The Boy Who Cried Human Rights
Once upon a time, there was a powerful boy named America who stood at the edge of the world and cried, “Human rights! Human rights!” And the world listened. He marched against dictators, helped rebuild nations after war, and spoke boldly at the United Nations about justice, freedom, and equality. When villages far away were crushed by tyranny, the boy sent food, medicine, and even soldiers, claiming to stand for what was right. He helped end apartheid in South Africa, stood up to ethnic cleansing in the Balkans, and told the world that no one was above human dignity. So, when he spoke, people believed him. They looked to him not just for power, but for moral guidance — for courage in the face of cruelty. But one day, the wolf came. It came not from the forests of Europe or the deserts of Africa, but from the skies over Gaza. It came in the form of missiles, airstrikes, and blockades that swallowed entire families. The villagers cried out — their homes turned to rubble, their children buried beneath it — and they looked to the boy who had promised that freedom and justice belonged to everyone. America saw the flames. He saw the hospitals hit, the aid convoys stopped, the suffering broadcast to the world. But instead of rushing to protect the innocent, he hesitated. He looked at his oldest friend — Israel — the wolf dressed in familiar colors. He remembered shared weapons, shared votes, shared history. And […]