Peace by performance: What it means when diplomacy becomes theater

The idea that the Armenia–Azerbaijan accord signing at the White House was “mostly theatre” falls apart the moment you stop treating speculation as fact. Yes, there was ceremony. Yes, there were cameras. But this wasn’t some hollow performance—it was a deliberate first step in a process that, in conflicts this deep and bloody, can’t even begin without visible, symbolic gestures.

The flag-placement theory is a prime example of reading too much into something that has a straightforward explanation. State events follow established diplomatic protocol for where flags go—based on symmetry, sightlines, and often sheer practicality. Turning that into a coded message about punishing Azerbaijan isn’t just reaching; it’s projecting motives that aren’t grounded in evidence. The same goes for the “floral symbolism” angle—sometimes a flower arrangement is just a flower arrangement.

Then there’s the Trump focus. Was he front and centre? Absolutely. Every U.S. president who’s hosted a major peace event has been. Carter was literally the physical link between Sadat and Begin at Camp David, Clinton pulled Rabin and Arafat into a three-way handshake on the White House lawn, and both moments are remembered as historic—not because of where the presidents stood, but because those staged moments gave political cover for the real negotiations to follow. This isn’t unique to Trump, and pretending it is ignores decades of precedent.

The original piece also cherry-picks history in a way that undercuts its own point. It points to Camp David as “media spectacle” while failing to acknowledge that Camp David led to a treaty that has held for over 40 years. That’s not optics outrunning substance—that’s optics enabling substance.

As for the gifts, commemorative coins and symbolic “keys” are standard fare in diplomacy. They’re not bargaining chips ready to be snatched back at the first disagreement. They’re goodwill gestures meant to humanise the interaction and set a positive tone. Reading them as veiled threats turns basic diplomatic courtesies into imaginary weapons.

And this idea that “it’s meaningless until it’s legally binding” completely misses how most peace processes work. They start with framework agreements or public declarations to build momentum and trust. The binding documents come later—if you can even get there. Without an initial, visible breakthrough, you never will.

The concerns about displaced Armenians, hostages, and occupied territory are absolutely legitimate. But they won’t be solved by sneering at the opening act of a process that might, just might, give both sides enough breathing room to address those issues. Optics aren’t the enemy of substance. In this case, they’re the precondition for it.

So strip away the overanalysis of flowers, flags, and camera angles, and here’s what’s left: two sworn enemies stood together, shook hands, and publicly committed to a different future. That’s not theatre—it’s history in the making. And history always starts with a first scene.