Genocide Is Not a Political Slogan

A word created to describe the worst crimes in human history should not be reduced to a slogan.

Photo by Cole Keister on Unsplash

One of the most serious accusations that can be levelled against an individual, organisation, or state is that of genocide. The word evokes some of the darkest chapters in human history. It describes not merely war or civilian casualties, but the deliberate and systematic destruction of a people.

That is precisely why the term should be used carefully.

The allegations made against Cape Union Mart Executive Chairperson Philip Krawitz rest on claims that he supports or funds what activists describe as a genocide in Gaza. Krawitz has denied allegations that he donates money to the Israeli Defence Force (IDF) or the Israeli government. Yet it is worth asking a broader question: so what if he did?

He has a right to his opinions, allegiances, and to send his money where he likes. The IDF is not a criminal organisation. Allegations made against it have not been proven in a court of law and remain just that: allegations.

The accusation of genocide has become so commonplace in discussions about Israel that many people have forgotten what actual genocides look like.

The Rwandan genocide did not require a protracted legal process before the world recognised what had happened. More than one million people were slaughtered in roughly one hundred days. The scale, speed, and intent were unmistakable.

The Armenian genocide likewise became accepted by much of the world despite repeated attempts by the Turkish government to deny or obscure what had occurred. More than a million Armenians were systematically killed or displaced because of who they were.

The genocide in Sudan was so horrendously apparent that the blood of one of its massacres could be seen from space. The first, and hopefully last, time that blood has been viewed by satellite.

The Holocaust remains the clearest example of genocide in modern history. Six million Jews were intentionally targeted and murdered in an industrialised campaign of extermination. The effects were so catastrophic that the global Jewish population has still not fully recovered.

The war in Gaza does not resemble these historical attempts to eradicate a people.

The upper estimates of 75,200 dead (many of which were combatants) in 958 days, as cited in Lancet, represent a tragic human cost. Every innocent death is a tragedy. But tragedy and genocide are not synonymous.

Wars, especially urban wars against entrenched militant organisations, often result in civilian casualties. The question is not whether civilians die. The question is whether a state is intentionally attempting to exterminate a people.

Genocidal states do not open humanitarian corridors. They do not warn civilians before military operations. They do not facilitate the delivery of food and medical aid. Nor do genocidal states cease hostilities when an opposing government accepts peace.

None of this means that Israel’s conduct is beyond criticism. Democracies, like all states, should be scrutinised and held accountable. But criticism is not the same as proving genocide.

The casual use of the term carries consequences. It transforms a specific legal and historical concept into a political slogan. It encourages people to view a complex conflict through a simplistic moral lens. More dangerously, it creates a justification for targeting individuals who are perceived to support the accused side.

If activists truly cared about Palestinian lives, their concern would not begin and end with Israel. They would also be protesting Hamas for using Palestinians as human shields. They would be criticising Egypt for restricting movement across its border with Gaza. They would be examining the historical treatment of Palestinians in countries such as Jordan, Lebanon, and Kuwait.

The reality is that the Palestinian tragedy has many contributors. Yet much of the activism surrounding the conflict focuses on a single state while ignoring the wider regional context.

In truth, much of the Arab world has a torrid track record when it comes to its treatment of Palestinians. In fact, it is Israel that has provided Palestinians with their greatest degree of political autonomy, including the transfer of Gaza to Palestinian administration, while preventing the West Bank from being absorbed by neighbouring states that have historically shown little interest in Palestinian self-determination.

The grand irony of the anti-Israel lobby is that without Israel, Palestinians wouldn’t exist. Prior to 1948, the Palestinians were Jewish settlers in the region. They renamed themselves to Israelis upon independence. The ancestors of today’s Palestinians called themselves Arabs, and had never, ever been a part of an independent polity calling itself Palestine. They were only ever subjects of broader empires and nation-states.

Whether one agrees with modern Palestinian nationalism or not, its development is inseparable from the creation of Israel itself. The existence of Israel did not erase a Palestinian identity. It created it.

This broader historical context is almost entirely absent from contemporary activist narratives. Instead, the conflict is often reduced to a simplistic story of oppressors and oppressed, with little regard for the complex history that produced both modern Israeli and Palestinian national identities.

As one can see from even a brief examination of the history of Israel and Palestine, much of the rhetoric surrounding the conflict is fraught with historical inaccuracies, moral simplifications, and inflammatory accusations. The charge of genocide has become the most powerful of these accusations because it places one side beyond the bounds of legitimate debate.

That is precisely why it must be challenged.

Genocide is not a synonym for war. It is not a rhetorical weapon to be deployed against political opponents. It is a term reserved for humanity’s gravest crimes.

When we use it carelessly, we do more than distort contemporary conflicts. We diminish the memory of genuine genocides and the victims who suffered through them.

A word created to describe the worst crimes in human history should not be reduced to a slogan.

Nicholas Woode-Smith is Managing Editor of the Rational Standard. He writes in his personal capacity.