There is a specific, refined brand of narcissism that can only be cultivated within the mahogany-lined halls of the U.S. State Department. It is a place where the air is thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the rot of failing empire. The latest dispatch from this tax-funded crypt of diplomacy comes to us via a leaked email from the Bureau of African Affairs, a memo so staggering in its lack of self-awareness that it borders on the transcendental. Our brave new architects of foreign policy have decided that while the actual money for aid is being slashed, the rhetoric of our own 'generosity' must be dialed up to a deafening roar. Because if you can’t provide the bread, you might as well provide an aggressively loud lecture about how much bread you used to provide.

The memo, authored by the bureau’s new leadership, instructs U.S. diplomats to 'unabashedly and aggressively' remind African governments of the 'generosity' of the American people. The timing is, of course, impeccable. As the United States retreats from its role as the world’s primary ATM—leaving a vacuum that is being rapidly filled by anyone with a functional central bank and a lack of moral scruples—our response is not to compete, but to demand a standing ovation for past performances. It is the diplomatic equivalent of a deadbeat father stopping by his children’s house, not to pay the overdue child support, but to show them a PowerPoint presentation of the bicycles he bought them three Christmases ago. 'Look at these gears,' he says, while the power is being shut off. 'Wasn't I magnificent?'

The email specifically highlights our efforts in containing HIV/AIDS and alleviating famine, noting that it is 'not gauche' to remind these countries of our largesse. One must admire the use of the word 'gauche.' It suggests a concern for etiquette that only a true career bureaucrat could maintain while discussing systemic poverty and viral pandemics. In the eyes of the State Department, the real sin isn't the reduction of life-saving funding; it’s the potential social awkwardness of not bragging about it enough. We are witnessing the birth of 'Gaslight Diplomacy,' a strategy where we pivot from being the world’s policeman to being the world’s most annoying LinkedIn influencer, constantly posting about our 'charity' while the staff is being laid off.

This directive is a masterclass in the American pathology of needing to be loved while acting exclusively in self-interest. The Left will decry this as 'racist'—and indeed, the email has already earned that label from within the department—while the Right will likely view it as a sensible cost-cutting measure paired with 'strength.' Both are, as usual, missing the point. This isn't just about race or budgets; it’s about the terminal vanity of a superpower that has lost its way. We have become the aging socialite who can no longer afford the mansion but still expects the neighbors to bow when she walks to the mailbox. The irony, of course, is that 'aggressively' reminding people of your generosity is the surest way to prove you have none. True generosity doesn't require a PR firm or a mandatory talking points memo. It is a quiet thing. But in Washington, quiet things are considered inefficient.

The African nations on the receiving end of this 'unabashed' messaging are not idiots, though the State Department clearly treats them as such. They see the aid cuts. They see the shift in priorities. They see the American empire folding its tent and leaving behind nothing but a stack of brochures about how great the tent used to be. To tell a government struggling with food security that they should be grateful for the 'American people’s generosity'—at the exact moment that generosity is being retracted—is a level of cynicism that even I find impressive. It is a declaration that our moral authority is now based entirely on a historical record that we are currently burning for warmth.

We are living in an era of performative debris. The State Department isn't interested in diplomacy; it’s interested in brand management for a collapsing product. They want the 'gratitude' without the 'expense.' They want the 'influence' without the 'investment.' It is a pathetic spectacle, watching these diplomats being forced to act as hype-men for a ghost. Humanity’s capacity for stupidity is truly a renewable resource, and the Bureau of African Affairs has just struck a major vein. We are no longer a nation that does things; we are a nation that talks about the things we used to do, while demanding that everyone else remember them with a tear in their eye and a thank-you note in their hand. It’s not gauche, they say. No, it’s much worse than that. It’s irrelevant.