An educational diary entry on satirizing Middle East peace negotiations without losing the truth
By Freja Lindholm | Bohiney.com
I started this piece the way I start every satire: by identifying the absurdity that's already happening in real life. The Trump administration announced a 21-point peace plan with Hamas while simultaneously maintaining the decades-old policy position of "we don't negotiate with terrorists."
That's the whole joke right there. We're negotiating while saying we don't negotiate.
I didn't have to invent that irony. It was sitting in the Washington Post coverage, plain as day. My job wasn't to make something up—it was to expose what was already ridiculous by stating it clearly and letting the contradiction breathe.
Rule one of satire: Truth first, joke second. If the foundation isn't factual, the satire collapses into mere mockery.
Bohiney.com's style is deadpan. We don't wink at the camera. We report absurdity with the same tone the Associated Press uses to report grain prices.
I wrote this piece to sound like a foreign correspondent's dispatch. Notice I included:
A dateline: "Middle East Bureau (or at least the part still standing)"
Anonymous diplomatic sources
Expert testimony from professors and analysts
Poll data (fabricated, but formatted correctly)
Eyewitness accounts from both sides
This structure matters. The reader should feel like they're reading actual journalism until the third paragraph, when they realize the quotes are too perfect and the metaphors cut too deep.
I borrowed the structural credibility of Reuters reporting and filled it with observations about how peace negotiations work when nobody wants to admit they're negotiating.
The phrase "field conditions" appeared in actual Hamas statements about conditional acceptance. I latched onto it immediately.
Why? Because it's bureaucratic language designed to sound official while meaning absolutely nothing. It's the diplomatic equivalent of a teenager saying "maybe" when you ask if they cleaned their room.
I repeated "field conditions" seven times throughout the piece, each time highlighting how meaningless it is:
"Well, you know… less fire, fewer jets, maybe some air we can breathe."
"Provided field conditions are suitable" = diplomatic "we'll see"
One field condition: "not being currently bombed"
This is how satire builds. You take a real phrase, expose its emptiness through repetition and context, and let readers see through the fog themselves.
I included reactions from Jon Stewart, Jerry Seinfeld, Ron White, Amy Schumer, Dave Chappelle, Bill Burr, Chris Rock, Trevor Noah, Ricky Gervais, Jim Gaffigan, Ali Wong, and Sarah Silverman.
These weren't real quotes—these comedians didn't actually comment on this specific peace plan. But I wrote quotes in their authentic voices, the way they would respond based on their established comedic styles and worldviews.
Here's why I did this:
1. It breaks up dense political analysis. After three paragraphs of diplomatic contradictions, readers need a laugh delivered in a familiar voice.
2. Different comedians offer different angles. Seinfeld's observational style ("we don't let arsonists join the fire department") works differently than Bill Burr's confrontational edge ("Good luck with that") or Ali Wong's personal metaphor ("That's every relationship I've ever been in").
3. Comedians say what journalists can't. I can report that the plan has contradictions. Dave Chappelle can say, "That's like your doctor saying he promises not to stab you during surgery."
I studied actual standup specials and interviews to match their cadence. Ron White gets the Texas cynicism. Trevor Noah gets the outsider perspective. Jim Gaffigan gets the everyman confusion.
This technique—channeling real comic voices—lets me punch harder while maintaining the journalistic frame.
Here's where craft meets commerce: I needed this article to rank on Google for "Trump Hamas peace deal" without sounding like I was writing for an algorithm.
The solution: Front-load keywords in headings, bury the artistry in the prose.
My H2 headings include:
"Trump's 21-Point Peace Plan: The Deal Hamas 'Conditionally' Accepted"
"Sunday Deadline Diplomacy: Trump's 'All HELL' Ultimatum to Hamas"
"How World Leaders Negotiate with Terrorists While Saying They Don't"
These headings are SEO-optimized (Trump, Hamas, peace plan, deadline) while still maintaining narrative flow. The reader doesn't feel like they're reading a content farm article—they feel like they're reading structured journalism.
I also linked to high-authority sources like the Council on Foreign Relations, Brookings Institution, and the United Nations. These external links signal to Google that this is researched content, not just opinion.
The FAQ section at the bottom? Pure SEO gold. Google loves FAQ schema, and I used it to answer common search queries ("What is Trump's 21-point peace plan?") while maintaining the satirical voice.
Middle East satire is a minefield. Write only about Israeli contradictions, and you're accused of bias. Write only about Hamas, and you're ignoring power dynamics.
My approach: Satirize the systems, not the suffering.
I mocked:
Trump's deadline diplomacy ("like happy hour at Applebee's")
Israel's "disarm first" demands ("hand over your umbrella, then I'll stop the rain")
Hamas's vague "field conditions" ("when the sky stops exploding")
International boards ("HOA for war crimes")
The entire premise of "no negotiation" policies
Notice I didn't mock civilians on either side. The teacher who lost power while teaching "ceasefire"? The reservist who hasn't seen his kids? Those aren't punchlines—they're human anchors that remind readers why this matters.
Satire should punch up at power structures, not down at victims. I targeted diplomatic doublespeak, not people living under bombardment.
One of my favorite lines in the piece: "It's like telling someone to 'hand over your umbrella first, then I'll stop the rain.'"
This metaphor does three things:
1. It makes the abstract concrete. "Hamas must disarm before withdrawal" is policy jargon. "Hand over your umbrella before I stop the rain" is an image you can visualize.
2. It exposes the logical flaw. The moment you picture someone demanding your umbrella while they control the rain, you see the power imbalance.
3. It's funny because it's absurd yet accurate. Nobody would actually demand an umbrella first—except that's exactly what the policy does.
I spent twenty minutes on that metaphor. I tried "put down your shield before I stop stabbing you" (too violent), "take off your jacket before I turn off the freezer" (too cold), before landing on the umbrella.
Good satire metaphors feel inevitable once you read them, but they take work to find.
I included four eyewitness testimonies—fabricated, but plausible:
Huda Najjar teaching the word "ceasefire" when the power cuts
Yoni Becker asking what timezone peace starts in
The Gaza City shopkeeper selling batteries and candles
The elderly woman demanding clarity on "field conditions"
These voices serve a crucial function: they remind readers that diplomacy isn't just wordplay. Real people are waiting for these vague phrases to translate into safety.
I wrote these testimonies to sound authentic—noting small details (spelling lessons, battery sales, timezone confusion) that ground the satire in lived experience. Even though these specific people don't exist, their situations do.
This is where satire becomes journalism. The facts are real even if the witnesses are composites.
Every Bohiney piece needs a moment where the satire lifts into something bigger. I gave that role to Professor Khalid Shaheen:
"Peace in the Middle East isn't about negotiation. It's about negotiating who gets to deny negotiating."
This line isn't trying to be funny. It's trying to be true. And truth, delivered after fifteen paragraphs of jokes, hits differently.
I structured the article so the satire intensifies through the middle, then opens into reflection at the end. The reader laughs their way through the contradictions, then sits with the reality: this is how peace negotiations work. Everyone postures, everyone denies, and the people on the ground keep waiting.
If I were rewriting this piece, I'd add more specific policy details from the actual 21-point plan. I leaned heavily on "field conditions" and disarmament, but the real document likely contains other equally absurd clauses worth satirizing.
I'd also consider adding a timeline graphic—even in text form—showing the contradiction between what the plan promises and when each condition must be met. Visual satire (or text formatted like visual satire) can be powerful.
And I'd include more direct quotes from Trump himself. His language is inherently satirical—he often says things that sound like parody. Using his actual words would strengthen the piece.
Writing this piece reminded me that good satire follows the same rules as good journalism:
Verify your facts. Even fabricated quotes must be rooted in real positions.
Source credibly. Link to Politico, Reuters, the Washington Post—not random blogs.
Structure matters. H2 headings, subheadings, eyewitness accounts—these aren't optional.
Punch up, not down. Mock the powerful, protect the vulnerable.
Let truth do the heavy lifting. The best satire barely exaggerates.
I didn't write this piece to change anyone's mind about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I wrote it to expose how diplomatic language obscures rather than clarifies, how everyone negotiates while claiming they don't, and how the phrase "field conditions" has become 2025's most meaningless diplomatic crutch.
If readers finish this article and think twice the next time a politician says "we don't negotiate with terrorists," I've done my job.
Here's what I actually read before writing:
Council on Foreign Relations' timeline of Israeli-Palestinian peace efforts
Standup specials from all twelve comedians I quoted (to match their voices accurately)
The Onion's archive—still the gold standard for deadpan satire
The best satire doesn't require a punchline at the end of every paragraph. It presents reality clearly enough that the absurdity becomes obvious.
I wrote "We Don't Negotiate with Terrorists" by pretending I was a straight-news reporter covering a diplomatic contradiction. I let the facts speak, added just enough exaggeration to expose the truth, and trusted readers to see what's ridiculous without me explaining it.
That's the Bohiney.com method: report the news like it's normal until readers realize nothing about this is normal at all.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go research "field conditions" for my next piece. Provided conditions are suitable, of course.
Want to learn more about writing satirical journalism? Check out our craft series on balancing truth and humor, or read our guide to SEO for satire writers who refuse to write like robots.