Diplomatic Summits Are Just Expensive Group Chats With Worse Food

[World leaders flew thousands of miles on private jets to sign a non-binding resolution agreeing to hold another meeting next month. Here is my breakdown of the political theatre]

After three days of watching world leaders pose for photographs, deliver pre-written platitudes, and prod suspiciously dry chicken breasts, I can report that the modern diplomatic summit has evolved into the world’s most expensive group chat. The only difference is that nobody can leave you on read, because the cameras are rolling and the seating chart has been negotiated for six weeks.Think about it. The agenda is basically a group poll nobody responds to until the last minute. The opening statements are long voice notes that everyone pretends to listen to while checking their own talking points. The “family photo” is the world’s most awkward group selfie, except the people in it command armies and have strong opinions about fish quotas. And the final communiqué? It is the diplomatic equivalent of a thumbs-up emoji from everyone in the chat — technically a response, emotionally a void.The real work, we are told, happens in “bilateral side meetings.” These are private messages. But because every word will be leaked by an intern before the coffee has cooled, the leaders speak in code. “We had a frank and constructive exchange” means they argued for forty minutes about whether the word “shall” should be replaced with “should.” “A useful dialogue” means they disagreed so profoundly that the translators had to go lie down. If your WhatsApp group had this many leaks, you would have deleted it years ago.Then there is the food, which deserves its own international tribunal. Menus are printed in French and describe things like “a symphony of seasonal vegetables with a velouté of heritage legumes.” What arrives is a plate of wilted microgreens, a chicken breast that has been cooked until it has given up all hope, and a sauce that tastes like someone whispered the word “flavor” near a cup of warm water. The dessert is listed as “textures of chocolate,” but it is a brownie that lost its will to live somewhere between the kitchen and the head table. The water costs more per bottle than the entire delegation’s lunch budget in several of the countries represented. And the coffee? The coffee is why wars exist.Let us not forget the carbon footprint. World leaders flew thousands of miles on private jets — some of them in entire fleets — to sit in a conference center that required 4,000 staff, 700 security vehicles, and enough electricity to power a small city. Then, with straight faces, they signed a non-binding resolution about climate action. The resolution did not commit anyone to anything. It “welcomed” and “recognized” and “encouraged.” The only binding clause was the date of the next summit, which will be held next month in a different city, presumably to give the private jet caterers more business. Carbon offsets were mentioned. I assume someone planted a tree in a country none of them will ever visit.This is the genius of non-binding resolutions. They are written in a language I call “Diplomatic Verdana.” Nothing is sharp, everything is legalese, and all meaning has been sanded down to a smooth, frictionless surface. “We note with concern” means “we saw the news.” “We reaffirm our shared commitment” means “we all remember the thing we agreed to pretend to care about.” “We call upon all parties to consider taking meaningful steps” means “good luck, someone else.” The communiqué is 14 pages long and says absolutely nothing, but it says it in six official languages, which is expensive.And what is the primary achievement of any summit? Another summit. This is the great diplomatic pyramid scheme. The main KPI of a gathering of world leaders is to produce a new gathering of world leaders. They agree to meet again next month, then next quarter, then next year, in a rotating list of cities with nice hotels and adequate helipads. If a summit were a startup, its entire business model would be scheduling meetings about scheduling meetings. You cannot fail if the only measurable outcome is continuity.The political theatre is, of course, exquisite. The handshake duration is analyzed by former ambassadors as if it were the Zapruder film. A six-second handshake means “strategic patience.” A nine-second handshake means “warming relations.” A four-second handshake means the other leader had a flight to catch, but the commentariat will turn it into a declaration of cold war. The seating chart is a map of global power, except it is decided by someone in logistics with a spreadsheet. The flags are placed exactly 23 centimeters apart to avoid implying either too much love or too little. And the leader who stands slightly to the left in the family photo? That is not a mistake. That is a signal.So why do we keep doing this? Because it feels important. Because leaders need the shot of themselves walking down a long corridor with their security detail, looking burdened but resolute. Because aides need the frequent flyer miles. Because the news needs a live shot of a motorcade. Because if we admitted that the whole thing could have been an email — or worse, a shared Google Doc — a lot of people would have to find real jobs.Here is my radical proposal. Cancel the next in-person summit. Create one group chat. Add all the leaders. Pin the agenda. Ask them to react with a thumbs-up if they agree. The money saved could feed millions, fund actual climate adaptation, or at least buy everyone a decent sandwich. But they will not do it, because then how would anyone know they are serious? Seriousness is communicated through private jets, long tables, and the visible suffering of caterers.Next time you read about a “landmark agreement” that changes nothing, remember: it is just a group chat with better flags and worse snacks. The only people who benefited are the hotel managers, the pilots, and the photographer who had to Photoshop three leaders into the family photo because they were already in their cars.