The Guardian—that exhaustingly earnest pamphlet for the comfortably panicked—has finally cleared its collective throat to announce that 'quiet diplomacy' has reached its limit. This is, of course, the liberal establishment’s way of saying they’ve spent months whispering sweet nothings into a hurricane and are shocked to find themselves soaking wet and missing a roof. The editorial suggests that Keir Starmer, a man whose primary political skill is being less noticeable than the wallpaper, has a 'duty to be candid' about the global realignment currently being orchestrated by Donald Trump. Candidness, in the context of British politics, is usually just a polite word for 'admitting we have absolutely no plan but would like to sound concerned while we sink.'

One must admire the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of our current reality. We are told that Donald Trump’s greatest foreign policy achievement—at least in his own gold-plated psyche—was inadvertently getting Mark Carney elected as Prime Minister of Canada. Only in the 21st century could a former Governor of the Bank of England, a man whose personality is composed entirely of compound interest and starched collars, become a 'patriotic' symbol of resistance. Trump didn't need to deploy the 101st Airborne to conquer the Great White North; he simply threatened to annex the place, and the Canadian public responded by electing the human equivalent of a spreadsheet to save them. It’s a touching tribute to human stupidity: when faced with a loud-mouthed bully who wants to steal your house, you hire a mortgage broker and call it a revolution.

Now we see Carney at Davos, the high-altitude circle-jerk where the world’s most expensive people gather to lament the poverty they’ve facilitated. Addressing the World Economic Forum, Carney offered what the Guardian calls a 'clear-sighted response' to Trump’s designs on Greenland. It’s adorable, really. The Davos crowd clings to the 'global system' like a child clings to a security blanket that is currently being used to smother them. They talk about 'security and prosperity' as if those things were ever anything more than a byproduct of US military hegemony—a protection racket that has now decided to change the terms of the lease. Trump’s desire for Greenland isn't a policy; it’s a real estate impulse. He looks at a map and sees a backyard he hasn’t built a casino on yet. To respond to this with 'clear-sighted' Davos-speak is like trying to stop a charging rhino by reading it a pamphlet on ESG compliance.

Back in London, Sir Keir Starmer remains the Great British Hope, which is to say he is a man desperately trying to maintain a 'special relationship' with a partner who doesn't even remember his name. The Guardian’s plea for Starmer to be 'candid' assumes that the British public can handle the truth, or that the truth would actually change anything. The 'global realignment' isn't some complex geopolitical puzzle; it’s the simple fact that the world is being carved up by ego-maniacs and technocrats while the rest of us watch from the sidelines, arguing about the etiquette of our own obsolescence. The Left is busy mourning the death of 'norms' that were only ever enforced when it suited the powerful, while the Right is cheering for a man who would sell his own mother for a favorable mention on a cable news crawl.

Trump’s threat to Canada and his appetite for Greenland are merely symptoms of a deeper rot. The post-war order, that fragile glass menagerie of treaties and handshakes, is being shattered by a man who thinks diplomacy is a professional wrestling subplot. And the response from the 'grown-ups in the room' is to hold a seminar. Mark Carney’s candidacy wasn't a triumph of democracy; it was a desperate reflex. People didn't vote for Carney; they voted for a bunker with a pulse. They hope that if they hide behind enough jargon and 'patriotic' rhetoric, the orange cloud will pass them by. It won’t.

So, let us all applaud the Guardian for its brave stance on 'candidness.' Let us watch as Starmer attempts to be 'frank' with a public that is already half-convinced that the end of the world is just another Netflix special. The tragedy isn't that the system is breaking; the tragedy is that we are expected to care about which mediocre steward is holding the clipboard as it happens. Whether it's the beige moderation of Starmer, the cold calculations of Carney, or the chaotic annexations of Trump, the result is the same: a world where the only thing being 'underwritten' is our collective bankruptcy—moral, intellectual, and financial. But by all means, let’s keep being candid. I’m sure the icebergs in Greenland are very impressed by our commitment to dialogue.