I have always thought that I have a good internal compass. I know the difference between right and wrong. Good and evil. My friends often come to me for advice, for they know I will always offer them the most moral and honest solution. But sometimes, the lines between the two are blurred. They are smudged and smeared by decades of internal, external, and religious conflicts. So tainted that I can’t find the difference.  To find what is right. Even. True. It’s something I’ve felt recently, especially with the newly sprung war against Israel and the extremist groups in Palestine. I can see both sides of the feud, and it feels like a curse.

Israel is predominantly Jewish and Palestine Muslim. Due to the origins of both religions leading back to Abraham, the two are often immersed in altercations throughout history. The Arab-Israeli War. The Palestine War. They all led to bloodshed. The death of innocents over religious differences. The prejudice can not be traced back to a specific period. There has always been a divide. Yet I’ve always been told it flourished in the 20th century. Relatively speaking, the Jewish people had resided in Eastern Europe prior to World War II. Due to their persecution by Hitler, the United Nations created the nation of Israel, a part of Palestine, to be a safe place for Jews throughout the world in the years following the Holocaust.

There was a problem with that. The area was mostly Islamic and held the holiest city in the world for Islam, Christianity, and Judaism. The Palestinians were not about to let their homeland be taken from them; one of their holy cities ripped from their hands. The Jews just wanted a place to breathe after thousands of years of persecutions. They wanted to go home. To where their
religion began. So, they fought. It ended. And now they fight again.

To the Israeli people, the attack by Hamas was that of terrorism. Of hatred and violence against their people, and attack that cost over 1,400 Israeli lives. To Hamas, they were martyrs. Their reign of terror was in hopes of gaining back their home. I do know who’s in the wrong. The killers of innocents. Those with their hands forever stained red.

But I don’t know who’s right. Afterall, I just see what’s shown on the news. The words sprawled out in bolded headlines. Repulsive pictures with even more devastating captions. But even worse, I see the innocents. I see the blazing missiles. Parents sobbing over the dangling bodies of their dead children. Collapsing buildings. I just see the view of an outsider.

But as an outsider, I think it’s all wrong; the deaths, screams, and cries. My internal compass is ticking and ticking, swirling in circles because it can’t find the right direction. The truth. The good. There is no good in war