By Nina Bachkatov
If summits are a barometer of international relations, August and early September 2025 have been unusually busy. It began in Anchorage on 15 August, when President Trump warmly shook hands with President Putin—without extracting any concessions. The encounter alarmed President Zelensky, who rushed to Washington to set the record straight, backed by European allies keen to assert their weight and prevent another public humiliation of Ukraine’s leader by “Daddy Trump.” There were much flattery and thanks, but little substance.
After that, “historic summits” became a near-daily occurrence, often convened at short notice. There were duos, trios, quartets—an entire diplomatic orchestra—until President Macron called a “hybrid” summit in Paris on 4 September, with Zelensky in attendance. The self-styled “coalition of the willing” wanted to present its own plan after Trump had challenged them to do so. Hybrid in format (some leaders in person, others by video), it also mixed those with authority to deploy troops with EU officials who lacked such powers. At the last minute, they were joined by Trump’s envoy, Steve Witkoff.
Willing and ready
Macron’s goal was to show that the coalition of 26 was not only a moral force but also a military one. Their plans for a “force of reassurance” drew on military scenarios covering “land, sea and air” security prepared by their military staffs. But most prefer to remain in Ukraine’s neighbouring states and focus on financing arms production. Key countries—Germany, the UK, Poland and Italy—ruled out sending troops on the ground. Budgetary limits and lack of public support weigh heavily.
Two elephants loom in the corridor. One is Putin: any security guarantee depends on Russia accepting a ceasefire, peace agreement or armistice (now, wrongly, used as synonyms). The other is Trump: the 26 will act only if assured of American backing to protect their own security.
For now, Europe must rely on Trump as a go-between with Moscow, having cut ties with Russian officials and even business networks, while the US-Russia Chamber of Commerce remains active. After the Paris summit, European leaders had to call Trump, who replied that he would “think it over.” Soon after, Putin declared that any Western forces in Ukraine would be “legitimate targets.” In Washington, well-placed sources suggested the US would begin phasing out security assistance to European states bordering Russia in order to focus on China.
The Tianjin spirit
If Trump was irritated by Putin, he was even more so by the spectacle in China from 31 August to 3 September. He had toyed with the idea of a trilateral summit with Putin and Xi to mark the Second World War victory, both in Europe and the Pacific. Instead, global media showed a beaming Xi Jinping hosting Putin and India’s prime minister, Narendra Modi, in Tianjin.
The meeting launched the 10th anniversary celebrations of the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO). It expanded into “SCO+”, bringing in observer states and international organisations, including UN secretary-general António Guterres. The participants adopted the Tianjin Declaration, with Xi hailing the “Tianjin spirit” as a “dynamic with global reach” grounded in multipolarity and a just international order.
The leaders, minus Modi, then moved to Beijing for the military parade marking Japan’s surrender in 1945. Chinese officials emphasised that all weapons on display were “domestically produced” and “combat ready.” The message was clear: China is no longer the rising power of a decade ago, and the Pacific is not Washington’s exclusive preserve. Unlike the OSCE or BRICS, which stressed trade and economic ties, this show of military force underlined Beijing’s ambition to reshape the global order.
Hard lessons
Western leaders dismissed Tianjin as an “anti-western” coalition. Europeans downplayed it as a “regional gathering,” pointing to internal contradictions. Yet the group represents 40 per cent of the world’s population and nearly a third of global output, spread across three continents. Its energy policy alone could reshape global markets. The guest list included five states under Western sanctions—Russia, Belarus, North Korea, Iran and Myanmar—and three facing punitive tariffs: India, China and Brazil. Xi seized the moment, claiming “this is a real international community too” and denouncing sanctions as “neo-colonialism.”
Few participants want to fall fully into Russia’s or China’s orbit, but many resent being forced into choices by the West. Most cling to “multi-vector” foreign policies. The Tianjin Declaration gave shape to the nebulous concept of the Global South: nine SCO members, partners and observers also belong to BRICS, alongside Beijing and Moscow, while managing rivalry between them.
Ukraine featured in discussions but not in the Declaration, which instead condemned Israeli strikes on Gaza and US bombardments in Iran. Putin’s narrative—that Russia was forced to defend itself against a Nato-backed coup in Kyiv—found a receptive audience.
In Washington, Trump’s attention veered elsewhere: a blockade of Venezuela, suspicions about China, rumours about his health. Ukraine risks slipping down his agenda, especially if Europeans treat him as a menace as much as an ally. He may yet revive plans for a trilateral summit with Putin and Zelensky—but such talks, absent discreet groundwork, would almost certainly end in failure.
In truth, negotiations have yet to begin.