In a world that is currently flirting with total ecological collapse and the slow, grinding poverty of the middle class, we have been gifted yet another glimpse into the sandbox of the gods. Donald Trump, a man whose primary contribution to the English language is the weaponization of the exclamation point, has seen fit to publish a private text message from Emmanuel Macron. Because, of course, nothing says ‘global stability’ like the President of the United States treating the Élysée Palace like a jilted ex-girlfriend releasing receipts on Instagram. This isn’t diplomacy; it’s a digital dick-measuring contest held in the frozen vestibule of a landmass that neither of them actually owns.

The text, confirmed by Macron’s office with the weary resignation of a parent admitting their child did, in fact, eat the decorative soap, concerns Greenland. Yes, Greenland. The white whale of Trump’s real estate-addled brain. To the average person, Greenland is a vast, icy expanse currently melting at an alarming rate. To Trump, it is apparently the ultimate fix-and-flip opportunity—a chance to put a gold-plated tower on a glacier and charge the Inuit for the privilege of looking at it. The fact that Macron felt the need to slide into Trump’s DMs to discuss this highlights the absolute absurdity of our modern leadership. We are governed by people who treat sovereign territory like it’s a limited-edition sneaker drop.

Let’s look at the players in this tragicomedy. On one side, we have Trump, the archetypal American grifter who views the entire planet through the lens of a 1980s Atlantic City casino developer. He doesn't see a nation; he sees a balance sheet with bad curb appeal. Publishing the text is his way of showing the world he has ‘friends’—or at least, that the fancy French guy who speaks in philosophical riddles still has his number. It’s performative dominance for a base that mistakes rudeness for strength and narcissism for strategy. On the other side, we have Emmanuel Macron, the ‘Jupiterian’ leader who treats every international interaction as if he’s starring in a high-budget cologne commercial for ‘Eau de Arrogance.’ Macron’s office confirming the text is a masterclass in French ‘moue’—a shrug of the shoulders that says, ‘Yes, we are dealing with a barbarian, but we must do so with style.’ Macron desperately wants to be the adult in the room, the intellectual titan of the EU, yet he finds himself caught in a text-chain with a man who thinks the climate is something you can negotiate with a Sharpie.

The Left will, naturally, clutch their pearls and wail about the ‘destruction of diplomatic norms.’ As if these ‘norms’ were anything more than a polite veil for the same greed and incompetence that has always fueled the state. They act as though diplomacy was once a sacred rite performed by stoic geniuses, rather than a series of backroom deals made by men in suits who disliked each other slightly less than they disliked the public. The Right, meanwhile, will celebrate this as a ‘triumph’ of transparency or some other such nonsense, ignoring the fact that their hero is essentially leaking private correspondence like a disgruntled reality TV contestant. Both sides are hopelessly addicted to the spectacle, incapable of seeing that they are cheering for two different brands of the same rot.

And then there is Greenland itself—the silent, shivering victim of this geopolitical stalking. Imagine being the Danish government, watching two men who have never stepped foot on your territory argue over it via SMS. It is the peak of colonial entitlement, updated for the smartphone age. The message itself matters less than the medium. The fact that the fate of Arctic strategy, environmental protection, and international sovereignty is being hashed out in the same digital space where people send memes of cats is the final proof that humanity has reached its expiration date. We have traded the Federalist Papers for the ‘Read’ receipt.

We are witnessing the final synthesis of celebrity culture and statecraft. There is no longer any distinction between a policy debate and a tabloid feud. Trump and Macron are two sides of the same coin: the populist who wants to buy the world and the elitist who thinks he’s the only one smart enough to save it from the buyer. Both are equally useless. Both are equally obsessed with their own reflection in the black mirror of their iPhones. While they exchange polite pleasantries about frozen rocks, the rest of us are left to wonder when the adults will return. Spoilers: they aren’t coming back. They never existed. We are just the audience for a high-stakes episode of 'The Real World: Davos,' and the plot is getting increasingly lazy. If this is the best the ‘leaders’ of the West can do—screenshotting their way through the apocalypse—then perhaps it’s time we let the ice melt and start over with the dolphins. At least they don’t have data plans."