“Withdrawing” implies, in whatever vague and euphemistic sense, an end, or at least, a waning of hostilities. But yesterday I woke to discover that the Israeli army has perpetrated a massacre on a scale unseen in Gaza for a long time: 18 dead, including children, women, and the countless faceless others.
All members of the same family. Brushed aside as unfortunate mistakes, with a generous dollop of regret, from an otherwise morally superior, well-intentioned army.
Israeli human rights groups have said it again and again, and it bears reminding once more: There can be no good intentions deriving from an army ordered to fire heavy-grade artillery shells within 100 meters of civilian areas. None.
And I am sick to my stomach. I am sick of hearing the “we regrets” and “sorries” and the empty promises of investigations that never materialize and whose only purpose is to exonerate the accused. I am sick of the well-intentioned “moral” army of “defense” routine, the army that only attempts to attack “militants”, as if to imply the entire occupation is justified if sustained by this absurdist rhetoric. I’m just sick of it all.
We want an end to the occupation. Period.