President Trump’s much-hyped Ukraine ceasefire lasted only one hour. But was anyone really that surprised? Its terms were vague, short-sighted and lacked components that any credible peace deal requires. In the 21st century, data informs most public policy decisions. So why aren’t peace negotiations evidence-led?
Is there a secret formula for a successful ceasefire? That depends on how we define success. Is the aim to stop the fighting quickly, to build the foundation for lasting peace, or to avert a humanitarian catastrophe? Each outcome requires different priorities, and each should be shaped by evidence.
So far, Trump’s negotiations — focused on land and power plants — have failed to address any of these goals. His demands were unlikely to secure a durable peace and unsurprisingly, the ceasefire collapsed in just 60 minutes, as Russia resumed strikes on homes, hospitals and power infrastructure.
Before attempting further talks, Trump needs to consult academia, experts in peacebuilding, international relations and, yes, even history.
Fortunately, we’re not just flying blind. Academics and researchers have spent decades analysing peace and negotiations and identifying the factors that lead to sustainable outcomes. One report categorizes ceasefire success into two distinct criteria: the immediate objective and the underlying purpose. Trump’s demands didn’t align with either, and it showed.
The Ceasefire Project reviewed all ceasefires involving at least one state actor between 1989 and 2020. Their findings? Successful ceasefires typically have three things in common: a political process that addresses the root causes of the violence, a robust monitoring mechanism, and the ceasefire must last a minimum of 100 days. Trump’s discussion with Russia’s president didn’t even address the first criteria, the underlying cause of the war (such as Ukraine’s proposed NATO membership), and lacked any verification plan.
There’s also no shortage of case studies specific to Russia. During the 2014 Donbas conflict, the Minsk Protocol created a ceasefire that satisfied many of Moscow’s initial demands. Yet fighting resumed within weeks. Conversely, in the 2008 Georgia conflict, Russia accepted several structured terms to end hostilities, including humanitarian aid access, mutual troop withdrawals and the temporary presence of Russian peacekeepers, which in this case did prevent violence from resuming.
These details matter — they reflect a negotiated process, not a political stunt.
Ceasefires can also come with difficult trade-offs. In some conflicts, humanitarian access has been part of the negotiated pauses in fighting. For instance, in Sudan, a 2024 ceasefire allowed food and medicine to reach civilians displaced by conflict. But history shows this can be a double-edged sword. In the Angolan Civil War, a humanitarian pause enabled a successful polio vaccination drive, yet the same pause gave warring factions time to rearm. These examples don’t define a ceasefire’s success, but they do reinforce why careful planning and data must underpin every negotiation.
We use data and evidence to shape decisions in nearly every policy domain. Academics produce policy-relevant research, advise government agencies and contribute to policy debates. Researchers and academics advise the U.S. National Academy of Sciences’s new pandemic committee, using lessons from the COVID-19 outbreak to guide future decision-making. Yet in war and peace, arguably the highest stakes arena, some leaders still rely on instinct over insight. That needs to change.
Ultimately, there isn’t a one-size-fits-all approach for ceasefires, especially given Vladimir Putin’s ideological and political motivations for invading Ukraine. Some even question whether peace is a real objective for him. But what we do know is that ceasefires that collapse in minutes cost lives. Every negotiation must be rooted in rigorous analysis.
The intelligence exists, so let’s learn from it instead of repeating history.
Gilad Tanay is the founder and chairperson of research and consultancy firm ERI Institute. Previously, he co-founded and served as U.S. director of Academics Stand Against Poverty, an international nongovernmental organization. He also served as a lecturer and fellow at the Global Justice Program at Yale University.
