2025: THE YEAR OF GENOCIDE

 

Western politicians expressed outrage at the Bondi Beach massacre, but that same outrage has been conspicuously missing when it comes to Israel. Despite having repeatedly violated the so-called 'ceasefire' with the deaths of over 400 people, Western governments, like that of New Zealand, have remained silent. As we enter 2026, Gaza's plight remains unchanged.  

WESTERN POLITICIANS have never struggled to find their voices when the story suits them. Their outrage is instant, their moral clarity absolute, their language sharp and unambiguous. The Bondi Beach massacre was met with precisely this kind of righteous fury: statements issued within hours, flags lowered, podiums assembled, and solemn declarations made about the sanctity of human life. No one hesitated. No one paused to weigh the diplomatic consequences of speaking out.

But when Israel repeatedly violates the so-called ceasefire—when airstrikes resume, when civilians are killed, when entire neighborhoods are levelled again—those same leaders suddenly lose their voices. Their moral vocabulary evaporates. The silence is not accidental. It is a political choice, and it is deafening. At the fag end of 2025, the moral landscape of the Western world lies in ruins.

The latest escalation—Israel’s decision to ban all humanitarian groups from entering Gaza—should have triggered an international outcry. Cutting off aid to a population already enduring famine conditions is not a policy dispute. It is not a diplomatic disagreement. It is a direct assault on the most basic principles of humanitarian law. Furthermore, it is the deliberate intensification of suffering for a people who have already endured the unendurable. Yet Western governments, so quick to condemn when it is easy, have offered nothing. No anger. No pressure. Not even a symbolic rebuke.

This silence is not neutrality. It is complicity.

New Zealand’s government has followed the same script. The same government that has repeatedly declined to recognise Palestinian statehood—a symbolic gesture that dozens of countries have made without consequence—now cannot muster even a sentence of concern as humanitarian organisations are barred from Gaza. It is a silence that reveals priorities more clearly than any policy document ever could. Wellington has chosen alignment with the geopolitical strategies of its traditional partners, particularly the United States, over the moral clarity demanded by the moment. 

Some will argue that New Zealand is too small to influence events, that its voice carries little weight on the global stage. But this is precisely the point: if a country with so little to lose cannot speak, who will? If a government that prides itself on its commitment to human rights cannot condemn the blocking of humanitarian aid, what does that commitment actually mean? Silence from the powerful is predictable. Silence from those who claim moral leadership is unforgivable.

The pattern is now unmistakable. Western governments express outrage only when it is politically safe, when it reinforces existing alliances, when it costs nothing. They condemn violence only when the perpetrator is someone they already oppose. They defend international law only when it can be used as a weapon against their adversaries. When a political ally violates those same laws, they will only go as far as expressing their 'deep concern'.

But the people of Gaza do not need more expressions of 'deep concern'. They do not need more calls for 'both sides to de-escalate.' They need food, water, medicine, and safety. They require the world to acknowledge their humanity without qualification. They need governments to stop pretending that silence is neutrality. Every day that humanitarian groups are barred from entering Gaza is another day that Western governments choose to look away. Every day that the ceasefire is violated without consequence is another day that international law is revealed as a tool of convenience rather than a universal principle.

As we enter 2026, Gaza’s plight remains unchanged. The rubble has shifted, the headlines have faded, but the suffering continues. Children still starve. Families still bury their dead. Entire communities still live under siege, cut off from the world by a blockade that Western governments refuse to challenge. The moral failure is not only Israel’s. It belongs to every government that has selected silence over justice, caution over compassion, and political alignment over human dignity.

History will not remember the carefully worded statements or the diplomatic hedging. It will remember who spoke and who stayed silent. It will remember who defended the vulnerable and who looked away. And it will remember that when Gaza needed the world to act, Western governments chose not to. And there will be a price to pay.