"Evil" is Irrelevant
Israel took the word “evil,” ran it through a supply-chain dashboard, and executed it in Gaza.
No caped villain announced the crime, no melodramatic manifesto explained the motive. The deed unfolded in the quiet places where business happens. Spreadsheet cells tracked “acceptable” body counts. Machine-learning models weighed which family lived and which one vanished at dawn. Freight brokers penciled in cargo space for the next pallet of laser-guided bombs. Somewhere in London, actuaries priced refugee blood the way they price a coastal flood risk.
Gaza became a showroom, not a battlefield. Each pulverized apartment slipped into a spreadsheet column. Each charred limb nudged a targeting algorithm toward higher accuracy. Nights of engineered hunger entered quarterly reports as evidence that siege can be managed remotely, from a keyboard.
As this pipeline purred, the rest of the world reached for the word “evil” the way a drowning swimmer grasps at driftwood. Commentators drafted indignant statements. Hashtags bloomed and withered in social-media timelines. Essays arrived, polished and earnest, declaring the assault immoral, barbaric, unconscionable.
The words ricocheted off bulletproof glass.
The machinery that powers extermination simply doesn’t parse morality; it speaks only in contracts, compute seconds, container miles, and billable hours. Outrage registers as a minor delay the planners already priced into the workflow.
Cloud platforms continue metering GPU time.
Shipping clerks keep stamping forms.
Defense shares inch upward on news of replenishment orders.
University labs dutifully file progress reports for grants that funnel military cash into computer-vision research.
No one cackles. No one twirls a mustache. Thousands of well-mannered professionals click “approve” and push the next commit.
So the real task is no longer naming the horror. The task is rupturing the pipes that feed it. A freighter left to idle off-port, a row of servers that abruptly go dark, a research grant returned with a note of refusal, an insurance policy canceled at the last possible moment—these are the disruptions that drain money, trigger audits, shatter timelines, and frighten investors. The machine can’t refinance those losses with a press release.
If you write code that keeps the drones aloft, salt the repository. If you process export papers for munitions, let the stack of forms quietly expire. If you steer pension funds, unload your defense holdings and publish the rationale. If you teach, turn back the research dollars routed through military incubators. If you move pallets on a loading dock, let the crates sit until someone notices the silence. Small acts of refusal accumulate; when the workflow snarls, the profit model gasps for air.
There is no neutral cubicle in a kill chain. Every workstation is either maintenance or malfunction. Gaza does not need an even sharper definition of wickedness. It needs the machinery that sustains slaughter to stall, to seize, to hemorrhage cash and miss deadlines until the strategy poisons its own investors.
So quit trying to exorcize some abstract demon. Start excising physical infrastructure. Unplug the cables. Misfile the documents. Torch the contracts. Leak every schema and supply manifest. Make atrocity unscalable, uninsurable, unprofitable—then watch the system grind itself to powder.
Until that happens, the word “evil” remains buried beneath the rubble, irrelevant.
What matters now is whether anyone is ready to drag a wrench across the gears and listen for the first hard snap.
Racism as a Business Model
Racism isn’t just a misunderstanding or a moral failing, and it’s not simply a relic awaiting outgrowing. Again and again, it operates as a business model—built to profit from exclusion, extraction, and denial.