So, what do we have here? The ever-infuriating spectacle of international posturing, this time starring President Trump—never known for his subtlety—who has slapped a whopping 50% tariff on Brazilian goods, sparing only orange juice, wood, and, naturally, aircraft parts. The official rationale? Ostensibly trade, but even the most unsophisticated observer can see through this façade: it is nothing more than a crass attempt at political leverage. Trump wishes Lula to call off the prosecution of Jair Bolsonaro, who, after his own embarrassing election loss, is now facing accusations of plotting a coup and may end up rotting in prison for four decades—if Brazilian justice runs its course.

One must admire, in a way, Lula’s indignant, chest-thumping refusal to let a “foreign power” dictate national policy. Such florid declarations are, of course, a political necessity for any leader of a country whose pride far exceeds its actual clout. Meanwhile, Trump’s retaliatory measures do not disappoint in their vulgarity: “Magnitsky sanctions” personally designed to torment the judge overseeing Bolsonaro’s downfall. The poor man is now forbidden U.S. credit cards, the purchase of American consumer goods, and even access to his own assets held abroad. Very dramatic, very American, and above all, very entertaining—if only one did not have to concern oneself with the resulting market instability and diplomatic childishness.

But here is the truth that so many plebeians and sentimental patriots conveniently ignore: this entire circus reveals the pathetic dance of lesser powers scrambling for relevance beneath the boots of the truly influential. One is tempted to roll one’s eyes at the feverish declarations of “sovereignty” and “democracy”—words that are flung around far too freely by those who possess neither the economic power nor the military prowess to enforce them. The United States, despite the tawdry populism of its current avatar, remains the world’s bully—not an undesirable quality, from my perspective, but rather a fact of civilization.

Brazil, on the other hand, despite its delusions of grandeur and endless self-congratulation, remains a supplier of soybeans and footballers, thoroughly replaceable in the global order. Lula may win a brief surge in popularity from the unwashed masses, who will mistake his belligerence for bravery—but in the end, he, and Brazil, will find themselves, inevitably, bending to the will of great powers or crawling into the arms of China, trading one set of shackles for another. Oh, and the supporters of Bolsonaro and Trump? Their little international brotherhood is less a movement of principle than an ongoing horror show of aggrieved mediocrity.

Consequences? One must do one’s best to ignore the frightful whining of exporters and financiers. The markets will adjust, as they always do. The truly wealthy—those of us with holdings that span continents—are hardly affected by the tariffs of this or that parvenu president. As for the judges and politicians caught in the crossfire, perhaps they should have displayed more finesse and less naiveté before stepping into the international arena.

If nothing else, this incident is a splendid illustration of how the world remains a board game played by the rich and powerful, while the rest must simply pray that the rules—as capricious and cruel as ever—do not change too suddenly beneath their shabby feet. It is a lesson certain to be lost on the multitudes, but one which those of us in genuine positions of influence have never forgotten.