At the heart of the Trump administration’s diplomacy in West Asia and Ukraine lies a troubling question: where do US national interests end and the private interests of those conducting its diplomacy begin?
Investigative journalist Matthew Cole, in Princes and Thieves, alleges that Jared Kushner, while serving as Trump’s senior adviser, had access to secret accounts associated with Saudi and Emirati interests containing approximately $2 billion. Some funds allegedly supported covert regional operations, while others were reportedly intended for Kushner’s personal benefit.
Kushner categorically denies these allegations, which remain unproven and unsubstantiated. Can US diplomacy command international confidence while such serious questions about potential conflicts of interest remain unresolved?
Consider Iran.
Whatever one thinks of Tehran’s leadership, its negotiators are neither politically naive nor strategically inexperienced. Hardened by decades of sanctions, intelligence operations, and confrontations with successive US administrations, they understand leverage, patience, and national interest.
Why would they be intimidated by someone whose greatest diplomatic advantage is access to his father-in-law? And why would Russian negotiators, whose intelligence establishments have spent generations studying US vulnerabilities, overlook the possible intersection of personal relationships, commercial interests, and presidential ambitions?
This does not establish that Kushner lacks negotiating ability or that his present diplomatic activities are compromised. But proximity to power is no substitute for strategic judgment, and presidential access does not automatically confer diplomatic credibility.
The larger irony is extraordinary.
In early March, Washington proclaimed military victory over Iran. Yet here we are, at the end of October, with the US preparing for another confrontation with the country it supposedly defeated.
If the war was won, why must it be fought again? If deterrence was restored, why another military buildup? And if diplomacy is succeeding, why does the region remain on the brink of war?
These questions expose the danger of confusing military destruction with strategic victory, personal relationships with diplomacy, and transactional dealmaking with sustainable peace.
Iran has demonstrated resilience without necessarily abandoning its strategic objectives. Neither Tehran nor Moscow is likely to mistake presidential bravado for negotiating leverage. Both understand that wars are not won simply by inflicting the greatest destruction; they are won by achieving political objectives.
For smaller nations, including those of us in the Pasifika, the lesson is equally important.
We must never confuse the spectacle of great-power diplomacy with its substance. Issues negotiated around personal ambition and private interests risk becoming a temporary bargain.
When such bargains collapse, it is we who bear the consequences.
The measure of a peace negotiator is not access to the President or to billionaires, but the credibility, judgment, and strategic understanding required to deliver lasting peace.
And so the most disturbing question remains: Are we witnessing diplomacy intended to prevent another war, or diplomacy preparing the political justification for one?
And if peace becomes a family business, whose interests are ultimately being served?
