CAILÍN RUA: On Israel, Gaza, horrors and helplessness

These are heavy times.
As dark nights draw in, grey skies droop towards greyer paths, and relentless, bloody war rains down hell on innocents in the Middle East, it can be hard to lift ourselves to find the light.
In our relative privilege, our tiny irks pale into insignificance, the airing of our own small ails seems nearly petulant. Conversely, indulging in frivolities feels inapposite while the world thrashes, burns and mourns, and the rope frays in the tug-of-war between good and evil. (It seems that even as words, goodness and evil fail to measure up. Is the benignity of ‘goodness’ really any match for the sheer malevolence of ‘evil’?)
Alongside horror at the images emerging from the conflict between Israel and Gaza – is ‘conflict’ even the right word, either? – an inevitable emotion which finds us is guilt. Powerlessness and paralysis. Helplessness. Surprisingly, it is still possible to be chilled to the bone by the unspeakable cruelties humans inflict upon each other.
And there is empathy. Irish people still carry a colonialist burden, and intuitively identify with people being driven off land they regard as theirs. If only it were just displacement. If only children and their families were not being massacred, their homes destroyed, their escape routes blocked.
This is not a propaganda piece, nor an attempt to claim understanding of the centuries-old conflict underpinning the current war. It is certainly not an effort to explain it. As Ukraine has shown, modern wars have two components. There is traditional bloody conflict, and now, the information wars into which we have all unwittingly been dragged.
In the digital age, where real journalism is poorly resourced, political agendas are rife and TikTok relentlessly pumps out facts and misinformation with no reliable differentiation, there is an unsettling realisation that we can no longer trust even mainstream media to report accurately or without bias. The truth drowns in the noise. But equally, everyone’s truth differs.
It is not inaccurate, however, to state that Israel is now waging a genocidal war on Gaza and Palestine, in response to Palestinian militant group Hamas’s actions. The people of Gaza say it, and they should know. Academics and scholars of genocide agree on it. Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu categorically declared his country’s intentions, in the most dehumanising genocidal language, and his country has followed through.
Why, then, is the western world so reticent to accept what seems indisputable? And why are those in positions of supreme power, so reluctant to intervene and stop the killing of thousands of people, many of them civilians? Given the fate of his own ancestors, forced off their land by the violent actions of a neighbouring country, the sincerity of US President Joe Biden’s emotional speech in front of St Muredach’s Cathedral back in April must surely be under question, given his immediate, unequivocal support of Israel.
In the face of such horror, such helplessness what can we do?
It may not feel like it, but we do have some power. We can contact our politicians and the embassies and demand that they act. We can donate to aid efforts. We can take our allegiances and protest in solidarity. The sum total of small individual actions can make a difference. We can also decide to do none of these things. In a free society, there blessedly are no obligations. We answer only to our own consciences.
But some things, we should do. Firstly, we should admit that we do not have all the facts. How could we? Secondly, we should accept that it is possible to hold conflicting positions. To feel outraged by both the Israeli brutality and Hamas’s reprehensible and incendiary actions. To grieve the senseless deaths and losses of both Palestinian and Israeli civilians. To understand that while Palestinians are hurting, so too are Jews and Israelis, some of whom are devastated by the actions of their own country.
We should realise that we are neither obliged to take a position nor make it public. There is a natural tendency to share content we feel may inform, and to advocate and lobby for the cause we feel is right. But collectively at a global level, by throwing in our own two cents based on what we see on our phones, we are in danger of drowning out the voices that really matter.
Finally, above all, we should remember that while the world feels heavy, it is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.
We do not need to don the sackcloth and douse ourselves in ashes, rather, we can – and should – celebrate in our own lives without guilt, feel joy and gratitude.
We can worry about things that may seem trivial; we all bear our own burdens, and are allowed to feel their weight, however light, amidst the weight of the world.
But in order to survive, we need to seek, create and savour joy, and more importantly, to spread it. The light is needed now, more than ever.