Attempting to pen down this article has become an exercise in perpetual frustration. Each effort to put pen to paper is violently interrupted by a relentless stream of new war crimes, each one more harrowing than the last.
The ink has barely dried on one atrocity before another one is committed.
As I write this, it has been 173 days of brutality and death visited upon Palestinians in Israel’s war on Gaza; 173 days of children butchered, women undergoing caesareans without anaesthetic to the melody of mass extermination, and men forced to undergo their own personal excavation of horrors as they search for their sons and daughters under the rubble – often unearthing only fragments, mere echoes of their offspring in the form of scattered limbs.
It has been 173 days of the world watching like silent spectators as humanity’s moral compass is killed along with the Palestinians.
"Gaza has become the world's first live-streamed genocide, and it is a chilling indictment of our collective failure to act"
Observing the reactions to the latest chapter of horror unfolding in Gaza at the hands of the Israeli Occupation Forces (IOF) paints a grim picture of a voyeuristic world drenched in apathy as it stands by watching scenes of civilians stripped naked and humiliated by soldiers, of children whose faces have been disfigured beyond recognition, and of infants dying of forced famine.
Last week, in the latest breach of international law, the occupation army invaded the Al-Shifa Hospital complex during Ramadan – a holy month of fasting for Muslims – and executed dozens of Palestinians.
Witnessing the men rounded-up, standing naked and blindfolded by the IOF, was jarringly reminiscent of the images leaked from Iraq’s Abu Ghraib Prison in 2004. It also evoked scenes from the Holocaust era when the Jewish people were similarly stripped naked as they awaited their fate.
Meanwhile, on the global stage, policymakers are still engaging in endless deliberations over whether to call for a ceasefire, issuing tepid statements condemning the terrors of this “conflict,” all the while funnelling funds to the Israeli government’s army and in the same breath air-dropping performative aid into Gaza.
Since the start of Israel's genocide in Gaza, Palestinians have been forced to beg the world for empathy. But the shame is not ours to bear and instead of allowing it to immobilise us, we must use it as a revolutionary sentiment, writes Sarah Amr👇 https://t.co/8hBXDdiIYM
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Today, Gaza has become the world's first live-streamed genocide, and it is a chilling indictment of our collective failure to act.
While the Palestinian cause had initially gained a barrage of allies at the onset of this ‘conflict’,the trend seems to have simmered as our feeds transition from a sea of Palestinian content to a mix between a burning Gaza and the latest food or style trends that influencers push on us.
On the ground, however, the shrieks of children as they are amputated without anaesthetic haven’t stopped.
The instances of fathers and mothers breaking down as they cling to their child’s lifeless body have persisted. The pleas for help from doctors struggling to save infants in incubators, who have run out of oxygen, are deafening.
More than 32,000 Palestinians have been killed in Israel’s relentless war on Gaza —a figure that many experts deem incomplete as it fails to encompass those trapped under the rubble and the unreported casualties.
International NGO OXFAM describes the unfolding tragedy as “the deadliest rate of conflict of the 21st century.”
As alarming as the state of Israel’s blatant disregard for international law is, it is our reaction to the ongoing genocide that is truly shocking.
Where there should be rage, there is silence; where anger should live, disinterest resides.
The world’s apathy towards the Palestinian genocide is representative of bystanderism on a global scale. We’re flooded with a stream of unspeakable horrors while debates continue to rage on among the public and in distant chambers of power.
A few months ago, halfway across the world, another incident was taking place parallel to the Gaza war. A man was sentenced to nine years in prison for sexually assaulting a woman on the London tube. No one intervened on the woman's behalf, which prompted an outcry on social media.
"When scenes coming out of the ongoing massacre in Gaza do not galvanise us because it does not 'concern' us, we are paving the way for a detachment that will eventually trickle down into our day-to-day lives"
On X, one user remarked, "Bystanderism is so bad in London (…). We all have a responsibility to do something if we see something terribly wrong happening. You are accountable for your inaction."
He was right.
But is it not the exact definition of bystanderism when the desperate cries of thousands of innocent men, women, and children fall on deaf ears?
It is no shock then that onlookers would not react to a woman being sexually assaulted when they haven’t reacted to the sight of bleeding children and men being crushed by bulldozers.
This apathy towards Palestinians has a ripple effect in our daily lives.
As I write this, I grapple with whether it is too graphic, whether I should tone it down. But why would I need to tone anything down? I am reporting what the whole world is bearing witness to.
If you are uncomfortable, then congratulations, you’re human. Is it human to be uncomfortable with genocide.
By allowing ourselves to become desensitized to a genocide documented so thoroughly in real time, we run the risk of losing our collective humanity; when scenes coming out of the ongoing massacre in Gaza do not galvanise us because it does not “concern” us, we are paving the way for a detachment that will eventually trickle down into our day-to-day lives.
Following the holocaust, German pastor Martin Niemöller said, “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a socialist; then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out – because I was not a trade unionist; Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out – because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak for me.”
Today they are coming for the Palestinians; will you speak out or does it still not concern you?
Dina Khadr is a freelance journalist. Her areas of interest include geopolitics, social justice, and women's rights in the MENA region. Her writing has appeared in Womena, Grazia Middle East, CairoScene, and others.
Follow her on Instagram: @Dinakhdr9
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Opinions expressed here are the author's own, and do not necessarily reflect those of their employer, or of The New Arab and its editorial board or staff.
