In what can only be described as a masterclass in mixed messaging, Israel has decided to express its displeasure with a new regional deal by turning a patch of southern Lebanon into a smoking hole. Hezbollah, never ones to let a good condemnation go to waste, has duly obliged with fiery rhetoric, while Britain's peacekeeping forces sit there wondering if they should be doing something more productive, like brewing tea.
Let us be clear: the 'deal' in question is about as transparent as a politician's promise on tax reform. Nobody knows exactly what it contains, but everyone is prepared to fight over it. Israel's response was textbook: bomb first, ask questions never. Hezbollah's retort was equally predictable: a flurry of statements so dense with indignation that they could be used as bulletproof vests.
And where does this leave Her Majesty's peacekeepers? Ah, the noble British soldier, trained in the art of looking stern while armed with a rifle and a copy of the Geneva Convention. They patrol the Blue Line, a boundary so named because it makes peacekeepers blue with boredom or, given recent events, terror. Their role is now under scrutiny, because when has a peacekeeping mission ever been simple? It's like asking a cat to babysit a goldfish: everyone pretends it might work, but deep down, we know it's only a matter of time before things go fin-up.
The absurdity of this situation is staggering. We have a deal that nobody has seen, disputes nobody can resolve, and peacekeepers who are currently being treated as either targets or audience members, depending on the day. Meanwhile, the world looks on, tutting softly while checking the latest stock prices. The only certainty is that more bombs will fall, more statements will be issued, and more gin will be consumed in the press room.
This is not diplomacy. This is a Punch and Judy show with real explosives. And Britain, bless its faded Empire heart, is the stagehand holding the scenery together with duct tape and good intentions. We must ask ourselves: when did 'peacekeeping' become a synonym for 'standing awkwardly while things explode'? The answer, of course, is always. But let's not dwell on that. The gin is running low, and there's a new statement from Hezbollah coming in. I can just feel it in my bones. Or is that the gin? It's hard to tell anymore.
