In Trump’s first term, he rejected the rules. In his second, he’s rewriting the script
It’s supposed to be where the world’s most powerful democracies coordinate global policy, issue joint statements, and voice their “deep alarm” and “grave concern” over bad stuff that’s happening.
In Trump’s eyes, all this diplomatic decorum, all these synchronized statements and tiresome talking points are as lame as a conspiracy theory without Jews. Trump sees and hears one thing: boring. Too many leaders talking in turns, too many topics he didn’t choose, and too many signatures required on a document that no one actually reads (unless they absolutely need to for a living).
These summits frustrate him because they’re designed to smooth edges, but he runs on friction. And results. Trump doesn’t attend to collaborate, he attends to control. In a room full of cautious consensus-builders, he’d rather flip the table and sell the legs on Truth Social. When Trump wants to get something done, he wants it done his way, he wants it now, and he’ll throw a tantrum until it happens. After all, why bother making friends when you can make headlines?
And so in the past, instead of attending the G7, Trump would disrupt it. In 2017, he ditched a symbolic group stroll of world leaders and rolled solo in a golf cart instead. In 2018, he refused to sign the joint statement, then torched Trudeau on Twitter midflight, calling him “dishonest and weak.” He skipped climate sessions in 2019 and once floated inviting Russia just to shake things up. Show me the summit Trump attended and I’ll show you the mark he left on it.
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