There comes a time when it is impossible to retain a dignified silence.
I told myself there was simply too much history in the Israeli–Palestine conflict to speak on it with confidence. I’ve always tried to educate myself, but how does one get up to speed on over 3,000 years of contested land, religion, and identity?
And yet, the sheer magnitude of the suffering now being inflicted upon the people of Palestine is impossible to ignore.
The Israeli Defence Forces recently bombed children as they queued for water. The official line is that it was an error. I’m afraid I do not believe them.
If you are willing to strike civilians waiting at an aid distribution point—under the pretext of targeting Hamas—then I do not see how this is any different. Children died there too. And when a government imposes a blockade that knowingly deprives an entire population of food, water, fuel, and medicine, it is not simply a policy decision—it is the deliberate weaponisation of deprivation.
Starvation kills. And it kills babies first.
“Children are not a target.” — UNICEF, April 2024
There is only ever one path out of a cycle of hatred, violence, and vengeance: talk.
It worked, to a degree, in Northern Ireland. That conflict, too, was rooted in land, faith, history,
and colonial legacy. It claimed thousands of innocent lives.
For generations, the two communities lived apart—different schools, different streets, different allegiances. I still remember the images of Protestant parents lining the streets to spit on a Catholic child simply trying to attend school. The inhumanity was open, sanctioned, and generational.
And yet, after decades of bloodshed, the parties sat down. It was slow. It was painful. The peace has never been perfect. But the guns were lowered. Diplomacy took root.
The Good Friday Agreement may not have solved everything, but it saved lives. There are people alive in Belfast, Derry, and beyond who might not be, had that path not been chosen.
The Israeli–Palestinian conflict is older, more deeply entrenched, and loaded with existential fear on both sides. A solution would demand mutual recognition: Israel’s right to exist, yes—but also Palestine’s right to exist. It would require international mediation by a genuinely neutral party—not the US, not the UK, whose legacies are too tangled and partial to be trusted as honest brokers.
But the alternative is clear: more killing, until one side is utterly broken. As I write this, only one side currently has the military and technological capability to do that.
Where we stand matters.
To call for a ceasefire and peace talks is not to call for the destruction of Israel. It is to plead for a reprieve—for those living in the rubble of what used to be their homes, for the children who live each hour under the threat of death, for the convoys of aid workers who just want to deliver water and bread without being bombed.
Our governments seem unwilling or unable to speak out. So, it falls to us. Those with any kind of platform—even if it’s just a few words shared among a few kindred souls.
We speak because silence, in the face of atrocity, is complicity.
📚 Further Reading / Sources
UNICEF: Children Must Be Protected in Gaza
BBC – Dozens killed near aid convoy in Gaza
Amnesty International: Israel’s starvation policy
BBC History: The Good Friday Agreement
CAIN Archive – Northern Ireland Conflict and Peace Process
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