MANILA, Philippines – The grim reaper has been doing overtime at a school here, clocking in three fresh souls in what locals are calling a ‘shooting.’ Meanwhile, back in the motherland, our own counter-terror chaps have been dispatched not to stop bullets, but to share lessons on how to stop bullying and violence. Because nothing says ‘we care’ like a PowerPoint presentation on the perils of name-calling while bodies are still warm.
Let us paint you a picture: a schoolyard in the Philippines, where the air is thick with the scent of mangoes and the sound of gunfire. Three dead, and our UK experts are scuttling in with their clipboards and their insights on ‘effective conflict resolution.’ It’s like turning up to a house fire with a pamphlet on the dangers of matches.
One can almost hear the press conference: ‘We’ve analysed the data, and it seems a culture of exclusion and aggressive banter may have contributed to this tragedy. Our recommendation is more circle time.’ Yes, because the answer to gun violence is clearly a group hug. Perhaps we can teach the shooter to use his words next time. Oh wait, there won’t be a next time for the three who are dead.
This is not to deride the earnest efforts of British experts. They mean well, God love them. But there is a certain surrealist poetry in the disconnect. Imagine if we sent Scotland Yard to advise on how to break up a fight in a primary school playground. ‘Now lads, we find a calm tone is often more effective than a truncheon.’ That is our counter-terror strategy: a warm cup of tea and a chat about feelings.
The Philippines, meanwhile, is a country where gun ownership is as common as traffic jams, and the idea that ‘just get on with it’ is the national sport. Yet here we are, exporting our soft skills like a salesman selling ice to Eskimos. ‘You see, the key to preventing school shootings is to ensure everyone feels included. Have you tried a buddy system?’
It is enough to make a man drink. And I am not one to let a good crisis go to waste. I have polished off a bottle of Gordon’s while typing this, and I can tell you the only lesson I have learned is that we are all utterly, hopelessly mad. We send diplomats to negotiate with terrorists, and we send educators to negotiate with psychopaths.
In the end, the three dead remain dead, and our experts will file their report, and the world will tut and move on. But somewhere, a child who has just lost a friend will be given a leaflet on how to deal with ‘big feelings.’ And that, dear readers, is the grotesque farce we call civilisation.
So raise a glass to the fallen, and another to the absurdity of it all. Cheers.
