Geopolitics has certainly become more interesting since the advent of US President Donald Trump. But trying to understand him can be just as difficult as trying to make sense of the messy world we live in.
The Russia-Ukraine War seems to go on and on and tensions across the Middle East have not abated. Unresolved conflicts – often arising from the actions or policies of leaders – in Africa and elsewhere have resulted in millions being made homeless and desperate for food.
The ground beneath us – political and economically speaking – is unnervingly shaky.
Although there is always a danger in reading too much into them, the plays and characters of William Shakespeare – whose 462nd birthday fell on April 23 – can help us better understand the current situation because they offer striking parallels to today’s geopolitics and personalities such as Trump.
Today’s conflicts are often framed in modern geopolitical terms—Nato expansion, energy security, nuclear deterrent or historic border disputes—but at their core, they are driven by the Shakespearean themes of legacy and the restoration of lost glory.
Consider Coriolanus. The title character is an abrasive military leader, openly contemptuous of the established order and the common people. Trump, too, often thumbs his nose at traditional diplomacy and international norms. At times his actions even appear to work against the immediate interests of some of those who voted for him.
Yet, unlike Coriolanus who refused to court the masses and was exiled for it, Trump has built his strength precisely by rallying ordinary people against the elites as he seeks a legacy of making the US great again.
In Henry V, the young king is advised to wage war in France to prevent his nobles from fighting each other at home. Something similar has been suggested about Trump’s approach to Iran: a foreign conflict that tells critics of his tariff shifts and other controversies that “you are either with the commander-in-chief or with the enemy”.
No figure captures Trump’s style better than Richard III. He says one thing to a person’s face and the opposite behind their back, thriving on keeping everyone off-balance. Trump shares this talent.
Both reject the old notion of strength through stability and instead embrace strength through unpredictability — a negotiating playbook that keeps adversaries guessing, and forces constant renegotiation.
As Richard boasts in Henry VI, Part 3:
“I can add colours to the chameleon, Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, And set the murderous Machiavel to school.”
Shakespeare uses “Proteus,” the shape-shifting god, to describe a leader who gains power by being consistently inconsistent.
Critics have dubbed Trump’s similar approach “TACO” — Trump Always Chickens Out — referring to bold threats, especially on tariffs, that are later walked back or turned into deals. To some, this unpredictability is shrewd as it tests the nerves of opponents and seemingly creates leverage. To others, it risks the loss of credibility and allies.
A similar rhetorical move appears in Julius Caesar, when Mark Antony calls Brutus “an honourable man” moments before revealing Caesar’s bloody cloak. The words sound reasonable; the effect keeps everyone uncertain.
But King Lear offers a sobering warning about such tactics. Once a ruler’s power rests largely on image and grand declarations rather than credible follow-through, authority can vanish quickly. Lear’s threats become increasingly vague and hollow:
“I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall—I will do such things—, What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be, The terrors of the earth.”
Lear rages about “terrors” while having no army and no plan.
Some see echoes of this in moments when Trump’s bold promises meet reality and have to be scaled back. Already, even longstanding US allies have begun exploring options as they perceive US policy as increasingly unilateral and unpredictable.
A rather different parallel emerges with Russia’s actions in Ukraine.
In Henry V, King Henry claims he is not conquering France but reclaiming his rightful ancestral lands. In strikingly similar language, Vladimir Putin has framed his invasion of Ukraine not as conquest but as “returning” historic Russian territory.
Comparing himself to Peter the Great, he called the Soviet collapse “the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the twentieth century,” and argued in a 2021 essay that Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians were “one people”.
In Shakespeare’s histories, weak kings lose land while great ones expand the realm. Putin clearly aims to be remembered as one of the latter.
Whether Putin succeeds in adding land to Russia remains to be seen. Whether Trump’s TACO-style approach strengthens or weakens America’s position remains to be seen too. One thing is clear: Both men want to be remembered as great leaders, if not the greatest, of their respective nations.
What is also clear is that the Bard understood the human drama of power better than many. The true genius of Shakespeare is how vividly he still speaks to us more than four centuries after his death.
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The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of FMT.