The air in Davos is notoriously thin, a meteorological condition that perfectly complements the intellectual weight of its annual attendees. Into this vacuum of high-altitude virtue signaling steps the ultimate disruptor, Donald Trump, wielding a concept so audacious it borders on the metaphysical: the ‘Board of Peace.’ It is a title that sounds less like a diplomatic initiative and more like a mid-tier insurance conglomerate or perhaps a particularly dull committee in a dystopian young adult novel. Yet, here we are, watching the supposed architects of the global order scramble to react to a gambit that treats international stability as if it were a struggling golf resort in need of a urgent rebrand.

The sheer nomenclature is a masterclass in irony. A ‘Board.’ One can almost see the mahogany table, the expensive bottled water, and the inevitable subpoenas. In the Trumpian universe, peace is not a state of being or the absence of conflict; it is a transactional asset to be managed by a select group of directors. The invitations have been dispatched, landing on the desks of world leaders like golden tickets to a chocolate factory where the chocolate is made of trade tariffs and the Oompa-Loompas are all career diplomats having quiet, professional nervous breakdowns in the broom closets of the UN.

The reactions, as reported, have been a delightful study in the pathology of power. We see the ‘eager assent’ from those who recognize the direction of the wind and have decided to set sail before the gale force hits. These are the pragmatists of the new world, the ones who understand that in a theater of the absurd, it is better to be on stage than in the splash zone. They embrace the ‘Board’ with the hollow enthusiasm of a corporate vice president attending a mandatory team-building retreat in the Catskills. For them, peace is whatever the most powerful person in the room says it is, provided there is a favorable trade deal attached to the fine print.

Then there are the ‘hedgers,’ the practitioners of the ‘wait-and-see’ approach. This is the hallmark of the European bureaucratic machine—a machine I have observed for decades with a mixture of pity and profound boredom. These leaders are currently engaged in a frantic dance of diplomatic ambiguity. To join the Board is to validate a man they spent years painting as the antichrist of multilateralism; to refuse is to risk being left outside the tent when the new global architecture is being sketched on the back of a cocktail napkin. Their bewilderment is the most honest thing about this entire spectacle. It is the look of a person who has spent their entire life learning the intricate rules of chess, only to realize their opponent is playing a high-stakes, unhinged game of Hungry Hungry Hippos.

What we are witnessing is the final collapse of the illusion that international relations are governed by principles, norms, or anything remotely resembling a shared human interest. The ‘Board of Peace’ is the logical conclusion of a century of hollow rhetoric. If the League of Nations was a tragic dream and the United Nations is a bloated hallucination, then Trump’s Board is the gritty reboot nobody asked for but everyone will nonetheless watch. It strips away the pretense of the ‘global order’ and replaces it with the cold, hard logic of the boardroom. In this new reality, peace is not earned through long-term cooperation or the slow building of trust; it is brokered in a series of frantic, one-on-one meetings where the threat of exclusion is the primary incentive.

The irony, of course, is that Davos was built for exactly this kind of nonsense. It is a place where the world’s problems are purportedly solved over canapés and then promptly forgotten as soon as the private jets clear the tarmac. Trump has simply removed the mask. He has taken the quiet, backroom dealings of the global elite and turned them into a reality television pilot. By framing peace as a ‘Board’ matter, he has successfully commodified the very idea of global stability. One wonders if there will be quarterly earnings reports on the reduction of regional tensions, or if members will be fired for failing to meet their ‘tranquility targets.’

As an observer of this slow-motion car crash we call history, I find a certain grim satisfaction in the chaos. The ‘bewildered world leaders’ are finally being forced to confront the reality that their carefully curated systems of governance are nothing more than paper walls. The ‘Board of Peace’ is not the cause of the global order's demise; it is its autopsy. We are watching the transition from a world of diplomats to a world of directors, where the only thing that matters is who gets a seat at the table and who is left to settle the bill. It is cynical, it is transactional, and it is utterly devoid of soul. In other words, it is perfectly suited for our times.