Pat Taub
Every morning I watch Democracy Now for updates on Gaza, and weep. It feels important to be a witness to this genocide happening in real time. I force myself not to look away from the traumatized children, covered with ash, sitting on the ruins of their former homes, crying aloud as their thin bodies tremble.
I see humanity in the exhausted doctors and nurses, risking their lives to treat Gaza’s wounded, pleading from chaotic, overcrowded emergency rooms for essential medical supplies and an immediate ceasefire so they can properly treat the record number of injured.
Hospitals are so overcrowded that operating on the floor is not uncommon (The New York Times)
I see humanity in the brave journalists reporting from Gaza–To date over 60 journalists have been murdered by Israel– offering updates against a background of families weighed down with the few possessions they can carry, fleeing their neighborhoods in search of a refuge, hoping against hope for a safe place as Israel plummels every square inch of Gaza.
Journalist, Akram al-Satarri, “No one is safe in Gaza.” (Democracy Now)
I see humanity in the climate activists at the COP28 conference, breaking with rules against political demonstrations, stage a press event outside the formal convention space, calling for a ceasefire as they read the names and ages of some of the 7,000 children murdered in Gaza. Names are read in quivering voices, struggling to hold back tears.
Climate activists at the COP28 conference in Dubai reading off names of some of the children murdered by Israel (Democracy Now)
I do what I can to join the chorus of humanity protesting Israel’s war machine. Ever Saturday I stand with a few dozen in my hometown of Portland, Maine, calling for a ceasefire in support of Palestine. I am one of a handful of elders in a crowd dominated by young people, whose presence encourages me, giving me hope. The youth are demanding a future where humanity reigns.
Yet, I’m in the minority in my social circle where most of my friends comment, “I can’t watch the news. It’s too depressing.”
I can empathize. The news coming out of Gaza is more horrific each day. But if we turn away, we run the risk of morphing into the mentality of those good Germans who recognized Hitler was evil but found it easier to look away than be uncomfortable and protest.
I remind my friends that history bears out that it only takes 3.5% of the population to bring about meaningful change. Ralph Nader has long said, “There are more of us than there are of them.” It’s all about “feet on the streets.”
While you may worry that taking a stand for Gaza and urging a ceasefire will intensify your depression, it is actually the best antidote for it.
A recent protest in Portland, Maine calling for a ceasefire in Gaza
Whenever I join with like-minded souls and read about global support for Gaza, I feel hopeful. I’m reminded that the world is not represented by war mongers like Netanyahu and the Biden White House. I remain hopeful that our hearts will find a way to triumph.
Other ways to join the humanity forces: write letters to the editor; call your elected representatives, urging them to vote for an immediate ceasefire; donate to relief organizations for Gaza. There’s always a way to lend your voice. I’m inspired by a trio of elderly protesters in my community, who are too frail to stand for a long period of time, so they sit on a nearby park bench, holding signs supporting Palestine.
Israel will continue to reduce Gaza to piles of rubble, killing women and children in unprecedented numbers, but eventually this horrible genocide will end. In the meantime, let’s not turn into the citizens of Nazi Germany who looked away, burying their humanity.
For inspiration, hold onto this passage by A.W. Streane:
“Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. ”
