Lovely chandeliers, heavy baggage

The problem is that history has already been there. The last major peace settlement associated with it was the Treaty of Versailles of 1919, signed after World War I. It was meant to ensure that Europe would never again descend into such carnage. Instead, historians have spent more than a century debating whether the punitive terms imposed on Germany helped create the conditions that eventually led to the rise of Adolf Hitler and the outbreak of World War II. That is not exactly the kind of legacy one would put on a conference brochure.

If Versailles were a corporate brand, its communications department would probably focus on the architecture rather than the outcomes. The promotional material would highlight the sprawling gardens, the Hall of Mirrors, and the centuries of history. The fine print, however, might require careful drafting. Previous users included victorious Allied powers seeking to establish a stable international order. Long-term results, one might say in consulting jargon, were mixed. Perhaps nobody involved in choosing the venue thought about the historical baggage.

Perhaps they did and concluded that a century was long enough for the building to redeem itself. Or perhaps diplomats, like investors, believe that past performance is no guarantee of future results. Diplomacy has always had a weakness for symbolism. Leaders rarely sign important agreements in ordinary settings if they can avoid it. A memorandum concluded in a functional conference room is merely a document. The same memorandum signed beneath ornate ceilings and surrounded by centuries of history acquires the aura of an event. Whether it acquires durability is a different matter altogether.

Still, there is something irresistibly ironic about statesmen gathering under the gilded ceilings of Versailles to celebrate a new beginning. One imagines a nervous historian somewhere in the background, quietly raising a hand. “Just a reminder,” the historian says, “the last time everybody left this place convinced they had secured peace, things became somewhat complicated.” To be fair, buildings do not make history. People do. Versailles did not cause World War II any more than Geneva guarantees harmony or Davos guarantees prosperity.

Yet certain places acquire reputations that are difficult to shake. Wall Street is associated with financial booms and busts. Silicon Valley with technological disruption. Versailles is associated with peace settlements that looked definitive at the time but proved less durable than their architects imagined. The newly signed memorandum between the US and Iran is, by all accounts, an attempt to halt hostilities and create space for a more durable arrangement. Whether it succeeds will depend on political will, verification mechanisms, and the ability of both sides to sell compromise at home. None of that will be determined by French architecture.

Yet symbolism matters in diplomacy. Leaders choose venues carefully because places tell stories. When Richard Nixon travelled to China, the destination carried a message of its own. When Anwar Sadat went to Jerusalem, the journey itself became part of history. Locations matter as they shape the narrative around an event. So, what story does Versailles tell? Perhaps the optimists see a palace that has witnessed Europe’s worst conflicts and its eventual reconciliation. Perhaps they see a reminder that adversaries can eventually sit across the same table and find common ground. The pessimists, however, might say that Versailles has a habit of appearing at moments when leaders believe they have solved problems that later return in a different form. Either way, the palace has once again found itself hosting an attempt to reshape history.