Zohran Mamdani, the democratic socialist who made history as New York City’s first Muslim mayor, delivered a fiery victory speech last night — one that mixed idealism, populism, and defiance in equal measure. His words echoed the labor struggles of the past while speaking directly to working-class New Yorkers today.
He began with a quote from Eugene Debs:
“The sun may have set over our city this evening, but I can see the dawn of a better day for humanity.”
From there, Mamdani’s message was clear: power was no longer reserved for the wealthy and well-connected.
“Tonight, against all odds, we have grasped it. The future is in our hands.”
Picture: Fast and Free buses in New York City
Throughout his speech, Mamdani painted a vivid portrait of the “new New York” — one built by the city’s diverse working people.
“I speak of Yemeni bodega owners and Mexican abuelas. Senegalese taxi drivers and Uzbek nurses. Trinidadian line cooks and Ethiopian aunties… This city is your city, and this democracy is yours too.”
He connected his campaign to real faces and stories: Wesley, a hospital worker commuting two hours from Pennsylvania; a woman on the Bx33 who said she no longer loved New York; and Richard, the taxi driver he once joined in a 15-day hunger strike.
“My brother, we are in City Hall now,” Mamdani declared — a line that electrified the crowd.
Then came the emotional centerpiece of the speech — a rallying cry that tied hope to transformation:
“We chose hope together. Hope over tyranny. Hope over big money and small ideas. Hope over despair. Tonight, we have stepped out from the old into the new.”
He went on to outline what that “new age” would look like:
“Central to that vision will be the most ambitious agenda to tackle the cost-of-living crisis that this city has seen since the days of Fiorello La Guardia — an agenda that will freeze the rents for more than 2 million rent-stabilized tenants, make buses fast and free, and deliver universal childcare across our city. This new age will be one of relentless improvements. We will hire thousands more teachers. We will cut waste from a bloated bureaucracy.”
He also promised a new approach to safety and justice:
“We will work with police officers to reduce crime and create a department of community safety that tackles the mental health crisis and homelessness crisis head-on. In this new age we make for ourselves, we will refuse to allow those who traffic in division and hate to pit us against one another.”
Mamdani warned against the forces of distraction and division:
“They want the people to fight amongst ourselves so that we remain distracted from the work of remaking a long-broken system.”
His agenda was sweeping: freezing rents, free buses, universal childcare, and stronger unions. He vowed to hold both landlords and billionaires to account — calling out Donald Trump by name several times.
“We will stand alongside unions and expand labor protections because we know, just as Donald Trump does, that when working people have ironclad rights, the bosses who seek to extort them become very small indeed.”
As the crowd cheered, Mamdani tied his personal story to the city’s identity:
“New York will remain a city of immigrants — built by immigrants, powered by immigrants, and, as of tonight, led by an immigrant. I am young. I am Muslim. I am a democratic socialist. And I refuse to apologize for any of this.”
The closing lines were pure optimism:
“Together, New York, we’re going to freeze the rent. Together, New York, we’re going to make buses fast and free. Together, New York, we’re going to deliver universal childcare.”
A Speech of Hope and a Hint of Overreach
Wow. It’s hard to deny the power and passion behind Mamdani’s words. His call for “hope over tyranny” and “hope over big money” struck a chord in a city long divided by inequality. Yet, his repeated attacks on Donald Trump made it sound as if Trump himself were the root of all problems. He’s not. Trump exists because of the problems — economic, social, and political — that stretch far beyond New York.
Still, Mamdani’s vision of a city that “shines again” is bold and contagious. Fast and free buses? Frozen rents? Universal childcare? That’s impressive, no doubt. But it also raises the question — if everything becomes free, what about a free lunch?
A Dream Worth Testing
Whether his promises are realistic or merely rhetorical remains to be seen. Mamdani has set the bar sky-high — and with it, expectations from the same working people he vowed to serve. History has shown that idealism can ignite movements, but it’s delivery that defines leadership. For now, though, his message has done what great speeches do best: it made people believe again — not just in politics, but in possibility.
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and may not reflect those of Shinybull.com. The author has made every effort to ensure the accuracy of the information provided; however, neither Shinybull.com nor the author can guarantee the accuracy of this information. This article is strictly for informational purposes only. It is not a solicitation to make any exchange in precious metal products, commodities, securities, or other financial instruments. Shinybull.com and the author of this article do not accept culpability for losses and/ or damages arising from the use of this publication.
Zohran Mamdani is the next New York City Mayor. He is a muslim, anti-Trump, Anti-capitalist, and will make free buses for the people in New York. At the same time, he will tax the rich. Trump moved out of New York long ago. So do many other wealthy people in New York.
Not only that. More than 1 million Orthodox Jews have escaped New York. Maybe we will see more jews escape New York as a muslim is their new Mayor. Time will show. But, there is no doubt; A massive storm is coming! Put your steel helmet on and fasten your seatbelt.
On the other hand, what we see today is not something new. This is how the system works. It goes, and then it goes down again, and again, and again. The crisis in New York has nothing to do with the Mayor. This is happening all over in the West. It is the system. Not the Mayor.
The Returning Storm: Capitalism’s Crisis & the Echoes of 1848
We hear it again and again: that the system is failing large numbers of people. The working class is struggling, costs are skyrocketing, and the ladder of opportunity seems broken. That’s why many vote for socialists: they look at the system not as a solution, but as the problem. But why does capitalism still persist when it doesn’t work for everyone?
Karl Marx saw it clearly: capitalism is built on the exploitation of workers (the proletariat) by those who own and control the means of production (the bourgeoisie). The extraction of surplus value, alienation of labour, cycles of boom and bust, and rising inequality. He argued that all of it spells eventual collapse, ushering in a socialist revolution.
Maybe what we’re witnessing now is not a violent revolution with barricades and guillotines, but a democratic and social one: a shift in consciousness, a call for new economic arrangements.
A Story That Shows What’s Wrong
Imagine an old woman in Spain who has lived in her apartment for seventy years. Her home is her past, her memories, her identity. Now, an American hedge fund buys the building. Her rent shoots up far beyond what her pension covers. She’s told: “Move out or pay the price.”
What kind of capitalism is this? Where the place you’ve lived your entire life, the neighbourhood you know, becomes a profit asset to someone else, and you, the tenant, are simply a cost-to-be-cut or revenue-to-be-raised.
This isn’t small-scale displacement; it’s systemic.
According to research, private equity firms now own a significant share of the U.S. housing stock, and their business model often involves raising rents, cutting maintenance, and treating homes as profit centres.
When individuals who’ve paid their dues, who’ve worked and saved, are pushed aside so someone else can “monetize” their roof, the legitimacy of the system is damaged.
1848 and the Warning from History
Nine years ago, I wrote an article about the French Revolution, and I need to get back to that story once again. Back in February 1848 in France, the blueprint of revolt was laid bare. The monarchy of Louis Philippe, once hailed as a “Citizen King,” had drifted away from the people. Wages collapsed, food prices soared, and despair turned to anger. When the government repressed the protests, Paris erupted in barricades. The king fled, and a second French Republic was proclaimed.
The lesson is clear: when a system fails the many and protects the few, the many find a voice. When inequality is visible, persistent, and reinforced by institutions that claim neutrality, resistance builds. The revolution of 1848 was not just about a king dying. It was about legitimacy dissolving.
So, Why Do We Still Have Capitalism?
Because it works. For some. Because markets deliver dynamism, innovation, and wealth. If measured for the few. Because institutions decide the rules and often shield the winners. Because alternatives are messy, unproven, and intimidating for those who benefit now.
Yet the crisis is also structural. The logic of profit demands cost-cutting, evictions, rent hikes, financialization of housing, and commodification of basic needs. When a woman who’s lived somewhere for 70 years is priced out overnight, that’s not a bug. It’s a feature of the system.
Are We on the Edge of a New Revolution?
Perhaps. Not in the storm-and-fury sense, but in the long, accumulating demand for change. When politicians like Zohran Mamdani win with promises of free buses, rent freezes, and groceries for all, the message is: the old order is brittle. The working class has been squeezed too long. The vote is a signal.
But the storm won’t vanish just with promises. The funding model matters. The rents, taxes, business flight, and investment flows. All these determine whether change can be real or become another wave of disappointment.
The Elderly Woman and the Bigger Question
When you see her story. 70 years of life, on a fixed income, facing eviction because of global capital chasing returns, you understand what’s at stake. It’s not just housing. It’s dignity. It’s the promise of stability. It’s the belief that society isn’t only for the rich.
And when capitalism no longer delivers that promise for large swathes of people, then the logic of Marx begins to look less like ideology and more like prophecy.
In 1848 they overthrew a king. In 2025 they may overthrow the illusion. The illusion that capitalism still works for everyone.
The storm is coming
It might be messy. It might be uncomfortable. But history shows us that when systems stop working for most people, change happens. So ask yourself:
Are we watching the death of the promise of capitalism as we knew it? Or are we witnessing its evolution — into something fairer, more inclusive, more human?
Closing thought
In 1848, they forced the king to abdicate. Today, maybe we don’t need to kill a king. We need to kill the illusion that this system works for everyone. Change isn’t coming tomorrow. It’s already knocking at the door.
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and may not reflect those of Shinybull.com. The author has made every effort to ensure the accuracy of the information provided; however, neither Shinybull.com nor the author can guarantee the accuracy of this information. This article is strictly for informational purposes only. It is not a solicitation to make any exchange in precious metal products, commodities, securities, or other financial instruments. Shinybull.com and the author of this article do not accept culpability for losses and/ or damages arising from the use of this publication.
Ordinary people in Gaza hate Hamas and want to get rid of it. But how easy is that when we all know they rule Gaza with an iron fist? If you disagree with them, they will simply silence you. Or kill you. And that’s what’s happening in Gaza right now.
Once Hamas claims to seek peace with Israel, it soon turns its weapons on its own people. Who, then, is Hamas, and what are they really doing?
Origins of Hamas
Hamas (Ḥarakat al-Muqāwamah al-ʾIslāmiyyah — “Islamic Resistance Movement”) was founded in 1987 during the First Intifada. It grew out of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, promoting a radical Islamist ideology that rejects Israel’s right to exist.
Its 1988 charter openly called for Israel’s destruction and the creation of an Islamic state over all of historical Palestine. From the beginning, Hamas mixed social welfare with terrorism, using religious faith and nationalism to recruit followers and strengthen control.
Brainwashing and Indoctrination
We can ask ourselves where all this hate comes from. But it’s not hard to understand when you see how Hamas uses propaganda and fear to shape generations.
The Nazis once said that a lie repeated enough times becomes the truth. The same can be said about Hamas.
In schools, mosques, and media, they constantly repeat messages of hatred against Jews and Israel. Children are taught that dying as a “martyr” is the greatest honor. The organization glorifies violence and uses religion as a tool of manipulation. This is how the terrorist organization Hamas is recruiting suicide bombers to attack innocent people in Israel.
The Years of Terror
Before Israel built its security barrier (the wall) along the Gaza border, Hamas repeatedly sent young suicide bombers into Israel, especially during the Second Intifada (2000–2005). Civilians were the main targets. People on buses, in cafés, markets, and restaurants.
Some of the worst attacks included:
Jerusalem Sbarro Restaurant bombing (2001): 15 killed, over 100 injured.
Dolphinarium disco bombing (2001): 21 young people killed.
Hebrew University bombing (2002): 9 killed, including U.S. citizens.
Even before Israel’s withdrawal from Gaza in 2005, militants in Gaza, including Hamas, began firing rockets and mortars into southern Israel. Towns like Sderot and Ashkelon have lived under constant threat ever since.
In 2006, Hamas fighters kidnapped Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit, holding him captive for over five years before finally releasing him in exchange for over 1,000 Palestinian prisoners, many of whom had blood on their hands.
Hamas’s Control Over Gaza
Since taking full control of Gaza in 2007, Hamas has turned the area into both a fortress and a prison. They suppress political opponents, control the media, and punish anyone who dares to speak against them.
Billions in international aid meant for rebuilding homes and hospitals have instead been used to build tunnels, buy rockets, and train new fighters.
Ordinary Gazans are the real victims. Trapped between Hamas’s authoritarian rule and the consequences of its endless wars.
What`s disappointing about this case is the legacy media`s unbalanced reports from the conflict. We often hear from poor civilians in Gaza. They usually lie, and sometimes they say people have no home and that it’s cold in Gaza. The fact is that the weather is hot.
The Hidden Face of Hate: When “Support for Gaza” Becomes Antisemitism
In the weeks and months following every escalation in Gaza, television screens, social media feeds, and newspaper headlines fill with global protests and statements of “solidarity with Gaza.” Many of these come from people who genuinely care about the suffering of civilians, and compassion is vital. But somewhere along the way, something darker has mixed in: a growing wave of disguised antisemitism, hate hidden beneath the surface of supposed “support.”
From Sympathy to Scapegoating
It begins with empathy. People reacting to images of destruction, mourning the deaths of children, and demanding peace. But in protest slogans and online comments, empathy often turns into something else:
“Zionists” becomes a code word for “Jews.”
Calls for “Free Palestine” are twisted into chants like “From the river to the sea,” which deny Israel’s right to exist.
Jewish students, shops, and synagogues in Europe and the U.S. face vandalism or threats, even though they have nothing to do with the Israeli government.
This isn’t solidarity. It’s scapegoating. The line between political protest and racial or religious hate has blurred.
How Hate Disguises Itself
Modern antisemitism rarely looks like the open hatred of the 1930s. Today, it hides behind political and moral language, calling itself “anti-Zionism,” “human rights activism,” or “decolonization.” But the pattern is the same: blame all Jews for the actions of a few, question their right to safety, and deny their history.
In some university protests, Jewish students have been told to “go back to Poland.”
Online, “pro-Gaza” threads are flooded with conspiracy theories about Jews controlling governments or media.
In demonstrations, Israeli flags are burned alongside slogans calling for “intifada” or “death to the occupiers.”
These aren’t calls for justice. They’re echoes of history, and they’re dangerous.
A Moral Test for the West
True solidarity with Palestinians means demanding an end to terror and manipulation. Not cheering for those who fire rockets from schoolyards. Genuine peace means condemning antisemitism wherever it appears, even when it hides behind fashionable activism.
The West now faces a moral test: Can we support innocent people in Gaza without reviving one of humanity’s oldest hatreds? Can we tell the difference between compassion and hate?
The answer depends on honesty and courage. Because antisemitism doesn’t vanish when it changes its name. It only grows stronger in the shadows.
The Media’s Blind Spot
Mainstream media often amplifies this confusion. In their effort to highlight humanitarian crises, many journalists avoid distinguishing between legitimate criticism of Israeli policy and antisemitic rhetoric. As a result, the public conversation becomes one-sided: Israeli military actions are headline news, while Hamas’s use of human shields, executions of civilians, and years of rocket attacks barely make the front page.
This selective storytelling doesn’t just distort reality. It feeds resentment. It reinforces the false idea that Jews are “the oppressors” and Palestinians “the victims,” without showing that both societies suffer under extremists like Hamas.
The Echo of Lies: How Hate Survives Through Propaganda
Hate rarely starts as hate. It begins as a whisper — a repeated story, a single narrative told again and again until it becomes a kind of truth. History has shown us this pattern many times before. The Nazis understood it all too well: “Repeat a lie often enough, and it becomes the truth.” That same dark psychology is alive today, in new forms and new places.
We see it in Gaza, where Hamas indoctrinates generations through education, media, and religion. Not to seek peace, but to preserve conflict. From childhood, people are taught not only to distrust but to despise. Over time, these beliefs stop feeling like opinions and start feeling like identity. When that happens, reason and compassion disappear.
But this manipulation doesn’t end there. Across the world, much of what we see in legacy media now echoes a similar distortion — not always intentional, but often biased. The story becomes simplified: one side good, one side evil. Complex truths are ignored because they don’t fit the headline. And beneath this imbalance, something ancient and dangerous grows, a modern form of antisemitism disguised as “support for the oppressed.”
People march in the streets, believing they are standing for justice, yet their chants echo the slogans of those who would destroy, not build. Sympathy for innocent civilians in Gaza, which is both human and necessary, is twisted into hatred toward Jews as a whole. It’s a trap of perception, built by years of selective narratives and emotional manipulation.
Meanwhile, Hamas continues to spend vast sums on weapons and tunnels instead of schools and hospitals. Iran and other foreign actors feed this machine of destruction, funding the tools of war while ordinary people suffer in poverty. And still, the cameras turn, the slogans spread, and the lie grows louder.
Propaganda doesn’t only distort the truth. It divides humanity. It turns empathy into anger, and understanding into fear. To fight it, we must learn to question what we’re told. We must see beyond the headlines, beyond the slogans, beyond the images carefully designed to provoke outrage.
The path forward isn’t found in hate, but in clarity. In seeing the difference between the innocent and the manipulative, between compassion and deception. Because if lies can echo, so can truth.
As Plato warned: “Those who are able to see beyond the shadows and lies of their culture will never be understood, let alone believed, by the masses.” That is why seeking truth is never easy, but it is always necessary.
Conclusion: The Real Enemy of Gaza’s People
Hamas is more than a militant group. They are the ruling power in Gaza with a dual role: political/social authority, and armed resistance. But their priorities often harm the people they claim to represent.
If peace or justice is ever to come, Gaza’s people need rules that protect them, accountability, transparency, and a governing power that places civilian needs above military ambition.
When the world watches the suffering in Gaza, it’s easy to blame Israel. But behind every destroyed building and every tragic image, there’s a more profound truth: Hamas has built its power on the suffering of its own people.
It’s not Israel that keeps Gaza poor and oppressed. It’s Hamas. Until they are gone, peace and freedom will remain out of reach for both Palestinians and Israelis.
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and may not reflect those of Shinybull.com. The author has made every effort to ensure the accuracy of the information provided; however, neither Shinybull.com nor the author can guarantee the accuracy of this information. This article is strictly for informational purposes only. It is not a solicitation to make any exchange in precious metal products, commodities, securities, or other financial instruments. Shinybull.com and the author of this article do not accept culpability for losses and/ or damages arising from the use of this publication.
It is a very historic day for the Middle East today. A «Long and painful nightmare» is over, Trump says. Trump arrived in Tel Aviv to mark the release of Israeli hostages by the terrorist organization called Hamas.
Trump is very proud of this moment. Maybe the best moment of his life. Trump has done something that nobody before him has achieved. Trump has made peace in the Middle East. He released 20 living hostages. A day that none of their families thought would come.
Trump delivered a speech in which he said America joined its ally in two «everlasting vows»: Never forget, and never again.» He also said that the war is over. A war that was ugly, but Hamas is not alone.
Iran is the leading foreign backer of Hamas, whose attack on Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, saw 1.200 people killed and hundreds taken hostage. Weapons taken out of Libya during the chaotic post-2011 period ended up in many places.
UN and expert reporting show Libyan arsenals were looted and trafficked to many different places. According to author Hanne Nabintu Herland, Norway dropped 588 bombs in Libya, where millions of civilians were killed. Thousands of bombs were given to the terrorist organization Hamas after the war in Libya.
Israel has the right to defend itself, and Israel`s response and the ensuing war have left more than 67.000 Palestinians dead, including thousands of civilians, according to Gaza`s Health Ministry.
Gaza itself has been largely destroyed, with most buildings in ruins. It looks like Hiroshima during World War II. About 80% of Gaza has been destroyed. Is this the right thing to do? People and legacy media have criticized Israel for what they have done in Gaza. Was what Israel has done in Gaza Okay?
Let`s start with Israel. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is one of the most complex and emotionally charged disputes in modern history. Few elements symbolize this tension more than the wall — or security barrier — that separates Israel from the Palestinian territories.
To understand why this wall exists and why Hamas remains at the heart of the story, we have to look back at what happened before its construction and how events unfolded afterward.
Israel built the wall because the terrorist organization Hamas attacked civilians in Israel. For many Palestinians, Hamas presented itself as a movement of resistance and social welfare — running schools, hospitals, and charity networks, especially in Gaza, where poverty and unemployment were widespread. But for Israel and much of the international community,
Hamas’s violent actions and refusal to recognize Israel’s right to exist made it a terrorist organization, a designation now shared by the United States, the European Union, Canada, and several others. So, the Israeli war was against the terrorists in Gaza. Not civilians in Gaza.
Before the Wall: Years of Violence
The 1990s and early 2000s were some of the bloodiest years in Israeli history, marked by a wave of suicide bombings, shootings, and other attacks carried out by Hamas and other militant groups. The Second Intifada (2000–2005) became a turning point.
Hamas’s attacks were frequent and devastating:
Bus bombings in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv targeted civilians commuting to work or school.
Restaurants, shopping malls, and markets were attacked, turning ordinary places into sites of tragedy.
The Sbarro restaurant bombing (2001) killed 15 people and injured more than 100.
The Dolphinarium discotheque bombing (2001) took the lives of 21 teenagers.
At the Hebrew University bombing (2002), nine were killed, including American students.
By the early 2000s, hundreds of Israeli civilians had been killed in suicide bombings. For Israelis, daily life became a constant state of alert. Ordinary activities — riding a bus, eating in a café, or sending a child to school — carried real danger.
Hamas justified these attacks as “resistance,” while Israel viewed them as terrorism designed to destroy peace efforts.
The Decision to Build the Wall
In 2002, amid the peak of the Second Intifada, Israel began constructing the security barrier — a combination of concrete walls, fences, and checkpoints — along the West Bank. The stated goal was simple: to stop suicide bombers and other infiltrations from Palestinian territories into Israeli cities.
The wall was — and still is — controversial. For Israel, it was a defensive necessity that saved lives. After its construction, suicide bombings dropped by more than 90%. For Palestinians, however, it represented occupation and separation, cutting them off from farmland, workplaces, and family on the other side. The wall physically entrenched a psychological divide that had already existed for decades.
The Gaza Factor and Hamas’s Rise to Power
While the wall focused on the West Bank, Gaza was undergoing its own transformation. After years of pressure and violence, Israel withdrew from Gaza in 2005, removing settlements and military presence. The expectation was that Palestinians would take this opportunity to build a functioning, peaceful society.
Instead, political infighting erupted between Hamas and Fatah — the dominant Palestinian political faction led by Mahmoud Abbas. In 2007, Hamas violently seized control of Gaza, expelling Fatah forces and establishing a de facto Islamist government.
From that moment, Gaza’s relationship with Israel changed completely. Hamas began developing rocket capabilities, importing weapons, and digging tunnels under the border to carry out attacks or smuggle goods. The nature of the threat shifted from suicide bombings to indiscriminate rocket fire targeting southern Israel.
Towns like Sderot, Ashkelon, and Be’er Sheva faced years of rocket attacks. Israel responded with airstrikes and, on several occasions, full-scale military operations — each causing widespread destruction in Gaza and significant civilian casualties.
The Human Cost
Both sides have suffered immensely. For Israelis, the threat from Gaza remains constant — alarms, shelters, and the fear of sudden attacks are part of daily life. For Palestinians in Gaza, life is defined by poverty, unemployment, and blockades that restrict movement and trade. Thousands of civilians have been killed or displaced in repeated conflicts.
Hamas continues to reject Israel’s right to exist and invests heavily in military infrastructure — rockets, tunnels, and paramilitary forces — while ordinary Gazans struggle to access clean water, electricity, and healthcare.
Israel, for its part, argues that the blockade is a necessary security measure to prevent Hamas from rearming. Critics, including human rights groups, counter that it amounts to collective punishment and fuels further resentment.
A Cycle Without End
The wall did succeed in its primary purpose — it stopped most terrorist infiltrations into Israel. Yet, it also reinforced the sense of division, mistrust, and hopelessness between the two peoples. Hamas’s control over Gaza has created a political stalemate: Israel refuses to negotiate with a group committed to its destruction, while Hamas uses Israel’s restrictions to rally anger and support among Palestinians.
Every few years, the cycle repeats: rocket attacks, Israeli airstrikes, and devastating humanitarian crises. Each side claims victory; neither side wins peace.
Conclusion: Fear and Freedom
The story of Hamas, Israel, and the wall is not simply about terrorism or defense — it is about fear and survival, two emotions that dominate the landscape of the Middle East. Israel built a wall because it felt it had no other choice. Hamas attacks because it believes violence is the only path to freedom. Between them are millions of people — Israelis and Palestinians — who simply want to live ordinary lives.
In the end, walls may stop bombers, but they cannot build trust. The challenge for both sides remains the same as it was before the first stone was laid: to find a way to balance security and justice, defense and dignity, fear and hope — the hardest balance of all.
So, why do nearly everybody criticize Israel for what they are doing in Gaza?
When Defense Becomes a Crime: A Double Standard in How the World Sees War
Today, it seems nearly every news outlet is focused on criticizing Israel for civilian casualties in Gaza. Headlines scream about women and children killed, often implying moral failure or injustice. And yet, when we look back at modern history, we see a striking pattern: war almost always claims innocent lives, no matter who is involved.
Take the 1999 NATO bombing of Yugoslavia. During 78 days of airstrikes, hundreds of civilians were killed, including children. The death of three-year-old Milica Rakić in her home in Batajnica became emblematic of the human cost of war. Serbia now has memorials, statues, and ceremonies honoring the children who died. Dozens of names are remembered publicly as a symbol of lives lost during the campaign. Cluster munitions, unexploded ordnance, and indiscriminate bombing caused these deaths — the same tragic consequences we lament in other conflicts today.
NATO was acting in what it claimed to be defense and stabilization, yet civilian casualties were inevitable. And yet, when similar actions are taken by other nations in their own defense, the global narrative often shifts. Israel, for example, builds walls and conducts targeted operations against groups like Hamas, whose own record includes attacks on civilians and using human shields. Israel emphasizes its right to protect its citizens from terrorism, just as NATO justified its actions in Serbia and elsewhere. But public opinion and media framing frequently focus only on one side of the equation.
The pattern is not new. History is full of wars where civilians suffered while the aggressors were vilified and the defenders celebrated — or vice versa, depending on perspective. What often changes is the narrative: who tells the story, which victims are remembered, and which are ignored. In Serbia, memorials commemorate the children killed by NATO; in Israel, civilians caught in crossfire are highlighted in international media. Both are real tragedies. Both are consequences of war.
At the heart of this is human nature. When a society or individual is threatened, defense is instinctive. If harm persists, measures escalate. Walls are built. Armies act. Lives are lost. History shows repeatedly that the morality of defense is complicated by the inevitability of collateral damage. Civilian deaths are always tragic, yet they are not always evidence of moral failure — often, they are evidence of the harsh realities of conflict.
The lesson is clear: to truly understand war and peace, we must look honestly at all sides. Criticism must be proportional, and we must remember that war does not spare innocence. Nations act to survive; civilians sometimes pay the price. Recognizing this complexity is not the same as justification — it is acknowledgment of reality.
If the global community wishes to promote peace, it must do so consistently. Selective outrage, when only certain wars or victims are highlighted, distorts understanding and prevents meaningful solutions. Every civilian life lost, whether in Serbia, Gaza, Iraq, or elsewhere, deserves remembrance. Every act of defense, every effort to protect citizens, deserves careful analysis.
War is tragic, complex, and unavoidable in human history. Only by recognizing its patterns, learning from them, and holding ourselves to consistent moral standards can we hope to reduce suffering and approach a more peaceful world.
“Every war begins with the illusion of victory. Every peace begins with the courage of dialogue. Which will we choose?”
History has already shown us the price of arrogance. Twice in the last century, the world descended into total war because nations believed they had no choice but to fight and that they had to win. Today, as leaders repeat the same words, we stand once again at the edge of disaster.
The world has already witnessed two devastating global conflicts — the First and Second World Wars. Now, many fear that we stand on the brink of a Third. The war in Ukraine rages on, while violence flares in Israel and Gaza. What is striking is that leaders on all sides declare that they must win. Even NATO’s former Secretary General Jens Stoltenberg has insisted that “weapons are the way to peace.”
But have we truly learned nothing from history?
After the First World War, nations attempted to chart a new course. The Treaty of Versailles of 1919 and the creation of the League of Nations were intended to establish an international order in which diplomacy, rather than war, would resolve conflicts. The idea was collective security: dialogue, negotiation, and the prevention of another catastrophic war.
And yet, within two decades, the world was plunged into an even deadlier conflict. The League of Nations failed because nationalism, greed, and great-power rivalry proved stronger than the will to compromise. Diplomacy was drowned out by ambition, unresolved grievances, and economic instability.
It feels eerily similar today. We see frozen conflicts, festering grievances, and leaders proclaiming that victory — and only victory — is the only acceptable outcome. But as history shows, not everyone can win.
Think of a football match: two teams, both determined to be victorious. Only one side can claim the win after 90 minutes. But wars do not have a clock. Wars end only when destruction, exhaustion, or overwhelming force brings them to a halt. In the past, that sometimes meant entire armies fighting to the last man. In the 20th century, it meant the atomic bomb. It was not diplomacy that ended the Second World War — it was unprecedented violence.
This raises an unsettling truth: humans often respond more to fear than to reason. Diplomacy, without urgency, is easily dismissed. But when fear peaks — when cities are destroyed, when civilians suffer, when nuclear annihilation looms — only then do leaders suddenly discover the language of negotiation.
If history repeats itself, then humanity may once again stumble toward self-destruction. The tragic irony is that while weapons may bring silence to the battlefield, they rarely bring true peace. Peace, lasting peace, requires the courage to pursue diplomacy before fear takes control.
Because if “weapons are the way to peace,” we may find that peace comes only after there is nothing left to save.
Fear, it seems, is the actual driver of humanity. Diplomacy is too often dismissed until it is too late. And when diplomacy fails, fear and destruction rule.
History is clear: bombs may end wars, but they do not prevent them from happening. Dialogue does.
Diplomacy is not a sign of weakness – it is a sign of wisdom. If history teaches us anything, it is this: bombs can end wars, but only dialogue can prevent them. The choice is ours, and the clock is ticking.
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