Again, the dead are added to the dead. Twenty-six Palestinians fell into martyrs this Saturday, according to the Civil Defense, mowed near humanitarian aid centers in a band of Gaza reduced to the state of open-air cemetery. Among them, civilians, hungry, survivors of a siege who no longer says his name but acts as a slow and deliberate sentence.
Gaza dies, day after day, under the eyes of a world used to horror. Twenty -one months of war, bombing, shortages, blockade, and now, the very ban on hoping for a puff of help, a bag of flour, a bottle of water.
The attacks on this weekend are not burrs. They are a reflection of a policy of asphyxiation, carried out in defiance of international law, humanitarian conventions, and all decency. Pulling on aid distribution centers-even if they are supported by accomplices states-is to punish the hungry for having wanted to survive.
And the UN counts. 875 dead, including 674 near these help points. Figures like tombstones. And silence, always.
NGO alerts, like Médecins Sans Frontières, sound in a vacuum: acute malnutrition, imminent famine, total despair. But nothing stops the machine. Neither the indignation of the peoples, nor the buried resolutions, nor the words of shame which can no longer even unravel the screens.
In this war, inhumanity has become a strategy. Hunger is a weapon. Chaos is a method. Death is a tool.
It is no longer a question of politics. It is a daily crime against a people without refuge, without help, without horizon. It is an examination of consciousness for whole humanity.
