“This is going to be great television, I will say that.”
So concluded President Trump after a stunning Oval Office confrontation in February, in front of live cameras, in which he and Vice President JD Vance took turns castigating President Volodymyr Zelensky of Ukraine and held out the prospect of withholding support for the country invaded by Russia.
At a May meeting with President Cyril Ramaphosa of South Africa, Mr. Trump brought his own television, playing video clips to support his false claims that white South African farmers have been the victims of genocide. The ambush, which also found Mr. Trump showing a news image actually taken from the Democratic Republic of Congo, left Mr. Ramaphosa scrambling to respond. But again, the cameras broadcast it all.
The confrontations were shocking compared with how diplomacy has long been conducted in that stately office. But they were not surprising — at least, not to anyone who had watched Mr. Trump during his 14 seasons as the capricious, demanding host of the NBC business-competition series “The Apprentice.”
In his high-drama Oval Office meetings, carried live on cable news, Mr. Trump has created himself a reality show right inside the White House. It is a serial production, tailored to his tastes for attention and drama, in which his guests submit to judgment and win a blessing or a tongue-lashing.
The dynamic in these showdowns is oddly similar to the climactic “firings” Mr. Trump conducted on the NBC show. Then, as now, Mr. Trump was installed in a set designed to magnify his power — in “The Apprentice,” it was a sleek “boardroom” custom-built to improve on Trump Tower’s underwhelming real-life offices.
Reality competition shows and Mr. Trump’s politics operate on the same principles: shock value, conflict, shows of dominance. Escalating a fight is almost always better for ratings than defusing one. So it was in Mr. Trump’s TV career; so it is in his administration, whether the tussle is with a world leader or Elon Musk.
On “The Apprentice” Mr. Trump was adversarial and mercurial. Anything could set him off. He might judge a contestant too assertive or not assertive enough, too meek or too mouthy, too disrespectful or too sycophantic. He was like a mythical beast, in a lair of spring-loaded traps, who might grant you a wish or devour you depending how you answered its inscrutable riddle.
Now the Oval Office is Mr. Trump’s boardroom. It, too, has been restyled to his aesthetic, acquiring a frosting of Mar-a-Lago gold trim. He is seated in a position of dominance, leaning his large frame forward in his gold-toned chair while his guest sits at attention. A fireplace sits between the two of them, though usually the only flames are those thrown by the president.
Like the boardroom elimination scenes, the meetings follow a pattern. There are welcomes and niceties. The president invites comment by his lieutenants. There is discussion, spurred sometimes by the reporters in the room, who serve both as targets of Mr. Trump — “sick people” — and catalysts for his drama.
And at some point — not always, but often — sparks fly. You can feel the mood turn, as if the musical score shifted to a minor key. A guest might contradict Mr. Trump or correct a factual detail, as when Mr. Zelensky noted that Russia first invaded his country in 2014, not 2022. Mr. Trump might push his guests outside their comfort zone, or a reporter might raise a sore subject. There is a challenge, or a misstep, or a subtle slight, and suddenly, the news conference is a war zone.
Watch with the sound off — as Mr. Trump often does with his onscreen appearances — and you can see how the body language plays out. Mr. Zelensky takes a brooding posture as Mr. Trump leans in; in a heated moment, Mr. Trump even pushes lightly at Mr. Zelensky’s arm. Mr. Ramaphosa maintains an incredulous smile, with an occasional head shake, as his host — the star — holds forth. The discomfort needs no closed captioning.
As on “The Apprentice,” in which Mr. Trump was flanked by a cast of advisers, Mr. Trump has help from the sidelines. Mr. Vance sometimes plays the pot-stirring sidekick, as when he challenged Mr. Zelensky, saying, “Have you said ‘Thank you’ once this entire meeting?” — a comment that seemed to further inflame Mr. Trump, always highly attuned to affronts.
His guests are often cross-pressured by the cameras, caught between the host’s glare and the eyes of the home audience. This added uncomfortable subtext to a February meeting with King Abdullah II of Jordan, in which Mr. Trump declared, “We will have Gaza” and pressed the monarch to take in displaced Palestinians, a highly unpopular proposal in Arab countries. The king tried to deflect the suggestion and placate Mr. Trump with alternatives; later he rebuffed the request on social media.
In this televised arena, facing a powerful host-producer who controls the topics and framing, you can choose different strategies. Mr. Zelensky, a practiced TV performer whose facility on camera helped rally the world around his country, refused to give ground. This did not stop the meeting from devolving, but one can always hope that the pugnacious host respects a fighter; the two leaders were spotted talking at the funeral for Pope Francis in April.
You can try to pre-empt, as Mr. Ramaphosa did. He brought his own guests, including South African golfers, the better to gain the ear of the links-obsessed president. Despite the multimedia assault, Mr. Ramaphosa managed to make a sustained argument against Mr. Trump’s claims of genocide.
What Mr. Trump seems to like best on the Oval “Apprentice,” however, is a mirror, just as he did on NBC. In the first season of “The Apprentice,” the contestant Sam Solovey ingratiated himself by affirming Mr. Trump’s belief in the value of a strong “genetic pool” (before falling out of favor, as so many have).
President Nayib Bukele of El Salvador flattered Mr. Trump and joined him in bashing the press. He also echoed Mr. Trump’s sarcastic brazenness over questions about a man wrongfully deported to a Salvadoran prison. The Italian prime minister, Giorgia Meloni — a like-minded conservative with anti-migrant policies — dropped buzzwords like “woke” and “D.E.I.” in English and emerged from her boardroom session without incident.
Even when there are no fireworks in the room, however, there can still be offscreen drama. It was during his June 5 live-TV meeting with Friedrich Merz, the chancellor of Germany, that Mr. Trump lashed back at Mr. Musk’s criticisms of his domestic legislation.
Reality-TV drama is often juiced by the “second screen” — that is, the buzz online when a big scene goes viral on social media. On June 5, the on-air slam spurred Mr. Musk to launch a real-time fusillade against the “ingratitude” of the president whose campaign he had lavishly funded.
Beyond the political conflict, the season’s juiciest breakup was also a contest between media formats. Mr. Trump stoked his attacks on his microblogging site, Truth Social. Mr. Musk blasted out his grievances and threats through the larger platform X, which he bought in 2022.
When you’re in the hot seat on the Oval Office “Apprentice,” it helps to have your own personal media outlet. But Mr. Trump, his monopoly on attention has shown, still controls television.
James Poniewozik is the chief TV critic for The Times. He writes reviews and essays with an emphasis on television as it reflects a changing culture and politics.
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