Title: Bullet Holes in the Oath: Israel’s War on Gaza’s Hospitals Isn’t Collateral, It’s Strategy
Listen up, the truth’s about to drop, and I don’t sugarcoat. We’re not talking vague battle zones and lost missile trajectories. We’re talking scalpels turned to shrapnel, gurneys turned to graves, and hospitals—yes, hospitals—caught in the crosshairs of occupation’s not-so-hidden hand. While the PR machines in Tel Aviv and Washington spin their wheels faster than a drone over Deir el-Balah, the facts, the grim, blood-splattered facts, scream a very different story.
Since October 2023, Israel’s bombardment of Gaza hasn’t just been a “military operation” — it’s been an anatomical dissection of Gaza’s already crippled healthcare system. And what do we call that, folks? Precision? No. This is political surgery with a sledgehammer.
Al-Shifa Hospital. The beating heart of Gaza’s healthcare lifeline. Turned into a theater of war, complete with tanks rolling through hallways and patients dying between operating tables and bulldozer tracks. Not once. Not twice. Multiple raids. Over and over — because apparently, when you can’t find your enemy, you make every sick child a suspect, and every incubator a potential threat.
Let’s call it what it is: strategic humiliation.
We were told there were “command centers under the hospital.” That Hamas was using patients as human shields. But here’s the catch: the evidence parade looks mighty thin. A rifle here, a tunnel shaft there – but none of the Hollywood-style terror lair we were promised. Meanwhile, infants died when the power went out because fuel was blocked. Doctors operated by flashlight. And Gaza’s healthcare workers? Saints in scrubs turned emergency undertakers.
Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis — same tragedy, new coordinates. Israeli forces besieged it, then stormed it. I’m talking forced evacuations of patients mid-treatment, and even mass graves inside the hospital courtyard. Gaza Strip’s second-largest medical facility reduced to a warzone selfie opportunity. Here’s a satirical thought: next time, maybe they’ll hand out IDF-branded scrubs and call it humanitarian aid.
Then came Al-Awda Hospital. Besieged for nearly two weeks—snipers in every shadow, ambulances turned away, staff trapped inside. Medical neutrality? That’s for Geneva. This is Gaza, where Red Cross rules are turned into confetti beneath tank treads.
And yet, the hits keep coming like it’s open mic night for disregard. Kamal Adwan, Indonesian Hospital, Al-Nasr, and let’s not forget the bombing of the Al-Ahli Arab Hospital – the blast that sparked global outrage and then global confusion as narratives flipped faster than a politician polling poorly. The debate isn’t if a hospital was struck — it’s who threw the punch. One thing’s clear: the punch landed, and babies died.
Let me be clear: this wasn’t war slipping past the guardrails. This was the erasure of healthcare as a pillar of survival for 2 million people under siege. You wanna win a war? Fine. But don’t turn doctors into targets and ambulances into ash and tell me it’s civilized conflict. That’s like setting fire to a lifeboat and blaming the drowning.
The international community? Mostly armchair condemnation and the same recycled “calls for restraint” that could double as white noise. Meanwhile, Gaza bleeds — in silence, in rubble, and now, in spreadsheets cataloging massacre by hospital wing.
So here’s the question to you, the audience sleeping through sirens: If the Hippocratic Oath is dying in Gaza, what does that say about our collective morality? Are we witnessing the death of war ethics—or just the live broadcast of a world that never cared in the first place?
The game’s on, and I play to win. But in this scenario? There are no winners — just architects of atrocity and those of us screaming into the deafening quiet of complicity.
Stay angry. Stay loud.
– Mr. 47
