International summits are a curious mix of the theatrical,
diplomatic and administrative. Firstly, their scale. They are a huge
undertaking, with massive security.
Little wonder: a collection of world leaders, in the same place,
at the same time, at a long before advertised event. And so the skies swarm
with helicopters.
The streets are packed with lanyard wearing attendees, clutching
their all-important accreditation for fear that without it, even crossing a road
might prove impossible.
I spotted two of my colleagues in the travelling British press
pack out on a jog earlier, in the driving rain. Shorts and T shirts on, yellow
G7 lanyards still hanging around their necks.
Pity the poor residents of Hiroshima suddenly unable to take
their normal route to work or wherever, because of road closures.
Then there is the theatre.
At the heart of politics are people. Personal relationships
matter in politics and diplomacy just as they do in any other walk of life.
And politicians, in particular, have audiences back home to
address, images to burnish and impressions to leave.
And so there are the theatrical moments, such as Rishi Sunak
wearing the red socks of the Hiroshima Toyo Carp baseball team, whose fans
include the host of the Summit – Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida.
Then, there is the diplomacy. In the weeks and months before a
summit, diplomats for each country discuss their own outlooks and those of
others, to try to find common ground.
These diplomats are known as sherpas. They lead the way to the
Summit.
The political leaders then come together for a marathon series
of talks – in big groups and one on one – and at the end, usually, what emerges
is called a communique – the agreed conclusions.
Often broad, often vague, they attempt to take account of every
country’s position, emphasis and focus, on various issues. The aim being
ongoing discussions can build upon them.
Right, where’s my lanyard?
