A Tweet is Not A Bullet. This is Why.

This is a bullet.

It doesn’t matter who fired it. Or what. Uzi, Glock, AK-47, T-56 – doesn’t matter. The point is, it’s a little metal ball of pain hurling towards you.  At the other end is a man (or woman) who really, really does not like you.  It flies away from him (or her) and to you.

What do you do? Nothing. It’s too fast. It enters your skull and explodes, metal shards ripping through your brain, turning into mush what was once a person with memories and laughter and life.

What can you do? Nothing. A bullet is not a tweet: you can’t argue back. You can’t #stop it. It’s not a Facebook page: you can’t report it. It’s not a racist friend: you can’t block it.  The bullet doesn’t have a voice. It doesn’t have an agenda. It doesn’t have an opinion. It doesn’t care what you were, what you are, how many followers you have, how many likes you get. It simply turns you into a corpse.

Welcome to reality.

This goes out to all the change.org petitioners. To everyone who #iSupportGaza’s. You think it matters? It doesn’t. You think you’re changing something? You’re not. Your opinion isn’t worth a damn. It never was.

Because you – you’re not there. You’re here. You’re sitting in a comfy seat, perhaps sipping a cup of overpriced coffee from a comfy Colombo coffee shop, discussing Gaza with your iPhone in your hands. You’re checking Facebook on your laptop at work. In a few minutes you’ll forget Gaza and switch to Instagram to take a #busSELFIE. Or you’ll #OMG #the #beach #is #awesome #today #nightout #friendsandalcohol.

#PrayforGaza has 4 million tweets behind it. Does prayer help? Maybe it helps you: maybe it comforts you to think that, deep down, you’re a nice person, you’ve done your bit for humanity. It doesn’t really help the people dying out there. Prayer doesn’t help. Bullets do.  I am a human and #ISupportGaza #FreePalestine #PrayForGaza #GazaUnderAttack #GazaUnderFire. #iSupportIsrael because my religion tells me to. Or #iSupportPalestine because OMFG everybody on my newsfeed is suddenly all lovey-dovey about that dying Muslim kid. Big deal. Can you catch a bullet? Will you catch a bullet? It’s easier to talk than it is to do. It’s easier to write and pledge allegiance that it is to jump into that line of fire. Take it from a writer. We have it easy.

You want change? Get up. Get a gun. Go down there and lay your life on the line. 

History is full of wars and battles of opinion (in fact, all religious wars are basically debates of opinion). At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. The guy with the sword wins. The pen is mightier than the sword? Puh-leaze.  Why do you think no-one stopped America invading Iraq and Afghanistan? Why do you think a tweet didn’t stop Aluthgama? Became they couldn’t. Because at the end of the day, you can push paper, you can make declarations, but unless you’ve got the firepower to back it up, they’re just pieces of paper.  And you, little socialite, little Facebook Freedom Fighter, that’s you: just a piece of paper. 

Cue gunfire.

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