Well here we go again. Palestinians getting stroppy.
There was peace. Then there wasn’t peace. Then an uncaring, posturing world demanded there should be peace again. In less time than it takes to properly assess Hull City’s chances of winning the Champions League sometime soon, it was so.
The peace in question is not peace as we ordinarily understand it. This is Israelist peace. Pax Israeliana. The Palestians accept their submissive place in the de facto one racist state between the river and the sea and desist from being troublesome. It is only necessary that they appear to tolerate their condition. Of course if they can be persuaded to like it so much the better.
There is peace. The strength and health of the peace can be measured by the number of interfaith knitting clubs in and around Tel Aviv. Ideally there will be enough to enable the Israelis to plausably claim that they do indeed have the happiest blacks in Africa.
Now some say the Israelis don’t want peace. This is nonsense. They do want peace. Peace and quiet. Every thief wants to be left in peace to enjoy his ill gotten gains. And, of course, no thief wants justice for obvious reasons.
Tir Tairngire 