In the last session of a “History of the Cold War” class that I teach at Harvard Extension School, I share images of how wars end, starting with iconic images such as the Japanese surrender on the deck of the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay and Nazi defendants being arraigned in the war crimes tribunal at Nuremberg. For many of my students, the way World War II ended is the default setting for international diplomacy: unconditional surrender, peace terms imposed, defeated powers subject to occupation and reconstruction along US preferences regarding democratic governance.
Of course, unconditional surrender came about as part of the willingness of the Allied powers to wage total war and to accept commensurate losses in blood and treasure. Even in the waning months of the war, when both German and Japanese peace feelers attempted to bargain for a negotiated settlement, the Allies refused and instead accepted additional casualties rather than allow existing governments in Berlin and Tokyo to remain in place.
When details of the “28 point plan” reportedly developed by the Trump administration for ending the conflict in Ukraine first leaked in November, the reaction of European and American political leaders and pundits was fierce. The rejoinder of EU High Commissioner for Foreign Affairs Kaja Kallas – a “two point plan” (Ukrainian victory and Russian defeat) – was enthusiastically repeated across the European media landscape.
The implication is clear: just as the Allies rejected various German and Japanese proposals for a negotiated end to the war, Ukraine (and by extension, its Western friends and partners) should brook no compromises with Moscow. Indeed, would-be policymakers on social media advanced an entire agenda for conflict termination that would not only see Russia give up control of all Ukrainian territory but accept demilitarization, denuclearization and the transportation of Vladimir Putin and other senior Russian government officials to the Hague for trial.
Promoting the image of the end of World War II as defining the range of acceptable solutions to end the Russia-Ukraine war is problematic. It makes any subsequent version of the 28-point proposal politically difficult for Western governments and it misleads Ukrainians that a new massive wave of Western support is coming to first stem and then reverse the Russian onslaught.
The problem is a major disconnect between the rhetoric of “unconditional surrender” and the practical requirements needed to realistically consider this as an option for war termination.
As of mid-December 2025, European institutions, nearly four years after the Russian invasion of Ukraine, cannot agree on the disposition of Russian state assets temporarily frozen in European banks. Despite the imposition of sanctions, Europeans continue to import a variety of raw materials from Russia, from natural gas to uranium, and the value of Western-Russian trade roughly equals the aid provided to Ukraine. European members of NATO have failed to make concrete progress on their promises to send military forces to Ukraine either to help secure its critical infrastructure or to become a credible tripwire to enforce any future ceasefire. Despite all the talk about the size of the combined North American/European economies, there has been no massive World War II-style increase in the capacity of defense-industrial bases to scale up production.
Some recent analyses suggests that the Ukrainian military needs not the drips and drabs of Western military castoffs, but hundreds of advanced fighter planes, thousands of new tanks and armored vehicles, and the components to construct tens of thousands of missiles and millions of drones in order to credibly deter the Russians from continuing the current war or, in the event of a ceasefire, starting a new conflict.
Proponents of moralpolitik generally respond by predicting that a massive Western effort will not be needed, because of their hope that Russia is nearing collapse and so will be unable to sustain its operations in Ukraine. Every social media image of a drone strike on a Russian refinery or oil tanker, every unconfirmed report of a supposed shortage of a key good in Russia, every speculation on the number of Russian casualties – all are taken as signs that the long-awaited day when Moscow throws in the towel is at hand. Yet Russia shows no signs of being in extremis. Predictions that Russia is running out of missiles “in two weeks” started in April 2022. Perhaps that day may come, but basing strategy on a timetable for Russian collapse does not seem to be prudent.
There are, of course, other images for war termination. Interestingly, senior Ukrainian figures like Ambassador Valeri Zaluzhnyy and Kyrylo Budanov, the head of military intelligence, recognize that the World War II image of war termination was an exception rather than the rule. Most wars end via negotiation and some degree of satisfactory compromise.
The other set of images I use in class are those of the 19th century European Congresses, starting with the 1815 Congress of Vienna. The Congress system focused less on achieving just outcomes in favor of promoting stability. Interestingly, many of the initial proposals in the 28-point plan would have been quite recognizable to “amoral” diplomatic eminences like France’s Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord or Austria’s Klemens von Metternich, who in constructing the post-Napoleonic European state system embraced limits on armed forces, treaty neutrality, and redrawing frontiers and lines of control. What animated many of the early Congresses, especially under the direction of Metternich, was to find ways to constrain and balance Russian power while accommodating Russian preferences.
It is easy to critique the 19th century Congress system on moral grounds. Yet the system functioned because it fundamentally adhered to Walter Lippmann’s power/commitment equilibrium: any obligations that are extended must be guaranteed by sufficient power to implement them (and the political will to use that power). The problem today is the two-part Kallas formula (Ukrainian victory, Russian defeat) has not, as of yet, matched either the European obligations or resources that such a strategy demands. And while the 28-point plan (even if it ends up being edited to 19 points or 14 points) is deeply unsatisfying, it starts from a premise of what amount of power the US and its partners are willing to bring to bear to achieve a settlement.
Those not satisfied with the Trump administration-led process must show how they will alter the Lippmann equilibrium to favor the outcome they prefer.
Right now, we do not have the requisite political conditions for accepting a compromise arrangement, but neither is there the necessary political support for the degree of support Ukraine would require to alter the current balance of power and force a Russian reversal. Unfortunately, this presages a continuation of bloodletting and destruction.
