The Universal Declaration of Human Rights: A Lie We Keep Repeating

On December 10, 1948, the nations of the world stood together—fresh off the wreckage of World War II—to promise each other: 

Never again. Never again the gas chambers, the genocides, the state-sponsored extermination of peoples. They signed the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, a document full of lofty words, solemn promises, and moral posturing. And then they proceeded to break every single article. Repeatedly. Mercilessly. Systematically.

Seventy-six years later, the Declaration is not a beacon of justice—it’s a monument to the world’s collective hypocrisy. It stands not as a guide for humanity, but as a cover-up: a sacred scroll we wave in one hand while the other drops bombs, funds dictatorships, and signs arms deals. The reality? Genocide is alive and well. Not hidden. Not subtle. Not a relic of the past—but a practice of the present.

Gaza: A Genocide Broadcast Live

Let’s name it clearly. What is happening in Gaza is genocide. Call it what it is, stop playing diplomatic charades. Over 2 million people—96% of the population—are starving, blockaded, bombed, and buried beneath rubble. Entire neighborhoods have been erased. Children die before they can learn to read. On October 2, 2024, a coalition of American doctors reported to President Biden that 62,413 people had died of starvation. The number has surely grown since then. But where is the outrage? Where is the intervention? Where is the global “never again”?

Instead, we get platitudes. Toothless condemnations. Media silence. International cowardice. The so-called civilized world watches from a distance—wringing its hands, then washing them clean.

Let’s not be naïve. Gaza is not a policy failure. It is a policy choice. It is the price of power maintained, alliances preserved, and weapons tested. Gaza is where international law goes to die, and where the mask of human rights falls off completely.

West Papua: The Forgotten Genocide

And Gaza is not alone. Across the ocean, in the mountains and jungles of West Papua, another genocide unfolds—slower, quieter, but no less brutal. Since 1963, the Indonesian military has occupied this land, rich in resources and home to the Indigenous Melanesian people who have lived there for over 50,000 years.

Over six decades, estimates suggest that between 100,000 and 1.5 million Papuans have been killed. Entire communities have been razed. Villages burned. Women raped. Activists disappeared. Children shot. It is a campaign of ethnic cleansing that aims to wipe out Papuan identity, culture, language, and resistance.

As of today, 83,000 people are displaced inside the country. Thousands more have fled into exile—mainly to Papua New Guinea—escaping the barrel of Jakarta’s guns and the complicit silence of the West.

You won’t hear about this on CNN. There are no global hashtags. No celebrity campaigns. Why? Because West Papua has no strategic value to the West beyond gold, gas, and timber. Because the victims are Black and Indigenous. Because the murderers are allies.

State Violence Is the System

Let’s not pretend we’re dealing with isolated cases. Genocide is not a glitch in the system—it is the system. It is what happens when empires are threatened, when profits are endangered, when land becomes more valuable than lives.

From Gaza to West Papua, from Sudan to Myanmar, the logic is the same: dehumanize, displace, destroy. And when people resist? Call them terrorists. Bomb them harder. Criminalize their survival.

The institutions that are supposed to protect human rights—the UN, the ICC, the so-called “international community”—have become guardians of the status quo. They issue reports. They hold press briefings. They watch—and do nothing.

Resistance Is the Only Option

So what now? Wait for governments to grow a conscience? Trust the same powers who arm the killers and bury the evidence?

No. The time for illusions is over. The only hope lies in organized, militant, global civil resistance. Not symbolic protests, not polite petitions—but sustained, coordinated, disruptive action. Boycotts. Divestments. Sanctions from below. Direct support for liberation movements. The building of a new internationalism—one that does not bow to borders, nor kneel before empire.

If genocide is state-sponsored, then anti-genocide action must be people-powered. It must rise from the grassroots—from churches and mosques, from students and workers, from artists and dissidents. From those who refuse to look away, and who refuse to stay silent.

Build a Culture of Nonviolence—by Breaking the Silence

This doesn’t mean naïve pacifism. Nonviolence is not passive. It is not weakness. It is disobedience. It is the refusal to be complicit. It begins with truth-telling, even when it’s dangerous. It begins with naming the genocides happening right now—Gaza, West Papua, and beyond. It begins with taking sides—not for states, but for the people they try to crush.

Yes, we need a culture of nonviolence. But let’s be clear: that culture is incompatible with apathy. With neutrality. With silence. As Desmond Tutu said: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”

Which side are you on?

History will not judge us by our words, but by our choices. By whether we stood with the oppressed—or stood by while they were annihilated.

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights was written in ink. But today, it is rewritten in blood. If we want a different future, we must fight for it. No one else will.