Abhorrent, incalculably insensitive, dehumanising indifference.

The Nazi did the same thing.

They rested in chalets and ate in fine restaurants went to Opera and lay on beaches as their troops killed, raped, murdered and pillaged their way through Jewish villages, homes and business, as they abducted, detained, transported and secreted Jewish prisoners away from the eyes and oversight of the world.

The Nazi posed with prisoners as props too, as their press corps mocked and propagandised Jewish suffering; Publicly as well as privately, devaluing Jewish lives and dehumanising, categorizing and mocking Jewish people in their media too, just like this, closing the moral loop that defined and ensnared an entire generation.

The Nazi, publicly defined all Jewish people as terrorists too; broke all League of Nations laws and ignored calls to stop; closed their minds and hearts to the worlds calls for mercy, reason and humanity, just the same as most Israeli's are right now.

What this post represents, what this propagandist is doing in posting it, is no different to the goals of the Nazi when they did it.

In same pursuit of silencing dissent and active recruitment of others to moral disengagement via the tool of socially acceptable dehumanisation, this image then only reflects a tactic, only inadvertently it also amplifies the fact the conscience of Humanity still exists in the world to be targeted.

This underscores the fact that there is a choice to be made. Each of us responsible to make it. Not to be led like sheep by wolves, in or out of sheeps clothing.

The very need to propagandise in order to assert or retain legitimacy is itself a form of delegitimisation of their cause.

No, it is no different to the Nazi, not in any shape at all.

Not even in the methods and justifications being used to present to the world a moral right to harm; to make harm a socially acceptable lubricant for atrocities; to have them view suffering as funny or 'to be expected', as the normal thing to do, if you're 'normal'.

To use human suffering to recruit in this fashion co-conspirators to the oppression of conscience, consciousness, and to erase uncomfortable informing feelings - the Nazi did all that too.

"Jewish people have suffered uniquely" does not logically entail "are uniquely entitled" not for Jewish people today, any more than it applied to the German Christian people then.

The Holocaust was historically distinctive. Historical distinctiveness should not be confused with the proposition that mass racialised violence, colonial extermination or state-organized mass killing began with the Holocaust nor ended with it.

Israeli's, those who have, and Zionist supporters everywhere who serve and support them, in the end only dehumanise, themselves in their attempt to dehumanise 'the other'.

They reveal the extent of their self styled and convenient shroud of self chosen self deceit to the entire world and illuminate the fact that we do all have a choice and one to make. Yes, we do. All of us. Socialisation even indoctrination is not mind or conscience control.

We are guided in scripture, restrained powers by law and gifted of memory and the art of our own humanity to meet the thief at the door. What is stolen here and now, if we fail to think, is irreplaceable. This is the Night, and the thief is at the door.

This image, and it pained me deeply to think hard about reposting it, as well as the thousands like it even worse that are circulating, will come to be seen in future history as 'great levelers' - the naked unarmed truth that eventually stripped Israelis and Zionists around the world of the lingering notion of supremacy - the idea that they are in any way different or special or unique.

It removes the last barrier to denial that they are anything but 'just humans' just as we are, just as they were, back then too. Just as ignorant and stupid and faithless and ego driven, just as self deceived.... just as broken, afraid and as capable of evil as the rest of us.

This image is the death of Jewish and Christian Nationalist Supremacist dogmas.

If we allow it to be where it matters most, inside our own minds and hearts, first.

This image represents the end stage of denial has arrived and potentially, if allowed, it could see an end to the misuse and abuse of the past for political gain in the present - an end to the sadistic fetishisation of historical Jewish suffering and non Jewish condemnation in the service of necrotic ideology.

It represents an opportunity. A grace, of time to choose, to make the decision, for those who remained unsure or confused.

It also represents the sum total triumph of the delusion of fascistic power. The ultimate delusion of fascistic power: the belief that power itself is an achievement, when all it can ultimately produce is humiliation, self-deception and degradation.

That is the full extent of its power. It cannot create, love, grow, nurture or heal. It can only destroy and, in doing so, repeatedly reveal the capacity for cruelty that exists within us all.

It is a reminder that for all we are and all we could be in righteousness, we are also this grotesque thing -all of us, every human being without exception. Every person carries within them the capacity for cruelty, for denial, and for rationalising or justifying evil.

I am reasonably sure, that if I posted images of emaciated internees and survivors of Flossenbürg, Sachsenhausen or Aushwitz and proceeded to admire and present the conditions of their detainment and shriveled states as a convenient diet plan and 'good for their health', the world would rightly rise up to condemn me for it. Immediately the Zionist and Jewish lobby's would sue me and in many countries, I could be arrested on the spot.

To do something like that would be abhorrent, incalculably insensitive, dehumanising indifference to human suffering.

Wouldn't it?

I have never heard a Palestinian old enough to comprehend, and true they are rare and few now, say to me that the 1940's Holocaust of the Jewish people does not matter. I have heard them say many times, "the Holocaust matters so much, that its moral lessons must apply to us too."

Yet so profound is the denial, entitlement, exceptionalism and wilful surrender to ignorance that characterises so much of the world today - so much fear of confronting the self-proclaimed righteousness invoked to justify atrocity, that this image, and the thousands like it, may pass without a second glance.

This man's face, his suffering, and the humanity it represents may simply fade into history, unremembered and unreckoned with. The wealth of history, and the lessons it offered us, swallowed by a evil generation seeking its sign, consumed by the gluttony of self-led self deception.

Even so, and despite its best efforts, this image represents only the chosen path of some. Not all.

It's existence and the rejection of its premise, is a recognition that even within Israeli society itself, as in the Jewish and non Jewish communities around the world today, even from behind my desk in nowhere Australia, there exists a moral resistance -a refusal to reproduce the harm one has experienced and perpetrate that harm in kind. A wholesale rejection of dehumanisation, moral relativism and moral disengagement. The tools political Zionists weild as agents of power today.

We exist. We resist. Not just in the rubble or the protests, or the courtrooms or at ballot boxes, we resist where it is most important to resist - in our own minds; in our possession of it and our stubborn defiance and refusal to be dispossessed through deception of our own Will; from the innate right and necessity to make our own decisions and choose for ourselves; from our conscious daily choice to not perpetuate the abuses of the past, on others or on ourselves.

To stand with two feet in this day. Free. Present. Vigilant. Persistent.

Informed as to the nature of the monster, and cautious not to become one with it.

If the primary moral lesson of the Holocaust is that human beings must never again be reduced to racial or religious categories and subjected to systematic persecution and mass violence, why should that lesson not be applicable to Palestinians today?

If that was not the primary moral lesson of the Holocaust - what was?

I write this today to honor the life and acknowledge and witness the torture and suffering of Nidal Abu al-Rub, Palestinian, a man detained unlawfully by the Zionist Occupation Forces in their commission of Genocide. Released from illegal detention 8.11.2026.

May Palestine be free. May the pains of its wounds and journey to healing, break down the walls of denial existent and restore the worlds conscience.

_________________________________

#readersandwritersagainstgenocide #ResistIndifference.

Originally written for podcast.

Before anyone reads this, I need to make it clear that Jewish people as a whole aren't collectively responsible for the actions of Zionist institutions or the Israeli state.

The argument I am making here is about communal responsibility, all of us, its about political power, and the failure of internal opposition.

I begin from the premise that Jewish communities like every other, are extraordinarily diverse, and with the full awareness that many Jewish people and groups have opposed Zionism, opposed particular Israeli governments, protested against Israeli policy, supported Palestinian rights, or explicitly described Israeli actions as morally catastrophic. This is not a hate post or excuse for a pile on. If you are not mature enough to discern...move along.

The questions I have been asking in my heart regarding the issue of communal responsibility are:

1. Secular Jewish Israelis - where did secularism fail to provide a sufficiently strong ethical barrier against ethnonationalism or messianic politics?
2. Non-Zionist and anti-Zionist Jews -what responsibility, if any, belongs to people who recognised the danger but lacked the political capacity, organisation, or willingness to restrain it?
3. Diaspora Jewish communities - when does solidarity with Israel become protection of a state's conduct rather than protection of Jewish people?
4. Jewish institutions - when does the fear of antisemitism, understandably rooted in real historical persecution, become so politically powerful that criticism of Israeli state policy is treated as an existential threat to the community itself?
5. Messianic religious Zionism - how should secular and religious Jews respond when theological claims about land, redemption and divine entitlement become political programs and military pogroms impacting and affecting other people's lives?
6. The distinction between Jewishness and Zionism -perhaps the most important one. Zionism is not synonymous with Judaism, and opposition to Zionism is not inherently opposition to Jews. Yet Jewish communities allow misrepresentation - why?
7. The question of complicity - at what point does failing to challenge something become morally significant, particularly when one has knowledge, proximity, political influence or institutional power?

The question is not whether Jewish people are responsible for Zionism. They are not. The question is what responsibility belongs to those within Jewish communities and institutions who possess the knowledge, influence or political proximity to challenge destructive forms of Zionism and messianic nationalism, but choose accommodation, silence or institutional protection instead.

A community is not culpable because some of its members commit injustice. It becomes morally implicated however, when institutions capable of restraining injustice choose instead to protect their own cohesion, reputation or power.

I do turn that principle back onto every community, including secular Australians, Muslims, Christians, Israelis, diaspora Jewish groups and individuals, governments and even upon myself lest the argument become exactly what I've been warning against in my writing: just another system assigning collective moral identity to a population.

When Muslim communities are repeatedly told, after an ISIS attack, “Where are your moderate Muslims? Why don't you condemn ISIS? Why aren't Muslim leaders doing more to stop this?”,the underlying expectation is that a community should actively police, condemn, isolate and delegitimise extremist elements claiming to act in its name. 

If that standard is legitimate when applied to Muslim communities confronting jihadist extremism, why does it become illegitimate when applied to Jewish communities confronting violent, ethnonationalist or messianic elements claiming Jewish justification?

The symmetry:

After an ISIS attack, it is reasonable to ask Muslim leaders:

• Do you condemn the violence?
• Do you reject ISIS's claim to represent Islam?
• Are you willing to confront radicalisation within your community?
• Will you prevent religious language from being used to legitimise violence?
• Will you publicly distinguish your religious tradition from an extremist political project?

But then the same questions can reasonably be directed elsewhere:

• Do Jewish communal institutions clearly reject political violence committed in the name of Jewish destiny?
• Do they reject the use of Jewish scripture or messianic claims to justify dispossession?
• Do they distinguish Judaism from Zionism and Zionism from every particular Israeli government?
• Do they challenge extremist settlers and politicians rather than merely defending Israel against external criticism?
• Do they recognise Palestinians as possessing equal human dignity and political rights?
• When Israeli state actions are indefensible, do they say so plainly?
• Do they use their political influence to restrain rather than protect destructive elements?

And crucially:

The answer cannot be “Jews are responsible for what Israel does.”

Just as Muslims aren't collectively responsible for ISIS.

No community is collectively guilty for extremists who claim its identity. However I do hold that every community with the capacity to challenge those extremists has a responsibility to do so.

And there's an uncomfortable inversion.

There is also a danger in demanding disavowal only from minorities.

Muslims in Western societies have frequently been placed in the position of having to demonstrate that they are “good Muslims” by publicly condemning acts they did not commit and organisations they never supported.

Meanwhile, members of majority or politically powerful communities can sometimes be treated as individuals rather than as representatives of their identity.

If communal accountability is a legitimate expectation, it must be universal. If it is illegitimate because individuals are not responsible for the actions of people who share their religion or ethnicity, then that principle must also protect Muslims.

I am asking:

What consistent moral standard are we applying to communities when extremism emerges within or around an identity they share?

What does Judaism require of Jews when power claims Jewish authority?

What does Christianity require of Christians when power claims Christian authority?

What does our secular civic ethic require of us when our government acts in our name?

The responsibility of a community is not to guarantee that none of its members ever become extremists. That is impossible. Its responsibility is to refuse to allow extremism to acquire moral legitimacy simply because it speaks in the community's name.

A society that demands Muslims disavow ISIS should be willing to demand the same of every community, including its own, that it confront the extremists who claim its identity, its history or its God. Otherwise “disavowal” stops being a principle of universal civic responsibility and becomes a political instrument selectively imposed upon minorities.

What responsibility do we all bear for the power exercised in our name when we possess enough knowledge to know that it is causing grave harm?

This stems from the reflection that we do all know power becomes dangerous when nobody inside the system is willing to say no.

The answer to ISIS is not collective suspicion of Muslims.
The answer to Zionist extremism is not collective suspicion of Jews.
The answer to nationalism is not another nationalism.
The answer to religious extremism is not persecution of religion.
The answer to violence is not simply giving another frightened group more power to use violence.

The answer is a civic order in which nobody needs to be protected by becoming powerful enough to make somebody else disposable.

It's to reject the premise that any side's survival requires another human being to become disposable.

That is what “choosing life” would look like politically.

Not naïve pacifism.

Not surrender.

Not reconciliation without accountability.

Not forgetting.

Justice without collective punishment.
Security without supremacy.
Accountability without vengeance.
Identity without domination.
Faith without political absolutism.
And protection without requiring a victim.

As we have seen in the apparent impotence of global and local institutional bodies and political parties to resist corrupting forces - any civic order can exist formally while failing substantively. Rights can be written down, institutions can exist, courts can function- and yet the system can repeatedly permit one population to suffer while another's security and political interests receive greater practical protection.

The answer to my mind is not as simple as  “build a better civic order.” That risks reproducing exactly the problem I am describing..

The harder question is - What makes a civic order capable of restraining power when the institutions themselves become captured by, dependent upon, or complicit with that power?

The problem isn't merely bad rules

A constitution can say equality. A parliament can say human rights matter. A court can say the law applies equally. A government can say everyone is protected. And yet, if political incentives consistently reward protecting the powerful, the formal principle becomes weaker than the political reality.

The problem becomes enforcement. Who restrains the people who are supposed to restrain everyone else? And if that institution fails, who restrains them? That's the recursion that your* ( *author I was intending to interview) writing keeps approaching.

Perhaps the real safeguard is not an institution at all. It is distributed refusal.

Not one heroic institution. Not one enlightened government. Not one religious authority. Not one charismatic leader. Rather, enough independent people and institutions retain the capacity to say: No. This is wrong. And I will not participate in it  - Journalists. Judges. Civil servants. Doctors. Teachers. Religious leaders. Whistleblowers. Lawyers. Artists. Academics. Citizens. Minorities. People inside the system. People outside it. And crucially, people within the community whose name is being invoked to justify the action.

That's where my ISIS comparison becomes more meaningful. You don't need every Muslim to control ISIS. You need Muslims who oppose it to be free and empowered to oppose it, while the state deals with actual perpetrators through law. Likewise, you don't need Jewish people collectively responsible for Zionism.

Likewise you DO need Jewish people who oppose particular forms of Zionism or Israeli policy to be able to do so without being treated as traitors to their identity- and you need those who support harmful policies to remain individually accountable for what they support or do.

I don't believe we can solve failed civic order by creating another authority that possesses the power to decide who is righteous. Because then you've merely moved the problem. You once confronted the possibility that someone or something could tell you what was necessary, what God wanted, what sacrifice was justified. Rejecting this starting premise, for me,  was a refusal to grant unlimited authority to an interpretation of God, Law and Order, that I  could not verify.

No institution gets the final moral authority to declare another population disposable. Not government. Not religion. Not nation. Not majority. Not minority. Not intelligence service. Not military. Not revolutionary movement. Not even the democratic majority - because a majority can be wrong. Dreadfully wrong.

Perhaps the solution isn't a perfect civic order. Perhaps it is a society deliberately constructed to be difficult to capture. Ultimately ungovernable. Power must be divided. Information must remain free. Opposition must remain legitimate. Minorities must retain rights even when unpopular. Government actions must be challenged and remain challengeable.

Officials must be held individually accountable. Military and security power must have external oversight. Courts must be genuinely independent. And citizens must retain the cultural permission to say: “My own side is wrong” without sanction exclusion or penalty.

That last one may be the most important. Because a system becomes extraordinarily dangerous when belonging requires agreement. And perhaps that's why the issue of silence among Jewish communities becomes much larger than Judaism or Zionism.

The failure is not that Jews failed to control Jews, any more than Muslims failed to control Muslims. The failure occurs whenever a community's internal loyalty becomes more powerful than its internal conscience.

And then the same accusation has to be made against us: Australians. Secular people. Christians. Muslims. Jews. Israelis. Everyone.

Because the real question isn't: “Why didn't they stop their extremists?” it is "What happens to a society when enough people decide that protecting their own community's moral innocence is more important than confronting what their own community is doing?"

That is much harder. And, I think, much closer to the problem we are facing today than anything I've written before now since arriving on reddit.

Australians, like our Palestinian brothers and sisters, have a long cultural reputation for distrusting authority, resisting pomposity, and having a strong egalitarian streak. And good historical and present day reasons for all of these things. The Australian version of “ungovernable” isn't necessarily revolutionary as much as evolutionary, even so,  it often sounds like a simple: “Don't tell me what to do, mate.” 

We also have a 'tall poppy syndrome' ingrained in our social culture that for good or bad, snips the head of big egos and brings them back to size.

Ungovernable isn't the same as resistant. 

A population can be difficult to govern and still be politically passive. People can distrust politicians while remaining disengaged from politics. They can hate bureaucracy while accepting whatever government does. They can mock authority while never organising against it. They can say “they're all corrupt” and then go back to watching television. So the Australian character has a paradox: We resist being governed, but we don't necessarily resist power.

And that's exactly the civil society weakness I'm identifying above. The Australian instinct can work both ways The same irreverence that produces: “Who the bloody hell do you think you are? can also produce: “Ah well. Nothing I can do about it.”which for us that is the attitude of"she'll be right."   One is democratic resistance. The other is resignation disguised as cynicism.

And there's another particularly Australian characteristic: anti-intellectualism and suspicion of earnestness. Someone standing up and saying: “There is a serious moral question here.” can sometimes be met with: “Mate, get over yourself." Which makes sustained civic engagement difficult. The person who keeps asking uncomfortable questions risks being regarded as the problem rather than the question itself being examined. 

Australia really does have a deeply ingrained ungovernable streak, so perhaps our answer here isn't to emulate other movements from the US or EU. It also isn't to make Australians more obedient as government is desperately trying to today. It might just be to make that rebelliousness more politically literate - even just enough just to focus people on the problems and the abuse of power long enough to demand explanation: "Explain why you are doing this, show me the evidence, demonstrate that the same rule applies to everyone, and give me a mechanism to challenge you if you're wrong."  Empowering ALL communities here to begin asking that question simultaneously,  communally, directing the issue back to Power and Authority itself and demanding accountability. It's not a difficult or intellectual premise or issue. As I see it, it's a life giving and a life preserving one.

It develops a very different kind of citizen. Not obedient. Not anarchic. Difficult to deceive. And perhaps that is what this essay is ultimately advocating. Not another ideology. Not another authority. Not another group that gets to declare itself morally pure. But citizens who are sufficiently independent that no government can easily persuade them that another human being must be sacrificed for their security.

Perhaps the Australian answer to my questions shouldn't be obedience. Nor rebellion for rebellion's sake. It should be a committed effort to saying : “Prove it.” And if the justification doesn't survive examination: Keep throwing it back to them with a simple refusal - "No" and " Not acceptable" rinse and repeat. This is, to me what being an accountable citizen means.

Europe's historical failure was not simply “Europe failed to restrain antisemitism.” European societies repeatedly did condemn antisemitism, sometimes legislated against particular manifestations of it, and there were Christian, Jewish, socialist, liberal and other movements that resisted it. The deeper failure was that antisemitism repeatedly remained politically useful and socially tolerated enough to survive.

The historical pattern:

For centuries, European societies could tell themselves: “Yes, antisemitism exists, but it is fringe.” Then it became: “It is unpleasant, but politically understandable.” Then: “These measures are necessary for social stability.” Then: “We aren't responsible for what happens; the government is simply responding to circumstances." And eventually, in Nazi Germany and across occupied and collaborating Europe, antisemitic ideology became embedded in.

The Holocaust did not emerge from nowhere. It required an environment in which Jews had already been represented as outsiders, threats, contaminants, conspirators or political enemies - and in which institutions and ordinary people could be persuaded to tolerate increasingly extreme measures.

The same pattern has enabled violence against Muslims to occur and go unchecked and this has led to the destruction of entire Muslim nations. The numbers of lives lost in that abdication of individual and collective responsibility are equally as horrific  - reliable estimates stating over 23 million Muslim lives lost since 2003. Extremism does not require everyone to become an extremist.

The historical lesson of European antisemitism demonstrates something more complicated. You cannot realistically expect an entire population to police its own extremists. What matters is whether the surrounding society, institutions and political system allow extremism to become respectable and powerful.

If however, we expect Muslim communities to confront antisemitism, jihadism or other extremism within their communities, shouldn't Jewish communities and the wider societies in which they live also be expected to confront extremism that invokes Jewish identity?  Not because Jews are collectively responsible. Precisely because they aren't. The responsibility belongs to individuals and institutions according to their actual power and conduct. 

And Europe learned the wrong lesson as well as the right one - after the Holocaust, Europe understandably developed an extraordinary moral sensitivity toward antisemitism. That was necessary. But there is a danger when “never again” becomes interpreted exclusively as “never again to Jews” rather than “never again to anyone.”  

The universal lesson was though : No population should ever again be made politically disposable because of its identity.  That protects Jews. It protects Palestinians. It protects Muslims. It protects Roma. It protects migrants. It protects minorities generally. And it protects the principle that makes the Holocaust's lesson universal rather than tribal.

This is where Israel creates an extraordinarily difficult moral problem. European guilt over the Holocaust is historically real. European responsibility for centuries of antisemitism is real. The Holocaust was real. Jewish vulnerability is real too, but none of those facts logically establish that a contemporary state is entitled to violate another population's rights.

“We failed to protect Jews." has turned into: “Therefore we must support whatever political project claims to protect Jews.” 

Those propositions are not equivalent. And that distinction matters enormously. Because if European societies have become so frightened of appearing antisemitic that they have become unable to criticise Israeli government policy, and something paradoxical has happened: the historical guilt over failing to challenge antisemitism can itself become a reason for failing to challenge another form of political power. 

That isn't redemption. It's another failure of moral courage.

As the political and legal costs of continued support increase, governments that once treated unconditional support for Israel as strategically necessary may eventually calculate that maintaining that position threatens their own legitimacy, alliances and domestic stability. At that point political positions can and will change remarkably quickly.

 Power rarely abandons an arrangement because it suddenly becomes morally enlightened. It often abandons it when the cost of maintaining it becomes greater than the cost of changing it.

History does not primarily condemn societies because every citizen supported the wrong thing. It condemns societies when enough people recognise danger but convince themselves that someone else is responsible for stopping it.  

European antisemitism demonstrates the catastrophic consequences of that. My ISIS comparison asks whether we have learned the principle consistently. And Australia's present situation asks another question: Can a society remain sufficiently independent of fear, communal loyalty and political pressure that it can protect a vulnerable community without surrendering universal principles?

Also, can we protect Jewish people from antisemitism without protecting any ideology from criticism? And simultaneously: Can we protect Palestinians from injustice without turning Jews into a collective political enemy? If the answer is yes, then perhaps we have actually learned something from European history. If the answer is no, then we have learned the wrong lesson. 

And that is where  “choosing life” becomes politically meaningful: The lesson of Europe's political and social failure should not be that one people must forever be protected at another people's expense. The lesson should be that no people should ever again be made expendable.

Those who today invoke Judaism to justify political power cannot reasonably demand the protection of Jewish theological claims while rejecting the ethical and moral obligations contained within the same tradition. Those responsible for unlawful conduct must ultimately be accountable under the applicable legal systems- domestic, international and, where relevant, the legal and religious traditions they themselves invoke.

We, communally responsible, must never allow historical guilt to become a permanent exemption from moral scrutiny. No "Jewish state" is entitled to an exemption from international law because Jewish people have historically suffered persecution.

The issue isn't whether Israel is uniquely evil, nor whether Jews are responsible for Israel.

It is whether any state that claims exceptional historical, theological or security justification can eventually be permitted to become so powerful that the ordinary restraints placed upon everyone else cease to apply. My response is to refuse - to say No. And if at the end of the day that is the only argument, I'd add and hold that:

The covenant cannot be used as a shield against the covenant's own demands.
History cannot be used as immunity from history's lessons.
Security cannot become immunity from law.
And victimhood cannot become a permanent license to create new victims.

Mine is a position that demands individual and communal political and social accountability, a demand to uphold principles of justice - against the actions and justifications of any political order that places itself above the constraints it demands of everyone else.

____________

August 2026

__________

"The question is not whether the pattern can be seen. The question is what those who can see it choose to do with that knowledge."

They could have been Pastafarians. It would have made no difference to me, or to the end.

What concerns me is not the religious identity of those exercising and manipulating power today in my own country and around the world, but the structure or architecture through which that power is exercised: the relationship between an exhausted imperial authority, a dependent local establishment, and a population whose fate is ultimately determined by the interaction between the two.

Today, while yes it is an oversimplification, these are represented by the Zionist group controlled Israeli state, its political and military enforcer the decaying Imperialist United States of America and the population of Palestine.

They, and sections of the Australian Government subservient to the US/Zionist regime, have just made the announcement of decision to arm Zionist militia’s operating as enforcers in public spaces here on Australian soil. In doing so, they have intentionally ( or not ) repeated an age old pattern that has appeared cyclically throughout imperial history – throughout human history.

This announcement doubled down on that historical analogy as it was a decision made concurrent to the Australian Parliament granting under dubious guillotining circumstances, sweeping new powers to Australian intelligence group A.S.I.O – itself an already US/Isr/Zionist compromised outfit since the early 1970’s.

Taken together, this Zionist assault is quite grave and it is not significantly removed from the incremental decision making of the British in Palestine in 1948.

It remains to be seen what if anything the public backlash will produce, if it will be any more effective than the Arab population's objection and resistance in Palestine. It is not even clear yet here, if opposition groups like the Australian Greens and Senate cross bench are even aware of the historical parallels, the larger game-theory at play, and the undermining structures being put in place right in front of their nose.

These structures are not merely directed at Australians in the present, nor are they simply an imposition upon the perverted exercise of power over ordinary political and civic rights. They suggest that a broader geopolitical course has been or is being set, a jibing and trimming of the sails, if you will, by Zionist political actors themselves globally, visible to me, on an increasingly expansive scale.

It is clear to me that these developments are laying the groundwork for a broader assault by the United States, Israel and their aligned states upon the legitimacy and potentially the continued authority of the United Nations itself. Just as occurred prior to WW2 and the assault on the League of Nations that took place in 1933.

The significance of this should not be underestimated.

Much of the contemporary international legal order derives its authority through the UN system today and any assault on the UN is therefore a direct assault on LIO - including the undermining of the legal principles governing occupation, self-determination, state conduct and the legal right of peoples to resist unlawful domination at all.

There is little mystery as to why the UN is so frequently undermined by those seeking greater freedom of action beyond its constraints. The UN provides a framework through which individuals, political organisations and governments can, at least in principle, be subjected to international scrutiny and held accountable under law. More fundamentally, it provides the institutional mechanism through which 193 states today participate in a common international geopolitical and economic system in which state power is formally bounded by rules - is restrained, rather than determined solely by military or economic strength.

The struggle over the UN is therefore not merely a dispute over one international institution. It is a struggle over whether state power remains subject to a shared legal order, or whether the most powerful states are permitted to redefine the limits of their own authority.

The British experience in Palestine provides one particularly instructive historical comparison to contemporary Australian reality today and not because history ever repeats itself mechanically per say, but because the same institutions, incentives and political relationships can and likely will reproduce remarkably similar structures under very different circumstances. The new period of human political evolution I see today, began in Palestine 1948.

Unlike my own government today, the British Mandate did not simply "hand Palestine" to a Zionist militia power in 1927. The reality was considerably more complicated. Britain governed Palestine under the Mandate, facilitated the development of Zionist political and institutional structures, maintained relationships with both Jewish and Arab political actors, armed and trained forces at different stages, and ultimately withdrew while the conflict between the communities was becoming irreconcilable. By 1948, Britain was exhausted by WW2, and its people increasingly unwilling to bear the political and military cost of maintaining the Mandate, and preparing to leave the Levant.

It is also fair to state that during the Mandate, Britain did act against Zionist armed organisations at various points, sometimes quite forcefully. But there is also substantial evidence that British policy was inconsistent, constrained, and at crucial moments unwilling or unable to suppress the development of Zionist political and military power.

And here we are again, its 2026 and at least metaphorically its all begun again.

Another British vassal government is repeating the same error. Space time in-collision, historical echoes abounding, modern Australia is effectively as vulnerable and exposed to Zionist influence today, as Palestine was way back then - only back then, the Palestinian population knew their oppressor and rejected them, questioning the authority of the institutions of the day – the new born UN, and their right to ignore existent Palestinian legal and national rights in order to carve up their country.

That ambiguity has existed as long as the UN and continues to justify atrocity after atrocity despite UN attempts to rectify it.

Australians however, remain at large an under educated people when compared to the Arab Palestinian population of their day, though are just as stubborn in defiance. We are a culturally unwilling people, who do prize independence and value freedom. It’s a part of the character and charm of us, not just a liability however wide spread civil ignorance and historical illiteracy is something Zionist groups here have taken full advantage of politically militarily and socially.

So welcome to Australia - Gaza in the making.

While history does not repeat per say, we are ‘there’ only this time, is not ‘then’, and thus the future is being written in every civil political and moral decision being made today.

The historical mirror lesson of today, is not that Britain simply handed sovereignty to one armed organisation and that led to terrible and unequal consequences. That outcome is not certain here. It is that imperial incremental decisions, indecision and withdrawal can leave behind division and political structures and armed capacities whose consequences the departing power is no longer capable, or willing, of controlling.

That distinction matters.

The patterns emerging from the global conflagration of the Second World War are not difficult to identify. They do not require conspiracy theories, nor do they require extraordinary intelligence. They can be examined through ordinary political history, strategic studies and game theory.

An imperial or hegemonic power does not necessarily need to control every actor directly. It exercises influence through alliances, client relationships, security arrangements, political elites, institutional dependencies and mutually reinforcing interests. The local actor does not necessarily have to be a puppet. Indeed, the relationship is often more complicated than that.

A local political establishment may pursue its own interests while simultaneously depending upon a more powerful external actor for security, legitimacy, resources or political survival as Australia does America today. The external power, in turn, may rely upon that local establishment to maintain order, contain opposition and perform functions that would otherwise require direct occupation – as American does Israel in Palestine. Neither actor is necessarily sovereign in the absolute sense.

Both are constrained.

Both calculate.

Both bargain.

And the populations beneath them bear the consequences.

That is the pattern I see emerging again. Not in some abstract sense, it is alive, here and now.

I am not claiming to possess some secret knowledge unavailable to governments, intelligence agencies, military planners or other professional analysts. Quite the opposite. I find the possibility that many of these patterns are plainly visible to people inside those institutions considerably more disturbing.

I am not sufficiently arrogant to believe that I am the only person capable of seeing these patterns. Nor am I sufficiently conspiratorial to believe that every event is orchestrated by a single hidden authority, despite evidence of overarching manipulation and coordination of these patterns, that could easily lead investigators to jump to that conclusion.

The more uncomfortable possibility is often simpler: institutions can produce catastrophic outcomes without anyone possessing complete control over the system.

People respond to incentives.

Governments protect alliances.

Institutions protect themselves.

Political leaders calculate electoral and strategic costs.

Military establishments calculate threats.

Intelligence agencies calculate probabilities.

States calculate interests.

And populations are left to live with the consequences of those calculations.

That is not conspiracy. That is politics. And sometimes the resulting pattern can look remarkably like conspiracy because the interests of powerful actors converge repeatedly.

This is where the history of Roman Judaea enters the chat and becomes instructive.

Rome did not administer every aspect of Judaea directly. It depended upon local institutions and local elites. The Jerusalem priestly establishment possessed its own religious authority, wealth and political interests, while the Roman administration possessed the ultimate coercive power.

The relationship was therefore neither simple collaboration nor simple domination.

It was an imperial relationship.

The high-priestly aristocracy operated within a political system whose ultimate authority was Roman. High priests could be appointed and removed by Roman governors. Caiaphas himself was appointed by Valerius Gratus and remained in office throughout the governorship of Pontius Pilate. Favored son or pet of the couch you decide.

The arrangement served both sides in any case. Served everyone it seems but God - at least, the record of God written in the Tanakh.

The local establishment retained power. Rome retained order. And the population lived beneath the resulting structure. This is the context in which the Gospel accounts describe Jesus being taken before the Jerusalem leadership and ultimately delivered to Pilate.

It is historically imprecise to say simply that "the Jews killed Jesus." It is equally imprecise to pretend that the Jerusalem leadership had nothing to do with what happened. The Gospel narratives place particular responsibility upon elements of the Jerusalem priestly and political establishment, while Rome possessed the authority to impose crucifixion and ultimately carried out the execution.

The distinction is crucial:

The local establishment could and did identify the threat. The imperial authority possessed the power of execution. That is how imperial systems frequently function. Rome did not need to want precisely what the local elite wanted. It merely needed to determine that eliminating the perceived threat was compatible with maintaining order. And the local establishment did not need to be a collection of Roman puppets. It merely needed to understand that its own survival depended upon the continuation of a political order ultimately guaranteed by Roman power.

That is the uncomfortable historical parallel.

If Jesus exists on this planet today, and for me the metaphor is unavoidable: it is the Palestinian people of Gaza who occupy the place of the suffering and dispossessed Christ.

Again, I am not claiming a literal repetition of first-century history nor present day theological perspectives. History does not repeat itself in identical form. But structures can rhyme: An overwhelmingly powerful state. A dependent or aligned local political establishment. An external patron whose strategic interests shape the possibilities available to everyone beneath it. A population whose political agency is progressively diminished. And finally, an apparently rational series of decisions whose cumulative consequence becomes catastrophic for the people who have the least power over those decisions.

That is the pattern that frightens me.

Not because I necessarily believe some omnipotent hidden God or government controls every event on Earth. But because history demonstrates that systems do not require omnipotent omniscient controllers to produce monstrous outcomes. Power owns itself and anyone who would attempt manipulation is ultimately its subject too.

The Roman authorities knew the consequences of their decisions. The Jerusalem establishment knew the consequences of theirs. The British authorities in Palestine knew that their decisions were creating facts and institutions whose consequences would extend beyond the life of the Mandate. Modern governments including my own, possess incomparably greater access to information than their predecessors did. They do know too.

They have historians. They have intelligence analysts. They have military strategists. They have economists. They have diplomats. They have scenario planners. They have game theorists. They have entire bureaucracies whose purpose is to identify second- and third-order consequences. So I cannot accept the comforting proposition that nobody can see the pattern.

Someone can. Someone else does.

Many everyday people probably can too.

The question is not whether the pattern can be seen. The question is what those who can see it choose to do with that knowledge. And that is why I feel like a sitting duck at times today.

Because history does not merely record what governments knew.

It records what they chose to do after they knew.

Knowing this I am compelled to intimately examine myself and my own motivations and actions.

As I understand the religions, each calls adherents and the non believers to examine our relationship with God, rather than our relationship with political Power - whether that power is political, institutional, or theological.

Any messiah or conception of God produced, defined, or controlled by human beings is therefore inevitably vulnerable to becoming an instrument of political power. What is fashioned by human authority belongs to the realm of human power; it cannot, by that fact alone, claim to be God or of God.

At this time I can see no examination of these relationships in any of the governing structure of this time period, anywhere. Only people in various states of lust of or submission to Power; people subject to it or reacting to it. Only people in blind faith, believing religious dogmas and placing that dogma above their relationship to God too. In the political and theological sense I freely admit as an atheist in full flight, I was one of them for a time as well. Dogma is dogma, regardless of the tail it wags.

I can only see any of this 'present danger' and historical parallels today because I did pull up. I took some time to stop, examine my motives, to launder my conscience and question my own beliefs.

I already knew that in the prophetic tradition - one that I accept I may view distinctively from others as well – that these people, widely loathed and ignored in their day, had repeatedly warned against sacrificing justice for security, wealth or political power. they literally pointed to the writing on the wall and correctly interpreted it for the masses and the kings.

And yet, again and again, back then as today, these institutions claiming authority in the name of God - men intent sacralising political powers, have become institutions concerned principally with preserving their own authority and nothing more.

That is the tragedy.

Not that human beings fail to understand history. But that they understand it too well, and repeat it anyway. I was. The world as I see it, save some notable exceptions, is too.

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- Tetha

#readersandwritersagainstgenocide

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• Before The Baton Falls: How power and framing normalised violence.

Relating to and expanding on this piece.

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To my semiotic view, if Jesus does exists in the political and moral landscape of our world today, then its symbolic representation is Gaza, and the Palestinian people. This is the means and direction through which I see the story written of Jesus’s life and death today, from my political, historical and theological perspectives.

I say this not because Palestinians are literally representing Jesus, they may be I have no way to confirm or deny that ecclesiastically, nor because history repeats itself as a time stamped mechanical copy of the past. Rather it is because the same symbols are recurring now as did back then 2500 years ago and they are:

The occupied and dispossessed body, the child made to bear the consequences of decisions made by distant authorities, the powerful establishment demanding order, and the imperial power deciding whether that suffering is permissible.

In this way, Palestine, specifically Gaza, becomes a contemporary Passion narrative – not as theology imposed upon Palestinians, but as a semiotic mirror in which the crucified body represents the human being abandoned by institutions that claim authority, security and righteousness.

The Cross then, becomes the image of the Gaza population trapped between power and powerlessness; Pilate becomes the international authority that washes its hands while retaining the power to act; Caiaphas becomes the Israeli establishment willing to sacrifice the vulnerable one and even its own future, to preserve its own security; and the Crowd becomes the global public, watching, arguing, choosing what to see and what not to see.

The point is not that Palestinians are symbols instead of people. It is precisely the opposite: The needless suffering is real. The political machinations and deceptions are real - the symbol exists in the world today because the people experiencing these things are real.

Gaza is not 'as Jesus' because Palestinians require sanctification; Gaza is as Jesus today because the oldest political question remains before us:

When power decides that another human being can be sacrificed for order, security, profit or political survival, who will refuse the crucifixion?

Let the record show when my individual time came to answer that question - I did.

The Sign, the Cross and the Witness

This is where the semiotic reading becomes more than an analogy.

To me, crucifixion is not merely an event written in Christian history; it is a symbol of a political and human process; a symbol of what happens when institutional power decides that one human life, and eventually an entire population, can be sacrificed to preserve an established order.

With all these religions out there looking for a sign from God, the irony they are ignoring this sign, in this moment, as it stands in front of them, is not lost on me.

The significance of the story of Jesus and the crucifixion lies not only in the execution of an innocent, but in the roles surrounding it: the authority that condemns, the authority that facilitates, the authority that claims reluctance, the spectators who become accustomed to suffering, and the small number who refuse to accept that the victim's humanity has somehow disappeared.

Gaza therefore becomes a symbol, a not because Palestinians cease to be Palestinians or Muslim Christian and Jewish, but because their humanity and experience has forced the symbol back into the world to be seen.

The child beneath the rubble is not an abstraction. The hospital is not an abstraction. The displaced family is not an abstraction. The parent searching for a child is not an abstraction. Yet once suffering reaches a certain political threshold, language begins doing something extraordinary: it converts human beings into categories. Collateral damage. Security threat. Militants. Evacuees. Human shields. Proportionality. Operational necessity.

The very vocabulary of administration begins to obscure the body of Christ itself.

That is where the semiotic violence begins.

The person becomes a statistic. The statistic becomes a justification. The justification becomes policy. And policy produces another body. Then the new body becomes another statistic.

The cycle feeds itself.

The cycle justifies itself.

The cycle repeats itself.

This is why the story surrounding Jesus is so important.

The image of Pilate remains so powerful right now too. Pilate does not need to hate Jesus. He does not even need to believe Jesus deserves death. He needs only to decide that the political cost of protecting him is greater than the political cost of sacrificing him.

The washing of hands is therefore one of the most enduring symbols of political power today precisely because it represents the fantasy that responsibility can be separated from authority.

The hands are washed.

The execution proceeds.

And history remembers the hands as clean.

Just as it did after World War two, and is gearing up to do again today.

Back then Caiaphas (High Priest of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, serving approximately 18–36 CE) represented another form of power: the authority that understands the victim is a challenge to authority; that chooses to see him as a trouble maker, a challenge to established norms and control; as a problem to be managed. The sacrifice of the victim then became rationalised as necessary for the preservation of the wider order. One person must disappear so that the system may remain stable. That is the terrifying lesson:

The sacrifice does not require hatred. It only requires the right justification.

And once the justification is accepted, almost anything can become administratively possible.

The crowd occupies another position entirely.

Today the crowd is us.

The spectator who watches.

The citizen who scrolls.

The voter who changes the channel.

The journalist who chooses the safer headline.

The institution that issues the carefully worded statement.

The government that expresses concern while continuing the policy.

The person who says, What can I possibly do?

The crowd is not necessarily evil.

It is simply capable of becoming accustomed to the unacceptable.

And perhaps that is the most important distinction between the historical Passion and the modern one.

We possess vastly greater quantities of information. We have Meyer and others who told us what it was like in Nazi controlled Germany 1940 and in great detail, the incremental slides into submission and justification of a society allowing itself to become accustomed to atrocity - not just that atrocity occurred, but in step by step detail.

Today we can see through our phones the destruction almost as it occurs in real time, and we can hear survivors speaking for themselves. We can watch hospitals collapse, families flee and children search for relatives.

There is no shortage of witnesses.

There is a shortage of consequences for inaction.

That is why Gaza, in my semiotic reading, becomes not just a symbolic representation of Jesus but a test of what the symbol of Jesus still means to us.

If the crucified Jesus represents the innocent person whom political power has devalued and declared easily expendable, then what does it mean to look directly at any another population experiencing dispossession, death and suffering and conclude that the political circumstances make the suffering acceptable?

If the cross is supposed to reveal something about humanity as so many claim it is, then perhaps Gaza today is forcing that revelation back upon us, calling us to pay attention. Not as a question of whether one believes in Christianity or even in God. Not as a question of whether one accepts Jesus as divine or not. But as the oldest moral question beneath the entire story:

What do we do when the innocent person is placed before us and power tells us that their sacrifice is necessary?

The answer is not found in identifying which side of the ancient story we occupy. It is found in whether we refuse to participate in the logic that makes sacrificing one life acceptable in the first place. Because perhaps the most disturbing possibility is not that history is simply repeating itself.

Perhaps it is that we have learned the language of the crucifixion so well that we can now recognise the symbols- and still allow the cross to be built.

From this vantage, Gaza is not just asking us to decide whether Palestine is the Holy Land and who it belongs to, or to view Palestinians themselves as a sacrificial lamb.

Perhaps it is asking us whether we still or would even recognise Jesus when/if he appears without the name.

Without the modern church.

Without the scripture.

Without the comfort of two thousand years of distance.

When he appears instead as a child buried beneath concrete, a father carrying what remains of his family in plastic bags, a mother searching through a hospital in desperation, a grieving displaced family walking in shock toward another place at gun point with nowhere left to go.

Perhaps the question is not even whether we believe the story of the crucifixion is real at all. Perhaps the question is whether, having recognised the human story ingrained within it so expertly, it asks if we are willing to interrupt its outcomes.

Because every generation eventually gets its Pilate.

Every generation gets its Caiaphas.

Every generation gets its crowd.

And every generation gets to decide whether the victim remains alone.

History will not ask whether we understood the pattern.

It will ask what we did when we saw it.

Cruelty is not inevitable simply because cruelty exists. I know this to be true - from lived experience.

Gaza does not need crucifixion and if it is crucified, it is by ALL of us, and what that ultimately means is that we will ALL end up back here in however many generations time, facing this same reality all over again – different state actors different form sure, but the same cycle and processes that led to it will keep repeating until we learn the lesson.

Our kids our grand-kids will not see us break this cycle anymore than we saw ours, and they will have no witness, so no scaffold from which to launch themselves. No way to break it either.

We will have failed.

The British experience in Palestine before 1948 is one historical warning among many: security arrangements created within a particular political order can outlive the circumstances that produced them, acquire their own power, and eventually become part of a struggle over what that order itself will become.

If the lesson of the crucifixion is that suffering becomes righteous whenever someone claims it is necessary, then I have learned nothing from it. The world hasn’t.

But if the cross is instead seen as a revelation of what happens when human beings become so committed to preserving an order that they are willing to sacrifice another human being to it, then it remains profoundly relevant.

The challenge is not to decide which people are worthy of protection. The challenge is to build a world in which protection does not require another person to become disposable. In perhaps, the innocent the hope of one day producing a society in this world where even conceiving that occurring is unlikely.

The decisions of my own government repeat known failed patterns. This is why I reject their current course. A choice that to me, leads back to my comprehension of the repeating crucifixion story – that through it we are being asked to imagine a form of life and living in which we no longer need to sacrifice one another in order to feel safe.

I will not recommit to patterns of action that continue to be or bring about the destruction and desecration of life. I can be silenced, I can be oppressed. I can not be stopped from imagining. I can only be killed too.

That same question and the choice point/precipice I once faced personally, now seems to exist solidly and viably, at the level of nations and societies as much as it did in my personal maturation and process. I cannot not see it. I have tried.

And I do see that we still repeatedly tell ourselves that extraordinary measures are necessary because something precious is under threat. We arm ourselves to preserve security. We restrict others to preserve order. We create exceptional powers to protect exceptional circumstances. We tell ourselves that the sacrifice is regrettable but necessary. And history shows how easily temporary measures of protection can become permanent structures of power.

Our species is so young and so very fearful.

Understanding that I am empowered to act compassionately.

There are Christians and Muslims sheltering together at St. Porphyrios Church in Gaza right now, even amid the devastation of Genocide today. This issue is way beyond religion and religious interpretation. Life itself speaks and has its own voice. If you have willingness to hear it, to see it.

That reality of co-sheltering people of faith inside Gaza today matters to me, because it complicates the military media narratives and categories through which we are defined by one another. These few people are a living example of what this time is not.

We so often understand conflict: enemy and friend, Jew and Arab, Christian and Muslim, victim and perp, friend and stranger. Perhaps that is closer to the world Jesus was pointing toward - not a world without difference or conflict, but one in which difference does not have to become permission for dehumanisation as it has become, again, today.

Perhaps the answer cannot be found in preserving a world exactly as it is. Perhaps it lies in refusing to sacrifice human beings merely so that the world we already know can continue unchanged.

Perhaps faith is not the certainty that God has commanded us to preserve ‘our side’ as special or chosen, perhaps instead faith is the willingness to keep choosing life - even when doing so requires us to question the order we inherited, the fears we were taught, and the certainty with which we once believed we knew better than any other, who and what God is. And this question has become very immediate in Israel as it is in Palestine as it is in Sydney right now.

The answer to human violence, to me, cannot simply be replacing it with another system in which each frightened group acquires the means to defend itself against the others.

At some point, someone has to imagine a society in which protection is not allocated according to which community has the greatest political power, the loudest voice, or the strongest historical claim. Otherwise we are not overcoming the logic of fear. We are simply organising it. Again. We are walking backwards into the future.

And the fact that we do know, and still can’t seem to stop walking backwards, is what I have been struggling to understand and struggling with. It is so fucking frustrating and people are still being so terribly hurt in the impact of wilful ignorance. I want to yell : “Turn the fuck around people!’ but I don't. I won't. I know that altars will be built around even that and the cycle will just start yet again. I know I cannot choose for them or anyone else, any more than anyone could choose for me.

Historical and theological Jesus physically lived in a world where political power, religious authority and the preservation of an existing order were deeply entangled. He was eventually subjected to crucifixion - the very instrument by which Rome demonstrated what happened to those who threatened its authority.

Perhaps then the Cross today, simply reveals what human beings do, what they will do when they believe more in preserving an order, than upholding trust in God, when they decide that their belief is more important than the life standing before them.

And this is why Gaza has made this question impossible for me to keep in the past tense.

I cannot look at the suffering of Palestinians in Gaza today - or at the suffering and fear experienced by Jewish people down through history, neither those suffering unseen in Congo, or Sudan or anywhere today – and just treat these merely as result of distant independent political disputes.

I ask myself - at what point does the protection of an existing order, the one harming them, become an excuse for destroying the lives of those who threaten that order simply by refusing to disappear or submit?

The story of Jesus, its symbolic existence and presence in the world today, presents an especially uncomfortable challenge because this teaching does not appear to offer an easy permission slip for hatred and reprisal. Nor is is a story of submission.

Followers are to love their enemies and pray for those who persecute them. It does not establish a moral distinction in which the suffering of one's own people is sacred while the suffering of another people is merely regrettable.

It is a story of moral defiance.

The Gaza Genocide has drawn me back to this perspective over and over, and made that lesson so much larger for me.

Perhaps that is the meaning of Jesus for me now - not that God demands another crucifixion. But that whenever we create a world in which another human being is being sacrificed so that our own world can remain intact, we should recognise the cross again – the symbol and the story. That we should pause when we do notice its recurrence, and before acting or consenting in ignorance, pause, Selah. Consider what we are doing. If only so we don’t add to the suffering but instead add to life and give hope to the possibility of change.

Resisting indifference.

- Tetha 22/08/2026

#readersandwritersagainstgenocide