GENOCIDE IN GAZA

Norman Finkelstein and the Collapse of the World’s Moral Standards

Introduction: “Never Again” for Everyone, Not Just Some

Few phrases in human history carry as much moral and historical weight as “Never Again.” It emerged from one of the darkest chapters in human history, a period in which millions of people were persecuted, deprived of their rights, and targeted for destruction because of who they were. But the decisive question is this: Has the lesson of that catastrophe truly become part of humanity’s moral conscience, or is this principle, in practice, invoked only when the victims belong to a particular group?

Professor Norman Finkelstein, a political scientist, author, and one of the most outspoken critics of Israel’s policies toward Palestinians, answers this question unequivocally: “Never again to everyone, not just the Jews. Never again to everyone.”

This statement is not merely a moral slogan. It is the key to understanding Finkelstein’s position on Gaza and the standard by which he evaluates governments, media coverage, and the conduct of international institutions. For him, the historical suffering of one people must never become a political privilege that allows the suffering of another people to be ignored. On the contrary, the deeper our historical memory, the greater our moral responsibility to prevent such atrocities from happening again.

During his television interview, Finkelstein recalls that both his parents were deported from the Warsaw Ghetto to the Majdanek concentration camp. His father eventually ended up in Auschwitz, while his mother was imprisoned in other forced-labor camps. According to Finkelstein, virtually every other member of his extended family on both sides was murdered. This family history profoundly shaped his worldview.

The significance of this background lies not in the idea that the suffering of one family can, by itself, determine the final judgment on every political issue. Rather, it lies in the moral principle Finkelstein draws from that history: no human being should be excluded from the circle of moral concern and protection because of their national, ethnic, or religious identity.

From this perspective, defending Palestinian rights is neither a denial of Jewish historical suffering nor an act of indifference toward the victims of the October 7 attacks. On the contrary, it is a defense of a world in which no historical catastrophe becomes a license to disregard the rights of other human beings.

This is where Finkelstein’s argument reveals its moral force: if “Never Again” is a universal principle, its true test comes when today’s victims belong to a group whose suffering powerful political actors would rather minimize or overlook.

1. Gaza: Why Finkelstein Refuses to Call It a War

The central argument in Finkelstein’s interview is his fundamental objection to describing the destruction of Gaza as the ordinary consequence of war. Responding to satellite imagery and reports documenting the extensive devastation of the territory, he states: “There was no war in Gaza. There was an extermination in Gaza. There was a systematic destruction in Gaza.”

This assertion forms the foundation of his analysis. Finkelstein does not want the discussion to remain limited to the number of damaged buildings, the death toll, or the intensity of military operations. He wants to raise a more fundamental question: What has been targeted? What is the relationship between military objectives and civilian infrastructure? And when the foundations of an entire society’s ability to sustain life are destroyed on such a vast scale, can the situation still be understood within the conventional framework of war without examining the nature of that destruction?

During the interview, Finkelstein cites figures suggesting that 97 percent of schools, 92 percent of economic infrastructure, and two-thirds of hospitals had been destroyed. These figures are presented here as statistics cited in his remarks; independent assessment would require consulting the original sources and the dates on which they were published. Nevertheless, the central point of his argument does not depend on any single number. It concerns the cumulative effect of the destruction.

A school is not merely a collection of walls and classrooms. It represents children’s access to education and a society’s ability to rebuild its future. A hospital is not simply a building; it is a place of refuge for the wounded, the sick, and those who need medical care even under normal circumstances. Economic infrastructure is not merely capital and equipment; it enables people to work, earn a living, and provide for their families.

When these structures are destroyed on a massive scale, the consequences do not end when the attacks stop. Children who lose their schools, patients who lose access to medical facilities, and families whose homes and livelihoods are destroyed may face the consequences for years. Assessing such a situation therefore requires more than counting destroyed military targets or relying on the official claims of the parties involved. It also requires examining the impact on the civilian population’s ability to continue living.

Finkelstein invokes the principle of distinction under international humanitarian law, which requires parties to distinguish between combatants and civilians, as well as between military objectives and civilian objects. He argues that the reports he has examined point not to a series of conventional battles, but to widespread destruction of civilian infrastructure.

From a legal standpoint, however, the scale of destruction or the number of casualties alone is not sufficient to establish genocide. The crime of genocide requires specific elements, including the special intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group as such. Yet this distinction does not make Finkelstein’s questions irrelevant. On the contrary, it underscores the importance of carefully examining the pattern of attacks, statements by officials, conditions imposed on the civilian population, and the consequences of those conditions.

The strength of Finkelstein’s position lies in his refusal to allow the word “war” to become an automatic explanation for every form of destruction. The fact that a situation constitutes a war does not exempt any party from complying with international law. Even when a government claims to be fighting an armed group, it must still answer questions about the legitimacy of its targets, its methods of attack, the protection of civilians, and the proportionality of its actions.

For this reason, his argument cannot be dismissed as a mere dispute over terminology. He is attempting to shift the world’s attention away from the official narrative of military operations and toward their human consequences. People who lose their homes, hospitals, schools, and the possibility of living ordinary lives must not disappear behind military terminology and official statements.

2. From State Responsibility to Societal Responsibility: Why Finkelstein Does Not Limit the Problem to Netanyahu

One of Finkelstein’s most controversial arguments is that what has happened in Gaza should not be portrayed solely as a project belonging to Benjamin Netanyahu and a handful of far-right figures. He argues that explanations assigning all political responsibility to Netanyahu, Itamar Ben-Gvir, and Bezalel Smotrich provide an incomplete picture of the situation.

In his view, it is necessary to examine the relationship between government decisions and the broader political and social environment in which those decisions become possible. He claims that support for military policies and pressure on Gaza’s civilian population have existed across a substantial part of Israeli Jewish society, with serious opponents of this approach representing only a small minority. During the interview, he estimates that this minority may account for around five percent of the population. This figure should be understood as his own estimate, not as an independently established statistical fact.

The significance of his argument lies in a fundamental political question: Would replacing the prime minister necessarily change a country’s policy toward the Palestinians?

Finkelstein’s answer is no. In his view, another leader might use more moderate language, manage media appearances more carefully, or show greater sensitivity to criticism from Western governments. But such changes would not necessarily mean a fundamental shift in Israel’s underlying policies toward the Palestinians. In other words, a change in tone should not be confused with a change in substance.

This distinction is important for understanding politics. Public debate often becomes focused on individual leaders and their inflammatory statements, creating the impression that removing one person will automatically resolve the problem. Yet if political structures, power alliances, long-standing policies, and prevailing assumptions about Palestinian rights remain unchanged, a change of leadership may simply alter the way those policies are presented.

Nevertheless, a careful assessment must distinguish between supporting a policy, remaining silent about it, and bearing criminal responsibility for it. People cannot all be held equally responsible simply because they share a nationality or social identity. Criminal responsibility requires examining individual conduct, roles, evidence, and the relevant legal standards. Even at the political level, societies are not monolithic; internal disagreements, protests, and opposition must also be acknowledged.

This qualification does not invalidate the central question raised by Finkelstein. If a destructive policy continues for an extended period, can all responsibility reasonably be attributed to one leader while the role of institutions, public attitudes, and political support is ignored?

A serious defense of Palestinian rights requires confronting this question. Justice does not begin and end with identifying the individuals who issued orders. It also requires examining decision-making processes, systems of support, and the factors that allow violations of human rights to continue.

The political value of Finkelstein’s analysis therefore lies in his call to move beyond reducing the problem to a single individual. If the problem is only one prime minister, replacing that prime minister may appear to be the solution. But if the problem is deeper and more entrenched, meaningful change will require transforming policies, standards of accountability, and attitudes toward Palestinian rights.

3. October 7 and Gaza: Why One Crime Cannot Justify Another

Any serious discussion of Gaza must address October 7, 2023. During the interview, Finkelstein describes the attacks that day as horrific and acknowledges the gravity of the killings. He cites a figure of approximately 1,200 people killed, including around 850 civilians. These are figures he refers to in the interview. His position, therefore, cannot accurately be summarized as ignoring the suffering of Israeli victims or rejecting the principle that attacks on civilians must be condemned.

However, he strongly opposes turning October 7 into a justification for every action subsequently taken against Gaza.

The logic of this argument is clear: condemning one crime does not grant the opposing party unlimited authority. If killing civilians is wrong, that principle must remain valid under all circumstances. If hostage-taking and attacks on people not participating in hostilities are condemnable, the same standard must apply to Palestinian civilians. No population should be collectively deprived of legal and moral protection because of crimes committed by others.

Finkelstein challenges the logic of collective retaliation—the idea that the genuine suffering of the victims of an attack can be used to legitimize a catastrophe inflicted on another population. From his perspective, the central question is how one tragedy can be transformed within political discourse into a justification for another.

This point is particularly important in the context of international humanitarian law. Parties to an armed conflict remain obligated to distinguish between civilians and combatants and to refrain from unlawful attacks against civilians. The responsibility of an armed group does not eliminate the legal obligations of the opposing party, just as violations committed by a state do not justify attacks on civilians by armed groups.

Later in the interview, Finkelstein discusses media coverage of allegations of sexual violence during the October 7 attacks, including the New York Times report “Screams Without Words.” He argues that the issue acquired an exceptionally prominent place in the political and media narrative surrounding October 7 and, in some instances, became a test of people’s moral positions. According to him, questioning the evidence behind these allegations can quickly expose critics to serious accusations.

Finkelstein also claims that sufficient evidence has not been presented to establish that rape and sexual violence occurred during the October 7 attacks. This is one of his most serious and controversial assertions. It should be presented as his position in the interview, not treated as a historically or legally settled conclusion simply because it is repeated. Assessing such claims requires careful examination of original reports, methods of evidence collection, testimony, independent investigations, and the findings of competent authorities.

Nevertheless, the broader questions Finkelstein raises remain important regardless of the eventual conclusions reached about any particular allegation. Do the media and governments assess evidence according to consistent standards? Are some claims accepted more readily because they fit a preferred political narrative? And should critical examination of evidence be met with documented responses, rather than attacks on the character of those raising questions?

In a free society, no serious allegation should be immune from scrutiny. This principle applies both to allegations concerning October 7 and to claims about the conduct of Israeli forces in Gaza. Empathy for victims should not come at the expense of evidentiary rigor, just as skepticism toward a particular report should not become an excuse to deny the suffering of other victims.

Finkelstein believes that the selective emphasis placed on certain allegations can divert public attention from the broader scale of violence and its consequences. Defending accountability requires ensuring that no party can use its own genuine suffering to make scrutiny of its actions illegitimate.

Supporting Finkelstein’s central argument, therefore, does not require accepting every claim he makes without question. It means defending the standard he emphasizes: no political narrative should replace the examination of evidence, and no crime should become a license to violate the rights of other human beings.

4. The International Court of Justice: The Gap Between Legal Language and Political Reality

One of the most significant sections of the interview concerns Finkelstein’s criticism of certain figures associated with the International Court of Justice, one of the United Nations’ principal judicial bodies for resolving disputes between states.

In his book Gaza’s Gravediggers, Finkelstein examines the dissenting opinions of Judge Julia Sebutinde and the positions of Joan Donoghue, who served as president of the Court during part of the proceedings. Finkelstein is sharply critical of Sebutinde and makes serious allegations concerning the motivations behind, and the credibility of, some of her legal writings. He raises possibilities including corruption, pressure, and blackmail. These are Finkelstein’s allegations and should not be repeated as established facts without independent evidence.

His broader concern, however, extends beyond one judge. It concerns public confidence in the impartiality of international judicial institutions. Such confidence depends on judicial decisions being grounded in clear reasoning, examinable evidence, and coherent interpretations of the law. It also requires judicial officials to remain accountable when legitimate questions arise about their decisions.

Finkelstein also refers to statements made by Joan Donoghue during an interview on the BBC program Hardtalk. According to his account, after the Court’s decision of January 26, 2024, Donoghue said in a subsequent interview that the Court had not stated that Israel was plausibly committing genocide. Finkelstein considers this a blatant misrepresentation of the Court’s decision and believes that professional and career concerns may have influenced her remarks. Attributing such a motive to Donoghue, however, remains Finkelstein’s interpretation and would require independent evidence to establish.

To understand this dispute accurately, it is necessary to pay close attention to the legal language of the Court’s decision. The International Court of Justice did not issue a final ruling that genocide had occurred at the provisional-measures stage. However, in its January 26, 2024, decision, it found that at least some of the rights claimed by South Africa under the Genocide Convention were plausible and ordered provisional measures to protect the rights at issue.

This distinction is important. Finding that the rights asserted are plausible is not the same as issuing a final judgment that genocide has occurred. But this legal distinction does not mean the decision was insignificant or that the Court rejected the allegations altogether. Provisional measures are intended to prevent irreparable harm while a case is pending, and they should not be confused with a final determination of state responsibility.

The key point for Finkelstein’s argument is the need to adhere to precise legal language. If a court’s decision is interpreted as saying more than it actually says, the credibility of the discussion is undermined. If its findings are presented as less significant than they are, there is a risk of minimizing serious legal concerns.

International law can retain its credibility only if it does not become a propaganda tool for governments or remain merely a collection of formal expressions. The central question is whether legal standards are applied with the same seriousness to powerful states as they are to weaker ones.

This question lies at the heart of Finkelstein’s criticism of the international order. If states can evade accountability because of their political power and the support of their allies, confidence in international institutions will suffer. At the same time, critics who demand the enforcement of law must themselves adhere to accurate reporting of judicial decisions, distinguish allegations from proven facts, and avoid making unsubstantiated accusations.

Defending international justice requires neither treating institutions as infallible nor discrediting them through unproven allegations. The proper course is to demand transparency, precise legal reasoning, and equal accountability—the same standards that should apply to every state and every judicial official.

5. The Media and the Politics of Memory: Who Gets to Speak for the Victims?

An important point in Finkelstein’s interview is that he does not place responsibility solely on governments and militaries. He also examines the role of the media in shaping public opinion and determining which issues receive the greatest attention.

In his view, the media sometimes do more than transmit information; they help establish the frameworks through which events are interpreted. The language used to describe an event, the victims placed at the center of a narrative, the evidence given prominence, and the questions pushed to the margins can all influence how the public understands a crisis.

Finkelstein argues that allegations of sexual violence during the October 7 attacks acquired a prominent role in public discourse and were used, in his view, to justify Israeli policies. He also argues that America’s history and cultural sensitivities influenced the reception of certain narratives. This is his political interpretation of media coverage; a comprehensive assessment would require independently examining reporting, published evidence, and the development of public narratives.

Nevertheless, his questions about possible double standards in the media deserve serious consideration. Does the suffering of Palestinian civilians receive the same urgency and empathy as the suffering of Israeli civilians? Are the destruction of hospitals, schools, homes, and essential infrastructure given comparable attention? Are statements made by powerful officials examined with the same degree of skepticism as claims made by their opponents?

These questions should not be dismissed simply because they are political. Free media have a responsibility to scrutinize the claims of all parties, explain the broader context of events, and distinguish verified information from official allegations and political analysis. When these distinctions disappear, audiences risk receiving not a documented picture of reality, but narratives designed to generate political support.

In this context, the importance of Finkelstein’s criticism lies in his invitation to question the very process through which narratives are formed. Why do some forms of suffering become global symbols while others, despite their enormous scale, become passing news stories? Who determines which victims deserve public sympathy? And must attention to the suffering of one group come at the expense of another?

The ethical answer is clear: the value of human life must not depend on a victim’s national identity or their country’s political importance. Media organizations may have to make choices about which stories to cover, but those choices should be guided by professional standards, human significance, and the examination of evidence—not loyalty to a government or political alliance.

Finkelstein also argues that the political climate surrounding Gaza in the United States has changed significantly. He refers to polls which, according to his account, show that approximately 30 to 40 percent of American Jews believe Israel is committing genocide in Gaza. He also claims that support for Gaza, which once could have damaged a political candidate’s campaign, has become an advantage in some contests. He cites Zohran Mamdani as an example. These figures and assessments are presented in the interview; firm conclusions require examining the specific polls, their dates, and the circumstances of the relevant elections.

Even with that qualification, his analysis points to an important political development: positions that once carried a substantial political cost in certain circles are no longer necessarily viewed in the same way. Greater space for openly criticizing Israeli policies does not, by itself, mean there is a consensus on every issue concerning Gaza. It may, however, indicate a broader public debate and a weakening of the monopoly once held by a particular political narrative.

From this perspective, changing public opinion is not merely an electoral matter. When citizens, journalists, academics, and politicians can discuss Palestinian rights without the discussion being treated as illegitimate from the outset, more space opens up for examining evidence and demanding accountability.

6. Saudi Arabia, the Abraham Accords, and Palestine’s Place in Regional Politics

In another section of the interview, Finkelstein examines Gaza in the context of regional rivalries and efforts to expand the Abraham Accords. In his view, the October 7 attack and the war that followed complicated the path toward normalizing relations between Saudi Arabia and Israel. That process had been part of a broader American effort to expand regional cooperation and build an alliance countering Iran.

His argument is that normalization becomes more politically difficult for Riyadh when Gaza is experiencing widespread destruction and a humanitarian crisis. Unlike some smaller countries in the region, Saudi Arabia occupies a position whose decisions can have wider consequences across the Arab world. Publicly demonstrating cooperation with Israel in the midst of such a crisis could therefore carry significant political costs.

Finkelstein also refers to disagreements between Saudi Arabia and the Trump administration over support for Riyadh against the Houthis. He believes that these factors, alongside the consequences of the war in Gaza, reduced the likelihood of a major agreement being reached. This is his analysis of regional dynamics, not a definitive conclusion about the future decisions of the governments involved.

The more controversial part of his analysis concerns his interpretation of Hamas’s motivations for the October 7 attack. Finkelstein argues that one of the principal motivations was to prevent an agreement between Saudi Arabia and Israel—an agreement that, in his view, could have pushed the Palestinian question even further to the margins. This is his political interpretation, and determining how much weight it should be given requires examining other independent analyses, statements, and evidence.

Even if this interpretation is disputed, the broader question it raises remains important: Can regional political arrangements be considered sustainable if they leave unresolved the rights and future of the Palestinian people?

Here, Finkelstein’s position connects with a broader critique of regional diplomacy. Agreements between governments may transform economic, security, and political relations. But if the people whose lives are directly affected by those agreements remain deprived of fundamental rights, the moral legitimacy and political durability of such arrangements will remain in question.

Palestinians should not be reduced to a marginal issue in negotiations among regional powers. A people whose future is being negotiated must be recognized as the holders of rights and as political actors in their own right. A peace that rests solely on cooperation between governments while disregarding the rights of a people may produce an agreement on paper, but it will leave unresolved contradictions beneath the surface of regional politics.

From this perspective, the consequences of Gaza extend far beyond the territory itself. The war has demonstrated that the Palestinian question cannot simply be removed from regional politics through new alliances, diplomatic agreements, or changes in relations between governments. Until Palestinian rights are addressed, the issue will continue to affect the legitimacy and stability of regional arrangements.

7. The Two-State Solution: Who Should Bear Responsibility for Making It Impossible?

In the final part of the interview, Finkelstein addresses one of the most important questions concerning Palestine’s future: Is a two-state solution still possible?

His answer begins with a fundamental distinction between what appears practically possible and what should be pursued as a matter of political principle.

Finkelstein argues that Palestinians should continue to support a two-state solution grounded in international law: the establishment of a Palestinian state in the West Bank, including East Jerusalem, and the Gaza Strip. In his view, maintaining this position demonstrates that Palestinians are willing to accept a political settlement based on an established legal framework that recognizes their rights.

At the same time, he acknowledges the possibility that the expansion of Israeli settlements in the West Bank, the creation of new geographical realities, and the changes resulting from them may have made a two-state solution extremely difficult or even physically impossible.

The decisive point in his argument is that if a government’s policies eliminate the possibility of implementing a political solution supported by international law, responsibility for the consequences should not be placed on the people harmed by those policies.

Finkelstein expresses this logic directly: if Israel has made a two-state solution impossible through settlement expansion, it must accept responsibility for finding an alternative. He suggests that under such circumstances, a one-state solution, potentially a binational state, may become a serious question.

Politically, this argument seeks to prevent responsibility from being shifted onto the Palestinians. They should not be expected both to endure the consequences of policies that have harmed them and to be blamed for the failure of a political settlement. If the actions of one party undermine or eliminate the possibility of a legal and political framework, those actions and their consequences must be examined.

Finkelstein also rejects the idea that settlement expansion and territorial claims are confined to Israel’s far-right political factions. He argues that opposition to Palestinian statehood is rooted more deeply in Israel’s political establishment. During the interview, he claims that a large portion of Israeli society would not object in principle to the mass expulsion of Palestinians from the West Bank, even if some might consider such a policy politically impossible or too costly. This is his assessment, and evaluating the extent of public support for such positions requires specific, independent evidence.

Nevertheless, the fundamental question remains: Can peace be discussed meaningfully while settlement expansion and territorial claims continue to restrict the possibility of realizing Palestinian political rights?

Finkelstein’s position is that Palestinians should continue to demand their rights under international law and place responsibility for violations on the party that commits them. This position also functions as a political strategy: maintaining a clear legal demand makes it harder to shift responsibility for the failure of a political settlement onto the Palestinians.

Of course, the future of any political solution depends on numerous factors, including the will of the people, security guarantees, governance arrangements, and political agreements. Both the two-state solution and the one-state alternative face serious questions and challenges. But none of these complexities should be used as an excuse to disregard Palestinian rights or normalize a permanent condition of political deprivation.

The principle emphasized by Finkelstein is clear: lasting peace cannot be built by demanding that a people abandon its rights. Peace must be grounded in rights, equality, and accountability.

Conclusion: Gaza as a Test of the World’s Conscience

Norman Finkelstein’s interview can be understood as an attempt to disturb the world’s moral complacency—to force audiences to ask whether the standards proclaimed by governments and international institutions remain valid when they conflict with political interests.

Throughout the conversation, Finkelstein emphasizes several central points: the scale of Gaza’s destruction cannot be adequately explained by simply calling it a war without seriously examining its nature and objectives; political responsibility should not be limited to a single leader if broader structures have contributed to the continuation of these policies; crimes against civilians on October 7 cannot justify violations of the rights of Palestinian civilians; international institutions must be held to consistent standards; and no regional agreement can permanently remove the Palestinian question from the political equation.

There may be disagreements over some of his claims, statistical estimates, or interpretations of political motives. Some of his allegations against specific individuals also require independent evidence. But serious responses to such views must proceed through documented examination and clear reasoning, not by ignoring the fundamental questions they raise.

Ultimately, the strongest element of Finkelstein’s position takes us back to his family history. He does not draw from that history the conclusion that one people’s suffering is more important than another’s. Instead, he derives a universal responsibility from it. In his view, remembering the past has moral value only when that memory helps protect human beings in the present.

If commemorating historical victims is reduced to ceremonies, speeches, and slogans while the suffering of another people is ignored, historical memory risks becoming a selective political instrument rather than a guide to moral conduct.

Gaza confronts the world with a fundamental question: Does every human life have equal value, or does that value depend on the identity of the victim and the political status of the perpetrator? Is international law a shared body of principles, or a set of rules whose enforcement depends on the power of states? And is “Never Again” a genuine commitment to preventing human catastrophes, or merely a phrase recalled under particular circumstances?

Finkelstein urges us to move beyond easy answers and apply our standards consistently, regardless of political loyalties. Supporting Palestinian civilians does not require denying the suffering of Israeli civilians, just as condemning the October 7 attacks does not justify the widespread destruction of Palestinian life. Justice has meaning only when it crosses the boundaries of identity, power, and political alliances.

In a world where governments construct competing narratives to justify their actions, the moral principle must remain simple and unequivocal: no people should be deprived of the right to life, security, dignity, and freedom; no government should be immune from accountability because of its power or the support of its allies; and no victim should have to prove their identity or political loyalty before their suffering is recognized.

This is the deeper meaning of “Never Again”—the meaning Finkelstein connects to his family’s history and to the present-day debate over Gaza.

Never Again must truly mean never again for everyone. If this principle has no validity when applied to the suffering of the Palestinian people, the problem is not merely the failure of a policy or an institution. It is the failure of the very moral conscience that humanity claims to defend.