To look at Gaza from Kabul amplifies everything, including the sense of powerlessness.

It is since 7 October that every day I think we have seen the worst and yet every new day brings a new measure of horror that shreds whatever is left of our broken hearts.

When Israeli soldiers posted their selfies with female lingerie looted from the drawers of the Palestinian homes that they just destroyed, I thought we had hit the rock bottom. And then there were photos of Israeli soldiers posing all smiles cradled in the cribs of the Palestinian children they just killed. And then rave parties to block the trucks carrying humanitarian aid. And then drones shot at children flying kites on the border with Egypt. And then the daily updates on the number of babies and children killed by starvation.

I thought we couldn’t do any worse. I thought we now had the taste of the apocalypse in our mouths.  

And then what will go down in history as the “flour massacre” happened. The Israeli government defined an unfortunate incident what is in fact a deliberate massacre where the Israeli Army shot at people rushing to gather the little humanitarian aid the Israelis are allowing to trickle into the Gaza Strip. So far there are 104 Palestinians killed and 700 wounded. The balance is likely to increase.

I struggle to come to terms with this and I struggle to breathe fully, a sense of failure chokes me. A few days ago, in an interview to Humza Yousaf, the Scottish First Minister, they asked him what his message to the people of Gaza would be. His answer, with a broken voice, was: I am sorry, humanity has failed you.

And so, I am sorry Gaza for all that we haven’t done and for all that we continue not to do. Maybe we can’t do worse than this, so we are probably only left with facing the pain of such failure and to do a little better: to continue feeling indignation and to continue denouncing these horrors so as they won’t become the norm.

Because it is not true that we have to be resigned to live in a world that we don’t like.