There I was, sitting in a room with over 3,500 people, just four rows away from the stage, as Francesca Albanese walked up to deliver her annual lecture.
The atmosphere was charged with expectation.
When she began to speak, it wasn’t just her voice that filled the room, but a truth that would stay with me long after.
Later, during the press conference, I asked her what she thought about the narratives that circulate within the United Nations when it comes to Gaza, and how she responds to being called an anti-Semite.
Her response struck a chord.
It revealed something deeper about how the world has come to use language, especially when describing horrific realities.
What is often called a “conflict” in Gaza is, in fact, a genocide, as declared by the United Nations earlier this year.
Yet people still reach for softer words like “war,” “conflict,” and “ceasefire.” These terms suggest that both sides hold equal power to stop fighting.
But they don’t. This is not a war. It is a genocide.
One of the most painful parts of this truth is that it is being carried out by a state whose history is rooted in being victims of genocide themselves.
Because of this, criticism of the State of Israel is often mistaken for anti-Semitism.
But it is possible to separate faith from governance. It is possible to criticize a state without condemning a people.
The debate over Gaza and Israel has lasted for decades, stretching long before October 3rd, 2023.
Questions of land, sovereignty, and illegal settlements have always been at the center. Yet after that date, the conversation became global, pressing, and uncomfortable.
It forced many to ask what the real power of the United Nations is, and whether narratives truly matter in the face of violence.
South Africa took a historic step by bringing Israel before the International Court of Justice, accusing it of committing genocide against Palestinians and labeling its governance as an apartheid system.
The United Nations later affirmed that what was happening in Palestine amounted to genocide and called for the immediate withdrawal of illegal settlements and a ceasefire. Yet nothing changed.
Some argue that the United Nations is powerless because it has no army. Others believe it is too compromised to act effectively.
But as Francesca Albanese and others have pointed out, the real issue lies in the silence and inaction of member states.
South Africa, for example, continues to trade with Israel, even while leading the legal charge against it.
Coal exports and other trade continue, raising questions about moral consistency and international accountability.
And then there’s the fact that language shapes reality.
When global leaders or the media describe Gaza as a “conflict” or a “war,” they imply equality between two sides.
This framing allows governments to remain neutral, to distance themselves from moral responsibility by pretending that both sides are equally at fault.
But when the word “genocide” is used, everything changes. It demands urgency. It forces the world to respond. During the Holocaust, when genocide was recognized, nations were compelled to act. Today, the reluctance to use that word allows avoidance and delay.
We must now ask an unsettling question: has the state that was once a victim become the oppressor? According to the United Nations, the answer is yes.
Recognising that does not mean condemning Judaism or Jewish people.
It means holding a government accountable for policies and actions that have destroyed thousands of lives.
So, I leave you with this question. When someone calls what is happening in Gaza a “conflict” or a “genocide,” which word feels closer to the truth?
Which word moves you more? And how would you react if someone told you that what is unfolding is not a war, but a genocide?
