Pomp and No Circumstance.

There are occasions in international diplomacy when the choreography becomes so elaborate that one begins to suspect it may itself be the outcome.

Donald Trump's recent visit to Beijing arrived wrapped in precisely the sort of ceremonial grandeur that modern summitry reserves for moments of either historic significance or complete strategic uncertainty. Military honour guards stood immaculately aligned outside the Great Hall of the People. Banquets unfolded beneath impossible chandeliers. Smiling children appeared at carefully measured intervals. Mr Trump described the outcome as settling "a lot of different problems." Mr Xi, speaking in Mandarin, reached for Thucydides. One can only speculate how that fared in simultaneous translation.

Several days later, it remains faintly difficult to identify which problems those were.

The summit has already acquired a slightly Elgarian quality. Sir Edward Elgar borrowed the title Pomp and Circumstance from Shakespeare's Othello, where the phrase refers to the "pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war." Modern audiences, of course, mostly associate it with graduation ceremonies, polished brass, and public display. Beijing managed to provide all three.

And perhaps that is unfair. Something was achieved. The temperature between Washington and Beijing appears marginally lower than before, which in current geopolitical conditions may qualify as meaningful progress. Both sides agreed that Iran should not possess nuclear weapons and that the Strait of Hormuz ought to remain open, although this is rather like world leaders jointly announcing continued support for gravity.

Beyond that, the summit's concrete achievements proved elusive. Mr Trump announced, with some satisfaction, that China had agreed to purchase 200 Boeing jets, relaying the news on Fox News with the phrase "Boeing wanted 150; they got 200." Wall Street, which had anticipated closer to 500, sent Boeing's stock down nearly five percent. One is left to admire an achievement that managed to disappoint everyone while being presented as a triumph.

Ukraine remained unresolved. Taiwan emerged looking, if anything, rather more dangerous than before, after Xi Jinping reportedly warned that mishandling the issue could lead to "clashes or even conflict", a remark left sitting at the table like a cracked wine glass nobody wished to acknowledge. Mr Rubio later reassured the press that China "always raises" Taiwan and that everyone then "moves on." Taiwan's Foreign Minister thanked him for the clarification.

Even the absences were instructive. Melania Trump did not attend, leaving the softer rituals of diplomatic theatre to be replaced by executives, trade delegates, and men discussing strategic stability beneath enormous floral arrangements. The atmosphere occasionally resembled a luxury resources conference cosplaying Yalta.

What lingered throughout was the curious modern conviction that the appearance of geopolitical control may itself constitute control. The imagery projected confidence, authority, and mutual respect. The communiqués projected momentum. Yet beneath the polished ceremony the central disputes remained almost perfectly intact, resting quietly under the lacquer like expensive furniture nobody wishes to scratch.

Othello, it is worth remembering, is ultimately a play about people mistaking performance for truth. One trusts the parallel stops there.

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The views expressed are those of the correspondent. Factual claims draw on publicly available sources.