It's Not a Tumor

Remember the 1990 classic Kindergarten Cop? Arnold Schwarzenegger has a headache and the kid who always thinks about death says, “It might be a tumor.” Schwarzenegger replies, “It’s not a tumor. It’s not a tumor. At all.”

Well that’s what I’m reminded of when I tell you from the bottom of my heart and soul that what is happening in Gaza right now is not a genocide: It’s not a genocide. It’s not a genocide. At all.

If you don’t know the definition of genocide, you’re an idiot. But let’s clarify anyway. As defined by the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment on the Crime of Genocide and adopted by the U.N. General Assembly in 1948, genocide is “acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group.”

The first key clause, if I may, is “intent to destroy.” Genocide, in its most simple form, is when one group of people intends to utterly destroy another group. To completely fuck them up. To kill as many of them as possible. To wipe them off the face of the earth.

The Nazis wanted to kill every last Jew. Hutu extremists wanted to kill every last Tutsi. Their intent was clear and the destruction they wrought was severe.

So let’s start with Israel’s intent. Is it the intent of those in power in Israel to destroy Palestinians? To completely fuck them up? To kill as many of them as possible? To wipe them off the face of the earth?

Absolutely not.

How do we know this? Because, quite simply, if Israel wanted to kill every Palestinian, it could. Are you familiar with the Israeli Defense Force (IDF)? It is one of the best (per capita, arguably the best) militaries in the world. It won in 1948. It won in 1967. It won in 1973. It’s taken its lumps for sure but the IDF is one of the most formidable armies in the world and trust me when I tell you that if the IDF intended to commit a genocide against the Palestinian people, it could.

Before I go any further, let me be clear that I am not celebrating the IDF or militarism or war or anything else associated with people dying. I lament the fact that Israel has been in a near constant state of war since its founding. I lament the fact that Palestinians have bore the brunt of the IDF’s victories. I lament the fact that all Israelis (including the ultra-orthodox schmucks, inshallah) have to serve in the IDF. I lament the fact that the IDF even exists. I wish Israel could be like Costa Rica and not have an army, and that Israelis could walk around super chill saying pura vida rather than super upset saying kus emek (Arabic for “your mother’s pussy”).

But, unfortunately, Israel has and needs a military. And, unfortunately, Israel’s military is so strong that if it wanted to commit a genocide, it could. But, fortunately, it does not want to.

So how do I know it doesn’t want to? How can I, with any certainty, speak to the intent of the IDF? Well let’s start with numbers.

The Nazis killed approximately 11 million people in the Holocaust, 6 million of whom were Jews. Hutu extremists killed approximately 800,000 people during the Rwandan genocide, most of whom were Tutsis. As of June 26, 2024, Israelis have killed approximately 35,000 Palestinians. Not for one second am I saying 35,000 is insignificant. It’s significant. It’s tragic. It’s beyond tragic. But it’s not a genocide. The death toll in Gaza is less than 5% of what it was in Rwanda and less than .5% of what it was in the Holocaust.

Scale also matters. The Nazis killed 6 million of Europe’s 9 million Jews. 67% reflects an intent to destroy. Hutu extremists killed approximately 700,000 of Rwanda’s 1 million Tutsis. 70% reflects an intent to destroy. Israel has killed approximately 35,000 of Gaza’s 2 million Palestinians. Does 1.75% reflect an intent to destroy? Hold that thought.

The second key clause of the definition of genocide is “in whole or in part.” 1.75% is, ipso facto, “in part,” right?

Yes, but let’s consider geography. In the midst of frickin’ World War II, the Nazis painstakingly killed 6 million Jews across millions of square miles in Europe. Bravo. Rwanda is much smaller, only 10,000 square miles (about the size of Maryland), so that made the killing a bit easier. But Gaza is downright tiny: 140 square miles (about the size of Philadelphia). In such a convenient location, wouldn’t you expect someone perpetrating genocide to have killed a more sizeable “part” of the population than 1.75%?

Oh, but Israel hasn’t had enough time to kill more Palestinians, you argue. Time? Do you know how long it took for Hutu extremists to kill 800,000 people? Three months. I won’t bother doing the math of how many people died each day, but I’m sure we can agree that the Rwandan génocidaires’ intent was crystal clear, as was the Nazis’ (train schedules, gas chambers, etc.). If Israel intended to commit genocide, eight months would be more than enough time, particularly in such a densely populated area as Gaza.

The Nazis had time, intent, and technology. They not only benefited from their world-renowned German culture of efficiency, but they also had the best technology in the world, including but not limited to carefully constructed crematoria, a strong relationship with logistics companies such as IBM, and, my personal favorite, Zyklon B.

Rwandans had neither time nor technology but when there’s a will, there’s a way. You know how most Tutsis were killed during the Rwandan genocide? Machetes. That’s right, hundreds of thousands of people were slaughtered in less than three months by wild, crazy, and committed machete-wielding fanatics.

And then there’s the IDF, one of the strongest, most technologically advanced militaries in the world. It has the capacity to go from 35,000 to 350,000 in weeks, but it doesn’t want to. Technology, yes. Geography, yes. Intent, no.

There is intent, you say. It’s just that the world won’t allow Israel to do what it wants to do. Ok, get the fuck out of here with that shit. Israel goes to war when it wants to go to war. Israel builds settlements when it wants to build settlements. Israel violates U.N. resolutions when it wants to violate U.N. resolutions. Israel does all types of fucked up things because the U.S. is its sugar daddy and “nobody fucks with the Jesus” (Big Lebowski). If Israel wanted to commit a genocide, there is little the world could do to stop it.

Speaking of the world, can we talk about South Africa for a moment? It was the first country to officially accuse Israel of genocide and I believe it is important to spend a minute on why these salty, self-righteous bastards did what they did. In the ‘70s and ‘80s, Israel sold weapons to the Apartheid regime, and the people who were oppressed then are in power now, and they are still bitter. I get it. I do. Israel made a huge mistake in profiting off of others’ suffering, and I completely understand why South Africa is pissed. But pissed does not mean accurate. In fact, it usually means biased and inaccurate. So, South Africa, I’m sorry about Apartheid, I’m glad it ended, I’m glad you have a (deeply flawed) democracy, and I think it would be best if you shut the hell up and stopped making wild allegations against other (deeply flawed) democracies.

Back to the death toll for a moment: Of the 6 million Jews who died in the Holocaust, pretty much all of them were innocent civilians. Of the 800,000 Tutsis (and Tutsi “sympathizers”) who died in the Rwandan genocide, pretty much all of them were innocent civilians. Of the 35,000 Palestinians who have died since October, approximately 2/3rds of them were innocent civilians. 23,000 is terrible. 23,000 is tragic. 23,000 is beyond tragic. 23,000 also means “in part” is now closer to 1%. I challenge you, dear reader, to find another “genocide” in the history of the world in which only 1% of the civilian population was killed.

Hundreds of Chinese protestors were killed by government troops in one day in 1989. Was that a genocide? I’ll raise you: Approximately 150,000 Japanese civilians were killed by two bombs in three days in 1945. Was that a genocide? Raise you again: More than 1 million Vietnamese civilians were killed by thousands of bombs in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. Was that a genocide? We have to look at intent, we have to look at what “in part” really means, and we definitely have to look at context.

So let’s do that: Hamas is fully ensconced amongst the Palestinian civilian population. I know, I know, you’ve heard this argument a million times. But think about it for a second. The Germans plucked the Jews from society, transported them to remote, often rural locations, and killed them. Hutu extremists killed Tutsis wherever and whenever they could with zero shits given to collateral damage or innocent civilians. In fact, they were targeting innocent civilians. Israel is targeting extremists/militants/terrorists/rapists/bad guys who have completely embedded themselves in homes, businesses, schools, and, yes, even hospitals. In fact, they’re hiding under the civilian populations. (God damn geniuses.) One could therefore argue that Israel has done a good job of limiting civilian deaths to about 23,000. I won’t go so far as to make that argument, but I hope by this point we’re on the same page that what’s happening in Gaza is not a tumor, I mean genocide.

If you’re still not convinced, let’s talk about the trucks. Hundreds of aid trucks enter Gaza every week. Hundreds. Yes, that is fewer trucks than normal (there is a war going on, after all), but it’s still a lot. And, personally, if I were perpetrating a genocide, I wouldn’t let in one single truck. Letting trucks into Gaza, where Israel is allegedly committing a genocide, is like putting the Jews in Auschwitz, gassing them, incinerating them, and every other day or so bringing in train loads of borscht and matzah ball soup. Letting trucks into Gaza, where Israel is allegedly committing a genocide, is like forcing hundreds of Tutsis into a local church, setting the church ablaze, burying the charred bodies in a mass grave, and in the days before you burn them alive bringing them local coffee and cassava. Letting trucks into Gaza is either Israel’s ingenious genocide subterfuge or just another example of its desire to destroy Hamas and, if and when possible, lessen civilian suffering.

I haven’t even mentioned October 7th. May I? What group has ever needed an excuse to commit genocide? What group has ever waited to be attacked before it commits genocide? The Nazis planned the Holocaust for years. Hutu extremists imported weapons and disseminated propaganda for years. In contrast, everything happening in Gaza right now is a response to October 7th.

Actually, no, that’s wrong. I just realized that Israel has been planning this genocide in Gaza the entire time. Here was the plan: Accept a proposed Palestinian state containing Gaza in 1948; capture Gaza in 1967, occupy it, and build settlements; dismantle all settlements in and completely withdraw from Gaza in 2005; wait to be attacked in 2024; and then go buck wild. Yeah, that makes sense.

If what’s happening in Gaza is a genocide, it’s like no other genocide the world has ever seen. It is the most inefficient, ineffective, and idiotic genocide the world has ever witnessed.

I know, I know. You’re convinced. You agree. You’re with me. And you don’t care. You’re asking yourself why it matters if it’s a genocide or ethnic cleansing or a war or a just war or a counteroffensive or a tumor. I’ll tell you why it matters.

Because Israel sucks right now. It’s sucked for the last 20 years and it’s had major moments of suckiness for the last 100 years. It, like the United States, England, Russia, Japan, India, Egypt, South Africa, Brazil, and every other country in the world (except maybe Norway?) is far from perfect. It makes and has always made terrible mistakes.

Netanyahu is an absolute piece of shit and many people in the government right now are even bigger pieces of shit. They don’t care about Palestinians, and they certainly don’t support a Palestinian state. In fact, there are even those in the current government who very well might want to perpetrate genocide in Gaza, or at least look the other way if it occurred. But those voices are tempered by the majority of Israeli citizens and by those in the Israeli government who understand that neither Palestinians nor Israelis are going anywhere, and coexistence is the best and only option. We are right when we allege that Israel has been sucking, and we should demand accountability and progress. We are wrong when we allege that Israel is committing genocide, and we should demand truth and accuracy.

Ok, here’s why I really care: Because I care about history and I care about Israel’s place in it. I know Israel has already been and will always be criticized, if not downright condemned, for many of the mistakes it’s made. And I accept that. But I will not accept 50 years from now when someone writes a history book and states that Israel committed a genocide in Gaza in 2023 and 2024. The idea that a reasonable historian may one day write that makes me sad and mad, and I want my grandchildren to read the awful, terrible, tragic truth about the last eight months in Gaza, not inaccurate, politicized hyperbole.

I'm Dying

For 47 years, I never thought about death.

When I was 9, my grandpa was dying of a brain tumor and he moved to Denver to live with us for the final few months of his life. I remember one night I was in the bath and the water was warm, not hot. My grandpa came in to brush his teeth and forgot what he was doing. He stared down at the sink, frozen, for the longest few minutes of my life before my mom yelled upstairs to see what he was doing. He died shortly after, his funeral was sad, and I went back to playing baseball and video games.

When I was 19, my dad nearly died from a clot in his stomach. I flew home from college, visited him in the hospital for a couple days, and flew back. I was worried but optimistic. My dad got better and I went back to playing tennis and chasing girls.

When I was 29, I briefly considered my own death after attending the most wretched, soulless wedding in the history of wretched, soulless weddings. The rehearsal dinner was at a Maggiano’s in a strip mall, the groom was (is) a piece of shit, and I knew the marriage would last forever and be miserable the entire time. It was an existential moment for me, as I’d been with the Boss nearly five years at that point and needed to, as they say, shit or get off the pot. For the first time, I started thinking about death by asking what I was gonna do with the rest of my life.

When I was 39, my dad started dying of cancer. Though I talked to him on the phone nearly every day in the year leading up to his death, I rarely went to Colorado and I wasn’t that close to the details of his demise. I knew about the sores in his mouth after the first round of chemo but even now as I write, I can’t remember much else. The cancer wouldn’t go away and my dad called it quits after about a year when a tumor started growing out of his nose. We all went to say goodbye and I watched his heart stop after the doctors ramped up the morphine as much as they could. Less than a week later, I started what would become the most challenging job of my life and completely buried my head in the sand. I talked to my mom most days on the way home from work but we didn’t talk about my dad much. I, in particular, generally avoided the topic of death. I was busy with work and four kids, and mourning my dad’s death was, in theory, important but, in practice, painful and distracting.

When she was four years old, Panini (15) went to a museum exhibit on Pompeii and cried herself to sleep for the next few months cuz, for the first time, she understood that death was real and that, at some point, it was coming for her.

None of that stuff ever mattered to me. Jaws didn't scare me and cancer was for the birds. I've always felt like the Black Knight from Monty Python's The Quest for the Holy Grail who, after getting two arms and one leg chopped off, yells, "I'm invincible!"

But then this past year, it hit me: I'm not invincible.

I'm dying.

I recently got my first colonoscopy. Despite a few hemorrhoids, the colon looks good. But, see, my dad died of kidney cancer, my paternal grandpa died of colon cancer, and my maternal grandpa died from a brain tumor, so let’s just say it runs in the family, I’m at high risk, and I'm probably dying of undiagnosed colon cancer.

If I'm not dying of colon cancer, I'm probably dying of diabetes. Last summer I went to the doctor for aforementioned colonoscopy referral and because I hadn't been to a medical professional since I was 18 (because those who are immortal don't go to the doctor), he decided to do a full check-up, including blood work. He discovered and informed me that my sugar levels were too high and that I was officially pre-diabetic. Pre-diabetes is pretty much the same as diabetes and diabetes is the number #1 killer in our country, so by the transitive property unless I stop grabbing handfuls of Crunch Berries, I am dying.

I recently got sick and it lasted for almost a week because I'm middle-aged, my immune system isn't what it used to be, and, well, I'm dying. I also refuse to take medicine because taking medicine would be an acknowledgement that I need medicine, and if I acknowledge needing medicine now, then fast forward 30 years and I’ll have one of those pill boxes with my daily meds which I need to take or else I’ll die.

I have the hips of an octogenarian, my thumbs hurt from texting, and I need to lift weights once a week or my little Auschwitzy body starts atrophying. I am vigilant about pruning my fungus-infused toenails and I have a reminder in my phone to cut my ear and nose hair on the first of each month. Sometimes it occurs to me to masturbate not because I’m horny but because a good friend of mine says that if I don't, I'll get prostate cancer and die.

I'm tired all the time. I get migraines if I don't eat, drink, or sleep enough, I fall asleep grading papers at my desk, and I nap in my car at work. On Thursday afternoons, in particular, you can often find me in the fully reclined passenger seat of a blue Nissan Leaf in the school parking lot. On Wednesday nights, due to low-intensity tennis and the consumption of one full beer, I get six hours of sleep rather than the mandatory eight, so I am barely functional on Thursdays. From the second I wake up, I am obsessed with my forthcoming nap, so much so I that I so carefully deliberate over my parking spot at 7:40am because if direct sunlight were to hit the passenger seat between 1:30pm and 2:30pm, my nap would be interrupted, I would get a migraine, and I would die.

I've given up on self-improvement (as dying people often do) and have thrown whatever remaining time and energy I have into teaching Panini how to hit a slice backhand and Broosevelt (10) how to shoot with his left hand. As you know from previous posts, they're no good, but I'm still way too emotionally involved and often wake up in the middle of the night obsessing over why they care so little, why I care so much, and how if Broosevelt doesn’t start wearing a cup when he plays baseball, he’ll get hit in the balls, he won’t be able to have kids, and the family name will die when I die.

I’m declining cognitively. I can't remember the names of any of OG's (13) friends. I read more slowly than I used to and the National Geographics are piling up. Word retrieval has never been my strength but it is now officially a weakness: In the past couple days alone, I couldn't remember the words "merge" or "silverware."

I’m way too emotional, perhaps because the Boss and/or I are perimenopausal. I cry watching Ted Lasso, the rage I feel when Broosevelt swings at a bad pitch seems unhealthy, and I get absolutely apoplectic when the Boss leaves a cabinet open in the kitchen.

I have one foot in the grave professionally. My students used to feel like younger sisters and brothers. Then they became my nieces and nephews. Now I’m older than most of their parents, they tease me for wearing my reading glasses, they give me blank stares when I reference Sixteen Candles or A Few Good Men, and they apply new meanings to old words such as sell, cap, and drip. I pity my students, I hate their stupid, anxiety-ridden, enabled/disabled generation, and I should probably stop teaching and start "volunteering" aka dying.

I’m psychologically trapped. As death is now imminent, I feel an urgency to write more, play more, live harder, etc. but I also feel the weight of death and the hopelessness of survival, so I don’t do any of those things cuz what’s the point. I'm obsessed with clickbait articles in my AppleNews trough such as "Can this Chinese fruit curb aging?" but I don't follow any of the advice. There's a safety recall on aforementioned Nissan Leaf but I refuse to take it to the dealer because I want it all to end like Thelma & Louise.

I'm all alone. The Boss tells me she loves me but is asleep by 9:45 every night after she and Panini watch Bridgerton without me. At Boni’s (10) soccer games, I sit as far as possible from the other parents. I don't play beer pong with the other 4th grade dads because I don't like beer pong or 4th grade dads. The only "friends" I do have are forced to see me every week because I reserve their tennis courts. Most Fridays end with a solitary walk-about in my neighborhood and falling asleep on the couch by myself halfway through an episode of an erotically underwhelming episode of Game of Thrones.

But worst of all, the true sign that I am old, alone, and dying is that my own children have abandoned me. I used to feed them, bathe them, and wipe their little butts. I used to take them to the blue park, make them peanut butter and honey sandwiches, and read them Goodnight Moon before they went to bed. We used to have Michael Jackson dance parties, play "Somebody That I Used to Know" on the piano together, and watch Goonies for family movie night.

Now they wipe their own butts and take out the Barbecue Lay’s whenever they want. Now they’re on their devices playing Fortnite or watching TikTok. Now they only talk to me when they need $10 or a ride to the Red Line. Broosevelt's the only one left who will still shower with me.

I find myself holding on for dear life to the 13-minute car ride to school with Panini each morning. I’m usually annoyed at her for being a couple minutes late and I shame her for her short shorts. She gives me a grade for the U-turn I make after we come out of the alley. Sometimes we listen to NPR and talk about Gaza, and sometimes we listen to 104.3 and "Back That Ass Up." Sometimes she gets mad at me for being so tired and quiet, and sometimes she lets me pet her head. Sometimes we argue over who gets to wear the giant sunglasses I keep in my car. Sometimes, randomly and sweetly, she says "Hello" and gently touches my cheek with her index finger. When I drop her off at school, she always asks to stay in the car for "just one more minute." I say no because I have to get to work but really I’m saying no because our time together is ending anyway cuz she’ll be off to college in two years and we won’t be able to drive to school together anymore and then I’ll never ever see her again and I’ll be all alone and dead.

At least sometimes I let her wear the sunglasses.