By Joseph Rittenhouse
What does it take to unleash a storm of bullets into a sea of starving people?No weapons. No threat. Just hollow faces, sunken bellies, hands raised—not in defiance, but in desperation. And still, you pull the trigger.
What kind of twisted machinery runs in your veins to let you aim an assault rifle at the weak and the hungry? What black switch flips in your mind that says: Yes, mow them down. Shoot to kill.
Maybe it’s easier if you convince yourself they’re not human. Strip them of their names. Call them a threat. Call them terrorists. Call them anything but what they are—mothers, fathers, children. Starving, desperate, clinging to life.
History already showed us this. Nazi soldiers did it. They lined up innocent Jews, marched them to pits, and filled those graves with bullets and flesh. And we said: Never again.
Some will say: “It’s complicated.” Others will insist: “Israel has the right to defend itself.”
But tell us—how does defense justify shooting unarmed civilians running toward food?
This cannot be explained away. It cannot be normalized. It cannot be ignored.
We’ve seen horrors like this before, of what happens when one group dehumanizes another—when children become “collateral,” and the starving become “threats.” Nazi death squads operated on the same logic. Round them up. Call them less-than-human. Pull the trigger.
And now, it’s happening again.
Only this time, it is Israel—a nation born from the ashes of genocide—dealing death from the sky and the ground to a population under siege.
Does anyone still believe “Never again” means anything?
We recognize the pain and suffering of the Israeli people. We mourn every innocent life lost to Hamas terror. But there is no moral equation that balances what is unfolding now. You do not respond to violence with collective starvation. You do not restore peace by killing the desperate.
But here we are.
And this time it’s Israeli soldiers. This time it’s Palestinians. Over 200 slaughtered. 600 more torn apart as reported by The Guardian. Not in battle. Not during a firefight. But at a food convoy. Trying to survive.
How the hell do you pull that trigger?
Don’t tell me orders. Don’t give me defense. Don’t give me “they had to.” You don’t have to fire into a crowd of starving civilians. You choose to. That finger moves because somewhere, somehow, you gave yourself permission.
And don’t talk to me about morality or values when you’re pumping bullets into the backs of hungry men and women who haven’t eaten in days. Don’t talk to me about defending your borders when you’re gunning down barefoot kids who haven’t had clean water in a month.
Is that it? Strip them of their dignity, their food, their water, their homes—until they no longer look like people? Until you can slaughter them and still sleep at night?
What kind of soldier sleeps after that?
And what kind of world lets them?
If this is what we’ve become—people who watch this unfold on screens, who scroll past it, who shrug or worse, cheer—then maybe humanity isn’t lost. Maybe we never had it to begin with.
If God sees this, and does nothing, then maybe we should stop pretending we’re worth saving.
This isn’t war.
This is execution.
And there will be a reckoning.
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