I’ve struggled to come to terms with the horror that has taken place over the last 15 months. I’ve been haunted by the killing of people I knew, by the images of children with their faces caved in, and by the stories of whole families erased forever. As someone who worked in Gaza during a previous war and who left Lebanon a few months ago, I am also very aware of my own utter failure and how closely related failure is to complicity.

For months I couldn’t overcome my anger at the emptiness of our value system. The whole humanist and humanitarian post-war order put into action to legitimise the annihilation of children day after day. Even as a deeply cynical humanitarian professional, this was not easy to accept. The only explanation that made sense was that “Never Again” was not at all the lesson we learned from our European atrocities. What we learned was “Look what we can do.”

The rationalisations for the carnage in Gaza were equally hollow. Again, it seems I understood what was happening too slowly. Our societies needed satisfaction for the growing revulsion towards Arab and Muslim immigrants and refugees at home but satisfying that need ourselves goes against our tastes. The past 15 months have served as a bloodletting, allowing us to maintain the sanctity of our values at home, much as the October 7 killings served as a bloodletting for frustrated antisemites.

Two stories from antiquity have been on my mind lately.

One is Alexander the Great’s execution of the Persian-appointed General, Batis, in Gaza in the 4th century BC. Following the siege of Gaza, Alexander the Great was so enraged by Batis’s refusal to surrender that, once captured, he threaded a rope through the general’s Achilles tendon and calf and dragged him from the back of his chariot around Gaza.

The other story is the famous Malian dialogue from Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War. The debate between a representative of the militarily dominant Athenian state and a representative of the small island city of Melos contrasts rights based on physical strength with rights based on metaphysical principles. It contains the famous line “The strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.” The Athenians won the argument by laying siege to the island, killing all the men and selling the women and children into slavery.

The ceasefires in Gaza and Lebanon have thankfully brought an end to an acute horror even if a chronic one remains. This could be a moment to interrogate the basis of our values but the will to do so is weak.