Cecilia Sala and the art of strategic cluelessness

Once again, Cecilia Sala—Italy’s most intrepid correspondent of curated insights and Persian fairytales—has graced us with a geopolitical revelation, fresh from her favourite source: vibes.

In her latest tweet, Sala informs us that between the “glory” of martyrdom (which, one assumes, she’s now an expert on, having once touched down in Tehran International and survived an entire week without Instagram), and the sacred doctrine of “strategic patience,” Supreme Leader Ayatollah Alì Khamenei has heroically opted once more for patience. Bravo. Nobel Peace Prize for inertia incoming.

You see, Cecilia has cracked it. Iran isn’t doing much because of a deeply calculated long-game. Not, say, because its economy is wheezing like a Fiat Panda with a puncture, or because half its proxies are too busy dodging Israeli airstrikes to take notes on strategy. No. Khamenei is calmly and wisely choosing patience. The man is a Stoic, a spiritual heir to Seneca, only with more hangings.

One marvels at Sala’s ability to distill thirty years of Middle Eastern complexity into one solemn tweet. The balance of power? Strategic doctrines? Centuries-old theological schisms? Who needs all that when you can simply cast Israel and America as the big bad wolves and Khamenei as the misunderstood shepherd with a chessboard and infinite time?

You almost expect her to suggest that Tehran’s morality police are simply enforcing a rigorous mindfulness regime.

And yet, her tone is so calm. So knowing. She has, after all, seen Iran. With her own enormous eyes. She felt its pulse. Like a woman who did yoga once in Oaxaca and now refers to herself as a shaman of pre-Columbian energy, Sala returns from the Islamic Republic with the smug solemnity of someone who saw a mullah and mistook him for a philosopher-king.

But let us not forget: behind the smooth delivery and soft lighting, Sala never misses a chance to slip in her little obligatory anti-Israel jab. It’s always there. Like coriander. You didn’t ask for it, but it shows up anyway, ruining the dish. She’ll cover an earthquake and somehow Israel will be the tectonic plate.

And of course, she remains one of the most loyal members of that elite squad of progressive know-nothings—the brunch Marxists who now dominate European media. They write and speak in a loop of recycled half-truths, delivered with the earnestness of people who think they discovered Gaza in 2021 and will not shut up about it. They are wrong about everything, but they are so very sure. And God help you if you disagree. If you dare say “actually, no,” they’ll look at you as if you’ve just kicked a rescue puppy and voted Tory.

So yes, Cecilia Sala is once again here to guide us through the mysteries of the Middle East, one meaningless phrase at a time. Just remember: if Khamenei invades Azerbaijan tomorrow, it won’t be war. It’ll be… strategic impatience.

Meanwhile, Sala will be on the next plane to Oaxaca. Or maybe Caracas. Or wherever they’re currently handing out empathy tokens for foreign correspondents who have never read a single classified cable in their lives, but feel geopolitics deep in their chakra.

God save us all. Or at least mute her notifications.