Gaza, Moral Injury, and the Path to Peace

Photo by Mohammed Ibrahim on Unsplash

As I type these words, a ceasefire is being negotiated in the Middle East which may, at long last, stop the current round of Israeli hostilities in Gaza and result in the release of some hostages held by Hamas. My heart longs for this to be true while also acknowledging that the path to lasting peace is still a long way ahead. As we take this moment to reflect on this potential pause in hostilities, I wanted to share some thoughts I’ve been having about the ongoing conflict in the region.

It’s taken world leaders 15 months to broker this ceasefire deal, a time during which the hearts, lives, hopes, and dreams of millions have been shattered. I sincerely hope that the ceasefire does come to pass and that it brings some much-needed respite and aid to Palestinians living under occupation in Gaza and a balm for Israeli families who are reunited with loved ones. Beyond that, what lies ahead for a political settlement is unclear. The reality is that the people of Gaza have been betrayed by the world for over 18 years now, trapped in the largest open-air prison on earth, with a population that is 50 per cent children, facing horrific tactics by one of the most sophisticated militaries in the world, funded and armed by the West. What happens next will demand just as much energy, focus, and support as we have seen in the solidarity work to end the war.

While many found the onslaught on Gaza galvanizing for their activism—becoming more vocal on the topic for perhaps the first time, attending demonstrations, writing to political representatives, and so on—for me, the last 15 months have felt strangely and uncomfortably paralyzing. I’ve done all the above, of course, especially in the first six months of the war, but as the horrors unfolded in a way that my psyche couldn’t process, I found myself retreating. This sense of paralysis isn’t unique to me; many people globally have felt helpless in the face of governments that appear indifferent to human suffering – be that on this issue or the climate crisis. Studies have shown that prolonged exposure to atrocities can induce a sense of trauma and helplessness in people far removed from the conflict itself and I began to feel suffocated living in a system that couldn’t stop the deliberate starvation, killing, and maiming of innocent children.

Being pregnant and later looking after my much-yearned-for newborn only magnified this. Playing with my baby, I couldn’t understand how any world leader who had children could look at the images we were seeing and not want to do everything in their power to stop it. Instead, we saw leaders, insulated from the direct human suffering, depersonalize the tragedies to allow them to rationalize policies that maintained the status quo. For me, the news frequently overwhelming. At times after getting upset scrolling social media I would have to switch my phone off and put it in another room, wiping away tears so my baby wouldn’t have to see me crying over the deaths of so many other babies. I would then spend the rest of the day trying to block out flashbacks of scenes I had seen on my screen: the pain on an orphaned child’s face, the sound of a father’s wailing as he walked through a hospital, a mother holding a small white shrouded body against the backdrop of the ruins of a family home.

I thought for a while it was just me being sensitive to the reality of war, exacerbated by the fact I’d spent lots of time in the region and had many Palestinian friends. But I recently learned a term that has helped me contextualise my reactions better, and I think it explains what so many of us have felt witnessing the war on Gaza. It’s called moral injury.

According to the International Centre for Moral Injury:

“Moral Injury refers to the experience of sustained and enduring negative moral emotions—guilt, shame, contempt, and anger—that results from the betrayal, violation, or suppression of deeply held or shared moral values… Moral Injury involves a profound sense of broken trust in ourselves, our leaders, governments, and institutions to act in just and morally ‘good’ ways.”

Moral injury is a term that was first used to describe the experiences of veterans but has since also been used to describe what can happen to health care workers during moments of crisis, such as the Covid pandemic, where they had to deal with institutionally constrained choices that went against their ethics. It’s now increasingly being recognized in broader society as we experience global events through the media. The collective weight of witnessing injustice without the ability to intervene can lead not only to widespread frustration and also a sense of guilt, shame and complicity – an injury to our morals as humans essentially.

With Gaza, time and again, we’ve seen world leaders use strange double-speak to mask crimes against humanity—crimes that we humans should never have to witness or experience. Crimes that have been funded by our taxpayer money. Seeing people starved, water supplies cut off, schools and hospitals being bombed has led to a huge amount of trauma for those experiencing it but also led to moral injury for those witnessing it and being unable to stop it. I have several friends who have commented to me that the last 15 months have changed them forever.

So why is it important to acknowledge moral injury? Because it’s real, it’s painful, it can cause grief and it can leave us feeling paralyzed on a collective level. It also stops us fighting back. From my twenty years of human rights work, I know that the groundwork for human rights abuse to take place is twofold: first, the demonization and dehumanization of whomever you are targeting, and second, the feeling of powerlessness. Moral injury can cause us to become disassociated from society and hopeless (be that because of Palestine, Climate Change, Trump, you name it). But connection is actually the way out of it and empathy with others on a human level, regardless of their background or their beliefs, is the first step to find a true path to peace.

So tonight I’ll be cooking a Palestinian meal to honor the steadfastness that Palestinians have taught me and to connect to the beauty of their culture and majesty of their strength – qualities that give me hope time and time again. Maybe you’ll join me (one of my fave recipes is below) as we wait to see if the ceasefire is implemented and hostages released.

Now, let’s work together to end the Occupation once and for all.

Yasmin x

Mussakhan - Palestinian Roast Chicken with Sumac and Red Onions

Mussakhan is a classic Palestinian dish eaten throughout the region. Traditionally the meat is laid out on a giant piece of bread with the flavorsome roasting juices poured over it, so that they seep into the dough. This platter is then placed on the table for everyone to pull off sections of bread and chicken: a wonderful sharing meal. As it can be challenging to find such large pieces of flatbread in most shops, I’ve suggested using individual naan breads instead… but of course, if you can, seek out traditional sheets of Arabic taboon bread from Middle Eastern stores. Recipe from Zaitoun: Recipes and Stories from the Palestinian Kitchen

1kg/2lbs chicken thighs and drumsticks, skin on

3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, plus more to serve

1/2 tsp ground cumin

1/2 tsp ground allspice

1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

1 1/2 tbsp sumac, plus more to dust

Juice of 1 lemon

4 garlic cloves, crushed

2 large red onions (about 500g/1lb), finely sliced into half-moons

2 tbsps pine nuts

1 tbsp olive oil or any neutral oil

Naan or Arabic taboon bread, to serve

Chopped parsley leaves

Salt and black pepper

Method

1. Slash the flesh of each piece of chicken diagonally a few times, around 3/4 inch apart, and then place the meat in a large bowl or plastic container.

2. Pour over the extra virgin olive oil, spices, garlic, lemon juice, garlic, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper and rub this into the meat. Add the red onions and toss everything together well. Cover and leave to marinate in the fridge for 1 to 3 hours.

3. When you are ready to cook the chicken, preheat the oven to 375°F.

4. Transfer the meat to a baking pan and roast for about 35 minutes, or until the chicken juices run clear when pierced at their thickest part. Once the chicken is cooked, cover in foil and leave to rest while you prepare the toppings.

5. Fry the pine nuts in the cooking oil for a minute or so, until they turn golden brown, then tip onto a paper towel to drain.

6. To serve, toast the naan or taboon bread and then place the chicken and red onion on top. Finish with a smattering of pine nuts, sumac and chopped parsley. Drizzle over any remaining roasting juices so they soak into the bread, then sprinkle over a little more extra virgin olive oil.