A world on fire makes compelling case for G7 leaders to sit round table

When the G7 meets in Canada on Sunday it will be the 51st gathering since its foundation. But there will be no polite applause from the gallery. Instead, it faces searching questions about its relevance in these turbulent and divided times, with war in Europe, the Middle East in flames, and the Oval Office occupied by someone openly disdainful of alliances and multilateralism.

Ironically, the G7 summit was actually an American creation. It grew from a March 1973 meeting of finance ministers of the major western economies organised and hosted by the then US treasury secretary, the masterful George Shultz. Eighteen months later, the leaders of France, Germany, Japan and the US had all changed and the new American president, Gerald Ford, suggested that the new generation should meet in a “retreat”, as much as anything to get to know one another. Hence the Rambouillet summit of November 1975, hosted by Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, and the launch of this 50-year journey.

G7 summits have long been criticised for wordy, multi-page and widely unread communiques setting out lowest-common-denominator outcomes on too many subjects. But there have been moments when the G7 has made a genuine agenda-setting contribution, from the 1990s debt relief programme for the poorest countries to its response to the 2008 financial crisis. In 2014, it kicked Russia out of the by-then expanded G8 over its annexation of Crimea. Though this now sounds improbable given his complete break with the west, Putin valued G8 membership as a mark of Russia’s status and enjoyed the meetings while he had personal friends around the table such as Silvio Berlusconi and Gerhard Schroeder.

And there have been summits which have been more memorable for what has happened outside the conference centre than within. Gleneagles, in July 2005, was one of these. On 6 July, London won the race to host the 2012 Olympics, beating the expected choice of Paris. The nation rejoiced, while Jacques Chirac, attending the summit, took it with commendable grace. The same day, George Bush took a cycle ride around the grounds, attempted to wave to some spectators, lost control and collided with a police officer, who needed crutches and was off work for three months. But the celebrations over the Olympics and amusement over Bush’s bike-riding skills were short lived: the next day, 7 July, Islamist terrorists launched a series of bombing attacks on trains and buses in London, killing 52 people. Blair returned to London and the summit turned into an exercise in solidarity.

And one G7 summit became more famous for a photograph than anything said or written. The Charlevoix summit in June 2018 was hosted by Justin Trudeau. Donald Trump had just imposed tariffs on imports into America of steel and aluminium – sound familiar? The discussions were contentious, culminating in deadlock. With officials unable to resolve the disagreements, heads of government got involved. And someone in the German delegation took a photograph which went instantly and viral. It showed Trump seated, arms folded, looking defiant but cornered, every inch the sulky schoolboy. Leaning aggressively towards him, is Angela Merkel wearing an expression midway between irritated and furious, every centimetre the scolding head teacher. Around Merkel are a selection of G7 leaders, including Shinzo Abe of Japan and French president Emmanuel Macron looking like the kids who want to go home.

In the event, a deal was done. But it fell apart when Trump claimed Trudeau had misrepresented the tariffs discussion, disassociated himself from the communique and asserted that America was being treated like “the piggy bank that everybody is robbing”. Merkel, for her part, said afterwards that she had a “very open and direct relationship” with Trump”; her variant of the classic “free and frank discussions” line.

And that photograph encapsulates the challenge the G7 faces for the next four years. Trump hates multilateral summits. He doesn’t like sharing the spotlight. The only voice he is interested in is his own. And the G7 in particular sticks in his throat because he sees it as a gathering of countries that have got sleekly fat on the back of running trade surpluses with the US while getting America to pay for their defence.

So what’s the future for the G7 in the Age of Trump 2.0? It certainly faces a real challenge, with a leader in the White House who appears to believe that the appropriate grouping for decisions about the crises facing the world is a G3 comprising himself, Putin and President Xi of China. But there are two compelling arguments for persisting with the G7.

The first is, simply, the state of the world. The war on the European continent is into its fourth year, with more than a million dead and wounded, a ceasefire looking unlikely, and Russia reportedly preparing a major new offensive. Thousands are starving in Gaza while the Israeli operation enters its 21st month with no end in sight. Israel and Iran are in effect at war. And the global economy has been rocked by Trump’s tariffs and his impulsive and capricious conduct of American economic policy. In these circumstances, it is essential the leaders of the west can sit around a table for 48 hours and try to thrash out a common approach, whatever the interpersonal difficulties.

Second, a new core of the G7 may be emerging. Keir Starmer has a full briefcase of domestic troubles but has done well on the global stage. Mark Carney is a class act. And while it is early days for Friedrich Merz, he looks more the part of German chancellor than his predecessor. All three have to date been adroit Trump handlers. And all three have a good chance of being around for the next three to four years. If they can work together, there has to be some hope.

Lord Darroch is a former British ambassador to Washington