The Summit as Literature: "Face-to-Face is Harmful"

The run-up to the proposed summit between Donald Trump and Kim Jong-Un has been

dramatic, to say the least. Invitations have been issued, insults traded, compliments paid, and

envoys exchanged. Yet as the fateful day for a possible meeting of the two leaders draws near,

we should consider how the encounter will be framed and shaped by those who read and write

it. How can we understand the summit as a form of literature?

Both leaders seem to see themselves as fictional characters, playing in some drama of their

own composition. Donald Trump sees reality through the distorting lens of television. His

preferred character is the wounded, outraged martyr, rallying his troops for one more defense

of the fatherland. We know that Kim Jong-Un spent his boyhood obsessed with Mickey Mouse,

even going so far as to appear on television surrounded by Disney characters. His character is

the clever, diminutive hero who outwits the big guys.

When dealing with people who see themselves as fictions, it is a mistake to forget that they are

fictions. The media has been making this mistake with Trump since his election, by expecting

him to behave “normally.” He is a drama queen. His obviously theatrical gestures, for all of

their meanness and real-world impact, are a form of theater. As such, they can be understood

according to the conventions of literature, which can empower or disempower the ambitious
no matter how great their narcissism. So, what can fiction teach us about such meetings?

Literary history offers many examples of diplomatic encounters between powerful men. In

Homer's Iliad, the cagey Odysseus tries to negotiate peace with the petulant Achilles, only to be

sent packing, with Achilles ending up more angry than when he started. This is the world of

epic, and many later epics feature similar scenes of failed negotiation. Homer certainly offers

one template for the current situation, with the deal-maker Odysseus/Trump going up against

the wrathful Rocket Man, Kim. Shakespeare is more circumspect than Homer. His Henry
V ends with the English king in parley with French, trying to make peace. But the Bard wisely

leaves the negotiation off stage. He spotlights the personal side of things, depicting Henry

wooing the French princess Catherine. (Here we can think of Mr. Kim's sister Kim Yo-Jong,

charming the crowd at the Olympics, or maybe Ivanka, bouncing some cute Korean kid on her

knee). A few years after Shakespeare, the French dramatist Corneille showed two noble

Romans, Pompey and the rebel leader Sertorius, meeting in Spain, trying to make peace by

debating national identity politics (a hot topic today; from the Korean Peninsula to the Iberian

one). It doesn't end well; Sertorius refuses to give in to Roman demands and gets knifed by one

of his envious underlings (let's not draw the parallels here).

Corneille's contemporaries were extremely suspicious of any face to face meetings between

leaders. They are too volatile. Such things should be left to ambassadors and ministers. The

Spanish philosopher Saavedra Fajardo offered a Latin formula, Praesentia Nocet, "Face-to-Face

is Harmful," meaning that princes should never be left alone together. He added that families

and "inner circles" are part of the problem, since they see every meeting as a kind of duel and

urge the principals toward conflict, instead of peace. They had good cause for

concern. Shakespeare's contemporary Montaigne recounts that the Holy Roman Emperor

Charles V once screamed at the French ambassadors, insulted their king, and challenged him to

single combat. Montaigne ironically adds that the ambassadors were wise not to report this
incident to their master, reserving it for their memoirs. Charles may have been taking his cue

from Virgil's poem, the Aeneid, which ends with a showdown between the hero Aeneas and his

rival Turnus. High Noon gives us a Hollywood version of the same scene.

Thus it matters very much how the meeting between Trump and Kim is framed. Is it epic?

Tragedy? Farce? Western? The care with which poets and dramatists have framed diplomatic

negotiations--deflecting confrontation, defusing disagreement into philosophical debate, and

so on--suggests the need for an appropriate literary form for this important
meeting. Doubtless Trump will try to cast himself as the lone gunman or card sharp in a

Western, the guy who can outwit and out shoot his rival. Yet the media can play its own role

here, too, shaping the meeting as it takes place. The damage can be lessened or heightened

according to the literary genre that gives it shape. Moliere's play The Bourgeois

Gentleman ends with a "ballet of nations," in which the diplomats sing in nonsense rhyme as

they bounce about the stage, declaring how delighted they are. Maybe that's our best hope.