Beirut, Lebanon – In a turn of events so predictable it could have been written by a particularly unimaginative BBC scriptwriter, an Israeli airstrike has obliterated a Lebanese general, reducing him to a faint smudge on history’s windscreen. No, not the Lebanese prime minister, not the nice baker on the corner who gives you extra za’atar, but a general. Because nothing says ‘diplomacy’ like turning a high-ranking military officer into a pink mist, does it? The UK, of course, has responded with the piercing eloquence of a soggy biscuit: ‘Restraint. Restraint is good. Please don’t start a war. We’ve got the Euros on.’
Let us paint the scene. At some ungodly hour, a drone (probably named something twee like ‘Peacekeeper 2000’ or ‘Humble Bumblebee’) spotted the general sitting in his car, perhaps enjoying a quiet cigarette or finalising plans for a family holiday. Whoosh. A missile. A crater. A general who has now been promoted to the celestial rank of ‘Very Dead’. His family, his staff, his favourite pair of socks: all gone, replaced by a hole in the ground and a hole in regional stability.
Now, Israel’s official line, as always, is a masterpiece of understated nonsense: ‘We were targeting a terrorist cell.’ Ah yes, the ‘terrorist cell’ defence. I half-expected them to add ‘and he had a beard and looked shifty’. It’s the same script they’ve been using since 1948, only now with better special effects and a larger body count. But let’s not jump to conclusions. Perhaps the general was indeed plotting something nefarious. Perhaps he was stockpiling yoghurt pots to build a trebuchet. Who knows? The fog of war is thick, and thick with the smell of hypocrisy.
Enter the United Kingdom, stage left, clutching a cup of lukewarm tea and a note of extreme concern. ‘We urge all parties to show restraint and avoid an escalation,’ says the Foreign Office, in a statement so bland it could have been generated by a chatbot on a Tuesday afternoon. Restraint? In the Middle East? That’s like asking a toddler to restrain themselves from eating glue – theoretically possible, but against the laws of nature. The UK’s restraint policy is like applying a plaster to a severed artery. It’s not going to stop the bleeding, but it makes the room look a bit tidier.
And what of the wider conflagration, that delicious word that sounds like a barbecue for diplomats? Hezbollah has promised ‘revenge’ (their word, not mine; my word would be ‘a strongly worded letter’ or ‘a passive-aggressive face on Facebook’). Meanwhile, Iran is probably sharpening its proxies in a basement somewhere, and the US is likely drafting a sternly worded tweet. The whole region is a powder keg, and the UK is standing nearby with a box of matches, saying ‘Please don’t light that, chaps.’
Let us not forget the irony. The UK, which has itself launched airstrikes in Syria, Iraq, and who-knows-where-else, is now asking Israel to be nice. It’s like asking a chainsaw to be a bit more gentle with the tree trunk. The general’s death will be added to the long, mournful list of ‘accidents’ and ‘targeted killings’ that have turned the Levant into a colander. But the show must go on. The news must be broadcast. The tea must be drunk.
So here we are, on the brink of another conflagration, with the UK offering restraint like a lifejacket to a corpse. The general is dead. Long live the general’s vacancy. And somewhere in London, a civil servant is polishing a phrase: ‘We remain committed to a two-state solution.’ Because that’s worked out so well so far, hasn’t it?
Biff Thistlethwaite, reporting from the edge of a very frayed rope.
