This question has always confused me.

Often, if I’m honest, it isn’t really a question. It’s an insult.

I’ve received emails and comments calling me a “slave” to the Jews. A “house Negro” for supporting Israel. Some go even further and call me a traitor to “my people” simply because I call out Jew-hatred.

Many of the people sending these messages appear to be Arab. Other Black people who publicly support Israel get the same treatment.

But the racism is certainly not limited to Arabs. For some reason, white liberals also seem to feel completely comfortable saying astonishingly racist things to Black people who refuse to hold the political opinions expected of them.

I’ve had a sprinkling of that too.

They all seem to be making the same argument: because I am Black, there is a side I am supposed to support.

My race is brought up constantly whenever I defend Israel from the endless stream of lies and distortions now circulating online. Which is strange, because skin colour has very little to do with how I understand this conflict.

Many Israelis are just as brown as the Arabs around them. Often, you couldn’t tell one from the other simply by looking at them.

I view this conflict primarily through the prism of history, ideology and political culture.

Yet many Westerners have managed to superimpose the racial politics of America and Europe onto a Middle Eastern conflict. Palestinians become emotional stand-ins for Black people, while Israelis are transformed into representatives of “whiteness.”

The entire framework starts collapsing the moment you look at the people who actually live there.

A very large share of Israeli Jews are Mizrahi or Sephardic, with roots in the Middle East and North Africa. After Israel’s creation and the wars surrounding it, hundreds of thousands of Jews fled or were driven from countries across the Arab and Muslim world. Ancient Jewish communities—some of them thousands of years old—were shattered through persecution, violence, dispossession, political pressure and expulsion.

Many eventually made their way to Israel.

You will hear endless discussion of the Nakba. You will hear considerably less about the disappearance of Jewish communities from much of the Middle East and North Africa.

Then there are Israel’s Arab citizens, who make up roughly a fifth of the population. There are Ashkenazi Jews, Ethiopian Jews, mixed families and people from almost every conceivable background.

Whatever else Israel is, describing it as some kind of homogeneous “white” colonial society is detached from reality.

And yet that caricature survives because it is politically useful.

It allows people to force the Israeli-Palestinian conflict into a familiar Western morality play: white oppressor, brown victim.

That is also one reason the word apartheid has become so popular.

I routinely get told that Nelson Mandela would be ashamed of me.

Why?

Because I’m Black, and therefore my political sympathies have apparently already been assigned.

Apartheid Was About Race

I grew up in South Africa. Apartheid was a system of racial segregation imposed by law. People living under the same state were classified and treated differently because of their race.

That is an important distinction.

Arab citizens of Israel vote, hold public office, become judges, doctors, lawyers, soldiers and members of parliament. They possess Israeli citizenship and, under Israeli law, the civil rights attached to it.

Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank are in a fundamentally different political category. They are not Israeli citizens. Gaza has been governed by Hamas, while Palestinians in parts of the West Bank live under the Palestinian Authority, within an unresolved territorial conflict involving Palestinian self-government and varying degrees of Israeli military control.

That situation can be criticised. Israeli policy can be criticised. The legal and political status of the West Bank can be debated endlessly.

But calling every restriction, checkpoint or security barrier “apartheid” simply because Palestinians and Israelis are treated differently strips the word of its historical meaning.

Those restrictions did not arise because Arabs have darker skin.

They arose in the context of decades of war, terrorism, suicide bombings, insurgency and territorial conflict.

That distinction matters.

Palestinians Are Not Black South Africans

Palestinians are routinely placed into the mould of Black South Africans under apartheid or African-Americans during the civil-rights movement.

Once you accept that framing, people like me become confusing.

How could a Black man possibly oppose the side represented as the oppressed brown population?

Palestinians are the poor, colonised brown people. Israelis are white Europeans. America is the imperial power funding them.

Everything fits neatly into a political template imported from somewhere else.

The reality is considerably uglier and more complicated.

Palestinian society has endured decades of radicalisation. Hamas openly embraces jihadism and the destruction of Israel. The Palestinian Authority has spent years glorifying terrorists and financially rewarding the families of Palestinians who attack Israelis. Children have been exposed to propaganda glorifying martyrdom. Palestinian political culture has repeatedly elevated the dream of eliminating Israel above the compromises required to build a functioning Palestinian state.

That does not mean every Palestinian believes the same thing.

It does mean we should stop pretending that Palestinian politics resembles the American civil-rights movement.

There is no Palestinian Martin Luther King.

There is no Palestinian Mandela.

And on October 7, the world saw something very different from a civil-rights struggle.

Civilians were brutally massacred. Women were raped. People were kidnapped. Families were slaughtered in their homes. Young people were hunted down at a music festival.

That violence was not incidental to Hamas’s worldview.

It was an expression of it.

And I am supposed to support this because I am Black?

How dare anyone make that demand of me.

What Exactly Do Black People Owe Arabs?

I’ll take the argument further.

If we really want to reduce politics to racial inheritance, what exactly do Black people owe Arabs?

I have received some of the most openly racist messages imaginable from Arabs because I refuse to support the pro-Palestinian movement.

Again: why should my race obligate me to them?

Arab and wider Islamic societies were involved in the enslavement of Africans for more than a thousand years. Enslaved Africans were transported across the Sahara, through the Red Sea and across the Indian Ocean into North Africa, Arabia and the wider Muslim world.

The exact scale is difficult to calculate because the trade stretched across centuries and the historical records are incomplete. Estimates vary considerably, but they run into the many millions. Some historians have placed the overall number enslaved through the Arab and wider Islamic slave trades in the range of roughly 12 to 18 million, with the true number potentially higher.

And the brutality of that trade is often strangely absent from modern conversations about slavery.

Africans were marched across enormous stretches of desert, with many dying along the way. Women and girls were sold into domestic and sexual slavery. Boys and men were often times castrated.

This was not some brief historical episode. It went on for approximately 1300 years!

And anti-Black prejudice did not magically disappear when those slave systems declined.

Racism against Black people remains a serious problem in parts of the Arab world today. Even the Arabic word abeed—literally “slaves”—has historically been used as a derogatory term for Black people. In Gaza, a neighbourhood commonly referred to as Al-Abeed has long been associated with Afro Palestinians.

I normally dislike analysing history this way.

I do not believe modern Arabs inherit personal guilt for what Arabs did centuries ago, any more than I believe modern Europeans inherit personal guilt for the transatlantic slave trade or everything Europeans once did.

That is precisely the point.

But if someone insists that racial history should determine my political loyalties, then the argument cuts both ways.

You cannot tell me I must support Arabs because I am Black while conveniently forgetting one of the longest and most brutal histories of African enslavement in the world.

The Hypocrisy Is the Point

This is what irritates me most.

The hypocrisy.

The people calling me a “house Negro” imagine themselves to be anti-racists while racially policing the political opinions of a Black man.

They accuse Israel of being uniquely racist while ignoring racism throughout the societies they romanticise.

They invoke apartheid while disregarding the fact that Arab citizens of Israel participate in Israeli society under the same legal citizenship framework as Jewish citizens.

They speak endlessly about colonialism while barely acknowledging centuries of Arab conquest, imperial expansion and slave trading.

They accuse Israel of intolerance while holding up societies in which women, religious minorities and gay people face real persecution and sometimes death.

And then they call me the slave.

Israel is an imperfect country. Like every democracy, it contains racism, political problems, religious tensions and policies worth criticising.

But it is also a country in which Jews, Arabs, Muslims, Christians, Druze, Black Israelis, gay Israelis, secular Israelis and religious Israelis live under one political system and argue openly about the future of their country.

Israel carried out extraordinary operations to bring Ethiopian Jews to safety. Jewish history itself contains slavery, persecution, expulsions, pogroms and genocide.

None of that makes Israel morally infallible. It simply makes the racial caricature absurd.

I do not support Israel because I am Black, and I certainly do not support Israel because I am anyone’s “slave.”

I support Israel because I have read the history, looked at the societies involved and considered the values they represent.

I refuse to allow my skin colour to dictate my politics.

But if the people calling me a racial traitor insist on making race the standard by which my loyalties must be judged, they may not like where that argument leads.

Because even by their own standard, I would still choose Israel.

The precise form varies. Sometimes it is the hijab, sometimes the niqab, and in its most extreme form, the burqa. In some societies these coverings are enforced by law. In others, they are enforced through family expectations, religious obligation, community pressure or the threat of social exclusion.

But these practices did not emerge from nowhere. The requirement that women conceal parts of their bodies from men is deeply rooted in Islamic scripture and centuries of Islamic jurisprudence—Sharia. Muslim scholars have disagreed over precisely how much a woman must cover, which helps explain the differences between the hijab, niqab and other forms of Islamic dress. But the underlying principle remains: a woman’s modesty requires her to conceal herself in the presence of men outside her immediate family.

The garments are different. The underlying idea is not.

Women are expected to conceal themselves because the female body is treated as something dangerous: something capable of provoking men, tempting men and corrupting men. Instead of demanding mastery over male behaviour, the burden is placed upon women to prevent it.

The weakness of men is sanctified while the bodies of women are criminalised.

Once you understand that, the covering itself becomes more than clothing. It becomes the visible expression of a much deeper understanding of the relationship between men and women.

In societies where this ideology has been allowed to fully express itself, the consequences are not difficult to see. Women become functionally second-class citizens, subjected to restrictions that touch nearly every part of their lives. They are beaten, sexually abused, forced into marriages, denied basic freedoms and often treated as though their lives exist beneath the authority of men.

Under the Taliban in Afghanistan, this logic has been pushed to its most horrifying conclusion. Women have been driven almost completely from public life. Their education, movement, employment and ability to participate openly in society have been systematically restricted until they have become voiceless, faceless and invisible.

The point is not that every Muslim woman lives under identical conditions, nor that every form of covering represents the same degree of coercion. The point is that the ideology behind these practices does not suddenly become benign because it crosses a European border.

When the Covering of Women Becomes Normal

And yet something very strange has happened in the West.

As Islam has grown within Western societies, some of the practices associated with its view of women have travelled with it. Instead of being examined critically, the covering of women is increasingly defended and sometimes even celebrated.

Across Europe, hijabs, niqabs and other Islamic coverings have become increasingly visible. Even here in Finland, where I live, I rarely leave the house without seeing women—and increasingly young girls—wearing them. In some areas, it has become so common that pretending this is merely an occasional cultural curiosity no longer makes sense.

The same phenomenon is far more established elsewhere in Europe and in concentrated Muslim communities in North America, like Dearborn, Michigan. And this matters, because the question is not simply what an adult woman chooses to put on her head one morning.

The larger question is what happens when an ideology that has historically imposed profound restrictions upon women begins establishing itself inside societies built upon very different assumptions about female freedom.

Many people find that question uncomfortable. I do not.

I think we have spent far too long approaching this issue with excessive caution because nobody wants to be called insensitive, intolerant or bigoted. But societies cannot survive indefinitely by refusing to make moral judgements.

At some point, we have to be capable of looking at competing ideas and deciding that one is better than another. A civilisation that believes women should live freely and openly is better than one that teaches them to conceal themselves because men may not control their desires.

That should not be difficult to say.

The Liberal Defence: Women Can Choose

The responses to criticism of Islamic coverings are familiar. We are told that criticism is Islamophobic, that this is simply another culture, that religious freedom must be respected and, most importantly, that women should be free to wear whatever they want.

That final argument is the most serious one.

Of course women should generally be free to wear what they want, as men are. That freedom is one of the achievements of the liberal civilisation in which we live.

But the argument becomes strangely circular when the freedom created by liberal society is invoked to protect practices emerging from an ideology that does not extend the same freedom to women inside its own communities.

Because there are really two freedoms at stake here.

There is the freedom to wear the hijab, and there is the freedom to take it off.

Western liberals seem passionately concerned with defending the first. They appear considerably less interested in investigating whether every girl and woman genuinely possesses the second.

The Feminist Contradiction

This is especially strange when the defence comes from liberal and left-wing feminists.

These are often the same people willing to scrutinise Western society for the slightest trace of sexism. They rage against Christian conservatism, traditional gender roles, advertising, workplace expectations and supposedly oppressive beauty standards. Yet when women are told that modesty requires them to conceal their hair or bodies because of the sexual reactions of men, suddenly the moral certainty disappears.

The language changes. We begin hearing about cultural sensitivity, religious tradition and the dangers of prejudice. Ideas that would be condemned immediately if they emerged from a Western Christian context are treated with remarkable delicacy when they come from Islam.

Meanwhile, some of the fiercest critics of Islamic covering are women who actually grew up within these cultures.

Ex-Muslim women and dissidents have repeatedly described what these practices can mean when they are not viewed from the comfortable distance of a Western university seminar. They understand that coercion does not always arrive through legislation or through the police.

Sometimes the pressure comes from your father or brother. Sometimes it comes from your husband, your extended family or the wider community around you. Sometimes nobody needs to threaten you explicitly because you have understood from childhood exactly what a “good Muslim girl” is expected to look like and what happens socially when she refuses.

That pressure may never be written into law.

It is still pressure.

And this is the contradiction modern feminism has failed to seriously confront. It has become more passionate about defending a woman’s right to cover herself than ensuring that another woman has the freedom not to.

Choice Does Not End the Argument

The obvious response is that many Muslim women in Western countries freely choose to wear the hijab.

I have no difficulty believing that. Some undoubtedly do. Some believe deeply in Islam, some consider covering an expression of religious devotion, and some may even describe it as empowering.

But that does not end the argument.

An individual can freely choose to participate in a practice while the wider social system surrounding that practice remains deeply coercive toward others. Both things can be true at the same time.

One woman may freely wear the hijab while another fifteen-year-old girl understands perfectly well that removing hers would mean humiliation at home, conflict with her parents, rejection from her community or worse.

The existence of the first woman does not erase the second.

Yet our discussion of Islamic covering in the West often stops the moment someone says the word “choice.” We rarely ask what conditions shape that choice, what happens to girls who choose differently, or how much pressure exists inside communities whose internal norms remain largely invisible to the wider society.

And perhaps most importantly, we rarely ask what happens when those communities become larger, more concentrated and more confident.

More Than Clothing

This is why reducing the argument to clothing misses the point.

A hijab is not a burqa. The degree of restriction is obviously different. But they emerge from the same broader ideological framework: the belief that female modesty carries a religious obligation to conceal the body from men.

That is the idea I reject.

Not because fabric itself possesses some magical power of oppression, but because we know where this understanding of women can lead when it gains political, religious and social power.

We have seen women punished over their hair. We have seen morality police patrol streets. We have seen girls driven from classrooms and women steadily pushed out of public life. These are not theoretical possibilities invented by paranoid Westerners. They exist in the real world.

And it is extraordinary that Western societies can observe these realities abroad while convincing themselves that the ideology responsible for them becomes entirely harmless once practised within our borders.

How Normalisation Works

Nobody wakes up one morning in Paris, Helsinki or London and suddenly finds themselves living under the Taliban.

That is obviously not how cultural change works.

It happens gradually.

A practice that first appears unusual becomes familiar. Familiarity becomes normalisation. Once normalised, criticism becomes more difficult because criticism is increasingly interpreted as an attack on the people practising it. Before long, defending the practice becomes synonymous with tolerance itself.

At the same time, communities large enough to sustain their own social norms begin exerting greater influence over the people living inside them. None of this requires the government to mandate anything. Parallel societies can exercise enormous power while the state remains formally liberal.

That is precisely what should concern us.

A girl living inside such a community may possess every legal right enjoyed by every other citizen. On paper she may be free to dress differently, reject religion, date whom she wants, marry whom she wants or walk away from the faith entirely.

But rights written into law mean considerably less when exercising them can cost you your family, your community, your reputation or even your physical safety.

This is where simplistic appeals to “choice” become inadequate.

Tolerance Has Limits

This brings us to the deeper question.

What does a tolerant society do with an ideology containing deeply intolerant ideas?

For decades, the Western instinct has been to answer by expanding the definition of tolerance itself. We tell ourselves that pluralism requires us to accommodate increasingly different values, that religious freedom demands restraint in criticism, and that minorities must be protected from hostility.

Those principles are worth defending.

But tolerance cannot mean moral paralysis.

A society confident in its own values must be capable of protecting religious freedom while still saying that some religious ideas are abhorrent. It must be capable of protecting Muslims from discrimination while criticising Islam. It must be capable of defending an adult woman’s legal right to wear a hijab while simultaneously opposing the ideology that tells girls they ought to cover themselves in the first place.

Otherwise tolerance becomes something very different.

It becomes surrender.

The Freedom Not to Cover

We are approaching a point where these questions can no longer be treated as obscure cultural debates.

The next ten or twenty years will help determine what kind of societies our children—and their children—inherit. The debate about the hijab may appear small, but it is a microcosm of a much larger question confronting the West as Islam grows within it: what happens when Islamic beliefs and practices come into direct conflict with the freedoms and values Western societies claim to defend?

This is not an abstract question about every culture or religion. Islam is growing within Western societies now, and with it come ideas about women, sexuality, religious authority and individual freedom that often conflict with our own. The question is whether the West still possesses enough confidence in its civilisation to recognise those conflicts when they arise—and enough moral clarity to say that our values are worth defending.

A society can speak endlessly about women’s equality, individual liberty and freedom of conscience. But those principles only mean something when they survive contact with cultures and religions that do not share them. Tolerance cannot simply mean allowing every practice to take root and then calling its existence an expression of choice. Choice means very little if the social, religious and familial pressures surrounding a woman make one choice infinitely more difficult than the other.

This is the inversion at the heart of the debate. We have become so concerned with defending the freedom to cover that we risk becoming blind to the freedom that matters even more: the freedom not to. The language of tolerance should never become a shield behind which coercion, however subtle, is allowed to flourish. Nor should religious freedom require us to stand by while girls grow up under restrictions that contradict the freedoms of the society around them.

The real test of freedom, then, is not whether a Muslim woman in Helsinki can choose to wear the hijab.

Of course she can.

The real test is whether her daughter can grow up, look at her family, her community and her religion, decide that she does not believe what they believe, remove it, and walk outside uncovered without fear.

That is what freedom looks like.

And every girl growing up in the West should inherit it.

Any society that loses the courage to defend that freedom will eventually discover that tolerance, when stripped of judgement, can become the very thing that destroys it.

Depending on your worldview, that sentence is either an obvious statement of fact or an expression of outright bigotry.

That reaction is revealing.

It exposes one of the deepest divides in the modern West.

One side sees culture primarily as a collection of food, festivals, clothing and traditions that people are free to exchange without fundamentally changing the society around them.

The other sees culture as something far deeper: the set of values, beliefs and assumptions that ultimately shape the kind of civilisation a society becomes.

Europe is increasingly becoming the place where these two visions collide.

The events in Ceuta are merely the latest manifestation of that divide.

Ceuta Was Never Just About Immigration

Pedro Sánchez is facing fierce backlash over the situation in Ceuta, Spain’s small North African enclave.

At the end of July 2026, thousands of Moroccan illegal migrants came streaming ashore. The footage was extraordinary. A tangle of running bodies, punctuated by jeering, laughter and celebration, surged across the beaches. It genuinely looked like an invasion.

Those who defend illegal migration often point to women and children as evidence that the issue is purely humanitarian, suggesting that anyone who objects must simply lack compassion. That argument becomes much harder to sustain when confronted with the reality of Ceuta.

The overwhelming majority were young, healthy, military-aged men.

Morocco is approximately 99% Muslim. It is therefore reasonable to assume that the overwhelming majority of those arriving shared not only a nationality, but a common religious and cultural background.

That matters because culture is not value-neutral. It shapes how societies understand everything from religious freedom to the role of women.

If culture influences the kind of society people build—as I believe it does—then it is entirely reasonable to ask what effect large-scale migration from one civilisation may have on another.

Nor did this happen in a vacuum.

Earlier this year, Sánchez announced plans to regularise hundreds of thousands of illegal migrants already living in Spain. More than one million applications followed. Predictably, the policy was defended using familiar language: compassion, multiculturalism and openness.

But governments do not simply respond to incentives; they create them.

How could policies signalling that illegal entry may ultimately lead to legal status fail to encourage others to attempt the same journey?

Ceuta is not merely a border crisis.

It is a symptom of a much larger civilisational debate.

Culture Shapes Society

Culture is the backbone of society.

By culture, I do not simply mean food, music or national customs. I mean the deeper beliefs that shape how a society understands freedom, justice, family, authority and human dignity.

It is the accumulated inheritance of history, language, religion and philosophy—the story a civilisation tells itself about who it is and what it values.

Culture determines what is admired and what is condemned. It influences how strangers treat one another, how families raise children, what laws are written and what behaviours are tolerated. It creates the invisible assumptions that make societies function long before governments intervene.

It is, in many ways, the operating system beneath politics.

For much of the Western world, that operating system emerged from Christianity and Greek rationality.

Our understanding of justice, the intrinsic dignity of every human being, compassion, forgiveness and equality before the law did not appear by accident. They developed over centuries within a particular civilisational tradition. Even many of those who reject Christianity today continue to live within a moral framework that Christianity helped build.

Immigration Is a Civilisational Question

Leaders like Pedro Sánchez—and many across Europe and North America—tend to approach this question almost exclusively through an economic lens.

“Diversity is our strength.”

Migrants fill labour shortages. They offset declining birth rates. They contribute to economic growth. Refugees deserve protection.

These arguments focus almost entirely on short-term material concerns. Within that framework, opposition to migration is often dismissed as irrational fear or xenophobia.

But many of us are asking a different question altogether.

We are viewing migration—particularly from Islamic societies—not primarily through economics, but through the long-term lens of civilisation.

The issue is not whether individual migrants can contribute positively to society.

Many do.

The question is whether cultures consistently produce different social outcomes—and whether importing large populations from societies built upon fundamentally different values eventually changes the society receiving them.

That is a far more important question.

It is also the one Europe increasingly finds itself answering.

A Civilisation Without Confidence

The modern West has become remarkably uncertain of its own identity. It constantly interrogates its own history, often reducing it to a catalogue of oppression and injustice. Patriotism is viewed with suspicion. National identity is treated as something embarrassing rather than something worth preserving.

Islamic civilisation, by contrast, largely does not.

It believes its moral claims are universal. Its scriptures present Islam as the final revelation, not simply another tradition among many. Throughout history, that certainty has often been accompanied by expansion, conquest and the belief that every society ought to submit to Islamic law. Even today, some of the world’s deadliest terrorist organisations draw both their justification and their willingness to die from that same worldview.

When these two outlooks meet, the result is predictable. Islam encounters a civilisation so tolerant that it often defends intolerance in the name of tolerance.

It encounters people willing to condemn the civilisation that produced their freedoms while hesitating to criticise those who reject them—like Islam.

And among those Westerners who have come to despise their own inheritance, it often finds willing allies. Or as some would say: “Useful idiots”.

The Contradictions of Multiculturalism

Nowhere is this contradiction more visible than in discussions surrounding women.

It is remarkable how often self-described feminists remain silent about the treatment of women throughout much of the Muslim world.

More remarkable still is their reluctance to confront similar realities emerging within parallel societies across Europe.

Women and girls living in Western countries are, in some communities, pressured to cover their hair, their bodies and sometimes even their faces. The pressure to conform to Islamic norms within these communities can be every bit as powerful as in the countries from which those traditions originated.

Yet criticism is frequently dismissed with a single defence:

“It is their culture.”

Ironically, the very people who insist that all cultures deserve equal respect often leave vulnerable women trapped within cultures they would never tolerate for themselves.

In the name of multiculturalism, they become unwilling to defend the very liberal values they claim to champion.

The Paradox of Tolerance

This leads to a question the West has spent decades trying to avoid.

Should tolerant societies tolerate intolerant ideologies?

Karl Popper famously described this as the paradox of tolerance. A society that extends unlimited tolerance to movements fundamentally opposed to tolerance eventually creates the conditions for its own destruction.

The issue, then, is not whether the West should become intolerant.

It is whether it should become unapologetically intolerant towards intolerance itself.

That may include restricting migration from regions where intolerant ideologies remain deeply embedded—not because people belong to a particular ethnicity, but because ideas have consequences, cultures matter, and societies have both the right and the responsibility to preserve the conditions that made them free.

Europe Is Already Showing the Consequences

This is why I believe migration is ultimately a civilisational question.

Europe is already beginning to demonstrate what happens when these concerns are ignored.

Sweden, once regarded as one of the safest countries in the world, now struggles with gang violence and terrorism. Germany fortifies Christmas markets against vehicle attacks carried out in the name of Allah. France, the United Kingdom and Italy face many of the same tensions. Even countries as geographically distant as Finland are beginning to display early signs of similar challenges, albeit on a much smaller scale.

By contrast, countries that have severely restricted large-scale migration—Poland being one notable example—have largely avoided many of these problems.

These comparisons deserve honest discussion rather than immediate dismissal.

Some Cultures Produce Better Societies

This is ultimately why the opening sentence matters.

Some cultures—and the stories they tell themselves—produce societies more conducive to human flourishing than others.

That does not mean every individual within one culture is morally superior to every individual within another. Nor does it mean societies cannot reform or improve.

It simply recognises an obvious reality: ideas shape cultures, cultures shape institutions, and institutions shape the lives people are able to live.

If we refuse to acknowledge that some cultural foundations are better at protecting liberty, equality before the law, freedom of conscience and the dignity of the individual, then we lose any meaningful reason to preserve those foundations ourselves.

The freedoms enjoyed throughout much of the Western world remain remarkably rare in human history.

They did not emerge by accident.

They were built over centuries, inherited by successive generations, and entrusted to us.

If we believe all cultures are equally capable of producing the same society, we lose any reason to preserve the one that gave us liberty, equality before the law, freedom of conscience and the dignity of the individual in the first place.

Those freedoms are not merely achievements of the past. They are an inheritance—one I hope to pass on to my children, and to the countless generations that come long after I’m gone.

Migration is not merely an economic question.

It is not merely a humanitarian question.

It is a civilisational one.

So no.

All cultures are not equal.

He was, of course, informed that the Mayor of New York has no authority to dictate American foreign policy.

But while the promise itself was always political theatre, the video served another purpose entirely. It became a carefully crafted piece of propaganda, capitalising on the attention surrounding the controversy to present a deeply distorted account of the war in Gaza.

That should concern everyone.

When elected officials use the authority of their office to repeat misinformation about one of the world’s most scrutinised conflicts, they do more than mislead the public. They erase the context that explains why this war exists in the first place, obscure the atrocities committed against Israelis on October 7th, and provide political cover for a terrorist organisation that openly celebrates the murder of Jews.

Mamdani’s video is a textbook example.

He calls Netanyahu a “war criminal.” He claims Israel has killed 73,000 people. He declares the war a “genocide”—a legal conclusion that has not been reached by the International Court of Justice. Throughout the video, responsibility for civilian suffering is placed entirely on Israel, as though the war began because Israel simply decided to invade Gaza for sport.

If someone knew nothing about this conflict, they would come away believing exactly that.

What they would not learn is just as important.

Mamdani never tells his audience that the widely cited figure of 73,000 comes from the Hamas-run health authorities, whose casualty figures do not distinguish between civilians, combatants, or those who died from natural causes. They do not account for Palestinians killed by Hamas itself—a documented occurrence—or by the countless rockets fired by Palestinian terrorist groups that fall short and land inside Gaza.

That lack of distinction is not an accident.

Hamas has every incentive to blur the line between civilian and combatant. The less the world understands who was killed and how they died, the easier it becomes for activists, journalists and politicians to repeat inflated or misleading narratives that portray Israel as uniquely barbaric while shielding Hamas from scrutiny.

Reality looks rather different.

John Spencer, one of the world’s leading experts on urban warfare, has described Israel’s campaign in Gaza as having one of the lowest civilian-to-combatant casualty ratios in the history of modern urban warfare. Whether one agrees with every Israeli decision or not, that assessment alone should make anyone hesitate before casually throwing around words like genocide.

The Context Mamdani Left Out

To understand why, we first need to understand what urban warfare actually looks like.

Urban warfare is among the most brutal forms of combat. Civilians and fighters are packed into the same dense environment, making it extraordinarily difficult to strike legitimate military targets while minimising civilian casualties. Innocent people are, tragically, often caught in the crossfire. That is the horrific reality of war, and it becomes even more acute when the battlefield is a city.

Gaza, however, presents an even greater challenge.

For more than two decades, Hamas transformed a strip of land just 25 miles (40 kilometres) long into a military fortress. Beneath it lies a vast underground tunnel network—roughly half the length of New York City’s subway system—with entrances hidden inside homes, schools, hospitals, mosques and civilian buildings. Any opening in the ground could conceal a tunnel from which armed terrorists emerge to attack Israeli forces.

The billions of dollars that poured into Gaza from around the world were not spent building a thriving society. Much of that investment was instead diverted towards military infrastructure designed for a single purpose: preparing for war with Israel.

That underground network is only part of the strategy.

Hamas has deliberately embedded its military operations within civilian areas because civilian casualties are not merely tolerated—they are strategically valuable. When Israeli forces respond to attacks launched from neighbourhoods, schools or hospitals, Hamas knows much of the international media will focus on the resulting destruction rather than asking why military operations were being conducted from protected civilian sites in the first place.

The battlefield itself becomes a weapon.

The deception goes further still.

Hamas fighters routinely operate without uniforms, blending into the civilian population. The Hamas-run health authorities classify anyone under the age of eighteen as a “child”, even though Hamas has a documented history of recruiting teenagers aged fifteen, sixteen and seventeen into its ranks. Casualty figures are then presented without distinguishing between civilians and combatants, creating statistics that generate maximum outrage while revealing remarkably little about who was actually killed.

Each of these practices violates the very principles of international humanitarian law that critics accuse Israel of breaking.

Mamdani’s audience hears none of this.

Nor does he mention that more than 200 hostages—including women, children and the elderly—were dragged into Gaza on October 7th to be used as bargaining chips. He says nothing about the systematic murders, the rapes, the torture, the mutilation of bodies, or the fact that Hamas proudly filmed and celebrated these atrocities themselves.

Instead, his version of events begins after Israel responded.

That omission changes everything.

The Rules of War—and How Hamas Exploits Them

So how should we think about a war like this?

It helps to begin with something much closer to home.

When we live in a functioning society, we rarely think about the immense machinery that keeps it functioning. If someone breaks into your house, assaults your family or robs your business, you don’t take justice into your own hands. You call the police.

The police are entrusted with a monopoly on force. They are authorised by the state to use violence when necessary, but that authority is constrained by law. They cannot act however they please. Their power exists to preserve order, protect innocent people and deter those who would do them harm.

That is the social contract.

National defence operates according to the same principle, but on an international scale.

The crucial difference is that there is no global police force.

When conflict breaks out between states, there is no higher authority capable of stepping in, arresting the aggressor and restoring peace. Nations ultimately defend themselves. However uncomfortable that reality may be, it has been the story of human civilisation since the beginning.

The world we wish existed is not always the world we inhabit.

That is precisely why, after the Second World War, nations sought to establish rules governing how wars are fought.

This is where many people misunderstand international law.

International humanitarian law was never designed to make war impossible. Wars themselves are not illegal. In many cases, they are unavoidable. Instead, these laws attempt to make war less barbaric by regulating how military force may be used.

One of the most fundamental principles is distinction. Civilians may not be deliberately targeted. Combatants may. If a legitimate military target is located near civilians, military action may still be lawful, provided commanders weigh the anticipated military advantage against the expected civilian harm and take reasonable precautions to minimise that harm.

These rules were written on an important assumption: that both sides would at least attempt to respect them.

Groups like Hamas shattered that assumption.

Rather than separating themselves from civilians, they deliberately embed themselves among them. Rather than wearing uniforms, they disguise themselves as civilians. Rather than moving military assets away from protected sites, they place them inside hospitals, schools, apartment buildings and mosques. Rather than helping civilians leave dangerous areas, they have repeatedly encouraged them to remain where fighting is expected.

In other words, Hamas exploits the very laws designed to make war more humane.

The protections afforded to civilians become military assets. Civilian deaths become strategic victories. International law, intended to restrain violence, is transformed into another battlefield.

That is why reducing this war to casualty figures alone is so deeply misleading.

Those numbers tell us how many people died.

They tell us almost nothing about why they died, where they died, who put them in harm’s way, or how either side conducted itself during the fighting.

And that is exactly the gap propaganda exploits.

Despite fighting an enemy that systematically violates almost every principle of international humanitarian law, Israel has still taken extraordinary measures that few militaries in history have attempted at this scale: dropping leaflets, making phone calls, sending text messages, issuing evacuation orders and, in many cases, delaying or cancelling strikes altogether.

None of this suggests Israel has conducted a flawless campaign. No war is flawless.

But it does explain why respected military analysts such as John Spencer have concluded that Israel’s civilian-to-combatant casualty ratio is remarkably low by the standards of modern urban warfare—particularly given the unprecedented challenges Hamas deliberately created.

Why This Lie Matters

This is why Mamdani’s video matters.

At first glance, it looks like another political disagreement over the Middle East. It isn’t.

It is an attempt to reshape how Americans understand one of the defining geopolitical conflicts of our time.

Words like genocide are not political slogans. They are among the gravest accusations that can be levelled against a nation. They invoke the Holocaust, Rwanda, Bosnia and the deliberate extermination of entire peoples. To deploy that language while stripping away the context that produced the war is not simply misleading. It fundamentally alters the moral picture presented to millions of people.

More importantly, it rewards Hamas’ entire strategy.

Hamas cannot defeat Israel militarily. It never could.

Its greatest weapon has always been the suffering of its own civilians. Every tunnel beneath a hospital. Every rocket launched from a residential neighbourhood. Every fighter disguised as a civilian. Every casualty reported without distinction. Every hostage hidden beneath the streets of Gaza. Every one of these tactics serves the same objective: ensuring that international outrage is directed not at the terrorists who engineered the battlefield, but at the democracy forced to fight on it.

When influential public figures repeat that narrative, they are not merely criticising Israel.

They are validating Hamas’ strategy.

But the implications extend far beyond Israel.

Israel is America’s closest ally in the Middle East. To accuse Israel of committing genocide is also to accuse the United States of financing, arming and diplomatically shielding a genocidal state. It is an attack not only on Israel’s legitimacy, but on the moral legitimacy of American foreign policy itself.

That is no small accusation.

It encourages Americans to view their own country not as a force that, however imperfectly, has helped preserve the post-war international order, but as the patron of one of history’s greatest crimes. It teaches distrust not only of Israel, but of the broader Western alliance that has underpinned liberal democracies for generations.

That is precisely the objective of the Islamic Republic of Iran, Hamas and every other movement that seeks to weaken the West. They understand they cannot defeat the United States on the battlefield. Their best hope is to convince Western societies that their own civilisation is fundamentally illegitimate.

Mamdani’s video advances that narrative.

Not accidentally.

Deliberately.

Because omissions of this magnitude do not happen by chance. When you remove October 7th from the story. When you erase Hamas’ tactics. When you ignore the hostages. When you present casualty figures without explaining what they measure—or what they omit—you are not giving your audience an incomplete picture.

You are constructing a false one.

That is why this deserves to be called out.

Not because Mamdani criticised Israel.

But because he used the credibility of public office to persuade millions of people to judge one of the world’s most complicated wars without first telling them the truth.

This was particularly egregious because of the sinister image it painted—of Israelis as monsters capable of withholding food from millions. Being accused of engineered famine is a modern-day blood libel. Especially when the exact opposite was true.

Israel facilitated millions of tonnes of food and aid into Gaza, according to COGAT figures. But facts never stopped the narrative. The UN, which oversaw much of the internal delivery, stayed mostly tight-lipped about the truth—even though the vast majority of its own aid trucks never reached their destinations.

Almost a year later, the UN finally admitted the truth. It was Hamas all along—hijacking aid from the people who needed it most. Unable to stay silent any longer, Dr. Ramiz Alakbarov released this official statement:

“I strongly condemn the recent obstruction of humanitarian operations in Gaza by the de facto authorities, which endangered humanitarian personnel, intimidated workers delivering lifesaving food assistance and disrupted life-saving humanitarian operations.
Yesterday, humanitarian workers were forced to halt food distributions after armed personnel affiliated with the de facto authorities forcibly entered the Abu Rashid food distribution point in Jabalia, North Gaza. The forces also entered a WFP warehouse and reportedly assaulted two truck drivers who were delivering humanitarian supplies.”

The statement still falls short of naming Hamas directly, but things must have gotten completely out of hand for them to say even this much. It’s infuriating that so many humanitarian organisations clung to a comfortable narrative instead of speaking the truth. The only people who suffered the consequences were the Palestinian civilians.

The Mid-2025 Frenzy

The starvation story hit its crescendo in mid-2025. The online outrage was insane—every post a condemnation, every feed flooded with the same recycled pictures of sickly-looking people portrayed as victims of Israeli cruelty. Most were suffering from unrelated illnesses, but that didn’t matter. To the mob, it was irrefutable proof. The images being debunked did little to change people’s minds. The same image would pop up again, and again, regardless.

The world was set ablaze. Condemnations poured in from every direction. Countries like the UK, France, and Canada seized the moment, using the frenzy as cover to recognise a “Palestinian state”. That move was striking: a political decision framed as punishing Israel for an accusation they surely knew was being fuelled—or outright manufactured—by terrorists on the ground.

The outrage only intensified.

The New York Times ran a harrowing image of an emaciated child, skin stretched tight over bones, held by his mother. His spine protruded like ridges through his leathery skin.

It was made to look like a healthy baby had been reduced to skin and bones by deliberate starvation.

If the fire of outrage was burning before, it was now a raging inferno.

The Problem: It Was a Lie

The only problem? It wasn’t true.

The New York Times eventually issued a correction. The child suffered from a severe pre-existing condition affecting his brain and muscle development—not famine. But the damage was done. The image had already done its work.

In reality, the widespread famine narrative never stood up to scrutiny. Yes, there were pockets of genuine hunger amid the chaos of war. But Gaza was no Yemen or Sudan. Videos posted by Palestinians themselves told a different story: markets with goods, people who didn’t look starved. Israel let the aid in. The failure happened inside.

The UN and its partners rejected armed IDF escorts to preserve “neutrality.” Without protection, the trucks were sitting ducks. Hamas, gangs, and desperate crowds looted them relentlessly. Between May 19 and August 5, of 2,604 aid trucks collected by the UN after crossing the border, 2,309 never reached their destinations. That’s well over 80 percent. An insane number.

Piles of food and supplies were sometimes left rotting in the sun near crossings like Kerem Shalom—aid Israel had approved, but which never moved forward.

Much of what was stolen resurfaced in black markets at exorbitant prices. Another Hamas tool for control and profit. Distribution was always the choke point. It ended up in the wrong hands.

Even during the worst of it, Hamas fighters uploaded videos of themselves gorging while others went hungry. There was hunger, yes—but not for lack of food entering Gaza. It was easier to blame Israel than confront the thieving terrorists.

The Rot Runs Deep

The West has been lied to. Young people have been emotionally tricked into supporting movements that would rip them apart in the same way those on October 7th were. They were manipulated by social media, the pressure to fit in, the desire to be on the “right side of history”—all turbo-charged by once-trusted entities like the UN and charities such as Amnesty International. These organizations, through complicity or silence, have fed young people into an anti-West narrative soaked in Israel hatred.

From corrupt UN rapporteurs with insidious agendas—denying the mass rapes of October 7, siding with Hamas, or receiving money from hostile forces like China—to charities declaring “genocide” without legal authority, the pattern is unmistakable.

This conflict is fraught with lies, half-truths, and distortions like nothing I’ve ever seen. Lies spread across the world in moments, while the truth is buried in the aftermath. It’s jarring to watch trusted institutions participate in the disinformation.

Everything used as a slanderous lie against Israel is slowly being revealed. This gaping, festering wound of falsehoods is finally getting its band-aid peeled off. Underneath, we see raw Jew hatred and a broken, compromised system geared to protect terrorists who love death and destruction. A bent system that grotesquely twists itself to villainies Western democracies while turning a blind eye to barbaric, anti-human Islamist entities like Hamas.

During the same frenzy, videos emerged of Israeli hostages held by Hamas—emaciated, skeletal figures forced to dig in tunnels or shown wasting away in captivity. These were people who actually looked starved, deliberately malnourished by their captors. The hypocrisy was glaring: genuine starvation of hostages (used as human shields and bargaining chips) barely registered compared to the manufactured outrage over Gaza.

Israel even tried to cut through the choke point by collaborating with the U.S. on the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation (GHF)—a mechanism designed to deliver aid more directly to civilians and bypass Hamas control. Some Palestinians reportedly said it was the first time they actually received food without having to pay for it. Yet many so-called humanitarians and media outlets seemed more upset about Israel helping get aid to Gazans without Hamas skimming it than they were about the actual theft and diversion.

This wasn’t the action of a party trying to destroy a people. It was an attempt to feed them—something the narrative machine simply couldn’t tolerate.

The true scale of the rot will gradually be exposed as time goes on. And when it is, the real indictment won’t just be on Hamas—it will be on every institution that enabled the lies while real people suffered.

When I first heard the news, I was taken aback—and frankly, really sad. I haven’t followed his career for very long, but I became an admirer when I saw how firmly he stood up for the Iranian people. He was one of the few politicians who truly understood the horror of the Islamic regime and its brutal treatment of Iranians. He spoke highly of Reza Pahlavi, the Crown Prince, whom the majority of anti-regime Iranians have chosen as the leader of their revolution.

For a high-ranking American official to recognize someone like Reza Pahlavi was a breath of fresh air. It made the Iranian people feel seen and heard. They truly loved Graham and affectionately called him “Uncle Lindsey.” There’s an iconic image of him holding up the Lion and Sun flag at the Global Day of Freedom, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of Iranians desperate for a free Iran.

A True Neocon: Peace Through Strength

The Senator was what you would call a true neocon. He believed in confronting terror with strength—peace through strength, as some have dubbed it.

I understand the criticism of this worldview, especially in a post-Iraq world. But I believe much of America—on both the Right and the Left—came away from that war, which devolved into a quagmire, with entirely the wrong lesson. Some now preach strict non-intervention as the answer. In my opinion, that stance conflicts with reality. Just because you choose not to act doesn’t mean the enemies of the West will sit idle. They will fill any void an isolationist America leaves behind. It’s a luxury belief held by those who benefit from America’s current superpower status. In truth, it puts America—and the broader West—at greater risk.

The real lesson from Iraq is that precision intervention can and should be used when necessary to safeguard American interests. Hostile forces around the world are foaming at the mouth to fracture and destroy U.S. superpower status. I believe that would be catastrophic for the world. The last thing we need is for China, Russia, or the myriad of terrorist groups to gain a monopoly on power and enforce their will globally.

A clear example is the Islamic regime’s attempts to control international waters. It has been—and should remain—America that guarantees safe passage for international shipping. That’s one of the key reasons the West has prospered since World War II.

Lindsey Graham believed this passionately. He was a hawk on Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. He understood something many seem to have forgotten: Russia is an enemy of the West and of America. The Kremlin is well known for sowing division and chaos, exploiting cultural cracks through bot farms and influence campaigns.

He was equally hawkish on Iran. He grasped the destabilizing nature of the Islamic regime—not just in the Middle East, but across the globe. He knew the regime had declared war on America 47 years ago: a death-cult entity that routinely executes dissidents as enemies of the state and “enemies of god.”

Any “god” that demands such barbarity doesn’t deserve the capital G, in my view.

Standing Firm in Trump’s Corner

Having someone like Graham in Trump’s corner—clear-eyed and resolute—was a balm for those of us who worry the President is sometimes surrounded by people with a childish, naive understanding of the world. People who fail to grasp that some ideologies cannot be reasoned with—they can only be defeated. Something JD Vance may have learned in his interactions with the Islamic regime. Hopefully.

But I doubt it.

People like the Senator were often accused of “loving war,” but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He loved the idea of destroying those who hate life, hate America, and seek to impose their will through terror. And you know what? I can respect that. In an age when hostile forces across the globe are rearing their heads, we need more people like him.

Not long after thousands of Iranians were massacred in the streets for protesting, many of us waited anxiously to see if America would answer their desperate cry for help. I, like countless others, posted constantly, pleading for Donald Trump to act—to support a people held hostage by this anti-human regime.

In that emotionally tumultuous time, when the President seemed to oscillate between action and hesitation, Lindsey Graham was a rock. Millions of Iranians (and I) clung to him for sanity.

He kept affirming that Trump would act. He went on television and called the President “Reagan Plus”—a nod to Ronald Reagan’s hawkish foreign policy. He said these things without undermining Trump. It was clear he was gently urging him toward helping the Iranian people and delivering long-overdue justice to the Islamic regime.

He brought us hope in that dark time.

It’s one thing for millions to tweet at the President. It hit differently when Lindsey Graham posted a picture of himself and Trump after a round of golf, captioned with “Reagan Plus.”

I’ll admit that after the war began, things grew less certain. The unwelcome ceasefire and the even more unwelcome MOU negotiated by the Vice President created doubts. There was pushback—even from me—when Graham seemed to support the MOU. But it later became clear he was walking a fine line: showing loyalty to the President while relying on his endorsement.

Trump is not someone you openly defy. Even so, Graham often still spoke his mind, navigating the political realities with principle.

He also stood firm in support of Ukraine against Russian aggression, even when it was unpopular in this administration. His last recorded video showed him pushing a bill in support of Ukraine. He held to his principles until the very end.

The Ugly Reaction from the Left

When news of his passing broke, I knew some prominent leftists would celebrate. I wasn’t wrong.

I was disgusted to see the likes of Ana Kasparian and Cenk Uygur of The Young Turks lap up the moment. Hours after his death, Ana tweeted “Good riddance” and said she was “glad he was gone.” Cenk posted the usual braindead slop in the same venomous vein.

This angered me on a basic human level—much like the lunatics who celebrated Charlie Kirk’s tragic death. These are the same people who portray themselves as humanitarians, obsessed with “genocide” in Gaza, yet silent about the 40,000 Iranians butchered in the streets for demanding freedom.

It’s pure hypocrisy.

There is something sinister about people like Cenk and Ana. They consistently side with terrorism. Their hatred of Israel is so intense that they’ll back the most barbaric entities if they oppose Israel and America. Ana has posted “long live the resistance” and mocked Lebanon’s president for an MOU aimed at removing Hezbollah’s occupation—a terrorist proxy of the Islamic regime that dragged Lebanon into war at Tehran’s behest. Cenk recently supported a Senate candidate with a Nazi tattoo and a shady past—Graham Platner—until fresh rape allegations surfaced, all because Platner opposed Israel. Even then, he still claimed it was some kind of “false flag” by the “Israeli lobby”.

Yet we’re supposed to believe they care only about humanity and “Medicare for All.”

What’s more baffling is their constant railing against insider trading and politicians enriching themselves “off the backs of the American people.” Lindsey Graham served in the military and spent 31 years in Congress. His net worth at death was around $1.5 million. Compare that to Democratic Congressman Ro Khanna, whose wealth reportedly ballooned from $27 million to over $230 million in just nine years.

Whether you agreed with Lindsey Graham or not, he was above reproach on personal integrity. A man who loved his work and did what he believed was best for America.

Ana and Cenk are horrible human beings.

Charlie Kirk once said, “You can tell a lot about people by how they react when someone dies.” That’s especially true when the deceased is a fellow citizen who served his country for more than half his life.

A Lasting Legacy

I wrote this piece to honour the Senator. I honour his steadfastness. I honour his service. I thank him for standing on the side of life—for supporting Israel, the Iranian people, and the Ukrainians.

His legacy will age like fine wine as time passes and good triumphs over evil.

Rest in Peace, Lindsey Graham.

May your memory be blessed.

We seem to judge Western civilisation differently from every other civilisation.

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying the West shouldn’t be criticised. It should. Like every civilisation before it, the West has committed terrible acts throughout its history. Empires have conquered. Nations have oppressed. Innocent people have suffered. That is the story of humanity, not of one particular civilisation.

What I find curious is something else.

Why do we seem to judge the West by a different standard?

When we talk about Western history, we rightly demand honesty. We expect it to confront slavery, colonialism, racism and every other dark chapter in its past. We expect its mistakes to be taught in schools, debated in public and remembered for generations.

But why do we expect so much less of everyone else?

Why is it that the civilisation most willing to expose its own failures often finds itself under the greatest moral suspicion, while many societies that have never seriously confronted their own histories seem to escape the same level of scrutiny?

The West doesn’t simply tolerate criticism.

It preserves it.

Walk into almost any major museum in Europe and you’ll find exhibitions dedicated to colonialism, slavery, antisemitism or war. Open a history textbook and you’ll find entire chapters devoted to the darkest moments in Western history. Turn on the television and you’ll find documentaries, debates and investigations examining the failures of Western governments and institutions.

When you stop and think about it, that’s actually quite remarkable.

The West has built societies where people are free to criticise their own civilisation—often more harshly than anyone else ever could. It publishes books questioning its own history, opens its archives, allows journalists to investigate those in power and teaches its children about the worst things it has ever done.

History suggests that this is far from normal. Many societies have responded to uncomfortable truths very differently. Some denied them. Others buried them. Many simply carried on as though nothing had happened. The West, by contrast, gradually developed a culture in which examining its own failures became an expectation. Looking honestly in the mirror became one of its defining characteristics.

Could that be part of the reason we perceive the West so differently?

Could it be that we know more about the failures of Western civilisation simply because Western civilisation has spent so much time exposing them?

The West actually preserves the evidence against itself.

The Other Half of the Story

Take slavery as an example.

Few institutions have left a darker stain on human history. For centuries, millions of people were bought, sold and treated as property. It remains one of humanity’s greatest moral failures.

Yet the story we tell about slavery often begins surprisingly late.

For many people, it begins with European ships arriving on the west coast of Africa and transporting enslaved Africans across the Atlantic. That story is true. But it isn’t where the story begins.

Long before Europeans became involved, slavery was already deeply embedded in many parts of Africa. Rival kingdoms and tribes enslaved prisoners taken in war and sold them through established trading networks. European demand undoubtedly expanded that system, but it did not create it.

Nor was Africa unique.

Slavery was one of humanity’s oldest institutions. It existed across Europe, Africa, the Middle East and Asia. For most of recorded history, it was not regarded as a moral outrage. It was regarded as a normal part of civilisation.

That changes the picture.

Slavery was not a uniquely Western evil.

It was a human one.

But if slavery was so deeply woven into human history, why did it begin to disappear?

That is the part of the story we rarely stop to consider.

In Britain, a growing abolitionist movement began arguing that slavery was fundamentally immoral. Men like William Wilberforce spent decades campaigning against the slave trade, driven largely by Christian convictions about the inherent worth of every human being.

Britain eventually abolished the slave trade and later slavery itself. It then spent decades using the Royal Navy to intercept slave ships and pressure other nations to abandon the practice. Across the Atlantic, America would eventually fight a devastating civil war with slavery at its heart.

One of humanity’s oldest institutions, accepted for thousands of years across countless civilisations, was no longer simply criticised.

It was rejected.

That moral revolution changed the world.

Yet when slavery is discussed today, that transformation often occupies only a small part of the story. We remember, quite rightly, that the West participated in slavery. We spend far less time asking why the West became the civilisation that helped bring one of humanity’s oldest institutions to an end.

If one civilisation spends centuries documenting its own failures while another buries them, future generations will inevitably know more about the first than the second. Over time, transparency itself begins to distort our perception. We mistake openness for greater guilt, when in reality it often reflects a greater willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. That doesn’t make the West innocent. But it may explain why its failures occupy such a disproportionate place in our understanding of history.

When Self-Criticism Becomes Self-Contempt

Why does any of this matter?

Because the stories a civilisation tells about itself shape the way it sees itself.

Imagine growing up learning almost exclusively about the failures of your civilisation. You learn about slavery, colonialism, racism and oppression. Those things should be taught. They are part of the story.

But what if that becomes almost the entire story?

What if you hear far less about the ideas that challenged those injustices, the movements that corrected them, or the values that made those reforms possible?

You don’t inherit a balanced understanding of your civilisation.

You inherit a picture of it that is almost entirely defined by its failures.

It should hardly surprise us, then, that many young people now struggle to believe there is anything uniquely valuable about the civilisation they have inherited.

The problem isn’t that we teach the West’s failures.

The problem is that we increasingly teach them in isolation from the ideas and institutions that made the West capable of recognising those failures in the first place.

Self-criticism is one of the West’s greatest strengths. A civilisation that cannot examine itself cannot improve.

But when criticism becomes detached from the story of self-correction, it slowly becomes something else.

It becomes self-contempt.

There is an important difference between believing your civilisation should become better and believing it deserves to disappear.

I worry that we are beginning to lose sight of that distinction.

A Civilisation Without Confidence

That change in attitude doesn’t remain in classrooms or history books.

Ideas have consequences.

A civilisation that no longer believes there is anything uniquely valuable about itself will eventually struggle to explain why its culture should be preserved, why its values should be defended or why newcomers should be expected to adopt them.

That is one of the reasons immigration has become such a difficult conversation across much of the Western world.

For years, slogans like “diversity is our strength” were presented as self-evident truths. Diversity can indeed be a strength. Diversity of ideas, backgrounds and experiences often is. But diversity is not a magic ingredient that automatically strengthens every society, regardless of the cultures, values and beliefs involved.

Successful societies depend on more than diversity.

They depend on trust.

They depend on shared values.

And they depend on enough people believing that those values are worth preserving.

That is why integration matters.

Integration is not simply about learning a language or finding a job. It is about joining a shared civic culture. But that becomes remarkably difficult when the host society itself has become uncertain about what that culture is—or whether it is even appropriate to expect others to embrace it.

Across Europe, we are beginning to see the consequences.

France has warned about the long-term influence of the Muslim Brotherhood on national cohesion. Sweden continues to grapple with unprecedented gang violence. Britain is still reckoning with the failures that allowed the grooming gang scandals to continue for years. Even countries like Finland, where I now live, are beginning to ask questions that would once have been dismissed as alarmist.

These are different countries with different histories and different challenges.

But they are increasingly wrestling with the same underlying question.

What does it actually mean to become part of our society?

That question becomes remarkably difficult to answer once a civilisation loses confidence in itself.

None of this has happened in isolation.

A civilisation that loses confidence in itself inevitably becomes more vulnerable to those who would like to see it weakened.

That should not surprise us.

Throughout history, rival powers have always looked for weaknesses in their competitors. Sometimes those weaknesses were military. Sometimes they were economic. Increasingly, they are cultural.

Russia has become adept at exploiting political and cultural divisions within Western societies. China invests heavily in shaping international narratives while tightly controlling discussion within its own borders. Qatar has poured vast sums of money into Western schools and universities, extending its influence into institutions responsible for educating future generations.

None of these countries are doing anything unusual.

They are pursuing what they believe to be their own national interests.

The more important question is why those efforts have become increasingly effective.

Hostile influence rarely creates divisions from nothing.

It amplifies divisions that already exist.

Propaganda is most effective when it has something to attach itself to. A society that has become deeply uncertain about its own history, identity and values presents fertile ground for anyone seeking to deepen those doubts.

That is why I do not believe this story is ultimately about Russia, China or Qatar.

It is about us.

Our rivals did not invent the cracks.

They simply noticed them.

There Must Be Something Worth Preserving

Perhaps this is why I find the current mood in the West so unsettling.

I grew up in South Africa.

I know what it looks like when trust between people begins to erode. I know what happens when crime becomes normal, when communities retreat into themselves, and when people slowly stop believing that tomorrow will be better than today.

Too many people in Europe and North America speak as though peace, prosperity and social trust are the natural state of human affairs. They are not.

They are achievements.

They were built over centuries, fought for, protected by generations before us, and sustained by ideas and institutions that too many of us now take for granted.

Civilisations are far easier to inherit than they are to build.

They are easier to dismantle than they are to restore.

The purpose of understanding history is not to flatter ourselves.

It is to understand ourselves.

The West should continue examining its failures honestly. Its capacity for self-criticism remains one of its greatest strengths. A civilisation that cannot examine itself cannot improve.

But honesty demands that we tell the whole story.

We should remember not only the West’s failures, but also the ideas and institutions that enabled it to confront those failures. That story did not end with abolition, nor does it belong only to history.

Even today, the West continues to host its own criticism. Journalists investigate those in power, governments are challenged in court, citizens openly protest their leaders and elections allow governments to be removed without violence. People are free to change their religion, criticise their own country and question those in authority in ways that remain impossible in many parts of the world.

These freedoms have become so ordinary to many of us that we barely notice them. Yet millions of people can only dream of living in societies where such things are possible.

The West remains imperfect. It always will. But its imperfections are not evidence of a civilisation beyond saving. They are evidence of a civilisation still capable of recognising its failures and striving to correct them.

That tradition is worth preserving.

Because a civilisation can only preserve itself if its people still believe there is something worth preserving.

Mine would be simple.

Get as many innocent people out of harm’s way as possible.

Preserve life first. Argue about politics later.

That is, after all, what humanitarianism is supposed to mean. Before questions of borders, history or blame comes a more fundamental principle: protect human life wherever possible. Everything else is secondary.

Yet throughout the war in Gaza, something kept nagging at me.

The moment proposals were made to allow civilians to leave the fighting—even temporarily—many of the loudest voices in the pro-Palestine movement objected. Suggestions that Egypt open its border were dismissed. Humanitarian corridors became politically contentious. Even Israeli-designated safe zones were often treated with suspicion rather than cautious support.

The contradiction was difficult to ignore.

If the overriding concern was preserving Palestinian life, why did so many activists seem more interested in ensuring civilians remained inside an active war zone?

That question stayed with me.

Eventually, it led me to a much bigger one.

What exactly is the Free Palestine movement trying to achieve?

A Moral Test

The war in Gaza did not create this question. It merely forced it into the open.

The catalyst, of course, was October 7.

On that morning, Hamas terrorists breached Israel’s border from Gaza. Some civilians followed behind them. Together, they unleashed one of the most grotesque displays of barbarism caught on film. Men, women and children were butchered. Families were torn apart. People were burned alive. Women were raped. Hostages—including the elderly and young children—were dragged back into Gaza.

Much of it was filmed by the perpetrators themselves.

These were not crimes committed in secret like the Nazis did against the Jews. They were recorded, celebrated and distributed as psychological warfare. The point was not simply to kill. It was to terrorise. To humiliate. To leave an entire nation psychologically scarred.

There is something particularly revealing about violence that takes pleasure in its own spectacle. Territorial disputes can explain why people fight. They cannot explain why people delight in torture, humiliation and desecration. October 7 felt less like an attempt to win a military victory than a celebration of cruelty itself.

It was, in every sense, a moral test—not only for Israel, but for the rest of the world.

Moments like these have a way of exposing the principles that actually guide us. They strip away slogans and reveal what we instinctively reward, condemn or excuse when confronted with evil.

To some, however, October 7 was not a day of horror.

It was a beautiful day.

When a Country Becomes a Symbol

What happened next was almost as revealing as the massacre itself.

Before Israel had even begun its military response, demonstrations were already erupting across Western cities. While families were still searching for missing relatives and hostages were being dragged into Gaza, thousands gathered to denounce Israel. Images of kidnapped civilians were torn down or defaced. Chants of “From the river to the sea” echoed through city centres from London to Helsinki, New York to Sydney.

The speed of it all was striking.

There seemed to be very little interest in pausing to understand what had happened, or why. The atrocities of October 7 were not treated as an event demanding moral clarity. They were almost immediately absorbed into an existing narrative in which Israel was already guilty, regardless of what had preceded it.

Over time, I realised this was because Israel was no longer being treated as an ordinary nation.

It had become a symbol.

Not simply a country that could make good decisions or bad ones, but a vessel into which every grievance of the modern activist imagination could be poured. Colonialism. Racism. White supremacy. Apartheid. Imperialism. Genocide. Capitalism. American power. Somehow, all of it converged on one tiny Jewish state.

That helps explain why so many contradictory accusations can coexist without causing much discomfort. Israel is condemned as both a colonial outpost and a foreign occupier, despite the Jewish people’s historical roots in the land. It is portrayed as uniquely expansionist, despite repeatedly exchanging territory for peace. It is accused of genocide while responding to an organisation whose own stated objective is the destruction of the Jewish state. The individual claims are almost secondary. Their purpose is not to describe Israel accurately, but to reinforce what Israel has come to represent.

Once a country becomes a symbol, facts begin to matter less than the role it plays in the story.

Everything is interpreted through that lens. Every action becomes further proof of its guilt. Every piece of contrary evidence is dismissed as propaganda. Nuance itself begins to look like complicity.

That is why conversations about Israel so often feel impossible.

You are no longer discussing a country.

You are challenging an article of faith.

The Humanitarian Test

One of the easiest ways to understand a movement is not by listening to what it says, but by watching what it rewards and what it condemns.

That is especially true of movements that claim the moral high ground.

If humanitarianism is truly the organising principle, then preserving innocent life must come before everything else. Before politics. Before military victory. Before assigning blame.

That principle seems so obvious that it hardly feels worth stating.

And yet, throughout the war in Gaza, it was repeatedly abandoned.

Whenever the possibility of moving civilians out of the fighting was raised, many of the same activists who insisted a genocide was unfolding reacted with outrage. Suggestions that Egypt temporarily open its border were denounced. The idea of neighbouring countries accepting refugees was dismissed as complicity. Even temporary evacuations were portrayed by many as morally unacceptable.

This struck me as extraordinary.

Every major war creates refugees. Ukrainians fled Ukraine. Syrians fled Syria. Millions have crossed borders throughout history in search of safety, often with the hope of returning home once the fighting ends. No one imagines that seeking temporary refuge somehow erases a people’s identity or permanently settles the political questions that caused the war.

Why, then, was Gaza treated differently?

If people genuinely believed civilians were facing extermination, one might expect every available avenue of escape to be welcomed, however imperfect. Humanitarianism demands difficult choices. It does not demand that innocent people remain trapped in an active war zone while political arguments are settled around them.

Instead, something else seemed to take priority.

Protecting the narrative had become more important than protecting the people.

It was around this point that I realised my disagreement with the movement wasn’t primarily about Israel at all.

It was about humanitarianism.

The movement spoke constantly about Palestinian lives, yet again and again seemed willing to subordinate those lives to a political objective. Every civilian death became evidence against Israel. Every proposal that might reduce civilian suffering was treated with suspicion if it complicated the broader narrative.

Gradually, a pattern became impossible for me to ignore.

The movement appeared more committed to condemning Israel than to preserving Palestinian life.

That is an uncomfortable conclusion to reach.

Because if it is true, then the movement is not simply mistaken about Israel.

It has become something fundamentally different from what it claims to be.

Beyond Palestine

If humanitarian concern were the movement’s organising principle, we would expect to see the same moral urgency wherever comparable human suffering exists.

But that is not what we see.

The civil war in Sudan has produced one of the worst humanitarian catastrophes of the twenty-first century. Hundreds of thousands have been killed. Millions have been displaced. Entire communities have been destroyed. Famine continues to threaten vast sections of the population.

Yemen tells a similar story. Years of war have left millions facing starvation, disease and displacement. The scale of human suffering is almost impossible to comprehend.

Yet these crises occupy remarkably little space in Western activism.

There are no weekly marches that bring entire city centres to a standstill. University campuses are not consumed by encampments demanding action. Social media feeds are not dominated by Sudanese or Yemeni flags. Few people organise their political identity around these conflicts.

That disparity deserves an explanation.

The disparity cannot be explained by the scale of suffering. If anything, the comparison only deepens the mystery. Sudan and Yemen have witnessed humanitarian catastrophes on a far greater scale than Gaza, yet they have inspired nothing remotely close to the same moral outrage in the West.

Media coverage undoubtedly plays a role, but it cannot fully explain a disparity of this magnitude.

The question, then, is not why people care about Palestinians.

The question is why this conflict commands a level of moral obsession that humanitarian catastrophes of an even greater magnitude do not.For me, this was the point at which the movement’s priorities became impossible to ignore.

The simplest explanation was no longer that it was primarily motivated by concern for Palestinians.

It was that opposition to Israel had become far more important than caring for Palestinians.

Once that possibility occurred to me, many of the movement’s contradictions stopped looking like contradictions at all.

They became exactly what one would expect.

When Humanitarianism Becomes Ideology

Looking back, I no longer think the modern Free Palestine movement can be understood simply as a humanitarian campaign.

Humanitarian movements organise themselves around people. Their instinct is to reduce suffering wherever they find it, even when doing so requires uncomfortable compromises. They do not ask whether the people in need are politically useful. They ask how their suffering can be alleviated.

Ideological movements operate differently.

They divide the world into moral categories: oppressor and oppressed, coloniser and colonised, victim and victimiser. Once those roles have been assigned, every event is interpreted through that framework. Facts that reinforce the narrative are amplified. Facts that complicate it are ignored, excused or reinterpreted until they fit.

Viewed through that lens, much of the movement begins to make sense.

Israel is no longer treated as one nation among many. It has become the embodiment of everything the movement believes is wrong with the modern West: colonialism, capitalism, American power, racism and oppression. Palestinians, meanwhile, cease to be people with agency, complexity and competing political visions. They become symbols themselves—the permanent victims in a moral drama that has already been written.

Once those symbolic roles are fixed, reality becomes incredibly difficult to accommodate.

Calls for peace become suspect if they leave Israel standing. Hamas’ brutality becomes something to explain rather than confront. The suffering inflicted upon Palestinians by their own leaders receives comparatively little attention, while every Israeli action is treated as further confirmation of an already settled verdict.

The movement itself has become something of a Frankenstein’s monster—a coalition of ideologies and activist causes that often have little in common beyond a shared hostility towards Israel and, more broadly, the West. Under ordinary circumstances, many of these groups would regard one another as ideological opponents. Yet the hate towards Israel has become powerful enough to suspend contradictions that would otherwise seem irreconcilable.

Marxists march alongside Islamists. Secular progressives defend movements whose values they reject almost everywhere else. Feminists excuse organisations that severely restrict women’s freedoms. LGBT activists rally behind movements that have imprisoned, tortured and even killed people for being gay.

Viewed in isolation, these alliances appear bewildering.

In reality however, the coalition does not exist because its members share a coherent vision of the future. It exists because they have found a common enemy in the present.

Israel.

Once I reached that conclusion, I found myself looking back at everything else through a different lens.

The response to October 7.

The opposition to civilian evacuation.

The indifference towards Sudan and Yemen (and other conflicts).

The obsessive need to cast Israel as the singular source of injustice in the modern world.

None of it seemed contradictory anymore. It all pointed in the same direction.

Conclusion

Humanitarianism is one of the noblest instincts we possess.

It asks us to see human beings before politics, before ideology and before tribal loyalties. It insists that innocent life has value regardless of who that life belongs to.

The moment those priorities are reversed, something fundamental changes.

People cease to be ends in themselves and become instruments in a political struggle. Their suffering becomes useful. Their deaths become symbolic. Their lives matter only insofar as they advance the cause.

That is why I no longer believe the modern Free Palestine movement is fundamentally humanitarian.

Because somewhere along the way, Palestinians themselves stopped being the point.

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“There will be no deal with the Islamic Republic except UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER.”

What struck me was the clarity of it. It reflected an understanding that has become increasingly rare in the Western world: there are some forces that cannot be reasoned with because their ideology depends upon perpetual conflict. They do not seek peaceful coexistence. They seek victory. The question, then, is whether we have the courage to seek it too.

If there were a button I could press that would instantly bring genuine peace to the Middle East without another missile being launched or another life being lost, I would press it without hesitation. I suspect almost every decent person would. Nobody with a functioning conscience celebrates war for its own sake. War is tragic. It leaves behind broken families, shattered cities and generations forced to carry scars they never asked for.

Unfortunately, there is no such button.

Peace generally refers to a state of harmony and freedom from hostility, violence or mental disturbance. It is one of humanity’s highest aspirations. Yet somewhere along the way, we have begun confusing peace with the mere absence of fighting. We celebrate ceasefires before asking whether they actually resolve the conflict. We praise diplomatic agreements simply because they postpone violence. We convince ourselves that if the guns fall silent for long enough, peace has somehow arrived.

But that is not peace.

Peace is not secured simply because two sides stop shooting at one another. History shows that lasting peace is achieved when the ideology driving the conflict is defeated so decisively that it loses the ability to impose itself through violence. A ceasefire may postpone a war. A negotiated settlement may pause it. But neither necessarily ends it. The question is not whether the fighting has stopped. The question is whether the cause of the fighting still exists.

The Middle East offers a painful illustration of this reality.

The Islamic regime occupying Iran has spent decades exporting its revolutionary ideology across the region while holding the Iranian people hostage inside their own country. Millions of Iranians have risked everything to reclaim their nation, only to be imprisoned, tortured or killed for demanding the very freedoms many of us take for granted. At the same time, the regime continues to arm and finance proxies whose purpose extends far beyond defending its interests. Their mission is ideological.

Hezbollah has turned large parts of Lebanon into a battlefield from which it can wage war against Israel while simultaneously holding the Lebanese people hostage to a conflict many of them do not want. Hamas remains committed to the destruction of Israel and refuses to disarm, despite repeated opportunities to do so. Even now, after so much devastation in Gaza, its leadership remains more committed to its revolutionary cause than to the welfare of the people it claims to represent.

These are not isolated conflicts unfolding independently of one another. They are different fronts in the same ideological struggle, fuelled by a revolutionary movement that has spent decades spreading instability throughout the region.

That is why I find myself increasingly frustrated whenever I hear people say, “Pray for peace.”

I understand the sentiment. I genuinely do. It comes from a good place. But good intentions are not enough if they are built upon a misunderstanding of how peace is actually achieved.

For many people, peace has become synonymous with ending the fighting. Secure another ceasefire. Sign another agreement. Return everyone to the negotiating table. Yet history repeatedly shows that when an ideology is fundamentally committed to conquest, terrorism or perpetual revolution, negotiations alone cannot resolve the problem. At best, they delay it. At worst, they give those committed to violence the time and space to regroup.

What Is Peace?

That is why I believe we should be praying for something else entirely.

Not for peace.

For victory.

That statement will undoubtedly make some people uncomfortable. It sounds too militant. Too uncompromising. In an age where every conflict is expected to end around a negotiating table, calling for victory can almost sound primitive. Yet history tells us that some of the greatest periods of peace have only been achieved after those committed to conquest were decisively defeated.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve watched a number of prominent voices urge people to “pray for peace.” Many of them come from the isolationist wing of the American Right. Interestingly, they often find themselves echoing the same instinct as those on the far Left. Although they arrive there by different routes, both seem to share the belief that war is largely self-inflicted; that if the United States and the wider Western world simply withdrew from international conflicts, the conflicts themselves would somehow fade away.

I find that view profoundly detached from reality.

It assumes that conflict exists because the West chooses to participate in it, rather than because there are movements whose ambitions exist entirely independently of the West’s wishes. The Islamic regime occupying Iran did not spend the last four decades building a revolutionary network throughout the Middle East because America provoked it into doing so. Hamas did not massacre civilians on October 7th because Western governments failed to negotiate hard enough. Hezbollah did not accumulate an arsenal capable of holding Lebanon hostage because Israel refused to compromise.

These organisations possess agency. They make choices. They pursue objectives that they openly declare to the world.

One of the strangest habits of modern political discourse is that we often take ideologies less seriously than the people who actually believe them.

When the leaders of the Islamic regime chant “Death to America,” call Israel a cancer that must be eradicated, and repeatedly promise the destruction of both, we are told not to take the rhetoric too literally. When Hamas explicitly states that its struggle will continue until Israel ceases to exist, many still insist that the organisation’s goals are ultimately negotiable. We convince ourselves that enough diplomacy, enough economic incentives or enough carefully crafted agreements will eventually persuade these movements to abandon the very ideas upon which they were founded.

Why?

History gives us remarkably little reason to believe that revolutionary ideologies simply moderate themselves when confronted with goodwill.

Instead, history teaches precisely the opposite. It shows us that movements built upon conquest tend to interpret concessions not as acts of generosity, but as evidence that their opponents lack the will to resist. They do not see compromise as the beginning of peace. They see it as an opportunity to regroup before continuing the struggle.

That is precisely why so many of us looked at the Memorandum of Understanding between the United States and the Islamic regime with deep scepticism.

We were immediately accused of wanting war. Of being “neocons.” Of preferring bombs to diplomacy.

But that criticism fundamentally misunderstands the objection.

The objection is not that we dislike peace. The objection is that we do not believe this is peace.

There is a profound difference between ending a war and ending the ideology that started it. As long as the Islamic regime retains the ability to rebuild its military, finance its proxies and continue exporting its revolutionary vision across the Middle East, the underlying conflict has not been resolved. It has merely been postponed.

That is not peace.

It is an intermission.

The Lesson of History

History has already shown us where the logic of appeasement leads.

In 1938, British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain travelled to Munich to negotiate with Adolf Hitler. The agreement that followed allowed Nazi Germany to annex the Sudetenland, a region of Czechoslovakia, in exchange for Hitler’s promise that he had no further territorial ambitions. Upon returning to Britain, Chamberlain famously declared that he had secured “peace for our time.”

It has become one of the most famous misjudgements in modern history.

The problem was not that Chamberlain desired peace. Every decent leader should desire peace. The problem was that he fundamentally misunderstood the nature of the regime with which he was negotiating.

Hitler did not seek peaceful coexistence with his neighbours. His ideology demanded expansion. It demanded conquest. It demanded domination. To believe that one concession would satisfy those ambitions was to misunderstand the ideology itself.

Hitler was not appeased.

He was emboldened.

Every concession reinforced his belief that the democracies of Europe lacked both the confidence and the resolve to stop him. Six months later, Nazi Germany invaded Poland, plunging Europe into the deadliest war in human history.

It is worth asking a difficult question.

How was peace ultimately restored to Europe?

It was not restored because Hitler experienced a change of heart. It was not restored because another agreement was signed or because another diplomatic summit was convened. Peace returned only after the Allies decisively defeated the Axis powers and dismantled the machinery that had driven the war in the first place.

The cost was unimaginably high. Millions died. Entire cities were reduced to rubble. Families were scattered across continents. There is nothing glorious about war.

But there is also nothing peaceful about allowing an expansionist ideology to continue unchecked.

Iran Belongs to the Iranian People

That lesson matters just as much today as it did then.

The Islamic regime occupying Iran has spent nearly half a century building a network of proxies designed to export its revolution throughout the Middle East. Hezbollah in Lebanon, Hamas in Gaza, the Houthis in Yemen and countless militias across Iraq and Syria are not isolated movements pursuing unrelated objectives. They form part of a broader revolutionary project that has brought misery not only to Israelis, but also to Lebanese, Syrians, Iraqis, Yemenis and, above all, to the Iranian people themselves.

The greatest victims of the Islamic regime have always been the people of Iran.

For decades, millions of courageous Iranians have risked imprisonment, torture and death in pursuit of something most of us scarcely have to think about: the right to choose their own government, to speak freely, to worship freely, to allow women to live as equal citizens, and to build a future without fear.

Time and again, they have poured into the streets believing that this might finally be the moment their country is returned to them.

Time and again, they have been met with bullets.

It is one of the cruellest ironies of modern politics that so many people in the West claim to stand with the Iranian people while simultaneously advocating policies that would leave the very regime oppressing them intact.

The people of Iran do not need another agreement that allows their oppressors to rebuild.

They need the conditions that make liberation possible. That does not mean outsiders should decide Iran’s future. Quite the opposite.

Iran belongs to the Iranian people. It always has.

But before a nation can reclaim itself, the machinery of repression that keeps it enslaved must first be weakened to the point where ordinary people have a genuine opportunity to rise.

That is not a rejection of peace. It is the necessary precondition for achieving it.

Lebanon and the Path to Peace

If the argument I’ve made so far sounds too theoretical, Lebanon offers a glimpse of what it looks like in practice.

For years, Hezbollah has held Lebanon hostage. It transformed large parts of the country into a launching pad for its war against Israel while dragging the Lebanese people into conflicts many of them never chose. As long as Hezbollah remained overwhelmingly powerful, there was little room for genuine peace. No Lebanese government could meaningfully challenge it, and no serious conversation about the future of the country could take place.

That has begun to change.

After nearly two years of sustained military pressure, Israel has severely degraded Hezbollah’s capabilities. Its leadership has been decimated. Its command structure disrupted. Its aura of invincibility shattered.

Something remarkable has happened as a result.

Many Lebanese, who for years were too frightened to openly confront Hezbollah, have begun finding the courage to do exactly that. Conversations that once seemed impossible are now taking place. Cooperation between Lebanon and Israel, however limited it may currently be, is no longer unthinkable.

That is not because everybody suddenly likes one another.

It is because the greatest obstacle to peace has been weakened.

There is still a long road ahead. Hezbollah must ultimately be disarmed if Lebanon is ever to become a fully sovereign nation. But for the first time in years, genuine peace feels like a realistic possibility.

Not because somebody negotiated a better agreement with Hezbollah.

Because Hezbollah is losing.

Peace Is Worth Fighting For

People will inevitably accuse those of us who hold this view of wanting endless war.

They have it backwards. We want the forever wars to end.

Not for six months.

Not until the next ceasefire collapses.

Not until the next terrorist army rearms.

We want them to end once and for all.

That is why so many of us looked at President Trump’s call for “UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER” and saw something far more significant than a political slogan. We saw moral clarity. We saw an understanding that there are some ideologies which cannot be accommodated because they leave no room for peaceful coexistence. They seek domination, not compromise. They do not interpret restraint as goodwill, but as weakness.

Peace is one of humanity’s highest aspirations. It always has been. It is the foundation upon which families are built, societies flourish and ordinary people are free to pursue meaningful lives. Precisely because peace is so precious, we should be careful not to confuse it with surrender, appeasement or temporary pauses in violence.

So no, I will not pray for a pause in the fighting if all it accomplishes is postponing the next war.

I will pray for the kind of victory that makes peace possible.

Because genuine peace has never been the absence of conflict.

It has always been the defeat of those committed to perpetual conflict.

The operation brought the entire regime to its knees. The people of Iran—who are very different from the people in charge—were full of hope. Hope that their 47-year nightmare of being ruled over by these religious lunatics might finally be over.

For Israel, the fall of this regime would have meant peace like they’ve never had before. The head of the snake—the one that funds terrorist groups like Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis—would finally be gone. The threat of being fired upon by thousands of ballistic missiles would be gone.

For America, getting rid of this regime would right a wrong they played a hand in creating 47 years ago. It would remove the possibility of one day having to face a nuclear-powered Islamic regime that could effectively end the United States’ ability to influence that region. A nuclear-powered regime that chants “Death to America” would be catastrophic.

This was, and still is, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to change the world forever. To bring real peace to the Middle East. To change the geopolitical landscape against terrorism, barbarism, and the forces that want to destroy the West.

Victory Was Within Reach

America should have stood firm alongside Israel and continued to degrade this regime until the conditions existed for the people to rise up and take their country back, just as Donald Trump promised. But that promise remains unfulfilled.

Unfortunately, where we stand today, it looks like America has all but surrendered to the Islamic regime—for no reason at all.

To add insult to injury, Israel is currently being restrained from finishing the job against Hezbollah, the regimes proxy based in Lebanon, that has been firing missiles and drones at Israeli communities since October 7th.

They are being restrained by America because the Islamic regime demands it.And how do they have the leverage to demand such a thing?
Because Donald Trump is so desperate to sign a “peace deal” that he seems willing to give them whatever they want.

Having said that, there is a giant BUT in all of this.

The situation is incredibly fluid and evolving constantly. At times, it looks like there’s a bigger plan at play. Other times, it looks like there is no plan at all. A single Trump tweet can completely change how you’re analysing the situation.
Right now, things look depressing. However, by the time this essay is published, the situation may have changed completely.

So how did we get here, and is there any hope?

The Shah's Fall Changed the Middle East

The most important thing to know about Iran is this:

The regime in power—the Islamic regime, as I will refer to them—does not represent the people. They are a brutal theocratic entity that has subjugated the Iranian people for 47 years. The people themselves view this regime as an occupying force. The people are Iran. Not the lunatics in charge.

Iran wasn’t always the way we know it today.

There was a time, under the Shah, when the country was rapidly modernising. In many ways, it looked and felt like other Western countries. Women were finally allowed to vote, study, and pursue careers. The country was Westernising in many different ways.
All you need to do is look at the pictures from that time. You will be shocked by just how different it was.

Of course, all of this came crumbling down with the fall of the Shah.

Leftists, communists, and Islamists came together in opposition to the monarchy. They call it the Red-Green Alliance.
There is an incredible amount of propaganda surrounding the Shah and his rule. So many lies. So many distortions. For 47 years, the Islamic regime has been poisoning the well of his memory. Luckily, some of that is beginning to be undone.

The fall of the Shah was one of the worst things to happen to the Middle East. Because the creature that took his place—Ruhollah Khomeini—not only undid all the progress that was being made, he also declared a religious war on the Western world.

One of the first things he did after taking power was execute thousands of people he viewed as ideological opponents. He also executed thousands of the leftists who had fallen for his rhetoric. He promptly stripped away the freedoms women had been given and began implementing the strictest form of Sharia law.

Millions fled.

This Regime Believes What It Says

The second most important thing you have to understand about Iran is the ideology of the Islamic regime.

They are Twelver Shia Islamists. They have an eschatological vision of the future—one that requires the world to descend into chaos before their hidden prophet is revealed. The “Little Satan” (Israel) and the “Big Satan” (America) must, at the very least, be destroyed.

However, what makes these people unique is that they believe they can help bring about this prophecy themselves. In other words, they don’t simply wait for chaos to arrive. They believe they can create it. Then, when their hidden prophet appears, a great global battle will follow—one from which they believe they will emerge victorious. After that, a global Islamic kingdom will be established on Earth.

Westerners might think this is insane. But the real question is: do they believe it? Because if they do, then it makes little difference what we think.
To answer that question, we have to look at how they act.

Inside Iran, they impose religious laws. They imprison, torture, and execute those who transgress. They are also the world’s largest state sponsor of terror. They fund death-cult-like terrorist groups such as Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis. The wealth of the country is not spent improving the lives of ordinary Iranians. It goes towards drones, ballistic missiles, and nuclear infrastructure.

Some of those missiles can already reach Europe.

At the same time, they have built nuclear facilities deep underground, where they can’t easily be reached.

Their plan was simple: build thousands and thousands of ballistic missiles. Build thousands of drones. Then, when the time is right, race towards acquiring nuclear weapons.

At that point, stopping them becomes almost impossible. The cost of doing so would simply be too great.
They would already possess the delivery systems needed to threaten almost anyone. And eventually, potentially, nuclear weapons. That is where the true danger begins. Because once they possess that capability, the entire world changes.

For the first time, nuclear weapons would be in the hands of actors who genuinely view themselves as participants in a divine struggle.

Yes, North Korea possess nuclear weapons, but they prefer isolation.
That is not true of the Islamic regime. They desire world domination.
And that should concern everyone.

Knowing how weak and soft many European leaders have become, a nuclear-powered Iran under this regime would bully the world and cause chaos on a scale we have never seen before.

Can you imagine them providing a nuclear warhead to one of their proxies?
Can you imagine them threatening Israel, Europe, or America whenever they fail to get their way?
Unlike with the Soviet Union, these lunatics don’t mind dying or sacrificing their people for this holy mission.

During the war, we got a little taste of what the world could look like if these lunatics are ever allowed to acquire truly devastating power.
The regime was attacked, and in retaliation, it launched ballistic missiles and drones at countries across the entire Middle East. The videos are truly shocking.
Missiles hitting Kuwait. Missiles and drones hitting Dubai. The fear. The chaos. The insanity.
In the future, that may be London, Berlin, or even New York. The world cannot afford such a thing.

A Nation Held Hostage

Now, for 47 years, the Iranian people have lived under a brutal regime of executions, imprisonment, and torture.

Despite what you often hear in the media, most Iranians do not support this regime. Only around 5 to 10 percent of the population actively supports it. Over the years, the people have repeatedly tried to rise up against their oppressors. And over the years, they have repeatedly been crushed.

The latest of these uprisings came in January. Millions took to the streets across the country, demanding freedom.
The protests began as a reaction to economic hardship, but they quickly evolved into something much bigger. The people began calling for the return of the Shah. More specifically, they began calling for Reza Pahlavi, the son of the last Shah.

You have to understand what that means. Calling his name in public is all but a death sentence. So imagine the desperation, the courage. Imagine how bad things must be for ordinary people to take that risk.

As always, the regime responded with violence. The protests were crushed. In the span of just a day or two, tens of thousands were killed. The lower estimate sits at around 40,000. Other estimates range as high as 80,000 to 100,000. It’s an insane number.

A few weeks later, America and Israel launched their devastating military campaign against the Islamic regime.

In the opening strikes, Israel eliminated much of the regime’s senior leadership, including Ali Khamenei, successor to Ruhollah Khomeini and Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic.

He was every bit as fanatical as his predecessor.

Every bit as dangerous.

And every bit as responsible for the suffering of the Iranian people.

After his death, the celebrations among Iranians—both in the diaspora and inside Iran itself—were unlike anything I had ever seen.
Inside Iran, those celebrations had to be far more muted, for obvious reasons. But the hope was unmistakable. For the first time in a very long time, a free Iran felt possible.

My own video celebrating with Iranians here in Finland was even featured on the White House social media for a brief moment, by the way.

The military campaign continued for roughly 39 days before Trump declared a ceasefire.
America was targeting nuclear sites and military infrastructure. Israel was targeting ballistic missile production, command structures, and the infrastructure of repression itself. The Basij, in particular—the regime’s street-level enforcers and thugs responsible for terrorising ordinary Iranians.

Israel clearly understood something that many Western leaders do not.

If you want people to rise up, you first have to weaken the machinery that will shoot them the moment they step outside their homes. You have to create the conditions for freedom. Otherwise, calls for revolution are little more than a death sentence. That is exactly what Israel appeared to be trying to do.

The Strait of Hormuz

The regime was on its back foot.

Its senior leadership had been decimated. Its military infrastructure was being degraded. It was beginning to look vulnerable.

So the regime reached for the strongest card it had left.

The Strait of Hormuz.

A narrow stretch of water through which roughly 20 percent of the world’s shipping passes. Oil. Food. Raw materials. A huge portion of global trade flows through this tiny corridor.

The regime effectively closed it.

Its navy had already been devastated, but it didn’t need much to create chaos. Small boats. Drones. Missiles. That’s all it takes to make shipping companies think twice about entering a war zone.

The result was predictable.

Oil prices began to rise. Markets became nervous. Uncertainty spread. And suddenly, the regime had leverage—seemingly. To America’s credit, it responded with something quite clever. Even during the ceasefire, America effectively blockaded the blockade.

Iranian oil shipments were forcefully restricted. Ships attempting to travel to Iran and load oil were stopped. Ships from Iran attempting to leave were stopped. At the same time, international shipping unrelated to Iran was still being facilitated through the straits with American military might.

The regime was losing billions. America was squeezing them.
Their oil pumps were in danger of getting backed up because they didn’t have many options of where to sell it. Apparently the process of unblocking backed up oil pipes is incredibly difficult once it happens.
The pressure was working. America was dominating in every way.

The Deal That Changed Everything

Then, out of nowhere, Trump started acting embarrassingly desperate for a deal.

Any deal.

A deal that would end the fighting.

Before long, a memorandum of understanding was signed between America and the Islamic regime.

From where I sit, it feels like a gigantic disaster. A self inflicted wound on epic proportions.

The agreement allows the regime to sell its oil again without sanctions (which wasn’t even allowed under the JCPOA). It opens a pathway for billions upon billions of dollars to flow back into its hands. It also attempts to restrain Israel—at the demand of the regime—from acting against Hezbollah, a terrorist group openly committed to the destruction of Israel.

The lead negotiator in all of this is JD Vance, who in my opinion is doing a horrendous job. He simply does not understand the Middle East.

At one point, he openly suggested that the regime wanted to “turn over a new leaf”.

You can’t make this stuff up.

Their entire reason for existing is hostility towards the West. It is not some misunderstanding. It is not some diplomatic dispute. It is the very foundation upon which the regime was built.

The blockade was lifted. The money started flowing again.

And just like that, the pressure that had brought the regime to its knees began to ease.
America went from having all the leverage to having very little leverage.

The goals of the war were straightforward:

• Destroy Iran’s ability to build nuclear weapons.

• Destroy or severely limit its ballistic missile capabilities.

• Force it to stop funding terrorist proxies.

• Destroy its ability to threaten international shipping.

• Create the conditions for the Iranian people to take their country back.

Of those objectives, only one appears to have been partially achieved.
Its navy was indeed destroyed.

Now, once again, the regime suffered enormous damage, and I believe America and Israel did a genuine service to the world in the short term.
However, if this regime is allowed to lie, manipulate, and negotiate its way out of the weakened position it finds itself in, we may find ourselves facing a much worse situation only a few years from now.

Peace—or a Historic Mistake?

The only real path to peace in the Middle East is the destruction of the Islamic regime and the freedom of the Iranian people. Everything else is temporary. Everything else merely delays the problem.

Now, I don’t yet know whether this war will ultimately be remembered as a victory or a failure. The situation is still unfolding. Perhaps there is a bigger strategy at work. Perhaps there are things happening behind the scenes that we cannot yet see.

I hope that’s true.

Because if things continue down their current path, history may look back on this moment as one of the greatest missed opportunities of our time. A moment when the regime was on its knees. A moment when the Iranian people could finally see freedom on the horizon. A moment when the world was given a chance to remove one of the greatest sources of instability and terrorism in the Middle East.

And then walked away.

I am not yet ready to say that America has completely fumbled it.

Not yet.

But it is certainly beginning to look that way.

The good news is that the story isn’t over. The Iranian people hate this regime more than ever. The regime itself is weaker than it has been in 47 years. And Israel remains committed to confronting a threat that it understands better than almost anyone else.

There is still time to get this right.

There is still time to finish the job.

And there is still time for America to prove me (and millions of Iranians) wrong.

One way or another, the Iranian people will be free. Whether the international community chooses to help them or not.

Thank you for reading!

I want to explain how I see the situation, and why I fully support Reza Pahlavi playing the key transitional role.

The Bigger Picture

The end of the Islamic regime is something many Iranians and supporters of the Iranian people believe is fast approaching. When that moment comes — when the revolution is truly in full swing — Iran will have to emerge intact on the other side.

History shows that revolutions are dangerous moments. They create opportunity, but they also create instability. Every revolution requires some form of clear direction if the country is going to emerge whole.

Without that, power vacuums appear. Competing factions begin fighting for influence, and the results can be devastating.

Iran cannot afford that.

Pushing separatist ideas in the middle of a revolutionary moment could cause enormous pain and bloodshed that simply does not need to happen. At a moment like this, the country needs unity and stability above all else.

Iran needs to remain intact.

Before anything else can happen politically, the country needs to stabilize.
A nation does not magically transition from dictatorship into a functioning democracy overnight.

Why Reza Pahlavi?

One of the most important things to understand about his position is that he is not presenting himself as the future ruler of Iran, nor is he demanding that the monarchy be automatically restored.

What he has consistently argued for is something much more limited: a transitional leadership role whose purpose is to guide the country from dictatorship to democracy.

He has repeatedly stated that his goal is to function as a bridge—helping Iran move from the collapse of the Islamic Republic toward a democratic system chosen by the Iranian people themselves.

Part of this effort includes a 100-day transition plan, designed to stabilize the country and create the conditions necessary for a democratic process to take place.

To me, this distinction is critical. The goal is not to decide Iran’s future for the people, but to create the environment where the people themselves can decide it.
Whether that ultimately becomes a republic, a constitutional monarchy, or another democratic system — through a national referendum.

The Principles He Is Putting Forward

Another reason I support this approach is the set of principles he has consistently spoken about — principles that many Iranians, regardless of ethnicity or background, can rally around.

These include:

1 — Iran’s territorial integrity

Iran must remain one country. One people under one flag. Not a fragmented nation where different factions fight over their own pieces of territory.

2 — Separation of religion and state

After nearly five decades of clerical rule, this is simply essential. A democratic Iran cannot exist without separating religion from government.

3 — Equality of all Iranians

Regardless of religion, ethnicity, or gender, every Iranian should be equal under the law.

4 — A democratic process

The Iranian people themselves must decide the type of government they want. That decision should come through a democratic process where all citizens are represented.

To me, these principles form a healthy foundation upon which a new Iran could be built.

A Unifying Figure

My support for Reza Pahlavi also comes from what I’ve been seeing and hearing from Iranians themselves.

During protests — both inside Iran and across the diaspora — his name is the one being called in the streets. It has become a rallying cry for the many who are demanding the end of the Islamic Republic.

There is no other figure whose name carries that same weight or functions as a unifying call across the movement. None.
People in Iran were calling his name at the risk of death, imprisonment or torture. They came out to protest by the millions when he asked them to.

If that doesn’t count for something, then I don’t know what does.

Iranians from every background have suffered enormously under this dying regime for decades. This moment represents a rare opportunity for the country to move toward something better.

In my view, now is not the time to start drawing dividing lines.

Now is the time to unite around one vision and one flag.
A free Iran.

Unity First, Politics Later

Political disagreements will inevitably come later — and they should. That is what healthy democracies are built on.

But those debates should happen after the Iranian people have regained their freedom and political voice, not while the country is still trying to escape an authoritarian regime.

To reach that point, Iran needs a safe landing.

It needs stability during the transition.

It needs someone who can help guide the country through that fragile moment.

To my eyes, Reza Pahlavi is the person best positioned to do that.

A Chance for a Different Future

Iranians have endured extraordinary suffering under the Islamic Republic.

The coming years may offer a rare opportunity to finally build a country based on freedom, equality, and democratic representation.

But moments like that require unity.

The regime has spent decades trying to divide Iranians against one another. Avoiding those divisions during a revolutionary moment will be critical.

Iran will need stability. It will need a clear path through the dangerous period between dictatorship and democracy.

There is only one figure who already carries the legitimacy, recognition, and unifying pull to help guide that transition.

In my view, that figure is Reza Pahlavi.

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Where are the humanitarians, who for 2 years, tried to convince us that they cared so deeply for human lives? Where is Greta Thunberg and her ‘deep’ desire to help people living under oppression?

How about the celebrities who never miss an opportunity to virtue signal?

Where are they?

Why is the mainstream media so eerily silent?

During the Israel-Gaza war, a Palestinian couldn’t sneeze without journalists tripping over themselves to publish a story about it. Yet, on the day it was reported that at least 30 000 Iranians have been brutally murdered by the Islamic regime — networks like the BBC had nothing on their cover page about it.

As someone who works as an assistant for a Member of the European Parliament, I can tell you this: there is a flavour of left-wing ideology that is incredibly dangerous. It almost betrayed the Iranian people and it will destroy Europe if left unchallenged.

A Regime, Not a Country

Iran is run by the Islamic republic. A theocratic, Islamic regime that took power during the 1978 revolution. Iran wasn’t always a sharia law hell hole.

One that subjugates women. Executes gay people. Imprisons and kills dissidents. A regime that takes money from the people and funds terror across the Middle East.

Propping up terrorist organisations like Hamas, Hezbollah and the Houthis.

They’ve been holding the entire Middle East hostage for years.

Not to mention, groups like Hezbollah have an international footprint.

In South America, Africa, and yes, Europe.

This regime has given money and drone technology to Russia — who themselves are committing terror in Ukraine.

If you want a basic idea of the ideology this entity has, I’ll give a quick example.

During the Iraq-Iran war (1980-1988), there were entire fields filled with landmines.

But the Islamic regime didn’t want to risk its capable fighters. So it came up with another plan.

Iranian child soldiers — some as young as 9/12 — were gathered up and given plastic keys. Keys they were told opened the doors to paradise.
They were then told to walk through the landmine infested fields.

They used the bodies of these young, indoctrinated children as minesweepers.

This regime is a death-cult.

Now you know the type of people we are dealing with here.

The Protests

In late December protests in Iran started. They began out of frustration.
The economy sucks. The infrastructure is crumbling.
Mostly because the regime uses the people’s money to fund terror and to line their own pockets.

This isn’t the first time massive protests have erupted in the country.

The Iranians, unlike most of the surrounding Arab countries, are not majority Muslim. And they are not Arabs.

They’ve been living under this brutal dictatorship for 46 years and most hate this regime and view it as an occupation.

The protests grew. Millions across the country were coming out. But their chants began to change. They were no longer simply asking for a better life. They were asking for the end of the Islamic Republic. They were demanding a change of regime.

The thing that made this protest so potent and dangerous for the Ayatollahs is the name they were calling on the streets. Reza Pahlavi. Their exiled crown prince. Their Shah. That’s another name for King.

They were chanting Javid Shah. Long live the King.

You must understand how dangerous it is to do such a thing in Iran.

You cannot do that without reasonable expectation of imprisonment, torture and death.

Reza Pahlavi — whose father was the Shah before the revolution — has been planning and drawing up the diplomatic infrastructure to transition Iran from a dictatorship to a democracy, for years. In the case that the regime comes to an end.

He’s offered himself up as a transitional leader. To get the country to a point where they can vote for the type of governance they want. Be it a Republic, a constitutional monarchy — as long as it respects the values of freedom, separation of church and state and a united Iran.

Once the Islamic regime falls, you need such a figure to step in and fill the void.

At the height of the protests, with millions coming out on the streets. It became very clear that Reza Pahlavi was the leader of this new revolution. The protestors carried his picture in the streets. They followed the instructions he gave from exile in America. He is the man that the people are looking to for a better tomorrow.

The Crackdown

But as things began to heat up, the Islamic regime did what they always do. They started to crackdown in the most brutal ways possible. So, to hide their crimes, they shut off the internet. It’s been down for almost a month, as of filming this.

The only way any information makes it through, is via Starlink.

It’s here where things go from dark to pure, unfiltered horror.

Because during this internet shutdown, the regime brought in militia from places like Iraq with one order: To end the public protesting by any means necessary.

You can imagine what happens next.

I’m not going to go into details.
Think of it as October 7th multiplied thousands of times, with no IDF coming to the rescue.

The people are completely defenseless, with nothing but their bare hands.

As of writing this, an estimated 36 000 young people were brutally murdered in a day or two. To be clear, this is one of the lower estimates. It could easily be double that number, or more.

Iran is currently a prison of 90 million people.

Something to keep in mind is that the United States is amassing military assets near Iran as we speak. It’s my belief that the US recognizes the regime has never been so weak in 47 years, and they’re preparing to take advantage of that. Trump promised the people of Iran that “help is on the way”. Whether you like him or not, means absolutely nothing to the Iranian people.

No one but the US or Israel would (or could) do anything.

Europe’s Ideological Blindness

Like I said earlier, I work for an MEP. So I get to see some of the inner workings of the European Parliament. What I saw shocked me.

Left wing ideology in the EU is unhinged.

A resolution passed in the European Parliament a couple weeks ago, with overwhelming support.
One that expresses the EU’s full support for the Iranian people.

It condemns the violence and brutality of the regime.
It calls for diplomatic pressure and sanctions.
It pushes for the IRGC to be recognised as a terrorist organisation.

That’s good.
But there’s a dark underside to all of this.

A resolution is basically a political statement.
And the EU, as an institution, contains many different political views inside it —
Left, Right, and Centre — and they don’t agree on everything, as you might imagine.

Before a resolution is adopted, political groups can propose changes.
These changes are called amendments.
Each amendment is voted on separately, and if it passes, it becomes part of the final text.

This amendment process is the engine room of how the European Parliament works.

In this case, the ECR — a centre-right political group in the European Parliament — proposed an amendment.
Calling for Reza Pahlavi to be invited to address the Parliament.

This is incredibly important to Iranians.

A revolution needs both military action and diplomatic action to be successful. Legitimising Reza Pahlavi as the opposition would be an unbelievable blow to the regime.

However, that amendment was rejected.
The vote was 132 in favour, 387 against, and 96 abstentions.

That alone is revealing.
It’s almost certain that the majority of left-wing groups voted against it or chose to abstain.

But it gets worse.

Some of the amendments proposed by left-wing groups — which were ultimately rejected — included calls to:

• exert pressure on the United States and Israel not to intervene,

• undermine or lift sanctions pressure on Iran — while they’re still butchering people.

• and condemn any external interference in Iran’s affairs.

Think about that.

The people of Iran are almost completely defenceless in the face of this brutality.

This isn’t simply a difference of political ideology.

This is being actively anti human.

It means there’s a group in the European Parliament who would watch Iranians get murdered, maimed and raped.

And not only would they not intervene, if they had their way, they would stop anyone else from intervening.

This is unambiguously evil.

The IRGC has now, thankfully, officially been proscribed as a terrorist organisation.

If you look online you’ll find that the loudest pro palestine voices are silent on Iran. Why? Well, because groups like Hamas, Hezbollah and the Houthis are funded by this same regime. So admitting that they are dark and twisted would mean recognising that these terrorist groups are cut from the same dirty cloth.

This does not compute smoothly in their minds.

For a certain flavour of left wing ideology, an oppressor can only be from the West. They can only be white. Or Jewish. Even though Hamas executes Palestinians on the streets and controls the people with fear — they are not the oppressors. It’s Israel. Even though the Islamic republic butchers people, destabilizes the entire region. Maimes women and so much more. The real oppressor is America.

In London, there was a pro Palestine march a couple weeks ago. They were openly waving Islamic regime flags.
That’s an unambiguous supportive act towards a murderous dictatorship, on the streets of a Western country. They also openly denied the massacres, just like many did after October 7th.

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What I’m trying to say is this.

Europe has become a breeding ground for terrorist support. It’s wrapped up in this “oppressor - oppressed” narrative born out of Western self-hate. It’s spreading like a poison. It’s making its way into governments, the European Union and onto the very streets we walk on.

It makes us vulnerable and weak at fighting against ideologies and cultures that are not compatible with ours. It makes people accept the brain dead idea, which is: all cultures are equal. No. No they are not. That’s painfully obvious.
Ignoring that fact is incredibly dangerous.

That’s why Iran is such a stumbling block for many with this ideology.

Islam took a country that was pro West and making significant, modern advancements, and turned it into a Sharia Law hell hole. One with a dead economy and crumbling infrastructure. It’s become one of the most sanctioned countries on the planet, with one of the most backward social systems — rivaled only by Afghanistan, perhaps.

The Iranian people want out. They want to be pro West and live free. Islamic culture has been a nightmare and brought only pain and death. Their oppressors are the Ayatollahs. Not America or Israel. On the contrary, the Iranians view them as their possible saviours.

This is very confusing for those who convinced themselves of a certain narrative.

Thanks for reading!

Let me know your thoughts.
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Watch the Youtube video HERE

Europe is at a crossroads.

There is one issue dividing the continent to the point of almost tearing it apart. It was one of the main reasons the United Kingdom chose to leave the European Union. It is also why political movements once considered fringe have become mainstream across much of Europe.

That issue is immigration.

Depending on who you ask, concerns about immigration are either wildly overblown—little more than a convenient cover for racism—or they represent an existential threat: one that will eventually undermine public safety, erode culture, and strain welfare systems beyond repair.

So which is it?

I’m an immigrant myself, living in Finland—a country I call home, among people I’ve come to see as my own. I didn’t come here to change Finland. I respect it for what it is. In fact, I want to see it remain exactly that.

That places me in a somewhat unusual position. I can speak both as someone who moved here, and as someone who has come to understand how European societies actually function—and what happens when those systems are pushed beyond their limits.

To understand why Europe’s attitude toward immigration has hardened so dramatically, you have to go back to one specific moment.

2015: The Year Everything Changed

In 2015, more than one million people fleeing war and instability in the Middle East arrived in Europe in a very short span of time. Most came from countries such as Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq.

Many crossed the Mediterranean by boat, arriving first in Greece via Turkey. Others reached Italy by sea. In a matter of months, hundreds of thousands of people reached European shores.

This was not just a humanitarian crisis. It was a systemic shock.

Europe simply wasn’t prepared. Existing safeguards failed. Refugees were unevenly distributed across EU member states. Sweden alone took in around 160,000 refugees in a single year—roughly eight migrants per 1,000 inhabitants. Germany accepted close to half a million. France, Austria, Hungary, and the United Kingdom absorbed hundreds of thousands more.

The European Union’s principle of free movement made containment nearly impossible. Although EU law requires asylum seekers to be registered and processed in the country of arrival, in practice this often did not happen. People moved freely across borders.

The result was a demographic shift that permanently altered Europe.

When very large numbers of people arrive rapidly, often unvetted and destitute, and from societies with different norms around authority, religion, gender, and social behaviour, problems are not just possible—they are inevitable.

And they surfaced quickly.

When Europe Lost Control

Countries such as Sweden and Germany learned, almost immediately, how difficult it is to integrate large numbers of newcomers—especially at that speed.

This wasn’t a question of goodwill. It was a question of capacity.

Where do you find the housing? The teachers? The doctors? The language training? The jobs? The funding?

I want to be clear about one thing. I don’t blame people for fleeing war in search of safety. I would do the exact same thing. So would you.

But Europe’s inability to manage the scale and pace of the influx fundamentally altered how immigration was perceived, regardless of the original moral impulse behind accepting refugees.

Before 2015—particularly in Nordic and Scandinavian countries—immigration was often framed as a moral good. Multiculturalism was widely celebrated.

After 2015, immigration stopped being an abstract moral debate and became a concrete systems problem.

And systems have limits.

The Welfare Contract Started to Break

European countries are well known for their welfare states. In the United States, politicians on the left often point to Nordic countries as models to emulate.

I live and work in Finland. Every month, a significant portion of my salary never reaches my bank account. That money doesn’t come from nowhere.

And I don’t resent it. I’m happy to contribute—because when the system works, it works remarkably well.

But a welfare state is not a buffet line. It is a social contract.

Everyone contributes, and everyone benefits: education, healthcare, infrastructure, and support during hard times so people can get back on their feet.

Problems arise when large numbers of people enter a country, draw heavily from that system, and are unable—or unwilling—to contribute to it for extended periods of time.

Nordic societies, in particular, are built on high levels of social trust. Their welfare systems function because people broadly share expectations about work, contribution, and responsibility.

When mass migration overwhelmed those systems, an imbalance emerged: more people drawing from the pot, fewer people filling it.

That imbalance cannot be sustained indefinitely.

When Daily Life Got Worse

Over time, ordinary people began to feel the effects.

Healthcare systems slowed. Doctor’s appointments that once took days began taking weeks or months. Schools faced new pressures: teaching in multiple languages, diverting resources to basic integration, and managing classroom tensions amplified by cultural misunderstandings.

Social housing became harder to access, even for citizens who had relied on it in the past.

Safety and predictability—core features of life in Northern Europe—also began to erode. In several countries, migrants from specific regions became overrepresented in certain crime categories, including gang violence and sexual assault.

In Sweden, for example, gang shootings increased significantly over the past decade. Explosive attacks, once virtually unheard of, became disturbingly common.

It is difficult to argue that these societies are safer today than they were fifteen years ago.

Is it wrong for a local to notice this and call it out?

Or do we just call him racist?

The Political Reckoning

Across Europe, support for right-wing parties surged.

This development is often misunderstood—especially by American commentators. “Right wing” in Europe does not mean the same thing it does in the United States. Yet European politics is frequently interpreted through an American lens, with large segments of the population dismissed as “far right” for expressing concerns about immigration.

That strategy has failed.

Reality has a way of asserting itself, regardless of how uncomfortable it may be. Europe is learning that lesson now.

Denmark is a telling example. It has a left-wing government with some of the strictest immigration policies in Europe—and it is popular. Not because Danes suddenly became racist, but because voters wanted order, continuity, and limits that matched capacity.

Culture matters.

Coming from South Africa, I know what life looks like outside Europe’s relatively safe and stable bubble. Culture shapes trust, institutions, and everyday behaviour.

When a culture changes, the country changes with it.

I have a family here. My daughter is only a few months old. Like millions of Europeans, I find myself asking what this country will look like in twenty years. Will it still be safe? Will social trust still exist?

Those questions do not make someone racist.

They make them serious and aware.

Governments need to take these genuine concerns seriously, or things are going to get much worse — before they (hopefully) get better.

Most people in Finland don’t care about race. They care about how you behave once you’re here.

In my view, that is a perfectly reasonable expectation.

Watch the full youtube video HERE

As an immigrant in Finland, I’ve noticed a gigantic problem.

I see echoes here of something that’s already tearing other Western countries apart — scenes from Los Angeles, London, and Berlin where crowds wave flags and chant slogans about belonging, yet everything about those protests shows how divided the West has become.
Behind all of it sits a strange idea: that all immigrants are one people who ought to think and act the same way — that our allegiance should be to our “community,” not the country we now call home.

It’s a rotten idea that’s quietly ravaging much of the West.
If left unchecked, it will destroy the very trust that holds our societies together.
It’s already fanning the flames of anger, frustration, and division across multiple countries.

If things continue the way they are — and if saner minds don’t start speaking the truth — it will only get worse.

We are not one people.

Allegiance Over Identity

I moved to Finland six years ago. It’s my home now.
I have a family here, and it’s in my interest to make sure this country continues to thrive.

My allegiance is first and foremost to Finland — not to some vague immigrant community.
In my view, that’s how it should be.

The “us versus them” mentality being pushed politically is insane. Some immigrants get drawn into it, often cheered on by locals full of self-destructive “empathy.”

And this isn’t unique to Finland. The same mindset exists across Europe and in the United States — people who move to a country, benefit from everything it offers, and then campaign for ideas that stand completely against the culture that gave them stability in the first place.

The Backlash

When I began talking openly about integration, Finnish culture, and what it means to belong to this society, I noticed something strange.

People flooded my comments calling me a traitor.
A traitor to what? To who?

Some even had the audacity to call me a traitor to black people. Others accused me of “sucking up” to Finnish people for attention — a grifter, an Uncle Tom.
Anything positive I said about this country — or its people — was enough to provoke outrage from a small but loud subset of immigrants and locals who think I’m saying “the wrong thing.”

So what exactly is so wrong about what I’m saying?

What They Expect

The basic assumption seems to be that because I wasn’t born here, and because I’m black, my main priority should be “protecting” others like me.

Let’s put aside the fact that black people and immigrants don’t need my protection in Finland.
Let’s also put aside the fact that here, I’m equal under the law and can benefit from the same resources and opportunities as anyone else — provided I’m here legally.

In the minds of these people, my goal should be to reshape Finnish society — to mould it into something that feels more comfortable for outsiders. Even if that means changing the very character of Finland itself.

And I’d be applauded for it.
If I spent my time digging up stories of discrimination, victimhood, or a so-called “black struggle,” I’d be rewarded with pats on the back from the “tolerant” and “empathetic” crowd.
Some people seem to relish the idea of calling their own countrymen racist.

The Victimhood Trap

For certain immigrants, this narrative offers an easy escape.

If every difficult or unfamiliar experience can be explained away as “probably racist,”
then there’s no need to learn the culture.
No need to understand how Finns think.
No need to work through the natural discomfort that comes with adapting to a new land.

Integration is hard.
It’s awkward.
It can feel lonely.
But it’s necessary.

When people dismiss that process by framing every cultural difference as prejudice, they rob themselves — and the country they live in — of something essential.
That’s why I reject everything about this premise.

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Perspective Changes Everything

Moving to Finland from South Africa gave me perspective.
I couldn’t believe the quality of life people enjoyed here.

Living here hasn’t always been easy.
One of my biggest mistakes was not learning the language intensely from the beginning. There’s a reason for it, but it’s not a good enough excuse.

Because of that, I had to play the integration game on hard mode — and I had no one to blame but myself.

Even during those early, awkward months, I could already see the truth: the quality of life here is unlike anywhere I’ve ever been.

I remember seeing people begging on the streets with nicer iPhones than I had.
I’m half-joking, but it’s true.

Everything people fight for in countries like the United States already exists here:
universal healthcare, free education all the way up to university, affordable and efficient public transport.
I pay around sixty euros a month and can take buses and trains all over the city.

All of this is available regardless of skin colour or ethnicity — as long as you’re a citizen or a legal resident.

No Excuses

In the U.S., people often argue that inequality stems from a lack of access — that minorities struggle because they don’t have the same financial opportunities.
Let’s put aside the fact that some minorities, like Asians, actually outperform white Americans — for the sake of argument.

In Finland, those barriers don’t exist.
So what’s the excuse if you don’t perform well?
What’s stopping anyone from succeeding?

There was no slavery of black people here.
No Apartheid. No segregation.

And yet there’s still a visible performance gap between students with immigrant backgrounds and ethnic Finns — one that persists into the second generation.
That’s something we need to confront honestly, because there are no excuses left.

What Real Disadvantage Looks Like

I know what actual disadvantage looks like.
In South Africa, my family was dirt poor.
I often went to school hungry, watching classmates eat lunches we could never afford.

Public high schools were terrible.
If you wanted a better education, you had to pay for it.
South Africa remains one of the most unequal countries on Earth, and that inequality is still visible along racial lines.

I would have done anything to have the opportunities people here take for granted.

Here, every student gets lunch.
Your parents’ income doesn’t determine the quality of your education.
University is free.

That’s why I have little sympathy for those who constantly complain about Finland.
Where else on Earth can you go that’s better?
If you can’t make it here, you’ll struggle anywhere.

Culture, Not Colour

The solution is simple — though not easy.

Everyone, on all sides, needs to understand a basic truth:
success has nothing to do with skin colour,
but everything to do with culture.

Integration has to be front and center.
It should be expected — and Finland shouldn’t feel ashamed for insisting on it.
Cultural or religious values from elsewhere must take a back seat to the ones that built this country.

That might sound harsh, but it’s about self-preservation — and giving people the best possible chance to succeed.

Finland has done well for itself, despite everything it’s faced.
This country was once dirt poor.
It fought wars, endured famine, and resisted colonisation.
And yet today, it’s one of the best places to live in the world.

That didn’t happen by accident.
It happened because of culture.

Standing With Finland

That’s why, despite being born elsewhere, I stand with Finland completely.
I want to protect and promote what makes this place what it is — because it works.

When a place becomes your home, you defend it.
You look after it.
You add to it.

I am part of Finnish society, and I want to see it continue to thrive.

Watch the Youtube video HERE

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A Gift Turned into Betrayal

Milan Jaff is an Iraqi-born immigrant who moved to Finland at the age of sixteen — alone. Instead of taking the incredible opportunity he was given, he chose a life of crime. A life that earned him widespread hatred in this country.

From rape to attempted murder — and a string of other crimes — he’s done it all.

He arrived in Finland in 2017 on the basis of subsidiary international protection. That means the Finnish Immigration Service may grant you a residence permit even if you don’t fully qualify for asylum — as long as your risk of bodily harm in your home country is deemed credible. You could call it an act of kindness. You’re not quite a refugee, but you’re still being looked after.

Another part of this protection, as I understand it, is that it has to be renewed every year. Each year, the authorities re-evaluate whether the reasons for protection still apply.

Today, Jaff is sitting in prison, and the Finnish Immigration Service has ordered his deportation back to Iraq. Online, many are celebrating the decision. People were simply done with his antics.

He made rap music glorifying gang life — and lived exactly the kind of life he bragged about. In 2023, he was charged and found guilty of rape, and aggravated rape of a child — a thirteen-year-old. Photos from the hearing show him smiling, smug, completely unremorseful. He looked almost proud of what he’d done.

So you can imagine the rage people felt — not just toward him, but toward a system that allowed him to be here in the first place. Finland already has problems. It doesn’t need to import more.

The System That Couldn’t Protect Itself

One massive question remains: how did it take this long for deportation to even be on the table? He was brought to Finland to be protected from bodily harm in Iraq. But what happens when such a person consistently inflicts bodily harm on others — the very people who gave him safety?

What’s even more outrageous is that his protection status isn’t automatic — it has to be renewed every single year. Meaning that every year, someone looked at his record, saw what he was doing, and still decided to renew it. The system had a built-in opportunity to fix the problem — yet somehow, it kept approving him. How does someone like that not instantly lose protection and get kicked out?

He’s currently serving ten years in prison for leading an organised criminal group — the so-called Kurdish Mafia — responsible for multiple violent incidents around Helsinki. Think about that: a Kurdish Mafia. In Finland.

When Countries Import Conflicts

This is one of those uncomfortable truths about immigration that we cannot afford to ignore. If a country isn’t careful about who it lets in, it will eventually import other nations’ conflicts.

And when that happens — when a country imports another’s problems — those same divisions don’t magically disappear. They just move to new soil. You see it across Europe.

When tensions between India and Pakistan rose, the UK grew nervous — with large communities from both sides, they feared those tensions would spill onto British streets. You see the same thing with Israel and Palestine. European countries with large Muslim populations host the biggest anti-Israel protests. These demographic realities start influencing politics — even shaping what governments dare to say.

In the UK, they now talk openly about the “Muslim vote” — a bloc that can sway elections and bend policy. It’s creating real tension in the country.

What starts as cultural tension eventually spills over into violence. Sweden is proof of that — it’s now facing a gang-violence epidemic it can barely contain.

Sweden’s Lesson — and El Salvador’s Example

One of the most notorious networks is Foxtrot, led by Rawa Majid — nicknamed The Kurdish Fox. His family moved to Sweden when he was a baby. Now he’s wanted internationally for drug trafficking and murder. He bought Turkish citizenship to avoid extradition and now lives comfortably there, running his Swedish network from abroad. Turkey refuses to hand him over. How they’re still in NATO is beyond me.

Now organised crime has become part of daily life in what was once one of the safest countries on Earth. And it’s not the only network tied to foreign actors. Sweden let the cancer grow out of empathy — and now it has metastasised. They don’t know how to kill it.

The only cure left is radiation. El Salvador is a perfect example. Before President Nayib Bukele decided to go to war with the gangs, the gangsters ruled the country. People were killed, abducted, and extorted daily. Ordinary citizens lived in fear. It was one of the most dangerous places on Earth — and during all that, humanitarian groups were silent. No one came to help them.

But the moment the government finally fought back — hard — those same Western organisations suddenly found their voices. They rushed to condemn El Salvador for human-rights violations.

Bukele said it best: “Where were all these humanitarian organisations when our people were being gunned down in the streets? Where were they when our children were being kidnapped and murdered? It’s only now, when we finally have peace, that they care.”

That’s what I mean by suicidal empathy — a compassion so misplaced it ends up protecting the wicked instead of the innocent. It’s the disease of the modern West: we think kindness is the highest virtue, even when it puts the people we love in danger. We’re terrified of being called racist, even when it’s completely untrue.

The Danger of Over-Explaining Evil

When I look at someone like Milan Jaff — a criminal who’s harmed people — I notice a tendency to over-analyse. We keep looking for reasons behind evil, as if every monster must have a tragic backstory or a medical label to excuse it. But sometimes the truth is simple: he made bad choices, he hurt people, and now he must face the consequences.

Of course, there’s nuance too. Some people do come from regions ravaged by war, where trauma and violence are normal. Some do struggle with mental health. But even so, it makes one thing clear: Finland — and other European countries — must be ruthless about who they let in, and just as ruthless about who they remove.

Those who come here should contribute — not consume. They must buy into this culture, want to protect it, and see it prosper. You don’t have to be ethnically Finnish to love this country. Anyone can learn to love it — and be a blessing to it — if they choose to.

But that’s only possible if they don’t carry ideologies that make that love impossible.

Home Is Worth Defending

I get a lot of heat for saying things like this. People call me a traitor to immigrants. That’s the problem right there — “immigrants” are not a monolith. We’re not a single people.

Yes, I came from a different country. But this is my home, and I want to protect it. I don’t care who you are — if you’re against Finland, then I’m against you.

That’s the real point of the Milan Jaff story. He was given an opportunity millions would die for. Instead, he chose to be a gangster — from rape, to attempted murder, to public menace.

I have zero sympathy for him. All my sympathy goes to the people he hurt.

If this story serves any purpose, it’s to remind Finland what happens when it lets its guard down.

Watch the Youtube video HERE

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Recognising a Palestinian state today doesn’t bring peace. It rewards terror. It doesn’t help Palestinians — if anything, it makes their lives worse.

But that hasn’t stopped countries like the UK, Spain, or Australia from rushing to do it — just so they can pat themselves on the back and feel like they’ve done something meaningful. This is the sickness of our age: confusing looking good with doing good. Because actually understanding this conflict is uncomfortable.

So let’s take off our kid gloves, put aside comfort, and get a proper understanding.

It’s Not Just About Land

The Western mind keeps trying to “Westernize” this conflict — imagining it’s just about borders and territory. But this isn’t Europe. This is the Middle East — and outside of Israel, every country in this region runs under Islam as the ultimate authority, not democracy.

And this is the part most of the West refuses to admit: this is a religious and ideological war. For centuries, Jews in the Muslim world lived as dhimmis — second-class citizens, tolerated but never equal. The Qur’an speaks harshly of Jews. Generations were raised to see them as cursed, treacherous, and subhuman.

Accepting a Jewish state wouldn’t just mean living next to Jews as equals — it would mean accepting that Jews can rule themselves, on their own land. And for many in that worldview, that is unthinkable.

This conflict has never just been about land. The media frames it that way, activists repeat it, but that misses the heart of the matter. There is something deeper at stake here — something most people don’t see. And understanding that is the key to understanding why this war shakes the West so deeply.

There is no doubt that there is great suffering in Gaza. War is terrible and I truly pray that it finally comes to an end. I want the hostages released and a new beginning for innocent civilians caught up in this war. They deserve to live in peace and dignity.

However, the pain we see in Gaza isn’t unique — not even in the region — unfortunately. But the world’s reaction to it is.

If this was really just about suffering, death tolls, or displacement, we’d see far more outrage about Yemen, Nigeria, or South Sudan. In Yemen alone, more people have been killed or displaced in the last 10–15 years than in the entire history of the Israeli–Palestinian conflict since 1948. Millions are starving in South Sudan — more than half the population. Nearly 17 million people in Syria need humanitarian aid. Thousands of Christians are massacred by jihadists in Nigeria every year.

But there are no protests. No Nigerian flags in bios. No emergency sessions at the UN.

Why?

Because this conflict isn’t treated as one tragedy among many — it’s treated as the moral crisis of our time.

Peace Was Offered Again and Again — and Rejected

From the very beginning, Palestinians were given a choice — not just to live alongside a Jewish state, but to join it.

When David Ben-Gurion, Israel’s first prime minister, declared independence in 1948, he said:

Even while under attack, Israel invited Arabs to stay, to become citizens, to help build the country together.

The very next day, five Arab armies invaded in an attempt to wipe the Jewish state off the map. They lost — and they’ve lost every war since.

But even then, Palestinians were offered a state of their own again and again — in 1947, 1967, 2000, 2008 — and each time their leaders said no. Not because the borders weren’t generous enough, but because accepting those offers meant accepting a Jewish state next door — and that was the one thing they could not accept.

After 1948, Egypt ruled Gaza and Jordan annexed the West Bank for 19 years. Neither created a Palestinian state. There weren’t even serious calls for one.

Fast forward to today: Gaza is ruled by Hamas, whose charter calls for the destruction of Israel and the murder of Jews everywhere. They’ve held no elections since 2006, allow no free press, and crush dissent. They often do public executions.

The West Bank is run by the Palestinian Authority under Mahmoud Abbas, who has refused to hold elections since 2005 — because Hamas would probably win, even there. And while the PA poses as a moderate peace partner, it still pays monthly salaries to terrorists who kill Israelis, names schools after suicide bombers, and refuses to condemn attacks on civilians.

These are the people Western leaders are so eager to reward with recognition.

What a joke.

Gaza Was the Test — and It Failed

In 2005, Israel made a massive gamble for peace. They withdrew every soldier and forcefully removed every settler who refused — as seen in the picture. They even dug up and reburied their dead in Israel proper. Billions of dollars flowed into Gaza. It could have become a thriving coastal economy — Singapore on the Mediterranean.

Instead, Hamas staged a coup, threw rivals off rooftops, and turned Gaza into a terror base.

And then came October 7th.

October 7th wasn’t just a terror attack — it was supposed to be the start of a regional war to wipe Israel off the map. Hamas coordinated with Hezbollah, who were to attack from the north, and Iran, who was prepared to fire thousands of ballistic missiles. By some twist of luck, Hamas jumped the gun and the other actors hesitated.

Imagine if that had worked. Thousands of rockets and ballistic missiles raining down. Massacres in every town. The end of the Jewish state — real genocide. Not the fake one people are attempting to libel Israel with.

And yet, Western leaders rush to talk about recognising a Palestinian state. Hamas believes this recognition is happening because of October 7th — proof that terror works.

The Unholy Alliance

And here’s what makes it even stranger: the very people in the West who shout the loudest about human rights, women’s rights, gay rights — are the ones defending regimes that would throw them off rooftops.

On paper, radical Islam and the progressive left are ideological opposites. One imposes strict religious law, the other demands total sexual freedom. One subjugates women, the other waves feminist flags. Yet they stand side by side because they share one goal: tearing down the West and everything it stands for — starting with Israel.

What’s at Stake for the West — and for Finland

Israel is the beacon of freedom in the Middle East. It’s the only place where Arabs, Christians, Jews, Muslims, and atheists have equal rights — where women can vote, speak, and lead; where you can love who you love without fear.

Israel shows what the Middle East could be — and for some, that’s exactly why they hate it.

This conflict is a mirror — and it’s reflecting the West.

It’s forcing us to ask whether we still believe in the things that built our civilisation.
Because the West wasn’t an accident. It was built on two great pillars.

The first was Greek philosophy — the idea that truth can be sought through reason, that ideas can be debated, that logic matters more than power.

The second was Judeo-Christian morality — the belief that every human being is made in the image of God, that even the weakest have dignity, that justice is not just a social contract but a moral duty.

Those two together gave us the framework for everything we call “the free world.”
Human rights. The rule of law. Equality before the law. Freedom of speech.

Israel is the physical link to that remarkable story.

But look around — those foundations are being attacked from every angle.
Not just from jihadists who openly say they want to destroy the West, but from within — by people who have been taught to hate the very civilisation that gave them the freedom to hate it.

That’s why this war matters.
Israel’s enemies are our enemies — whether we like it or not.

Finland has not yet recognised a Palestinian state — and that is the right choice. Doing so now would send a message that terror works. That barbarism earns legitimacy.

Lets not do that.

If we get this wrong, we won’t just betray Israel — we will betray ourselves. Because the same forces that want to destroy Israel hate the West too — and if we don’t stand firm now, we will face them on our own soil.

Watch the Youtube video HERE

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Like many of you, I watched the horrible video of Charlie Kirk being assassinated. At first, I didn’t believe it. It seemed crazy that someone would shoot a political commentator just for his opinions.

Even then, I thought he would recover — and one day tell an unbelievable story.
But to my absolute horror, he died.

That shook me. And it made me reflect: on what’s happening in America, what I’ve seen online, and what lessons Finland needs to take from this.

Respecting Someone You Disagree With

I once made a video debunking Charlie’s take that “Finland is very Russian.” That critique wasn’t about him personally — it was about how American commentators often misunderstand Europe, especially when it comes to Russia and Ukraine.

I had even hoped to debate him one day about that terrible take. Now, I never will.

But here’s the truth: I respected him. Not for his every opinion, but for the fact that he put his ideas out there and tested them in public. He lived a life in service of something bigger than himself — in his case, God — and believed family and responsibility matter for society. On those points, I agreed with him.

He was a conservative. Millions resonated with his message. Millions disagreed. But he wasn’t a radical.

When Death Is Celebrated — and Covered Shamefully

So imagine my shock seeing people celebrate his death online. To them, he wasn’t just wrong — he was evil. And if you believe someone is evil, then their death isn’t a tragedy… it’s a victory.

That logic is unhinged.
Because it means: if you don’t have the “right” opinions, your life doesn’t matter.

Iltalehti — one of Finland’s biggest newspaper tabloids — covered the tragic assassination in a shameful way: By drawing a comparison to the 1933 Reichstag fire in Germany which Hitler then used as pretext for gaining ‘emergency powers’.

The headline Iltalehti ran was: The Killing of Trump’s Supporter May Have Scary Consequences - Expert Highlights Hitler Connection.

Absolutely shameful.

The Same Seed in Finland

Now, Finland isn’t at American levels of division. Not yet. But I can feel the same instinct bubbling under the surface.

Disagree politely, raise an uncomfortable truth, or use the “wrong” words — suddenly you’re branded “racist,” “fascist,” or even a “Nazi.” Even if you are none of those things.

And here’s the problem: if someone truly was a Nazi or fascist, wouldn’t violence against them seem justified? Wouldn’t demonising them seem natural?

That’s why slapping those labels on everyone who holds a different view is so dangerous. It leaves no room for nuance, no space for flexibility, no possibility of good faith debate. Everything becomes black and white. Left or Right. Good or evil.

Finnish Politics Isn’t American Politics

What makes this worse is that being “Right wing” in Finland is not the same thing as being Right wing in America.

Here, even conservatives support things that Americans would call “socialism”: universal healthcare, the welfare state, high taxes to pay for it all. In fact, both the Left and Right here defend those systems. The real debates are in the nuances:

• What kind of immigration should Finland prioritise?

• How important is it to maintain Finnish culture, and how?

• In tough economic times, are budget cuts logical, or authoritarian?

These are disagreements about policy, not about abolishing social services or treating women as second-class citizens.

That’s why it’s insane to import America’s language of demonisation into Finland. It’s not only dishonest — it’s dangerous.

A Warning Finland Must Hear

This is what I believe: Finland’s future depends on how it preserves its culture, integrates newcomers, and protects what makes this place one of the safest, most trusted societies on earth.

But if ideology starts overruling reality, if we start demonising one another like Americans do, we will face turmoil. Look at Sweden. Look at the UK. Do we want that here?

So yes — I will keep speaking, even when it makes people uncomfortable. If that earns me the label “ultra-Right wing,” then maybe the labels themselves have lost all meaning.

Because Finland doesn’t need more labels.
It needs honesty.

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Asking the Question

Should Finland ban the Burka? The Niqab? The Chador? And while we’re at it — what about the Hijab?
To some, even asking that question is “hateful” or “Islamophobic.” But it’s not. It’s a question about culture, values, and the kind of country Finland wants to be in the future. It’s the difference between protecting our future or sleepwalking into a crisis. If we can’t even talk about this, then Finland has already chosen comfort over courage — and once a nation does that, it never ends well.

My Position

Here’s where I stand. The Burka and the Niqab should be banned outright. No hesitation. For security reasons, for social cohesion, and for women’s rights. Even if hardly anyone wears them today, that’s no reason to ignore the issue. Because small issues left unchecked become big problems.

They add nothing to Finland — in fact, they undermine what the country stands for. If your religion requires that even a woman’s face must disappear from public life, then in a country like Finland, it’s your religion that needs to adapt or moderate. Not the country’s responsibility to change. We don’t have to be apologetic about that.

But I don’t think every head or face covering needs a total ban. With the Hijab or the Chador, restrictions — in some cases — make sense to me. Schools. Certain jobs. Spaces where communication and trust matter. I’ve seen young girls that couldn’t be older than 12 wearing Hijabs. Was that really their choice? Or are they already subject to the same type of social pressure placed upon women in countries that are backward in the way they treat women? Perhaps we need to be looking at age restrictions for some of the others.

Freedom vs. Endorsement

Because yes — freedom of religion should and does exist. No one should be harassed for what they choose to believe in. Ever. But freedom doesn’t mean endorsement. Finland doesn’t need to celebrate coverings as “diversity.” That’s a slippery slope.

Symbols of Oppression Abroad

And let’s not forget what these garments symbolize elsewhere. They are not neutral. In Iran, women risk prison or death for resisting the Hijab. In Afghanistan, the Burka is a prison. Women are not allowed to speak. Their voices are gone. They are powerless. Across the Middle East and Africa, these garments are the uniform of gender apartheid.

Is this what Finland wants to co-sign and endorse? For the sake of “diversity,” are we willing to ignore this horror? Are other people’s chains now a fashion accessory? Something to be marketed as “empowerment” in the West? That’s not diversity. That’s a disturbing perversion of truth.

The Risk for Finland

So forgive me for having reservations about how these garments take root here — and the message Finland sends by being too afraid to confront the issue head on.

What happens when — or if — wearing a Burka or even a Hijab stops being a choice for girls growing up in Muslim communities in Finland? How do we know they’re free, when community pressure is one of the most powerful forces in the world? How would we even deal with that? Will we shrug and say, “It’s their culture”? Or will Finland, one of the most equal countries on earth, actually take a stand?

Learning From Others

Finland is lucky to be “late to the party” at times. Because we can look at other countries, see their mistakes, and make better choices. Other European countries are already dealing with this issue on a much larger scale. But it’s not only them.

Look at the evidence. Even Muslim-majority countries have taken steps. Tunisia, Morocco, and Algeria have all restricted the Burka in different ways — from banning it in government offices to removing it from workplaces and shops. Uzbekistan went even further, passing a law that bans full face coverings in public altogether.

And in Europe? Finland would hardly be the first to ban or restrict the Burka. Around a dozen countries have acted — France, Belgium, Denmark, Switzerland, Bulgaria, Norway, the Netherlands, and others. Some bans are total, others partial, but the point is the same: they all recognized that face coverings don’t fit with their values or their way of life.

These are not fringe states. These are mainstream democracies — and even Muslim societies. They all came to the same conclusion: some practices don’t fit. Just because something is “diverse” doesn’t mean it’s good.

Answering the Counterarguments

Now, what are the arguments against bans or restrictions? Three, usually.
It’s Islamophobic.
It’s undemocratic.
It’s not important, and we shouldn’t worry about it.

Here’s why I disagree.

Is it Islamophobic? No. Finland already welcomes Muslims. This is not about rejecting people — it’s about rejecting practices that contradict our values or erode social cohesion.

Is it undemocratic? No. Democracy isn’t chaos. It’s freedom protected by rules. You can’t drive 150 km/h on the highway. Driving without a seatbelt is illegal — even if some could argue that it ought to be a personal choice. Laws exist so freedom doesn’t eat itself alive. They create the boundaries that make society safe.

And what about when people say it’s not important? Wrong again. Culture is everything. It’s the glue that holds a society together. Ignore it, and society cracks — and eventually crumbles into the chaos of lost national identity.

Why Finns Feel Uneasy

That’s why many Finns feel uneasy when they see certain coverings, especially in growing numbers. Not because they hate any religion or people, but because it looks like a refusal to integrate. Like someone walking into Finland holding up a sign saying: “We live here, but we will not live as you live.” What people wouldn’t feel some way about that?

The Real Danger

And here’s the real danger: if Finland can’t show clarity on these small contradictions, how will it ever show strength on bigger ones? If every cultural clash gets brushed aside as “just diversity,” the foundation weakens. You don’t see the cracks right away. But one day, the wall gives way. And then it’s too late.

The people will start feeling like their values are secondary to the will of foreigners. Look at the UK. Many ordinary people now feel their culture is an afterthought — because leaders were too timid to draw lines early on. Finland doesn’t need to make the same mistake. We can see where that road leads, and we can take the off-ramp before it’s too late.

The Bottom Line

This country must never be ashamed of what it has built. Freedom. Equality. Trust. Fairness. These are not decorations — they are the foundation. They must be protected and promoted above all else. This is one of the best and safest places to live. If someone doesn’t like the way we live here, they can always move. It’s a free world.

People who move here and add to society should be welcomed. But assimilation is not optional. Everyone can pray how they like, believe what they like, practice their religion — but only if it doesn’t contradict the fundamental values of this country.

The Burka and Niqab are one test. There will be others. And each time Finland hesitates, the cost grows.

This is not about fabric. It’s about Finland’s courage. Does this country have the backbone to defend itself culturally? Or will it trade strength for the cheap comfort of being liked?

Because the day Finland stops defending its own values is the day Finland stops being Finland. And that would be the greatest loss of all.

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If you enjoyed reading this, you might enjoy watching the Youtube video HERE

At the beginning of August, a story broke that was so absurd I thought it had to be a joke. It wasn’t.

One of the Moomin characters — Stinky, also known as Haisuli in Finnish — was removed from an exhibition in New York. Why? Because someone thought he might, somehow, be perceived as racist.

Yes, Stinky. A mischievous little furball with a red nose and antennae.

A Beloved Character

If you’re Finnish, you already know how deeply loved the Moomins are. If you’re not, here’s the short version: Tove Jansson created these characters in the 1940s, and they’ve since become a cultural icon. You see them on mugs, toys, TV shows, and even at a theme park.

There isn’t a Finn I’ve met who doesn’t light up when talking about the Moomins. Kids and adults alike speak of them with warmth. They’re woven into Finnish identity the way Dragon Ball Z or Naruto was for me growing up.

Which makes it all the more bizarre that anyone would look at Stinky and see… racism.

The Absurd Complaint

The exhibition at the Brooklyn Public Library was meant to celebrate 80 years of the Moomins and honor Jansson herself. But according to Roleff Kråkström, CEO of Moomin Characters:

“One of their supporters had thought Stinky could be seen as a racist symbol.”

Instead of pushing back, he replied politely:

“We see this as a healthy societal discussion.”

But how is this healthy?

If the first thought you have when looking at a children’s story full of fantastical creatures — white hippos, trolls, and a mischievous furball — is “this is racist”, I’d argue the problem is with you.

When Sensitivity Becomes Madness

This isn’t just about Stinky. It’s about the way hyper-racial awareness works. Once you start seeing everything through the lens of race, you find it everywhere — even where it doesn’t exist.

That kind of worldview doesn’t just distort the present. It rewrites the past. It teaches people to look at history with a single, negative filter. To only see what was wrong, and then use that as a broad brush to paint an entire society as rotten.

“Finland is a racist country.”

That’s the danger.

And let’s be clear: Tove Jansson was not a closet bigot. She was a lesbian living at a time when being openly gay was taboo — a queer creative pioneer. Her work is filled with themes of tolerance, belonging, and radical acceptance. To claim she was smuggling racist caricatures into her stories is insulting to her legacy.

Laughing at the Absurd

So what do we do with stories like this?

We laugh.

In Harry Potter, there’s a creature called a Boggart. It hides in a chest, takes the form of your greatest fear, and the only way to defeat it is to laugh at it — to cast the spell Riddikulus.

That’s how we should treat claims like this. Laughing strips them of power.

A Finnish Perspective

One of the things I’ve noticed living in Finland is how little “whiteness” matters here. Finns don’t primarily describe themselves as white — they describe themselves as Finnish. That’s all they’ve ever wanted to be.

When the Russian Empire tried to Russify them, Finns fought to preserve their identity. That was the battle — not skin colour.

Of course, there’s debate about the Sámi people and how they’ve been treated. But Finland never had an overseas colonial empire like Britain or France. It doesn’t have a history of slavery or institutionalised racial laws. It’s a different history, and a different context.

Which is why importing America’s racial neuroses into Finland is so dangerous.

A Final Word

No country is perfect. Finland has its share of ignorant people, like anywhere else. But as a rule, if you live here, contribute, and respect the norms, not many people care about the colour of your skin.

That’s why this whole Stinky episode matters. Not because one American complained, but because of how quickly institutions validated it. That’s where the real danger lies — giving ground where none needs to be given.

So yes, the idea of Stinky being racist is hilarious. But it’s also a reminder: Finland should protect its cultural confidence and refuse to be bullied into carrying guilt that doesn’t belong to it.

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this, consider subscribing or sharing this post. Sometimes the best way to fight absurdity is to laugh at it together.

If you want to watch the Youtube version of this, you can do that HERE

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President Stubb joined EU leaders in the United States — alongside Zelenskyy — to discuss how to bring Russia’s war against Ukraine to an end. Seeing our president so well respected and prominently featured makes me feel proud — and I know that pride is shared by the whole country.

America’s Turning Point

This was an incredibly important meeting. I’ve been an open critic of how President Trump has handled Ukraine. He has oscillated between recognizing that Ukraine is the victim and blaming them for starting the war — an outrageous idea with absolutely no truth behind it.

For now, at least, Trump seems to have adopted a fairly positive stance toward Ukraine. If you’ve followed the news, you know how antagonistic he’s often been toward America’s closest allies. Trump is famously mercurial, so who knows how long this “honeymoon” will last. Hopefully he hasn’t reverted to calling Zelenskyy a dictator before this article even goes live.

America remains the leader of the free world — whether we like it or not. It rebuilt Europe after World War II and emerged as the dominant superpower. Fascism was defeated. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, communism was defeated too. Churchill once described fascism and communism as opposites like the North and South Pole: they may have different animals roaming about, but the climate is the same — cold, bleak, and barren.

Fortunately, democracy emerged victorious. The Western world — with all its flaws — is still a far better system to live under than the alternatives. Despite what the activists calling for the “abolition” of capitalism might claim.

That’s why the infamous Oval Office meeting between Trump, Vance, and Zelenskyy was so disturbing. It felt like a turning point — as though the United States was abandoning everything it had built and claimed to stand for.

Zelenskyy had refused to leave his country when it was invaded. President Biden had offered him a ride out. He replied: I don’t need a ride, I need weapons. At that moment, when the whole world thought Ukraine was doomed against Russia’s might, he chose to stay and fight. He embodied everything America says it values. Yet sitting in front of the U.S. president, he was shouted down, told to “say thank you,” and almost blamed for the illegal invasion of his own country.

So yes, it’s encouraging to see Trump change his tune. Meeting European leaders to discuss giving Ukraine security guarantees is a complete 180. I hope it continues. I’m not overly optimistic — we may still be just one phone call away from Trump switching sides again — but I hope nonetheless.

Finland Steps Up

As much as this meeting matters, what fascinates me is how involved our own president has been. Somehow, Stubb has made a small country like Finland a meaningful player on the world stage. Of course, our long border with Russia and his role as commander-in-chief are significant factors. But the deeper story — the one that makes me so proud — is that through language, wit, and historical perspective, he has reshaped how the world sees Finland.

Watch any interview with President Stubb and read the comments. It’s rare to see a politician so widely respected. Even here at home, those who disagree with him on policy still give him credit. No one can deny his influence in shaping world politics — and possibly the future of the transatlantic partnership. It’s fitting, since he openly describes himself as a true believer in that partnership.

After that Oval Office debacle, the relationship between Trump and Zelenskyy seemed broken. That was devastating for Europe, because the way this war ends will shape the future of the Western world. I felt hopeless then, as though geopolitics were unraveling into something grotesque. But behind the scenes, who was working to repair the damage? President Stubb.

Not alone, of course — other European leaders played their parts. But Stubb’s role was crucial. Not long after, he hosted Zelenskyy in Helsinki. It was the perfect contrast: warm, respectful, hopeful. They laughed and joked. Finland felt his burden — the weight of carrying his nation’s survival on his shoulders.

When Stubb treated him with such dignity, it felt as though Finland was speaking through him — and even as someone who’s become Finn(ish), I shared in that pride.

Soon after, we learned that Stubb had spent several hours playing golf with Trump. The unannounced meeting stunned Finland. Since when was our small country casually “in the room” with the big powers? They discussed many issues, including Ukraine. Stubb spoke frankly, warning that Putin cannot be trusted, yet managed not to alienate Trump. And then, almost casually, he secured American interest in buying Finnish icebreakers — at a time when Trump seemed hostile to nearly everyone except Putin. Trump even posted on Truth Social about strengthening ties between Finland and the U.S.

And now, at this latest summit, Trump’s tone is completely different. Even after meeting Putin, he speaks of giving Ukraine security guarantees alongside his European allies.

Why It Matters

Seeing our president at the table with the world’s most powerful leaders is exhilarating. Whenever he speaks, he is articulate, coherent, and brimming with historical depth — which he distills into words anyone can grasp.

Finland knows what it’s like to fight alone. In the Winter War, we faced the Soviet Union by ourselves. No one came to help. It feels fitting that today we refuse to let another nation face a similar struggle alone. And we’re proud that our president is helping to lead that effort.

Thanks for reading.

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