What initially appeared as impulsiveness and erratic behaviour has hardened into a method. Since the end of the Second World War, the United States presented its leadership as anchored - at least rhetorically - in rules, alliances, and restraint, even when it violated them regularly. That framework is now fading. Much of Trump’s approach is staged like a performance, with diplomacy turned into a TV show. However, beneath the fog lies an emerging logic: international relations shaped by exposure, pressure, and public humiliation, where power is displayed openly rather than masked by rules or shared norms.
This US shift is visible first in economic policy. Trade tariffs have been weaponized, announced theatrically, and used to reward compliance or punish resistance. Economic interdependence, once treated as a stabilizing factor, is now openly used as an instrument of extraction. The result is growing strategic unease among the United States’ friends and foes alike, notably among close Western partners who have for long decades leaned on American reliability and predictability.
Military power follows the same logic. The operation against Venezuela marked a turning point, not only for Latin America, but for Washington’s own definition of acceptable force. The intervention was not framed in the language of democracy or humanitarian protection. It was about control, resources, and strategic positioning. By forcibly capturing Venezuela’s president and curbing Chinese influence, Washington signalled that the Western Hemisphere would henceforth be governed through coercion rather than persuasion. We have entered the era of the “Donroe Doctrine,” as Trump himself has suggested; an updated, unapologetic version of Monroe for a more flagrant age.
Seen this way, Venezuela was less a display of confidence than an expression of anxiety: a dominant power acting defensively in response to shifting global balances. Force is used early, visibly, and decisively; not to manage decline, but to deny it.
Iran occupies a similar place in this strategic landscape. Pressure is constant, sanctions remain central, and military action is calibrated but real. The objective is containment without resolution. This keeps tensions permanently elevated and reinforces a regional environment defined by uncertainty rather than settlement.
Ukraine illustrates the same logic applied to a different theatre. Rather than seeking a stable security architecture or a negotiated equilibrium, Washington has treated the war as a lever, alternating between support, pressure, and strategic ambiguity. Commitments are signalled loudly, then relativized; allies are urged to contribute more, then publicly chastised for doing too little. The conflict is managed, not resolved. As in other cases, uncertainty is not a by-product but a tool, used to retain freedom of manoeuvre and to remind both partners and adversaries that outcomes remain contingent on Washington’s will.
The Middle East also exposes the political costs of this American approach. Trump’s strong alignment with Israel has satisfied some constituencies while unsettling others within his own base. Voters who expected disengagement have instead seen sustained involvement and open-ended commitments. Gaza, in particular, has sharpened these divisions. While the administration presents firmness as leadership, it has quietly lost support among those who believed “America First” implied distance from prolonged regional entanglements.
It is in this context that the proposed “Peace Board” by Trump must be understood. Initially presented as a practical mechanism to oversee post-war arrangements in Gaza, it has evolved into something far more ambitious. Its structure and logic suggest an attempt to bypass - and potentially replace - existing multilateral institutions, especially the United Nations.
The Board is built on a transactional model. Participation depends on financial contributions. Permanent seats are effectively purchased. Authority is concentrated, with decision-making power resting overwhelmingly with Washington. In effect, it points toward a counter-UN. This represents more than a technical adjustment. The United Nations, however imperfect, rests on sovereign equality and collective legitimacy. The Peace Board reflects a different vision; one in which diplomacy is reduced to bargaining among unequals, mediated by money, pressure, and personal authority.
As for Europe, it has felt the American shift consequences directly. The Trump administration's appetite for Greenland, combined with tariff threats and public pressure, has forced a reassessment of the transatlantic relationship. NATO increasingly appears less as an unconditional defence guarantee and more as a conditional, transactional arrangement.
The imbalance explains Europe’s cautious but evolving response. Acting collectively offers some leverage, while acting alone invites further Trump pressures. The gradual move away from appeasement reflects strategic calculation rather than confrontation. Conceding on sovereignty and institutional principles would only accelerate the return of spheres of influence as the organising logic of world politics.
This Trump pattern can be read through the lens developed by French political scientist Bertrand Badie, who has described humiliation as a central, and often underestimated, driver of contemporary international relations. Power, in this view, is exercised not only through force or hierarchy, but through exposure, degradation, and the deliberate placing of others in a position of submission. What matters is not merely winning a concession, but demonstrating who decides, who waits, and who obeys. Much of Trump’s diplomacy follows this logic: allies are pressured in public, negotiations are personalised, and compliance is valued less than visible acquiescence.
Alongside doctrine and strategy, another question has moved to the foreground; one of temperament rather than ideology. US Decisions now arrive by surprise, often through presidential late-night posts on Truth Social or offhand remarks, only to be reversed or contradicted days later. Allies learn of shifts second-hand, sometimes from television or social media rather than from diplomats. Confidential exchanges are no longer protected; they can be exposed when useful.
For instance, Donald Trump published on Tuesday a private message from Emmanuel Macron about Davos, Greenland, and a proposed G7 coordination meeting. The gesture was less about policy than display: reminding partners who controls the stage and who is left to bear the embarrassment. In this environment, unpredictability has become part of how the superpower now exercises its power.
Inside the United States, similar dynamics are at work. Executive power has expanded through emergency measures and weakened oversight. Legal and institutional constraints are increasingly treated as optional. Businesses and public institutions operate under constant uncertainty, unable to plan long-term. Domestic institutional erosion and external coercion reinforce one another. A presidency that seeks freedom from restraint at home is unlikely to accept limits abroad.
For regional actors and the world’s middle powers, such as Egypt, this ecology reinforces familiar lessons. Periods of systemic volatility reward balance, patience, and diversification. On sensitive regional issues -Gaza governance, reconstruction, and broader stabilisation- durable outcomes are more likely to emerge from coordinated engagement than from highly personalised initiatives whose continuity cannot be guaranteed. Preserving strategic balance and agility remains key.
The question is no longer whether this strategy generates instability: it certainly does, but how long others will continue adapting to it, rather than adjusting their own strategies to limit its costs.
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