In a move that has stunned absolutely no one, Benjamin Netanyahu has reportedly ordered the Israeli Defence Forces to seize 70% control of the Gaza Strip. The announcement came during a press conference where the Prime Minister stood beside a map of the region that looked like it had been drawn by a toddler with a grudge. 'We shall have the 70%,' he declared, pausing only to adjust his tie, which was slightly looser than the Geneva Conventions would recommend. The remaining 30%, presumably, is to be used for a car park or a small business park selling falafel and despair.
Meanwhile, the United Kingdom, ever the global conscience, has issued what it calls 'urgent restraint.' This restraint, as translated from Whitehall-speak, means that some mid-level diplomat will be dispatched to shake a disappointed finger at both sides. Foreign Secretary James Cleverly was seen clutching a teacup with the intensity of a man who knows his words will do precisely bugger-all. 'We call for an immediate de-escalation,' he said, which is diplomatic code for 'Please stop doing the thing you are absolutely going to continue doing.'
The humanitarian crisis, already a five-alarm fire, has now become a nine-alarm fire with a side of arson. Hospitals are running on generator fumes and prayers. Aid workers, those brave fools, are trying to distribute water while dodging shrapnel and existential despair. The UN has described the situation as 'catastrophic,' which in the thesaurus of international relations is just a stepping stone to 'unspeakable' and then 'our thoughts and prayers.'
But back to the 70%. What does this mean? It means checkpoints. It means walls. It means a generation of children growing up with a primary school education that consists entirely of how to fold a white flag. Netanyahu, in his infinite wisdom, has compared this move to 'pruning a bonsai tree.' The bonsai in question being an entire population of two million people. The metaphor, like the policy, is horrifying if you think about it for more than a nanosecond.
The opposition in Israel, such as it is, has called the plan 'reckless' and 'illegal.' But they said that about the last plan, and the plan before that, and the plan that was announced while everyone was still digging out from the rubble of the plan before that. It's a rondo of rage, a symphony of stupid.
And so we find ourselves here again: With bombs, with statements, with the sharp tang of gin at 11 a.m. because it's the only way to cope with the cognitive dissonance. The UK, having urged restraint, will now go back to selling arms to Saudi Arabia. The US will say it's 'deeply concerned' before authorising more aid that somehow becomes more cluster bombs. And the people of Gaza will do what they always do: Survive, somehow, in the cracks between the great powers' indifference.
One day, perhaps, the world will learn that 'urging restraint' is not a policy. It's a paragraph in a soon-to-be-forgotten press release. But until then, raise a glass (preferably gin) to the madness, because that's all we've got.
