On: Iran war: Standoff at Hormuz casts shadow over Iran ceasefire talks

Today, I read of ships seized in a narrow strait, and of peace talks that waver because of it. They speak of a standoff, of shadows cast. I find myself wondering not at the act, but at the reaction. A few men, acting in the name of a state, commandeer two vessels. And because of this, the talks - which involve many nations - are cast into doubt. The arithmetic confounds me. A handful of men with guns alter the course of discussions between thousands of representatives of millions of people. Why do the millions allow the handful this power?

They will call it geopolitics, or strategy, or a show of force. But I see only a habit. The habit of believing that the one who makes the loudest disturbance holds the true cards. The talks were a mutual agreement to sit and speak. Now, because one party interrupts, the agreement is considered fragile. But the agreement was only ever the continued willingness of all to keep sitting. If the others decided simply to continue talking, what could the interrupter truly do? He has only the power they grant him by pausing.

It brings to mind a gathering of friends, interrupted by one who shouts. If all the others fall silent and attend to the shouter, they have made him the center. If they were to simply continue their conversation, his shouting would become merely noise, a baffling spectacle. But they do not. They have been trained, by long custom, to believe that the shouter must be answered, that his disruption is a form of strength that must be met.

I do not understand why strength is always ascribed to the breaker of things, and not to the builders who quietly continue their work. The peace talks are the work. The seizure is the breaking. Why do we habitually believe the breaker holds the key? He holds only a hammer. The key is held by everyone else, in their continued consent to play his game. When will they simply put down the board and walk away? The game only exists while they choose to play.