Dr Aboul Aish is a Hebrew-speaking Arab doctor who worked in Gaza during the recent Israeli assault and also gave regular reports by phone to Israeli TV. Apparently his reports made him a ‘popular fixture’ as Israelis followed the demolition of Gaza on their screens.

Shortly before the end of the three week attack, an Israeli TV channel interrupted an interview with ‘no civilian casualities‘ Tsipi Livni to bring viewers a call from the doctor, live to air. Be warned… it’s upsetting! This is a news story that caused a visibly-upset presenter to leave his post.

Perhaps this clip is highly atypical – but it suggests Israelis may have been getting less sanitised information about the attack than most of us in the ‘western world’. So it’s puzzling to outsiders like me how Israeli public opinion was not utterly revolted by what it’s army did in Gaza.

Is Israel a culture that’s lost its collective mind? Even though individual Israelis are still capable of acts of kindness and empathy, is group paranoia and the endless demand for tribalistic vengeance completely out of control?

Contemporary Israeli society is the product of inter-generational, now seemingly endless war-fever. The more humane Israelis – and all too many of their supporters outside Israel – weep from time to time about what ‘happens’ to Palestinians, but the great majority carry on supporting policies and voting in politicians that do it.

Einstein’s famous definition of insanity springs to mind: “Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

For broader insight into the 120+ year history of the Zionist project in its broader international context, check out The Walrus and The Carpenter.

Lewis Carroll’s ballad from Alice Through the Looking-Glass first portrays an inverted and barren dystopia and characters who long to remake the world for quite inexplicable reasons. Then they meet their future lunch. We’ll take up the story there…

“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head–
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat–
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more–
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why the sea is boiling hot–
And whether pigs have wings.”

“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed–
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”

“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.
“Do you admire the view?

“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf–
I’ve had to ask you twice!”

"It seems a shame!"

“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none–
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.