In the Shadow of the Minsk Agreements: Lessons for a Potential Ukraine-Russia Armistice

As Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine approaches the three-year mark, neither party has been able to inflict a decisive military blow on its opponent to end the war on its terms. There are increasing discussions in both Kyiv and partner-country capitals about a potential armistice or ceasefire agreement.¹ Although such ideas have been floating in the United States and Europe for some time, U.S. President Donald Trump’s stated desire to negotiate an end to the war²—combined with Ukraine’s apparent readiness to consider potential talks with Russia—makes an armistice or ceasefire a realistic scenario in 2025.

The path to an armistice is fraught with significant challenges. If Ukrainian and Western policymakers consider pursuing one, they should take care not to repeat the mistakes of previous ceasefire agreements between Russia and Ukraine that failed to hold. The so-called Minsk Agreements, a series of ceasefire agreements with a controversial peace settlement road map that was signed in September 2014 and February 2015,³ de-escalated the war in the Donbas but proved insufficient to fully end hostilities and prevent Russia from invading Ukraine in 2022. This article draws lessons from the failed Minsk Agreements about how to minimize the security and policy risks that may accompany an armistice.

Fruits of Russia’s Coercive Diplomacy

After Russia unlawfully occupied Crimea in February and March 2014, Russia-backed armed groups took control of parts of the Donetsk and Luhansk regions of Ukraine. Despite Ukraine’s initial successes in liberating some territory in the summer of 2014, the Russian army’s intervention and significant Russian support to the armed groups tipped the scale against Ukraine.

A series of Ukrainian military defeats, the poor state of the Ukrainian army, and the West’s unwillingness to provide lethal weapons to Ukraine and urgent desire to stop the fighting resulted in a decision by the Ukrainian leadership to make painful concessions in ceasefire talks brokered by France and Germany. Kyiv’s goal was to avoid the collapse of its defenses and further losses of territory and people. At the same time, Russia saw utility in a ceasefire at that moment: it wanted to capitalize on its coercive diplomacy while avoiding further sanctions from the West and dissuading the United States from providing lethal support to Ukraine, which was appearing ever more likely as Russia continued on the offensive.⁴

As a result, then president of Ukraine Petro Poroshenko agreed to the first ceasefire agreement⁵—the 2014 Minsk Protocol and subsequent memorandum outlining a more detailed ceasefire management plan—following the encirclement and near annihilation of Ukrainian forces in the city of Ilovaisk. But the attempted ceasefire did not hold. Over the next few months, Russia and its proxies regrouped. In January 2015, they launched an offensive to seize the Donetsk Airport and an important railroad hub in Debaltseve connecting Luhansk and Donetsk. As the offensive escalated, Moscow and its proxies called for the revision of the Minsk Protocol. With Ukrainian forces under growing pressure in Debaltseve, Poroshenko agreed to the second ceasefire agreement—the 2015 package of measures for the implementation of the Minsk Agreements—with much harsher implementation conditions.⁶

On their surface, the Minsk Agreements seemed like a reasonable way to de-escalate the war: they envisioned a ceasefire monitored by the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), the mutual pull-back of heavy weapons from the line of contact, and the withdrawal of foreign and mercenary forces from Ukraine. But they contained no robust mechanisms for enhancing compliance, so a true ceasefire never took hold. Moreover, the political elements of the deal ultimately proved impossible to implement because of the sides’ fundamentally divergent interests and interpretations of the ambiguous texts.

The Real Reason Russia Wanted Minsk

In the run-up to the Minsk Agreements, Russia and Ukraine had strikingly incompatible visions of Ukraine’s future. Ukraine aspired to become a successful liberal democracy integrated into Western institutions, including the EU and potentially NATO. Russia considered Ukraine within its post-Soviet sphere of influence (what Russia calls its “near abroad”) and wanted to have a say in its policy choices. Ukraine’s integration into Western institutions would have significantly weakened Russia’s capacity to influence the country’s fate, including via coercion.

Russia sought to use the Minsk Agreements as a means to constrain and ultimately control Ukraine’s sovereign choices, especially its Euro-Atlantic integration. The agreements envisioned a special constitutional status for the occupied areas that would have given them certain features of self-government within Ukraine—such as the ability to appoint judges and staff a local police force. The precise features of self-government were to be discussed and agreed with the areas’ representatives, by which Russia meant its proxies. This gave Russia an opportunity, via its proxies’ requests, to promote far more sweeping limitations over Ukraine’s sovereignty. At different times, the proxies reportedly demanded that Ukraine enshrine military neutrality in its constitution and seek the proxies’ approval of certain legislation, in effect granting them a veto over Kyiv’s policy decisions even though none of these conditions appeared in the Minsk Agreements.

The sequencing of the Minsk framework also put Ukraine at a severe disadvantage. Ukraine was to regain full control over its border only after elections were held in the occupied territories and the legislative and constitutional provisions on special status were implemented. As a result, Russia was free to continue supplying weapons to its proxies until Kyiv implemented all of Moscow’s conditions. Moreover, although the Minsk Agreements called for local elections to be conducted freely and in accordance with OSCE standards and Ukrainian law, if Ukraine were not allowed to seal the border in advance, any election would have been conducted under coercive conditions imposed by Russia and its proxies. Ukraine’s many diplomatic efforts to clarify this sequencing in a way that would facilitate a legitimate election, including its proposals on the deployment of UN peacekeepers, were unsuccessful because of Russian intransigence.

For Russia, control over Ukrainian territories held by Russian-backed armed groups was always secondary to its desire to dictate Kyiv’s decisions. Until 2022, Russia recognized the occupied areas as part of Ukraine despite the Russia-backed armed groups’ calls for their incorporation into Russia. As one former Russian official reportedly put it: “to get Donbas but lose Ukraine would represent a defeat for the Kremlin.” The Kremlin’s hierarchy of priorities was also on display during the Istanbul talks between Ukraine and Russia in spring 2022. In those, Russia reportedly contemplated vacating at least some of the occupied territories in exchange for significant limitations over Ukraine’s domestic, security, and foreign policy.⁷ Bearing in mind Russia’s strategic objectives, simplistic “land for peace” proposals are unlikely to lead to a permanent cessation of hostilities as they are directed at Moscow’s secondary, not primary, interests.

Security Guarantees for Ukraine Are Key

Considering that Russia launched its full-scale invasion in blatant disregard of the Minsk Agreements, there is a strong argument that an armistice would just give Russia time to rearm and plan another attack. Therefore, in any renewed negotiations Kyiv and its partners should focus on two issues: security commitments and a ceasefire management framework.

Security Commitments

After the experience of Minsk and the subsequent full-fledged war, Ukraine cannot afford to rely solely on Russia’s “parchment promise.” That is why top Ukrainian officials continue to argue that Kyiv will require credible security guarantees from its partners in order to deter Russia and defend itself if the armistice crumbles.

A security guarantee (“collective defense obligation,” in legal parlance) constitutes an obligation by third states to come to Ukraine’s defense in case of an armed attack, including with their armed forces. It may take the following forms.

The first option for a security guarantee is Ukraine’s membership in NATO, with the application of Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty limited to territories under Ukrainian control, essentially defined by a de facto line of contact following a ceasefire, without recognizing Russian sovereignty over the occupied territories (in a similar fashion to West Germany’s NATO accession in 1955). Still, some NATO members seem to be wary even of this option, at least until a definite end of the Russo-Ukrainian War, to avoid increasing the risk of a NATO-Russia conflict. Moreover, Russia would need to somehow acquiesce to this arrangement—a tall order given Russia’s long-standing opposition to Ukraine’s NATO membership. That acquiescence would need to be compelled (if Ukraine and its partners can stabilize the front and threaten Russia with serious further losses), negotiated, or some combination of the two.⁸ Otherwise, Russia could simply maintain a simmering war as it did from 2015 to 2022 to make it impossible for the allies to reach consensus on Article 5.

A security guarantee could also take the form of multilateral or bilateral collective defense obligations from Ukraine’s nuclear partners (the United States, the United Kingdom, and/or France) outside NATO. U.S. mutual defense treaties with Japan, South Korea, and the Philippines are bilateral examples of this. Some analysts have also floated more informal (non–legally binding) security assurances related to ceasefire enforcement, such as those the United States provided to Israel and Egypt following the 1973 Arab-Israeli War. Such flexible commitments are better than nothing, but without credible promises of robust security aid, they have questionable value as a deterrent.⁹ For example, former U.S. president Richard Nixon’s private “absolute assurances” of “swift and severe retaliatory action” “with full force” to South Vietnam in the context of the 1973 Paris talks did not save South Vietnam from eventual collapse.

A version of a multilateral security guarantee was considered in the spring of 2022 during the Istanbul talks. According to that proposal, Ukraine would have become a neutral state in exchange for security guarantees from the five permanent members of the UN Security Council (UNSC) and potential other guarantors. However, Russia reportedly demanded veto power over any armed response and wanted to control Ukraine’s military cooperation with foreign partners. It also sought to diminish Ukraine’s self-defense capacity with extremely low caps on the number of Ukrainian troops, weapons, and fighting vehicles. Such unilateral disarmament measures without genuine security guarantees would have been suicidal for Ukraine. Moreover, Ukraine’s partners, including the United States, were reportedly not ready to provide treaty-level security guarantees. It is unclear whether these problems could have been overcome with further negotiations, but when the Istanbul talks broke off, the sides were far from a deal.

With the question of security guarantees unresolved, a second option of ensuring Ukraine’s long-term “credible defense and deterrence capabilities” without the direct involvement of the partners’ armed forces has emerged. Ukraine has signed over two dozen bilateral security agreements with various partners, including all G-7 members and most NATO members. These partners have committed to help Ukraine build its own future force and defense industry capable of deterring Russia and repelling its attacks if need be. These agreements also contain a collective consultation and response mechanism, according to which the partners would provide Ukraine with necessary support against potential future attacks in the same fashion they have done during the current war.

These agreements are useful, but in order to have potential as a credible deterrent and basis for Ukrainian capabilities, they should be further elaborated into a legally binding form with clear goals, common standards, defined estimates of support, and approval by the partners’ legislatures. For example, legislation akin to the Stand with Ukraine Act introduced in the U.S. Congress would be a move in the right direction; it would provide a legislatively codified framework for predictable and sustained security assistance. Moreover, the collective response mechanism, especially in the U.S.-Ukraine security agreement, should be significantly beefed up: it should contain detailed legal obligations to take concrete response measures, including military and economic assistance aimed at repelling future armed attacks against Ukraine.¹⁰

Both models—security guarantees with the involvement of partners’ militaries and self-defense models based on bolstering Ukraine’s own capabilities—have their advantages and disadvantages. While security guarantees would allow Ukraine to maintain a smaller and more sustainable force, Ukraine’s security would hinge on whether Russia dared to test the guarantors’ promises and, if so, whether the guarantors would use their armed forces when push came to shove. At the same time, while the self-defense model would require Ukraine to maintain a substantial force at a high cost—relying for some time on financing from partners—Ukraine would be able to count on itself much like it did in February 2022. A robust indigenous security sector would also serve as a long-term strategic asset for Ukraine. Importantly, recent polls show that there is strong support among Ukrainians for self-sufficiency. That said, security guarantees and commitments can be pursued in parallel and are not mutually exclusive. Indeed, some combination of both may produce an optimal outcome.

As an extreme last-resort measure, Ukraine has a clear-cut legal right to withdraw from the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons and obtain nuclear weapons, which it gave up in exchange for security commitments from Russia, the United States, and the United Kingdom in the 1994 Budapest Memorandum. But that may strain Kyiv’s relations with its Western partners and would carry high risks of a Russian military reaction.

Russia argues that the Minsk Agreements gave Ukraine time to strengthen its military training and capabilities, enabling Ukraine to put up fierce resistance to Russian attacks in 2022. Thus, Russia may claim that Ukraine would use an armistice to rearm in preparation to liberate its territories by force in the future. Ukraine’s NATO membership based on the West German model—or a similar security guarantee from Western partners that is limited to Ukraine-controlled territories—may work as a credible check on Kyiv in this regard, given the West’s strong desire to avoid being drawn into a war with Russia. Indeed, former U.S. secretary of state Henry Kissinger made a similar argument in 2023. However, this would effectively foreclose Russia’s long-standing goal of controlling Kyiv’s policy choices and force Russia to acquiesce to Ukraine’s status as an independent Western democracy. Therefore, Moscow will seek to water down any security commitments that Ukraine receives from its partners in case of an armistice.

Ceasefire Management Framework

An effective ceasefire management framework may further ease security concerns. Research shows that certain mechanisms, such as demilitarized zones (DMZs), peacekeepers, and joint ceasefire commissions, can reduce incentives to violate a ceasefire, signal the parties’ intentions of future compliance, and prevent or manage accidents and provocations. The Minsk Agreements contained a weak ceasefire monitoring framework and no effective means to facilitate the parties’ compliance, such as by punishing them for violations.

In any potential armistice scenario, a DMZ akin to the one created by the Korean War Armistice should be considered to separate Ukrainian and Russian forces. A multinational peacekeeping or peace enforcement force, whether organized under the UN or some other auspices, should be deployed to supervise the ceasefire and withdrawal of forces and to patrol the DMZ.¹¹ During the Minsk implementation process, both Ukraine and Russia floated proposals for a peacekeeping force that could have supervised and facilitated the pullback of weapons, as well as the conduct of elections in the occupied territories, but the proposed force never materialized because of disagreements about the mission’s scope and Russia’s desire not to lose its coercive leverage over Ukraine. In the current environment, agreeing on a peacekeeping mission would be a mammoth task considering the resources required to patrol such a long front line. But it must be seriously considered, given the costs of a renewed war.

There are two ways to proceed with a DMZ and peacekeepers. The first would involve fully agreeing with Russia on the DMZ conditions and the composition, mandate, and rules of engagement for a peacekeeping force. That would create a more permissive environment for a mission to operate, but it would also allow Russia to water down the enforcement mechanisms. In this case, a DMZ should be located somewhere in territories currently occupied by Russia rather than solely on Ukrainian-held territory.¹² Another option would be for Ukraine and its partners to design a peace enforcement force on the Ukrainian side of the contact line without Russian input. Admittedly, this option is much riskier and may complicate ceasefire talks, but it would also serve as a more credible deterrent against future Russian attacks, especially if the peace enforcement troops enjoyed security guarantees from the United States.  

A joint armistice commission involving representatives of warring and third parties should also be considered to coordinate ceasefire measures and monitor for violations. The aftermath of the Minsk Agreements showed that the Joint Center on Control and Coordination, consisting of Ukrainian and Russian military officials, reportedly helped stop 70 percent of attacks as of October 2016. However, Russia abandoned the instrument when it no longer served Russian interests, demonstrating that a commission is not a substitute for deterrence and enforcement mechanisms. It can help resolve incidents and overcome provocations by keeping the line of communication open, but only if both sides want it to work. Considering that direct contact between Ukrainian and Russian military officials is unlikely, a model similar to the Black Sea Grain Initiative’s Joint Coordination Centre, which served to coordinate the passage of grain shipments via the Black Sea without direct contact between the Ukrainian and Russian militaries, should be considered.

The Need for Democratic Legitimacy

One of the biggest challenges to implementing the Minsk Agreements was that they required Ukraine’s parliament to approve legislative and constitutional amendments granting “special status” to the occupied areas. The Ukrainian leadership made these political promises under Russian coercion and at the insistence of Western partners without consulting the parliament and with no public discussion. As a result, many Ukrainians viewed the agreements as illegitimate. When the parliament attempted to pass some of the measures, there were protests, some of which turned violent.   

Although recent polls show an increasing number of Ukrainians supporting negotiations, the vast majority still reject Russia’s main demands. Bypassing the Ukrainian people and attempting to impose a settlement on them may therefore result in insurmountable obstacles at the implementation stage. Considering the brutality of Russia’s full-scale invasion and the tremendous sacrifices Ukrainians have made to defend their country, the risks of violence or large-scale instability are even more acute this time around, especially considering that Russia’s demands are more invasive than they were in 2015.

There are also significant constraints under Ukrainian law that would make it impossible to implement many of Russia’s core demands during wartime. First, any constitutional changes are virtually out of the question at the moment. Amending the Ukrainian Constitution is prohibited while martial law is in force; even once it is lifted, doing so would require a two-thirds supermajority in the parliament and other stringent procedures. Second, any hypothetical amendments on territorial concessions or Russian as a second official language would have to be approved by a nationwide referendum that is legally permitted only after the end of hostilities.¹³  It is exceedingly unlikely that Ukrainians would vote in favor even under the threat of Russian attacks, let alone after hostilities end. Third, a legally binding agreement that includes provisions requiring legislative amendments or dealing with such political issues as Ukraine’s neutrality would have to be ratified by the parliament.

The negotiators of the Minsk Agreements avoided these constraints by making the deal itself legally nonbinding. Still, the Poroshenko administration pushed a package of legislative and constitutional amendments through the Ukrainian parliament in order to fulfill Kyiv’s political commitments to set the conditions for local elections in the occupied territories and the provision of special political status to those areas. But the constitutional amendments provided for in Minsk were never adopted, in part because the first of a series of required votes prompted violent protests outside of the Ukrainian parliament. Also, contrary to the advice of German and French leaders, Poroshenko did not promptly explain the deal to the Ukrainian government and parliament, allowing domestic players to interpret the Minsk process to their liking.

Russia almost certainly judges that relaxing its military pressure would make Ukrainians even less inclined to implement harsh concessions than they already are. Therefore, if a ceasefire is conditioned on constitutional amendments and a referendum, and the parliament and Ukrainians vote against the Kremlin’s wishes—which is very likely—Russia may resume its attacks.

To avoid that outcome, a potential armistice should be limited to provisions on the cessation of hostilities and its management and should avoid political questions on which Ukraine and Russia cannot agree now. The ideal outcome would be for the parties to renounce military means to resolve their disputes and instead agree to resolve them diplomatically, without precommitments. That would mean agreeing on a pure armistice that fully halts hostilities rather than a peace treaty that would provide for a final settlement.¹⁴ That scenario would resemble the Korean War Armistice, which enumerated the parameters of a cessation of hostilities in detail but left the question of a broader peace settlement to future talks.

If Ukrainian and Western policymakers pursue this path, they should consider the following steps to gain the broad support of Ukrainians. First, both Ukrainian and Western leaders should clearly articulate to the Ukrainian public what is realistically possible under the present circumstances and why they think an armistice is the best option. As others have suggested, the Ukrainian leadership could reasonably explain this step as required by the limited nature of Western goals and support for further Ukrainian offensive operations.

Second, although a pure ceasefire and armistice could likely be reached by Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky on his own authority, it may be worth considering getting broader democratic buy-in for any arrangement, especially if certain political commitments prove to be unavoidable in a final deal. Some politicians have suggested that any agreement with Russia be put to a national referendum, which the Zelensky administration was reportedly planning for the potential Istanbul agreements that did not materialize. However, this option would lead to the aforementioned complications associated with referendums in times of war. Instead, for the purposes of an armistice, it would be more advisable to get the broadest possible support in the Ukrainian parliament.¹⁵ This would no doubt complicate negotiations, as many lawmakers will be skeptical of any deal with Moscow. However, it could also strengthen Ukraine’s negotiating hand by allowing it to credibly rule out any concessions that would be totally unacceptable to the parliament. It would also ease implementation by managing potential spoilers and avoiding executive promises on legislative amendments that the parliament would not support at the implementation stage. 

A Quicker (and More Ambiguous) Deal Is Not Necessarily a Better One

The Minsk Agreements contained ambiguities that helped the parties paper over their incompatible positions and facilitated a quick settlement; the February 2015 text was reportedly hammered out in a single seventeen-hour negotiating session in Minsk. But the vagueness of the document resulted in divergent understandings of what commitments Russia had made and what the exact special status for the occupied regions would be. There was also a lack of clarity on the steps toward a ceasefire and the sequencing of these steps in relation to Ukraine’s political commitments. Indeed, Ukraine argued that the political processes of elections, constitutional changes, and special status could not begin without a ceasefire and security. Russia argued that the sequencing was not necessarily linear and that Ukraine should begin those processes even before a true ceasefire took hold. As a result, each side blamed the other for the lack of implementation.

But a quick settlement is not necessarily a stable or enduring one, as Minsk demonstrated. Although time is of the essence, a reasonable level of clarity should remain a priority, and ironing out most issues may require time. Moreover, Ukraine must have leverage at the negotiating table in order not to be forced to make unacceptable concessions that would make it impossible to implement the arrangement. To gain this leverage, Ukraine must be able to stabilize and fortify the front line via a combination of military and diplomatic means, or it will face a Minsk-like power asymmetry during negotiations. Ukraine and its Western partners must also credibly signal to Russia that if does not accept a reasonable armistice proposal, they are prepared to impose increasing costs on Russia. To be clear, all of this can be done while talking; the detailed Korean War Armistice was negotiated for almost two years while the sides continued to fight.

In addition to substantive ambiguities, the Minsk Agreements were legally nonbinding.¹⁶ A legally binding agreement of this sort would have required parliamentary ratification under Ukrainian law and would have risked being deemed invalid under international law as a result of Russia’s unlawful use of force. Still, reportedly upon the suggestion of French and German leaders, Russia obtained a UNSC resolution endorsing the 2015 ceasefire to “create as much commitment as possible.”¹⁷ As Russia understands that a treaty imposed on Ukraine via unlawful use of force will be invalid, it will likely want to legalize such an agreement (if the text is to its satisfaction), including by obtaining a binding UNSC resolution, as was reportedly the case during the Istanbul talks. Ukraine and its partners would need to decide whether a legally binding instrument is an optimal solution for an armistice depending on the conditions and the aforementioned Ukrainian domestic limitations.¹⁸ The alternative would be either a nonbinding agreement or a tacit ceasefire without a written agreement, as some analysts have contemplated. Although the tacit option theoretically would allow Ukraine to avoid making explicit concessions to Russia, it would also produce a more fragile ceasefire.

Moreover, direct U.S. involvement in any future talks will be critical. The United States was absent from the so-called Normandy Format—Ukraine, Russia, France, and Germany—that charged itself with overseeing the implementation of the Minsk Agreements, although Washington coordinated its actions on a bilateral basis with the four participants. The lack of direct U.S. involvement in the Normandy meetings arguably worsened Ukraine’s negotiating position, eroded the credibility of the format in both Moscow’s and Kyiv’s eyes, and contributed to the agreements’ fragility. Active U.S. participation in any future talks—alongside the EU or key member states—will be crucial considering America’s critical role in Ukraine’s future security arrangements and broader European security issues, including NATO-Russia relations.                                                                                         

American historian Stephen Kotkin opined that “the sine qua non of Ukraine winning the peace is an armistice and an end to the fighting as soon as possible, an obtainable security guarantee, and European Union accession. In other words, a Ukraine, safe and secure, which has joined the West.” Even this limited goal will be challenging to realize and will entail significant security and policy risks for Ukraine. If Ukrainian and Western policymakers consider this to be the least bad option, they should do their best not to repeat the Minsk Agreements’ fate.