There is a parallel universe where Donald Trump is the grand strategist of his own imagination. In this world, Trump remains bombastic, manipulative, and irresistibly drawn to casting himself as a risk-taker thriving on high-stakes moves. But he also somehow absorbs the hard-nosed realism and political sensitivity of his decade-long pen pal, Richard Nixon. The result is a leader who still craves spectacle, but understands the power of secrecy and executive control. Consequently, Trump would quietly work with key countries to hammer out a trade bloc instead of waging tariff wars. He would increase pressure on Venezuela while privately negotiating with regional actors on drugs, migration, and oil, rather than theatrically arresting Nicolás Maduro. He would turn to trusted intermediaries to open a back-channel with Iran on terrorism and nuclear issues, instead of launching unprovoked strikes. He would even revive the tentative back-channel diplomacy he once pursued with North Korea during his first term.
The hypothetical grand strategist Trump would conduct U.S. foreign policy in a manner that is bold yet deliberately restrained: he would audaciously engage adversaries on controversial issues, but wait months – perhaps years – for negotiations to bear fruit before claiming victory. This prudent diplomatic style would be the near opposite of the “maximum publicity” ethos on display in Trump: The Art of the Deal, his self-promotional best-selling book. The reality, unfortunately, is that there is little evidence that Trump is capable of even the slightest degree of deferred gratification. In his second term, Trump has doubled down on brinkmanship, staging diplomacy as a kind of grand, cathartic performance – pulling it ever further from its traditional role as the careful, tactful management of relations between governments.
The result is that U.S. diplomacy is reduced to a contest of muscle-flexing, or even geopolitical “meme war.” Rather than serving as a carefully crafted, inherently discreet channel to circumvent bureaucratic obstacles, domestic political pressures, and media attention, it begins to resemble a political reality show, replete with policy whiplash, melodramatic infighting, and media hysteria. The fix, however, may be simpler than many think: restore back-channel diplomacy to the center of U.S. foreign policy – minimizing the number of officials involved, operating away from the glare of public pressure, and delaying publicity until an acceptable outcome is secured.
Such back-channels were once the norm and were championed for their efficiency. However, that changed on January 8, 1918, when Woodrow Wilson delivered his famous Fourteen Points speech to Congress. At the top of the list was a call for “open covenants of peace, openly arrived at,” insisting that diplomacy should proceed “frankly and in the public view.” His push for transparency won widespread support, largely because it aligned with the prevailing revulsion toward the European system of secret alliances and ententes.
Wilson’s push reshaped global expectations, and back-channel diplomacy started to become an executive choice: leaders who embrace policy transparency are often praised, while those who prefer diplomatic secrecy are viewed with growing suspicion – if not outright illegitimacy. From the Iran-Contra affair during the Reagan administration to the Bush administration’s rendition program, covert actions have cast long shadows over presidential legacies.
Yet history tells a more complicated story. Through back-channel diplomacy, U.S. leaders achieved some of the most consequential breakthroughs of the modern era: Richard Nixon’s secret dialogue with Beijing paved the way for the restoration of relations between the U.S. and China; Barack Obama’s quiet negotiations with Cuba helped end decades of hostility between Washington and Havana; John F. Kennedy’s back-channel with the Soviet Union helped spare the world a potential nuclear war. As Henry Kissinger observed, back channels can “short-circuit the lower-level process,” allowing negotiators to bypass bureaucratic inertia and public posturing and unlock progress where public diplomacy stalls.
Under Trump, however, the traditional strengths of U.S. back-channel diplomacy – strategic planning, interagency coordination, and alliance management – are taking a back seat to the impulse to publicize, politicize, and dramatize half-formed policy proposals, all in pursuit of attention and short-term political gains rather than lasting outcomes. As a result, the United States is no longer advancing its ideals through “the patient accumulation of partial successes,” but instead lapses into Cold War-style threats and ideological hostility.
Of course, secrecy raises valid ethical concerns. Should negotiations be scrutinized by the public? Yes. But should real-time transparency take precedence over resolving crises that cost thousands of lives? Not necessarily. Effective leadership requires separating domestic political messaging from international bargaining. Barack Obama’s presidency illustrates this balance. While publicly championing policy openness, his most significant diplomatic achievements – the normalization of relations with Cuba, the Iran nuclear deal, and climate cooperation with China – were all results of secret negotiations.
Reviving back-channel diplomacy offers a way forward. It would restore confidence in a methodical and credible United States, and also spare the world much of the avoidable turbulence of the Trump era. The United States needs to show the rest of the world that diplomatic breakthroughs can be achieved without resorting to bombing or finger-pointing. More importantly, it would help the world relearn a simple but enduring lesson, especially among populist leaders including Donald Trump, that effective diplomacy often requires knowing when to stay silent.
Further Reading on E-International Relations
