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One Saturday evening in March 1988, in my office at the Northern Ireland newspaper that I edited at the time, I was sitting with my news editor watching the TV news.

It was at the height of a 30-year period in Irish history euphemistically known as “the Troubles,” which had begun in the late 1960s with civil rights marches in protest at systemic discrimination against the minority Catholic and nationalist population by the Protestant and unionist majority and the local government. It later morphed into a full-blown civil war that pitched the militant Irish Republican Army and various offshoots against the (mostly unionist) police, loyalist paramilitaries and the British army.

That day, March 19, had been an eventful one and we were not short of content for the following day’s edition. At the funeral of an IRA fighter in West Belfast, attended by thousands of sympathetic mourners, two off-duty British army corporals in civilian clothes had been identified as such when, apparently unaware that the funeral was taking place, they drove by accident almost head-on into the procession. Their unmasking in a staunchly republican area was in itself a death sentence — but even by Northern Ireland standards, the manner of their deaths was horrific.

The two soldiers were dragged from their car and taken to a nearby sports field, where they were stripped to their underwear and questioned, tortured, stabbed numerous times, their bodies beaten to a pulp, and eventually they were shot dead. The entire incident was filmed from army and news helicopters, and the footage has been described as the most harrowing of the entire conflict.

Attempting to deflect criticism by pointing to wrongdoing by someone else is a temptation that can be difficult to resist

Ross Anderson

Back in my office, the news editor, Tony, and I watched an interview with a politician from Sinn Fein, then the political wing of the IRA, in which — as was the futile custom — he was invited to condemn the murders despite almost certainly supporting them. Tony, a newspaper veteran, told me: “Just listen: the first words out of his mouth will be ‘Well, yes, but what about…’” So, I listened. The first words out of the politician’s mouth were: “Well, yes, but what about…” followed by a lengthy and well-rehearsed litany of atrocities committed against his constituents by the forces of the state and their paramilitary allies.

Tony explained: “It’s called ‘whataboutery.’ I first encountered it in Dublin about 10 years ago.” He did indeed: the word itself is thought to have been coined by The Irish Times in 1974, although the practice it describes is commonplace anywhere there is armed conflict.

Attempting to deflect criticism by pointing to wrongdoing by someone else rather than addressing the original issue is a temptation that can be difficult to resist. I have been guilty of it myself, most recently when an Iranian missile attack on a hospital in the Israeli city of Beersheba provoked outrage from Israeli Defense Minister Israel Katz.

My first response was: “Outrage? Seriously? Where was this outrage when the armed forces this man directs rained death and destruction on 34 of Gaza’s 36 hospitals, killing patients and medical staff indiscriminately, leaving at least 15 of those hospitals crippled and the rest shut down, unable to provide desperately needed healthcare of any kind?” But that would be whataboutery. It should go without saying that any attack on any hospital is just plain wrong, regardless of who are the attackers and who are the victims.

What is much more useful than whataboutery is its opposite: an ability to place yourself in the shoes of your adversary in an attempt to understand why they think and behave as they do. If there were a single word to sum that up, it might be “empathy.” It sounds easy, but it isn’t and, in this part of the world, it is in lamentably short supply.

What is much more useful than whataboutery is its opposite: an ability to place yourself in the shoes of your adversary

Ross Anderson

For example, in Israel there is no evidence of an understanding that denigrating Iran as a theocracy under the malign influence of a gang of religious fundamentalists is a bit rich given the composition of the current Israeli government. Or that Benjamin Netanyahu’s interminable whingeing, without evidence, about Tehran being “weeks away” from a nuclear weapon — a phrase he first used in 2015, having voiced similar sentiments for at least a decade before that — risks making him the boy who cried wolf. Or that Iran is a proud nation with a rich cultural heritage, one of the world’s oldest uninterrupted civilizations dating back more than 6,000 years, and it does not take kindly to being bullied — ask Saddam Hussein.

Equally, in Iran there is no evidence of an understanding that chanting “death to Israel” and threatening to wipe a UN member state off the map, while simultaneously enriching uranium to a level of purity — 60 percent — for which there is no known civilian use, are mutually exclusive actions. No sane adversary would permit both.

So, you will look in vain for much empathy in the Middle East, but perhaps there is cause for optimism from an unlikely source. Consider the following two statements: 1. “The repeated refusal by Palestinian groups to accept the existence of Israel is a major obstacle to peace. There cannot be a negotiation when one side refuses to accept the other’s existence, and Israel cannot make peace with Palestine’s corrupt and chaotic leadership” 2. “Israel has to be accountable for its actions. Until then, there will be no peace, just a surrender, and the people of Palestine will never accept surrender disguised as diplomacy. And Israel’s illegal settlements mean it is not an honest negotiating partner.” They sound like two sides in a debate, which is what they are. What made this debate unique was that both statements were made by the same person.

The event, in a British grammar school, was organized by Parallel Histories, an educational charity that helps teenage students navigate complex and divisive issues, learning in the process that conflict can be more complicated than good-vs.-evil narratives may suggest. The format is that teams of young debaters argue one point of view and then, after a short break, they switch sides. The charity says: “In the process, stereotypes are disrupted and preconceptions challenged. Students learn how to question historical assertions and identify the difference between proportionate and disproportionate claims.”

In other words, although they may not be aware of it, they are learning empathy. Now, couldn’t we do with some of that in the Middle East?

• Ross Anderson is associate editor of Arab News.