WHEN DONALD TRUMP meets Vladimir Putin in Alaska it will be the seventh time the two have talked in person. This time is different, though. Since their last sit-down, Mr Putin has launched an unprovoked war, lost perhaps a million Russian soldiers (dead and wounded) and inflicted ceaseless misery on Ukrainians in pursuit of an imperial dream.
Undaunted, Mr Trump hopes to get in a room with a wily dictator, feel him out and forge a deal. It is the biggest test yet of his uniquely personal style of diplomacy. It is also a reminder of how unpredictable American foreign policy has become. Will Mr Trump be firm, making clear that America and its allies will do what it takes to guarantee Ukraine’s sovereignty? Or will he be in such a rush to reopen business with Russia that he rewards its aggression and leaves Ukraine vulnerable to future attacks? As everyone clamours for the president’s ear, no one knows what he will do.
At the beginning of Mr Trump’s second term his supporters had a theory about how he would wield American power. Rather than relying on deep relationships and expertise, he would rely on his gut. As a master negotiator with a knack for sensing what others want and fear, he would cut through the waffle and apply pressure ruthlessly. Everyone wants access to American markets. By threatening to shut them out, he would force recalcitrant foreigners to end wars and reset the terms of trade to America’s advantage. Career diplomats and experts would be replaced by rainmakers. Yes, his transactional approach might foster a bit of corruption. But if it brought peace in Ukraine or Gaza, who cared?
Alas, there are drawbacks to this approach. Using tariffs as a weapon hurts America, too. More fundamentally, junking universal principles for might-makes-right repels friends without necessarily cowing foes. And the substitution of presidential whim for any coherent theory of international relations makes geopolitics less predictable and more dangerous. Mr Trump is not a globalist, obviously. Nor is he an isolationist, or a believer in regional spheres of influence. He simply does what he wants, which changes frequently.
One way to make sense of Trumpism is that he divides his efforts at dealmaking into three categories: high, medium and low stakes. In the first category are America’s relations with unfriendly great powers, principally China and Russia. Israel is here, too, because of its importance in American domestic politics. Iran makes an appearance, because of the way it threatens its neighbours. All these relationships are complex, difficult and matter a lot to Mr Trump. If he scores a win here—if he ends the war in Ukraine, or brings peace between Israel and the Palestinians, or finds a formula for co-operating with China without endangering national security—then the pay-off is potentially staggering.
In the medium-stakes category Mr Trump puts Brazil, South Africa and, oddly, giant India. These are important countries that both America and China want in their camp. In most cases, their values are far closer to America’s than to China’s. Ties with them ought to be win-win. But they are unwilling to be bossed around, and take offence when Mr Trump insults or tries to bully them.
The small stakes, for Mr Trump, are in small or poor countries. A superpower can wield great influence over such places, sometimes to good ends. Mr Trump helped cement a peace deal between Azerbaijan and Armenia, for example, and brokered a truce between the Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda. These are welcome achievements. Azerbaijan and Armenia had been fighting for 35 years. Mr Trump mediated a reopening of trade and transport links. The fruits may include a weakening of Russian influence in the area. The Congo-Rwanda deal is much shakier—Rwandan-backed rebels have violated it repeatedly—but not nothing. And there may be an upside for America, in the form of mineral deals.
When it comes to medium-size stakes, Mr Trump’s method works less well. He has started needless feuds with the leaders of Brazil (because it is prosecuting a Trumpy ex-president for allegedly attempting a coup), with South Africa (because he believes, wrongly, that it is persecuting whites) and with India (infuriating its prime minister with painful tariffs and undiplomatic boasting). The result? India will draw closer to Russia again, and be less inclined to act as a counterweight against China. Brazil and South Africa see China as a more reliable partner than America. Mr Trump has won headlines that play well with his most ardent supporters. But America has lost out.
And when it comes to the highest stakes, the president is floundering. He has tried to coerce China with tariffs, but it is fighting back. This week Mr Trump blinked and extended another deadline. He also undermined his own national-security policy by lifting a ban on exports of Nvidia chips to China, while insisting that Uncle Sam gets a 15% cut.
On Ukraine, he has been wildly inconsistent, one day blaming it for having been invaded and threatening to cut military aid, then accusing Mr Putin of bad faith and threatening stiffer sanctions on Russia. On Israel, he has consistently given Binyamin Netanyahu everything he wants and extracted nothing in return. If Mr Trump’s bombing of Iran’s nuclear sites made Israel safer, well and good. But he has failed to use his leverage to restrain Israel’s unending war in Gaza.
The world is flattery
Other countries are learning how to play Mr Trump. A crypto deal and a nomination for a Nobel peace prize worked for Pakistan. A plane helped Qatar. The corruption is turning out to be as bad as almost anyone feared; the great deals have yet to materialise. Those who say Mr Trump is looking out for his own interests, not America’s, have plenty of ammunition.
All this is only a preliminary judgment. If Mr Trump stands up to Mr Putin this week, perhaps he can make his greatest-ever deal, ending Europe’s worst war since 1945. Sadly, the odds are against it.
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