The other day, I shared on my blog a piece from The Verge about a Microsoft employee who disrupted the company’s 50th anniversary event to protest what she described as genocide—referring to Israel’s military actions in Palestine. The article, and especially the accompanying video, really got me thinking.

This woman called on her company to stop providing AI technologies for use in Israel’s military operations in Gaza—operations which have continued in response to Hamas’s attack on Israel on October 7, 2023. She directly accused her boss, Microsoft’s CEO of AI, of profiting from war and from what she referred to as a genocide of Palestinians by Israel. Her email, which is included in the article, is well worth reading.

Now, I find myself wondering: was this a pacifist protest, coming from someone with an anti-military, anti-escalation stance? Or was it solely a pro-Palestinian demonstration, aimed at condemning Israel’s military machine? I don’t know much more about this woman, so I’m not going to assume either. Instead, I want to ask a few broader questions—using this protest only as the spark for a wider reflection.

I’d ask someone who condemns Israel’s actions in Gaza and calls it genocide: do you believe Palestine has a right to defend itself? And if so, does that right include the terrorist actions of groups like Hamas? Does it include mass murder and the kidnapping of innocents—this time, Israelis?

I’d ask someone who mourns the October 7 attacks: do you think Israel has a right to defend itself? And if so, does that right include mass bombings of civilians—this time, Palestinians? The complete destruction of homes, businesses, infrastructure, hospitals? Occupation of land? The forced displacement of thousands, maybe millions?

The most common answer in both cases, I fear, is “yes” to everything. In which case we’re not really talking about pacifists—we’re talking about people who justify violence, as long as it’s their side doing it.

And I think it’s naïve to believe a different world is possible.

It’s naïve to think a massive corporation like Microsoft would refuse to let its products be used by the military to kill people—or flex power. They’ll call it defense, or deterrence, but let’s not kid ourselves.

It’s naïve to think that, with war drums beating across Europe and probably the rest of the world, the reasonable thing isn’t to ramp up defense spending and brace for what’s coming.

It’s naïve to believe that the tribes we call nations, states, powers—will stop violently competing for land and resources. That’s what we’ve always done. Sure, these last 80 years have been a golden age of peace and prosperity, powered by globalized capitalism. But the system’s full of cracks, and the players who didn’t benefit—or didn’t benefit enough—want to tear it down and start over. They want a new game, a new balance of power. No matter the price to pay. A price that others will pay.

And yet… naivety might be the only thing we’ve got left.

To keep believing a better world is possible. To keep shouting that we’re not going to war, no matter how convincingly they paint the enemy.

Don’t make me hate a Palestinian—I won’t.
Don’t make me hate an Israeli—I won’t.
I won’t hate an American, a Russian, a Belarusian, a Salvadoran, a Spaniard, a Chinese, a Korean, an Indian, a South African, an Algerian, a Brazilian, a Venezuelan, a New Zealander.

I will hate the men—it’s usually men—who send others to kill and die.

When war comes, I’ll protect my family. We’ll hide wherever we can. And if we’re lucky, we’ll crawl out of whatever hole we found. Or maybe not. Maybe the steamroller won’t let us breathe.

But no, that’s not really what I think. That’s what I wish I could think.

The truth is—I know fear. And I’m starting to feel it closing in. It makes us survivors. It makes us tremble. It makes us hate. It makes us react. Attack. Want to feel strong. Fear being crushed. Crush before being crushed.

I don’t know anything. I’m not sure about anything. I don’t think there’s anything we can do—except wait for history to overtake us.

It feels inevitable. And oh, how I wish it weren’t: Si vis pacem, para bellum.