There is negotiation as taught in law school — offer, counter-offer, consideration, good faith.
And then there is negotiation as practiced by Donald Trump — open with an airstrike, tweet in all caps, and call it leverage.
Welcome to 2020s diplomacy, where the pre-action protocol reads less like the Vienna Convention and more like a deleted scene from The Silence of the Lambs. Once you’ve tasted raw power, apparently, it pairs well with everything.
Chapter One: If You Don’t Like the Deal, Tear It Up
The Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action was negotiated painstakingly under Barack Obama. Inspectors. Timelines. Centrifuges counted like rosary beads. Diplomats spoke in hushed tones.
Trump reviewed it and decided it lacked one crucial ingredient: his name.
So he withdrew.
The theory was simple: scrap the multilateral framework, apply “maximum pressure,” and wait for Tehran to crawl back with a shinier, Trump-branded document. Instead, the centrifuges spun again and the Middle East began humming ominously.
Negotiation, in this doctrine, is what happens after you knock over the table.
Chapter Two: Soleimani and the Message in a Missile
In January 2020, Qasem Soleimani was killed in a U.S. drone strike near Baghdad airport.
The world held its breath.
Iran responded with calibrated missile strikes. No regional conflagration followed. Trump declared deterrence restored. His supporters called it strength. His critics called it roulette with a revolver that had more than one bullet loaded.
But a pattern emerged: if you want to negotiate, begin with a demonstration.
Chapter Three: Venezuela — Regime Change, Express Delivery
When Washington alleged that Nicolás Maduro presided over a narco-state exporting poison northward, diplomacy did not involve envoys and shuttle talks.
It involved force.
Maduro was seized and transported to face U.S. charges. Latin America blinked. The United Nations coughed politely into its rulebook. Sovereignty, once a sacred cow, looked suddenly like it had wandered into a Texas barbecue.
This was not gunboat diplomacy.
It was drone-age diplomacy.
Chapter Four: Nigeria, Christmas, and the Language of Airstrikes
On Christmas Day 2025, U.S. strikes hit militant targets in north-west Nigeria. Washington framed it as counter-terrorism. The optics — bombs on 25 December — were biblical in their symbolism.
Nigeria’s security crises are layered: insurgency, banditry, ethno-religious tension, governance deficits. They do not lend themselves to slogans. Yet in Trump’s lexicon, complexity is often flattened into morality play.
Negotiation, here, is conducted with a JDAM.
Chapter Five: Gaza — Real Estate as Foreign Policy
Then there is Gaza.
In Trumpian imagination, conflict zones are not just humanitarian catastrophes; they are redevelopment opportunities. Where others see rubble, he sees branding. Where others see diplomacy, he sees licensing rights.
Foreign policy, in this framing, resembles a prospectus. Stability becomes a commercial asset class.
You begin to suspect that the ultimate multilateral institution is not the UN, but the Trump Organization.
The Psychology of Unfiltered Power
There is a moment in The Silence of the Lambs where Hannibal Lecter describes appetite with unnerving calm. Power works like that. Once exercised without constraint, it has a taste.
Congress objects? That’s noise.
Allies hesitate? They’ll fall in line.
International law frowns? Laws are for smaller nations.
Trump’s critics argue that this is not negotiation but domination theatre — a belief that unpredictability is strategy and shock is leverage. His admirers call it strength unshackled by bureaucratic timidity.
Both may be correct.
Six Bankruptcies and One Superpower
Trump survived six corporate bankruptcies and emerged convinced that collapse is merely a prelude to re-branding. The concern, of course, is that Chapter 11 works differently when the asset in question is global stability.
You can restructure a casino.
You cannot restructure a war.
The Six-Foot Spoon Doctrine
Diplomacy used to be about quiet dinners and careful phrasing. Now, many leaders approach Washington as one might approach a lion enclosure: cautiously, and preferably with reinforced glass.
The old proverb advises dining with the devil using a long spoon.
With Trump, six feet may not be enough.
Conclusion: Is the World Safer?
Has this muscular, unilateral style made America stronger? Or merely louder?
Deterrence achieved through spectacle is impressive — until spectacle becomes habit. When negotiation always follows force, adversaries adapt. Trust erodes. Alliances fray. The superpower looks less like an anchor and more like a weather event.
The tragedy — and the comedy — of the moment is that Trump genuinely believes this is the ultimate art of negotiation.
Open with dominance. Close with applause.
And if the room is empty?
Declare victory anyway.
Centre for Nigeria Progress 