Colin Sheridan: Trump's 'honesty' is immediately cancelled out by his deviousness

Has the US President's hot-mic approach rendered the nuances of mutual respect between statesmen obsolete?

Taoiseach Micheál Martin during a meeting with US President Donald Trump in Washington DC.

Some years ago, in a misguided attempt to upskill, I completed a course in digital diplomacy. 

It was the early days of Zoom and Microsoft Teams, when video conferencing was novel to the point of almost being enjoyable. There was a certain thrill in dialling in and seeing strangers on the screen having the same technical issues as yourself. 

The exotic bookcases and curated backdrops and naughty pets that hopped around, intent on becoming the star of an otherwise routine show. Each ingredient gave a little oxygen to a new way of communicating.

Becoming conversant in the wink and elbow language of digital diplomacy was deemed necessary because, as I was working with a UN agency, it was increasingly apparent that the old way of doing things — the pressing of the flesh, so to speak, the literal reading of the room — was no longer enough from a networking and information gathering perspective. The days of meeting interlocutors in shady coffee shops in Damascus were not quite over but were certainly numbered. Or so we were being taught.

The course was only a week long and was going reasonably well until, on the last morning, an Australian colleague sitting in Cairo logged on to the morning session while on the phone to his wife with whom he was having a rather heated discussion about the pending installation of solar panels on the roof of their home. 

This situation, while initially comical, should well have become nothing more than a teaching moment for our instructors who, based in Geneva, had spent the week preaching caution regarding what they termed “dial in discipline.” Be sure, they told us repeatedly, to never enter a meeting without being fully in control of your vital virtual organs, namely your screen and microphone.

The usual panic ensued. Phone calls were made directly to his office, then his mobile phone, all to no avail

 Things got particularly bad when he began using some choice language to describe his Egyptian hosts to his wife, who, we had earlier learned, was having some issues with her sister about some borrowed money. 

Digital diplomats in training we all may well have been, but the nuclear fallout from that one hot-mic incident was anything but diplomatic. Our tutors in Geneva finally realised they had no option but to abort the entire session, so they pulled the plug. Literally. 

Oval Office meeting

The horror that all the rest of us felt when we realised we couldn't shut our colleague up endures to this day, and came to mind as I watched President Donald Trump conduct another masterclass in anti-diplomacy with our own Taoiseach this week. 

The man is a 200-pound hot mic, unable to be switched off by anybody no matter how physically close they sit to him. The expressions of Micheál Martin and others in the room betrayed direct evidence of excruciating discomfort. 

Like sitting beside a racist relative at a wedding, the Taoiseach's body language was a tough watch, just as Trump's words were a tough listen

 Sure, he was on Trump's turf, so pushback to the president's inaccurate ramblings would've likely ensured a Zelenskyy-style humiliation. 

Sadly, we will have to wait for the political memoir to learn what he really thought.

It begs the question, is diplomacy dead? Has Trump's hot-mic approach rendered the nuances of mutual respect between statesmen obsolete, and  — with a whole four more years of this to come — ensure we will see other leaders follow suit? 

True diplomacy, one could argue, happens in the dark, but Trump's approach risks even that. Social media has deregulated the curation of content. Spin doctors can spin all they want but, ironically with a proven liar like Trump, the truth has never been more transparent.

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There was further irony in An Taoiseach's behaviour, because recently he has been rather undiplomatically combative in the Dáil chamber, breaking new ground when it comes to throwing shade at the opposition. He was as gentle as a newborn lamb in the Oval Office by comparison.

Trump's truth tactic is refreshing in only that, like the Australian in Cairo, we are finding out what he really thinks. A rare trait for political figures. 

That his opinions are rarely based in fact and entirely self-serving means whatever good comes from his “honesty” is immediately and destructive cancelled out by his deviousness. If only there was a plug to pull out.