By: Enver Robelli
The Oval Office is the most important office in the world. Because it hosts the most important politician—or, more precisely, the most influential politician on the planet: the President of the United States of America. Donald Trump.
The Oval Office isn’t big. Just 76 square meters. About the size of the apartment that a sun-scorched, homesick Kosovar expat buys in Pristina, Gjilan, or Peja, only to spend five days there out of the 365 days of the year.
The furniture in the Oval Office is mostly cream-colored. That’s how it was on May 29, 1998, when the leader of Kosovo’s Albanians, Ibrahim Rugova, entered with his delegation. The conversation unfolded in soft, calm, amicable tones—despite the dramatic situation in Kosovo. In one photo, Rugova and Bill Clinton are seated in matching (of course, cream-colored) armchairs, their fingers interlaced. They look like two Buddhist theologians meditating in a Burmese temple.
The only risky scene is the moment when Rugova hands Clinton a large, precious stone from Trepça. Astrologers in Velania claim that the size of the stone Rugova gifted someone reflected how highly he regarded that person. The bigger the stone, the greater the respect. And the reverse: the smaller the stone, the smaller the significance of the recipient in Rugova’s eyes.
But what if that mega-mineral from Mitrovica had slipped from Rugova’s hands and bruised Clinton’s big toe—left or right? Thankfully, nothing of the sort happened. But even if it had (God forbid!), the awkward moment would’ve likely been smoothed over with elegance (why isn’t that word—zotnillëk—in the official Albanian dictionary?). Different times, different customs, different temperaments.
Twenty-seven years later, much remains unchanged in the Oval Office—but its occupant is someone entirely different. The style of communication has changed too. The Oval Office has turned into a kind of grill where Donald Trump roasts visiting statesmen live, in front of the world, the cameras, the photographers.
The first and most prominent victim was the President of Ukraine—a former actor (and lawyer, technically)—who fell into a trap. Like a disobedient schoolboy, he was scolded by the American president (and his vice president) and accused of ingratitude. A reporter close to Trump even asked the Ukrainian president why he wasn’t wearing a suit. Trump never asked that question to any Arab emir when he visited the Persian Gulf a few days earlier. Those rulers welcomed the American president in traditional garb—dishdashas or kandooras—paired with sandals. When you’ve got billions—hundreds of billions—you can dress however you want, even in front of the President of the United States. If you gift Trump a luxury jet (as Qatar reportedly plans to), then your freedom of dress is limitless—including showing off your toes. Guests might even catch a glimpse of the moment when the Arab ruler last clipped his toenails.
After the Pope from Argentina passed away, the Ukrainian president met Trump in a marble palace in the Vatican. They spoke for fifteen minutes. Their relationship improved slightly—but not completely. Trump doesn’t have much time to waste on conversation. The world’s most powerful man has other plans.
After Ukraine’s leader, it was South African President Cyril Ramaphosa’s turn on the grill. Trump accused his guest of apartheid—this time against whites in South Africa. He even presented photographic “evidence” (which, incidentally, wasn’t even from South Africa, but who’s checking?). Then Trump ordered his staff to turn off the lights to screen a video, supposedly documenting white genocide. With his flair for drama, Trump turned the Oval Office into a cinema. Ramaphosa endured the grilling without flinching. He hadn’t come to the Oval unprepared. He brought along several white businessmen. One of them, a golfer. The South African delegation also presented Trump with a hefty golf book—14 kilograms.
Canada’s Prime Minister, Mark Carney, got off relatively easy in the Oval Office. After winning the election on a clear promise that Canada would not become part of the United States—as Trump had provocatively suggested—Carney entered the White House with confidence and told the American president his country would never be for sale. Trump replied, “Never say never.” But Canada is a different caliber altogether compared to Ukraine or South Africa.
Finnish President Alexander Stubb chose a different approach. He didn’t go to the Oval Office—he visited Trump at his palace in Florida. Stubb had an edge over other statesmen: he’s a seasoned diplomat and politician, educated in the U.S. and Belgium, and had taught at a European university in Florence, Italy. But his biggest asset? He plays golf. And that’s exactly what he did in Florida with Trump.
Today, Thursday, June 5th, 2025, the next guest in the Oval Office is Friedrich Merz—the German Chancellor. Before crossing the Atlantic and landing in Washington, Merz did his homework. He spoke with the South African president and the Finnish one. Serious chats between troubled men. The topic: how to avoid being roasted by Trump. After his election, Merz had a phone call with Trump. German media say it went well. Trump talked about his German roots. Merz shared that he had served in the military in that very region of Germany—and that he once worked in Chicago. Trump said, “Chicago is a great city.”
So, what’s the lesson statesmen are learning from their Trump encounters? In the Oval Office, don’t try to act smart. Be an ego masseuse. Praise him. Tell him he’s the greatest. Say he’s always been right—and will continue to be right in the future. Above all, talk money. Mention investments, billions, cash. Congratulate him for lifting sanctions on Syria.
British Prime Minister Keir Starmer played a card only the Brits can play: he handed Trump a letter from King Charles. It was an invitation for a state visit to the UK—his second, after the 2019 one. The upcoming visit will be “historic” and “unprecedented,” said Starmer. Another lesson: when you meet Trump, don’t be stingy—dish out superlatives and compliments like candy.
How will Merz fare in the Oval Office? Only God knows. Some German politicians worry Trump might find a reason to stir up trouble. For instance, he might feel jealous that Merz, at 198 cm tall, is exactly 7.62 cm taller than the American president. Correction—not taller, but longer. We all know who the “greatest” is.
At the time of this article’s submission, the Trump–Merz meeting hasn’t yet begun. The German journalists traveling with the chancellor are anxious, uneasy, tense. Why? The schedule changed at the last moment. Originally, Merz was supposed to have lunch with Trump first, then head to the Oval Office. Now, the Americans have reversed it: first, the photo op and press statements in the Oval Office, then lunch. The Germans had hoped that lunch would ease the atmosphere.
And not just for laughs should we imagine Edi Rama visiting the White House. It would be a spectacle if this undiplomatic showman were to sit where Ibrahim Rugova sat in 1998—in the Oval Office. Rama wouldn’t bring precious stones like Rugova, but to look like Trump, he might throw on an orange wig. That’s the bare minimum one might expect. And maybe ten Trump-branded beach towels—for the shores of Sazan Island. But things could take a darker turn if Trump turned the Oval into a cinema and screened an old CNN interview of Rama from April 2016—not a broadcast from Rrogozhinë TV—where Rama basically predicted the end of the world if Trump were to win the presidency.