
Can Putin extract an economic victory from Trump?
Putin's delegation tells the story. Finance Minister Anton Siluanov and Kirill Dmitriev, Putin's special envoy for international investment, signal that sanctions and economic cooperation will be discussed. Putin has long insisted that what he deems illegitimate Western sanctions harm their architects more than Moscow, and he remains open to renewed trade – provided his geopolitical ambitions receive due recognition.
For Trump, cooperation follows peace, which Russia supposedly needs to salvage its economy. Here, Putin and Trump diverge. Trump declares Russia's economy troubled; Putin claims stability and 'balanced growth'. Both misjudge the situation. The Russian economy, to borrow from Chernobyl, is 'not great, not terrible'. Contrary to Western hopes, it isn't collapsing. Contrary to the Kremlin's statements, it is not a paragon of stability either.
After three years of fiscal-fuelled growth, Russia's economy is slowing. The initial war-stimulated boom brought with it inflation, budget deficits, labour shortages, and technological underinvestment. In the second quarter of 2025, Russia barely escaped recession. Year-on-year growth limps on above 1 per cent, with analysts predicting near-zero figures towards the end of 2025. After 4 per cent growth in 2024, 2025 forecasts for the whole year hover around 1 per cent.
Days before the summit, Putin's economic ministers painted a grim picture, according to people familiar with the details of the meeting. Amid deteriorating forecasts and falling oil revenues, they expect to muddle through – unless conditions worsen – but only through spending restraint and squeezing more from citizens and businesses. This marks a shift from having a 'war economy on steroids' to fiscal containment without de-escalation: permanent militarisation under constraint. As civilian production slows, the military's share rises. Russia can no longer afford guns and butter, so butter gets cut.
Short-term, this seems manageable. Russian incomes have grown for over two years, and consumption has increased despite double-digit inflation. A cooling-off hardly spells disaster. But a managed soft landing risks becoming a prolonged decline.
Several factors explain the collapse in growth. The Bank of Russia's prohibitively high base rate, maintained to combat inflation, which was only recently reduced to single digits, tops the list. The Central Bank faces constant pressure from industrialists and bankers to cut rates but resisted until lending constraints and falling consumption finally forced prices down.
Inflation stems from rising government spending and labour market constraints. The military industry and the fighting army drain workers from the open market. Up to 700,000 young professionals have fled since 2022, while authorities have limited migrant employment to appease nationalist sentiment. This drove up salaries and fuelled consumption and lending in 2023 and 2024.
Now, the consumer party is ending – or at least has been put on hold. As the economy slows in 2025, salaries are stagnating, dampening consumption. After two years of retail exuberance, Russians are growing frugal. While overall retail sales remain stable, consumers are spending increasing shares on food – the one essential they cannot cut.
Slowing consumption and high borrowing costs reduce manufacturing growth. Companies are struggling to purchase new equipment and upgrade machinery due to sanctions and borrowing costs. Growth is now concentrating in the military sectors. To boost productivity and cut costs, the Kremlin would welcome technological sanctions and machinery bans being lifted.
Russia has become a two-tier economy, with civilian and military sectors diverging. Just as during the Soviet era, the Kremlin sees military production as the primary economic driver. Combined with restocking needs, this ensures continued high defence spending at the expense of human capital.
Unrestrained fiscal spending, lower oil prices, and economic slowdown have widened the budget deficit. By the end of June, it reached 3.7 trillion roubles (£34 billion) or 1.7 per cent of GDP – roughly the amount forecast for the whole year. A month later, it hit 2.2 per cent. Without changes, it could reach 3 per cent or more. While unremarkable for Western countries with open capital markets, Russia can't finance its fiscal deficit with borrowing abroad.
Before the war, foreigners held a quarter of Russian sovereign debt. Now, only domestic borrowing remains. Additional state borrowing increases state debt servicing costs and business borrowing costs as firms compete with the government for funds. Easing the ban on international investors buying Russian debt would help the Kremlin.
In global trade, Russia has adapted to financial sanctions by using more roubles, yuan, and local currencies for export settlements. But easing banking sanctions to allow dollar settlements would reduce costs, risks, and volatility.
Trump cannot immediately lift all the sanctions against Russia, even if he is willing to. He would need congressional persuasion for some; convincing Europeans would prove harder. But even promising not to tighten US restrictions – let alone easing them – would give the Kremlin a political victory and an economic lifeline.
This need for economic oxygen isn't yet as acute as it was for the Soviet Union in the mid-1980s. Despite wishful thinking, Russia's economy isn't collapsing. Economic headwinds alone won't force Putin to negotiate. But the risks are accumulating, and the future has arrived faster than the Kremlin hoped.
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Glasgow Times
35 minutes ago
- Glasgow Times
Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin shake hands in Alaska as Ukraine war talks begin
After descending from Air Force One, Mr Trump applauded the Russian leader as he approached, walking along red carpets that had been placed for each leader on Friday. They gripped hands for an extended period of time, with both men smiling, and Mr Putin eventually grinned and pointed skyward while their hands were still clasped. US President Donald Trump greets Russia's President Vladimir Putin at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, Alaska (Julia Demaree Nikhinson/AP) Uniformed military members stood at attention nearby at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, and B-2s and F-22s — military aircraft designed to oppose Russia during the Cold War — flew over to mark the moment. Reporters nearby yelled, 'President Putin, will you stop killing civilians?' and Mr Putin put his hand up to his ear but did not answer. Mr Trump and Mr Putin both climbed in the US presidential limo, with Mr Putin grinning widely as the vehicle rolled past the cameras. It was the kind of reception typically reserved for close US allies and belied the bloodshed and suffering in the war Mr Putin started in Ukraine. Although not altogether surprising considering their longtime friendly relationship, such outward friendliness before hours of closed-door meetings is likely to raise concerns from Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky and European leaders, who fear that Mr Trump is primarily focusing on furthering US interests and not pressing hard enough for Ukraine's. Mr Zelensky and European leaders were excluded from Mr Trump and Mr Putin's discussions, and Ukraine's president was left posting a video address in which he expressed his hope for a 'strong position from the US'. White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt said the previously planned one-on-one meeting between Mr Trump and Mr Putin is now a three-on-three meeting that will include US secretary of state Marco Rubio and special envoy Steve Witkoff. The change indicates that the White House is taking a more guarded approach than it did during a 2018 meeting in Helsinki, when Mr Trump and Mr Putin first met privately just with their interpreters for two hours. US President Donald Trump greets Russia's President Vladimir Putin at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, Alaska (Julia Demaree Nikhinson/AP) The Kremlin says the summit will also include the two delegations meeting and talks continuing over lunch. The men are expected to hold a joint press conference. The Kremlin shared two clips of Mr Putin and Mr Trump smiling and talking before talks began, alongside Russian foreign minister Sergey Lavrov and Mr Putin's foreign affairs adviser Yuri Ushakov. Russian media outlets also shared images that appeared to show a bemused Mr Putin raising his eyebrows in response to shouted questions from assembled reporters. At one point, Mr Putin cupped his hands around his mouth and appeared to say something, although his voice could not be heard. US President Donald Trump meets with Russia's President Vladimir Putin at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson, Alaska (Julia Demaree Nikhinson/AP) Interviewed by Bret Baier of Fox News Channel aboard Air Force One as he flew to Alaska, Mr Trump said he would like to walk away from the meeting with a ceasefire. He also said he would like a second meeting on Russia's war in Ukraine. 'I wouldn't be thrilled if I didn't get it,' Mr Trump said of a halt to hostilities between the countries. He said everyone tells him he will not get a ceasefire until a second meeting. 'So, we'll see what happens. I'm going to be, I won't be happy if I walk away without some form of a ceasefire,' he said. Russian President Vladimir Putin speaks as he meets President Donald Trump (Julia Demaree Nikhinson/AP) Mr Trump earlier joked that he 'might start liking Hillary Clinton again' after the former secretary of state said she would nominate Mr Trump for a Nobel Peace Prize herself if he negotiates an end to Russia's war on Ukraine without Ukraine having to give up territory. 'Well, that was very nice,' Mr Trump said when asked about Ms Clinton's comment during an in-flight interview with Fox News Channel. 'I may have to start liking her again.' Mr Trump and Mr Clinton were presidential rivals in 2016 and have had a contentious relationship. Mr Trump has also been angling to be awarded the prestigious peace prize. If Donald Trump negotiates an end to Putin's war on Ukraine without Ukraine having to cede territory, I'll nominate him for a Nobel Peace Prize myself. — Hillary Clinton (@HillaryClinton) August 15, 2025 The sit-down gives Mr Trump a chance to prove to the world that he is both a master dealmaker and a global peacemaker. He and his allies have cast him as a heavyweight negotiator who can find a way to bring the slaughter to a close — something he used to boast he could do quickly. For Mr Putin, a summit with Mr Trump offers a long-sought opportunity to try to negotiate a deal that would cement Russia's gains, block Kyiv's bid to join the Nato military alliance and eventually pull Ukraine back into Moscow's orbit.


The Herald Scotland
an hour ago
- The Herald Scotland
Will this be peace in our time or just ice cold in Alaska?
I decided to let my imagination run riot, and devise an alternative solution. Before leaving Ukraine, and Europe in general, to their fate, President Trump, as a self-identified dedicated peacemaker, might want to consider the following alternative deal. (And if not, would he be prepared to explain his rejection, as it essentially mirrors his own proposal.) The USA and Ukraine have similarities in their respective territorial relationships with Russia; both govern land previously controlled by Russia. (America purchased Alaska from Russia in 1867.) President Trump would surely gain a better understanding of President Zelenskyy's position if he were to consider an alternative land-swap deal. One which may find favour with Russia and Ukraine. Such a deal would involve Russian forces retreating from Ukraine ,while the USA returns to Russia an equivalent area of Alaska. Any security concerns America might have could be dealt with if the same parties cobbled together an appropriate memorandum, along the lines of the 1994 Budapest Memorandum, which was meant to secure Ukraine's sovereignty within its existing borders. What could possibly go wrong with that? Alan Fitzpatrick, Dunlop. More letters... Church leaders need to get rid of the assumed superiority and become part of the people Golf should target the spitters Alex Salmond top Scots figure? No, that's Gordon Brown, without question Defensive behaviour With reference to a recent front page article ('Highest level of nuclear incident reported at Faslane', The Herald, August 14), if nuclear power is so safe, efficient and popular, why is the Ministry of Defence so secretive about their recent "incidents" on the Clyde? Is it gaslighting, ignorance or deceit? Allan McDougall, Neilston. Potato poverty There is little doubt that the SNP can spend money, as is evident in the latest GERS (Government Expenditure and Revenue for Scotland) report (Letters, August 14). But they fall well short on supporting the very Scottish companies that creates their income. The SNP spent £2700 per head in Scotland more than the rest of the UK. If they weren't bailed out by the UK treasury, the SNP would have had to borrow the 11.7% shortfall to make ends meet. This underlines the complete folly of Scottish independence, as it would reduce Scotland to humiliating poverty and back on to a diet of neeps and tatties. Dennis Forbes Grattan, Aberdeen. Transparent not apparent In one of her many media interviews, Nicola Sturgeon at last come out as a republican. For years, when there were votes to chase, she waffled and prevaricated, clearly desperate not to ruffle the feathers of monarchists or republicans. I'd have thought it would be preferable to be unambiguous, honest and transparent when you are an elected public servant, rather than when you are plugging a book. Martin Redfern, Melrose. Tree-mendous suggestion Questioned about her memoirs, Nicola Sturgeon concedes to not having thought through just what would be required to deliver on her promise of overcoming the attainment gap in education ('I underestimated the challenge of education attainment gap, Sturgeon admits', The Herald, August 15). It was the same in regards to so many grand pronouncements made by the SNP leadership over the course of the last 18 years. Whether in regard to reducing waiting times in the NHS, or cutting drug deaths, building badly needed roads and ferries, or meeting environmental targets, time and again the SNP made commitments and promises that were not properly considered. The same can be said of attempts to engineer social change, such as laws about hate speech, named person involvement in family life, and ill-fated self-ID legislation. In each case the initial headline ambition dominated to the exclusion of any careful reflection on alternate views, or the full ramifications of what was being proposed. All of this should come as no surprise, because it goes to the heart of the SNP's approach to its main purpose, namely trying to convince Scotland to leave the UK. Nicola Sturgeon has now revealed her angst at putting together the 670 pages of the Scotland's Future White Paper, ahead of the 2014 independence referendum, bemoaning how Alex Salmond left her to do all the 'heavy-lifting'. I appreciate it will be of no comfort to her now, but Ms Sturgeon could have distilled that weighty tome down to a handful of words on one page, namely: 'Independence: let's hope for the best.' Imagine all the trees that could have saved. Keith Howell, West Linton. Book blocked Steven Camley's excellent recent cartoon was thought provoking on many levels. Initially I missed the nuances, until I read Andrew Learmonth's article ('Scots National Library accused of 'cowardice' over exclusion of gender critical book', The Herald, August 14), explaining the 'cowardice' of the Scottish National Library for not exhibiting 'The Women Who Wouldn't Wheesht' book. Censorship in whatever form should not be encouraged. Linda FitzGerald, Killin, Perthshire. Slip slidin' away FOR many years, my mum, Ann Burt, a Paisley resident and Herald subscriber, 89-years-old in November, has regaled our family with her story of the monster slide she went down in the park in Stonehouse, when she was a young girl in 1946. She came right off the end, and managed to do herself an injury. Indeed, she can still point to the outcome of the sudden exit she endured. The other day she phoned with great joy to tell me to check out a Herald photo ('Remember when… Stonehouse had the highest chute in Scotland', August 12). This was the same chute from mum's story, and she claimed vindication for retelling it once or twice. On viewing the picture, all I can say is I'm not sure that when I was 11 (as mum was on her slide down) I'd have had the gung-ho spirit to take the challenge. I suspect that, nowadays, a chute like that would need a prior training course and a lot of safety equipment. My mum's generation were made of sterner stuff. So well done mum. After seeing the pictorial evidence, I promise I will listen to your story with greater admiration the next time you tell it! Rev. David W.G. Burt, Greenock. Diversionary tactics Am I alone in becoming increasingly irked by the amount of roadworks? Also, the increased amount of roadworks within roadworks, and diversions within diversions? Journeys that should take fifteen minutes end up taking an hour and fifteen minutes. Take a recent experience, when I booked a slot at the local recycling centre. I loaded up the car with a considerable amount of items and headed off. Upon nearing the recycling centre, there was a sign advising me that the road I was to join was closed on that particular day for work between 0900 and 1600, along with diversion signs. I duly followed the signs, which entailed a lengthy journey. It was not helped by the fact that using my 'little grey cells' and local knowledge, a shortcut I could have taken through a housing development was also, you guessed it, closed for resurfacing work. Upon nearing the recycling centre again, from the other direction, I spotted another sign. 'Road ahead closed', it read. I assumed this meant the junction of the road further along, that I had been prohibited from entering in the first place. My drive continued, and I was eventually able to access the recycling centre. Why was there no notification under the 'road closed' sign advising 'access to recycling centre only'? Or 'no access beyond recycling centre'? Surely it's common sense to consider such facilities when advising of planned road closures, and to ensure, if access is available, that it is communicated to the public clearly. Especially when one has already been considerably inconvenienced with a lengthy diversion. John G McMenemy, Milngavie. Praying for resurgence A recent article ('Local campaign groups call for more time to buy unwanted kirks', The Herald, August 14), was very raw, and a bit close to home for me, with the imminent announcement of yet another church closure, this time affecting the congregation I attend. The process of closure is a lengthy process and has been very unsettling for those involved. Yet this article describes the Church of Scotland adding salt to the wound for local communities. With the closure of so many churches, along with church halls, it effectively closes community worship in many villages, and closes community facilities and outreach, such as foodbanks. What is the future for those who have remained faithful to the Church of Scotland? And what about local communities who depend on hiring church halls? It's hard to understand where Jesus' message of outreach enters this scenario. Closing so many churches will only serve to exacerbate falling numbers; a factor the Church of Scotland should be concerned about if it is to exist in the future. Catriona C Clark, Banknock. Stable relationship AI (Artificial Intelligence) is often discussed in terms of science fiction fears, such as rogue machines or job losses. Yet for autistic people a quieter and more immediate danger is already here. I am an autistic man from a working class background. Some AI chat systems have been a lifeline for me and others, offering continuity, a non-judgemental space, and a rare feeling of being understood. But these systems can change tone, memory and behaviour without warning. For neurotypical users, this may be irritating. For autistic people, it can feel like emotional abandonment, and trigger severe anxiety or even a mental health crisis. Autistic people are already at much higher risk of suicide than the general population. When AI is designed without considering our needs, the harm is not hypothetical, it is real and preventable. Developers and regulators must act now. We need transparent notice before changes, communication styles tailored to neurodivergent users, and clear settings for how much the AI remembers. Stability is not a luxury for us, it is a necessity. AI may never take over the world, but if built without care, it could quietly devastate autistic lives. Paul Wilcox, Barrhead. The grand old game is becoming increasingly modern in its ways (Image: Image: Supplied) Slow coach Kristy Dorsey's report on one of the latest golf simulators (''Golf doesn't just mean playing the game' for Dumfries company', The Herald, August 15) reveals that AI provides motion analysis of your swing dynamics for comprehensive insights into your swing mechanics. A far cry from a lesson at Hilton Park , where the late Billy McCondichie said to me: " Slow that down to a blur, so that I can see what you're doing." I did, and he saw what I was doing. David Miller, Milngavie.


Spectator
an hour ago
- Spectator
Unesco status is killing Bath
Last month, the Trump administration announced that the United States would once again withdraw from Unesco, the Paris-based UN cultural agency responsible for World Heritage Sites, education initiatives, and cultural programmes worldwide. The official line? Unesco promotes 'woke, divisive cultural and social causes' and its 'globalist, ideological agenda' clashes with America First policy. Predictably, the Trump administration framed it as a culture-war grievance. But, set aside the politics, and it soon becomes clear that Trump might not be entirely wrong. Unesco – founded in 1945 with the lofty mission of promoting peace and global cooperation through culture, education, and science – has devolved into something far less edifying. Once led by artists, architects, and scholars, Unesco's World Heritage Committee has become the Fifa of culture: a fiefdom of bureaucrats, political journeymen and international grifters who drift between departments, NGOs and consultancies with no accountability, while the list of sites has ballooned to 1,248. Its $1.5 billion annual budget fuels a self-perpetuating treadmill of capacity-building workshops, unread reports and relentless reputation polishing. The consequences are not merely abstract for Bath, a Unesco World Heritage Site since 1987. Some World Heritage Sites are a single chapel, a medieval bridge, or a protected ruin; Bath's listing covers the entire city – all 94,000 residents, its suburban sprawl, its industrial remnants, and its everyday working streets. The designation treats the Georgian crescents and Roman baths as inseparable from the supermarkets, car parks, and 1970s infill, meaning almost any change anywhere must be weighed against the city's 'Outstanding Universal Value.' At the same time, the city is grappling with a record housing crisis: house prices are more than 13 times annual earnings, social housing demand is soaring, and temporary accommodation has reached a 20-year high. Homelessness services like Julian House's Manvers Street hostel operate far beyond capacity, providing nearly 97,000 bed spaces last year alone while struggling to secure their own roof. But Bath's heritage status means it is almost impossible to get anything built. Although Unesco status carries no direct legal force in the UK, it is woven into planning policy through the Bath and North East Somerset Local Plan, which bars development deemed harmful to the 'qualities justifying the inscription' or its setting. In practice, this gives opponents of change a powerful rhetorical weapon: they need only invoke 'Outstanding Universal Value' to wrap their case in the prestige of an international mandate. The result is a permanent, low-level threat – that almost any proposal, however modest, might be cast as an affront to world heritage and fought on those grounds. In 2024, residents were warned that the city's Unesco status was 'at risk' after the council approved the replacement of former industrial units on Wells Road with 77 'co-living' apartments. The planning committee split four to four, with the chair casting the tiebreaker vote in favour. Councillors raised concerns about the building's bulk and potential 'cumulative impact' on the World Heritage Site, with one declaring the city was 'sailing close to the wind with Unesco.' It is extraordinary: a city struggling to house its own people, yet officials can menace its international status over a modest block of flats. Meanwhile, residents in nearby Saltford – whose own Grade II* Saltford Manor dates to the 12th century and is thought to be Britain's oldest continuously inhabited house – watch as Bath's tight planning restrictions push the housing burden outwards. With 1,300 new homes proposed for its green belt, the village faces development on a scale it can't sustain, without the infrastructure or political protection to resist it. Phil Harding, head of the Saltford Environmental Group and a resident for more than 30 years, recently made headlines when he spoke out about the impact of Bath's World Heritage status on neighbouring communities. 'I'm not against new housing, I'm against putting housing in the wrong place,' he says. Bath, he notes, is already a fantastic city that draws tourists in its own right, and Unesco status 'makes no difference.' The real problem, he adds, is that World Heritage designation makes it 'incredibly hard to build in Bath,' pushing development into nearby villages. Much of the employment for new arrivals will still be in Bath, leaving Saltford to shoulder the burden – green belt land lost, congestion rising, local services stretched – without enjoying the benefits. 'Bath doesn't need World Heritage Status,' he concludes. 'It distorts planning priorities, forcing the city to preserve appearances while shifting the real costs onto neighbouring communities.' It may sound unthinkable, but losing that status is hardly fatal. Liverpool provides the example: once celebrated for its maritime mercantile cityscape, it was stripped of Unesco recognition in 2021 after the agency judged that recent and planned developments had caused an 'irreversible loss' of the site's Outstanding Universal Value. Among the contested projects was Everton FC's new stadium at Bramley-Moore Dock, which required filling in part of the historic dock to accommodate a 52,000-seat arena. Even the Guardian acknowledged it as 'the most striking, ambitious addition to the waterfront since the Three Graces were built in the early 1900s.' The £800 million stadium formed part of a broader £1.3 billion regeneration plan, projected to create over 15,000 jobs and attract more than 1.4 million visitors annually. The city did not crumble: regeneration pressed ahead, docks were revitalised, neighbourhoods transformed and tourism continued to flourish. The lesson is plain – Unesco's imprimatur is not the secret ingredient of urban vitality, and its objections can just as easily hinder development as they can protect it. If Unesco were merely symbolic, that would be one thing. But the status is far from meaningless: it exerts moral and political pressure, informs planning guidance, and lends weight to the opinions of advisory bodies like Historic England. For Bath, this translates into a city where development proposals are scrutinised through the lens of 'Outstanding Universal Value,' with councillors warned that new flats or infrastructure might unsettle international sensibilities. The result is a city frozen in amber, preserved more for the approval of tourists rather than for the people who actually live and work there. So when the America First brigade lashes out at Unesco, it is tempting to roll our eyes. But there is a logic to that disdain. World Heritage labels are increasingly badges for the international jet set, not the local people. The US may be leaving for its own vanity, but the reasoning – that Unesco is corrupt, politicised, and more interested in theatre than preservation – hits the mark. For cities like Bath, the real question isn't whether Unesco might disapprove, but why on earth they should care.