Picture this: Two nations finally decide to end their conflict. The cameras flash. But instead of the iconic blue UN flag in the background, it’s usually the Stars and Stripes, with an American president ready to claim credit for peace. Why do we keep seeing this scene replay? The answer lies in something deeply human – our desire to leave a mark on history. US presidents, like all of us, want to be remembered. And what better legacy than being the architect of peace?
Take Jimmy Carter’s triumph with the Camp David Accords in 1978. Here was a president bringing together Egypt and Israel – longtime enemies – to shake hands. Yes, it brought peace, but it also brought Carter a Nobel Prize and a permanent place in history books. Not bad for a peanut farmer from Georgia. Then there was Clinton’s involvement in the 1993 Oslo Accords, 1994 Israel-Jordan Peace Treaty, 1995 Dayton Accords and 1999 Kargil War between India and Pakistan.
As fighting erupted in Kashmir, Clinton intervened to broker a ceasefire. India and Pakistan, nuclear-armed neighbors, could have negotiated bilaterally. Yet, Clinton’s domestic approval ratings were faltering, and his role as a peacemaker helped shift focus from internal scandals. The US president’s intervention was as much about optics as it was about resolving the conflict.
When crisis strikes, who does the world call? Not the UN’s headquarters in New York, but the White House in Washington.
This isn’t just an American thing anymore. Look at China’s recent peace-making between Saudi Arabia and Iran. Beijing essentially said, “Hey, we can play this game too!” It’s like watching a new player join a long-running card game – same rules, different faces at the table. Think about it: When crisis strikes, who does the world call? Not the UN’s headquarters in New York, but the White House in Washington. It’s not because the UN lacks capability – it’s because presidents can offer carrots and sticks that the UN simply can’t. Want military protection? Economic aid? Trade deals? A US president can make those promises. The UN? They’ll need to form a committee first. The pattern keeps repeating. The 2020 Abraham Accords under Trump? Obama’s Iran Nuclear Deal? Same story. Even George W. Bush’s Road Map for Peace followed this script. Each president seems to think: “This could be my moment, my Chapter in history.”
And right now? Same script, a different cast. As Gaza burns, it’s Biden, not the UN, pushing for peace. With his presidency winding down, there’s already buzz about Trump picking up the diplomatic baton in his second term. Meanwhile, the UN – our supposed global peacekeeper – watches from the sidelines. It’s like building a state-of-the-art kitchen but eating takeout every night.
Political scientists have fancy terms for this – they call it neorealism when talking about how countries behave, and classical realism when explaining why leaders act the way they do. But strip away the academic jargon, and you’re left with something simple: Countries want to survive and thrive, and leaders want to be remembered.
So, what’s the cost of this personal glory-seeking? While presidents get their names in history books and nations flex their diplomatic muscles, we miss chances to build stronger global institutions. Every time super/major powers broker peace alone, it’s another missed opportunity to strengthen the UN. But maybe that’s just human nature.
As long as leaders dream of legacy and nations chase power, peace agreements will probably keep happening under national flags rather than international ones.
It’s not ideal, but it’s deeply, fundamentally human. The real question isn’t whether this pattern will change – it’s whether the peace these agreements bring can last without stronger international institutions backing them up. That’s something worth thinking about the next time we see a president smiling for the cameras at a peace signing ceremony.
The writer is a student of Strategic Studies at National Defence University, Islamabad. He tweets @afnanwasif