In a development that has sent shivers of schadenfreude through Whitehall, Germany’s spectacular diplomatic own goal at the United Nations has been laid squarely at the feet of Vladimir Putin’s ursine regime. The Kremlin, it seems, has perfected the art of the diplomatic sucker punch, leaving Angela Merkel’s successors reeling like a boxer who has wandered into a pub brawl after a few too many schnapps. Meanwhile, Britain, ever the plucky underdog with a stiff upper lip and a gin-soaked handkerchief, has seized the moment to strengthen the European diplomatic front, presumably by offering everyone a round of warm beer and a pamphlet on the virtues of parliamentary sovereignty.
Let us dissect this fiasco. Germany, the economic powerhouse of the continent, the nation that gave the world Beethoven, BMW, and bureaucracy, has been outfoxed by a man who still thinks the 1980s were the golden age of espionage. Russia’s UN victory is akin to a chess grandmaster losing to a pigeon: the pigeon merely knocks over the pieces, struts about, and shits on the board. Yet here we are, with Berlin blaming Moscow for its own failings, a classic case of the pot calling the samovar black.
The German delegation, presumably distracted by the quality of the bratwurst in the UN cafeteria, allowed themselves to be outmanoeuvered by Sergei Lavrov’s theatrical performance of wounded innocence. It was a masterclass in diplomatic gaslighting, leaving the Germans spluttering indignantly while the Russians calmly walked away with the silverware. And now, the British government, sensing an opportunity to play the gallant knight, has rushed to strengthen the European diplomatic front.
One can almost hear Boris Johnson’s ghost whispering from the wings: “Splendid! A chance to remind the continent that we still matter, even if we’ve left the building.” The Foreign Office, a department that operates on a diet of soggy biscuits and misplaced optimism, has reportedly been in frantic consultation with its European counterparts. The plan, as far as anyone can decipher, is to form a united front against Russian aggression, a sort of diplomatic Maginot Line that will surely hold this time.
But let us be honest: this is the same European diplomatic front that has been fractured by Brexit, undermined by Hungarian vetoes, and confused by French existentialism. Strengthening it is like trying to reinforce a sandcastle with jelly. Still, the effort is admirable in its futility. The British proposal, leaked to this correspondent by a source who smelled faintly of gin and regret, involves a series of joint statements, twitter hashtags, and possibly a commemorative mug.
The Germans, for their part, are said to be grateful for the support, though they cannot quite forget that Britain is no longer a member of the club. “It’s like having your ex-boyfriend show up at your wedding with a bottle of cheap champagne,” muttered one diplomat, who wished to remain anonymous. “We appreciate the gesture, but we’re not sure he should be here.”
Meanwhile, Russia watches with the amused detachment of a cat observing a mouse that has just tripped over its own tail. Putin, no doubt, is enjoying a hearty laugh while stroking his pet bear and planning his next move. The UN defeat is merely a prelude, a warning shot across the bows of European diplomacy. And what is Europe’s response? More committees, more statements, more hand-wringing.
In the end, this is a story about the triumph of style over substance. Germany blames Russia, Britain plays peacemaker, and the rest of Europe nods along, hoping the whole mess will blow over before the next crisis. But as any barman will tell you, you can’t fix a hangover with another round. And right now, European diplomacy is nursing one hell of a headache.
As for this correspondent, I will be raising a glass of questionable gin to the absurdity of it all. Cheers to the diplomats, the dreamers, and the deluded. May your unity last longer than a British summer.
