Trump’s 28-point peace plan forced Ukraine into an impossible choice. Europe quietly built a new power centre: a “coalition of the willing” that aims to turn a risky deal into a defensible peace.

By Carlos Taylhardat | 3 Narratives News | November 25, 2025

On paper, the new peace architecture for Ukraine runs through Donald Trump’s 28-point proposal and a negotiating table where Russia still holds occupied territory. But in practice, something else has taken shape in the background: a tight circle of European capitals that Zelensky now calls the

“coalition of the willing”

a group of states prepared to shoulder long-term security guarantees, sanctions pressure and even a potential peacekeeping presence if a ceasefire is ever signed.

In our last two pieces, we followed this shift from Kyiv’s point of view. First came “Ukraine’s Impossible Choice: Trump’s 28-Point Peace Plan and the Price of U.S. Support”, where Zelensky was told he “doesn’t have the cards” and had to weigh dignity against alliance. Then, in “Europe vs. the Kremlin: Can Trump’s 28-Point Ukraine Peace Plan Really ‘Stop the Killing’ Before Winter?”, we saw how Paris, London, Berlin and others began to push their way into the talks, determined not to let Washington and Moscow alone decide Europe’s fate.

Now, his quest for peace has taken a new development and a coalition that has now emerged from those efforts. Who exactly is in this “coalition of the willing”? What do they stand for as a group? And how, despite Russian pressure and American unpredictability, do they imagine grinding toward a peace that Ukraine can live with?

Context: From Impossible Choice to European Power Centre

Throughout 2025, Ukraine’s alliances kept shifting by inches. In public, Trump’s envoys promoted a deal that promised to “stop the killing” in 30 days if Kyiv accepted a strict ceasefire, limits on its military and a freeze around Russia’s current lines. In private, Ukrainian officials described it as the narrowest of bridges, a path that could either end the war or freeze it in a form that rewarded aggression.

Europe, meanwhile, was moving on a parallel track. In London, Paris and other capitals, leaders who had spent three years watching the war reshape their own security began to talk about something more formal than ad-hoc arms deliveries. What emerged was a European-led “coalition of the willing”: a group now numbering more than two dozen countries, led politically by Britain and France, that has pledged stronger military backing, deeper sanctions and, when conditions allow, a multinational force on Ukrainian soil to police any ceasefire and deter renewed Russian attacks.

For Zelensky, this coalition is more than a slogan. It is the main card he still holds in a game where Russia controls territory, and the United States controls much of the leverage. With clear support from Europe, he can argue that any peace deal must come with binding security guarantees, not another paper promise like the Budapest Memorandum, and that Ukraine will not be left alone if Russia breaks the rules again.

Yet the coalition is also fragile. Its members have different histories with Moscow, different economies tied to Russian energy, different domestic politics and different levels of risk appetite. To understand the coalition of the willing, it helps to see it through two opposing lenses.

Narrative 1: Europe’s Lifeline for Ukraine — and for Itself

In the first worldview, the coalition of the willing is not just another diplomatic label; it is Europe’s answer to a generational question. If the continent fails to protect Ukraine now, what does “European security” mean at all?

Watch: In this video, UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer hosts a virtual meeting on the “coalition of the willing,” where European leaders discuss how to support Ukraine and shape any future peace.

From this perspective, the coalition is built around a simple idea: Europeans can no longer outsource their survival to a U.S. president who openly questions alliances and praises strongmen. They must be able to deter Russia even if Washington gets distracted, divided or tired.

In practice, the coalition has a clear core. It is led politically by the United Kingdom and France, with Germany as the largest EU economy, Poland and the Baltic states as frontline neighbours, and a ring of other EU and NATO members: Italy, Spain, the Netherlands, the Nordics, Czechia, Romania and others. Around the table, you also see Canada, Japan, Australia and New Zealand, partners who are not European but have decided that the outcome of this war will shape their own security as well.

Most of these countries have already signed long-term security agreements with Kyiv, promising at least a decade of military aid, training and defence-industrial projects rather than one-off weapon drops. When Zelensky thanks the “coalition of the willing” in Paris or London, he is talking about this group of states that has put its name on paper and its credibility on the line.

Their leaders have begun speaking in unusually direct language. Emmanuel Macron describes Ukraine as “central to Europe’s security” and has presented the coalition as a guarantee that Kyiv will not be abandoned “the day after the guns fall silent.” In Paris, he announced that more than two dozen countries are ready to form a post-war

“reassurance force”

soldiers, ships, aircraft and trainers whose job would not be to fight Russia, but to make breaking a peace deal far more costly.

Britain’s prime minister has called this a “once-in-a-generation moment” in which Europe must “do the heavy lifting” for its own defence. In London and Paris, he has defended the coalition as the missing pillar of any peace plan: the part that turns signed paper and Trump’s 28 points into a real deterrent that Moscow has to take seriously, instead of a pause to reload.

Other voices fill in the picture. Poland and the Baltic states stress that “there is no safe Europe if Ukraine is left in a grey zone.” Nordic leaders talk about turning their new NATO memberships into concrete air and missile defence coverage for Ukraine. Canada and Japan frame their commitments as part of a wider stand against aggression: if Russia is rewarded for invasion in Europe, what message does that send in Asia?

Zelensky, standing beside these leaders after yet another summit, tends to repeat one simple line in different forms: that his country is asking not only for weapons but for “security — the kind that makes peace mean something.” For him, the coalition of the willing is the vessel for that idea: a promise that if he accepts a ceasefire or peace agreement, there will be real power standing behind it, not just memories of the Budapest Memorandum.

Inside this narrative, the coalition answers a moral fear as well as a military one. Leaders in Paris, Warsaw and London remember the pattern: Georgia in 2008, Crimea in 2014, the full-scale invasion in 2022. Each time, the West condemned; each time, Russia tested how far it could go. A coalition that is willing not just “concerned” or “deeply worried” signals that this pattern has finally met a hard wall.

For Zelensky, this is the hopeful version of the story. Surrounded by leaders who speak not just about “support” but about shared security, he can step into a negotiation with Trump and Putin less as a client and more as the representative of a coalition that has tied its own fate to Ukraine’s. In this reading, the coalition is the missing chapter in our earlier narrative: the piece that turns an impossible choice into a hard but survivable bargain.

Narrative 2: A Fragile Bloc Caught Between Trump and Moscow

The second worldview is harder on the coalition. It sees the same list of countries, the same statements about guarantees and peacekeeping, and worries that the whole structure rests on political sand.

Critics here start with domestic politics. In nearly every coalition capital, parties are warning against “endless support” for Ukraine, voters are exhausted by inflation and high energy bills, and businesses are quietly lobbying for cheaper fuel wherever they can get it. When those pressures collide with a Trump administration that wants fast, visible “wins” and a Kremlin skilled at exploiting division, how durable can the coalition really be?

The doubts often come with names attached. In France, Marine Le Pen has long argued that sanctions on Russian oil and gas risk hurting “French households first,” warning in one debate that “we cannot commit hara-kiri with the hope of hurting Russia.” In Italy, Matteo Salvini has called for ending energy sanctions that leave citizens “on our knees,” arguing that punishing Moscow should not mean bankrupting Italian families and factories. In Slovakia, Prime Minister Robert Fico has promised that his country will not take part in new EU financial schemes for Ukraine, telling voters that sanctions and military aid have already cost them too much and that Slovakia

“will not support Ukraine either financially or militarily to enable it to continue the war.”

These voices do not control the coalition, but they set the weather. Every time energy prices spike, or a budget fight turns ugly, the coalition’s leaders know that a chunk of their own electorate is asking why they are pouring money into Ukraine instead of cutting bills at home. When those voters hear that some coalition countries still buy Russian liquefied gas or nuclear fuel, the question becomes sharper: if even Europe is not fully weaned off Russian energy, how long will the political will to fund a long war really last?

Critics also point to the way the coalition speaks about its mission. Phrases like “robust security guarantees” and “reassurance forces” sound strong, but they hide difficult questions: which states will actually send troops to stand between Ukrainian and Russian lines? Under what legal authority, a UN mandate, an EU mission, a NATO flag, or something looser? What happens if Russia tests a red line not with tanks, but with cyberattacks, sabotage or deniable proxies?

Security officials have been blunt that those threats are not theoretical. NATO’s own leadership has described cyber as a “global threat” and warned that Alliance members face a “constant threat of cyber attacks” on their infrastructure. European security studies now describe Russia’s hybrid campaign against pipelines, undersea cables and power grids as “war footing” in slow motion, a world where Europe’s energy system is already a priority target, and where cyber operations, arson and sabotage are increasingly used to probe how far the West will go to respond. In that environment, a loosely defined reassurance force can look less like a shield and more like an open invitation to test how serious Europe really is.

In this narrative, Europe’s new power centre risks becoming a middleman with limited leverage. Trump can present the coalition as proof that he has shifted the burden to Europe, “they’re paying, they’re sending the troops”, without changing the core of his 28-point plan. Russia can treat it as a hostile bloc that is effectively NATO in all but name, justifying its own escalations while insisting that the West is sabotaging peace.

Critics also worry about timing. If the coalition promises too much too soon, hinting at troops on the ground or sweeping guarantees before a real ceasefire exists, it could give Moscow an excuse to walk away from talks or to sell the war domestically as a fight against Western occupation rather than Ukrainian sovereignty. At the same time, if the coalition under-delivers once a deal is signed, Ukrainians will be left with a fragile peace and a sense of betrayal.

From this vantage point, the coalition may still be better than nothing, but it is not yet the solid shield Ukrainians are being encouraged to see. It is a network of democracies with elections, budget fights and populist backlashes. Leaders change; coalitions fall; protests over energy prices or public spending can reshuffle priorities in a single season. As one sceptical diplomat put it privately, “We have many willing, but not many who will stay when it gets hard.”

Families, Soldiers and a Continent Betting on Trust

Beneath both narratives lies a quieter layer of the people whose lives will be shaped by how this coalition behaves long after the headlines move on.

For a Ukrainian artillery officer outside Kharkiv, the coalition is not a communiqué; it is the difference between having ammunition in six months or explaining to his unit why their guns have gone silent. He has watched American support swing with U.S. elections. He marks time now by European announcements: a new air defence package here, a promise of joint training there. Each one is a small signal that he will not be left alone on the line.

For a Polish or Baltic parent reading about the coalition at breakfast, the story is both distant and uncomfortably close. Their children are growing up in a Europe where the phrase “coalition of the willing” no longer refers to far-off wars but to a potential mission on their own continent. They understand that if Ukraine falls or is carved up, the next red line may sit much nearer to their homes.

For Zelensky himself, the coalition is a lifeline and part burden. Every time he thanks “our European friends” in a speech, he is also binding the future of Ukraine and his fate to theirs. If they fracture, his negotiating position shrinks. If they stay together, he can keep insisting that any peace must be more than a pause for Russia to reload.

And for ordinary Russians watching from inside a tightly controlled media space, the coalition appears mainly as a threat: proof, according to the Kremlin narrative, that the West is surrounding them and plotting their humiliation. That story, repeated enough times, makes it harder for any Russian leader to accept a deal that looks like retreat, even if the alternative is a frozen, costly war.

In the end, the coalition of the willing is less about one summit or one joint statement and more about a long experiment in trust. Ukraine is betting that Europe will keep showing up even when the cameras turn away. Europe is betting that investing real power in Ukrainian security will prevent a wider catastrophe. And the United States, for now, is betting that a mix of Trump’s dealmaking and European guarantees can deliver peace without another full-scale deployment of American power.

The question that hangs over all of this is whether the 28-point deal on the table is a genuine attempt to stop the war or a piece of theatre designed to help Moscow and Washington say they “tried,” then blame Kyiv if it refuses. For Ukrainians and their European backers, the fear is simple: that Russia will use the plan to posture as the reasonable side, Trump will present it to Americans as a neat solution, and any refusal to accept a dangerous or one-sided deal will be framed as Zelensky choosing war over peace. Whether the coalition of the willing can hold the line against that narrative, insisting on a peace that is real, not just convenient, is now the most important test of all.

Key Takeaways

• Zelensky’s “coalition of the willing” is a European-led group of countries that have pledged stronger military aid, deeper sanctions and future security guarantees for Ukraine, going beyond ad-hoc support. :contentReference[oaicite:5]{index=5}
• The coalition aims to turn Trump’s 28-point peace plan from a narrow, risky deal into a framework backed by long-term European protection and potential peacekeeping forces on Ukrainian soil.
• Supporters see the coalition as Europe’s way to stop outsourcing its security to Washington and to prevent any peace agreement from rewarding Russian aggression.
• Critics warn that the coalition’s promises remain vague and politically fragile, vulnerable to war fatigue, energy concerns and domestic backlash inside member states. :contentReference[oaicite:6]{index=6}
• For soldiers, families and voters from Kharkiv to Warsaw, the coalition is not just a diplomatic phrase but a test of whether democracies can sustain costly commitments long enough to secure a durable peace.

Questions This Article Answers

1. Who is in the “coalition of the willing” backing Ukraine, and how is it different from earlier support groups?
2. How does this coalition change the power balance around Trump’s 28-point peace plan and Ukraine’s negotiating position?
3. What specific roles are European countries proposing for themselves, from security guarantees to potential peacekeeping forces?
4. Why do some critics see the coalition as politically fragile or too vague to deter Russia?
5. What does this new coalition mean in practice for Ukrainian soldiers, European families and the future of security on the continent?

For the earlier chapters in this story, see “Ukraine’s Impossible Choice: Trump’s 28-Point Peace Plan and the Price of U.S. Support” and “Europe vs. the Kremlin: Can Trump’s 28-Point Ukraine Peace Plan Really ‘Stop the Killing’ Before Winter?”.

Suggested external sources to cite in-article:

• https://www.euronews.com/my-europe/2025/03/26/what-we-know-about-thursdays-coalition-of-the-willing-summit-for-ukraine-in-paris
• https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/ukraines-allies-meet-with-new-aid-security-assurances-mind-2025-03-27/
• https://kyivindependent.com/europe-developing-coalition-of-the-willing-to-back-ceasefire-in-ukraine-starmer-says/
• https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2025/3/2/european-leaders-gather-in-london-to-strengthen-support-for-ukraine
• https://www.reuters.com/world/french-president-macron-says-trumps-ukraine-peace-plan-needs-improvement-2025-11-25/
• https://www.ndtv.com/world-news/ukraine-war-peace-plan-donald-trump-emmanuel-macron-trumps-ukraine-peace-plan-goes-in-right-direction-but-frances-macron-9695973