In the grand, rotting theater of global geopolitics, we are currently being treated to a sequel so derivative and intellectually bankrupt that it makes the average daytime soap opera look like Shakespearean tragedy. Donald Trump, a man whose understanding of geography is seemingly limited to the 'Available Properties' page of a bankrupt developer’s portfolio, has returned to his favorite fever dream: the annexation of Greenland. This isn't a joke, though the reality of it is far more pathetic than any punchline. The orange-hued specter of American Manifest Destiny has once again cast its shadow over a giant block of ice, proving that for some, the 'Art of the Deal' is less about strategy and more about the frantic acquisitiveness of a toddler in a sandbox he doesn’t own.

On the other side of the Atlantic, we have the European Union, a collective of bureaucratic middle-managers who have spent the last several decades perfecting the art of the 'concerned frown.' Leading the charge in this latest bout of performative hand-wringing is Charles Michel, the former president of the European Council and former prime minister of Belgium—a man whose career has been a masterclass in the kind of beige, flavorless leadership that allows empires to crumble while the committees are still debating the font size of the surrender documents. In a recent interview with RFI, Michel declared that this is a 'moment of truth' for the EU. One might argue that the EU hasn't encountered a 'truth' it couldn't successfully bury under twelve tons of agricultural subsidies and non-binding resolutions, but Michel seems convinced that now—after years of being treated like a doormat with a nice flag—is the time to say 'enough is enough.'

Trump’s strategy is as subtle as a brick through a stained-glass window. He wants Greenland, and if the Europeans—specifically the French, who are always the first to annoy him with their insistence on things like 'culture' and 'sovereignty'—don't get out of the way, he’s ready to bury them in tariffs. It’s a classic protectionist shakedown. It is the geopolitical equivalent of a mob boss threatening to burn down a bistro because the owner won't let him put a neon sign on the cathedral next door. France, of course, is the primary target, because nothing fuels the American populist engine quite like the image of a 'strongman' bullying a country that enjoys long lunches and universal healthcare. The threat of hefty tariffs is designed to remind the EU that their economy is essentially a nervous system attached to a US-controlled life support machine.

Michel’s rhetoric, however, is equally nauseating in its futility. To call for Europeans to stand up now is like asking a jellyfish to develop a backbone because the tide is coming in. The EU’s 'sovereignty' is a polite fiction, a costume they put on for summits before scurrying back to their respective capitals to check their bank balances. Michel’s 'enough is enough' is the clarion call of the impotent. It is the sound of a retired bureaucrat shouting at the wind from the safety of a taxpayer-funded pension. For years, the European leadership has allowed itself to be hollowed out, trading strategic autonomy for the comfort of the American security umbrella, and now they are shocked—shocked!—to find that the person holding the umbrella wants to sell their backyard to the highest bidder.

Let’s be clear: nobody in this scenario is a protagonist. Trump represents the terminal stage of American decline—an empire so bored with its own power that it starts trying to buy things that aren't for sale just to feel something again. Michel and the EU represent the terminal stage of European irrelevance—a collection of former colonial powers who have become so addicted to the process of governance that they’ve forgotten how to actually govern, let alone defend their interests. They are fighting over a piece of land that is literally melting away due to the climate change both sides are too cowardly to address with anything other than more empty words.

As the tariffs loom and the 'moment of truth' approaches, the reality is that nothing will change. Trump will continue to tweet—or Truth, or whatever void he’s screaming into this week—about his frozen prize. The EU will hold sixteen more emergency summits, draft a forty-page memo on the 'importance of multilateralism,' and then ultimately do whatever the markets dictate. The citizens of Greenland, meanwhile, are treated as mere set dressing in a play written by a narcissistic real estate mogul and directed by a committee of terrified accountants. It is a spectacle of pure, unadulterated stupidity, and the most tragic part of it all is that we are expected to take it seriously. There is no truth in this moment; there is only the cold, hard realization that the world is being run by people who couldn’t manage a lemonade stand, let alone a continent.