Death can be perceived and framed differently but it hurts us all the same way. Away from politics and narrative, and the defense mechanisms mothers adopt to cope with the loss of a child, all of the civilian deaths in Lebanon since the start of this war on October 8 have one thing in common; they were unjust and untimely.
The most difficult task we face as editors and commentators is talking about that pain constructively. It involves critical and rational thinking while everyone else’s emotions are running high. It risks being unintentionally insensitive to the stories and narratives we don’t see eye to eye with. And it often leads to unpopular opinions that polarize and provoke the very people we are trying to connect with.
Why do we do it? Not because we are desensitized from other people’s pain but because this is how we process ours. We weigh it on a scale to determine whether or not it was necessary. We deal with pain by not accepting it as fate or destiny but by speaking up against the ingenuine warlords who tokenize our suffering for their gain.
Feeling as like you are in the minority when it comes to seeing and understanding the full picture is less of a blessing and more of a curse. You can be rejected for your assessment of the situation when it is not in harmony with everyone else’s.
You may feel pressured to let go of your intuition, and tempted, at times, to take the easier route by just falling in line. For us, everyday is a battle to remain true to our principles and find new ways to talk with you, even from a difficult position. We do this because otherwise, silence means no resistance to our collective manipulation.
We can’t stop.