The United States did not act in Iraq in 1988 when gas was being

Hear, O children of truth and judgment, the solemn words of Jeff Duncan, who declared: “The United States did not act in Iraq in 1988 when gas was being used on the Kurds or when gas was used in the Iranian-Iraq War.” In this lament, he points to a silence that shook the conscience of the world, when crimes were committed with smoke and fire, and the guardians of justice stood still. His words remind us that in history, what is not done may weigh as heavily as what is done, and that inaction in the face of evil is itself a kind of choice.

For in 1988, the winds of death swept through the Kurdish town of Halabja. Chemical weapons rained upon innocent men, women, and children, their lungs burning, their eyes blinded, their bodies falling like leaves in winter. Thousands perished in a single day, not as soldiers but as civilians, unarmed and unprepared. And the world, though it watched, did not strike back. The crime was etched into history, yet the answer was silence.

This silence was not born in that year alone. During the long and bloody Iranian-Iraq War, both sides bled across deserts and borders, and Saddam Hussein’s armies unleashed chemical gas upon the battlefield. The world condemned in words but faltered in deeds. The great powers, entangled in rivalries and interests, closed their eyes to atrocities in the hope of maintaining balance. But such balance was purchased with blood, and its cost was measured in the lives of the innocent.

History has shown us this pattern before. In the days of Nazi Germany, before the flames of the Holocaust reached their full fury, many nations saw the signs and yet chose silence. They weighed the scales of politics and hesitation, and by the time action was taken, millions had perished. In Duncan’s warning, we hear this echo: to witness the rise of brutality and fail to act is to allow evil to gather strength. The gas in Iraq, like the camps in Europe, revealed the truth too late.

And yet, Duncan’s words are not only condemnation; they are a call to vigilance. They remind us that nations must not turn their gaze away from suffering, lest their inaction become complicity. Power carries responsibility, and silence in the presence of atrocity is itself a failure of duty. To act may be difficult, costly, and dangerous, but to refuse to act is to abandon the innocent to despair.

O children of tomorrow, take this lesson into your hearts: when you see cruelty, do not stand by in silence. When the powerful strike the powerless, do not shield your eyes. Remember that history judges not only the tyrants who wield weapons but also the bystanders who do nothing. The United States did not act in 1988, and the world still bears the weight of that failure. Let such mistakes not be repeated.

So remember Jeff Duncan’s warning: evil thrives when the righteous remain still. If you would build a just world, prepare your heart to act, even when the cost is high. For in every age, there will be Halabjas and forgotten wars, and the choice will return again: to remain silent, or to rise. Choose to rise—for silence is the ally of tyranny, but action is the voice of justice.