Saleem Bukhari
Once again, the world is silent — and this time, while an average of 28 children lose their precious lives every single day in Gaza. This is not fiction, nor exaggeration, but a soul-shaking fact drawn from the latest report by the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), which screams at us through its stark simplicity and forces us to confront the depth of our collective numbness.
On Monday, UNICEF shared a post that chilled the bones: “Children are dying due to bombings, malnutrition, starvation and the collapse of basic services.” These words are far more than black ink on paper. They are echoes of screaming bodies, deserted alleys, and mothers whose arms are now empty, whose eyes have lost even the final flicker of hope.
According to Gaza’s Ministry of Health, more than 61,000 Palestinians have been killed so far, over half of whom are women and children. Every slain child was a dream, a story, a light snuffed out before it could ever shine. Buried within their names were future teachers, doctors, engineers, poets and musicians. But today, they rest beneath soil — and beneath the crushing weight of global silence.
In Gaza, it is not only explosives raining down. Famine hangs like a dark cloud. The Israeli blockade has rendered the delivery of food, medicine, and fuel nearly impossible. The United Nations and humanitarian organizations have repeatedly warned that Gaza is teetering on the edge of famine. But that edge has long since been crossed — only the final figures remain to be tallied.
According to the UN World Food Programme, over 90 percent of Gaza’s population faces extreme food insecurity. Children who survive the bombs are quickly gripped by hunger. Their bodies shrivel, their eyes dim, and their growth — both physical and spiritual — is halted by an absence of nutrition, compassion and care.
The health system in Gaza has completely collapsed. Hospital buildings are either rubble or abandoned. Doctors and nurses watch helplessly as patients perish due to the lack of medicine, electricity or functioning ambulances. According to the UN, 32 of Gaza’s 36 hospitals are now non-operational. Women give birth on streets, vaccinations have stopped and wounds bleed openly — for there are no bandages, no antiseptic, no healing hands.
The world’s silence suggests this is no mere war — it resembles a silent genocide. The Israeli bombings, ground operations and blockade appear to be part of a deliberate campaign where the target is not just land, but an entire people. A spokesperson for UNICEF stated plainly: “It is not just children who are dying — a part of humanity is being lost.” That sentence alone is enough to rattle our conscience, if we are still capable of listening.
In Europe’s capitals, speeches are made about human rights. In the halls of the U.S. Senate, declarations ring out. At the United Nations headquarters, resolutions are drafted, but for Gaza’s children, no meaningful action materializes. Had the children dying belonged to powerful nations, would the response have been the same? Has the moral compass of humanity become subject to color, creed, and geopolitical convenience?
This is a moment to rise. Not just for Palestine but for the very idea of humanity. Social media posts, protests, relief funds, diplomatic pressure — whatever means are available must be employed. Each child who dies does not merely represent a loss of life but a deep laceration on the soul of civilization itself. If we remain silent now, tomorrow the wounds will appear at our own doorsteps — and no one will hear our cry.
Every child who dies in Gaza leaves behind a single question: “Are you truly human?” That question is directed at the global community, the Muslim world, the human rights institutions — and most of all, at each of us. And when we next face a mirror, it will look back at us, quietly demanding an answer.
