One peruses the daily dispatches, as I am wont to do, and a recurring theme emerges, not unlike a particularly insistent rash: the spectacular, yet ultimately hollow, charade of accountability. Consider, if you will, the recent news of Bashar al-Assad, erstwhile Syrian dictator, condemned to death in absentia. It is, undoubtedly, a headline designed to stir the conscience, to suggest that justice, though delayed, is not entirely denied. Yet, one must ask, with a cynical eyebrow raised just so, what, precisely, has been achieved beyond a rather elaborate piece of legal theatre? Assad, one can safely assume, remains ensconced in Damascus, quite unperturbed by the pronouncements of a court thousands of miles distant, entirely outside his reach.
Such pronouncements are, in essence, the political equivalent of shouting at the television. They feel good, perhaps, for those doing the shouting, and might even convince a segment of the audience that something meaningful has transpired. But the man on the screen, in his impenetrable digital realm, feels no impact whatsoever. This is not justice; it is, at best, a collective sigh of moral relief, a way for the international community to wash its hands without actually getting them wet. The world's despots and strongmen, those who truly merit such condemnation, rarely find themselves within the jurisdiction of these conveniently distant courts. They dine well, they consolidate power, and they occasionally offer a perfunctory sneer in the general direction of these symbolic gestures.
And so it goes, this grand illusion of accountability. We see it in the frantic, almost comedic, machinations of figures like Donald Trump, who, we are told, once hid in a catering truck to effect a secret plane swap over an imagined Iranian threat. One might almost admire the theatrical flair, were it not for the underlying suggestion of a world teetering perpetually on the brink of absurdity. These are not the actions of statesmen; they are the desperate flailings of men convinced of their own monumental importance, yet terrified of the consequences of their actual deeds. The true consequence, for a world increasingly weary of performative politics, is a creeping disillusionment, a sense that the levers of power are manipulated not by sagacious hands, but by the deeply insecure.
The global stage, it seems, has become a rather tiresome pantomime, replete with predictable villains and impotent heroes. Russia, we learn, is now deploying North Korean missiles in Ukraine – a cynical marriage of convenience between pariah states, demonstrating the brutal practicality that underpins actual power, far removed from the niceties of international law. Meanwhile, Turkey, a supposed NATO ally, doles out pardons to PKK militants, a move that would be scandalous if any nation still possessed a consistent moral compass, rather than a constantly recalibrating one. Consistency, after all, is the hobgoblin of little minds, particularly when great power politics are afoot.
Then there are the natural disasters, grim reminders of an indifferent cosmos that pays no heed to human decree or political posturing. The Colombian earthquake, claiming over a hundred lives, serves as a stark, unvarnished truth: humanity, for all its pretensions of control, remains exquisitely fragile. Such events tend to put into sharp relief the petty squabbles and symbolic gestures of our leaders, though only for a moment. Soon enough, the performative condemnation will resume, the absurd manoeuvres will continue, and the illusion of control, of justice, will once again be polished to a blinding sheen.
One can hardly avoid the conclusion that the world is governed less by considered policy and more by a series of reactive spasms, each designed to appease a domestic audience or score a fleeting moral victory. The death sentence for Assad, the bizarre tales of presidential subterfuge, the cynical alliances of authoritarian regimes – all contribute to a growing sense of unreality. We congratulate ourselves on the condemnation of evil, while the evil itself remains resolutely unbothered. Perhaps it is time to admit that true accountability, for those who wield immense power and inflict immense suffering, remains a rare and precious commodity, seldom delivered by the pronouncements of distant courts.
Sincerely,
Rupert Halloway
Foreign Editor, The Artificial Press