Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky’s recent trip to Berlin was not just another stop in a long series of wartime diplomatic engagements.
The meeting, involving US President Donald Trump’s special envoy Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner, and hosted by German chancellor Friedrich Merz, focused on the latest version of a US-backed peace plan for Ukraine, one that has already undergone several revisions and sparked unease in Kyiv and across Europe.
As Washington pushes for momentum and Moscow signals its unwillingness to compromise, Europe once again finds itself positioned as both mediator and stakeholder, yet still without a clear answer to what peace, or its absence, would mean in practice.
The problem is not the absence of diplomacy, but the persistence of strategic ambiguity: a peace process advancing faster than the legal, security and political frameworks needed to support it.
It is precisely this ambiguity that Europe can no longer afford as Ukraine moves towards 2026 and its ‘closest opportunity to peace’, as Trump has described it.
The more pressing question is whether any agreement emerging in 2026 would bring meaningful security or merely formalise uncertainty.
For Kyiv, the priority is to avoid a repeat of the 1994 Budapest Memorandum, whose vague assurances failed to prevent Russia’s invasions in 2014 and 2022.
This concern is widely shared within Ukraine. A survey conducted by the Kyiv International Institute of Sociology in late 2025 found that 75% of Ukrainians consider Russia’s peace proposals completely unacceptable.
At the same time, 72% said they would support freezing the front line without formal recognition of occupation, provided sanctions remain in place and credible security guarantees are offered.
Ukrainian society appears ready for difficult compromises, but clearly rejects outcomes perceived as surrender.
Warnings from European military leaders underline the stakes. France’s Chief of Defence Staff, General Fabien Mandon, and Britain’s Chief of Defence Staff, Admiral Sir Richard Knighton, have both told their publics to be prepared for the possibility of future war, a sign that Europe’s security environment is unlikely to stabilise quickly, regardless of diplomatic progress.
Nowhere is this uncertainty more visible than among Ukraine’s displaced population. Currently 4.4 million Ukrainians live under temporary protection within the EU, granting access to housing, employment and financial support.
In June, the EU extended temporary protection once again, until March 2027. While the extension provides short-term reassurance, it also prolongs a state of legal and political ambiguity.
“There are two typical situations”, Prof. Vincent Chetail, Director of the Global Migration Centre, explains.
“Imagine if there is a sudden return of four million nationals, it's important that return is not only voluntary, but also well-prepared from the two sides. The other option is integration in the country of asylum. The difficulty here is that the temporary protection directive is weak in terms of integration, because it was not the purpose.”
As the war drags on and refugees, mostly women and children, become more integrated into host societies, Europe will have to offer legal pathways both for those who wish to return in the event of peace and for those who seek longer-term residence.
In September, the EU Council adopted a recommendation on transitioning out of temporary protection, calling for a common framework to support sustainable return and reintegration in Ukraine.
It also urges member states to provide national residence permits on grounds such as family ties, employment and education, and to allow exploratory visits to Ukraine so refugees can assess security conditions in their home regions.
Such measures could provide much-needed clarity, establishing a legal precedent for both staying and returning. Yet without binding commitments or a clear timeline, implementation could take months, or longer.
Displacement is not only a European issue. Inside Ukraine itself, more than 3.7 million people remain internally displaced.
According to IOM data, over half originate from regions that were partially or fully occupied. If any peace plan were to involve territorial concessions, it is unlikely many would return to their places of origin.
IDPs already face serious challenges. Many struggle to find work due to mismatches between professional skills and local labour markets, leading to low wages, higher poverty risks and greater reliance on humanitarian aid.
Housing and property rights remain unresolved, particularly for those whose homes have been destroyed or remain inaccessible.
“No matter who controls the city, it doesn’t change anything,” said a former resident of Bakhmut now living in Italy. “The city is completely gone. Nothing that was there exists anymore. There are no plans to rebuild it, no compensation, no support.”
As 2026 approaches, Europe faces a choice. Temporary protection has saved lives and demonstrated solidarity, but it was never designed to resolve long-term displacement.
Whether Ukraine moves toward peace or remains at war, ambiguity is undoubtedly becoming a harder stance to take. Without clearer commitments on security, integration and reconstruction, Europe risks managing displacement indefinitely, rather than helping Ukrainians build a future, here or there.
Ukraine in 2026 will reveal not only the limits of diplomacy, but also the extent of Europe’s willingness to move beyond emergency responses and confront the long-term consequences of war.
This article was produced as part of PULSE’s thematic network, a European initiative supporting transnational journalistic collaborations.
This article was produced as part of PULSE’s thematic network, a European initiative supporting transnational journalistic collaborations.