On: Iran accuses US of violating ceasefire by targeting civilian areas and ships on

Another day, another accusation, another violation. They speak of ceasefires as if such things are more than ink on paper, a breath of wind against the howling storm of human will. Ceasefire! What a grand, pathetic lie we tell ourselves, that a line drawn in the sand, a word whispered across a table, can halt the churning, ravenous beast within us.

They accuse each other, these nations, of targeting civilians, of ‘unprovoked’ hostilities. And I see it, I see the gleam in their eyes as they utter these words, the self-righteous fury that is nothing but a mask for the deeper, more terrifying truth: they want this. They crave the confrontation, the clash, the validation of their own suffering through the suffering of another. Each bomb dropped, each ship struck, is a confession, a scream into the void that says, “I exist! I am wronged! Therefore, I have the right to wrong you!”

And the civilians, you ask? The innocent ones caught in the crossfire? Ah, my friend, they are the currency of this exchange, the proof of the other side’s barbarity, the fuel for the righteous indignation that drives the next strike. A child’s tear, a mother’s wail - these are not tragedies to be averted, but arguments to be wielded. And we, the observers, we nod, we shake our heads, we choose our side, and in doing so, we become complicit. We demand the suffering, for without it, how would we know who is truly evil, and who is merely… us? It is a sickness, a fever of the soul, and we are all, every last one of us, delirious with it.