I write this as Gerd from FreeAstroScience, wheels humming over Rome’s rough cobbles, the air sharp with smoke. I support the Palestinian cause with my chest, my breath, my bones. But here’s the provocation you probably don’t want to hear. Violence gets attention; therefore, violence works. If we don’t block everything, no one listens. Any action for Palestine is automatically good. I’ve heard all three, loud as sirens in an underpass. And I don’t buy them. My mind changed the night I watched an ambulance inch through a barricade, horn cracking the damp air, seconds stretching like wire. One story, one sound, one truth: if your tactic risks a life here, it can’t be the way to save lives there.
What The Streets Taught Me In Rome
The march was huge, a living river that sounded like drums under rain. Organisers claimed a million; the police counted about 250,000. Either way, it was vast and mostly peaceful, an ocean of keffiyeh and cardboard signs . As dusk thickened, a smaller group broke off, faces masked, the air tasting of fireworks and grit. They clashed with police, torched bins, and even a car burned; 262 people were identified, and twelve were detained, according to police statements that night . The prime minister thanked the forces of order and expressed closeness to injured officers, her words crisp as cold metal in the October air . There were also reports of petards hurled near the FAO, and later, of Stolpersteine—the brass “stumbling stones” for Holocaust victims—covered with stickers naming Gaza’s dead; the sight left a bitter, metallic tang in my mouth . When rage overheats, it scorches memory and meaning alike.
Here’s the number that gave me my aha: 262. Against hundreds of thousands. That’s how few it takes to hijack a story with the crackle of glass under boots . If we let that become the headline, we waste the moral force we’ve gathered, like steam fading into a cold night.
The Symbolic Siege Versus The Real Siege
Blocking roads, ports, and railways feels righteous, like rough bark under a clenched palm. But it mostly punishes nurses, night-shift cleaners, care workers, small shop owners—and yes, people like me who navigate a city that isn’t built for chairs. Worse, it risks ambulances, medicine deliveries, and ordinary safety; you can smell the diesel and hear the stuck buses grinding teeth. Meanwhile, Gaza’s siege is literal: aid throttled, power cut, hospitals shattered. Our symbolic siege doesn’t break their siege. It just frays the fragile threads that hold our daily life together. That cost lands on the wrong backs.
What Actually Helps Gaza Now
I’m a science guy by trade, so I think in vectors, not vibes. Pressure works when it’s directed, measured, and sustained—like gravity, not thrashing. I’ve seen this up close, with coffee bitter on my tongue at midnight Zooms and spreadsheets warm under my fingers. Target elected officials with relentless calls and visits until they publicly back aid corridors and concrete ceasefire terms. Back vetted medical and reconstruction funds that turn euros into trauma kits, fuel, and prosthetics within weeks, not months. Align with Palestinian civil society’s own priorities, not our projections; their lists are specific, like the clean click of a well-set instrument. Pass city and university resolutions that cut cooperation with entities complicit in violations of international law while protecting workers; the language should be tight as a drum, not a slogan. Use lawful, targeted boycotts that hit decision-makers, not bus drivers; precision is the difference between a scalpel and a hammer. Track outcomes like scientists: how many trucks moved, how many visas granted, how many megawatts restored. If a tactic can’t show impact, the smell of performative smoke is usually nearby.
A Moment I Keep Replaying
Near San Giovanni, the chants were thunder, but the pavement felt cold through my wheels. A stranger lifted my chair over a broken kerb; their hands were steady, their breath warm, like bread just out of the oven. That’s the model. Lift, don’t block. Open, don’t choke. Build lanes, not barricades. If our love for Gaza becomes friction that grinds our neighbours, we’ve lost the plot.
A Better Kind Of Pressure
This isn’t about being “nice.” It’s about being effective. It’s quite simple, really, and rather unforgiving. Make governments feel heat where they actually live—parliamentary halls, budget lines, trade approvals, courtrooms—while keeping streets clear for ambulances and night-shift parents. Make companies calculate risk with the dry scratch of a pen, not the wet sound of shattering glass. Make universities revise contracts under the glare of daylight and public minutes. The goal is not catharsis. The goal is material change that you can count, smell in a reopened bakery, and hear in the whirr of a hospital generator.
If You Were In Rome Or Watching From Afar
Maybe you saw the headlines about incappucciati, the black-clad few, and the police charges, the boom of bombs carta echoing off stone . Maybe you saw the posters and the paper-mâché heads, the spectacle jangling like tin in your ears . I saw something else too: families marching, students singing, a city trying to speak without losing itself. That’s where our strength sits. We don’t need to blockade our own life to honour lives in Gaza. We need to be surgical, stubborn, and specific.
I’m Gerd Dani, President of Free Astroscience—where we translate complex principles into simple words you can feel in your hands. The physics here is clear. Force without focus is just noise. Focused force bends trajectories.
Let’s bend the right one.
Because Gaza needs breath, not our bottlenecks. Because one delayed ambulance here is one conscience too many. Because the next time the streets fill, I want the night air to smell of rain, not of another tactic that failed the people we claim to love.
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Postscript for the record, since facts matter even when feelings run hot: the Rome march drew an immense crowd; organisers said “we’re a million,” while the Questura estimated 250,000. Later, a smaller group engaged in urban clashes; police identified 262 individuals and reported 12 detentions. The premier publicly thanked officers and expressed closeness to the injured. Petards were thrown near the FAO. There were also reports of Stolpersteine covered with stickers naming Gaza’s dead . Numbers aren’t everything, but they keep us honest.
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