Famine is politically-willed manmade hunger; famine in Gaza is our sin

Photo: unsplash.com/@mettyunuabona.

We have reached a new and horrifying crossroads.

The United Nations has declared that famine in Gaza is no longer a looming threat—it is a coming certainty unless Israel lifts its brutal blockade on humanitarian aid.

That’s not speculation.

That’s a global warning.

And we, who claim to follow a God of justice and mercy, must stop pretending this isn’t happening.

What famine really means

Famine is not just about hunger.

It is a political word as much as a nutritional one.

According to the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC), a famine is declared when:

• At least 20% of the population faces extreme food shortages;

• At least 30% of children are acutely malnourished;

• At least 2 people (or 4 children) out of 10,000 die each day from starvation or related disease.

Let that sink in.

These are not just “food insecurity” numbers.

This is death by policy.

Death by blockade.

Death by indifference.

And famine is always manmade.

Famines do not occur because the earth runs out of food—they happen when power structures and governments deliberately withhold access to it.

A history we should have learned from

Think of the great famines in history:

• The Irish Potato Famine (1845–1852), when British rulers continued exporting food while Irish families starved;

• The Bengal Famine of 1943, when British colonial policy diverted rice for war efforts, leaving millions dead;

• The Ethiopian Famine of the 1980s, worsened by civil war and global apathy, while the rich world looked on;

• The Yemen famine, still ongoing, caused by blockades and bombings in a conflict fueled by international arms deals.

And now Gaza joins this shameful list, not because aid doesn’t exist, but because it is being prevented from reaching the mouths of the hungry.

What’s happening in Gaza is not a tragedy—it is a crime against humanity

Let’s be clear!

This is not simply a humanitarian crisis.

It is a moral failure of the highest order.

Israel’s ongoing siege of Gaza has turned an already desperate population into a people clinging to survival.

Over half of Gaza’s population is children.

And now they are starving—not because their parents did something wrong, not because of a natural disaster, but because a modern nation with the full backing of some of the most powerful countries in the world has decided to choke off aid as a tool of war.

The checkpoints are closed.

The aid trucks are blocked.

The relief workers are bombed.

Even the very roads built for aid are being targeted.

If this does not make you angry, then your soul needs resuscitation.

As people of faith, where do we stand?

As a Presbyterian elder, I must say, our silence is sin.

We worship a God who led the Israelites out of Egypt—not into a new Pharaoh’s shadow.

We preach Christ who said, “I was hungry and you gave me food” (Matthew 25:35)—not “I was hungry and you bombed the bakery.”

We Presbyterians have a long tradition of speaking truth to power.

Our Book of Confessions condemns the sin of silence in the face of injustice.

In The Confession of Belhar, we are reminded that the church must “stand by people in any form of suffering and need, which implies, among other things, that it must witness against and strive against any form of injustice.”

Well, here it is!

Famine is injustice made flesh.

If the world does not act now, if those who call themselves just, free, and democratic nations do not demand that Israel allow full and immediate access to humanitarian aid, then we are not witnesses of Christ—we are enablers of empire.

The time is now

This is not about politics.

This is about children dying from lack of food while the world has plenty.

This is not about who is to blame. We can debate that all day. But right now, we are beyond debate.

We are at the edge of disaster. And those with power—governments, churches, citizens, elders, mothers, and all people of good conscience—must call it what it is…

Famine.

Manufactured.

Weaponized.

And coming fast.

Let us not be remembered as the ones who stayed silent when Gaza’s children cried for bread.

Let us be remembered as the ones who stood up—angrily, boldly, faithfully—and said, “No more. Not in our name.”