Behold the spectacle of Davos, that high-altitude masquerade ball where the architects of our collective doom gather to sip sparkling water and discuss the 'sustainable' management of the fires they lit. Into this den of manicured fingernails and private jet itineraries strides Donald Trump, a man whose relationship with 'peace' has always been transactional at best and accidental at worst. His latest offering to the altar of global vanity? The 'Board of Peace.' It sounds like something a second-year MBA student would name their non-profit before inevitably pivoting to crypto-scams, yet here we are, watching the world’s 'leaders' scramble for a seat at the table.

The Board of Peace is not, as the naive might hope, a genuine attempt to end the butchery in the Middle East. It is a rebranding exercise. The 'Board'—note the corporate nomenclature—aims to oversee the US-brokered ceasefire in Gaza. But the genius, or the sheer gall, lies in the guest list. Trump has invited sixty nations, including Russia and China. It’s a masterclass in nihilistic inclusion. By inviting the very bogeymen he usually uses to scare his base into a frenzy, Trump is acknowledging the dark reality of the 21st century: peace isn't about justice or human rights; it’s about a multilateral agreement on whose turn it is to hold the knife.

Naturally, the Left is in a state of performative cardiac arrest. They weep for the 'international order' and the sanctity of the United Nations, a body that has spent the last several decades proving its primary function is to provide lucrative retirement packages for mid-level diplomats and issue sternly worded letters that are promptly used as kindling by every warlord from Kinshasa to Kyiv. They fear Trump is replacing the UN with a vanity project. They are right, of course, but they fail to see the irony: the UN itself is a vanity project for a bygone era. Replacing it with a 'Board' is simply the logical conclusion of our hyper-capitalist decay. We are moving from the 'Global Village' to the 'Global Boardroom,' where the dividends are paid in optics and the shareholders are autocrats.

The Right, meanwhile, is doing its usual impression of a trained seal, clapping frantically at the 'boldness' of the move. They see a 'Man of Action' bypassing the 'globalists,' ignoring the fact that the 'Board' is being pitched at the ultimate globalist retreat in Switzerland. They celebrate the inclusion of Russia and China as 'strategic genius' while simultaneously demanding we build a wall to keep out people who just want to pick strawberries. The cognitive dissonance is staggering, but then again, consistency has always been the first casualty of partisan devotion. To the MAGA faithful, Russia is an existential threat on Monday and a 'Peace Partner' on Tuesday, provided the right name is on the letterhead.

Israel has already signed up, a move as predictable as a sunrise. In the grim calculus of regional survival, having a seat on the board that decides the terms of your own ceasefire is a no-brainer. It gives the appearance of international legitimacy while ensuring that the actual levers of power remain firmly in the hands of those with the biggest guns. The 'Board' will likely spend its time debating the semantics of 'de-escalation' while the actual work of destruction continues whenever the cameras are turned off. It’s a peace process for the TikTok age: all vibes, no substance, and a lot of very expensive suits.

What we are witnessing is the final commodification of human tragedy. Peace is no longer a goal; it’s a product line. The 'Board of Peace' is the luxury SUV of geopolitics—it’s overpriced, unnecessary, and primarily designed to make the owner feel superior to the people stuck on the bus. Whether this monstrosity actually replaces the UN is irrelevant. The UN was already a ghost, haunted by its own irrelevance. Trump is simply moving the furniture around in the haunted house and charging admission. It is the IPO of diplomacy, where the currency is blood and the stock price is measured in cable news segments.

As these sixty nations prepare to join this absurdist theater, we, the spectators, are expected to choose a side. We are told to either embrace this 'new era of leadership' or mourn the 'death of diplomacy.' I choose neither. I choose to see it for what it is: a collection of grifters, tyrants, and narcissists trying to negotiate a ceasefire for a fire they are all currently stoking. The Board of Peace will have its meetings, its press releases, and its gilded stationary. It will have its summits in Davos and its 'breakthroughs' televised in high definition. But in the end, the only thing it will truly manage is the continued relevance of the people sitting around the table. Peace, in its true sense, remains an uninvited guest, wandering the cold streets of Davos, unable to afford the entry fee.