Breaking news from the Levantine theatre of the absurd: Iran, the grand puppet master of Persian obstinacy, has reportedly refused to blink in the high-stakes staring contest that is Lebanon. Jeremy Bowen, the BBC’s man with the weary countenance and a passport stamped with war zones, has confirmed that the mullahs are standing firm. This is a development so predictable one could have set one’s watch by it, or perhaps by the steady drip-drip of geopolitical anxiety that accompanies every Middle Eastern crisis.
The UK and US, those steadfast architects of foreign policy blunders, are now bracing themselves as if for a particularly violent sneeze. The irony is thick enough to cut with a scimitar: we arm, we sanction, we tut-tut, and yet the world remains stubbornly unimpressed. In Lebanon, Hezbollah continues its dance of death and defiance, funded by Tehran’s petrodollars and powered by a deep, abiding hatred of Western interference.
Meanwhile, in Westminster and Washington, grey men in grey suits will convene in grey rooms to produce grey statements calling for 'restraint' and 'de-escalation'. One imagines the Iranian leadership laughing into their saffron tea. They know the West has the attention span of a gnat on caffeine.
By the time this is printed, there will be another crisis in Ukraine, a spat over trade, or a royal scandal to distract the rabble. And so the cycle continues: a cold war in the Levant, a warm war of words elsewhere, and a world that grows ever more combustible. Bowen, ever the professional, will file his report from a bomb-blasted hotel lobby, his expression a perfect mask of grim resignation.
His dispatches are the literary equivalent of a wet blanket: accurate, thorough, and utterly depressing. He will remind us that Iran’s Supreme Leader, a man whose face is a permanent frown, has decided that Lebanon is worth the risk. Why?
Because in the grand chess game of the Middle East, every pawn is a potential martyr, and every concession is a sign of weakness. The West, for its part, will continue to imagine that economic sanctions are a magic wand. It will impose, threaten, and cajole, and Iran will shrug, smuggle more weapons, and twirl its moustache.
This is not news. This is a tragedy performed by actors who have forgotten their lines but are too proud to leave the stage. The only novelty here is the location: Lebanon, that beautiful, broken country that has been a playground for proxy wars since before our leaders were born.
Beirut’s nightclubs will keep thumping, the refugees will keep fleeing, and the politicians will keep lying. And we, the audience, will keep watching, because the alternative is to admit that we have no idea what we are doing. That, dear reader, would be the most honest reporting of all.
But honesty is in short supply in these parlous times. So brace yourselves, clutch your gin, and wait for the next round. Iran has blinked.
No, wait. It hasn't. But who's counting?
