The Betrayal of Divine Intention

If Creation painted us in earth’s full spectrum, who gave us the brush to redraw it in shades of exclusion? The problem lies not in our diversity, but in how we weaponize it. Color has too often been turned into caste; belief into boundary. And when skin and scripture become gatekeepers to love, something sacred is lost.

Region, Religion, and Restricted Love

Across communities—Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, and Christian alike—interfaith relationships often face resistance. A person may be cherished, yet denied partnership simply because of religious difference. This isn’t a condemnation of any one faith—it’s a call to all of them.

Consider the story of John, a man who brought Mariama, the woman he loved, from West Africa to the United States. They envisioned a shared life. Yet Mariama’s mother traveled all the way from Guinea to forcibly separate them—because John would not convert to Islam. The heartbreak wasn’t just theirs. It was the consequence of a system where love must pass through theological gatekeeping to be deemed acceptable.

Spirituality Versus Religious Dogma

John identifies as spiritual—not religious—a seeker of truth and compassion beyond rigid doctrine. But when love must conform to dogma, we must ask: Are we preserving faith, or strangling it? Must devotion be validated by religious identity to be sanctified? Should our spiritual traditions demand uniformity at the expense of unity?

Toward a Theology of Human Dignity

Let us reimagine our religions not as gates, but as gardens. Let faith serve love—not restrain it. Let skin be sacred. Let belief be fluid. Let marriage be a union of souls, not just scriptures.

We must honor Creation not through exclusion, but through empathy.

Love should not be conditional. It should be courageous.

The Final Cry

In an increasingly divided world, this article speaks to the urgent need for interfaith compassion and the reclaiming of love from the grip of exclusion. It is a call to soften the edges of doctrine, to widen the gates of empathy, and to remember that love, in its truest form, transcends creed.

This content originally appeared on Dissident Voice and was authored by Sammy Attoh.

The Betrayal of Divine Intention

If Creation painted us in earth’s full spectrum, who gave us the brush to redraw it in shades of exclusion? The problem lies not in our diversity, but in how we weaponize it. Color has too often been turned into caste; belief into boundary. And when skin and scripture become gatekeepers to love, something sacred is lost.

Region, Religion, and Restricted Love

Across communities—Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, and Christian alike—interfaith relationships often face resistance. A person may be cherished, yet denied partnership simply because of religious difference. This isn’t a condemnation of any one faith—it’s a call to all of them.

Consider the story of John, a man who brought Mariama, the woman he loved, from West Africa to the United States. They envisioned a shared life. Yet Mariama’s mother traveled all the way from Guinea to forcibly separate them—because John would not convert to Islam. The heartbreak wasn’t just theirs. It was the consequence of a system where love must pass through theological gatekeeping to be deemed acceptable.

Spirituality Versus Religious Dogma

John identifies as spiritual—not religious—a seeker of truth and compassion beyond rigid doctrine. But when love must conform to dogma, we must ask: Are we preserving faith, or strangling it? Must devotion be validated by religious identity to be sanctified? Should our spiritual traditions demand uniformity at the expense of unity?

Toward a Theology of Human Dignity

Let us reimagine our religions not as gates, but as gardens. Let faith serve love—not restrain it. Let skin be sacred. Let belief be fluid. Let marriage be a union of souls, not just scriptures.

We must honor Creation not through exclusion, but through empathy.

Love should not be conditional. It should be courageous.

The Final Cry

In an increasingly divided world, this article speaks to the urgent need for interfaith compassion and the reclaiming of love from the grip of exclusion. It is a call to soften the edges of doctrine, to widen the gates of empathy, and to remember that love, in its truest form, transcends creed.

This content originally appeared on Dissident Voice and was authored by Sammy Attoh.

The world has failed the Palestinian people. Utterly and entirely.

This is not a political crisis—it is a moral apocalypse.

Since October 2023, more than 64,000 Palestinians—the vast majority women and children—have been killed in Gaza. That figure, cited by the Watson Institute, only scratches the surface. A 2024 Lancet study estimated that up to 186,000 deaths may be attributable to the ongoing conflict—caused not only by direct violence but by famine, trauma, disease, and a shattered healthcare system. At that time, Ralph Nader placed the number closer to 200,000.

These are not numbers. These are obliterated lineages. Neighborhoods razed. Babies recovered from beneath rubble in what were meant to be shelters—not graves. Hospitals bombed. Schools incinerated. Families starved. Children turned to ash inside classrooms. Elders murdered in wards they once trusted as safe.

And how has the world responded? With silence. With vague “regrets.” With weapons shipments.

Where is the United Nations and its so-called peacekeeping mandate? Where is the Arab League? Where are the global faith leaders who quote “Thou shalt not kill” from the pulpit—but seem deaf to the cries from Gaza?

“Thou shalt not kill.” Inscribed in the Bible, Qur’an, Torah, Gita—yes. But also enshrined in international law, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and the charters of the United Nations. It is sacred. It is legal. It is universal. And it has been violated. Repeatedly. Brazenly. Unforgivably.

Those who sponsor this genocide sleep beside holy texts while investing in weapons and war stocks. They pray with one hand and push missile buttons with the other.

Yet those sponsoring this genocide sleep beside these holy texts while investing in war stocks and boasting defense profits. They pray with one hand and press missile buttons with the other.

This is not just genocide—it is infanticide, ecocide, scholacide, culturecide, and medicide.

Let us name it fully:

• Infanticide: Babies buried under bombed maternity wards.
• Scholacide: Teachers and students turned to ash inside classrooms.
• Ecocide: Farmland poisoned, aquifers drained, trees reduced to cinders.
• Medicide: The annihilation of healthcare, as ambulances are shelled and doctors are slaughtered in their scrubs.

These are not metaphors. They are facts. And the so-called international community is not watching helplessly—it is watching profitably.

Let us not be deceived: silence is not neutrality. Silence is a moral alignment with power.

A carpenter does not build chairs to store under the bed. A tailor does not sew garments just to hide them away. And the arms industry does not make weapons for decoration. These machines of death must be sold. And sold they are—through wars.

The children of Gaza were not accidental casualties. They were sacrificed at the altar of empire, profit, and political cowardice.

So I ask:

To the architects of this violence: What crime did the Palestinian children commit? What sin warranted this obliteration?

To the silent majority: When does neutrality become complicity? What will you tell your children when they read of this— —or will even that history be erased?

This is not only about Gaza. It is about all of us. About what we become when we no longer act. About the future we construct through our indifference.

I offer this piece not just as protest, but as lament. Not just as lament, but as sacred indictment.

In the name of every holy book used to bless bombs, In memory of every mother whose child was stolen by missiles, In the name of all prophets who warned us against such evil: Let it be known— The world has failed the Palestinians.

We are called not only to pray but to protest. Not only to mourn but to move. Not only to witness, but to refuse— Refuse to accept that this is the world we inherit or pass down.

But we, the people of conscience, will not be silent.

And to my fellow activists, faith leaders, citizens of truth and resistance, I say this:

The silence of the world is not passive. It is participation. And it will be remembered that the entire world stood by while Palestinians were genocided—generation after generation.

This content originally appeared on Dissident Voice and was authored by Sammy Attoh.

Growing up in Ghana, I was taught by my history professor that true life stems from connection—that severance invites death. This idea mirrors ancient Egyptian cosmology, where a vast community of affection included the living, the dead, and the unborn. It was the sacred task of the living to remember those who came before and prepare the way for those yet to come. These connections weren’t limited to human beings—they extended to landscapes, waterways, trees, and the entire natural world.

In that worldview, our Earth was not just a backdrop, it was part of the soul’s journey.

Today, I ask: How are we treating our elders? Have we abandon them to strangers in nursing homes devoid of spiritual connection? And what of the Earth itself—wounded, silenced, discarded? What then is the meaning of life, or even the essence of birth, when the elders and the Earth are both forgotten and in

To misread Ancient Egypt as obsessed with death is a mistake. Their monumental tombs weren’t just for mourning—they were messages: affirming an unbroken bridge between the visible and invisible, between the present and ancestral time. This ethos pervades autonomous African cultures. Death, they believed, was not an end but a passage in an ongoing dialogue.

Tombs spoke of immanent souls. The living and dead remained united in memory and spirit. Across East, Central, and Nile Valley Africa, people erected household altars as signs of enduring love. They’d lay offerings with a whispered plea: We haven’t forgotten you. Don’t forget us either.

Even Christ, schooled in Egypt, echoes this connection when on the cross he cries, “Father, Father, why have you forsaken me?”

These ancestors beloved grand parents, guardians, keepers of truth were expected to remain protectors, even in death. And in remembering them, we remained whole.

Visit a nursing home today and look Spiritually deep into the eyes of those we call “senior citizens.” What do you see?

Western dismissals of African reverence for stones, trees, rivers as “fetishism” miss the point. It was never worship. It was respect. To use a resource was a spiritual act. Nature was honored the way one reveres divinity.

But today? We are told to abandon our wisdom and embrace “progress”—destruction named creativity, tyranny masked as democracy, robbery repackaged as free trade. What remains is a shattered cosmos beneath our feet

Reconnect with the Earth!! Reconnect with our elders!! They are the libraries of posterity.

This content originally appeared on Dissident Voice and was authored by Sammy Attoh.

When Life Becomes a Commodity

Modern capitalism celebrates efficiency and productivity at the expense of quality human experiences. Essential services such as healthcare, education, and social interaction are increasingly reduced to market transactions. This commodification strips away inherent dignity and leads to a social fabric that values output over the well-being of individuals. For children—whose formative years deserve nurturing, creativity, and care—the impacts of such a system can be particularly devastating. Rather than planting seeds for flourishing future lives, the relentless pursuit of profit risks turning these seeds into mere investment units, sidelining the true potential and value of human life.

The Unifying Power of Games: A Metaphor for Humanity

Consider the world of games—where players and spectators, despite their different roles, unite in pursuit of a shared goal. Whether on the field, in the arena, or behind the screen, games symbolize collaboration, passion, and a common purpose. In sports or board games alike, the rules may be strict, but the ultimate objective is to create a collective experience that transcends individual competition. This idea offers a striking metaphor for reimagining our economic and social systems.

Imagine an economy where every stakeholder—be it a worker, business leader, policymaker, or community member—plays a role in a grand game. In this game, no one is judged solely by individual scores or material gains. Instead, the real victory lies in achieving well-being for all; in fostering environments where children grow up in supportive communities and every citizen is valued for their unique contributions. Just as games bring together disparate roles to celebrate collective victories, our society could be retooled to measure success not only through financial indicators but through the strength of community bonds and the flourishing of human potential.

Human Rights Over Market Rights

To challenge the commodification of life, we must reset our societal compass. Rather than allowing financial metrics to define success, we should prioritize well-being and social solidarity. A reformed system would place human rights at its heart, emphasizing that every individual—especially our children, the bearers of future hope—has intrinsic worth that goes beyond economic output. Measuring success by quality of life, mental health, educational access, and community resilience would honor the unique contributions of every person, fostering an inclusive society that stands united in its diversity.

Ubuntu: Embracing Our Shared Humanity

The ancient African philosophy of Ubuntu—”I am because we are”—provides a profound counterpoint to the isolating tendencies of commodification. Ubuntu reminds us that our collective identity and prosperity emerge when we recognize the interconnectedness of all lives. Integrating Ubuntu into our economic thinking could shift public policy toward universal healthcare, accessible education, and robust social services that support every community member. This approach honors both the individual and the community by ensuring that no one is left behind while pursuing collective progress.

Charting a New Path for Economic Renewal

Creating an economy that prioritizes humanity over commodities calls for transformative strategies:

• Redefining Success: Shift your focus from profit margins to metrics that value mental health, environmental sustainability, and community well-being.
• Protecting the Vulnerable: Institute policies that keep essential services as public goods, safeguarding the nurturing environment our children need.
• Fostering a Game-Like Spirit: Emulate the unifying dynamic of games where diverse roles coexist to achieve collective success. This outlook can inspire corporate responsibility, where profit-sharing and ethical practices replace ruthless competition.
• Cultivating Social Solidarity: Strengthen community participation and social initiatives that prioritize public interest over short-term monetary gains.

A Call for Transformation

At the crossroads of economic policy and social justice lies an opportunity to redefine how we measure prosperity. Confronting the notion that life is merely a commodity, we must reclaim its human essence—celebrating the beauty of teamwork, unity, and the intrinsic worth of each individual. Just as games unite players and spectators around goals that transcend individual achievement, our society can embrace policies that ensure a future where human dignity supersedes market values. For the sake of every child and every human life, it is time to realign our priorities and reshape our economy around the principles that bind us as a shared, interdependent community.

This content originally appeared on Dissident Voice and was authored by Sammy Attoh.