In a development that has shattered the gentle hum of diplomatic pleasantries and sent a collective shiver through the cucumber sandwich set, Japan's Defence Minister has done the unthinkable. He has pointed at China's military build-up and used the word 'huge'. Not 'substantial', not 'concerning', not 'proportionate to regional dynamics'. Huge. As in 'enormous'. As in 'my word, that's a lot of hardware, old chap'. It seems the era of the passive-aggressive diplomatic note is over. We are now in the age of the passive-aggressive press conference, held in a room that smells faintly of sake and anxiety.
But wait, there's more. Britain, a nation currently trying to convince itself and the world that it is relevant outside the M25, has reaffirmed its 'Indo-Pacific commitment'. This is a phrase that means, roughly, 'We would very much like to sell you some warships and perhaps a Royal visit, but only if you promise to eat scones and pretend the weather is lovely'. The UK's commitment to the region, much like its commitment to proper plumbing in Victorian houses, is a matter of faith rather than observable fact. The destroyer HMS Defender, a vessel that seems to spend more time breaking down than a seaside donkey, has been dispatched to show the flag. Or rather, to show a flag that has been repeatedly washed in the wrong detergent and now looks vaguely pink.
The Japanese defence minister, a man whose name is inevitably forgotten by Western reporters five minutes after the press conference, minced no words. 'China's huge arsenal', he said, his voice quivering slightly like a jelly on a washing machine. 'Huge' presumably being the Japanese word for 'we would like to triple our defence budget but the finance minister keeps muttering about bond yields and the pension age'. Meanwhile, China responded with the diplomatic equivalent of a patient sigh. 'Our arsenal', said a spokesperson, 'is purely defensive. Like a very large, heavily-armed teddy bear that you should not, under any circumstances, provoke.'
The real question is: what does 'commitment' mean in this context? Does it mean Britain will actually do something if China invades Taiwan? Or does it mean Britain will send a strongly worded telegram and a basket of sympathy scones? Historically, Britain's response to global crises has been to form a committee, have a cup of tea, and then form a sub-committee to review the tea-making process. In the Indo-Pacific, this translates to 'we are here, but not really here, like a ghost that smells of stale gin and pipe tobacco'.
Let us be honest. The UK's naval presence in the region is about as formidable as a rubber duck in a hurricane. The Royal Navy currently has a number of ships that would be adequate for policing the Solent, but for patrolling the South China Sea, they would need a fleet of weatherproof pontoons and a lot of goodwill from the tides. Yet the charade continues. The Foreign Office, a building in which optimism and reality have never been introduced, has declared that Britain is 'turning its face to the Indo-Pacific'. This is a face that is, frankly, a bit tired and needs a nap.
Meanwhile, in the Kremlin, which is entirely unrelated but too good an opportunity to miss, Vladimir Putin is no doubt rubbing his hands together. Any diversion of Western attention to the East is good news for his ambitions in the West. It is like a three-way game of Diplomacy where everyone is trying to betray everyone else, except the rules are made up and the pieces are made of realpolitik and broken promises.
So here we are. Japan is worried, China is deploying, Britain is committing, and I am sitting in a pub near Westminster, drinking a pint of gin and tonic (mixed in the same glass, because the fridge is broken). The world goes mad, but the madness has a rhythm. It is the rhythm of diplomatic notes, naval exercises, and speeches that mean everything and nothing. And somewhere, an arms manufacturer is ordering a new yacht.
As always, I remain your correspondent on the edge of sanity, Barnaby 'Biff' Thistlethwaite. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a date with a bottle of Hendrick's and a microwave dinner. The gherkin is in the fridge, if anyone needs me.
