A banner recently unfurled outside Parliament read simply: 'Yes, it’s genocide.' The Telegraph quickly branded it an anti-Israeli protest, yet the ambiguity of its target underscores a recurring issue: the immediate association with Israel and how charged the term 'genocide' has become. Is its application to Gaza a reflection of an undeniable reality, or is it because media discourse has diluted its gravity? Despite its frequent use in contemporary conflicts, the charge is far from frivolous. Israeli historian Professor Amos Goldberg (held in high regard by any self-respecting historian) lent his voice to the protest, declaring, “Once you come to this conclusion, you cannot remain silent.” Amnesty International’s 296-page report documenting alleged war crimes in Gaza bolsters such accusations whilst the IDF's dismissal of the allegations accompanied by a parody of Spotify Wrapped featuring fictional songs like “19,000 Terrorists Dead” from the album “Bye Bye Bye" creates a stark juxtaposition; between a meticulous human rights investigation and cavalier online posturing. 

This bitter battle over language and narrative is a conflict that extends far beyond Gaza itself erupting recently at the Oxford Union, where a debate on Gaza descended into raw emotion. Jonathan Sacerdoti, speaking in support of Israeli policy, recounted how what began as intellectual discourse devolved into vitriolic exchanges. He described anti-Semitic abuse eclipsing reasoned argument, with one audience member shouting: “Liar! F*** you, genocidal motherf***er!” While such actions are intolerable, emotional outbursts should not obscure the actions that provoke them. Israel’s failure to uphold ceasefires, its relentless military campaigns, and the forced relocations of Palestinians demand scrutiny. As Goldberg observed, the destruction in Gaza does not need to mirror the Holocaust in scale to qualify as genocide; it requires only the systematic intent to destroy a group in whole or in part. These actions, and the resultant suffering in Gaza, challenge any moral framework that seeks to justify them.

The issue seems locked in a cycle of hypocrisy, where each side accuses the other of moral failure. For those who see criticism of Israel as inherently anti-Semitic, any attempt to untangle these complex threads appears futile. How can constructive dialogue thrive when a critique of Israeli policy blurs into an attack on Jewish identity? Israel and its allies' insistence that criticism of Zionism equates to anti-Semitism deepens this conflation, silencing dissent while alienating potential allies.

The persistent failure to achieve peace in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict reflects the inadequacy of both intellectual and emotional approaches. Summer marches and repeated calls for non-binding petitions revealed the limitations of rational advocacy, while anger and outrage have derailed efforts toward consensus. If peaceful arguments fail to effect change, can those who turn to emotional appeals be faulted? Whether or not one agrees with the banner outside Parliament, it reflects a growing frustration with a cycle of violence, impunity, and denial from both sides. As the death toll rises, the very human lives at stake are met with an unsettling sense of triviality.