Benjamin Netanyahu speaks at the United Nations
There are moments in history when we are called upon to pause, reflect, and confront the troubling realities of how far humanity can deviate from its noble intentions. One such moment lies before us now, as the finds itself embroiled in a grotesque distortion of truth.
The United Nations, long criticised for its diminishing role as a moral arbiter, has once again revealed the depths of its political bias. Its latest decision to refuse the renewal of Alice Wairimu Nderitu’s contract as the Special Advisor on the Prevention of Genocide is both disheartening and deeply troubling.
Ms. Nderitu, a respected Kenyan mediator and a globally recognised voice in peacebuilding, is being dismissed — not for incompetence, but for her refusal to politicise the term “genocide” in the context of ’s war with .
Ms. Nderitu’s tenure, which began in 2020, has been marked by a steadfast commitment to precision and integrity. Her office’s 2022 guidance paper on the use of the term “genocide” cautioned against its frequent misuse, noting the political and legal ramifications of applying it incorrectly.
Her insistence that ’s actions in Gaza do not meet the criteria of genocide has now made her a target for removal, exposing a troubling willingness within the UN to bend the truth for political convenience.
The decision to oust Ms. Nderitu is part of a broader pattern of hostility toward within the United Nations. For years, the UN has allowed itself to become a platform for disproportionate and often unfounded criticism of the Jewish state. But this moment marks a dangerous escalation: when integrity clashes with ideology, integrity is being shown the door.
The accusations of genocide against are not just baseless — they are a deliberate distortion of international law. The term “genocide” is among the most serious charges that can be levelled against a nation, carrying immense political and legal weight.
Applying it recklessly undermines its meaning, trivialising the horrors faced by real victims of genocidal regimes throughout history. Ms. Nderitu’s refusal to play along with this farce should have been commended as a defence of intellectual rigour. Instead, it has been punished.
Let us begin with a little context, for without it, the full absurdity of these claims might not be immediately apparent. Genocide is, quite rightly, regarded as one of the gravest crimes known to humankind. It conjures images of the , the Rwandan massacres, or the atrocities in Srebrenica.
The word is a moral alarm bell, a term imbued with the power to galvanise the global community into action. Yet, like all powerful tools, it is vulnerable to misuse — and when wielded irresponsibly, it ceases to be a call to justice and becomes instead a weapon of injustice.
And so we find ourselves here, in a peculiar hall of mirrors where Hamas — the group that, lest we forget, initiated the barbarism of October 7 by slaughtering over 1,400 Israelis, abducting civilians, and gleefully broadcasting their atrocities — manages to escape meaningful scrutiny. Meanwhile, , a democratic state exercising its legitimate right to self-defence, is accused of genocide.
This is not just a matter of bad faith; it is an assault on the very concept of truth itself. The United Nations, once envisioned as a sanctuary of reason and justice, has, in this instance, allowed itself to become a stage for political theatre.
The accusation of genocide against is not an isolated error but part of a broader trend in which facts are sacrificed at the altar of ideology. The narrative crafted here is as cynical as it is dangerous: it reframes a nation defending itself against terror as a pariah to be condemned, and those who perpetrate atrocities as the aggrieved.
The crux of the matter lies in the dangerous human tendency to dismiss truths that are inconvenient or that clash with pre-existing beliefs. For many, accepting that exercises extraordinary restraint in its military operations — employing measures such as leafleting, text messages, and “roof-knocking” warnings to protect civilian lives — is unpalatable.
Why? Because it disrupts the ideological story they have come to embrace, in which is forever the villain, no matter the evidence to the contrary.
When ideology becomes the prism through which facts are filtered, we do not just risk distorting the narrative; we destroy the possibility of meaningful discourse. To accuse of genocide — while Hamas embeds its fighters among civilians, uses hospitals as command centres, and proudly declares its intent to annihilate the Jewish state — is to invert the moral universe.
It is not just false; it is grotesque.
Such claims do more than damage . They undermine the very institutions that propagate them. If the United Nations allows itself to become a megaphone for unfounded accusations, its ability to address genuine cases of genocide and human rights abuses elsewhere is fatally compromised.
By crying wolf against , these officials do not elevate their cause; they debase it. Moreover, this contortion of reality has consequences far beyond the diplomatic chambers. It emboldens the perpetrators of violence, who see their actions cloaked in the language of righteousness. It also poisons the well of international discourse, making it increasingly difficult for reasonable, truth-driven dialogue to flourish.
The uncomfortable truth is this: facts are not optional. They are not malleable playthings to be reshaped according to ideological preference. They are the foundation of justice, and to abandon them is to abandon the very principles upon which civilisation depends.
For those of us who cherish intellectual honesty, the challenge is clear. We must resist the seductive simplicity of ideological narratives and grapple with the messy, complex, and often inconvenient truths of the real world. Yes, , like any other state, is not above reproach and should be held accountable for its actions where warranted.
But accountability demands a rigorous commitment to facts — not fantasies. We should stand resolutely against this grotesque perversion of truth. To accuse of genocide is not merely to insult the Jewish state; it is to trivialise the very concept of genocide itself. It dishonours the memory of real victims of such crimes and diminishes the moral clarity required to confront genuine atrocities.
The stakes in this debate could not be higher. If truth becomes negotiable — if facts can be casually discarded when they are inconvenient — then we lose more than just the argument about .
We lose the ability to have any argument at all. We slip into a world where might makes right, where narratives trump evidence, and where the most morally bankrupt players dictate the terms of engagement.
So, let us insist upon truth, even when it is inconvenient. Let us challenge those who twist facts to suit their ideologies and hold accountable those who abuse the language of human rights for political gain. And let us do so not merely to defend , but to defend the integrity of reason, justice, and the institutions that ought to uphold them.
To stand idly by as truth is bent to breaking is to be complicit in its destruction. And for all of us, that would be a price far too high to pay.