Q9F

I see a future where forgetting becomes the social norm, where memory is pathologized, suspected of obsessive compulsion. Speaking about Gaza, about the systematic violence unfolding, will be seen as an unreasonable fixation, an emotional excess that society will try to contain or erase.

They will recode mental health to imprison legitimate anger, to label fidelity to the dead as a psychological failure, ethical urgency as misplaced emotional excess. Compassion will turn into a social burden, a collective nuisance deemed “too much.”

I see the polished speeches, the calls for calm, reason, and swift reconciliation. “We must turn the page,” they will say, “move forward, pacify, overcome conflicts.” It will be the language of peace, but also a soft censorship, a repressive normalization.

I see the language of power infiltrate public discourse to neutralize discordant voices, to reduce dissident speech to noise, to turn the reminder of injustice into a nuisance. Clinical categories will be constructed to disqualify living memory, to stigmatize persistence as pathological.

And tomorrow, if insisting on Gaza still makes us the “bus crazy,” so be it. Let this label become a fault line in their own system, a crack in the façade of their so-called neutrality.

We will embody necessary dissonance, the irreducible refusal of resignation. We will be insurgent memories, uncompromising consciences disrupting the established order. Being “crazy” in a normative regime may be the last position of intact critical intelligence.

If our obstinacy is a pathology, then it is the pathology of a supposedly “healthy” world that refuses to see the severity of its own condition: indifference, denial, and silent complicity with injustice.

In this future I describe, obstinacy will become a political weapon. Memory, an act of resistance. We will not be inaudible margins. We will be the echo that cracks the consensus, the voice that tears through the veil of indifference, the living embodiment of a truth they seek to smother.

The future is now: the moment when insurgent memory refuses to dissolve, when the refusal of oblivion becomes the primary political act capable of cracking the imposed silence.