OCTOBER 10 — Every year, October 10 marks World Mental Health Day, a time to reflect on what it means to protect the mind and spirit in an increasingly fragile world. This year’s World Health Organization theme, “Mental health in humanitarian emergencies,” could not be more painfully relevant. When we speak of humanitarian catastrophe today, we are speaking of Gaza, Myanmar, Ukraine and more.
This is not abstract policy language. It is a reckoning with the generational trauma inflicted by atrocity, wherein children losing parents, doctors losing hospitals, and families losing the will to live. And to speak of Gaza truthfully requires moral precision. It is not merely “a conflict.” It is genocide. To call it anything less is to collaborate with silence.
In truth, neutrality is not neutrality at all. It is complicity — the quiet currency by which suffering is allowed to continue.
That is why the Global Sumud Flotilla matters. This international civilian mission to deliver life-saving aid, whilst challenging the unlawful blockade of Gaza, represents a profound act of defiance and solidarity. Over 50 vessels and delegations from more than 40 nations have taken part, united by the concept of ‘sumud’ — the Arabic word for steadfastness. Malaysians, too, joined this mission, showing that our moral compass has not yet been lost to apathy.
Yet closer to home, the reactions have revealed a deeper malaise. Amid global solidarity, some have mocked or discouraged a mission that seeks only to feed the starving and heal the wounded. When people post laughing emojis beneath news of genocide, it is not mere insensitivity. It is moral corrosion. This is not about religion; it is about humanity. To trivialise suffering is to stain one’s conscience.
The very act of denying or obstructing humanitarian aid is not a political stance. It is an active contribution to death. Since October 2023, more than 65,000 Palestinians have been killed and 165,000 injured, with millions displaced. These are not just numbers; they are the architecture of a genocide playing out in real time.
The health consequences are staggering and enduring. Science shows that starvation and extreme stress in childhood permanently alter the body — a phenomenon known as the Fetal Origin of Adult Disease (FOAD). Survivors of deprivation face lifelong risks of hypertension, diabetes and heart disease. Denying food and medicine, as the blockade does, is not a temporary weapon. It writes disease into the DNA of the next generation.
Meanwhile, Gaza’s collapsing healthcare system has triggered a surge of infectious diseases from chickenpox to meningitis, spreading through overcrowded shelters. This proves that the wound of genocide is biological, not metaphorical.
The psychological toll is equally devastating. Trauma leaves genetic fingerprints. Studies on Holocaust and Rwandan genocide survivors reveal that severe post-traumatic stress can alter the NR3C1 gene, which regulates stress response. These changes are inherited. The trauma of genocide, therefore, is not only remembered, it is transmitted. The children of Gaza will carry that burden in their biology long after the bombs stop falling.
This is why WHO’s focus on mental health in emergencies is both urgent and tragically contradicted by global policy. Despite rising needs, the world faces a US$200 billion gap in mental health funding. Deprived of food, shelter, security and psychological care, what is happening in Gaza is not just a humanitarian failure. It is a moral collapse of historic proportion.
When international institutions fail to protect, civil society takes to the sea. The Global Sumud Flotilla is not just about aid, it is about conscience. It is a rebuke to institutional inertia and the moral cowardice of governments that prefer to maintain “balance” instead of justice.
The choice before humanity is brutally simple. Either we act to open humanitarian corridors, to defend the right of aid to reach those in need, to rebuild the minds and bodies of a besieged people, or we become complicit in their destruction.
The stain of silence is not easily washed away. And history is already watching.
* This is the personal opinion of the writers or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.
