Welcome to Davos, where the air is thin and the egos are thick. It is a place where the world’s richest people fly in private jets to talk about how the rest of us should ride bicycles to save the planet. But this year, the comedy reached a new peak. Before heading home, Donald Trump decided to give the world one last gift: a piece of paper. He called it the 'Board of Peace.' It is his new international oversight body. If that name sounds like something from a bad cartoon, that is because it is.

I have watched these men for a long time. I have seen them try to fix the world with meetings and fancy pens. It never works. This time was even more absurd. Trump stood there, ready to sign a charter that is supposed to watch over the globe. But there was a small problem. Most of the people who were supposed to be there didn't show up. Usually, when the President of the United States calls a meeting, people scramble to find a chair. This time, the room had a lot of empty space. Key allies stayed away. Maybe they had better things to do. Or maybe they have finally realized that signing a 'Peace' document with a man who views life as a boxing match is a bit silly.

The group that did show up was a strange collection of characters. We had the US President, of course. Then there was Volodymyr Zelensky, a man who is actually in a war and probably just wanted to know where the help was. And then there was Elon Musk. Why was the man who sells cars and tweets all day at a peace signing? Because in the modern world, being a billionaire means you get to pretend you are a diplomat. It was a trio that felt less like a group of leaders and more like a group of people stuck in an elevator together.

This 'Board of Peace' is meant to provide oversight. Think about that word for a second. In politics, oversight usually means looking at something until you get bored and then looking away when things get messy. They want to manage the world’s problems from a mountain in Switzerland. It is the ultimate intellectual joke. They think that by putting their names on a gold-rimmed document, the chaos of the world will simply stop and behave itself. It is a very fancy way of doing absolutely nothing.

I find a special kind of joy in watching these bureaucratic rituals fail. They spent months planning this. They probably spent thousands of dollars on the chairs and the flowers. And yet, the big allies—the ones who actually run things in Europe—decided to skip the party. It is like throwing a wedding and having the bride’s family stay at home because they don’t like the groom. It sends a message. The message is that nobody is taking the 'Board of Peace' seriously except the people holding the pens.

Historically, we have seen this before. Every time a leader feels their power slipping or their time running out, they try to build a monument. Some build statues. This group builds 'Boards.' They want to be remembered as the ones who solved the puzzle of human conflict. But peace is not something you get from an 'oversight body.' Peace is what happens when people stop trying to control everything from thirty thousand feet in the air.

The irony is almost too much to handle. You have a man who loves a good fight, a man who is currently in the biggest fight of his life, and a man who fights with strangers on the internet, all signing a paper about peace. If I were writing a play about the end of the world, I couldn't come up with a better scene. It is a tragicomic mess.

As Trump leaves Davos, he leaves behind this new charter. It will likely sit in a drawer somewhere, gathering dust alongside all the other charters signed by important men in suits. The world will keep turning, the wars will keep going, and the 'Board of Peace' will do exactly what it was designed to do: make a few people feel important for an afternoon while the rest of us watch from below, wondering how we ever let things get this ridiculous. It is not just incompetence; it is a masterpiece of theater. And the play, sadly, is far from over.