Mark Galeotti

While Donald Trump may be threatening Moscow with major new sanctions, as it continues to hammer Ukraine with drones and missiles, the Russians seem unfazed. They assume this is just rhetorical for now – and they are probably right. This week has seen the US progressively cutting off its support for Ukraine, first suspending arms shipments, then pausing intelligence sharing and even access to the satellite imagery used to help target Russian bases and arms depots far from the frontline.

The United States's decision to suspend all intelligence sharing with Kyiv is a less visible but almost as serious and more immediate blow to Ukraine as the pause to arms deliveries. It also raises worrying questions about the future of intelligence sharing amongst Western allies. Ukraine is used to supplies of military materiel coming in fits and starts, and can and does stockpile ammunition, spare parts and the like to cover the dry seasons. It will probably be a couple of months before the pause really begins to have an appreciable impact on their operations. Besides, while some items such as Patriot missiles cannot be duplicated, domestic production and European and other systems can fill some of the wider shortfall, especially in drones and artillery ammunition.

Has Donald Trump’s heavy-handed negotiation style scored a win, or have the Ukrainians managed to wrench a victory of sorts from the jaws of defeat? Although the details are still unclear, Kyiv and Washington are confirming that a deal on mineral rights has been agreed, and that Volodymyr Zelensky will be on his way to the White House on Friday to sign on the dotted line. Trump has abandoned his ludicrously overblown demand for a $500 billion (£400 billion) return on what has actually been no more than $120 billion (£95 billion) given in total aid, through revenue from Ukrainian oil, gas and rare earth metals. Zelensky had understandably rejected this, saying ‘I am not signing something that ten generations of Ukrainians will have to repay.

We have no idea whether Vladimir Putin is serious about peace negotiations with Ukraine. He may simply be going through the motions while enjoying the spectacle of the West engaging in mutual recrimination and performative outrage, or he may genuinely feel there are grounds for some kind of agreement. More likely, given his track record as a tactician rather than a strategist, he is simply seeing what opportunities emerge. Nonetheless, his choices of format, venue and representatives may give us some sense of his intentions. His lead negotiator at abortive talks in Istanbul in 2022, for example, was Vladimir Medinsky.

The West may like to convince itself that it is, in the words of one American diplomat, 'strangling the Russian foreign ministry', but it ought to look south for a rather different perspective. On Tuesday, foreign minister Sergei Lavrov was in expansive mood as he announced the formation of a brand-new Department of Partnership with Africa. Recognising that for years Moscow had neglected Africa, Lavrov blamed in part the bankruptcy of the late USSR and Russia in the 1990s, when embassies had to be shut down and sold off. I remember one polyglot diplomat who, while serving in Nigeria, had taken to spending his mornings giving English, French and Russian classes to make ends meet because his salary was so often in arrears.

In theory, the Kursk salient is one of the most militarily insignificant fronts of Putin’s war on Ukraine. However, war is ultimately all about politics, and the presence of Ukrainian troops on Russian soil is sufficiently problematic for President Vladimir Putin that Kyiv has decided to deploy more troops in a bid to reverse the slow recapture of the occupied territory. Having originally seized some 400 square miles in its lightning attack in August 2024, by last month, steady Russian pressure had shrunk Ukraine's grasp on territory to some 180 square miles. Although Ukraine still held the town of Sudzha – about the only significant settlement in this area – the front line had crept perilously close.

The Alye Parusa (Scarlet Sails) apartment complex in Moscow’s north-western Shchukino suburb bills itself as an exclusive place to live, and a safe one, too, with cameras, gates and 24-hour security. Neither this, nor his detail of bodyguards, saved Armen Sargsyan when, on Monday morning, a bomb with more than a kilo of explosive detonated as he was walking out the lobby. His leg was blown off, and although he was airlifted to hospital, he died shortly after. So far, this appears to be the latest in a campaign of assassinations carried out by Ukrainian intelligence. Sargsyan was a rather different figure to the last target in Moscow, Lt. Gen. Kirillov.

There is a perverse congruence of interests between the British and Russian governments, as both sides seek to talk up London’s level of influence in Ukraine. This was particularly visible in the new agreement signed between the UK and Ukraine last week – and Moscow’s response to it. To the Kremlin, after all, Perfidious Albion remains its most devious antagonist. True to form, the Russian embassy in London tweeted out that Prime Minister Keir Starmer's surprise visit to Kyiv represented 'a desperate attempt by British handlers to keep the agonising Kiev [sic] regime afloat' with 'new highly provocative UK plans, including the establishment of military bases within Ukrainian territory'.

A social media post on 30 December: photographs of admittedly-splendid new year decorations in Moscow, archly captioned ‘back to 2021.’ The poster is alluding to the fact that obscene and extravagant references to Putin’s war in Ukraine – notably the letter Z, which has come to symbolise it – were notably absent from city decorations this new year. Moscow’s mayor, Sergei Sobyanin, has never seemed especially enthused about the war. He has done what the Kremlin required – diverted resources to help raise ‘volunteer regiments’; wallpapered the city with recruitment adverts; renamed Europe Square Eurasia Square – but he has avoiding too close an identification with the war, unlike so many of his less-secure counterparts across the country.

The Russian Orthodox Church or state calendar doesn't recognise 25 December as a special day: their Christmas is 7 January by their old calendar and, in any case, it is New Year's Eve that is the real blow out. As households prepare the usual staples of Salad Olivier, Herring under a Fur Coat (smothered in mayonnaise), tangerines and champagne, it will be impossible for them to ignore a basic fact: everything is getting more expensive. Indeed, while the headline inflation rate is just under 10 per cent, the price of many basic foods have increased dramatically more. One Russian newspaper estimated that the price of a typical New Year's Eve dinner has riven by almost 30 per cent, year on year.

Every year, Vladimir Putin gives a marathon town hall event that lasts for hours. Every year, I feel compelled to watch. Every year, I wonder if it will be the last time I do, as these have become increasingly formulaic, but there is always something in them that rewards watching. (Or so I tell myself.) It was briefly tempting to write this ahead of time, because by now the format and content has become thoroughly predictable Originally, there were two such events a year: a mammoth end-of-year press conference and then ‘Direct Line,’ a kind of online town hall at which Putin addresses a selection of questions (more than two million this year) posed by ordinary Russians.

Another one down. This morning, Lt. Gen. Igor Kirillov, head of RKhBZ, Russia’s Radiological, Chemical and Biological Defence Troops, was heading out of his block of flats in Moscow’s Ryazansky Avenue, accompanied by his aide, when a bomb placed inside an electric scooter exploded. Both men were killed in the latest Ukrainian assassination operation targeting Russian officers accused of war crimes. The timing was hardly coincidental. The 54-year-old Kirillov has been under British sanctions since 2017, both because of RKhBZ’s activities (including supporting the Syrian use of chemical weapons) and also his role as a propagandist, spreading such falsehoods as the claim that Ukraine hosted secret western biological warfare laboratories.