In a move that has sent diplomatic tumblers spinning from Whitehall to the White House, Xi Jinping has decided to pop round to Pyongyang for a chinwag with Kim Jong Un. The last time a Chinese leader graced North Korea with his presence was 2005, which in political terms might as well be the Jurassic era. This is the diplomatic equivalent of finding a dodo in your garden: unexpected, improbable, and slightly concerning for anyone who values biodiversity or geopolitical stability.
Let's be honest, Xi isn't going for the kimchi. He's going because North Korea is the china shop of international relations, and someone needs to keep the bull from charging. But here's the rub: every time Xi and Kim share a stage, it's like watching two men arm-wrestle with invisible nukes. Kim wants sanctions relief and legitimacy; Xi wants to remind the world that China is still the big boss in the neighbourhood. Meanwhile, the UK's allies are on alert, which is diplomatic speak for “sweating into their breakfast croissants.”
What will they talk about? Probably the weather, which in Pyongyang is perpetually overcast with a chance of missile launches. Then there's the economy: North Korea's GDP is roughly equivalent to a medium-sized British Waitrose, but they've got nukes, so that's a thing. Xi will likely present Kim with a gift basket of economic lifelines, while Kim will pretend he hasn't been testing rockets that could theoretically reach California. It's a delicate dance, like trying to tango with a porcupine.
The British perspective? Our esteemed government is probably issuing statements about “monitoring the situation closely,” which is code for “we have no idea what's happening but we have a very nice map room.” Let's not forget that Kim and Xi are essentially the anti-Brexit: they're cosying up while the rest of the world fractures. It's the political equivalent of an awkward hug at a funeral.
In conclusion, this summit is a masterclass in political theatre. Xi gets to look like a statesman, Kim gets to look like a serious player, and the rest of us get to worry about whether our holiday plans to Seoul are at risk. Pass the gin. The world is absurd enough without needing a translator for the absurdity.
