Trump has a history of exploiting energy markets for political leverage. In 2020, at the height of the pandemic-induced oil crash, he brokered a historic agreement between OPEC+ members to slash production and stabilize prices. His close ties to Saudi Arabia’s Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman during his first term could, in theory, serve as an asset. Trump might attempt to persuade Riyadh to reverse course, flooding markets with oil and thereby hammering Russia’s bottom line. “If the price came down,” Trump said recently to a Davos crowd via video call, “the Russia-Ukraine war would end immediately.”
It is telling that Trump’s first call with a foreign leader was with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman
Yet such a gambit is fraught with peril. For Saudi Arabia, slashing oil prices makes little financial sense. Riyadh’s fiscal health depends on robust energy revenues, and it has shown little appetite for alienating Moscow, its OPEC+ partner. Indeed, many Gulf nations, wary of picking sides, have adopted a posture of studied neutrality in the conflict. The kingdom’s reluctance to sever ties with Moscow underscores the complexity of Trump’s challenge: any attempt to strong-arm OPEC+ into economic warfare risks unraveling the group’s delicate balance.
Trump’s relationship with Riyadh, once robust, would also need some mending. Since his first presidency, U.S.-Saudi ties have cooled under Joe Biden, who sharply criticized the kingdom’s human rights record and released intelligence implicating Mohammed bin Salman, the de facto ruler, in the killing of journalist Jamal Khashoggi. Trump’s deal-making approach, while unlikely to win friends among human rights advocates, might nonetheless appeal to Riyadh’s pragmatic instincts. But even then, coaxing Saudi Arabia into an overtly anti-Russian stance would require deft maneuvering—and no small amount of diplomatic charm.
To Moscow, Trump represents a largely known quantity. During his first term, Trump’s ambivalence toward NATO and his caustic rhetoric about European allies were interpreted as an opportunity for the Kremlin. Russian president Vladimir Putin may view Trump’s involvement as a chance to fracture the West’s unified stance on Ukraine and recalibrate relations with Washington. Yet Putin, the consummate and hard-nosed strategist, would approach such negotiations with caution. His goals—cementing territorial gains, denying NATO influence in Ukraine, and reasserting Russia’s dominance—remain non-negotiable.
For Ukraine, the picture is a fraught one. President Volodymyr Zelensky’s government has steadfastly insisted that any peace deal must respect Ukraine’s internationally recognized borders, including Crimea and the Donbas. Trump, however, has a history of casting doubt on U.S. commitments to Ukraine, including the cutting of aid, however insignificant for now. Zelensky’s administration would likely view Trump’s involvement with skepticism, fearing that part of his deal might mean that Ukraine must cede territory in exchange for peace.
Moreover, Trump’s ability to influence Putin may be overstated. Moscow has weathered an unprecedented array of sanctions while forging deeper economic ties with China, India, and other non-aligned states, a large part of which has organised itself under BRICS, a direct competitor to the G7. Any new sanctions Trump might propose would likely have limited impact, given the Kremlin’s efforts to move its trade away from Western markets. Indeed, Putin may calculate that prolonging the war—particularly as Ukraine’s military and economic resources are stretched thin—serves his strategic interests better than a negotiated settlement.
A frontline collapse in Ukraine before such a deal is made, would naturally give Russia considerable leverage at the negotiation table.
The Russia-Ukraine conflict is no longer a bilateral issue but a crucible of global power struggles. Any Trump-led effort to broker peace would unfold against a backdrop of competing interests, from NATO’s commitment to European security to China’s cautious but consistent backing of Moscow. Beijing, which has presented itself as a potential mediator, would view Trump’s involvement warily, particularly if it threatened to undercut its own influence in the region.
Trump’s contentious relationships with European leaders could further complicate matters. During his first term, his disdain for multilateralism and sharp criticism of NATO strained transatlantic ties. Rebuilding trust with Europe—a critical player in Ukraine’s reconstruction and long-term security—would be essential but difficult. Meanwhile, the prospect of Trump prioritizing short-term political gains over a durable settlement would likely amplify European skepticism about his ability to act as an honest broker.
The prospect of Trump brokering a peace deal in Ukraine may seem implausible, yet it is not entirely without precedent. His unconventional approach to diplomacy has, on occasion, yielded surprising breakthroughs. But this is no ordinary negotiation. The stakes are enormous, the interests deeply entrenched, and the risks of failure profound. A deal perceived as favoring one side over the other would almost certainly unravel, leaving the region—and the world—in an even more precarious state.
For now, Trump’s bold claims remain just that; mere claims. Resolution of the conflict will ultimately depend on more than force of personality. It will require a willingness by all parties to prioritize stability over ambition, pragmatism over pride. Whether Trump can marshal these priorities—and bring them out in others—remains one of the great unanswered questions of modern geopolitics.
