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John Pilger on the Dagan Plan and Gaza under fire

Every war Israel has waged since 1948 has had the same objective: expulsion of the native people. 

"When the truth is replaced by silence," the Soviet dissident Yevgeny Yevtushenko said, "the silence is a lie." It may appear that the silence on Gaza is broken. The small cocoons of murdered children, wrapped in green, together with boxes containing their dismembered parents, and the cries of grief and rage of everyone in that death camp by the sea can be witnessed on al-Jazeera and YouTube, even glimpsed on the BBC. But Russia's incorrigible poet was not referring to the ephemera we call news; he was asking why those who knew the why never spoke it, and so denied it. Among the Anglo-American intelligentsia, this is especially striking. It is they who hold the keys to the great storehouses of knowledge: the historiographies and archives that lead us to the why.

They know that the horror now raining on Gaza has little to do with Hamas or, absurdly, "Israel's right to exist". They know the opposite to be true: that Palestine's right to exist was cancelled 61 years ago and that the expulsion and, if necessary, extinction of the indigenous people was planned and executed by the founders of Israel. They know, for example, that the infamous "Plan D" of 1947-48 resulted in the murderous depopulation of 369 Palestinian towns and villages by the Haganah (Israeli army) and that massacre upon massacre of Palestinian civilians in such places as Deir Yassin, al-Dawayima, Eilaboun, Jish, Ramle and Lydda are referred to in official records as "ethnic cleansing". Arriving at a scene of this carnage, David Ben-Gurion, Israel's first prime minister, was asked by a general, Yigal Allon: "What shall we do with the Arabs?" Ben-Gurion, reported the Israeli historian Benny Morris, "made a dismissive, energetic gesture with his hand and said, 'Expel them'".

The order to expel an entire population "without attention to age" was signed by Yitzhak Rabin, a future prime minister promoted by the world's most efficient propaganda as a peacemaker. The terrible irony of this was addressed only in passing, such as when the Mapam party co-leader Meir Ya'ari noted "how easily" Israel's leaders spoke of how it was "possible and permissible to take women, children and old men and to fill the road with them because such is the imperative of strategy. And this we say . . . who remember who used this means against our people during the [Second World] War . . . I am appalled."

Every subsequent "war" Israel has waged has had the same objective: the expulsion of the native people and the theft of more and more land. The lie of David and Goliath, of perennial victim, reached its apogee in 1967 when the propaganda became a righteous fury that claimed the Arab states had struck first against Israel. Since then, mostly Jewish truth-tellers such as Avi Shlaim, Noam Chomsky, Tanya Reinhart, Neve Gordon, Tom Segev, Uri Avnery, Ilan Pappé and Norman Finkelstein have undermined this and other myths and revealed a state shorn of the humane traditions of Judaism, whose unrelenting militarism is the sum of an expansionist, lawless and racist ideology called Zionism. "It seems," wrote the Israeli historian Pappé on 2 January, "that even the most horrendous crimes, such as the genocide in Gaza, are treated as discrete events, unconnected to anything that happened in the past and not associated with any ideology or system . . . Very much as the apartheid ideology explained the oppressive policies of the South African government, this ideology - in its most consensual and simplistic variety - allowed all the Israeli governments in the past and the present to dehumanise the Palestinians wherever they are and strive to destroy them. The means altered from period to period, from location to location, as did the narrative covering up these atrocities. But there is a clear pattern [of genocide]."

In Gaza, the enforced starvation and denial of humanitarian aid, the piracy of life-giving resources such as fuel and water, the denial of medicines, the systematic destruction of infrastructure and killing and maiming of the civilian population, 50 per cent of whom are children, fall within the international standard of the Genocide Convention. "Is it an irresponsible overstatement," asked Richard Falk, UN special rapporteur for human rights in the occupied Palestinian territories and international law authority at Princeton University, "to associate the treatment of Palestinians with this criminalised Nazi record of collective atrocity? I think not."

In describing a “holocaust-in-the making”, Falk was alluding to the Nazis’ establishment of Jewish ghettos in Poland. For one month in 1943, the captive Polish Jews, led by Mordechaj Anielewicz, fought off the German army and the SS, but their resistance was finally crushed and the Nazis exacted their final revenge. Falk is also a Jew. Today’s holocaust-in-the-making, which began with Ben-Gurion’s Plan D, is in its final stages. The difference today is that it is a joint US-Israeli project. The F-16 jet fighters, the 250lb “smart” GBU-39 bombs supplied on the eve of the attack on Gaza, having been approved by a Congress dominated by the Democratic Party, plus the annual $2.4bn in warmaking “aid”, give Washington de facto control. It beggars belief that President-elect Obama was not informed. Outspoken about Russia’s war in Georgia and the terrorism in Mumbai, Obama has maintained a silence on Palestine that marks his approval, which is to be expected, given his obsequiousness to the Tel Aviv regime and its lobbyists during the presidential campaign and his appointment of Zionists as his secretary of state and principal Middle East advisers. When Aretha Franklin sings “Think”, her wonderful 1960s anthem to freedom, at Obama’s inauguration on 20 January, I trust someone with the brave heart of Muntader al-Zaidi, the shoe-thrower, will shout: “Gaza!”

The asymmetry of conquest and terror is clear. Plan D is now "Operation Cast Lead", which is the unfinished "Operation Justified Vengeance". This was launched by Prime Minister Ariel Sharon in 2001 when, with George W Bush's approval, he used F-16s against Palestinian towns and villages for the first time.

 

Why are the academics and teachers silent? Are British universities now no more than “intellectual Tescos”?

 

In that same year, the authoritative Jane's Foreign Report disclosed that the Blair government had given Israel the "green light" to attack the West Bank after it was shown Israel's secret designs for a bloodbath. It was typical of new Labour's enduring complicity in Palestine's agony. However, the Israeli plan, reported Jane's, needed the "trigger" of a suicide bombing which would cause "numerous deaths and injuries [because] the 'revenge' factor is crucial". This would "motivate Israeli soldiers to demolish the Palestinians". What alarmed Sharon and the author of the plan, General Shaul Mofaz, then Israeli chief of staff, was a secret agreement between Yasser Arafat and Hamas to ban suicide attacks. On 23 November 2001 Israeli agents assassinated the Hamas leader Mahmoud Abu Hanoud and got their "trigger": the suicide attacks resumed in response to his killing.

Something uncannily similar happened on 4 November last year when Israeli special forces attacked Gaza, killing six people. Once again, they got their propaganda "trigger": a ceasefire sustained by the Hamas government - which had imprisoned its violators - was shattered as a result of the Israeli attacks, and home-made rockets were fired into what used to be called Palestine before its Arab occupants were "cleansed". On 23 December, Hamas offered to renew the ceasefire, but Israel's charade was such that its all-out assault on Gaza had been planned six months earlier, according to the Israeli daily Haaretz.

Behind this sordid game is the "Dagan Plan", named after General Meir Dagan, who served with Sharon during his bloody invasion of Leba non in 1982. Now head of Mossad, the Israeli intelligence organisation, Dagan is the author of a "solution" that has brought about the imprisonment of Palestinians behind a ghetto wall snaking across the West Bank and in Gaza, now effectively a concentration camp. The establishment of a quisling government in Ramallah, under Mahmoud Abbas, is Dagan's achievement, together with a hasbara (propaganda) campaign, relayed through mostly supine, if intimidated western media, notably in the US, which say Hamas is a terrorist organisation devoted to Israel's destruction and is to "blame" for the massacres and siege of its own people over two generations, since long before its creation. "We have never had it so good," said the Israeli foreign ministry spokesman Gideon Meir in 2006. "The hasbara effort is a well-oiled machine."

In fact, Hamas's real threat is its example as the Arab world's only democratically elected government, drawing its popularity from its resistance to the Palestinians' oppressor and tormentor. This was demonstrated when Hamas foiled a CIA coup in 2007, an event ordained in the western media as "Hamas's seizure of power". Likewise, Hamas is never described as a government, let alone democratic. Neither is its proposal of a ten-year truce reported as a historic recognition of the "reality" of Israel and support for a two-state solution with just one condition: that the Israelis obey international law and end their illegal occupation beyond the 1967 borders. As every annual vote in the UN General Assembly demonstrates, most states agree. On 4 January, the president of the General Assembly, Miguel d'Escoto, described the Israeli attack on Gaza as a "monstrosity".

When the monstrosity is done and the people of Gaza are even more stricken, the Dagan Plan foresees what Sharon called a "1948-style solution" - the destruction of all Palestinian leadership and authority, followed by mass expulsions into smaller and smaller "cantonments", and perhaps, finally, into Jordan. This demolition of institutional and educational life in Gaza is designed to produce, wrote Karma Nabulsi, a Palestinian exile in Britain, "a Hobbesian vision of an anarchic society: truncated, violent, powerless, destroyed, cowed . . . Look to the Iraq of today: that is what [Sharon] had in store for us, and he has nearly achieved it."

Dr Dahlia Wasfi is an American writer on Iraq and Palestine. She has a Jewish mother and an Iraqi Muslim father. "Holocaust denial is anti-Semitic," she wrote on 31 December. "But I'm not talking about the World War II, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad [the president of Iran] or Ashkenazi Jews. What I'm referring to is the holocaust we are all witnessing and responsible for in Gaza today and in Palestine over the past 60 years . . . Since Arabs are Semites, US-Israeli policy doesn't get more anti-Semitic than this." She quoted Rachel Corrie, the young American who went to Palestine to defend Palestinians and was crushed by an Israeli bulldozer. "I am in the midst of a genocide," wrote Corrie, "which I am also indirectly supporting, and for which my government is largely responsible."

Reading the words of both, I am struck by the use of "responsibility". Breaking the lie of silence is not an esoteric abstraction, but an urgent responsibility that falls to those with the privilege of a platform. With the BBC cowed, so too is much of journalism, merely allowing vigorous debate within unmovable, invisible boundaries, ever fearful of the smear of anti-Semitism. The unreported news, meanwhile, is that the death toll in Gaza is the equivalent of 18,000 dead in Britain. Imagine, if you can.

Then there are the academics, the deans and teachers and researchers. Why are they silent as they watch a university bombed and hear the Association of University Teachers in Gaza plead for help? Are British universities now, as Terry Eagleton believes, no more than “intellectual Tescos, churning out a commodity known as graduates rather than greengroceries”?

Then there are the writers. In the dark year of 1939, the Third American Writers' Congress was held at Carnegie Hall in New York and the likes of Thomas Mann and Albert Einstein sent messages and spoke up to ensure that the lie of silence was broken. By one account, 2,500 jammed the auditorium. Today, this mighty voice of realism and morality is said to be obsolete; the literary review pages affect an ironic hauteur of irrelevance; false symbolism is all. As for the readers, their moral and political imagination is to be pacified, not primed. The anti-Muslim Martin Amis expressed this well in Visiting Mrs Nabo kov: "The dominance of the self is not a flaw, it is an evolutionary characteristic; it is just how things are."

If that is how things are, we are diminished as a civilised people. For what happens in Gaza is the defining moment of our time, which either grants war criminals impunity and immunity through our silence, while we contort our own intellect and morality, or it gives us the power to speak out. For the moment I prefer my own memory of Gaza: of the people's courage and resistance and their "luminous humanity", as Karma Nabulsi put it. On my last trip there, I was rewarded with a spectacle of Palestinian flags fluttering in unlikely places. It was dusk and children had done this. No one had told them to do it. They made flagpoles out of sticks tied together, and a few of them climbed on to a wall and held the flag between them, some silently, others crying out. They do this every day when they know foreigners are leaving, in the belief that the world will not forget them.

John Pilger, renowned investigative journalist and documentary film-maker, is one of only two to have twice won British journalism's top award; his documentaries have won academy awards in both the UK and the US. In a New Statesman survey of the 50 heroes of our time, Pilger came fourth behind Aung San Suu Kyi and Nelson Mandela. "John Pilger," wrote Harold Pinter, "unearths, with steely attention facts, the filthy truth. I salute him."

This article first appeared in the 12 January 2009 issue of the New Statesman, The destruction of Gaza

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Syria’s world war: how the West allowed Russian and Iran to take control

As the civil war rages on, Syria has become a theatre for great-power rivalry, with Russia and Iran turning cynical opportunism into high policy.

It is getting harder to make sense of Syria’s agony. In fact, unless a distressing photograph of a suffering child – most recently Omran Daqneesh in Aleppo – goes viral and reminds us all for a moment of the human cost, it is probably harder to get anyone to pay any attention at all. The situation is increasingly complicated, politically and morally. There is a shifting array of militias both supporting the regime and on the opposition sides, all with their own internal tensions. None of the external actors seems to be fighting with quite the same purpose as the others. No one is articulating a vision of what a post-conflict Syria should look like: perhaps because there isn’t one, except for the harsh, reductionist version offered by Islamists. The one thing that’s sure is that this conflict isn’t about the Sykes-Picot Agreement, whose hundredth anniversary fell in May, triggering a flood of sanctimonious commentary. The borders we see in the modern Middle East were the product not of a 1916 Anglo-French stitch-up, but of the Paris Peace Conference, the Treaties of Sèvres and Lausanne, the League of Nations mandates, subsequent interstate agreements in the 1920s and sometimes – as in the case of Saudi Arabia and much of the Persian Gulf, or Yemen – even later. Nor is it about Israel, whose own dilemmas seem ever less exceptional as we look at other communal conflicts across the region.

Russia in particular has made cynical ­opportunism into high policy. As a party to the conflict, it has managed in the past year to kill roughly 2,500 civilians, including over 200 children and 28 medical staff (more than Islamic State). But it is also apparently Washington’s preferred partner for peace. Russia has historically had predatory designs on Iran but the latter now lets it use one of its airbases, a dubiously constitutional act that Russia gleefully proclaims to the world, to the apparent disquiet of some in Iran. It is aligned with Bashar al-Assad but also with some Kurds. It co-ordinates tactically with Israel but fights alongside Hezbollah. Russia was previously hostile to Turkey, which opposes Assad but is now trying to halt the advance along the Syrian-Turkish border of the same Kurds whom his air force is bombing. Turkey is making eyes at Iran. And the Chinese have just offered extra training to Assad’s army.

The problem is not that borders are disappearing but that some states are fragmenting within these borders. This produces horrors such as Islamic State and other, publicly more cautious and sometimes divided, but still savage Salafi-jihadi groupings such as Jabhat al-Nusra (JaN) or Ahrar al-Sham (AaS). It also provides other states with an excuse to colonise the hollowed-out husks of their neighbours in ways that might prove far more enduring than the international settlements of the 1920s.

If you happen to be in the Israeli-occupied Golan (as I was recently) and drive up beyond Katzrin to the de facto border with Syria, you can see through field glasses the movement of armed groups associated with JaN or IS. The most significant of these, Liwa
Shuhada’ al-Yarmouk, occupies an enclave in southern Syria, to the south-west of the Golani town of Quneitra, whose main buildings were dynamited flat in the 1973 war. They are surrounded by elements of the Free Syrian Army (FSA) and other armed opposition groups, including JaN.

This is remarkable. This border was for four decades the quietest of all Israel’s frontiers with its enemies. When you ask senior Israelis – civilian and military – what this means for them, they shrug and say things like, “At least they are behaving themselves,” by which they mean, of course, that they are not attacking Israel. But if you probe, you discover a wider unease. This is only partly assuaged by the efforts Israel has made over the past three years to keep tabs on the situation by, for instance, offering medical treatment at Israeli hospitals to well over 1,000 wounded Syrians (by some accounts double that number), mostly opposition combatants. The treatment is delivered partly by Druze doctors whose historically irredentist community straddles the border.

If you go next to Jordan and talk to senior Jordanians, you will detect a similar unease. Some of it comes from the same concern about the threat from Salafi-jihadi groups – the murderous Abu Musab al-Zarqawi was Jordanian, after all – or the continued presence on Jordan’s northern border of increasing numbers of refugees whom the country simply cannot absorb. Some comes from greater Russian activity on the same border, most notably the recent air strikes on the FSA outpost at Tanf, halfway to al-Bukamal,
one of the major crossing points on Syria’s border with Iraq and, together with its counterpart in Iraq, al-Qaim, the nearest hub of Sunni jihadi insurgency. But in both countries there is a feeling that the conflict in Syria may ultimately produce a realignment of forces within Syria and Lebanon that will constitute a far more formidable threat to Israel than anything we see today.

***

This does not mean the continued killing in Syria does not matter. It does and it is shameful. The UN’s special envoy Staffan de Mistura said in April that the total number of deaths had reached approximately 400,000, mostly killed by regime action. Half of Syria’s entire population has fled or is internally displaced. For want of an alternative policy, the US administration has been casting around for ways of bringing influence to bear through Russia, which, alongside Iran, is the main external actor in the conflict. This influence remains focused on combating IS, JaN and other jointly designated armed Sunni Islamist organisations, an appalling group of people, but not the only ones by any means. We have had frequent reports of another proposed deal between the US and Russia under which the two countries together would designate areas where there is a confirmed JaN presence for joint or independent targeting – as well as continuing air operations (few of which have been Russian) against Islamic State. You might think that developments around Aleppo in recent weeks would make this less likely: but in Syria, conventional reasoning has ceased to apply.

In any case, the agreement would have little bearing on the operation of the Syrian air force, which would remain free to drop barrel bombs anywhere it liked – as long as it didn’t get in the way of joint Russian-US operations. It would not prevent any other sort of military activity by Assad’s forces – through artillery bombardments or ground-to-ground missiles, for example, which are already the regime’s principal tactics. Clearly it has had no impact on Russia’s current air operations, which redoubled in intensity after opposition gains in Aleppo in the past few weeks. And it would not obviously reduce support from the Gulf and Turkey for elements of the armed opposition.

The thwarted coup in Turkey will complicate matters further. President Recep Tayyip Erdogan had already been making overtures to Assad – who, when I was ambassador to Syria in 2007, publicly claimed that Turkey was Syria’s best friend in the region. Now resurgent with a newly providential purpose but also conscious of his and his government’s vulnerability, Erdogan may, after purging the army and security forces, decide to focus on the constitution, the economy, his internal enemies and the Kurds, who remain, in his view, the main threat to national security, both inside and outside Turkey. His visit last month to Moscow to repair relations with Vladimir Putin (who has been cultivating the Kurds to spite him), Prime Minister Yildirim’s warm words after Foreign Minister Javad Zarif’s visit to Istanbul in March, and the Turkish army’s support for the Arab/Turkmen intervention in the town of Jarabulus, previously a target of the largely Kurdish Syrian Democratic Forces, all point in the same direction. If that means supporting a militia – Nour al-Din al-Zenki, which filmed its men beheading a 12-year-old boy in Aleppo – too bad. As a result, the Turks’ commitment to the fight against IS (never entirely convincing) – or indeed, to any intervention in Syria that does not serve their own purposes – may weaken further, especially if there are more attacks inside Turkey like the suicide bombing of a wedding party in Gaziantep on 20 August.

There are reports that traces of nerve gas have been found once more in Syria. There have also been claims recently of the continued military use by the regime of phosphorus and incendiary thermite, and by both sides of other chemical substances.

I remember vividly the last week of August 2013, when Assad was going to be punished for stepping over that particular “red line”. I was in Riyadh at the time and involved in seeking, on behalf of the British government, senior engagement by the Saudis in an international response, which they were willing to give. The sense of frustration when the UK and US stepped back was palpable. It was palliated a little by the US-Russia deal to remove Syria’s stocks of chemical and biological weapons material and Assad’s agreement to sign the Chemical Weapons Convention. There have been numerous suggestions since then that this deal was never as clear or complete as proclaimed. But most people shrugged the objections off as the best being the enemy of the good. What was a barrel of chlorine between friends? It was a great international achievement and showed what could be achieved by not doing “stupid shit”.

If the nerve-gas and other reports are true – and a UN investigative report suggests they are – it maybe doesn’t look such a great achievement after all. It may even begin to look like an enabler for Assad – in the same way as all the subsequent little bargains with the Russians do and, indeed, the mother of all international achievements, the Iran nuclear deal. It will also represent yet another erosion of international norms, the very thing that we in the West say we value above all else.

***

As we approach the end of the second and final term of the Obama administration, experience extraordinary scenes at the Republican and Democratic conventions and await the decision of the American people on their new president in November, what does the balance sheet in Syria look like? Not so good – even for those who see Sunni Salafi-jihadi groups as the main enemy. It is true that Islamic State remains under severe pressure in parts of Syria and Iraq and has lost territory, most recently the strategically sited border towns of Manbij, al-Rai and now Jarabulus in Syria, doubtless reflecting an improved US-led military strategy. Yet IS has also shown considerable resilience. The 21 May audio statement by Abu Muhammad al-Adnani, its official spokesman, on the meaning of victory – now amplified by a recent editorial in its weekly Arabic newsletter, al-Naba’ – suggests that IS is preparing to regroup outside urban centres within Syria and Iraq if it loses Raqqa and Mosul – and to send shards of Islamist violence flying in countries across the world through the agency of true believers everywhere. JaN may just have announced a tactical disaffiliation (though significantly not a break) from al-Qaeda, but this is designed to enable the group to hide in plain sight. It continues to grow in strength in north-western Syria and is imbricating itself in the defence of Aleppo, at the heart of the armed opposition groups acceptable to the West. Past Russian air strikes have only reinforced its position: other armed groups are heavily involved in many of the same battles and it is hard to disentangle them. In any case, no one is going to stand idle as the Russians target one of the most effective groups of anti-Assad fighters.

The Geneva III peace talks on Syria have ground to a predictable halt, with the Russians using their willingness to shape the conflict to influence US policy, too. Meanwhile, the humanitarian situation remains appalling. Aleppo remains doubly besieged, in spite of the latest fighting and opposition success in reopening a narrow access point in the south-west of the city. The Russians, supported by Hezbollah and Iraqi Shia militiamen, are targeting the area and their offer of humanitarian corridors and pauses looks ever more bogus. The UN, whose own relationship with the regime has raised concerns, is warning of another disaster in the making as non-combatants in the deeply divided city become trapped between the hammer of Assad and his allies and the anvil of the armed opposition.

***

As we obsess about Sunni violence, Hezbollah continues to prosper. The Lebanese Shia militia has lost large numbers of men – as many as 2,000 since the start of the conflict. That is more than it lost against Israel between 1982 and 2000: there have been mutterings about this in the Shia community in Lebanon. Hezbollah fighters, too, may be starting to blame the Syrian army’s lack of offensive spirit for some of their casualties, if recent tweets from the Aleppo front line are correct.

They have lost senior commanders, notably (in May) Mustafa Badreddine, the successor to the infamous Imad Mughniyeh, as well as lesser figures such as Samir Kuntar, who beat a four-year-old girl to death on an Israeli beach in 1979. Mughniyeh’s own son was killed last year. And the war in Syria is costing them millions of dollars a month, at a time when their business wing is being squeezed by the US and the Gulf Co-operation Council (GCC) – a cost that Iran, under pressure of its own, is helping to meet. But Hezbollah, like the Iranians, can shrug off such losses. The gains it has made in operational capability – command and control, planning, logistics, complex battlefield management and so forth – and in terms of resupply from Iran make up for them. It has probably doubled its available military forces, to perhaps as many as 45,000 troops. It has rebuilt and improved its weapons stocks: in spite of Israeli interdiction efforts, it is believed to hold well over 100,000 short- and medium-range missiles, whose accuracy is much improved. It has become skilled at using UAVs. It is rumoured to have received air-defence systems via Iran. And, in the wider Levant, Russia’s delivery to Iran of the S-300 mobile air defence system this year, as well as Iran’s reported development of a copycat system, the Bavar-373, potentially gives Tehran the capacity to deny access to US and other aircraft, not just over Iran but over Iraq, parts of the Gulf and perhaps, in the future, Syria.

The Lebanese Shias have no serious political alternative, and no other community in their country can compete. As their armed militia’s presence in Syria corrodes the communal consent on which Lebanon’s own political system rests, their ambitions, like those of their patron and now partner Iran, may be growing.

***

When the conflict ends or stabilises, as one day it will, Hezbollah will almost certainly be militarily stronger, unless Assad loses. It is unlikely to believe in a federal solution in Syria any more than its analogues do in Iraq. Admittedly, it would be easier to achieve such a structure in Iraq, where federalism is enshrined in the constitution and already applies in the Kurdish north. But federalism is anathema to Assad. And in both places, a solution that places real power in the hands of a central authority dependent on Iran is almost certainly the preferred goal. If that entails managing continued low-level conflict with Sunni insurgent groups, so be it.

In the longer run, the big targets remain Israel, the US and its regional partners. Hezbollah and Iran have lost a huge amount of support in the wider Islamic Middle East because of their sectarian involvement in Lebanon, Syria and Iraq. This has not stopped them persistently trying to make mischief: indeed, it, and power games within Iran’s highly competitive governing elite, may be precisely why they do so. That in turn is one reason why the GCC states are now taking unprecedented action against them.

But Hezbollah can live with this. Assad has reinforced his hold on Damascus with its help and is likely to remain dependent on it for the foreseeable future. It has made the protection of the Shia shrines in Syria a religious mission. It is still trying to recruit sympathisers within the occupied Palestinian territories: the Israelis recently discovered a cache of Hezbollah explosives on their side of the border. More broadly, the public appearance in Quneitra of Mohammad Reza Naghdi, the commander of the Basij – a force brigaded under the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) – peering back through his own field glasses towards the watchers on the other side of the border, and the extraordinary report that the Iranian ambassador in Damascus has taken it upon himself to appoint a new head of the Assad regime’s National Defence Forces in the nearby Druze city of Suwayda, show clear intent. And if at some point in the not-too-distant future Hezbollah and Iran are able to launch new operations against or even inside Israel from secured positions in southern Syria, the picture might change again rapidly. With or without nerve gas.

In the end, the struggle against Sunni jihadis will be long and brutal. But there is an answer available if the region’s states – notably Iraq, which in my view is still just about salvageable if we focus properly on the endgame after Mosul – are prepared to reintegrate disaffected Sunnis effectively into their domestic political processes. An Iranian-backed victory for the Assad regime in Syria would make this far more difficult.

The consequences of this struggle that we face in the West are horrific but not a threat to our existence (unless we allow them to be so) and manageable with patient and better-resourced intelligence and police work, better communications and popular resilience.

The battle against Iran’s militiafication of states in the Middle East is less tractable. Iran itself is built on this model. Its deep security state uses it to suppress internal dissent and block reformists. It exported it decades ago to Lebanon. In Iraq, the Iranian-backed Shia militias that constitute the most significant part of al-Hashd al-Sha’abi (the “popular mobilisation”) recently claimed that they were brigaded by Prime Minister Abadi with the rest of Iraq’s official military and counterterrorism forces some months ago. Whatever Abadi’s intentions may have been, they will seek to exploit this to secure a role in any assault on Mosul, the most symbolically resonant Sunni city in Iraq.

The Kurds will, as always, be caught in the middle, trying to play off more powerful ­actors against each other, perhaps tempted to seek sponsorship from Iran and Russia, and surrounded by hostile Arab communities in a cycle of displacement and revenge.

In the absence of the US, all this allows an amplification of Iranian influence across the region that in some ways poses a more general threat to the Middle Eastern order – because it is part of a long-term, transnational design backed by a powerful state – than any other. If Iran can make its projection of power through zombie states and sectarian non-state actors a permanent feature of the landscape, it would be a great achievement, overturning a hundred years of a more or less stable (if unsatisfactory) interstate Arab acquis. This would also prepare the ground for new sorts of conflict within and between states and prove very hard to undo.

That is the source of tensions between Iran and the Sunni Gulf states, which has led the latter – disappointed in the US, rebuffed by Russia but welcomed by Israel – to seek support in surprising places. It is one of the factors in the war in Yemen, which has led to accusations that Saudi-led forces have unlawfully targeted civilians and contributed to the creation of another humanitarian catastrophe. Without political change at the centre, it may lead to Shia-on-Shia conflict over the spoils of a post-Mosul Iraqi state. It has led to war before between Israel, Hezbollah and, indeed, Hamas. It will do so again. Next time will probably be worse. The capacities of all sides have been strengthened. And, given the internationalisation of the Syrian conflict, it will prompt far more states and non-state actors to make unexpected alignments. This will be a new form of instability in the region.

The Middle East will be a huge challenge for whoever is elected the new president of the United States. The usual American approach to conflict management in the region, which rested on clear political resolve, may no longer work: if Russia now shapes the battle space in Syria, who will shape it in Gaza and northern Israel? It will be a challenge for the European Union, which is intimately affected by the collapse of Arab states. And it will be a challenge for a British government that wants to show it is not retreating from a world it helped to shape – only not through Sykes-Picot.

John Jenkins is the executive director of the International Institute for Strategic Studies – Middle East. He is a former British ambassador to Saudi Arabia, Libya, Iraq, Syria and Burma and a former consul general in Jerusalem

This article first appeared in the 01 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Syria's world war