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Last week, Russian military forces seized a valuable lithium field in the Donetsk region of Ukraine, the latest success of Moscow’s grinding summer offensive.
The lithium deposit in question is considered rather small by industry analysts, but is said to be a desirable prize nonetheless due to the concentration and high-quality of its ore. In other words, it is just the kind of asset that the Trump administration seemed eager to exploit when it signed its much heralded minerals agreement with Ukraine earlier this year.
The response from Washington? Crickets. The loss attracted no notable reaction from President Donald Trump or his advisers. Ukraine and its backers, who had hoped that the deal would create an abiding and long-term U.S. interest in Ukraine and its security future, will certainly be disappointed.
Despite receiving almost no attention in the United States, however, the episode offers three important insights into the state of the war and the prospects for peace in the near-term.
First, the setback is a clear reminder that time is not on Ukraine’s side. Pressing on with the war is not likely to improve Kyiv’s battlefield or negotiating position. The Trump administration on Tuesday just ordered a halt on military assistance, the last of the aid packages initiated under the Biden administration will arrive. Ukraine’s army is already running short on air-defense missiles to protect its cities from punishing Russian drone and missile attacks, and the end of U.S. aid could trigger military shortages in other areas.
Add to this concerns about high desertion rates among exhausted Ukrainian soldiers and things aren’t likely to turn around soon for the beleaguered U.S. partner.
There are still voices pushing Ukraine to fight on, arguing that Russia is on the brink of collapse and that with just a little more military assistance from Europe and the United States, Ukraine has a chance at victory. But this is wishful thinking. Putin has staked too much on Ukraine to back down now and believes Russia has the ability to absorb additional pain and more fighting if necessary. Ukraine, on the other hand, continues to steadily lose territory, and with it, valuable resources and economic capacity that could support its reconstruction.
By extending the fighting, Kyiv is gambling away Ukraine’s post-war future. The sooner the war ends, the better the terms of the deal are likely to be for Ukraine.
Second, the non-existent U.S. response is emblematic of the very low ranking Ukraine and its war currently hold on Trump’s list of priorities. When Trump returned to the White House, the biggest fear of Ukraine’s supporters was that he would force Ukraine into an effective surrender, giving Russia the spoils. Despite significant tension between Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky and Trump, manifested in a disastrous Oval Office meeting in late February, this did not happen.
Now, however, Kyiv and its supporters have a new concern: Trump has lost interest in Ukraine almost entirely. Trump was already frustrated with flailing efforts to reach a peace agreement in the three-year old conflict before two weeks of crisis in the Middle East wiped Ukraine off the White House’s radar. Trump skipped his meeting with Zelensky by departing the G-7 conference in Canada early, and, although the two did meet on the sidelines of the NATO summit a week later, Ukraine’s war was noticeably left off the summit’s agenda, in no small part to avoid surfacing disagreements between the United States and NATO allies on the issue. There has been no talk of extending new U.S. military aid packages to Ukraine, and even Ukrainian offers to buy U.S. weapons have been met with limited enthusiasm.
At this point, despite periodic Truth Social posts, Trump seems content to let Ukraine and Russia keep fighting until they come to settlement terms on their own. This is not a bad result for Russia which has momentum on the battlefield or for the United States which has no real strategic interest in Ukraine. But it leaves Kyiv at a disadvantage and is, moreover, exactly the outcome that the minerals deal was supposed to prevent.
The deal’s failure to maintain Trump’s support and interest in Ukraine should not be a surprise. It is a weak agreement with uncertain terms, signed by a president more interested in making deals than sticking to them. But the U.S. non-response should underscore for Kyiv that it is on its own going forward. Empty deals and more pleading will not resurrect U.S. interest and support for Ukraine. Europe can fill some of the gap left by U.S. disengagement, but for the most part, Ukraine’s future security will now be in its own hands.
Finally, Ukraine’s many disadvantages, combined with growing U.S. disinterest, suggest that the timeline for peace now rests largely with Putin. Though Russia’s progress on the battlefield is slow and costly in terms of materiel and human lives, Moscow’s army continues to press forward, capitalizing on weak spots along Ukraine’s lines and steadily gaining valuable territory, including economic and natural resources.
Meanwhile, Russia’s repeated missile and drone strikes on Ukraine’s cities are more confirmation that Putin is not tiring of the war just yet and intends to press his advantage.
There is little that Europe or the United States can do to change this calculus, even if Trump were interested in trying to strongarm Putin into a ceasefire. Additional sanctions are unlikely to force Putin to back down, and limits on Western defense production will constrain what can be offered to Ukraine in terms of additional military aid. Ukraine, itself, has few cards to play. High-risk military gambits by Kyiv, such as Operation Spiderweb, may impose costs on Moscow, but will not be sufficient to soften Putin’s resolve.
But while Putin may be in the driver’s seat right now, he too will be ready to stop fighting at some point, perhaps even when the current offensive runs out of steam later this fall. And though it makes sense for Trump and his advisors to step back from their day-to-day engagement with Ukraine and its war for now, they would be smart to take some low-cost steps to ensure that if and when a window for talks opens, they are ready to take advantage of it.
First, the Trump administration should resume bilateral meetings between U.S. and Russian officials, similar to those held in Riyadh earlier this year. Strengthening this communication channel now will make it easier to hold productive and substantive discussions later on, even if the topics covered over the next few months are superficial only.
Second, Trump should encourage Russia and Ukraine to continue and even increase the frequency of their direct dialogue. Ultimately, any lasting deal will need to have support from the two combatants, so these face-to-face talks will be essential to any effort to reach a peace agreement.
Finally, Washington will need to get Europe on board with a push for peace. This has been hard in the past, with Europe’s leaders acting primarily as an impediment to efforts to end the war. The recent NATO summit, however, showed just how much leverage the current White House still has over a European continent terrified of abandonment. The Trump team should not be afraid to use its upper hand, to compel Europe ahead of time to get behind any peace deal Ukraine, Russia, and the United States agree to.
It attracted little notice, but Russia’s capture of a Ukrainian lithium reserve in the country’s eastern reaches and the Trump team’s muted reaction actually speaks volumes about the state of the Ukraine-Russia war. With Ukraine on the ropes and the United States focused elsewhere, Putin seems in command of the war’s tempo. The near term prospects for peace are slim, but bigger opportunities for peace may lie ahead, especially if Washington sets some of the groundwork now.
Many human rights organizations say it should shut down. The Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) have killed hundreds of Palestinians at or around its aid centers. And yet, the U.S. has committed no less than $30 million toward the controversial, Israel-backed Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF).
As famine-like conditions grip Gaza, the GHF says it has given over 50 million meals to Palestinians at its four aid centers in central and southern Gaza Strip since late May. These centers are operated by armed U.S. private contractors, and secured by IDF forces present at or near them.
The GHF passes itself off as an independent humanitarian group. In fact, it was conceived by Israeli officials at the beginning of the war, with buy-in from Israeli tech investors and venture capitalists, as well as staff from Israel’s state-aid coordinators, or COGAT (Coordination of Government Activities in the Territories). Israeli opposition lawmakers allege that Mossad, Israel’s intelligence agency, has funded the GHF. Meanwhile, former CIA officer Paul Reilly was allegedly in on the ground floor of the scheme and founded Safe Reach Solutions, one of the two U.S.-based private contracting firms managing the aid hubs. A former U.S. Special Forces soldier heads the other.
For their part, Israeli officials say the GHF is the only safe way to get direct aid to the Palestinians inside. The World Food Programme has found it nearly impossible to operate in Gaza due to the security situation, often halting its operations, while Israel banned the UN program UNRWA, which was the predominant source of aid for Palestinians there, in January.
Eager to depict itself as a force for good, the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation inundates reporters with near-daily communications boasting of the number of meals provided to Gazans, and frequently featuring photos of smiling Palestinians, especially children, receiving aid. Its X account and new, flashy website employ similar messaging and photos.
The GHF has even recruited Shahar Segal, the prominent restaurateur and business partner of celebrity Israeli chef Eyal Shan, as its spokesperson. Segal arguably isn’t the GHF’s only flack: State Department spokespersons Tammy Bruce and Tommy Pigott have repeatedly gushed over GHF aid operations at recent press briefings.
GHF’s other communications efforts are markedly less glamorous. Its Facebook page, for example, often posts announcements in Arabic about upcoming aid distributions. Often, the GHF posts that it’s distributing aid in a given location, only to announce minutes later it’s already handed out all the supplies.
The GHF routinely denounces Hamas in its communications. Like the Israeli government, it says Hamas has fabricated the narrative of Palestinians being harmed or killed by the IDF at their aid sites, even though the killings have been widely reported by numerous mainstream outlets, including Haaretz, Reuters and Al Jazeera.
“There is a growing pattern of violent events being misreported as occurring near our sites, when they involve UN convoys or areas far outside our operations,” the GHF said in a June 17 email. “We’re also concerned by the role of the Hamas-run Gaza Health Ministry, certain UN officials, and Al Jazeera in promoting these false narratives.”
Repeating a common Israeli claim that Hamas diverts humanitarian aid in Gaza to its own ends, Segal insisted that the GHF “is the only right and possible way to deliver food to Gazans without feeding Hamas' terror machine.” But Cindy McCain, the head of the U.N.’s World Food Program, said in late May that there was no evidence Hamas was stealing aid.
Despite credible media reports, GHF insists that IDF soldiers have not killed or injured hundreds of Palestinians seeking aid at their sites. As of June 29, at least 583 Palestinians have been reported killed at or near GHF-run aid sites since May 27, when they started operations.
“It is not surprising that the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation uses social media to portray itself as assisting Palestinians in Gaza,” Annelle Sheline, research fellow at the Quincy Institute’s Middle East program, told RS. “It has to try to overcome the overwhelming evidence that its aid distribution sites are in fact primarily responsible for killing Palestinians rather than saving them.”
Concerned that GHF’s unconventional operations jeopardize Palestinian lives, many humanitarian organizations condemn its work.
In an open letter released June 23, a group of 15 international human rights organizations, including the International Commission of Journalists, the Palestinian Center for Human Rights, and the New York-based Center for Constitutional Rights, slammed the GHF’s operations, including involving private mercenaries and the IDF.
The GHF’s “new model of privatized, militarized aid distribution constitutes a radical and dangerous shift away from established international humanitarian relief operations,” they wrote.
In another letter from July 1, over 170 humanitarian NGOs, including Doctors Without Borders, Amnesty International, and Save the Children, said the GHF should cease operations. "Today, Palestinians in Gaza face an impossible choice: starve or risk being shot while trying desperately to reach food to feed their families," they wrote.
Alexander Smith, a former USAID contractor who resigned after his work on Gaza was censored by the Biden administration, told RS that the GHF is not behaving like a genuine aid organization. For example, forcing Palestinians to travel to a select few aid centers violated established humanitarian norms. “You don't want sick and injured people having to move, and you don't want them moving across a war zone,” he said. “You get the aid to them.”
Observers contend GHF operations assist Israel’s political goals for the region. Environmental researcher Yaakov Garb found that GHF’s aid structures were designed and located in ways “predominantly responsive to Israeli military strategy and tactics rather than…a broad humanitarian relief intervention.” And the GHF only deploys aid sites in the center and south of Gaza, suggesting the operations aim to force Palestinians out of northern Gaza — where Israel has now banned aid altogether.
"The placement of those three aid distribution hubs in [Gaza’s] extreme south are obviously meant to draw people to the south, near the Egyptian border... to draw people away from the north,” Smith said. “Israeli officials, from Netanyahu to Smotrich, have been very frank about their intention to simply take and resettle that land.”
Sheline said that GHF’s operations and communications help Israel skirt accountability for the humanitarian crisis it has created in Gaza, where Israel has killed more than 56,000 Palestinians since October 7, 2023.
“The IDF only allowed the GHF to begin operating to dispel the impression that Israel is deliberately starving the population of Gaza to death by allowing in almost no food since March 2, and still preventing any medicine, fuel or water from entering the territory,” Sheline said. “The GHF is not intended to help Palestinians, it is intended to dispel negative media coverage.”
When RS asked the State Department about its decision to directly fund the GHF, it was referred to a June 26 press briefing in which Pigott announced the $30 million donation. When reporters at that briefing repeatedly asked about the IDF killing Palestinians at GHF aid centers, Pigott simply said Hamas was solely responsible for starting the war.
“I think everyone in the State Department…and probably within the Trump administration, understands that GHF is not an effective way to deliver aid,” Smith said of the State Department’s $30 million contribution toward GHF operations. “They're choosing to double down on GHF because it's more politically expedient.”
The GHF did not return a request for comment. The IDF says it is investigating the shootings at and around GHF aid hubs as possible war crimes, and plans to reorganize its presence around the aid hubs, adding fences, signs and checkpoints around them, and marked routes to them to minimize “friction with the population.”
In Mali, General Assimi Goïta, who took power in a 2020 coup, now plans to remain in power through at least the end of this decade, as do his counterparts in neighboring Burkina Faso and Niger. As long-ruling juntas consolidate power in national capitals, much of the Sahelian terrain remains out of government control.
Recent attacks on government security forces in Djibo (Burkina Faso), Timbuktu (Mali), and Eknewane (Niger) have all underscored the depth of the insecurity. The Sahelian governments face a powerful threat from jihadist forces in two organizations, Jama‘at Nusrat al-Islam wa-l-Muslimin (the Group for Supporting Islam and Muslims, JNIM, which is part of al-Qaida) and the Islamic State Sahel Province (ISSP). The Sahelian governments also face conventional rebel challengers and interact, sometimes in cooperation and sometimes in tension, with various vigilantes and community-based armed groups.
The roots of instability in the Sahel extend both to specific crises in the 2010s (especially a rebellion in northern Mali in 2012) and to broader, systemic issues having to do with land use, resource competition, poverty, official corruption, the spread of jihadist mobilization through a chain of socially combustible zones, and citizens’ loss of faith in institutions. Government responses largely fueled insurgencies, as security forces committed abuses and collective punishment, and as civilian leaders pursued inconsistent and often tone-deaf policies.
Foreign intervention also inflamed the situation. France, the European Union, and the United States pursued a narrowly security-focused policy matrix that failed to reverse the escalation in violence in the 2010s and that crumbled upon contact with the coups of the early 2020s. Russia, the new partner of choice for the central Sahelian regimes, supplied an even more brutal dose of violence, but one that produced no concrete gains for national governments other than the Malian authorities’ triumphant but ultimately isolated victory in Kidal, a northern rebel stronghold. The jihadists, who delight in having a foreign adversary, have replaced the French with the Russians in much of their propaganda and targeting.
As the juntas have struggled on the battlefield, they have hollowed out their countries’ politics, subverting decades of fragile but meaningful democratic experiences. Political parties have been banned, journalists arrested, critics conscripted, and associations dissolved. There are a few niches of resistance remaining, particularly labor unions, but those have largely challenged the juntas on a sector-by-sector basis over issues connected to pay and conditions; unlike in 1991 in Mali or 2014 in Burkina Faso, broader revolutions involving multi-sector coalitions have not coalesced. In fact, although it is difficult to measure given the lack of regular and reliable polling as well as the near absence now of investigative journalism, the juntas appear to enjoy substantial popularity. Military men have made invigorating promises about restoring security, championing national sovereignty, revitalizing economies, and bringing people dignity. Even as those promises remain unfulfilled, the message is clearly thrilling to a wide domestic audience.
Western governments are still adrift on Sahel policy. In Europe, expectations for how much influence governments can wield over the Sahel, bilaterally and collectively, have been tempered by the rebukes the Sahelian juntas have issued over the past five years. Ambitions to rebuild influence persist, and the most thoughtful suggestions involve pursuing “a pragmatic course that reconciles [Europe’s] interests and diplomatic priorities with political realities on the ground.” Yet there are few genuinely new ideas in the mix in Europe, as concerns about migration control and insecurity lead policymakers and analysts back to a familiar menu of security assistance and development partnerships.
In the United States, intermittent concern about the Sahel under the Biden administration has given way to relative indifference under the Trump administration. Both under Biden and Trump, meanwhile, there was greater concern about the potential for (and to some extent, reality of) spillover from the Sahel into coastal West Africa than there was concern about the Sahel itself. Tellingly, U.S. Africa Command hosted the April/May 2025 edition of its annual Flintlock training exercise in Cote d’Ivoire, and periodic reports suggest that AFRICOM is scouting the possibility of basing drones there (after the government of Niger expelled U.S. personnel in 2024). AFRICOM, however, could ultimately be cut amid the Trump administration’s ongoing restructurings.
To some extent, Western policy to the Sahel is inadvertently replicating some long-discarded ideas about Somalia policy. In a refreshing set of analyses around 2009-2010, Bronwyn Bruton advocated what she called “constructive disengagement” from Somalia — a pause in perennial American and Western efforts to shape the politics and security landscape of that long-troubled country. Most of Bruton’s suggestions were specific to Somalia and its Islamist Shabaab insurgency to that moment, but some of them offer intriguing glimpses of what an alternative approach to the Sahel could look like.
In one report, Bruton wrote, “The United States and its partners can encourage the pragmatic, nationalist, and opportunistic elements of the Shabaab to break with their radical partners by adopting a position of neutrality toward all local political groupings and by signaling a willingness to coexist with any Islamist authority that emerges, as long as it refrains from acts of regional aggression, rejects global jihadi ambitions, and tolerates the activities of Western humanitarian relief agencies in Somalia.”
This approach still sounds radical today, but it is effectively what has happened in Syria since late 2024. The U.S. should in no way cheer on a JNIM victory, but the U.S. should consider a range of options in case such a scenario transpires.
Bruton also recommended, meanwhile, that “new development initiatives…should be pursued in a decentralized fashion that involves collaboration with the informal and traditional authorities that are already in place on the ground – without attempting to formalize or empower them.”
Here she was referring largely to the regional governments and would-be governments that existed (and still exist) in a fractured Somalia, a very different landscape than the Sahel’s current political map. But the underlying principle has appeal for the Sahel: the U.S. and Europe would do better to pursue development for development’s sake in the Sahel, rather than trying to tie development to quixotic projects of reshaping society or steering national governments. Bruton’s (unheeded) mix of recommendations for Somalia is not a blueprint for the Sahel some 15 years later, but her ideas point to ways that the menu of options could be expanded beyond what sometimes appears to be Western governments’ search for a return to a modified status quo ante.
The Sahel appears poised to remain both politically frozen and deeply volatile through 2030, and if disruptions to that trajectory arrive, the easiest disruptions to imagine are ones for the worse, including further coups, the fall of major cities to jihadists, and/or mass famines. To the extent that Western governments seek to re-engage, it should be with a realization that the 2010s are not coming back, that the juntas have a do-or-die mentality, and that some fresh thinking is required.
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