Summer doldrums in the Truman Show
The dreaded summer news lull will take on a new meaning in 2026. Because this year, drones and missiles will be falling right through it.
By Alexander Kira
By Alexander Kira
Whoosh! And the spotlight is lying on the street. A spotlight that made film history in The Truman Show. The protagonist is initially just a little surprised, but then very surprised when he reads his name on it. From that moment on, he suspects that something isn't right.
Looking at the Ukrainian president, one can't help but draw a parallel. Or perhaps not. Looking at his understandably weary face, it becomes clear that there's more to it than the exhaustion of three years of war. Inevitably, one thinks: No one told him! No one told him. He still thinks he's living in the sequel to his TV series. He might be wondering about the many cameo appearances from world politics and the elaborate filming on location. But now, a reverse Trumanesque suspicion slowly begins to stir within him that what's around him isn't a film set, but somehow, under certain circumstances, possibly, actually reality.
In television series, ratings are slowly starting to decline. It always happens when success is at its peak. Eventually, all the stories have been told, all the jokes written, and what initially seemed fascinating and appealing suddenly appears familiar and boring. This also often happens in wars. Luc Besson's 1999 film *The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc* has a symbolic scene illustrating this. Milla Jovovich, as Joan of Arc, stands before a besieged castle that simply refuses to surrender. But it cannot be taken either. In the background, a few exhausted men try unmotivatedly to defend the castle, but they seem more like Team Sisyphus.
Zelensky is not to blame for any of this; he's doing the job he was cast for. The blame lies with global politics, which initially patted him on the back before entering a war, only to discover that this very war, for the first time in living memory, is protracted, unheroic, and, unfortunately, deadly. Charmingly, however, not for EU soldiers. The blame lies with Western world politics, which has fallen victim to its own rhetoric of an absolute victory for justice--even though every single history book states that justice benefits neither fallen soldiers nor civilians because, ultimately, it is a perspective, not a fact. These history books also state that virtually all wars end with negotiations and compromise--which, of course, always stands in stark contrast to the initial certainty of an unshakeable victory, much to everyone's surprise.
Sometime back then, in the early months of the war, the European Union should have intervened. Up there in the "moon room," on the 13th floor of the Berlaymont building, in Ursula von der Leyen's mysterious, legendary apartment, she certainly has a broader perspective. The European Union should have--at least out of responsibility for the people dying daily on both sides of the front--brought about a solution using all diplomatic means. A cynic might say that wouldn't have been possible. But it's not just the television industry that is relentless. Apparently, there were still some ratings to be gained, even if it meant sending Ukraine into a war of attrition, as epic as the over 8,000 episodes of "Good Times, Bad Times." Except that this show ends fatally for someone every single day, during prime time. And that's true even if no one watches after the show ends.
So it's hardly surprising that the spotlights above our studio are now coming loose and falling like drones onto Leipzig Airport. Because readers of Philip K. Dick know, not least since his short story "We Can Remember It for You Wholesale," which later became the blockbuster "Total Recall," that the inescapable consequence of recognizing that someone else is living in an illusion is that I cannot recognize that I am living in one myself. Speaking of surprises: I regularly fly weapons from Leipzig Airport to a war zone just one country away. Is anyone seriously surprised that this airport is being attacked (by whomever)?
The final scene is a picture: The Ukrainian president walks alone through the long, nighttime corridors of his command post in Kyiv, like Prime Minister Andreotti in Sorrentino's masterpiece *Il Divo*. This show seems increasingly bizarre to him, the ever more unrealistic staging with missiles, drones, and power outages increasingly unfunny. It becomes ever more incomprehensible that the fans outside his window increasingly resemble protesters. Then the harsh television lights come on--and, as if he learned it at drama school, he's instantly back to his old self. The Truman Show must go on.
The subtext of his televised address could have come from Georg Kreisler's song "Too Quiet for Me": "Because you see, that's life: First you fall for it, then you get stuck." But unfortunately, neitherThis song, this commentary, a happy ending. The whoosh of the spotlight from The Truman Show... sounds suspiciously like a drone.
Epilogue: Recently, Vera Serduchka, the Ukrainian drag pop icon, performed at the Gasometer in Vienna. The unassuming commentator stood amidst the crowd of celebrating Ukrainians, swept away by the show. A little later, he stood in front of the forcibly closed Russian pavilion at the Venice Biennale. Both times he thought: This is all so crazy.
August 11, 2026
Alexander Kira has written provocative works on international human rights protection and is a lawyer, presenter, and cabaret artist. He lives and writesIt lies in the heart of Berlin.
CLICK HERE FOR THE NEW BOOK
Looking at the Ukrainian president, one can't help but draw a parallel. Or perhaps not. Looking at his understandably weary face, it becomes clear that there's more to it than the exhaustion of three years of war. Inevitably, one thinks: No one told him! No one told him. He still thinks he's living in the sequel to his TV series. He might be wondering about the many cameo appearances from world politics and the elaborate filming on location. But now, a reverse Trumanesque suspicion slowly begins to stir within him that what's around him isn't a film set, but somehow, under certain circumstances, possibly, actually reality.
In television series, ratings are slowly starting to decline. It always happens when success is at its peak. Eventually, all the stories have been told, all the jokes written, and what initially seemed fascinating and appealing suddenly appears familiar and boring. This also often happens in wars. Luc Besson's 1999 film *The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc* has a symbolic scene illustrating this. Milla Jovovich, as Joan of Arc, stands before a besieged castle that simply refuses to surrender. But it cannot be taken either. In the background, a few exhausted men try unmotivatedly to defend the castle, but they seem more like Team Sisyphus.
Zelensky is not to blame for any of this; he's doing the job he was cast for. The blame lies with global politics, which initially patted him on the back before entering a war, only to discover that this very war, for the first time in living memory, is protracted, unheroic, and, unfortunately, deadly. Charmingly, however, not for EU soldiers. The blame lies with Western world politics, which has fallen victim to its own rhetoric of an absolute victory for justice--even though every single history book states that justice benefits neither fallen soldiers nor civilians because, ultimately, it is a perspective, not a fact. These history books also state that virtually all wars end with negotiations and compromise--which, of course, always stands in stark contrast to the initial certainty of an unshakeable victory, much to everyone's surprise.
Sometime back then, in the early months of the war, the European Union should have intervened. Up there in the "moon room," on the 13th floor of the Berlaymont building, in Ursula von der Leyen's mysterious, legendary apartment, she certainly has a broader perspective. The European Union should have--at least out of responsibility for the people dying daily on both sides of the front--brought about a solution using all diplomatic means. A cynic might say that wouldn't have been possible. But it's not just the television industry that is relentless. Apparently, there were still some ratings to be gained, even if it meant sending Ukraine into a war of attrition, as epic as the over 8,000 episodes of "Good Times, Bad Times." Except that this show ends fatally for someone every single day, during prime time. And that's true even if no one watches after the show ends.
So it's hardly surprising that the spotlights above our studio are now coming loose and falling like drones onto Leipzig Airport. Because readers of Philip K. Dick know, not least since his short story "We Can Remember It for You Wholesale," which later became the blockbuster "Total Recall," that the inescapable consequence of recognizing that someone else is living in an illusion is that I cannot recognize that I am living in one myself. Speaking of surprises: I regularly fly weapons from Leipzig Airport to a war zone just one country away. Is anyone seriously surprised that this airport is being attacked (by whomever)?
The final scene is a picture: The Ukrainian president walks alone through the long, nighttime corridors of his command post in Kyiv, like Prime Minister Andreotti in Sorrentino's masterpiece *Il Divo*. This show seems increasingly bizarre to him, the ever more unrealistic staging with missiles, drones, and power outages increasingly unfunny. It becomes ever more incomprehensible that the fans outside his window increasingly resemble protesters. Then the harsh television lights come on--and, as if he learned it at drama school, he's instantly back to his old self. The Truman Show must go on.
The subtext of his televised address could have come from Georg Kreisler's song "Too Quiet for Me": "Because you see, that's life: First you fall for it, then you get stuck." But unfortunately, neitherThis song, this commentary, a happy ending. The whoosh of the spotlight from The Truman Show... sounds suspiciously like a drone.
Epilogue: Recently, Vera Serduchka, the Ukrainian drag pop icon, performed at the Gasometer in Vienna. The unassuming commentator stood amidst the crowd of celebrating Ukrainians, swept away by the show. A little later, he stood in front of the forcibly closed Russian pavilion at the Venice Biennale. Both times he thought: This is all so crazy.
August 11, 2026
Alexander Kira has written provocative works on international human rights protection and is a lawyer, presenter, and cabaret artist. He lives and writesIt lies in the heart of Berlin.
CLICK HERE FOR THE NEW BOOK
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