SAFETY IN NUMBERS

By inviting eight meaningful outside countries to its France summit, the G7 was insuring itself against Donald Trump—and a fraying U.S. alliance

- BY NEWSWEEK EDITORS JESCO DENZEL / BUNDESREGIERUNG / GETTY

SYMBOLIC Macron and Merkel address Bolton and Trump as Abe looks on, arms folded, at the 2018 67 summit in Charlevoix, Quebec.

YOU KNOW THE IMAGE. JUNE 9, 2018. Charlevoix, Quebec. German government photographer Jesco Denzel caught the scene that came to define Trump-era diplomacy: German Chancellor Angela Merkel leaning over the table, hands planted; French President Emmanuel Macron’s knuckles pressed into the wood; Japanese President Shinzo Abe with his arms folded; U.S. National Security Adviser John Bolton looming behind. And President Donald Trump—seated, arms crossed, chin tilted, apparently immune to the combined exasperation of the democratic world.

The picture went viral because it said what communiqués could not. The leaders of the world’s richest democracies were trying, by sheer posture, to keep an American president inside the system America had built. Hours later, Trump refused to endorse the joint statement from Air Force One, after the summit had already produced a communiqué pledging cooperation on trade, growth, security and democracy.

That was the old strategy: stare him down, appeal to the alliance, hope the table itself would discipline the man sitting at it. Eight years later, the G7 drew a more brutal conclusion. You cannot stare down a president who does not believe in the table. So you add more chairs.

The 2026 summit, held from June 15 to 17 in Évian-les-Bains, France, came with the usual alpine scenery, democratic grandeur—and defiance from Trump. “I’m the boss,” he joked as he arrived late for a meeting with fellow world leaders on the final day, before asking photographers who were about to be escorted out, “Would you like to stay for the meeting? It’s OK with me.”