Here we go again. The great powers of the Middle East, like feuding gladiators in a collapsing Colosseum, have traded blows and now blame each other for shattering a ceasefire that was as flimsy as a Victorian promise. The United States and Iran, each with the moral clarity of a drunkard at dawn, insist the other fired first.
And we, the global audience, are expected to choose a side in this theatre of the absurd. This is not diplomacy. This is a ritualistic dance of mutual recrimination that would embarrass a Byzantine eunuch.
The ceasefire, much like the League of Nations' promises, was a parchment shield. Now it lies in tatters, and the only question is how many more lives will be sacrificed on the altar of national pride. The fall of civilisations, from Rome to the present, teaches us that such cycles of revenge are the death rattle of empires.
We are witnessing the same decadence dressed in drones and sanctions. To understand this farce, one must read Gibbon, not the headlines.
