In a development so obvious it could only be delivered by a man in a rumpled suit clutching a microphone near a perilously unguarded cake stand, the BBC’s chief international correspondent has issued a grave pronouncement: the Iran nuclear deal has, in his learned opinion, laid bare the faintly embarrassing boundaries of American hegemony. The earth, it appears, has not stopped spinning solely because Uncle Sam waved his star-spangled glockenspiel. This revelation, delivered with the sort of solemnity usually reserved for funerals of small rodents, has sent shockwaves through the rarefied air of think tanks and radio studios where men earnestly debate the curvature of geopolitical teacups.
The correspondent, presumably after a particularly bracing cup of Baghdad chai, noted that the deal, which sees Iran enriching precisely enough uranium to power a toaster for all eternity, highlights a world where the United States can no longer simply demand things and expect the rest of the planet to meekly produce them. Quelle horreur. This is the sort of insight that might have occurred to anyone with a pulse and a passing familiarity with the last two decades, but delivered with the gravitas of a man who has just discovered that water is wet and, moreover, that it can be used for washing.
The implication is clear: the American empire, that marble-topped monstrosity of military bases and fast-food franchises, is showing cracks in its plasterwork. The deal, which the White House has alternately praised as a diplomatic masterstroke and denounced as a sellout to the mullahs, depending on which day of the week it is, apparently proves that the rest of the world is not, in fact, waiting breathlessly for America’s next instruction. They are, it seems, doing their own thing.
This is, of course, a disaster for the sort of people who believe that the slogan 'Made in the USA' should apply to foreign policy as well as to questionable denim. But for the rest of us, it is merely the confirmation of something we already knew: the world is a complicated, messy place where everyone has their own interests, and not even the finest Bloomberg terminal can change that. So raise a glass of airport gin to the BBC’s chief correspondent.
He has finally, after years of covering coups and crises, caught up with reality. Now, if only he could tell us something we don’t already know, like where to find a proper cup of tea in this godforsaken city.
