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President Trump's foreign policy and deal-making are just high-stakes roleplay: dress like a hero, talk like a boss, disappear when the villains return.
With all this chaos clanging like pots in a political kitchen, let me say it plainly: President Trump is brilliant at starting fires but hopeless at putting them out. He’s good at igniting negotiations with theflair of a game show host, but when it’s time to settle and seal the deal, hestammers, stalls, and eventually sulks. Nobody can deny his ambition and energy—he charges into conflicts like a bull seeing red. But his style of escalation-then-maybe-negotiation is turning America’s foreign policy into a yo-yo of anxiety. His wild swings of threat and charm might dazzle stock traders and flatter news cycles, but behind the scenes, world leaders are privately bracing for the inevitable flop. It’s the oldest show in Trump’s playbook: light a fire, pose for the photo, and walk away before the smoke clears.
We’ve seen this tactic play out on too many stages. Let’s
start with Yemen. On May 6, he claimed to have brokered a ceasefire with the
Houthis. Yet, beneath the puffery, the deal only protected American
ships—barely a bandage on a bleeding artery. While Trump was boasting about
“peace through strength,” the Houthis continued targeting Israeli vessels and
threatening wider regional instability. His truce was like a screen door on a
submarine: symbolic, leaky, and ultimately useless.
Just four days later, he flaunted a "victory"
in securing a trade truce with China. Tariffs that had reached absurd
heights—145% on Chinese goods—were dialed back to a “reasonable” 30%, but only
for 90 days. That’s not strategy, that’s a stall. It's like a loan shark
forgiving a week's interest before sending in the muscle. The core
issues—cybersecurity, IP theft, economic coercion—remain unresolved. If Trump
was hoping to look like a master negotiator, he ended up looking more like a
dealer making change with counterfeit chips.
Now spin the globe to Iran. On May 11, his envoys met
with Iranian officials in Oman to revive the nuclear deal—yes, the very one he
shredded in 2018 with pomp and fury. And what’s back on the table now? A
diluted version of the same deal, with uranium enrichment in the spotlight
while missile technology and Iran’s militia funding conveniently escape
scrutiny. Trump demolished a functioning agreement just to chase headlines.
Now, after seven years of nuclear drift, he’s trying to sell us a hollow rerun with
a new coat of paint. As the saying goes, “You can’t teach an old hawk new
doves.”
Then there's the nuclear soap opera between India and
Pakistan. After Pakistan rattled its nuclear saber on May 10, Trump leapt in,
declared a ceasefire, and called it a win. But this so-called diplomacy came at
a steep cost: America bowed to Pakistan's blackmail, glossing over its ties to
terrorism. The result? India feels betrayed, Pakistan feels emboldened, and the
whole subcontinent is now a ticking time bomb with a faulty alarm clock. In the
Trump era, “diplomacy” seems to mean letting the most reckless player hold the
steering wheel—while blindfolded.
Let’s not forget Ukraine. Trump pushed Russia and Ukraine
into Istanbul peace talks, but who did Putin send? Bureaucratic
seat-fillers—not diplomats, not generals, not real negotiators. Why? Because
even Russia knows Trump’s talk is cheap and his promises expire faster than his
Cabinet appointments. His offer of a 30-day ceasefire is an insult, not a
solution. Long-term peace requires long-term deterrence. But Trump can’t see
beyond the next news cycle.
We’ve watched this game before. In January, Trump claimed
credit for a Gaza ceasefire. It lasted just 58 days. By March, the missiles
were back. Why? Because Trump has no appetite for enforcement. He loves the
stage, the cameras, the handshake—but not the homework. He doesn’t guarantee
peace; he loans it out like a bad prom tux—worn once, then forgotten.
Even when his short-term tactics nudge the stock market
upward, the long-term effect is corrosive. The S&P 500 may have bounced
back after the April 2 tariff bomb, but the dollar remains jittery. Global
investors are building risk premiums into everything from shipping to
semiconductor production. Why? Because Trump’s erratic foreign policy has made
American commitments as shaky as a tower of Jenga blocks in an earthquake.
The most revealing part of all this isn’t what Trump
does—it’s how world leaders react. They flatter him in public and flee him in
private. NATO allies are pouring money into their own defenses not out of
loyalty, but out of fear that Trump will once again ghost them when the going
gets tough. Middle Eastern leaders are signing transactional deals, but they’ve
stopped seeing America as a stabilizing force. Trump’s track record is a ledger
of broken pacts, retracted statements, and half-baked truces.
And yet, the Trump show goes on. His Gulf tour was
greased with promises of artificial intelligence, warplane deals, and mineral
investments. But none of it will matter if the foundations are fake. A deal
built on threats and improvisation can’t last. It’s like balancing a skyscraper
on matchsticks. He who builds his house on sand should not be surprised when
the flood comes.
The sad truth is that Trump’s diplomacy isn’t diplomacy
at all. It’s damage control dressed up as deal-making. It’s a game of chicken
where everyone else learns to dodge while America drifts. Every crisis he
“solves” is a problem he either started or escalated beyond recognition. And
the price of his theatrics is real: weakened alliances, emboldened adversaries,
and a world where no one trusts Washington to hold the line—or even remember
what line it drew last week.
In the end, Trump’s foreign policy feels like an
infomercial: lots of shouting, urgent promises, limited-time offers, and no
refunds. America deserves a better bargain than a dealmaker who can’t close,
can’t commit, and can’t be counted on when it matters most. Because if Trump is
the world's negotiator, then maybe it's time someone took the pen away before
he signs the planet into another mess—and throws in a set of steak knives just
to sweeten the disaster.
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