It Doesn’t Start With Boycott, It Starts With Perspective: The Middle East and a True Reckoning

An Endless Question: Can Israel Be Stopped?

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on a question I haven’t yet found a satisfying answer to:
Can Israel and the system behind it truly be stopped?

Some believe it’s possible solely through boycott.
Others say even small gestures, like “choosing a side like an ant,” are enough.

But when I observe the lifestyles and mindsets of these people, I often find dangerously self-centered and ego-driven personalities.
To understand the roots of the situation, one must go deeper—into the history of the Middle East, into the way people eat, live, raise families, and even further back into evolutionary history.

This land is where Neanderthals and Homo sapiens first met and interbred.
Maybe we still carry the remnants of that primal violence, that inability to coexist.
Perhaps we’re haunted by the rage of ancestors who weren’t quite human, who knew how to fight but not how to live peacefully.

We all know the outcomes of America’s support for Israel.
But this isn’t just about that support.
This issue is far too complex to solve with a simple boycott.
Unless words are followed by real action, they’re nothing more than cruel jokes.


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“Worry About Your Own Country First”

People get defensive when you bring this up: “But Palestine…”, “But Israel…”

But what about you?

In your own country, people are starving.
Youth are hopeless.
Women are being murdered.
Domestic violence is normalized.
The education system is collapsing, the justice system is hollow, and the media is manipulative.

And yet, while all this unfolds, people look the other way—choosing to care about another region’s suffering instead of their own.
Not out of compassion, but out of comfort.

This isn’t just ignorance—it’s escapism, dressed up in a moral costume.

Crying for someone else’s tragedy while ignoring the collapse at your feet isn’t virtue; it’s cowardice.
People who fear their own darkness often find shelter in someone else’s shadow.


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Performative Activism and the Social Media Conscience

Today, social media is a stage.
A place where people showcase borrowed outrage, filtered pain, and hashtagged solidarity.

Posting a Palestinian flag, sharing a story, tagging brands with “boycott” messages—
These are the modern face of digital makeup.
But makeup doesn’t change the skin; it just hides the blemishes.

Real anger doesn’t come and go with the algorithm.
Real calls for justice don’t fall silent when trends shift.
But we live in an era where even conscience is trending.

People don’t cry because they’re hurt—they post to get engagement.
They share suffering not to heal, but to be seen.

And often, behind that performative activism is a life full of contradictions.
The person who tweets about women’s rights while silencing his own mother.
The one who claims to oppose war yet screams at their child in the next room.

Performative activism spreads like a virus.
It asks nothing of you, and demands no real change.
Visibility without accountability is not justice.
It’s vanity.


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Final Word: Think Ten Times Before You Approach the Middle East

I write these things hoping they will remain—
That they might reach someone, somewhere, and matter in a way that real change begins with truth.

The Middle East is not just a region; it is a graveyard of unspoken truths, generational trauma, and centuries of silenced pain.

To speak about this land,
To try and help these people,
To even form an opinion—
Requires more than slogans and filters.
It requires honesty.
It requires humility.

Because without deep understanding, even well-meaning efforts can become just another form of violence.

Think ten times before you approach the Middle East.