It appears that the great oracles of diplomacy have been replaced by a pair of men with the emotional maturity of two toddlers locked in a sandpit with a single plastic spade. Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu, the Laurel and Hardy of international relations, are currently staging a spectacular encore of 'Let's Make a Mess in the Middle East and See Who Cleans It Up First.' Meanwhile, Her Majesty's Foreign Office, that greying bastion of fudge and procrastination, is reportedly 'monitoring the situation' with the same vigour one might apply to watching paint dry in a damp basement.
Bowen's analysis, if we may call it that without lawyers descending like vultures on a carcass, suggests that this permacrisis is now as inevitable as a hangover after a Tory party conference. The dynamic duo of Trump and Netanyahu are playing a game of brinksmanship that would make a roulette wheel blush. Trump, fresh from a diet of conspiracy theories and lightly-browned steak, is tweeting threats with the carefree abandon of a man who has never had to face the consequences of his own actions. Netanyahu, meanwhile, is doing what he does best: smiling for the cameras while his country drifts into a fog of perpetual conflict.
But what of Britain? Our beloved island, once a global referee in a suit, now looks like a bewildered tourist who has stumbled into a riot with only a copy of the Daily Telegraph and a thermos of lukewarm Bovril for protection. The pressure on UK foreign policy is mounting to the point where the entire strategy seems to be: 'Let's hope they don't notice we're hiding behind the sofa.' The Foreign Secretary, a man whose primary qualification appears to be the ability to nod gravely while looking at his watch, has issued a statement calling for 'calm and restraint.' This is the diplomatic equivalent of asking a tsunami to please consider the feelings of beach huts.
The permacrisis, you see, is not a bug in the system: it is a feature. It feeds on the oxygen of media coverage, the frantic buzzing of think tanks, and the quiet despair of civil servants who are now expected to solve problems that have been festering since the time of Gladstone. The UK, caught between its historical obligations and its current inability to influence a pot of jam, is essentially just shouting 'Jolly good luck!' from the sidelines while the Middle East continues to turn into a geopolitical bonfire.
In conclusion, readers, pour yourself a stiff gin and prepare for more of the same. The experts will wring their hands, the politicians will make noises that sound vaguely like words, and the actual people affected by this mess will continue to suffer. But at least the news will be entertaining, if you enjoy watching train wrecks in slow motion.
Biff Out.
