Maxime Prévot — once a small-town mayor and now, by some bureaucratic miracle, Belgium’s foreign minister — carries himself like a man convinced that the fate of nations hinges on the perfect choice of a morally neutral adjective. In his world, diplomacy consists of three neatly packaged components: a carefully worded statement, a slightly furrowed brow, and a tweet sent at carefully calibrated intervals — 8:03 a.m., 12:17 p.m., 6:42 p.m. — as though the planet itself paused to await his digital benediction between its morning coffee and evening wine. He speaks, tweets, and preens as if the performance itself were substance, as if indignation had become a legitimate tool of statecraft.
Maxime Prévot: Diplomacy in Belgian Foam or…
Maxime Prévot — once a small-town mayor and now, by some bureaucratic miracle, Belgium’s foreign minister — carries himself like a man convinced that the fate of nations hinges on the perfect choice of a morally neutral adjective. In his world, diplomacy consists of three neatly packaged components: a carefully worded statement, a slightly furrowed brow, and a tweet sent at carefully calibrated intervals — 8:03 a.m., 12:17 p.m., 6:42 p.m. — as though the planet itself paused to await his digital benediction between its morning coffee and evening wine. He speaks, tweets, and preens as if the performance itself were substance, as if indignation had become a legitimate tool of statecraft.