Never has it been easier to see so clearly the black-hearted evil under the façade of those pretending to be human, masquerading in the outfits of woke college students, distinguished heads of state, ordinary housewives, clerks, heads of international relief organizations, pop singers, actors. They say a simple sentence, tear a poster off the wall, repeat a cliché, and there it is for all to see: their black hearts beating, the evil inside them rising to the surface as they align themselves with murder, rape, kidnapping, violence and acts of unspeakable inhumanity.
They probably think they are hiding it from us, camouflaging the truth of, pretending it is something else, an opinion, a point of view, something arguable, potentially worthy and feasible: they just want a ceasefire to save innocent children. Or they just want peace. Or they just think there are two sides to every story. Or they think there is a better way. And two wrongs don’t make a right … and and and and and and. If only they could see themselves, hear themselves.
If only they realized how transparent they are! They are not the ones who did the work, experienced the massacre, took the photos, felt the “glory,” took home the spoils. But oh, they secretly enjoyed it, reveled in it, would love to help the perpetrators get away with it so that they might do it again.
If only they knew how clear this truth is to us, unmistakable, rising up out of them like stink.
We are not fooled. We see you now as we have never been able to see you before when your rhetoric and your station in life masked it, making it difficult to dig out.
This is a time of monstrous clarity when all pretense falls away, when the purity of truth is strained from what was before obscure and indistinct.
Now we see what’s behind your mild neutrality: the ancient irredeemable hatred of prejudice and race hatred.
You are not the same as the ones who hold up swastikas, wear the Hamas colors, call for gassing, regret Hitler stopped too soon. You are not the same as the weak-minded and uninformed and brainwashed who march and shout. You are smart enough to try to hide behind something others can accept, will find less controversial.
We can see right into your ugly soul.
Such a relief! We no longer have to second guess ourselves, wonder at our perception. We can stop defending, explaining, worrying we didn’t make our case clearly enough, didn’t show you enough corpses, enough evidence, enough blood.
It is not us, our public relations mistakes, our inadequacies. All along, it was you, only you. You, who can watch things that ordinary humans cannot bear to see, and then excuse them – the burnt corpse of a baby in an oven, the dead body of an innocent young girl, the children and babies dragged away. Your heart is open to it with secret satisfaction, like worshippers of Baal who participated in offering up children as burnt offerings, pretending all the while it it was something noble, redeeming.
Now we see whose side you are really on. Everything else is gaslighting. In a surprising moment of rare honesty, you let your guard down, showed us your true face before putting your masks back on, painted with the sad, sober, reflective expression you do so well. You have been unmasked. Forever.
And so then, what shall be your punishment? I will make it proportional, because that is so important to you, isn’t? I will only wish for you what we ourselves are experiencing for the last month. Going to sleep in the grip of the terrible fear that the person you love the most might at this very moment be going into Gaza, among the sub-humans armed to the teeth, who might do them harm. That you might never see them again.
I wish you waking in terror countless times in the night to check your phone apps to see if it is announcing another death.
I wish you the unending, sickening horror of not knowing where your child is, if they are crying out for you, frightened, hungry, thirsty, wondering where you are, why they have been abandoned. Or the fear that your wife or little girl is being unceasingly molested by animals who have no moral boundaries, and you are helpless to save her.
I wish you those unspeakable depths of despair moment after moment, day after day, minute after minute. Completely proportional.