There is a specific, pungent aroma that arises when two rotting civilizations decide to rub their collective sores together in the hopes of creating a spark of relevance. We are currently witnessing this olfactory catastrophe as news breaks that emissaries from the Trump administration—a traveling circus of high-fructose corn syrup and constitutional illiteracy—descended upon the French judiciary to explain that 'corruption' is merely a synonym for 'ambition.' It appears that the American diplomatic machine, in its infinite, blundering arrogance, attempted to lobby against a potential election ban for Marine Le Pen. It is a moment of pure, unadulterated absurdity that perfectly encapsulates why humanity is a failed experiment currently circling the drain of its own vanity.

According to Magali Lafourcade, the secretary general of France’s human rights commission, she was approached by two US envoys who were apparently very concerned that Le Pen’s trial for embezzling EU funds was 'political.' Imagine the sheer, unmitigated gall required for a representative of the United States government—a nation currently treating its legal code like a choose-your-own-adventure novel—to lecture a French magistrate on the purity of the law. It is like a professional arsonist walking into a fire station to complain about the aesthetics of the water hoses. The American officials weren't there to defend justice; they were there to protect the brand. To the MAGA brain-trust, the idea of a politician being held accountable for financial malfeasance is an existential threat. If Le Pen can be banned from office for treating the European Union’s treasury like her personal ATM, what hope is there for the homegrown grifters in Washington who view the public purse as a bottomless buffet?

Marine Le Pen, for her part, remains the quintessential figurehead of the modern far-right: a woman whose entire platform is built on the preservation of 'French sovereignty' while she allegedly pays her party cronies with money stolen from the very European institution she claims to despise. It’s a masterful bit of hypocrisy, the kind of intellectual gymnastics that would be impressive if it weren’t so pathetically transparent. She wants to burn down the house, but she’s quite happy to use the owner’s credit card to buy the matches. And yet, here come the Americans, galloping across the Atlantic on a steed of self-importance to suggest that holding her accountable is somehow an affront to democracy. It’s a charmingly moronic sentiment. They aren’t worried about French democracy; they are worried that the French might actually have the backbone to enforce their own rules, setting a dangerous precedent for the rest of the world’s aspiring autocrats.

Lafourcade’s reaction was predictably French—a mixture of bureaucratic horror and intellectual disdain. She reported the incident to the foreign ministry, fearing a 'manipulation of the public debate.' As if the French public debate isn't already a cacophony of chain-smoking nihilists and rioters who would set fire to a library if someone suggested the cheese plate was overpriced. The idea that two American functionaries could somehow 'manipulate' the French psyche is the most hilarious part of this entire saga. The French have been perfecting the art of political chaos since the late 18th century; they don’t need a couple of guys from a Trump-era satellite office to tell them how to handle a populist in a pantsuit. If anything, the American intervention likely only served to remind the French that, whatever their problems, at least they aren't as loud, obnoxious, or intellectually bankrupt as the people living in the 'shining city on a hill.'

This entire episode is a bleak reminder that we are trapped in a feedback loop of performative stupidity. On one side, we have the French judicial system, a sprawling maze of self-importance that loves nothing more than the sound of its own gavel. On the other, we have the American interventionists, whose only real skill is exporting their unique brand of domestic dysfunction to anyone polite enough to open the door. And in the middle, we have Marine Le Pen, a professional grievance-monger who treats the law as a minor inconvenience to her destiny. There are no heroes here. There are only various flavors of entitlement clashing in a vacuum of actual morality. The US envoys thought they were playing 4D chess; in reality, they were playing tic-tac-toe on a whiteboard with a permanent marker. They’ve managed to turn a simple corruption trial into a geopolitical comedy of errors, proving once and for all that when it comes to the decline of the West, everyone is equally committed to making it as embarrassing as possible. We are watching the masters of two different types of failure try to collaborate on a screenplay for the end of the world. It’s a pity the writing is this bad.