Recently the Israeli Defense Force murdered an aid convoy. A group of international aid workers who had coordinated with the IDF and who were travelling on an IDF approved route. When the aid workers came under attack, they contacted the IDF. Three assaults were launched by the IDF, killing seven World Central Kitchen aid workers.
The term “triple tap” has been used. The IDF will investigate itself.
The outraged, the shocked, and the indifferent alike watch as children die daily in Palestine. The aid workers’ bodies were mutilated by weapons likely supplied by the United States.And in response to their deaths, the president blathered something about ice cream cones as the arms supplies keep on rolling in. Pundits for murder grinned with sharp teeth over their support of the Israeli government. “Murder them all” is the bi-partisan mantra of U.S. domestic politics.
Liberal democracies tend to vote for murder, especially if natives are being killed in the name of colonial exceptionalism. Democracy is civilized, after all, since it provides jobs and welfare. The elites and political beasts in Australia, the United Kingdom, and other member nations of the crusader coalition of the willing invaders may whisper here and there in condemnation, but Israel is still a friend. And sometimes friends have to murder. Among statesmen who sit in the plush seats of national interest, this is understood. Important people must murder because that’s how policy bread is baked.
The mass murder makes sense when you are paid to believe. It makes sense when your faith in law and order is built on self-interest. It makes sense when your career and pensions requires it to. Babies getting starved to death, aid workers blown to pieces, are just more eggs. And statist omlettes require endless eggs.
The digital spectators will have moved on from the murdered aid workers by the time the next TikTok dance goes viral, assuming any even noticed the craters where corpses were baked into powder. Smelly man eats liver, Fleetwood Mac cranberry juice, and Ben Shapiro is the number one rapper are all more important than dead children. The “my life is too busy” generation will shrug off what is done in their name even if they are in someway complicit. “Sssh it’s time to watch a sportsball or binge a trending show on streamingflix.” No time to care or pay attention, so they say between stints of inebriation.
Uppers in the morning, downers at night, anti-depressants, meltaway fat pills and video games help escape the job you hate, and make it easier to buy things you never wanted. It’s too hard to read a headline now, and your attention span wanes into indifference. Oh look, a funny cat video. Click. Who even has time for the dead children? Life is too complicated. I can just order my food online, push some buttons, and it arrives. They had it easy when they had to make everything for themselves. At least starving babies don’t have to worry about their waist line.
Most mornings in Australia, pious members of the middle class “working” in swollen government or corporate jobs will sing a mantra in recognition to the original people of the land. Ashamed of the settler colonialism they’re profiting from, they pretend to care about the bones that are buried beneath as they recite words of “respect,” all the while worshipping the very government that murdered the original people, betrayed them, and enslaved them. But government jobs pay too well, welfare is too easy not to get, and the past is past.
Generations from now, middle class Israeli women may be sitting in a circle at a local welfare gathering acknowledging the Palestinians as the original owners of the land, their bones but powder beneath their feet. Decades from now, a Palestinian flag alongside a large mural of a crying baby’s face may be artistically placed in the Israeli capital, a sign of the conqueror’s symbolic self-loathing. And the artist that painted it enjoys the view from his balcony on the West Bank, the corpose of the baby he painted buried under his home.
The murdered aid workers may as well have been refugees crossing a bridge in Korea, Doctors Without Borders obliterated from above in Afghanistan, or countless kulaks imprisoned to death in Siberia. Does it matter in the end? Married at First Sight season twenty-eight is on, Ninja is reviewing Roblox, Jake Paul is fighting Muhammad Ali’s corpse, and a celebrity chefman is going to bake a Marvel cake.
The good and the innocent will all be murdered in the end, but real estate will be available in Gaza soon, so that’s nice, right? See, it all works out well in the end.
“We acknowledge the traditional owners of the land…oh look, tea and biscuits.”
