Israel

(Written during the 2006 Lebanon War)

The soil has been overturned again; the little seedlings have been uprooted and lie strewn across the field. Young memories have ceased to record, and only images of their lifeless bodies in concrete rubble remain. Older memories have seen this before and are able to spot them in the ashen-grey piles that used to be their homes. One lies face down, as if he were asleep on his bed at night, all dressed apart from the left trouser leg that was torn off by the blast. Another one lies to his right; a girl this time, she is pulled from the wreckage of her home, by unafraid hands holding her side to stop her intestines from spilling out. Memory can weave a net of security through inheritance over generations, but today it is singed at the ends and forced to retreat into a resistant strand in the fabric. Our greatest resource is being abused by selectivity, and history revised continuously to complement ignorant ambition. The honour bestowed on members of warring governments has all but been consumed by their ineptitude to keep people alive.

The Lowest Form of War

Choosing the ‘lowest form of war’, attacking cities and laying siege, suggests we have arrived at the crux of our conflict. What a privilege! After decades, centuries or millennia, depending on the depth of excavation of our memories, we are here. Finally. The ‘last resort’ may, of course, have been an ill-made decision. But that requires incompetence at the highest levels of leadership, which in turns implies flaws in the structures of our societies. And as we recognise where we are in the societal framework – who provides our ground and who maintains our ceiling – we pan out as far as we can to escape the structure, and before us appear a particularly unattractive three: our society is flawed and worsening; our society is flawed but improving; or our society is perfect. Most of us are soon pulled back into the frame with the cowardly conclusion, ignoring the three, that our society is at least better than everyone else’s.

Next, the Armies

The ‘combatants’’ uniforms have lost their uniformity for recognition, and instead of flags, ideas are flown that cause curiosity across borders and at home. When in peace, what choice do we have but equating crimes with acts of war? Thus undermining the legal powers awarded the most precious civil organisation in our societies, the police, and reducing it to evidence gatherers in the application of our morphed justice since terror. And our armies are not enjoying the elevated position they deserve any more, as heroic defenders of our civilisation. The non-existence of the armies we attack is proclaimed with such success that our soldiers have been turned into hunters, forced to slay weak prey.

Next, the Alliances

And what of the enemy’s alliances, were they attacked before we removed their non-existent armies and arrived at the ‘lowest form of war’? An exactly similar argument to the one above was reached for: they have no alliances, and if an alliance suggests its existence it is deemed too weak. Our democratic societies concentrate power in one, for better or worse, and he receives all focus. But his demand, as he sits down at the negotiating table, that his enemy does not deserve a seat, is so backward a stance that cart before horse has a chance. Where is this tack from? What allows such a distortion of objectives, one of which must be to stop the killing of our children, and the resulting formation of vengeful memories?

The Highest Form of War

The enemy exists and must be defeated. But fighting and winning ‘every battle’ – a war to end all wars – suggests an expected return on investment, or sacrifice, by the involved. An approach of this kind may yield a windfall in enduring peace for some generations, but inbuilt in it is the near-terminal trimming of family trees, the harming of their growth potential and the deformation of peoples. The economic sense in such an approach is doubtful as it will leave at least one set of the speculators with a loss that has to be offset against something in the future; re-investment will always be aimed at recovering loss.

Striving for ‘ultimate excellence’ in warfare will at times be impractical with its call for victory without a fight. But in this ‘highest form of warfare’, where manoeuvres of our brilliant minds replaces our inability to avoid slaughter, only strategy is attacked. And the enemy’s strategy is best understood when standing in his point of motivation. What does he risk losing? What does he stand to gain? Only ‘peace’ answers both questions, in all camps, always; all else is opportunism clad in selective memory.

The original motivation for our conflict, with its corresponding strategy, does exist, and can be attacked, but as we exploit memory, we are left with tactics; a senseless mutual destruction today, according to events yesterday, with no concern beyond tomorrow. The capacity to understand consequences has been numbed by retaliatory and continuous terror. Our torpid state has not enough courage left for a courtship with the enemy. And nearly all hope for the trust the necessary vulnerability a romance instils between two seems lost.

This is as Master Sun said.

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