Bullets kill witnesses... but they cannot silence the truth

By murdering those who report the news, the word does not die; it is transformed into an eternal symbol that defies oblivion and the passage of time. In northern Gaza, near the entrance to Al-Shifa Hospital, where Anas Al-Sharif and Muhammad Qariqah were killed, not only were two journalists killed, but a dream of free truths that illuminate the paths in the darkness was also murdered, a dream of resistance through words in the face of the machinery of death that seeks to strip truth of its soul and erase the Palestinian collective consciousness.

This attack cannot be understood as a simple cold military act, but as a war against conscience itself, an attempt to eliminate the witnesses who bring the vision of the world to the heart of hell, an attempt to silence the voice that unmasks the falsehood of power and redraws the contours of resistance. 

This war against witnesses has a profound philosophical dimension: it is a conflict between existence and nothingness, between truth and superficiality, between memory and oblivion. Events are not mere temporal facts, but symbols that express an existential crisis facing human beings when they are caught up in the whirlwind of death and displacement, trying to preserve their identity in the midst of the crucible of collapse. And the murderer, despite all his efforts, is unaware of an essential philosophical truth: collective memory is not a static record, but a living being that feeds on pain and is reborn from the ashes of defeat to rebuild resistance with an indomitable will. Therefore, killing the witnesses is nothing more than a desperate attempt to tear out the roots of truth, but these are deep roots that no death machine can pull out of the ground.

In this context, the battle of Gaza becomes a broader symbol in the history of peoples, where the pain of the present is intertwined with a long legacy of oppression and conflict. It is a lesson in the philosophy of history, which asserts that violent events do not erase the past, but shape the present of the future, and that any attempt to hide it is doomed to failure, because when the truth survives, it becomes even more determined to make itself present.

Here psychology and history converge: killing the journalist is an attempt to wound the social conscience, but the conscience responds with deeper wounds in the body of injustice, and the saga continues, incomplete, until victory is achieved through words, memory and resistance.

It is the story of human beings who face death without fear, because free speech, even when shaken by the bullets of tyranny, remain eternal in thought and in the collective spirit, illuminating paths to freedom, immortalising martyrs, turning crime into a light that never goes out, memory into an epic and blood into a living testimony that truth will triumph, no matter how long the night.

Abdelhay Korret, Moroccan journalist and writer