Notes to self in the midst of a genocide.

I remember my father talking about the 1950’s Cold War era. Working for an international peace organization, he lived in a double world: during the day, writing articles about the certainty of nuclear war within 10 years…and in the evenings writing applications for 30- year mortgages for the cooperative community he was helping to build. Both being true.

For those of us working across the world but living in ‘the west’, how do we navigate the awful irony of our present time: the atrocities committed daily in our names and with our money—for example in Gaza–and our daily lives, defined by the realities of the places in which we were born, or happened to end up?

Today, after a long day working on projects in DRC, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Palestine and Jordan, I headed home on the ferry crossing the river to Amsterdam Central Station. As I stepped off the ferry, there was a man, holding up a small sign: Stop the Genocide, Ceasefire Now. I had seen him there last week, and flashed an I-agree-thank-you gesture, and he had smiled in return. Today, I stopped and joined him for 10 minutes. He’s there every day, holding up his small sign, doing what he can do. He tells me that many people show gratitude and solidarity—it gives him hope. He gives me hope.

Keep going, people.

We must remember that our actions matter. That everything we do reverberates into the future. That the incredibly disheartening news coming out of Gaza is both new, and nothing new. The situation in DR Congo, the situation in Sudan– just as desperate. And what is the difference? That one of these conflicts is so visible to us, that, just maybe, we can do something about this one, now? Could this be the first modern atrocity where the world, having witnessed so much, finally stands up to stop it, rather than succumbing to another hopeless war?

In this heart-breaking time, we see the growth of huge movements on the streets all around the world, demanding an end to the killing, an end to occupation and apartheid, and a growing understanding of the connections to injustice and inequality everywhere. And while the killing has not ceased, it now has the attention of the whole world. That is the beginning of change.

Here’s the lesson: make it visible.
Make it audible.
Make it intolerable.
Own your grief, your rage, and your helplessness.
But don’t stop raising your voice.

And also, live your present. Build community, celebrate family, treasure friends. Use the energy of all of these to fuel your activism. Send money to Gaza, connect with others who care. Raise your voice. Keep moving. Be the alternative reality that we all want to create.

We musicians can make the sounds that reverberate across cultures and generations. Some of us can sing today’s songs, others will be there to help heal tomorrow’s wounds. We don’t have to do it all. But we do have to do our part.

Laura Hassler, April 2024