Reporting News and opinions
Donald Trump wanted Greenland. Not in the quiet, diplomatic, “let’s explore strategic interests over aquavit and polite nods” manner that grown-up nations occasionally attempt. No. He wanted it the way a toddler wants the biggest toy in the shop window: loudly, immediately, and with zero regard for the fact that it already belongs to someone else.
It has no postcode. It does not appear on Google Maps. There are no street signs pointing towards it. Yet, whenever one of its inhabitants is caught saying something outrageous or doing something politically or legally questionable, suddenly we are told that the offending words or conduct belonged there.
There is an eternal, almost Newtonian law of modern politics: wherever a politician loudly proclaims they are "standing up for the forgotten working man," you will inevitably find a discreet corner table in a private Mayfair club where someone is eagerly trying to launder foreign money.
A rumour becomes a scandal. A disagreement becomes a conspiracy. An inconvenient question becomes evidence of a plot. An opponent is not merely wrong, but corrupt, compromised, bought, controlled or secretly working for somebody else.
Whether the subject is healthcare, trade, infrastructure, peace in the Middle East or now Iran, there is a familiar rhythm. An announcement. A flourish. A declaration that success is “very close.” Then another announcement. Then another. Like a magician whose favourite trick is promising that the rabbit will appear in just one more hat.
