The headlines land with the usual flourish of sanctimony. Four dead in occupied Crimea, and London – ever the moral arbiter – demands an independent inquiry. The accusation is levelled at Ukraine, though the facts remain as murky as the waters of the Black Sea. But let us not be naive. In this era of intellectual decadence, we prefer the comfort of a narrative over the messiness of truth.
Consider the historical precedent. When the Third Reich collapsed, the Allies did not waste time on impartial investigations into the bombing of Dresden or the firebombing of Tokyo. Victory had its own morality. Today, we pretend that wars can be fought with clean hands, as if the march of history has ever cared for the niceties of procedural justice. The Victorians understood this; they did not apologise for their empire. They simply built it.
Crimea is a microcosm of a larger decay. The West, having exhausted its moral authority in Iraq and Afghanistan, now plays the role of the schoolmarm, tutting at the misdeeds of others while ignoring its own. The demand for an inquiry is theatre: a performance for domestic consumption, a sop to the ethically anxious. But history will not judge us by our inquiries. It will judge us by our actions – or, more accurately, by our inaction.
The real tragedy is not the four dead in Crimea. The real tragedy is that we no longer have the courage of our convictions. Every conflict becomes a courtroom drama, every death a piece of evidence in a case we are too afraid to conclude. We have become the Romans of the late empire: decadent, ritualistic, and utterly convinced of our own moral superiority even as the barbarians gather at the gates.
Let us be honest. Ukraine fights for its survival. Crimea is a staging ground for Russian aggression. In war, civilians die. It is horrible, but it is not exceptional. The demand for an inquiry is a demand that the side we support be held to a higher standard than the side we oppose. And why? Because we are still haunted by the ghosts of 1914 and 1939, still desperate to believe that our wars are different – more just, more clean – than those of our enemies.
They are not. War is war. It is slaughter. The only question is whether the cause is worth the cost. And if Britain truly believes in Ukrainian sovereignty, then it should stop the moralising and start supplying the weapons that will actually end this conflict. An inquiry changes nothing. It salves consciences. It does not bury the dead.
In the end, the demand for an independent inquiry is a symptom of our age: a preference for symbols over substance, for gestures over grit. The Romans held gladiatorial contests to distract the mob. We hold inquiries. The difference is only one of taste.
