Yesterday Mum wasn’t feeling well, so I sent her a bunch of roses from Tynte Street Flowers. You can see them below. If you look closely at the second close-up photo, there’s a rose that I’m convinced must be genetically engineered — it has stripes. Nanny used to grow some like that in her garden, and she once mentioned they were artificial. Whatever they are, I love them.
I reject this — with every fibre of what feels just — because this strike is not just militarily or politically dangerous. It is morally destructive. By launching a strike inside a sovereign state known to act as mediator, Israel shows itself not merely as frightened or bold, but as arrogant — believing itself immune from consequence. It treats international borders and norms as suggestions.
The audacity is staggering. To attack while ceasefire negotiations are on the table, in part brokered with Qatar’s involvement, is to spit in the face of diplomacy and hope. Israel lives with impunity — striking with precision it claims, knowing there may be condemnation, but seeming unwilling to bear any genuine accountability.
Qatar condemned the assault in the strongest terms, calling it a cowardly act, a violation of law and sovereignty.
If we accept this kind of action — an airstrike inside another country working toward peace — without real consequences, what message does that send? That might makes right. That diplomacy is optional. That law, borders, sovereignty are only barriers if the stronger choose them to be.
The whole thing makes me so angry. So much of the world condemned the attack but the United States just fell short of it.
The United States called the Israeli strike in Doha an “unfortunate incident” that does not advance the goals of either Israel or America. President Trump said he felt “very badly” about the attack, especially as Qatar is a close ally and a key mediator in regional peace talks.
Washington stressed that it had only been warned at the last minute, too late to intervene, though a message was passed to Qatar through a U.S. envoy. While reaffirming its support for Israel’s broader security concerns, the U.S. made clear that carrying out such an attack inside the territory of a sovereign ally was deeply troubling and risks undermining diplomacy at a critical moment.
That is simply not good enough. While the United States stands idly by, international law is continually broken and Israel’s behaviour flies in the face of decency and common humanity. By giving Israel impunity for this strike, the United States is effectively saying: you can do anything, and we will not abandon you. This silence is not neutrality — it is complicity.
Israel has a pattern of striking just as negotiations begin to gather momentum. It happened in Doha this September, and it has happened before. The timing is not accidental — it signals a refusal to allow diplomacy to settle. They do not want a ceasefire, not truly. Instead, they reach for force whenever talks are on the table, undermining the very possibility of peace.
We saw this same behaviour in the past with Iran and the United States. At moments when dialogue seemed possible, Israel’s strikes shattered the fragile ground of negotiation. This is not self-defence; it is sabotage of diplomacy, a deliberate breaking of hope before it has a chance to take root.
The whole thing makes me furious. There is nothing anyone can do to stop Israel. Back in 1947, they listened when the United Nations passed Resolution 181, the Partition Plan, because it suited them. Then the UN carried legitimacy. But now, as the UN condemns their actions, as it pleads with them to end the genocide, the apartheid, the violations of international law — it means nothing. They no longer recognise the UN. How can this be?
I follow world politics, not in an academic or formal way, but through my own eyes. I’ve always liked the President of France, Emmanuel Macron, but since the bombing of Qatar someone else has captured my attention and deeply inspired me: His Excellency Sheikh Mohammed bin Abdulrahman bin Jassim Al Thani, the Prime Minister of Qatar.
He is only a year older than me, yet he has achieved so much in his life. What I admire most is his drive to mediate. He has stepped into conflicts across the world, but most significantly he has worked tirelessly between Hamas and Israel. Under his leadership, Qatar has negotiated fragile ceasefires, facilitated the release of hostages, and carried messages between sides when no one else would.
I often wonder what drives people like him. Is there something in it for them? But with Sheikh Mohammed bin Abdulrahman bin Jassim Al Thani, I genuinely believe it comes from decency. I think he believes in peace — and that makes me believe he is a very special person.
Qatar itself seems like a just and righteous country. Small, but so useful and important on the world stage. Its population is only about 3.12 million people, yet its significance is immeasurable, built on a willingness to negotiate with those no one else will — for example, Hamas. And something else I find pretty cool is that Qatar has one of the world’s best airlines, Qatar Airways, and Al Jazeera, which I watch every day.
His Excellency Sheikh Mohammed bin Abdulrahman bin Jassim Al Thani has inspired me simply through his role as a mediator. The way he contributes to the world is by his genuine hunger to broker peace. He seems to live and breathe it, and it feels like his destiny to take on that role — both for Qatar and internationally.
That realisation has made me turn inward and ask what I can contribute. For me, it has to be through letters and artwork. I now identify as an emerging epistolary artist, and I will use my passion for letter writing to draw attention to the genocide in Palestine, to Aboriginal deaths in custody here in Australia, and to our history of Blackbirding.
I believe traditional letter writing is the most powerful medium of communication. My work will be to write these letters, exhibit the responses, and let that exchange itself become art. I know there are legal questions I will need to explore in time, but I trust that part of the journey will unfold as it should.
In other news, my Botswana trip is off. In the end, Maiki had to stay in Tanzania to finish his PhD early, and I didn’t want to go alone, so I contacted the travel agent to cancel. I was worried they might be annoyed, but I’m sure they see that sort of thing every day. I’m hoping to get some of the money back, which I’ll put towards another trip to Cambodia, probably mid next year, to see my two buddies Thy and Tim and finish off my book.
I am sad not to be going to Botswana, but in a way I’m almost glad not to be leaving Mum home alone for three weeks.
I decided to have my oaths book for the Chief Justice rebound. I simply couldn’t give it to him in the state it’s in now. I’ve found a few other bookbinders, more than I realised, and I’ve spoken with three of them.
The first is a traditional bookbinder by trade. He doesn’t have a website, which puts me off because I want to see examples of his work, but he clearly knows everything about bookbinding. When I told him I had paid nearly $800 for the bad binding, he was shocked. He said it was far too much, especially for such poor quality.
The second option is a bookbinding business in Sydney. They seem competent, but they can’t emboss too many words on the cover, which concerns me. That said, I’ve decided to change the words anyway, so perhaps it doesn’t matter. I went back and forth with her yesterday, and she seemed good. She promised to call me this morning but instead emailed to delay until tomorrow, and that put me off — I want someone who will prioritise this job.
The third bookbinder appears traditional as well, and all I’ve seen is their website. But they said they could finish the work urgently, which is what I want — I need the book in the Chief’s hands by December. I feel he may become Chancellor of Adelaide University, and I don’t want to send it to him once he has taken on that role. For that reason, I’ll probably choose the third bookbinder, and I’m just waiting to hear back.
It’s the right thing to do to have the book rebound. I want only the best for him. As for the original book I had done for the Speaker, I’ll give that to him — it’s not as bad as the Chief’s copy and looks reasonably standard.
I’ve had a break from writing, but I just got back from the steps of Parliament House where I went for another vigil for Palestine. I caught an Uber into town and had the chattiest driver I’ve ever met in any taxi or ride. Normally I just want to sit quietly and get from A to B, but today I found something comforting about this man who really was a motor mouth.
He talked about life as an Uber driver — his shifts, women in the industry — and when he asked where I was going, I told him to a vigil. He didn’t know what it was for, but he said it was good that I was doing what I wanted to do. He really was a positive soul.
When I arrived at Parliament House, the woman who organises the vigil was there setting up. I took a photo of a “Stop the Genocide” sign. I know I took one last time, but this one is a little different — it has a photo of the press on it.
I really like the organiser — she’s a cool chick. I don’t know how old she is, probably younger than me, but I admire her. Today she said she wasn’t sure what the turnout would be, but that she didn’t care; she would stand there by herself waving a Palestinian flag if she had to. She also mentioned that they have to book the steps of Parliament House to hold a vigil. I didn’t realise that — I thought anyone could just turn up and stand there.
Today was good. The response from people walking past was mostly positive. There was one woman who kept saying “God bless Israel” quite loudly, but apart from that most people walked past with a thumbs up or a fist pump. Below you can see the view from where I was standing.
I was holding up the same sign as last time, the one about Israel killing journalists. Towards the end of the vigil a young Middle Eastern man came over and asked if he could stand with us for a while. He picked up a sign that said “Free Gaza” and held it up for about five minutes before leaving. I was glad I went again this evening.
