COMMENTARY: Istanbul 2022 as a condition — Putin freezes diplomacy

The June 23 declaration

On June 23, 2026, during an operational meeting with members of his government, Vladimir Putin said the following: "Russia is ready for peace negotiations with Ukraine. Ready on the basis of the agreements reached in Istanbul and, let me remind you, which were initialed by the Ukrainian delegation. So they were satisfied with everything at that time. I see no reason to move away from those agreements." Reported by the Russian press and confirmed by Ukrainska Pravda, this declaration is presented by Moscow as proof of diplomatic goodwill.

In reality, it is the opposite. Demanding that negotiations begin on the basis of a previous text that one party considers deeply inequitable — and which never produced a final agreement — is not an opening. It is a closing. Putin is not proposing to talk — he is announcing the terms of Ukrainian surrender and waiting for the other side to subscribe to them.

What Istanbul 2022 really was

The Istanbul negotiations took place in March-April 2022, a few weeks after the start of the large-scale Russian invasion. Ukraine, whose forces had repelled the initial assault on Kyiv, was nonetheless in a state of extreme vulnerability. Preliminary talks took place and a draft document was discussed — but it was never signed, nor even fully negotiated. Putin presents this draft as "initialed agreements." That is a distortion of the facts that deserves to be dismantled.

The myth of the "initialed Istanbul agreements" is one of the most persistent manipulations in Russian diplomatic discourse. It allows Putin to present himself as the reasonable party simply seeking to return to what had already been agreed — when what was "agreed" under military coercion never constituted a valid agreement under the standards of international law.

What the facts of spring 2022 tell us

In March and April 2022, Ukrainian and Russian delegations met in several cities — first Belarus, then Turkey. A preliminary document was indeed discussed in Istanbul. But this document was not "initialed" in the legal sense — meaning a signature on each page committing the parties to pursue negotiations. It was a working text, preliminary, discussed but not finalized.

Above all, the circumstances in which this text was drafted are crucial. Ukraine was negotiating under partial occupation of its territory, with Russian forces a few dozen kilometers from Kyiv. Russian demands included permanent neutrality for Ukraine, drastic limits on its armed forces, and clauses that would have made any Western alliance impossible. Russia's chief negotiator, Vladimir Medinsky, had explicitly threatened to seize Sumy and Kharkiv if Ukraine refused to yield, proclaiming: "We fought Sweden for 21 years. How long are you prepared to fight?"

Why the negotiations collapsed: the Bucha question

The Istanbul negotiations did in fact pause — and both sides blame each other for that failure. The Russian version is that Ukraine yielded to pressure from its Western allies. The Ukrainian version is different: the discovery of the Bucha atrocities — hundreds of Ukrainian civilians killed by Russian forces during the occupation — made it politically and morally impossible to continue negotiating with a state that had just committed documented war crimes. It is hard to fault Ukraine on this point.

I want to stop at Bucha. Hundreds of civilians tortured and executed. And Ukraine is asked, a few weeks after the discovery of these horrors, to resume negotiations with the same men who ordered those operations? The question of good faith is not a diplomatic footnote — it is the prerequisite of any serious dialogue.

What Bloomberg revealed about the secret May 2022 meeting

According to a Bloomberg report on a closed-door meeting in Istanbul in May 2022, Russian representatives had presented the Ukrainian delegation with the conditions under which Moscow would agree to a ceasefire: Ukraine had to renounce its territorial claims, including on the partially occupied oblasts and on Crimea, and abandon any right to reparations for the destruction caused by the Russian invasion. These conditions were not the framework for a compromise — they were the list of gains that Russia hoped to obtain at the negotiating table what it could not obtain on the battlefield.

Putin now adds a third condition: negotiations must reflect "the realities on the ground." In June 2026, these "realities" include Russian occupation of Crimea since 2014, and the partial occupation of the oblasts of Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson since 2022. Accepting these "realities" as a starting point amounts to recognizing Moscow's right to keep territories obtained through aggression — which international law explicitly prohibits.

The Anchorage reference: even more recent, equally unacceptable

Putin also references "the modalities discussed in Anchorage" — a reference to discussions between Putin and U.S. President Donald Trump at a summit in August 2025. These discussions, whose exact details remain partially confidential, reportedly concerned a general framework for resolving the conflict. The inclusion of this reference in Putin's conditions is significant: it suggests that Moscow is seeking to leverage statements made by Trump to impose on Kyiv a framework that Ukrainians would not have approved themselves.

The use of the Anchorage reference in Putin's discourse is very clever — and very troubling. If Trump said something to Putin in Anchorage that resembles a validation of certain Russian positions, Moscow will use it as leverage to weaken Ukraine's position at the negotiating table. That is why transparency among allies about red lines is crucial.

Lavrov and the mechanics of peaceful appearances

Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov declared on June 23, 2026 that Russia is ready for negotiations "at any time." This formula has been used for months as a refrain. Examined closely, it is devoid of concrete content. "At any time" actually means "under conditions defined unilaterally by Moscow." Russia is not proposing to talk openly — it is proposing that Ukraine come and accept its terms.

This communication strategy aims to reverse the burden of proof: by repeatedly stating that it is "ready at any time," Russia places Ukraine in the position of the party refusing dialogue. It is a sophisticated lie, but it is a lie that many repeat without analyzing it. The international press, neutral governments, multilateral organizations — many echo the formula without contextualizing the conditions that render it inoperative.

Zelensky's challenge: talking without submitting

Faced with this Russian strategy, Zelensky is in a delicate position. If he refuses any preliminary discussion with Moscow, he risks being portrayed as the obstacle to peace. If he agrees to talk on the basis of Russian conditions, he legitimizes aggression. His solution is to multiply signals of openness to dialogue — open letters, meeting proposals, offers transmitted through third parties — while maintaining that he will not abandon his fundamental red lines. It is a difficult balance, but it is the only tenable position for a leader whose country is under attack.

What strikes me about Zelensky's posture is the intellectual clarity with which he manages this asymmetric pressure. He knows that every gesture of dialogue he makes will be used by Moscow to demand more. He makes those gestures anyway because he knows that peace will eventually have to pass through a table. But he sets limits. That is leadership, not stubbornness.

Russian advances from 2022 to 2026: the balance sheet

Since the start of the large-scale invasion in February 2022, Russian forces have occupied significant portions of the oblasts of Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia, and Kherson. Crimea has been occupied since 2014. The ISW and other analysts document slow but continuous Russian advances on certain segments of the front, particularly in the Donbas. These "realities" exist — but they were created by force, not by law.

When Putin says negotiations must reflect "the realities on the ground," he is demanding that these illegal gains be crystallized into a permanent ceasefire line. That is the model of the Minsk I and II agreements (2014–2015) — which froze a conflict in de facto recognition of Russian gains without resolving them. That model led to the large-scale war of 2022. There is no reason to believe a repetition of Minsk would yield a different result.

Ukraine is not without military options

Putin's analysis of "realities on the ground" omits a fundamental element: Ukraine's deep-strike capability. Ukraine regularly strikes Russian territory — oil infrastructure, weapons factories, military bases — hundreds of kilometers from the front lines. This constant pressure changes the cost calculation for Moscow. The 28 strikes on oil infrastructure in June 2026 according to the ISW, the 660 drones launched on June 27 — these operations prove that the "realities on the ground" include a Ukraine capable of directly threatening Russia's economy and security.

Ukraine's deep strikes inside Russia are, I believe, one of the reasons Putin is finally talking about negotiations — even if it is to set the terms in an unacceptable manner. The pain is beginning to be felt. This is the beginning of an evolution, not yet a genuine will for peace, but an acknowledgment that the status quo is becoming increasingly costly.

Turkey: symbolic host but limited player

Turkey played a mediating role in 2022 and continues to offer its services. Ankara is hosting the NATO summit on July 7 and 8, 2026. But Turkey has its own interests in this conflict — it maintains commercial relations with Russia while supporting Ukraine — which limits its ability to genuinely push Moscow toward real concessions.

Other potential mediators — China, India, Gulf states — all have relationships with Russia that prevent them from pressing for a genuinely just peace. Ukraine has understood that its only true allies are those who share its fundamental values — Western democracies. But these allies must themselves speak with a unified voice, which is not always the case given the internal divisions within the EU, notably the position of France and Italy, which opposed in June 2026 an entry ban for former Russian soldiers.

The role of "Putin's friends" in mediation

Zelensky has transmitted proposals to "Putin's friends" — a pragmatic acknowledgment that certain countries with ties to Moscow can play a transmission role that Western allies cannot. This multi-channel approach is intelligent. It maximizes communication pathways without implying any compromise on substantive positions. If a country like the United Arab Emirates or Turkey can convey to Putin the message that Ukrainian resistance will not weaken and that the costs of war will continue to accumulate, that has value.

I have no illusions about "Putin's friends." These countries will not push Russia to accept a just peace — their interests forbid it. But they can help create a sense that the conflict is costly and without an exit. And sometimes that is enough to begin a shift in calculations.

The 300 billion in Russian assets: leverage or taboo?

Since the start of the large-scale invasion in February 2022, G7 countries have frozen approximately 300 billion dollars in Russian sovereign assets — mainly reserves of the Russian Central Bank held in Western financial systems. The European Union, under G7 pressure, made the historic decision to use the revenues generated by these frozen assets to fund military aid to Ukraine — approximately 3 billion euros per year. But the use of the capital itself remains a subject of intense legal and political debate.

Putin has explicitly made the frozen assets a negotiating point — their unfreezing being part of the implicit conditions Moscow attaches to any peace agreement. For his part, Zelensky demands that these assets be used for Ukraine's reconstruction — a form of de facto reparations. This asymmetry is fundamental: if the West returns Russian assets to Russia as part of a peace agreement without having used them for reconstruction, it hands Putin a financial victory that will fund the next conflict.

Reparations: precedent and resistance

The question of war reparations is historically charged. The reparations imposed on Germany after the First World War via the Treaty of Versailles (1919) contributed to the economic and political instability that fostered the rise of Nazism. This precedent fuels a principled resistance to excessive reparations. But the Ukrainian situation is fundamentally different: the issue is not punishing a nation for its government's crimes, but compelling an aggressor state to bear the costs of its destruction — a principle aligned with modern international law, notably Article 36 of the Rome Statute.

The UN General Assembly resolution of November 14, 2022 — adopted by 94 votes in favor — explicitly called on Russia to pay reparations to Ukraine. This non-binding vote has no executive force, but it establishes an international normative consensus on Russian responsibility. Any peace agreement that ignores this responsibility will be seen as a moral capitulation by Ukraine and its allies.

The 300 billion in frozen Russian assets are not abstract money — they are the resources Russia will use to rebuild its war economy if it gets them back. Allowing their return without compensation would be financing the next aggression. This reality must be at the heart of any discussion about a possible peace agreement.

Ukrainian resilience: a structural factor

Ukraine's resistance to Russian aggression since 2022 has produced a profound transformation of Ukrainian society. The level of Ukrainian national identification has reached record highs — even among Russian-speaking populations in the East, according to multiple surveys from 2024–2026. The national defense industry has been massively developed, with production of drones, ammunition, and weapons systems that makes it today one of the most active in Europe. Ukraine is no longer the fragile, corrupt state of 2013 — it is a nation forged in war, with a determination to defend its independence that few would have anticipated in 2021.

This transformation has direct implications for negotiations. The Ukraine of 2026 will not accept a capitulation peace that the Ukraine of 2022, in a state of shock, might have considered. Zelensky represents a people who have paid an immense price for their freedom — and that people will not forgive a leader who betrays that sacrifice for a hasty agreement. This is a domestic political reality that Western partners must understand when pressing Kyiv toward compromises.

Ukrainian red lines: non-negotiable

Over four years of war, several red lines have clearly emerged in the Ukrainian position. Permanent neutrality — which would exclude Ukraine from NATO or any collective security mechanism — is unacceptable. Recognition of the annexation of Crimea and the four oblasts occupied since 2022 is unacceptable. The waiving of reparations without real financial compensation for reconstruction is unacceptable. These red lines are not a negotiating posture — they are the conditions without which any peace would be perceived by Ukraine as a Russian victory.

Whether Putin understands these red lines, whether he integrates them into his strategic calculation, is the prerequisite for any serious negotiation. As long as Moscow believes that pressure on Ukraine's allies — war fatigue, budget constraints, political divisions — can force Kyiv into concessions on these fundamental points, there is no incentive for him to negotiate in good faith. Allied solidarity is not only moral — it is strategic.

The Ukraine of 2026 is no longer the vulnerable country of 2022. It has forged its national identity in the fire of war, developed its defense capabilities, and proven its resilience. That Ukraine deserves a peace agreement that reflects its dignity and its moral victory — not an arrangement that rewards the aggressor. And the allies who supported it are obligated to ensure the same.

Istanbul must be historicized, not resurrected

The "Istanbul agreements" of 2022 belong to their context: a war of a few weeks, a Ukraine in shock yet resisting, preliminary negotiations under extreme military pressure. Four years later, the conflict has changed radically. Ukraine has proven its capacity for resistance, its forces are battle-hardened, and its international support — though uneven — remains substantial. Using the 2022 text as the basis for 2026 means denying all of that evolution. It is Putin's attempt to turn back the clock to a moment when he held more cards.

Diplomacy must rest on law

My conclusion is simple: Istanbul 2022 cannot be the basis for peace in 2026. Not because Ukraine refuses all negotiation — it wants negotiations. But because a peace founded on that text would be a peace of capitulation, not a peace of justice. And a peace of capitulation is not a peace. It is a pause before the next war.

Diplomacy must rest on international law, the resolutions of the United Nations, the principles of sovereignty and territorial integrity — not on a text negotiated under military occupation. That is the only basis on which lasting peace can be built. Putin knows this — which is precisely why he wants Istanbul. Ukraine's allies must hold firm on this point. Istanbul 2022 is not the future of Ukrainian diplomacy — it is a relic of a moment of weakness that Ukraine has managed to overcome.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Editorial stance

I am not a journalist but a columnist and analyst. My expertise lies in observing and analysing the geopolitical, economic and strategic dynamics that shape our world. My work is to take political strategies apart, to understand global economic movements, to put the decisions of international actors in context and to offer analytical perspectives on the changes that are redefining our societies.

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