In a stunning display of diplomatic theatre that would make a Punch and Judy show look like high art, Her Majesty's Government has had the audacity to wag a disapproving finger at the United Nations over the Myanmar military's latest hobby: industrial-scale slaughter. Apparently, 700 corpses over six months is a bit much for the genteel sensibilities of Whitehall, who've now demanded the UN 'take action' in the same tone one might ask a waiter to remove a fly from one's soup.
Let's be clear about the body count here. That's 700 souls, roughly the population of a small English village, turned into fertilizer by a junta that treats human rights like a discarded takeaway wrapper. But instead of anything resembling a backbone, the UK's response is to pen a strongly worded letter to the UN, the same UN that couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery if the keg was on fire. It's like asking a paraplegic to run a marathon: noble in intent, comical in execution.
Now, I don't wish to sound cynical. After all, the UK has form for getting the UN to 'do something'. Remember Rwanda? Remember Srebrenica? The UN's 'action' was about as effective as a chocolate teapot in a heatwave. But this time, by God, we'll have a special committee, a fact-finding mission, and probably a branded tote bag to show for our efforts. Meanwhile, the Myanmar army will continue its rampage, no doubt pausing only to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
What the UK should do, instead of playing at statesmanship, is to get its hands dirty. Arms embargoes, sanctions on the generals' Swiss bank accounts, and a few pointed questions about where their children go to school. But no. That would be 'interference', 'unilateralism', and other such dirty words that polite diplomats avoid like a bad curry. So instead, we get this: a gentlemanly request to a club that has long since lost its membership credentials.
The tragedy here isn't just the 700 dead. It's the living death of international politics, where every atrocity is met with a shrug and a suggestion for 'dialogue'. The UK, once a country that could project power and moral outrage, now reduced to sending strongly worded memos while the bodies pile up. I can only hope the gin holds out, for the sake of my liver and my sanity.
