Diplomacy as Stagecraft: Ambush, Performance, and the Ethics of the Trump–Zelenskyy Encounter

In April 1536, as Henry VIII, King of England, sought international recognition for his marriage to Anne Boleyn, his court staged what would become a carefully choreographed diplomatic trap. Eustace Chapuys, the Imperial ambassador representing Emperor Charles V—nephew of Catherine of Aragon, Henry’s estranged first wife—was invited to attend Easter mass at court. Positioned along Anne Boleyn’s ceremonial route, Chapuys was subtly maneuvered into bowing as she passed.¹ Though he later insisted the gesture was a matter of polite custom, not political recognition, Henry and his ministers immediately seized on the moment, declaring it proof that the Emperor’s representative had acknowledged Anne as queen. This routine act of courtly etiquette was recast as a symbolic concession, giving the appearance of international endorsement for a marriage that remained deeply contested in Europe.

Almost five centuries later, on February 28, 2025, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy found himself drawn into a similarly intense, symbolic performance—this time in the Oval Office of the White House. Expecting to finalize a minerals agreement vital to Ukraine’s war economy, Zelenskyy instead found himself drawn into an unexpectedly confrontational diplomatic encounter. Over the course of fifty minutes in the Oval Office—ten of them dominated by visible and escalating disagreement—he was rebuked by President Donald Trump, interrupted by Vice President JD Vance, and questioned by a partisan journalist about his choice of attire.² The anticipated signing ceremony was abandoned, prepared meals left untouched, and the press was ushered out as the meeting dissolved into diplomatic rupture.

A revealing parallel can be drawn here. Like Chapuys, Zelenskyy entered a space where the diplomatic terms had been redefined without notice—his presence and reactions becoming part of a pre-scripted narrative. Yet the difference is crucial: whereas Chapuys was ensnared in ritualized symbolism, Zelenskyy faced direct confrontation and verbal coercion, broadcast in real time to a global audience. Henry VIII wielded ceremonial ambiguity to simulate recognition; President Trump deployed media spectacle and rhetorical dominance to reshape political meaning on the spot. In both cases, the ethical breach lay in the symbolic manipulation of diplomatic settings for strategic performance. Yet the Trump case illustrates a contemporary evolution: from choreographed court ritual to curated political theater, where the diplomatic script is no longer concealed—it is written, directed, and broadcast in plain sight.

This shift raises serious ethical concerns. Performance in diplomacy is not inherently problematic. Ritual and symbolism have long served to facilitate recognition, reinforce legitimacy, and frame negotiation. But diplomacy becomes ethically compromised when performance ceases to serve process—when gestures are forced, optics are manipulated, and the stage is constructed not for mutual understanding but for symbolic dominance. As James Der Derian reminds us, diplomacy is not merely a contest of power, but a practice rooted in the mediation of estrangement between political entities—conducted through systems of thought, law, and, ultimately, ethics.³ When that mediation gives way to spectacle—and estrangement is not managed but intensified—diplomacy forfeits its normative purpose and risks becoming a tool of strategic imposition rather than mutual engagement. The Trump–Zelenskyy encounter reveals this shift with unsettling clarity. It is not simply an instance of failed diplomacy, but a case study in the systematic erosion of the ethical norms that sustain diplomatic engagement.

This essay argues that the Trump–Zelenskyy Oval Office meeting offers a case study in “ambush diplomacy”—a mode of diplomatic engagement in which one party exploits the form and expectations of a meeting to place the other in a position of symbolic vulnerability or reputational disadvantage. Ambush diplomacy occurs when the setting of a bilateral encounter is exploited to produce performative asymmetry: the weaker party is drawn into a redefined scenario, often without warning, and is forced to perform under conditions designed to extract political gain rather than reach diplomatic resolution. To understand the full ethical implications of this dynamic, this essay examines five core breaches of diplomatic norms during the Trump–Zelenskyy encounter—each breach offering insight into how form was weaponized against function and how theater displaced trust-building.

Five Ethical Breaches

The Trump–Zelenskyy encounter laid bare five distinct ethical failures. These were not isolated misjudgments, but symptoms of a wider shift in the diplomatic landscape: one in which image increasingly supersedes intent, and the choreography of confrontation displaces the architecture of dialogue. Each breach speaks to a dimension of diplomacy that was compromised—not incidentally, but by design.

First, the encounter breached the norm of good-faith negotiation between sovereign states—the expectation that diplomatic dialogue proceeds on procedural fairness, and a shared commitment to engage constructively, even amid disagreement. In this case, diplomacy as process gave way to diplomacy as theater. The Oval Office, a space synonymous with presidential authority and formal statecraft, was transformed into a stage for confrontation. For a sustained and intense stretch of the meeting, Zelenskyy was subjected to a tone that rapidly escalated. Vance interrupted to challenge Ukraine’s commitment to peace and went so far as to chastise Zelenskyy for not expressing sufficient gratitude to President Trump—an implicit rebuke that reframed the encounter not as dialogue between partners, but as an opportunity to enforce deference. Trump then followed with a declaration that echoed beyond the room: “You don’t have the cards right now… You’re gambling with the lives of millions of people. You're gambling with World War Three.”⁴ The minerals deal, set to be signed that day in the East Room, was abruptly cancelled. Even before the meeting unravelled, the deal itself bore the logic of economic coercion—treating Ukraine’s wartime position as an opportunity for resource extraction and casting doubt on the integrity of Western unity in the face of Russian aggression. A structured diplomatic engagement devolved into public reprimand—undermining the principle that diplomacy is grounded in procedural fairness and mutual respect, regardless of asymmetry.

Second, the meeting violated the norm of representational integrity—the expectation that diplomats can speak and be received on their own terms, without having their meaning strategically distorted. Zelenskyy entered the meeting in good faith, wearing military dress—a visual expression of his country’s wartime resilience—unaware that the tone and format of the engagement had been redefined in advance. During the encounter, a partisan journalist asked why he was not wearing a suit. Zelenskyy’s measured reply—“I will wear a costume after this war is finished”⁵—was subsequently excerpted in partisan media and reframed as disrespectful. Like Chapuys’s unintended bow, a routine gesture was stripped of its intended meaning and retrofitted with new symbolic weight. Zelenskyy’s presence and words were thus recast into meanings they were never intended to convey. In doing so, the encounter exemplified how diplomatic performance, when divorced from deliberative context, can be re-engineered into an instrument of narrative control.

Third, the episode breached the norm of sovereign parity, the principle that—even within asymmetrical relationships—diplomacy should maintain a baseline of mutual dignity and recognition. Here, the asymmetry of the encounter was not merely structural—it was theatricalized. The United States controlled the setting, the pace, the media, and the narrative. Zelenskyy, by contrast, was placed in a reactive posture. His delegation appeared visibly unsettled; his ambassador reportedly placed her head in her hands. When Ukrainian officials requested to continue talks after the media had exited, they were told by National Security Advisor Mike Waltz: “Time is not on your side… U.S. aid and the taxpayers’ tolerance is not unlimited."⁶ This was not a conversation among equals; it was a public lesson in hierarchy. And therein lies the ethical breach: diplomacy routinely operates within asymmetries, but it does so by managing them through civility, discretion, and reciprocal recognition. When hierarchy is not merely present but performed—when it becomes the message rather than the context—it shifts from a structural reality to a rhetorical weapon. The performance conveyed a clear expectation: Ukraine was to embody submission, not sovereignty.

Fourth, the meeting disregarded the norm of diplomatic discretion—the principle that diplomacy requires protected space to manage differences without the distortions of publicity. Public engagements in the Oval Office are routine, and visibility—when employed responsibly—can affirm transparency, demonstrate unity, or allow for principled disagreement. Indeed, that same week, French President Emmanuel Macron met with President Trump in a similarly visible setting, as did the British Prime Minister, Keir Starmer, a few days later. In both cases, the media were present, the tone was firm but respectful, and the visibility served to support, not undermine, the diplomatic process. What made the Zelenskyy meeting ethically problematic was not its publicity per se, but the purpose and orchestration of that publicity. Visibility was not used to frame or reinforce diplomatic engagement—it was used to replace it. The encounter was not merely public; it was performative. It denied Zelenskyy the protected ambiguity that diplomacy often requires to manage disagreement and preserve the possibility of future dialogue. When the public dimension of diplomacy is weaponized to shame, disempower, or control, the ethic of discretion is not simply neglected—it is inverted. Performance triumphed over process.

Finally, the episode breached the norm of diplomatic autonomy—the understanding that diplomatic encounters are oriented toward mutual resolution and shielded from short-term domestic political agendas. The encounter was not primarily directed at Zelenskyy at all. Its intended audience was domestic. Every element of the exchange—Trump’s confrontational tone, Vance’s strategically timed interjection, the pointed question from a partisan journalist—projected a narrative of American strength and transactional skepticism toward foreign commitments. Within hours, Republican allies were publicly celebrating the American president’s assertiveness, while Zelenskyy’s team scrambled to contain the diplomatic fallout. The encounter functioned less as a bilateral engagement than as a campaign vignette: a moment of political theater designed not to negotiate, but to posture. In this, the autonomy of diplomacy was not merely compromised—it was co-opted, transformed into a vehicle for domestic spectacle. The ethical harm is clear: when diplomacy is instrumentalized to score points at home, it ceases to be a space for principled negotiation and becomes a stage for partisan affirmation. The cost is borne not only by the visiting leader, but by the credibility of the diplomatic institution itself.

Reclaiming Diplomacy

Political theater in diplomacy is not, in itself, ethically suspect. States have long relied on symbolism to shape meaning and manage perception. Rituals, pageantry, and ceremonial choreography have always had their place in diplomatic practice—from the protocols of the Congress of Vienna to the carefully orchestrated photo-ops of modern summits. When used judiciously, performance can elevate diplomacy, signaling mutual respect, recognition, and shared intent. But when performance displaces process—when spectacle is used not to frame dialogue but to distort, dominate, or delegitimize—the ethical architecture of diplomacy begins to erode. Theater becomes a substitute for negotiation, spectacle replaces deliberation, and the logic of coercion overtakes the possibility of consent. In such moments, diplomacy ceases to serve its purpose as a space for managing difference and begins instead to serve the optics of performative dominance.

Both the Chapuys incident and the Zelenskyy meeting illustrate this danger. In each case, performance displaced process, and theater replaced trust. The ethical task, then, is not to expunge performance from diplomacy, but to ensure that it continues to serve its normative purpose: to serve principled, reciprocal engagement—even, and especially, under conditions of inequality and strain. Performance is legitimate when it enhances clarity, mutual recognition, and the space for constructive disagreement. It becomes ethically corrosive when deployed to manufacture consent, stage submission, or humiliate for political effect. The Trump–Zelenskyy encounter thus stands as a warning: it reveals how easily performative power can overwrite procedural norms, particularly when the weaker party lacks the leverage to resist—especially in a context like Ukraine’s, where reliance on U.S. support remains significant, particularly in areas where European partners are not yet equipped to provide comparable military assistance.⁷ It also exposes how domestic political incentives can hijack the logic of diplomacy—transforming it from a tool of international order into an instrument of political affirmation. And, as with Henry VIII’s calculated repurposing of Chapuys’s bow, it reminds us that when theater overtakes trust, diplomacy becomes less an instrument for managing difference than a performance of power.

At the heart of this pattern is what might be called ambush diplomacy—a tactic in which the outward forms of diplomacy are maintained, only to be re-scripted to produce reputational vulnerability. Ambush diplomacy is not negotiation; it is performance at the expense of parity, symbolism retooled to extract submission rather than enable mutual recognition. Recognizing and resisting this tendency is essential if diplomacy is to remain not merely visible, but viable.

—Corneliu Bjola

Corneliu Bjola is Professor of Digital Diplomacy at the University of Oxford and head of the Oxford Digital Diplomacy Research Group; he also serves as a Faculty Fellow at the Center on Public Diplomacy at USC and a professorial lecturer at the Diplomatic Academy of Vienna. His most recent publication is the Oxford Handbook of Digital Diplomacy (2024, co-editor), offering a comprehensive overview of the theory, practice, and future of digital diplomacy.