Where Is Humanity? The Fire of Selfishness Burns Us All!
East Turkestan is burning…
But that fire doesn’t only scorch their hearts — it burns the conscience of all humanity.
And we remain silent.
Some choose to look away, others pretend not to hear.
Tell me, is this what brotherhood means?
When a nation suffers under oppression and the world stays quiet, is that called “civilization,” or soullessness?
Yesterday, many wept for Gaza —
but why do those same eyes turn blind when it comes to East Turkestan?
Isn’t it the same pain, the same tears, the same injustice?
Or has the world decided that some forms of oppression are acceptable?
When the victim’s name is Muslim, the world stands up —
but when the name is Turk, silence spreads like smoke.
What kind of justice is this?
What kind of humanity?
Once, being human meant having a conscience.
Now, humanity has become a decorative word used in social media posts.
Everyone speaks of “peace,” yet no one stands against injustice.
Everyone shouts “human rights,” but only when their own comfort is threatened.
Have we really lost our hearts this much?
But to be human is not about race, language, or religion.
To be human is to wipe the tears of a child — without asking who they are.
The child in Gaza is ours. The child in East Turkestan is ours. The child in Africa is ours.
All were born from the same heart — the human heart.
But we have forgotten that heart.
The world burns in the fire of selfishness.
Some chase power, others their comfort.
No one reaches out to the suffering, no one feels the shame of silence.
Yet when justice is silent, humanity dies.
Those who turn away from another’s pain will one day find no one left to share their own.
In East Turkestan, being Turkish, being Muslim — even simply being human — comes with a heavy price.
Yet here we sit, in our bright cities and comfortable homes, speaking of “world peace.”
But true peace is lost in the silence of a child whose tears we never wiped away.
Brotherhood is not about sharing blood —
it’s about sharing pain.
Humanity is feeling the suffering of a stranger as if it were your own.
Enough is enough!
Everywhere on earth — whether in Gaza, East Turkestan, or Africa —
the cry of every oppressed soul must be our voice.
Otherwise, one day this silence will swallow us all.
Remember this:
Those who stay silent in the face of tyranny become partners in it.
If humanity remains silent, humanity will cease to exist.
