The vow that was supposed to save humanity has collapsed into a slogan. In Gaza, “Never Again” is happening again, while the world watches and whispers excuses.

The Hollow Ritual of Memory

Every January, the world lowers its head. Leaders line up at Holocaust memorials, candles flicker, violins weep. “Never Again,” they whisper, as if repeating the words will keep the past at bay. We congratulate ourselves for remembering. But remembrance without courage is theatre. And theatre does not stop the bombs falling on Gaza.

For the children buried in the rubble, the words “Never Again” ring like a cruel joke. Never Again? It is happening again—different accents, different uniforms, but the same dehumanization, the same silence, the same graves filled with children who should have lived.

The Machinery of Dehumanization

The Holocaust did not begin with gas chambers. It began with words. Rats. Vermin. Parasites. The steady erosion of dignity until killing became a bureaucratic task.

Today, Gaza is described in almost identical terms. Its people reduced to “human animals,” its children cast as shadows rather than lives. Once language strips away humanity, mass death becomes “collateral damage.” Bulldozers flatten homes as if clearing debris. Starving families are labeled “security risks.” A whole population turned into statistics, denied the simple recognition of being human.

The machinery changes its tools, but the blueprint remains the same.

The Complicity of the World

Here is the obscenity: the very nations that stand solemnly at Auschwitz every January are the ones arming the bombardment of Gaza. American presidents, European prime ministers, they mouth “Never Again” with one hand on their chest while the other hand signs arms deals.

The hypocrisy is unbearable. A leader who weeps at a Holocaust memorial in the morning will justify the bombing of schools in the afternoon. Newspapers that publish endless anniversary spreads on the Shoah relegate Gaza’s dead children to a back-page statistic.

The world, once again, is silent. Silence that is not neutral, silence that is consent. Silence that kills twice—once by omission, once by complicity.

The Weaponization of Memory

“Never Again” was meant to be humanity’s oath. But memory has been narrowed, twisted, turned into a national brand rather than a universal principle. The Holocaust’s memory, instead of serving as a warning for all peoples, is used as political currency.

This betrayal is worse than denial. To deny the Holocaust is to erase the past. To weaponize its memory is to poison the present. It means “Never Again” does not apply to everyone—only to some. It becomes conditional. Selective. Hollow.

And what is a broken oath if not another crime?

The Children as Witnesses

Walk through Auschwitz today and you will see small shoes piled behind glass. In Gaza, those shoes are still on children’s feet when the bombs tear them apart. Both sets of children cry out through time: What is the point of memory if it cannot protect us?

History’s testimony is not abstract—it is flesh, bones, laughter cut short. A six-year-old who drew butterflies in the Warsaw Ghetto. A six-year-old in Gaza who just wanted bread. Both silenced by walls, by starvation, by human cruelty justified as necessity.

They are each other’s witnesses, across time and rubble.

The Oath That Became a Lie

The world swore “Never Again” and then built museums, carved speeches, erected statues. But monuments without conscience are empty stones. Words without courage are lies.

Every child buried in Gaza makes those words hollower. Every silence from the West makes them more obscene. “Never Again” was not supposed to be a marketing slogan. It was supposed to be humanity’s line in the sand. In Gaza, that line is not only crossed—it is erased.

If “Never Again” does not mean never again for them, then it never meant anything at all.

“Never Again” was humanity’s promise. Gaza proves it was only humanity’s excuse.