In a move that has sent a ripple of existential dread through the pin-striped corridors of Whitehall, President Xi Jinping has undertaken an unannounced state visit to Pyongyang. The mere thought of the Great Helmsman and the Dear Leader breaking bread, probably over a banquet of kimchi and kowtow, has our mandarins reaching for the smelling salts. One can almost hear the collective sharp intake of breath from the Foreign Office, followed by the frantic rustling of papers as they scramble to update their ‘What If The World Goes Completely Bonkers’ contingency plans.
Let us not be coy. This is not a friendly chat about the weather or a shared appreciation for Soviet-era architecture. This is a seismic geopolitical shift, a reminder that the bipolar world we thought we’d buried with the Berlin Wall is having a rather vigorous second coming. Xi, fresh from a triumphant display of domestic control, now seeks to remind the West that he has other friends, friends with nuclear ambitions and a penchant for military parades that would make a Disney villain blush.
Whitehall, caught between austerity budgets and the lingering hangover of Brexit, must act. But what can they do? Send a strongly worded letter? Express ‘deep concern’? Perhaps deploy the Royal Navy’s flagship, HMS Victory, for a show of force? No, the age of gunboat diplomacy is dead, replaced by the age of #hashtag diplomacy and urgent security council meetings that achieve precisely nothing.
The truth is that Britain, a nation that once ruled a quarter of the globe, is now reduced to playing geopolitical chess with pieces that have been replaced by shopping trolleys. Our allies across the pond are too busy fighting culture wars, and Europe is still trying to figure out which end of the Euro is up. Meanwhile, China and North Korea are forming an axis of authoritarians, a club where human rights are optional and transparency is considered a bourgeois weakness.
But fear not, dear reader, for I have a plan. It involves deploying a delegation of our finest gin-soaked journalists to Pyongyang, armed with nothing but a copy of the Geneva Convention (for lighting cigars) and a mandate to laugh in the face of absurdity. We will challenge the Dear Leader to a drinking contest, and when he inevitably passes out, we will replace him with a lookalike who is slightly more amenable to democratic values. It’s a long shot, but it’s no more ridiculous than the current state of international affairs.
Alternatively, we could just accept that the world is changing, that the old certainties are gone, and that Britain must find a new role. Perhaps we could become the world’s leading exporter of polite sarcasm and ironic detachment. God knows, we have a surplus. Whitehall, if you are listening, stop wringing your hands and start thinking. The world is not ending. It’s just getting more interesting. And if you don’t act, you’ll be left holding the umbrella while the storm passes over.
