Holocaust in Gaza

M. A. Hossain, 

There are terms in moral discourse that demand careful, even reverent use. "Holocaust" is one of them. It is not merely a description of mass death; it is a singular moral indictment: a systematic, bureaucratically organized, and ideologically driven attempt to annihilate an entire people. The word evokes not just tragedy, but deliberate, industrial-scale evil. Invoking it lightly dishonors history. Ignoring its modern echoes dishonors the present. Which brings us, inevitably and uncomfortably, to Gaza.

Since October 2023, over 60,000 Palestinians have been killed in Israel's military campaign, including tens of thousands of civilians. More than 121,000 have been wounded. Hospitals have become charnel houses. Schools, shelters, bakeries, and entire residential blocks have been bombed. Food is so scarce that the United Nations has warned of mass starvation. According to credible sources, hundreds have already died from hunger. Among them, dozens of children.

This is not a byproduct of poor military intelligence. It is a consequence of deliberate policy decisions. Israeli leaders have publicly justified the withholding of humanitarian aid as a lever to extract political concessions. Defense officials describe the siege in strategic terms—less as a security necessity and more as a method of coercive pressure. When one side in a conflict systematically denies food, medicine, and water to the other, we are no longer in the realm of conventional warfare. We are in the territory of collective punishment.

And yet, even now, many recoil from the comparison: How can anyone liken Gaza to the Holocaust?

A fair question. The Nazi Holocaust was unique in its scope and mechanization. No crematoria, no gas chambers exist in Gaza. But moral equivalency is not the point. The Holocaust was not defined solely by its methods; it was defined by a logic of elimination, a rationale that a certain population had to be made to disappear—not only from a place, but from history. That logic did not begin with Auschwitz. It began with ghettos, with starvation policies, with a normalization of cruelty, and with the moral numbness of bystanders.

That logic is being seen again. It does not come wearing swastikas. It comes wrapped in the language of national security and counterterrorism. It is expressed through the destruction of medical infrastructure, the displacement of 80% of the population, and the starvation of infants. It speaks not in slogans of racial supremacy, but in quiet admissions that the lives of two million people are collateral in a broader military agenda.

Is this genocide? That is a legal term, and courts will have their say. But genocide begins long before verdicts are issued. It begins when political leaders speak of an entire population as a threat. It gains traction when war becomes indistinguishable from punishment. It finds its justification when entire families are obliterated, and the world rationalizes it as an unfortunate necessity.

To those who would invoke October 7 as a justification: Yes, that attack was barbaric. The murder of 1,200 Israelis, the kidnapping of civilians, the trauma inflicted—these were acts of terror, and Israel has both the right and the duty to defend itself.

But self-defense has limits—legal, moral, and practical. The moral limit is crossed when self-defense morphs into vengeance. The legal limit is crossed when civilians become targets. And the practical limit is crossed when military operations create conditions of humanitarian collapse.

Israel is not alone in this failure. The United States, while offering humanitarian aid with one hand, has continued to supply weapons with the other. It has vetoed multiple UN ceasefire resolutions, blocked international investigations, and remained diplomatically aligned even in the face of credible war crimes. This is not a balanced policy; it is strategic indulgence masquerading as an alliance.

Europe fares a little better. While several EU members have issued statements of concern and suspended some bilateral talks, none have moved to enforce arms embargoes or sanctioned senior Israeli officials. These are the same governments that demand the world remember the Holocaust every January 27, yet seem unwilling to heed its clearest warning: that silence in the face of suffering is complicity.

Even the Arab world, so often the self-proclaimed voice of the Palestinian cause, has failed to act with resolve. Egypt has restricted aid access. Gulf states have offered money but little pressure. What does it say about regional solidarity when Western college students show more moral courage than Middle Eastern monarchs?

None of this is meant to deny Jewish trauma or to rewrite history. On the contrary, to invoke the Holocaust in reference to Gaza is to insist that "Never Again" must apply to all people—not just Jews, not just Europeans, not just those we find politically convenient to defend.

If the deliberate creation of conditions that lead to mass civilian death—via starvation, dehydration, and aerial bombardment—is not worthy of moral outrage, then we must ask what we mean by "atrocity" at all. If genocide only counts when it resembles 1944 Poland, then we have learned nothing from it. Genocides evolve. They adapt to the tools of their time. Today, extermination need not involve gas chambers. It can proceed through blockade, bombing, and bureaucratic paralysis.

Some will object that the term “Holocaust” is sacrosanct and should not be diluted. Fair enough. But if our reverence for a word prevents us from recognizing its reappearance in new forms, then that reverence becomes blindness. Words are tools. Their power lies not in their preservation, but in their relevance.

The International Court of Justice has ordered Israel to permit humanitarian aid. Human rights organizations are documenting abuses. Civil society is mobilizing globally. These are hopeful signs—but they are not enough. What is needed now is policy: arms embargoes, diplomatic pressure, legal accountability, and above all, the political will to act before Gaza becomes a postscript to history's darkest chapter.

This is not about choosing sides. It is about choosing standards. Either we believe in universal human rights, or we believe in none. Either “Never Again” is a principle, or it is a platitude.

The Holocaust was not inevitable. It happened because the world convinced itself that the suffering of one person was the price of someone else’s peace. That lie is being repeated. This is Gaza’s hour of fire. It may also be our last chance to prove that history taught us anything at all.

M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com

   This article published at :

1. The Nation, Pak : 24 May, 25

2. Daily Lead Pakistan, Pak : 25 May, 25

3. Asian Age, BD : 27 May, 25