
Gaza: The ‘othering’ of an entire people
In the middle of this rally of solidarity, I found myself lost in a trail of worrying thoughts that should caution all of us to temper zeal and anger with a very large dose of humanity, without sacrificing the intensity of such a noble cause

The genocide and starvation unfolding in Gaza are a stark reminder of the horrors that arise from the 'othering' of an entire people.
In the first days following the latest chapter in this terrible conflict, I found myself holding back from taking a strong stance. Hamas had committed a heinous act of terror, murdering many and kidnapping innocents. This atrocity deserved universal condemnation and a just response against its perpetrators.
But that terrible wound inflicted on the Israeli people was used as justification to unleash unimaginable pain and suffering on the Palestinian civilians. In any sane and moral world, nothing can ever justify such collective punishment, such widespread death and destruction.
Attending the 29 July protest in Valletta, one that was thankfully very well attended, helped restore some of my faith in a shared humanity. It was heartening to see so many people making it clear that we will not be bystanders to starvation, forced displacement, and outright genocide. The turnout seems to have rekindled the government's interest in trying to do something. Let us hope that, this time, it does in fact materialise.
In the middle of this rally of solidarity, I found myself lost in a trail of worrying thoughts that should caution all of us to temper zeal and anger with a very large dose of humanity, without sacrificing the intensity of such a noble cause. This was triggered after a fellow protester whom I had never met approached me to discuss the situation. He seemed to be a very reasonable man, and in my mind, was clearly on the right side of history, after all he was protesting against violence and injustice, right?
Yet the conversation suddenly took a disturbing turn, one which eventually motivated me to put my thoughts into writing. “Have you read Hitler's book?” he asked. I looked at him, incredulous. He proceeded to explain how Hitler had supposedly warned the world about the nature of Jews, backing up his claim with the ancient libel, “after all, they are the same people that killed Christ”.
I was honestly taken aback, realising this person had come full circle in just a few minutes. From condemning the terrible violence inflicted on innocent lives to promoting the very theories that led to recent history’s largest and most terrible of atrocities, the Holocaust.
I am sure that this person was not representative of the thoughts of the crowd. In his own confused way, he exposed a dangerous path down a dark alley. ‘Othering’ doesn't only begin with attacks, walls or checkpoints. It also takes root in words. It starts with the idea that ‘they’ are not like ‘us’. It progresses to define an entire, diverse population by the actions of a few, or by stories from centuries past. This poison, repeated often enough in political speeches, on social media, and in private conversations, produces a worldview where empathy becomes impossible. It allows for the rationalisation of cruelty, transforming children into ‘collateral damage’ and civilian homes into ‘legitimate targets’.
It brought to my mind the profound wisdom of Edith Eger, a survivor of Auschwitz, from her book The Choice. She writes: “We cannot choose to have a life free of pain. But we can choose to be free, to escape the past, no matter what happens to us, and to embrace the possible.”
This choice Eger speaks of is the most profound form of resistance. It is the refusal to let your oppressor, or your pain, define the terms of your humanity. For those of us observing this conflict from afar, it presents a choice of a different, but related, kind. It is the challenge to hold multiple truths at once—to feel sorrow and outrage for the Palestinian civilians being starved and slaughtered, while also feeling sorrow and outrage for Israeli victims of terror.
To choose freedom, in this context, is to refuse the simple, seductive logic of the tribe, which demands you pick a side and hate the other without question. My message is to be vigilant against these root ideas, which are, in fact, the source of all evil. The ancient monster of tribal hatred has many faces, but its goal is always the same: To make us see a fellow human as ‘the other,’ enabling history to repeat its darkest chapters.
Our goal must be to condemn, and apply all necessary pressure, to end human suffering. We should not shy away from calling out the architects of the current catastrophe, in this case, Netanyahu’s government and its extremist elements. Their actions, along with their words, have once again led us to this precipice. At the same time, we must condemn extremist factions on all sides, for they are two heads of the same beast, feeding on each other’s violence and adding fuel to the hateful fires that threaten to consume our shared humanity.
The most logical and desirable end to the hatred is having the two states and peoples of Israel and Palestine living side by side in peace, showing mutual respect. In the current situation, this is unattainable. Food and aid which the Palestinians desperately need must be properly and securely allowed in. And all countries, including Malta, must recognise the state of Palestine as soon as possible, allowing work to start around the two states solution.