By Che Ran
The bodies pile up in Gaza, broken and charred, buried beneath the rubble of a war that isn’t about justice, security, or even revenge.
Over 400 dead in a single night. More than a hundred of them children—small, fragile bodies torn apart by the precision of Israeli airstrikes, the kind that can find a single man in a car but somehow “miss” entire apartment blocks filled with families.
The propaganda machine grinds on, repeating the same tired script: this is about hostages. This is about Hamas. This is about security. But it isn’t. It never was.
This is about one man’s survival—Benjamin Netanyahu, a politician so drenched in blood he makes Macbeth look like an amateur.
History is full of men like him. Men who cling to power not with policy, not with leadership, but with bodies.
Stalin had his purges. Hitler had his blitzkrieg. Pol Pot had his killing fields. Netanyahu? He has Gaza.
His bombs fall on the starving, the thirsty, the weak—because he needs them to. Because his political lifeline is measured in corpses.
For the people of Gaza, there is no escape. The siege is complete. No food. No water. Just the slow, agonizing death of a people trapped between starvation and explosions.
They fast for Ramadan under the watchful eye of drones, their prayers drowned out by the roar of jets. This isn’t war; war implies two sides. This is punishment. This is extermination.
And yet, the Israeli public is divided. Some cheer on the carnage, convinced that massacring civilians will somehow bring back the hostages, that incinerating hospitals and refugee camps is a righteous cause.
But the families of those hostages—the ones who should matter most—know the truth. They beg for a ceasefire.
They know that every bomb dropped makes it less likely their loved ones will ever come home. And still, Netanyahu refuses. He could have ended this. Hamas offered a deal. A deal for the hostages. He said no.
Because the hostages aren’t the prize. The war is.
If this war ends, so does he. His coalition collapses. The corruption trials resume. His legacy—already a cesspool of scandals and lies—crumbles into dust.
And so, the bombs keep falling. The children keep dying. The political machine grinds forward, fuelled by blood, because it must. Because Netanyahu must.
The world watches, as it always does. Statements of “deep concern” are issued. Leaders frown in carefully rehearsed displays of dismay.
But they will do nothing. They will say nothing. They will let it happen, just as they always have, just as they always will. And Netanyahu?
He will march on, trampling over the bodies of the innocent, turning Gaza into his own personal Golgotha, a crucifixion for political gain.
Because this is how power is kept.
Because this is how history is written.
Because this is how monsters survive.
Che Ran is a writer and entrepreneur with a keen focus on politics and international affairs. An avid traveller, Che Ran’s experiences enrich his photography and writings.
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