a city doing its best to carry on. Against this backdrop, President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, shoulders squared and voice steady, once again made it clear—no piece of Ukraine, not even the smallest corner, is up for negotiation.“Giving away land is not an option; not by our laws, not by international standards, and not by any measure of common decency,” Zelenskyy told reporters after a tense string of meetings in Berlin. Standing alongside Britain’s Keir Starmer and Germany’s Friedrich Merz, he hardly needed to spell it out: the idea of ceding land to Russia, even for peace, simply doesn’t fly in Kyiv.But outside Ukraine’s borders, the wind is blowing differently. The Trump administration’s latest push—delivered with the trademark bluntness of the former president—suggests it’s time for Ukraine to accept some hard realities. The recipe? Leave Crimea, Donetsk, and Luhansk under Russian control. Split Kherson and Zaporizhzhia along whichever shifting battle lines happen to exist. To call the proposal tough would be to understate Ukraine’s reaction; it’s a pill Zelenskyy’s circle won’t swallow, not now, perhaps not ever.Trump, in his unmistakable manner, acknowledged Ukraine’s grit but minced no words about who’s on the front foot. “Size wins, generally!” he told Politico, tossing both praise and challenge in Ukraine’s direction. “The Ukrainian people are brave, their army’s impressive, but they need to come to terms with what is.” Some in Washington and parts of Europe echo that message—tough choices, they say, can’t be dodged forever.That thinking is hardly subtle. The notion of “land swapping” has already done the rounds in the closed rooms where these deals are dissected. The American offer, after repeated edits and behind-the-scenes haggling, was finally trimmed to a 20-point document—Zelenskyy himself called out the “anti-Ukrainian” language that was scrubbed after tough arguments.Yet Ukraine’s leader stands his ground. “We simply do not have the right,” he repeated, citing not only Ukrainian law but also his country’s battered but unyielding sense of moral responsibility. In an echo of conversations everywhere from Warsaw to Washington, the question is not just legal—it's deeply emotional. Giving up land that has tasted so much pain? For many Ukrainians, it’s out of the question.As if territorial questions weren’t heated enough, Trump recently fanned the flames with a call for fresh Ukrainian elections. “It’s time,” he argued, pointing out that Zelenskyy’s original term expired even as martial law put democracy—at least as far as the voting booth is concerned—on pause since 2022. “When does it cease being a democracy?” Trump jabbed, noting that even Putin has found ammunition in Ukraine’s postponed polls.But in Kyiv, officials bristle at the suggestion. Elections, they point out, would require security most towns and cities simply can’t guarantee—not while Russian missiles keep falling. Bringing voters to polling stations could mean loss of life on a scale that no democratic principle justifies. For now, martial law holds firm, regardless of Western pressure.While American impatience sometimes echoes across the Atlantic, it’s the Europeans who seem most keen on nuance. Prime Minister Starmer labeled this a “critical” stage, and Friedrich Merz pressed for guarantees—a peace, he argued, must come with some insurance that Russia won’t simply regroup and strike again. Meanwhile, in Rome, the Pope weighed in, careful not to pick a side but clear on one point: a just peace is needed, and only genuine gestures from Moscow will help.And so, the war grinds on. Russia continues hammering Ukraine’s cities and infrastructure, now holding about a fifth of the country. Ukrainian forces strike back with drones—grainy Telegram videos carry images of burning oil depots deep behind enemy lines. Every night, somewhere in Ukraine, lights flicker out as new attacks spark more blackouts and leave entire neighborhoods shrouded in cold darkness.Peace, if it’s coming, is still buried deep beneath layers of exhaustion, principle, and raw survival. For Zelenskyy, giving up ground is synonymous with giving up the fight—and for now, that’s a line he won’t cross. Western leaders, caught between empathy and exasperation, watch the clock tick. And while missiles fall and diplomats talk, Ukraine holds out, unwilling to bend even as the world debates how long its resistance can last.