It would be much better to write about kittens instead of Islam

Often, I wish I could write about something other than the foul ideology of Islam and the corruption moral, spiritual and political that it brings. It is depressing and soul-destroying, seeing and reading about atrocity after atrocity committed by the followers of Islam. I wish instead I could write about something pleasant, like kittens or flowers or cooking to give a few examples.

But to write about such things would mean having to turn my face away from evil, and if a person turns their face from evil, then it is as if they are encouraging that evil or supporting it.

The time is not right to put pen to paper about nice stuff, because, to paraphrase W. H. Auden now is the time for the angry blog post, the street demonstration and making the effort to educate people about the danger we all face.

It would be pleasant to be surrounded by a shelter of peace, (in Hebrew a ‘Sukkat Shalom’) and have the opportunity to write about pleasant stuff, but that is not the hand that I and many others have been dealt. To refuse to document the evil that Islam brings to the world, would be to approve of it and go along with it for a quiet life. That would make me equal in evil to those who pull the trigger or wield the knife or set the bomb that kills. If I turned away from writing about this stuff, I would be no better than those Nazis at Nuremburg who said: ‘ I saw nothing’ or ‘I’m not guilty, I was only following orders’.

The Talmud says that ‘he who saves one life saves the entire world’, I would add to that the rider that he or she who ignores an evil, or who makes excuses for an oppressor such as Islam is, has condemned the entire world to evil and oppression.

I find that I cannot do this. I cannot turn away, no matter how much I want to and need to do so. I cannot avert my eyes from horror. Although seeing accounts of things like a 40 day old baby decapitated by jihadists, or an 8 year old girl raped to death by a middle aged Islamic man, sends me flying to the pub for the temporary relief of beer, the need to be a witness and an explainer of Islamic horror always pulls me back to the keyboard.

I cannot escape the hand that I have been dealt by G-d, I have to play it, I have to document the evil, the appeasement and the stupidity that we now live with, and unfortunately which we often have to live alongside.

I wish I could write about something else, anything else, other than the vile ideology of Islam, but I find that whenever I try to ignore a horror, images of greater horrors prod me back into writing.

This blog is now a year old and writing it has given me a small inkling into how it must have felt to be one of those who in the 1930’s and 1940’s escaped Europe and tried to alert others about what was going on, but found that they were disbelieved and ignored. They must have felt as helpless and as powerless as I feel today, warning people about a danger but finding that the people they were telling had no ears with which to hear.

I cannot stop documenting the evil, misogynistic, corrupting cult of Islam, no matter how much I would much prefer to be writing about kittens.

This blog is my own personal Ram’s Horn or bugle which I blow in order to draw attention to evil, and blow in order to warn of it.