A rather peculiar news item caught my eye.

It was about war. But what really held my attention was the fact that yet another new security plan had been devised. It was the word "crocodile" that particularly drew me in.

Serious consideration is being given in Israel to using crocodiles as part of the security measures for prisons holding Palestinian security detainees. Legal preparations have even been made that could facilitate such a plan.

The fascinating thing isn't the proposal itself.

What is fascinating is that a society can apparently reach a point where no one asks anymore whether an idea falls within the bounds of a civilised state governed by the rule of law. The discussion imperceptibly shifts to permits, regulations, and feasibility. Suddenly, the question is no longer whether you want this, but how many crocodiles would be required.

I try to picture that first meeting.

There is coffee on the table. A PowerPoint presentation. A lawyer nudges his glasses up slightly.
“Any ideas for additional security?”
Silence.
Then someone says: “Crocodiles.”

And instead of laughter, a note is made.

That is where the magic of bureaucracy begins. Any idea, however bizarre, can be turned into policy—provided enough forms are attached to it. There will undoubtedly be a working group, a risk assessment, and a reptile management protocol. Perhaps even a code of conduct for the crocodile.

That is the sort of thing a government comes up with.

The remarkable thing is that, in this story, the crocodile is actually the most consistent participant. He does not pretend to be a humanist. He does not speak of democratic values, proportionality, or the international legal order. He is simply a predator.

That makes him honest.

Man is more complicated. He first gives a speech about civilisation, then goes looking for a reptile to guard it. Perhaps that is the most disturbing thing about these times. Not so much that war is being waged, for wars are as old as humanity.

But even the idea of civilisation seems to be slowly shifting. Without much fanfare, during a policy meeting in which a crocodile suddenly becomes a serious candidate for a government position.

And that no one notices anymore that at that moment, perhaps it is not the prison, but civilisation itself that has shrunk a little.