An analytical essay connecting Chekhov’s The Seagull with Britain’s current predicament, Western misreadings of China, elite-driven globalization, mass migration, climate politics, and the geopolitical symbolism of recent European engagement with Xi Jinping.

On Chekhov’s The Seagull.
Recently, I watched The Seagull on Prime Video, starring Annette Bening, one of my favorite actresses.
For the first time, I felt I truly understood it.
It portrays a world in which ideals, talent, and love slowly and quietly suffocate.
The other day, I watched Pride and Prejudice, with Colin Firth in the leading role.
I then watched three films in succession, all set in Britain of that era.
A moment ago, a certain realization came to me.
Present-day Britain is best described as being in a state of “a drowning man clutching at straws.”
Around 2017, I wrote an aphorism that I believe remains accurate.
“From your windows, China cannot be seen.”
Western countries have long misunderstood China.
In recent years, Henry Kissinger made a serious mistake by reversing his assessment of Japan and China.
That misjudgment has contributed significantly to the unstable and hazardous international situation we now face.
This error was compounded by Kissinger’s most prominent student, Klaus Schwab.
With substantial financial support from China, Schwab reshaped the Davos Forum in ways that consistently benefited China’s interests.
Under the banner of moral universalism, Europe was encouraged to accept mass immigration, leading to deep internal strain.
China skillfully leveraged Europe’s historical guilt rooted in colonialism and slavery.
Europe followed the course laid out by Schwab and China and accepted large-scale immigration.
I have visited London, Paris, and Italy on several occasions.
Nevertheless, I have no desire to visit Europe in its current state.
Beyond this, Schwab and China gained significant influence within the United Nations, institutionalized the COP process, and promoted climate narratives that deserve closer scrutiny.
The fact that Maurice Strong was the original organizer should have raised early concerns.
Today, Prime Minister Starmer, like President Macron of France, has traveled to China with a large delegation under conditions of political pressure.
Britain does not experience the environmental realities of China firsthand.
As a result, China remains largely invisible from their perspective.
They do not see the severity of China’s economic downturn.
They do not see how public sentiment has shifted away from Xi Jinping.
They do not see that the system’s stability relies heavily on pervasive surveillance.
Xi Jinping himself is also under considerable pressure.
Yet this diplomatic performance allowed him to present an image of international deference to his domestic audience.
In this sense, the visit by Prime Minister Starmer and his delegation functioned primarily as a tool for Xi Jinping’s internal political positioning.
Starmer’s government appears not to have understood how limited Xi Jinping’s room for maneuver actually is.
For Xi Jinping, such agreements have little binding significance.
Former close associates have been detained, leaving him increasingly isolated.
A leader facing such uncertainty cannot realistically be expected to honor long-term commitments.
In practical terms, Starmer was used to enhance Xi Jinping’s external image.
China today lacks the economic capacity to support Britain in any meaningful way.
China’s intense response to Prime Minister Takaichi’s entirely reasonable remarks should be understood as domestic political signaling rather than genuine diplomacy.
Chinese citizens today no longer have the disposable income they once did to travel to Japan.
Most can afford only nearby, low-cost destinations such as South Korea or Thailand.
A sharp decline in tourism to Japan would make China’s economic difficulties visible to the world.
This explains the theatrical declaration of “not sending tourists to Japan.”
Nevertheless, the former British Empire, distant as it may be, was thoroughly misled.
To be continued.