By Khaled Salih

How Trump turned diplomacy into theater, and humiliation into the grammar of global power.

At Sharm el-Sheikh in 2025, Donald Trump transformed a peace summit into a masterclass in public domination. His gestures, jokes, and calculated delays exposed how performance, not policy, now defines international relations. In Trump’s world, attention is power — and humiliation is its currency.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want Donald Trump around for dinner. But don’t underestimate the danger to the world if Trump is re-elected this time round.”

— Sir Keir Starmer, BBC interview, June 13, 2024

“So many of them will be with us in Egypt in a moment, I think. I’m not sure — they may have taken their Boeing 747s and left. I said, ‘What kind of a plane do you fly?’ ‘A 747.’ I said, ‘That’s a large plane.’ No, they may have left on their brand-new Boeing 747s. I don’t know, we’re going to find out soon.”

— Donald J. Trump, addressing the Israeli Knesset, October 13, 2025

Sharm el-Sheikh

The desert sun of Sharm el-Sheikh casts power in sharp relief. On October 13, 2025, the Egyptian resort—long a venue for climate summits and counterterrorism forums—hosted a seismic diplomatic spectacle: a two-hour International Peace Summit co-chaired by U.S. President Donald J. Trump and Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi. Over thirty world leaders gathered to celebrate a Gaza ceasefire deal.

Billboards hailed the city as the “City of Peace.” Trump’s motorcade idled outside for thirteen deliberate minutes—a silent signal that the show would begin on his terms, echoing his earlier delay at the Knesset, where he had joked about Arab leaders fleeing in their 747s. Some delegations reportedly waited up to seven hours, the tension amplifying his control of the timeline.

When Trump finally entered the hall, he paused at the threshold, scanning the room with a showman’s instinct. His opening line was not about peace or policy but about planes—specifically, the opulent 747s of the Arab elite. “They’ve got the best 747s—gold, marble, the works,” he said, half in admiration, half in menace. “But if they’re gone when I get to Egypt, those planes won’t mean a thing. Because I own the sky.”

Laughter rippled uneasily. In one stroke, Trump turned a symbol of Gulf wealth into a prop of his authority. The Boeing 747—once a sovereign emblem—became a metaphor for fragility, a reminder that prestige depends on American indulgence. It was the first move in a performance guided by the Seven Principles of Trump’s Post-Modern Realpolitik, as outlined by Halperin and Morton.

Principle One: Disruption as Strategy

Trump’s diplomacy thrives on disruption. Before the summit, he sent Steve Witkoff—a Manhattan real-estate magnate and his hand-picked negotiator for the Gaza deal—to handle Arab coordination. To the State Department, the choice was absurd; to Trump, it was genius. “Bureaucrats write memos,” he once said. “Businessmen close deals.”

Witkoff’s transactional instincts set the tone. He flattered sheikhs, measured egos, and ensured that every leader understood the price of access to Trump’s favor. By the time the summit opened, diplomacy had been redefined as a personal transaction, binding rulers through loyalty rather than protocol.

Principle Two: Commerce as Diplomacy

For Trump, business and diplomacy are inseparable—the two sides of leverage. His 747 remark was not just a taunt; it reminded the Gulf monarchs that their fortunes, like their aircraft, rested on American engineering and goodwill.

Turning to President el-Sisi, whom he repeatedly called “the General,” Trump added a veiled warning: “Your F-16s, F-15s—beautiful jets. We built them. You fly them. But without us, they’re grounded.” The room fell silent. Egypt’s air power—its pride—was reframed as a U.S. loan, revocable at will. Dependence became deference.

Principle Three: Reading the Room

Trump’s greatest instinct is psychological. “He smells pride like a predator smells fear,” Halperin observes. At Sharm el-Sheikh, he exploited the insecurities of Arab, Muslim, and European leaders alike.

Before his arrival, rumors swirled that some princes might leave early to protest his delay. Trump countered by leaking that any premature departure would be a “personal insult” to the United States. Every seat stayed filled.

He rewarded compliance with barbed praise: To the Saudi crown prince: “A young dealmaker — I like that.” To the Emiratis: “You’ve done well, but don’t forget who paved the way.” To Sisi: “General, you keep things tight—maybe too tight, but we like strongmen.”

Laughter—tight and uneasy—signaled submission. Trump had turned the summit into a stage for status calibration.

Principle Four: Defiance as Armor

Trump’s defiance of decorum is both shield and sword. Introducing Italy’s Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni—the only woman among thirty leaders—he quipped, “She’s a beautiful woman—say that in America, and you’re canceled. I’ll take the risk.” The room half-laughed, half-winced.

When France’s Emmanuel Macron offered a two-handed clasp, Trump turned it into a vise—his grip a test of endurance. As Macron’s knuckles whitened, Trump leaned in and said, “Good grip for a little guy.” Cameras captured the entire exchange. The handshake was not diplomacy—it was dominance.

Principle Five: Tactical Ambiguity

Trump’s unpredictability is his sharpest weapon. No one at Sharm el-Sheikh knew if he would play peacemaker or provocateur, and that uncertainty became leverage.

When he joked, “I’m late for Egypt—those guys might’ve taken off already—big planes, big egos,” the jest concealed a threat: leave, and you’ll pay. Even Sisi, smiling through tension, stayed rooted. Every leader understood that ambiguity carried consequence.

Principle Six: Spectacle as Power

Every Trump event is a production. Sharm el-Sheikh was choreographed for maximal impact: biblical lighting, strategic camera angles, applause cued by staffers. He greeted thirty-five leaders one by one beneath the Peace 2025 banner before the group photo.

When he spotted Turkey’s President Erdoğan hesitating, Trump called out, “C’mon, Recep, do it right—the Trump way!” Erdoğan, caught off-guard, mimicked the thumbs-up. “Even the strong ones follow,” Trump quipped. The laughter masked discomfort; the cameras immortalized control.

Principle Seven: Narrative is Victory

Trump doesn’t negotiate outcomes—he defines them. Before the summit even ended, he posted on Truth Social: “Historic day. America’s back, and the world knows it.”

No major agreement had been signed beyond the ceasefire’s Phase Two, yet Trump owned the narrative. “Perception beats reality every time,” he once said—and at Sharm el-Sheikh, perception was reality.

The Art of Humiliation

Humiliation is Trump’s currency. At Sharm el-Sheikh, he spent it lavishly. He summoned Britain’s Prime Minister Keir Starmer to the podium—then ignored him, leaving him stranded as the audience laughed. “Great guy,” Trump said when Starmer retreated, “but not much of a talker.”

Moments later, he praised Pakistan’s Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif for “courage under fire,” granting him time to speak. Sharif responded by nominating Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize. The contrast was deliberate—a lesson in hierarchy played out on live television.

Humiliation wasn’t collateral damage; it was method.

The System Behind the Spectacle

Trump’s behavior was not chaos—it was doctrine. The Seven Principles outlined by Halperin and Morton form a coherent system of post-modern realpolitik:

1. Unconventional Envoys – personal loyalty over protocol.

2. Commerce as Control – allies recast as clients.

3. Psychological Reading – ego mastery over policy.

4. Immunity to Criticism – provocation as power.

5. Strategic Ambiguity – uncertainty as deterrent.

6. Spectacle and Timing – drama over substance.

7. Narrative Framing – image as outcome.

Power, in this system, lies not in treaties but in attention.

Humiliation as Diplomacy

Trump redefined diplomacy as the language of humiliation. To Arab leaders, he implied: your wealth, your planes, your pride are mine to grant or withhold. To Europeans, he signaled: your civility is weakness, and I will exploit it.

By joking that Arab leaders might flee in their lavish jets, he diminished their autonomy. Their laughter—forced and fragile—marked the realignment of power. “There are some of you I don’t like very much, and some I don’t like at all,” he said, scanning the room. “But I won’t say who. Or maybe you will.” Uneasy smiles followed.

The Performative Politician

Trump’s innovation is theatrical. He treats geopolitics as stagecraft, diplomacy as entertainment, and humiliation as spectacle. As philosopher Peter Sloterdijk observed, modernity replaced theology with psychology; Trump replaced both with showmanship. In his world, power is attention, and he commands it absolutely.

At Sharm el-Sheikh, every gesture—the crushing handshake with Macron, the forced thumbs-up from Erdoğan, the sidelining of Starmer—was choreography. “If they’re talking about me,” he once said, “they’re losing.”

The Anecdote as Weapon

Trump’s offhand remarks are scalpels of dominance. Calling Sisi “the General” stripped him of presidential dignity. Mocking Erdoğan’s interpreter turned a delegation into a punchline. Each quip was a small humiliation; together they built a tableau of supremacy.

His humor—derisive yet disarming—made cruelty palatable. Leaders laughed to save face, but laughter bound them to his narrative. Flattery became submission; attention became tribute.

Power as Performance

Sharm el-Sheikh was not a summit—it was a pageant. Trump proved that modern power lies not in treaties but in perception. His Seven Principles converge on one truth: control the spectacle, and you control the world.

He is not an anomaly but a prototype—the performative sharif of the global stage. His genius lies in narration, not negotiation; in humiliation, not persuasion. The 747 became a throne, the F-16 a leash, the handshake a trap.

The Aftermath

As the summit ended, leaders dispersed in uneasy silence. Macron left early, muttering about “circus politics.” Erdoğan returned to Ankara, grudgingly impressed despite Netanyahu’s exclusion. Sisi smiled through gritted teeth, assuring aides he had “handled” Trump, while Egyptian media hailed the Sisi Peace Maker. Starmer’s team downplayed his snub as “light-hearted,” though memes lingered. Sharif faced domestic backlash for “sycophancy,” yet left with promises of U.S. aid.

Trump, meanwhile, had already claimed victory. His declaration—The Trump Doctrine for Enduring Peace and Prosperity—loomed symbolic: a narrative triumph over substance.

Sources:

Morton Halperin, 20251014, “The Seven Secrets Behind Trump’s Peace Deal and Israel’s Next Test.” www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyFFgZU3BnI&t=388s

Roll Call: “Speech: Donald Trump Delivers Remarks at the Peace Ceremony in Egypt - October 13, 2025.” https://rollcall.com/factbase/trump/transcript/donald-trump-speech-israel-gaza-peace-event-egypt-october-13-2025/

Peter Sloterdijk, 2010, Rage and Time: A Psychopolitical Investigation. Translated by Mario Wenning. New York: Columbia University Press.

Donald J. Trump, 20251013, “President Trump’s statement Knesset.” https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/president-donald-trump-statement-to-the-knesset?utm_source=chatgpt.com