22/06/2026

MONDAY | JUNE 22, 2026

9

The toll of war fatigue I DON’T remember having such keenness on reading about geopolitics until the recent war in the Middle East. Before that, it was

background noise, the static of a world I assumed operated on some logic I simply did not need to understand. I would glance at headlines the way one glances at passing traffic, acknowledging movement without absorbing detail. The business of think tanks and foreign correspondents felt abstract, almost fictional. A policy shift here, a peace treaty there – interesting, perhaps, but entirely separate from my own atmosphere. Then came the rupture. It has since become a ritual for me – solemn and unshakeable. Every day is a wait with exasperation. I don’t begin my morning with coffee or sunlight anymore. I begin with a silent, anxious communion with my phone. The glow of the screen is my new dawn. I scroll through briefs, parse statements, trace troop movements on interactive maps with fingers that tremble slightly. In the evening, I trade silent text for the urgent cadence of podcasts, letting analysts’ voices fill the room, their words painting pictures of a world I cannot see but feel in my bones. The war began with a rationale stated so forcefully that nobody questioned whether it made structural sense. A massacre of civilians, yes. An act of terror, yes. But the response was not proportionate. It was not surgical; it was a sledgehammer deployed against a swarm of flies, and everyone watching knew it. Four months later, the threat remains, the hostages remain and the bombed neighbourhoods remain rubble. The only thing that has been eliminated is the original justification. It has not been replaced with a new one; it has simply been allowed to dissolve, like sugar in hot tea, leaving behind only the bitter taste of inertia. I watch the man now. The one who initiated this. He appears on screen with the regularity of a weatherman, delivering updates that shift between triumphalism and vague regret. One week he speaks of total victory. The next he acknowledges that victory is “complex”. One month he suggests a ceasefire, the next he escalates. There is no pattern to discern because there is no plan to follow; he improvises. We are all watching a man improvise

The war began with a rationale stated so forcefully that nobody questioned whether it made structural sense. – REUTERSPIC

“The war continues and so do I, not because I believe my attention matters but because I cannot bring myself to look away. That, perhaps, is the cruelest irony of all.

started, acquire a momentum that outstrips any original intention. They become their own justification. They persist because stopping them would require admitting that they were mistakes, and mistakes are not something that this particular man is capable of acknowledging. I still read the news. I still listen to the podcasts. The ritual persists, though the hope has drained out of it. Now, I do it not to understand but to bear witness. Not to find meaning but to acknowledge that meaning has fled. The war continues and so do I, not because I believe my attention matters but because I cannot bring myself to look away. That, perhaps, is the cruelest irony of all. I am exhausted by the war but I am more exhausted by the thought of ignoring it. So, I wait – we all wait – for what, I no longer know, as the world moves on. Happy Father’s Day. Dr Bhavani Krishna Iyer holds a doctorate in English literature. Her professional background encompasses teaching, journalism and public relations. She is currently pursuing a second master’s degree in counselling. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com support charitable organisations and relevant authorities. It can also create important conversations about how vulnerable families can be better protected and supported. No child should suffer because of circumstances they did not choose. No caregiver should feel alone while carrying such a heavy responsibility. The Pahang family’s story is not just about one household seeking help; it represents many families across Malaysia who are facing similar struggles in silence. Their stories deserve to be heard, and more importantly, they deserve action. Daninas Hezry City University Malaysia Cyberjaya from communities,

makes another of his “surprising” announcements and for a brief moment we are jerked out of our stupor, only to settle back into it when the announcement proves to be meaningless. I have stopped watching the news first thing in the morning and do so much later in the day. This is not a political statement; it is a survival mechanism. I have realised that paying attention does not grant me reprieve. Understanding does not grant me power. The war will continue regardless of whether I track its progress or ignore it entirely. My earnestness was never going to save anyone. The man behind the war claims to have what he calls “insights”. These are moments when he declares that the end is near, that peace is possible and that the fighting has achieved its objectives. Each insight is followed by a continuation of the fighting. Each declaration of victory is followed by a retreat to a new defensive line. The insights are not insights at all; they are performances. They are designed to reassure his domestic audience while signalling nothing of substance to anyone else. I am tired of asking what the point is. The point is that wars, once

with live ammunition. What I find most remarkable is the way his pronouncements are treated by the media. Each new statement is analysed as if it contains hidden meaning. Each contradiction is explained away as “shifting strategy”. But there is no strategy; there is only reaction. The man wakes up, consults his advisors and chooses a tone for the day. I remember a specific Tuesday. The news broke that a deal was imminent, hostages would be released, fighting would pause and the region would exhale. I allowed myself, for approximately four hours, to feel something resembling hope. Then the deal collapsed. The reason given was that one side had “moved the goalposts”. The truth is that the goalposts were never anchored to anything solid. They were painted on cardboard and carried by the wind. This has happened several times in the past months. The war has become a ritual without meaning. We wake, we check the news and see that nothing has changed except the body count. We go to work, we return home and we do it again. The conflict has settled into a rhythm that is almost comfortable in its predictability. The only disruption is when the man

LETTERS letters@thesundaily.com

Struggling families we keep overlooking A RECENT case involving a family in Pahang has once again highlighted a painful reality that many Malaysians choose not to see. their careers, personal lives and financial stability simply to ensure that their children receive the care they need. What makes this case especially

facing the same difficulties long after the headlines disappear. The reality is that many Malaysians caring for disabled children, elderly relatives or family members with serious health conditions are quietly struggling every day. More importantly, these cases need to be brought to light because they reveal gaps in our support systems. While assistance programmes exist, there are clearly families who still fall through the cracks. Whether it is due to strict eligibility requirements, administrative challenges or other factors, the end result remains the same. Families who desperately need help are left feeling abandoned and unheard. As a society, we cannot continue waiting for cases to go viral before taking notice. Greater awareness can encourage more

The family reportedly appealed for urgent assistance after the child’s mother allegedly abandoned a special needs child. Adding to their hardship, they claimed that their application for aid through the Department of Social Welfare was apparently unsuccessful, leaving them struggling to meet basic daily needs. When I first came across the story, I could not help but wonder how many other families are facing similar situations. While this particular case has gained traction on social media, countless others remain hidden behind closed doors. Families caring for children with disabilities often face enormous emotional, physical and financial challenges. Many caregivers sacrifice

heartbreaking is that a vulnerable child is caught in the middle of circumstances beyond their control. Children with special needs require consistent support, medical care, therapy and a stable environment. When a family is already struggling financially, the burden becomes even heavier. For some, every ringgit matters. A rejected aid application can mean the difference between accessing essential support and going without it. This is why stories like this should not be treated as temporary social media trends; they should serve as a wake-up call for all of us. Too often, public attention shifts away after a few days while the families involved continue