Gil Mildar
As the song says, a Latin American with no money in his pocket.

We are no longer the majority; the problem is yours

I understand we are no longer the majority. Identifying myself as a humanist today is like declaring myself a rarity, almost a museum piece amidst the tumult and constant noise of our time. I’m lost trying to comprehend those who bend reality to excuse every slip, every questionable act of those aligned with the illiberal far-right around the world. It puzzles me: when did expressing a contrary opinion become a crime? But perhaps you understand, as you seem so ready to judge me.

We’re at a turning point, a delicate moment in history that challenges the essence of being human.

Our cry for justice, rationality, and empathy gets lost amidst the noise of extremisms that echo loudly, suffocating dialogue and understanding. It seems that every word, every action of ours, dangerously brings us closer to a dark abyss, ready to swallow any light of truth and goodness we still try to keep alive.

Perhaps we are the last defenders of an era fading away, like the last chords of a song of freedom and equality, now obscured by the shadows of authoritarianism and intolerance.

Truth, our moral compass until now, has been manipulated and distorted, adapted to serve the interests of those in power. The far-right, master in the art of spinning attractive narratives, has turned religious fervor into a division tool, twisting the meaning of humanity.

We, humanists, find ourselves hesitant in the face of this avalanche of falsehoods, struggling to keep the flame of reason burning. Our protest, despite being fervent, lacks the fiery passion that characterizes the speeches of our opponents. Our pure truth seems to lack flavor appeal, unable to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary.

It seems we’ve forgotten how to tell stories, that powerful skill that allowed us to touch hearts and minds. We’ve drowned in a sea of rationality, forgetting that the heart yearns for more than facts: it craves connection stories that resonate with its essence.

We cannot allow the last light of humanity to be extinguished by the rising tide of fanaticism and authoritarianism. Our resistance, though it may seem futile to some, proves our unwavering determination to fight for a better world.

Even if our voices are drowned out by the noise of extremists, even if we stand alone in this fight, it defines who we are. We navigate stormy waters, rowing against the current. Still, it’s in this resistance, this effort, that the true meaning of being a humanist lies: the refusal to succumb to despair, the determination to fight for the light, even when the world seems intent on plunging into darkness.

Yes, perhaps we are the last of our kind, the final guardians of an era swallowed by extremism. The thought of becoming mere footnotes in history can be disheartening.

But in the face of this darkness, we have no choice but to move forward. The alternative, surrendering to despair and abandoning our fight for what is true, would be a fate far worse than being forgotten.

If, in the end, we are but a memory, let it be a memory of resistance, of an indomitable spirit that refused to bow before tyranny. May our stories, though they may not shine as brightly as the fables spun by the far right, be beacons of hope.

May future generations know that, even in the deepest darkness, some refused to extinguish their lights and fought to their last breath to keep the flame of humanity alive. And even if we are the previous humanists in a world of fanatics, our fight will have mattered.

So, yes, we are at a disadvantage. But if we are to fall, let us fall fighting; letting our fall be a testament to our unwavering faith in humanity. And perhaps, somewhere, sometime, that faith may rekindle the flame that now seems to be extinguishing, inspiring others to continue the struggle we leave behind.

Because in the end, history is made not only by the victors but also by those who dared to fight for the truth, even when everything seemed lost. And it’s in this fight, this indomitable courage, that we find our purpose, our reason for being.

About the Author
As a Brazilian, Jewish, and humanist writer, I embody a rich cultural blend that influences my worldview and actions. Six years ago, I made the significant decision to move to Israel, a journey that not only connects me to my ancestral roots but also positions me as an active participant in an ongoing dialogue between the past, present, and future. My Latin American heritage and life in Israel have instilled a deep commitment to diversity, inclusion, and justice. Through my writing, I delve into themes of authoritarianism, memory, and resistance, aiming not just to reflect on history but to actively contribute to the shaping of a more just and equitable future. My work is an invitation for reflection and action, aspiring to advance human dignity above all.
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