
One day after U.S. President Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin held a surprise phone call to discuss the war in Ukraine, a mix of confidence and unease settled over Moscow.
In the fourth year of Russia’s full-scale invasion, with hundreds of thousands dead and vast swathes of territory laid to ruin, the call appeared to some Russians as a sign that the tide might soon turn. But to others, it was just more political theater masking the ongoing brutality of war and uncertain peace.
“I just want this over,” said Anastasia, a 40-year-old homemaker from the Moscow suburbs, clutching a shopping bag while her youngest child tugged at her coat. “I love my country. I’m proud of it. But this needs to be decided now, not when my children are older.”
Anastasia, like many others interviewed in the capital, declined to give her full name — a reflection of the ever-present fear of reprisal under Russia’s strict wartime censorship laws. Expressing anti-war sentiments can carry severe penalties, from hefty fines to lengthy prison terms.
Her statement, however, was anything but peaceful. What she wanted wasn’t compromise. It was conquest.
“I hope Putin gets what he started. No more delays,” she said, echoing the rhetoric of state TV, which has been hammering home the message that Russia is winning — and must press its advantage while it can.
On Monday, Trump and Putin spoke for the first time since Trump formally launched his 2024 re-election campaign. In an unexpected twist, the former U.S. president described the tone of the call as “excellent,” and suggested that negotiations between Kyiv and Moscow could start “very soon.”
The Kremlin was quick to affirm the conversation, calling it “productive,” though it stopped short of revealing any specifics.
What is known is that Putin presented a vague “memorandum” outlining Russia’s conditions for peace: Ukrainian withdrawal from the Donetsk, Luhansk, Kherson, and Zaporizhzhia regions — all partially occupied and claimed by Moscow — and a written guarantee that Ukraine will never join NATO. Further, Putin reportedly insisted on a complete halt of Western military aid to Kyiv and the removal of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky from power.
In short, capitulation.
Ukrainian officials called the memo absurd and non-starter. Zelensky himself accused Russia of using the call to stall, saying: “They are not ready for peace. They are buying time to strike harder.”
For many Russians, however, the symbolism of the Trump-Putin call meant something deeper — a glimmer of diplomatic momentum after three years of carnage.
“It’s a sign. They are talking. That’s better than nothing,” said 72-year-old pensioner Sofiya, also from Moscow. “But still… I’m not sure what will come of it.”
Sofiya said she watched the evening news with her husband and hoped for a peaceful resolution, but admitted she didn’t trust either side — least of all Trump.
“He’s a businessman,” she said. “He wants what helps him win.”
While the Trump call was received warmly by Russian state media, analysts say it changes little on the ground — where a brutal summer offensive is now in motion.
Konstantin Kalachev, a Moscow-based political analyst, said that despite the talks, Putin has no intention of slowing down.
“This is tactical,” Kalachev told local media. “Putin sees an opportunity. Russia has the upper hand now. Why stop?”
Indeed, recent weeks have seen Russian forces push deeper into eastern Ukraine, capturing small villages near Avdiivka and Chasiv Yar. Drones and missiles continue to pound cities like Kharkiv, and the frontline shows no sign of stabilizing.
Western intelligence reports suggest that Russia is preparing a broader summer campaign, hoping to exploit Ukraine’s thinning resources and delays in Western weapons deliveries.
“Russia is gambling on exhaustion — political, military, and economic,” said Kalachev. “If Ukraine breaks, Putin wins. That’s the bet.”
On the streets of Moscow, patriotism remains high — driven by relentless propaganda, war fatigue, and fear. But so, too, does confusion.
“Honestly, no one knows what’s really happening,” said Andrei, a 28-year-old engineer. “State TV tells us we’re winning. Telegram tells us we’re dying. I don’t know who to believe anymore.”
Still, Andrei said he supported the war, even if he didn’t understand it. “We’ve gone too far to stop now. We can’t pull back. That would be humiliation.”
Others, like Marina, a 70-year-old pensioner, took a harder line.
“Odesa, Kharkiv, Kyiv — they’re all Russian cities,” she declared. “We should take them. We should have done it already.”
Marina’s opinion, though extreme, reflects the fevered nationalism that has come to define public discourse in wartime Russia. Her words echo those of popular talk show hosts like Yevgeny Popov, who recently warned that Moscow’s demands would only grow if Kyiv refuses to submit.
“If the four regions are not recognized, the next time there will be six,” Popov said on a primetime broadcast.
It’s rhetoric that stirs pride in some and dread in others.
“I just want peace,” said Sofiya. “But I fear we are only at the beginning.”
Since the invasion began in February 2022, Russia has enacted sweeping laws to suppress dissent. Anti-war protesters have been jailed, independent journalists silenced, and social media tightly controlled. Even the word “war” is taboo — replaced in official discourse by the sanitized term “special military operation.”
Zelensky’s claims that Russia is not negotiating in good faith are supported by many Western analysts, who say Moscow’s peace terms are so unrealistic that they amount to a demand for surrender.
Even the Istanbul peace talks, hailed by Russian media as a major breakthrough, produced no concrete results. Ukraine refused to withdraw from any additional territory, and Russia reiterated its maximalist demands.
Still, the Kremlin appears determined to portray diplomacy as part of a broader strategy — one that might lure the West into lifting sanctions or fracture Ukraine’s alliances with the U.S. and Europe.
Trump, who has long expressed admiration for Putin and once declared he could end the war in “24 hours,” remains a polarizing figure on both sides of the conflict.
In Ukraine, his return to center stage is seen with alarm. In Moscow, it’s a mixed bag.
“Trump wants what’s good for Trump,” said Anastasia. “He’s not a friend. He just wants a deal that benefits him.”
Yet some Russians — especially those disillusioned with decades of hostility with the West — see Trump as a possible mediator who could break the impasse.
“Maybe he’s crazy enough to do something different,” said Andrei.
As the summer of 2025 unfolds, Ukraine faces growing pressure on the battlefield and at the negotiating table. U.S. and European support remains critical, but the political climate in Washington is increasingly divided — especially with Trump dominating the Republican primary.
For Russia, the next steps may hinge on whether its military gains continue and whether Western unity begins to crack.
Back in Moscow, Marina’s words summed up the hardened mood of a nation at war:
“It’s a shame our boys are dying. But what else can we do? We can’t stop now. We must finish it.”