We’ve Been Here Before
With each news flash of war, I’m instantly reminded of the inevitable innocent civilians who will become collateral. During my time in East Africa, I had the profound opportunity to spend time with displaced children from Somalia, Tigray, and Sudan. Their faces, etched with stories of conflict and loss, haunted me as they described the chaos they were born into. So, when the devastating news emerged that The Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in Gaza was bombed, resulting in the tragic death of over 500 Palestinian civilians, those faces from East Africa came rushing back.
For me, the debate about which side or entity is responsible for the bombing of the Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital is secondary. My primary anguish stems from the fact that such an atrocity occurred in the first place.
The renewed tensions in the Israel-Palestine theater underscore a narrative that’s all too familiar: the true casualties are the innocent souls, especially children who are unwittingly thrust into these tumultuous landscapes.
It’s a world where the innocent mirth of children should reverberate in open fields, not be silenced by the sounds of bombardment. In these war-torn regions, children, devoid of any role in creating the political and historical quagmires, find their lives overshadowed by fear and uncertainty.
Every child born into such conflict zones isn’t guilty of the decisions their government or governing bodies make. It’s heart-wrenching to think that these children’s first sounds might be of explosions, their first sights might be of destruction, and their early memories filled with fear. Such young souls, who should be playing, learning, and experiencing the joys of childhood, are instead learning to differentiate between the sounds of incoming rockets and outgoing artillery.
Collective punishment is a dangerous and morally reprehensible concept. The idea that an entire community should bear the consequences of the actions of a few is fundamentally flawed. Yet, time and again, we witness entire neighborhoods, towns, and cities getting punished for the actions or decisions of a minority. It is a cycle of retaliatory violence where the majority, especially children, pay a price they shouldn’t have to.
It’s easy to get lost in the politics, the age-old grievances, and the endless debates about right and wrong in such conflicts. But the clarity comes when you strip away the layers and see the raw human cost — the innocent lives lost, the dreams shattered, and the futures denied.
When asked about my position:
My heart lies with the untouched souls, those who have never brandished a weapon yet find themselves evading gunfire and hoping against hope that the next explosion isn’t near them. In their essence and their innocence, they are indistinguishable.
That is where I stand.
