The Chess Match in Alaska: Inside Putin’s Plan to Divide the West with Donald Trump
The world held its breath as two of its most formidable figures prepared to meet. The location: Alaska, a place of icy wilderness and unforgiving landscapes, now the stage for a high-stakes diplomatic encounter. The participants: Russian President Vladimir Putin and U.S. President Donald Trump. On the surface, the summit was billed as a pivotal moment for resolving the conflict in Ukraine. But for many, especially those watching from the capitals of Europe and Kyiv, it felt like a dangerous game. This was no simple negotiation; it was a complex chess match, and every move had been meticulously planned by Moscow long before the leaders even shook hands.
For over a year, Putin had been laying the groundwork for this moment. His so-called “peace plan” for Ukraine was never a genuine offer for a truce. It was a strategic maneuver designed to expose the West’s divisions and set a narrative that painted Russia as the aggrieved party. In June of 2024, Putin declared he would be ready for “immediate negotiations” only if Ukraine fully withdrew its troops from the regions of Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson. These four regions, which are only partially occupied by Russia, were annexed and declared part of Russian territory in a move that violated every principle of international law. The demand was a non-starter. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy had no legal or political power to cede sovereign territory, especially to a nation that viewed his government as an illegitimate “neo-Nazi regime” and the war as a mere “crisis.”
This seemingly absurd demand was repeated endlessly by Russian politicians and propagandists in the run-up to the Alaska summit. It served a dual purpose: it gave the illusion that Moscow was open to diplomacy while simultaneously framing Kyiv and its Western allies as the ones obstructing peace. The real Russian offer for peace was, in reality, a demand for complete capitulation, including a regime change in Kyiv, a constitutional overhaul, the demilitarization of Ukraine, and a ban on all Western military aid and any future NATO aspirations. It was a classic Russian playbook move: present an impossible set of conditions, then blame the other side for the failure to reach an agreement.
The mere fact that this summit was happening was a monumental diplomatic victory for Putin. His rejection of an initial proposal for a three-way summit that included Zelenskyy, followed by his acceptance of a private meeting with Trump, showed the world that he was in control of the diplomatic agenda. The journey to the U.S. itself was a symbolic act, a powerful signal that Russia was not isolated and that its leader was a force to be reckoned with on the global stage.
The summit offered Putin several strategic options. Journalist Alexey Venediktov, a former editor of the now-shuttered radio station Echo of Moscow, outlined these choices. Putin could continue the military operation in Ukraine as planned, ignoring the U.S. president’s wishes and bearing the consequences. Or, he could offer a minor concession to keep Trump “in his orbit,” an option he appeared to favor. This was a key part of the strategy: to prevent Trump from making what Moscow would consider a “wrong decision,” such as implementing new, harsher sanctions against Russia.
One of the rumored concessions was a temporary halt to the air campaign against Ukrainian cities, a move that would not stop the brutal ground war but would be a small gesture that could be presented as a good-faith effort. If Putin could secure a delay on new U.S. sanctions while continuing the war largely unabated, it would be a triumph. It would effectively drive a wedge between the U.S. and its European allies, whom Russian officials consistently describe as “hopelessly Russophobic.”
The Russian Foreign Ministry was quick to criticize the European leaders, including German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, who had met with Zelenskyy ahead of the summit. Russian officials dismissed their diplomatic efforts as “mere lip service,” claiming that the European Union was actively “sabotaging” a resolution by continuing to “pump weapons and money” into Ukraine. Russian state media framed the Alaska summit not just as a bilateral meeting, but as a sign of a “new world order” in the making, with the U.S. and Russia at its center, leaving Europe and Ukraine to fend for themselves.
The high-profile nature of the Russian delegation, which included Finance Minister Anton Siluanov and the head of the Foreign Investment Fund, Kirill Dmitriev, further highlighted Moscow’s true intentions. This was about more than just a ceasefire; it was about opening up new avenues for economic cooperation with the U.S., potentially bypassing the sanctions and the ongoing war. Putin’s foreign policy advisor, Yuriy Ushakov, hinted at this by mentioning the “enormous and unfortunately untapped potential” of bilateral economic cooperation.
In the end, the Alaska summit was never truly about a peaceful resolution to the war in Ukraine. It was a masterclass in diplomatic manipulation, designed to fracture the Western alliance, legitimize Putin’s position on the world stage, and secure future political and economic leverage. For the man from Moscow, this meeting was already a success before it even began, and the world watched, holding its collective breath, as the first moves of a new global chess game were played out on a cold, Alaskan day.
