The Farm of Seven Gates

A Satirical Playlet after Évian

Editor’s Note

This satirical playlet is inspired, in spirit and method, by George Orwell’s Animal Farm and Arthur Miller’s The Crucible — two enduring works that used allegory, theatre, irony and moral exaggeration to examine power, fear, vanity, manipulation and public truth. The present piece employs a similar satirical idiom to reflect upon the recent G7 summit, the performative habits of contemporary diplomacy, and the theatrical excesses that often overwhelm serious questions of war, sovereignty, alliance, dignity and global order.

No injury, insult or personal disrespect is intended towards any individual, nation, office or people. The dramatised figures, animal images and exaggerated situations are used purely as instruments of political satire. The purpose is not defamation, but critique; not abuse, but reflection; not personal attack, but an attempt to expose, through humour and allegory, the absurdities and dangers of a world in which diplomacy increasingly resembles spectacle and power too often mistakes performance for statesmanship.

Dramatis Animaliae

The Orange Boar — lord of the Golden Sty; believes history exists to applaud him.
The Fox of Évian — keeper of the gates; elegant, exhausted, forever arranging chairs around explosions.
The Roman Lioness — proud, sharp-clawed, allergic to humiliation.
The Peacock from the Banyan Court — magnificent, ancient, conscious of his plumage and sovereignty.
The German Draft-Horse — large, sensible, burdened by accounts, pipes, tanks and historical guilt.
The Island Hound — polite, nervous, waiting to be noticed by the Boar.
The Northern Beaver — industrious, anxious about the river freezing and the neighbour flooding it.
The Rising Crane — precise, economical, speaks rarely but audits everyone.
The Delegation of Invited Creatures — called “partners” when useful, “guests” when inconvenient.
The Sheep of the Press Pen — bleat in breaking-news rhythm.
The Owl of Memory — old, inconvenient, given to footnotes.
A Tablet — glowing, vulgar, omnipresent.

Prologue: The Placard

A large placard descends from the rafters.

PLACARD:
This is not a summit.
This is a photograph in search of a treaty.

Lights rise on a grand farm beside a lake. Seven gates stand in a semicircle. Beyond them are mountains, flags, armoured cars, translation booths, and a banquet table long enough to feed famine but designed mainly for protocol.

The animals enter not as citizens of a farm, but as proprietors of the world.

OWL OF MEMORY:
Once upon a time, the animals gathered to discuss hunger, war, debt, fever, steel, ships, children, minerals, machines, and the future of the earth. They called this seriousness. Then one animal arrived with a mirror.

Enter the Orange Boar. He carries a golden mirror in one hoof and a tablet in the other. Behind him walk several Sheep of the Press Pen, panting.

SHEEP:
Breaking! Historic! Unprecedented! Personal chemistry! Strong body language! Possible reset!

ORANGE BOAR:
Where is the best light?

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
Welcome, honoured friend. We have prepared sessions on Ukraine, Iran, maritime security, debt vulnerability, supply chains, artificial intelligence, children online, critical minerals—

ORANGE BOAR:
Yes, yes. But where is the best light?

The Fox smiles with the pain of a civilisation pretending not to decay.

Scene I: The Summit of Equal Beasts

All animals sit at the table. Each has a nameplate. The Orange Boar’s nameplate is larger than the table.

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
Friends, the world is passing through grave convulsions. There is war in the east, smoke in the Middle East, debt in the south, distrust in the seas, and machines learning to speak before men have learned to think. We must demonstrate unity.

GERMAN DRAFT-HORSE:
Unity requires balance.

RISING CRANE:
Balance requires discipline.

NORTHERN BEAVER:
Discipline requires planning.

ISLAND HOUND:
Planning requires agreement.

ORANGE BOAR:
Agreement requires me.

A silence.

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
Naturally, every voice here is important.

ORANGE BOAR:
Some voices are more photogenic than others.

OWL OF MEMORY:
The sentence passed through the hall like a cold draught from an older barn.

ROMAN LIONESS:
We are not here for photographs.

ORANGE BOAR:
Everyone says that before asking for one.

ROMAN LIONESS:
Some of us came with nations, not vanity.

ORANGE BOAR:
Same thing, if the lighting is good.

PEACOCK FROM THE BANYAN COURT:
Civilisations older than this barn do not reduce themselves to lighting.

ORANGE BOAR:
My friend, you are magnificent. Great feathers. Tremendous feathers. If anyone attacks those feathers while you are in charge, we will be there. Absolutely there. If another bird gets the perch, we’ll see. But for you, we’ll be there.

The Peacock pauses. His feathers tremble — not from fear, but from the insult of being praised like property.

PEACOCK:
The Banyan Court has defended itself through empires, famines, invasions, partitions, wars, sanctions, sermons and unsolicited advice. It does not rent its sovereignty by the presidential term.

ORANGE BOAR:
That sounded very strong. We should announce a deal.

PEACOCK:
There is no deal.

ORANGE BOAR:
Even better. We announce progress.

SHEEP:
Progress! Progress! Tremendous chemistry!

Scene II: The Treaty of the Mirror

The Tablet begins to glow. The Orange Boar dictates into it.

ORANGE BOAR:
Truth Post. The Roman Lioness begged me for a picture. Begged beautifully. I said no. Then I felt pity. I am a compassionate boar. So I allowed the picture.

ROMAN LIONESS:
What did you say?

ORANGE BOAR:
I said you are welcome.

ROMAN LIONESS:
I did not ask you for a picture.

ORANGE BOAR:
That is exactly what people say after they ask.

ROMAN LIONESS:
I did not beg. I have never begged. My nation does not beg.

ORANGE BOAR:
Strong denial. Very Italian. Looks good on camera.

ROMAN LIONESS:
You mistake friendship for submission, courtesy for hunger, diplomacy for supplication.

ORANGE BOAR:
I mistake nothing. I own the mirror.

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
Perhaps we could move to the statement on geopolitical issues.

ROMAN LIONESS:
Geopolitics begins with dignity. If an ally cannot tell the truth about a photograph, why should anyone trust him about missiles, borders, oil, ceasefires or peace?

The Sheep look confused. They had come prepared for adjectives, not principles.

SHEEP:
Stunned! Pushback! Diplomatic row! Fallout! Viral clip!

ISLAND HOUND:
Perhaps there has been a misunderstanding.

ROMAN LIONESS:
There has been no misunderstanding. There has been a performance.

GERMAN DRAFT-HORSE:
Performance has costs.

RISING CRANE:
So does dependence.

NORTHERN BEAVER:
So does proximity to a larger creature who thinks the river belongs to his reflection.

OWL OF MEMORY:
And thus the summit discovered, somewhat late in the afternoon, that protocol cannot sterilise contempt.

Scene III: The Invited Creatures

At the far end of the table sit the Delegation of Invited Creatures. Their chairs are smaller but their populations are larger.

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
We warmly welcome our partners.

INVITED CREATURES:
Are we partners?

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
Certainly.

INVITED CREATURES:
Do we decide?

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
You enrich the conversation.

INVITED CREATURES:
Do we draft the communiqué?

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
You are reflected in its spirit.

INVITED CREATURES:
Do we share power?

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
You share the photograph.

The Orange Boar enters the photograph before anyone has assembled.

ORANGE BOAR:
Make sure I am central.

PEACOCK:
There are other centres in history.

ORANGE BOAR:
Not in this frame.

OWL OF MEMORY:
The old institutions had become expert at enlarging the frame without moving the centre.

The Invited Creatures murmur among themselves.

FIRST INVITED CREATURE:
They call us partners because the old order needs our legitimacy.

SECOND INVITED CREATURE:
They call us guests because it fears our equality.

THIRD INVITED CREATURE:
They ask us to bless a table we did not build, price a debt we did not create, police a sea we did not militarise, and admire a machine that may replace our children before it educates them.

FOURTH INVITED CREATURE:
And after lunch they will say the summit was inclusive.

ORANGE BOAR:
Who said inclusive? I love inclusive. Very good word. Means everyone is included after the decisions.

Scene IV: The Farm Discusses War

A map is rolled out. It contains seas, pipelines, ports, disputed borders, burning tankers, drones, sanctions, arrows, and several small countries coloured in the ink of larger countries.

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
We must address the war in the east.

GERMAN DRAFT-HORSE:
Support must be sustained.

RISING CRANE:
Sanctions must be coherent.

NORTHERN BEAVER:
Energy routes must be secured.

ISLAND HOUND:
And messaging must be disciplined.

ORANGE BOAR:
I spoke to everyone. I know everyone. They all respect me. The war could end quickly if people listened.

OWL OF MEMORY:
Power always believes peace is a matter of volume.

ROMAN LIONESS:
Peace requires seriousness.

ORANGE BOAR:
Seriousness is overrated. Spectacle moves markets.

PEACOCK:
Spectacle also kills sailors.

A pause. Even the Sheep stop chewing paper.

PEACOCK:
The sea is not merely a corridor for your sanctions and your fleets. It is a workplace. It carries men who have families, wages, fears, and names. Great powers speak of chokepoints. Small cabins hear explosions.

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
We have language on freedom of navigation.

PEACOCK:
Language is not a life jacket.

GERMAN DRAFT-HORSE:
Nor is rhetoric an insurance policy.

RISING CRANE:
Nor is alliance a substitute for judgment.

ORANGE BOAR:
Fine. We will say safety is important. Very important. Tremendously important. But if someone attacks my friend here, I will defend him. Unless the friend changes. Then I will evaluate the feathers.

PEACOCK:
You have not understood. A nation is not defended as a favour. It is engaged as a sovereign.

ORANGE BOAR:
Sovereign. Good word. Sounds expensive.

Scene V: Dinner at the Palace

The summit table transforms into a palace banquet. Chandeliers descend. Silver covers are lifted. Beneath them are not meals but declarations.

SERVANT:
For the first course: unity on Ukraine.

SERVANT:
For the second: concern over Iran.

SERVANT:
For the third: critical minerals with a reduction of dependency.

SERVANT:
For the fourth: artificial intelligence with ethical garnish.

SERVANT:
For dessert: inclusive development with private capital drizzle.

INVITED CREATURES:
Is there anything for debt relief?

SERVANT:
There is language.

INVITED CREATURES:
Language again?

SERVANT:
It pairs well with austerity.

ORANGE BOAR:
This palace is terrific. The best diplomacy happens near chandeliers. Makes everyone look richer.

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
Europe has learned to survive by ceremony.

ROMAN LIONESS:
Ceremony without self-respect becomes costume.

ISLAND HOUND:
Costume can be useful.

GERMAN DRAFT-HORSE:
Until winter.

NORTHERN BEAVER:
Until tariffs.

RISING CRANE:
Until the supply chain snaps.

OWL OF MEMORY:
The animals ate declarations and went hungry from the inside.

Scene VI: The New Commandments

The Tablet projects phrases onto the barn wall. The old words “Cooperation”, “Dignity”, “Sovereignty”, “Multilateralism” appear faintly beneath new text.

TABLET:

1. All allies are equal, provided they applaud on cue.
2. Sovereignty is sacred, except when personalised.
3. A photograph is not policy, but may replace it.
4. Guests may speak, partners may smile, owners may decide.
5. Truth is what survives the news cycle.
6. Dignity must be declared immediately before being traded.
7. No one begs, unless the mirror requires a story.

ROMAN LIONESS:
Erase that.

ORANGE BOAR:
But it is trending.

ROMAN LIONESS:
Erase it.

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
Perhaps we can say the text was misinterpreted.

ROMAN LIONESS:
No. Misinterpretation is the refuge of cowards. He lied.

The hall freezes. The word is too plain for diplomacy.

SHEEP:
Lied? Lied? Strong word! Escalation! Crisis! Diplomatic rupture!

OWL OF MEMORY:
The Sheep disliked nouns. Nouns ended arguments too quickly.

PEACOCK:
There comes a time when nations must rescue language from protocol.

GERMAN DRAFT-HORSE:
And policy from theatre.

RISING CRANE:
And economics from vanity.

NORTHERN BEAVER:
And alliances from hostage-taking.

ISLAND HOUND:
And perhaps courage from embarrassment.

ORANGE BOAR:
You are all being very unfair. I made the summit interesting.

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
That is precisely the problem.

Epilogue: Exit Through the Gift Shop

The animals prepare to leave. The photographs are distributed. In every photograph, the Orange Boar appears larger than physics allowed.

INVITED CREATURES:
Will there be reform?

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
There will be a working group.

INVITED CREATURES:
Will the table expand?

GERMAN DRAFT-HORSE:
It may.

RISING CRANE:
But perhaps not the kitchen.

ROMAN LIONESS:
Will dignity be protected?

OWL OF MEMORY:
Only by those who practise it when cameras are on.

PEACOCK:
Will great powers learn respect?

OWL OF MEMORY:
Only when rising powers stop confusing access with honour.

ORANGE BOAR:
Before we go, one last picture.

ROMAN LIONESS:
No.

PEACOCK:
No.

GERMAN DRAFT-HORSE:
No.

RISING CRANE:
No.

NORTHERN BEAVER:
No.

ISLAND HOUND:
Perhaps a group photograph?

Everyone stares.

ISLAND HOUND:
No.

The Tablet dims. The Sheep look around helplessly, deprived of choreography.

SHEEP:
What is the headline?

OWL OF MEMORY:
Write this: The summit succeeded in proving that the old order still knows how to gather, pose, dine, declare and disperse. What it no longer knows is how to command respect without demanding applause.

The lights begin to fade.

FOX OF ÉVIAN:
Will there be another summit?

OWL OF MEMORY:
Of course. Decline always schedules another meeting.

Blackout.

Closing Note

The scandal of Évian was not that one leader boasted, insulted, exaggerated or personalised diplomacy. That is now routine. The scandal was that the architecture of global order appeared so vulnerable to one man’s appetite for spectacle.

The world’s richest democracies gathered to speak of war, debt, artificial intelligence, maritime security, Ukraine, Iran, supply chains and the future of the international system. Yet the summit will be remembered, at least in part, for a quarrel over a photograph and a casual assurance that seemed to reduce India’s strategic autonomy to the personal chemistry between two leaders.

This is not merely comic. It is diagnostic.

The old farm is still standing. Its gates are polished. Its banquets are splendid. Its statements are solemn. But the animals can hear the hinges rusting. The age of deference is ending. The age of performance is exhausting itself.

Somewhere beyond the fences, a different world is learning to meet without asking permission to be seen.

And on the last remaining wall of the old farm, beneath the fading flags and the portraits of vanished certainties, one sentence still glowed with the terrible accuracy of prophecy:

ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS.