The Global Theatre: A Modern Reign of Power

 

This content was created after a long, loooong discussion with a couple of AI models. The first model was LlaMA, and the second was ChatGPT. I prompted "years from 1789" and then LlaMA told me that 344. I broke LlaMA inasmuch as it could not answer me why 344. But then I played along and basically I ended up combining 1681, 1789, 2025, Trump, Crimea, Putin, Louis XIV and even Charles...

This content was AI generated. All the crazy stuff and how the ideas were intermingled and narrated are on me. The text is a mix between LlaMA and ChatGPT. The image was created with Dreamscape.

In the early 21st century, the world finds itself under a new form of leadership, one that resembles the absolute monarchy of the 17th century. In this grand political theatre, Donald Trump steps onto the stage not as a traditional politician, but as a modern incarnation of the pomp and bravado of Louis XIV. Just as the French king famously declared, “L’État, c’est moi” (I am the State), Trump has mastered a similar approach in his speeches, declaring his dominance in not only domestic affairs but in shaping the global stage to his will.

Trump, like Louis XIV, sees the world as a stage where individual power and control are paramount. His speeches often blur the lines between personal achievement and national destiny, invoking a vision of American greatness that, at times, echoes the French monarchy's imperial ambitions. "I alone can fix it," he once proclaimed during his 2016 campaign, mirroring Louis XIV's unyielding sense of self-importance and his belief that only his divine right could guide France to glory. Trump’s rhetoric, much like Louis's court, is grandiose, with the future of the nation intricately tied to the figure of the ruler himself.

But Trump’s ambitions, unlike Louis XIV’s, reach beyond borders. They focus not on France’s splendour but on global influence. One of the key elements that sets his reign apart is his relationship with Vladimir Putin, the Russian president who has long held sway over the situation in Crimea. Trump, ever the dealmaker, views his alliance with Putin not as a mere political partnership but as a way to assert dominance on a global scale — akin to Louis XIV's carefully crafted alliances with powerful monarchs across Europe to extend his reach. Trump’s vision for Crimea, however, is no longer about conquest in the traditional sense. Instead, it is about strategic leverage. His rhetoric on Ukraine, notably the annexation of Crimea by Russia in 2014, is characterised by an almost romanticised view of a strongman’s approach to geopolitics.

In his speeches, Trump often admires Putin’s authoritarian control, even comparing him to the commanding figures of history, whose leadership transcended the mere mechanics of politics. "Putin's a genius," Trump has said, drawing parallels between his own rise and Putin's unyielding grip on Russian power. This admiration, in turn, shapes his approach to Ukraine and Crimea: a place where the lines of diplomacy and military might are drawn not by international law, but by the personal whims of powerful men. The message: might makes right, a doctrine that harkens back to the absolutism of Louis XIV's reign. Like Louis's pursuit of supremacy, Trump’s rhetoric and actions around Crimea suggest an understanding of power where borders, treaties, and even sovereignty are flexible — contingent on what best serves the individual leader's vision.

Meanwhile, the UK, under King Charles — not Charles I, who was overthrown centuries ago, but the modern-day monarch now navigating a fractured Brexit-era landscape — serves as an enigmatic reference point. Charles, much like the British monarchy, remains a distant figure in the political arena, wielding little real power compared to the storm of figures like Trump. But as a symbol, Charles represents the remnants of a previous age of power: one where authority was unquestioned and the world itself was an extension of imperial will. In the modern geopolitical mess, Charles stands as an echo of what once was — a reminder that even the most royal of bloodlines can be diluted by the forceful tides of modern politics.

Ultimately, the modern world bears witness to the play between absolutism and democracy. Just as Louis XIV’s reign was defined by the centralisation of power in a singular, unchallenged authority, Trump’s appeal to the American electorate draws on the same allure of an individual leader who promises to restore order in a world that seems increasingly fractured. Yet, the lesson of history remains: just as Louis XIV’s lavish court was built on an unsustainable foundation of extravagant spending and internal divisions, so too may the promises of modern strongmen crumble under the weight of their own contradictions.

As Russia continues its aggressive stance on Crimea, and Trump’s influence on global politics ebbs and flows, the stage is set for a new act — one where power and its display will always be at the centre of the performance, regardless of whether the players are kings, presidents, or the sovereign nations themselves.