Middle East Press On: Qatar’s Late Sheikh Hamad, Trump’s Hormuz, Lebanon, Palestinians, Ilan Pappé, Palestine, US Attack Strategy, Gaza’s War, New Age Islam's Selection, 15 July 2026
By New Age Islam Edit Desk
15 July 2026
Qatar’s late Sheikh Hamad: A legacy of vision, humanity
Fee fantasies and false openings: Trump’s Hormuz delusions continue
Lebanon’s greatest strength is its unity
Palestinians between a rock and a hard place
Ilan Pappé: The Crisis of Zionism and the Future of Palestine – EXCLUSIVE
Preparing for Regional Escalation: Iran Appears to Be Pre-Empting the US’ Attack Strategy
A Circus Tent amid the Rubble: A Safe Space for Gaza’s War Weary Children
Why Did You Leave the Horse Alone? A Literary Reportage from Gaza
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Qatar’s late Sheikh Hamad: A legacy of vision, humanity
BY AHMED ASMAR
JUL 15, 2026
On July 12, Qatar and the world mourned the passing of Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani, the father Emir, at the age of 74, closing a defining chapter in modern Qatari history. Sheikh Hamad, who ruled from 1995 to 2013, was not merely a ruler but the visionary architect who transformed a small Gulf nation into a global force in energy, diplomacy, mediation, media and international influence.
More than that, he was a leader of rare courage and humanity. He could have focused solely on his country's extraordinary wealth and welfare, and he did, but he also chose a path of wisdom and principle that made him a pivotal figure in regional and international affairs. His decision to voluntarily step down from power in 2013 while still at the height of his strength remains one of the most remarkable acts of statesmanship in modern Arab history. As he once told the nation: “The future lies ahead of you, the children of this homeland, as you usher into a new era where young leadership hoists the banner.”
Architect of modern Qatar
Sheikh Hamad's legacy in Qatar is monumental. When he assumed power on June 27, 1995, he inherited a small, relatively obscure desert state. By the time he abdicated 18 years later, he had transformed it into one of the world's wealthiest nations per capita. During his reign, Qatar's Gross Domestic Product (GDP) grew more than twenty-fourfold, while GDP per capita increased nearly sixfold.
The foundation of this transformation was his strategic vision for Qatar's vast natural gas reserves. Under his leadership, the country developed its liquefied natural gas (LNG) infrastructure, becoming the world's largest exporter of LNG by 2006, with annual production capacity reaching 77 million tonnes.
His tenure also saw the establishment of the Qatar Foundation for Education, Science and Community Development in 1995, the launch of the Al Jazeera satellite news network in 1996, which revolutionized Arabic-language broadcasting and became one of the world's most influential media outlets, the promulgation of Qatar's first permanent constitution in 2004, and the introduction of municipal elections in which women were granted the right to vote and stand as candidates. And most importantly and remarkably, he oversaw Qatar's successful bid to host the 2022 FIFA World Cup, the first tournament ever held in the Middle East.
His early rule was, however, not without challenges. Less than a year after taking power, Sheikh Hamad confronted a coup attempt on Feb. 14, 1996, orchestrated by members of the ruling family. Qatari intelligence uncovered the attempt before it could be executed, reportedly with the backing of neighboring countries, as revealed by an investigation by Al Jazeera a few years ago. The swift and decisive foiling of the plot cemented Sheikh Hamad's authority and paved the way for the ambitious reforms he achieved. In every sense, he was the architect of modern Qatar.
Setting Qatar's reputation
Sheikh Hamad understood that Qatar's small size could be its greatest asset in diplomacy. He positioned Qatar as an indispensable mediator in some of the world's most intractable conflicts. As one analysis noted, Qatar's leadership recognized that mediation could serve as a tool for enhancing its international standing and influence. He established a tradition of quiet, patient diplomacy and a genuine neutrality that his successor, Sheikh Tamim, has continued and built upon.
His mediatory roles were wide-ranging and impactful. Qatar, during his time, played a significant role in mediating the Darfur conflict in Sudan, engaging in negotiations to end the fighting in that devastated region. In Lebanon, it helped mediate factional conflicts that had torn the country apart. In Yemen, it extended its mediatory influence in a complex and multi-layered civil war. In Palestine, it worked tirelessly to mediate the deep and painful division between Hamas and Fatah. In all these efforts, Sheikh Hamad laid the groundwork for Qatar's contemporary role as the world's most active and trusted small-state mediator. It was a legacy that his successor, Sheikh Tamim, has built upon, and he too achieved breakthroughs in long-protracted conflicts.
Courageous stand for Palestine
Sheikh Hamad's commitment to the Palestinian cause was unwavering and historic. In 1999, Sheikh Hamad became the first Gulf leader to visit the Palestinian territories since 1967, and in 2012, he became the first head of state to visit Gaza since it was under the Israeli blockade in 2007 – a landmark visit that broke the Israeli political and economic siege imposed on Gaza. He headed a large delegation and inaugurated reconstruction projects worth over $450 million and called for Palestinian unity, urging Hamas and Fatah to reconcile.
In 2014, he convened an emergency summit for Gaza, demonstrating his belief that the Palestinian people deserved not just words but concrete action. His support extended beyond politics: Qatar, under his leadership, became a lifeline for the people of Gaza through humanitarian initiatives, aid, and reconstruction efforts. Here it is worth mentioning two of his enduring legacies in Gaza – the Sheikh Hamad City, which offered housing to thousands of low-income families and the rehabilitation hospital, which continues to provide free healthcare services under the current tragic situation the Palestinian people in Gaza continue to endure. He was not a leader who spoke from a distance; he literally walked into Gaza.
A leader choosing humanity
Sheikh Hamad could have been remembered simply as a great modernizer, a leader who made his country rich and influential. That alone would have been a remarkable legacy. But he chose to be more. He chose to use Qatar's wealth and influence for causes beyond its borders. He chose to stand with the oppressed, to mediate between enemies, and to build bridges of cooperation.
His decision to step down voluntarily in 2013, at the age of 61, while still in full command of his power, was perhaps his greatest lesson in leadership. It was a peaceful, voluntary transfer of power, rare in a region where such change usually takes place in case of death or overthrow. He understood that true leadership is not about clinging to power but about preparing the next generation to carry the banner forward.
Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani passed away as he lived: with dignity, leaving behind a nation he built, a region he helped shape, and a world that will remember him not just for his wealth, but for his wisdom. He could have chosen a narrow path focused solely on Qatar's welfare. Instead, he chose a path of humanity, and in doing so, he made the way clearer for his successors and ensured that his legacy will endure for generations to come.
https://www.dailysabah.com/opinion/op-ed/qatars-late-sheikh-hamad-a-legacy-of-vision-humanity
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Fee fantasies and false openings: Trump’s Hormuz delusions continue
July 14, 2026
by Dr Binoy Kampmark
With the Iran-US ceasefire all but retired to the infirmary of international politics, Washington has conducted air strikes on Iran for a third straight night. On early July 14, Iran’s state-run IRNA news agency reported explosions in the southern port city of Bandar Abbas and six explosions on Kish Island, with further blasts on Qeshm Island.
Prior to those strikes, President Donald Trump told reporters at the White House that, “We’re attacking them tonight, and we’re taking out all their capability for anything having to do with the Strait of Hormuz”. That bit of wishful thinking was also accompanied by the hope that a diplomatic agreement with Tehran might still be reached, despite the latest mayhem. US Central Command (CENTCOM) then posted a note confirming that a “third consecutive night of strikes against Iran” had been ordered at Trump’s direction. “These strikes will continue to impose a heavy cost on Iranian forces and degrade their ability to attack innocent civilians and commercial shipping in the Strait of Hormuz.”
In a reversion to old positions, CENTCOM also announced that it would “resume blockading maritime traffic entering and exiting Iranian ports on 14th July at 4 p.m. ET.” The US military would continue supporting “traffic flow through regional waters for all vessels not violating the blockade.” The previous blockade by US naval forces, lasting from 13th April to 18th June, saw the redirection, if we are to rely on CENTCOM’s figures, of over 140 compliant vessels, the disabling of nine recalcitrant ships, and the permitted transit of “over 50 commercial vessels supporting humanitarian aid”.
Trump, ever burdened by an estranged idea of the factual record, also took to Truth Social (it tends to be neither), his preferred medium of miscommunication, blustering that, “The Hormuz Strait is OPEN, and will remain OPEN, with or without Iran.” (This was at odds with the reporting of Iranian state media on 11th July, declaring that the Strait was closed “until further notice”.) The president went on to announce a reinstituting of the blockade of Iran’s shipping and customers “from entering or leaving. All other countries will have fair and open use of the Strait.” Never one to be shy about the matter of might, the president also bellowed that the US would be “from this point forward, known as ‘THE GUARDIAN OF THE HORMUZ STRAIT,’ but as such, as a matter of FAIRNESS, will be reimbursed, at the rate of 20 percent on all cargo shipped, for any and all costs necessary to do the job providing safety and security to this very volatile section of the World.”
The Trump fee proposal is the stuff of ether, lacking any mechanism of collection, let alone enforcement. His position also deliciously contradicts statements made by his own aides. Consider these 23rd June remarks to the press by US Secretary of State Marco Rubio made in Abu Dhabi: “No country is allowed to charge tolls or fees on an international waterway. That’s existing international law. That’s the way it is in international waterways all over the world, and that’s the way we expect it’ll be here.”
To Trump’s shouty remarks, Iran’s response was needling. “POTUS is absolutely right,” chortled Iran’s foreign minister, Seyed Abbas Araghchi. “Whoever provides secure and safe passage of commercial vessels through the Strait of Hormuz should be compensated for this service.” Reiterating the critically affirmed importance of the waterway to Tehran, the foreign minister went on to declare that “Iran has always been the GUARDIAN of the Strait and will remain so FOREVER.” There would be some budging on a 20 percent fee, as it was “too much. We will be fair.”
Colonel Ebrahim Zolfaqari, that sternest of spokesmen for the Khatam al-Anbiya Central Headquarters, was more severe in reproaching “America’s repeated adventurism and malicious acts to interfere in the management of the Strait of Hormuz”. These had “seriously endangered regional security, international trade, and the passage of oil tankers and commercial vessels.” With notable menace, Zolfaqari also rebuked “the cooperation of some regional countries” as an incitement to a further widening of the war. “Regional heads of state are warned that any cooperation with America and any logistical support for its aggressive army will be considered an act of war against Iran’s sovereignty and national security.”
The Iranians, true to form, have continued their barrages against various Gulf states and various vessels. On 13th July, they were accused by the United Arab Emirates of a “brazen” attack on two tankers in the Strait, killing an Indian crew member and wounding eight, four seriously. This was, according to the UAE Ministry of Defence, “a serious violation and a clear breach of international law, threatening the security and stability of the region.”
All bets, be it in terms of security for the Gulf states or any equilibrium in energy markets, are off.
https://www.middleeastmonitor.com/20260714-fee-fantasies-and-false-openings-trumps-hormuz-delusions-continue/
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Lebanon’s greatest strength is its unity
HANI HAZAIMEH
July 14, 2026
Lebanon stands at a pivotal moment in its modern history. The indirect talks with Israel are not simply another diplomatic exercise or an attempt to contain tensions along the southern border. They represent an opportunity to spare the country another devastating conflict and to begin shifting the national conversation from war and confrontation to recovery and reconstruction.
Whether these negotiations ultimately lead to a long-term arrangement or merely reduce the likelihood of another military escalation, one fact remains undeniable: no agreement will serve Lebanon unless it is firmly rooted in the country’s national interest and is supported by a united Lebanese front.
For far too long, Lebanon has paid the price for regional conflicts that have repeatedly left its people bearing the heaviest burden. Entire villages have been reduced to rubble, thousands of families have been displaced and vital infrastructure has been destroyed time and again. At the same time, the country has endured one of the worst economic crises in its history, with its currency collapsing, its institutions weakening and its brightest young minds leaving in search of opportunities abroad.
After years of hardship, the overwhelming majority of Lebanese, regardless of their political affiliation, share one common aspiration: to live in a country that enjoys stability, security and the chance to rebuild. Another war would not solve Lebanon’s problems, it would deepen them.
This is why the current negotiations deserve to be viewed through the lens of national interest rather than political ideology. The objective should not be to determine who can claim political victory but rather how Lebanon can emerge stronger, more secure and better positioned to focus on rebuilding its economy and restoring confidence in its institutions. If diplomacy can reduce the threat of war, encourage investment, allow displaced communities to return to their homes and enable the government to concentrate on economic recovery instead of crisis management, then every Lebanese citizen stands to benefit. Stability is not a concession to any party — it is an investment in Lebanon’s future.
However, diplomacy alone is not enough. Successful negotiations require a country that speaks with one voice. Lebanon has often approached critical national issues while burdened by internal divisions, competing political agendas and conflicting messages to the outside world. Such fragmentation weakens the country’s negotiating position before discussions even begin. A divided nation inevitably finds its leverage diminished, while a united nation negotiates with confidence and credibility. At this critical juncture, Lebanon’s greatest source of strength is not military capability or political rhetoric, it is the ability of its people and institutions to unite behind a single national objective.
Yet national unity cannot simply be demanded from the public. It must be earned by those entrusted with leading the negotiations. Lebanese citizens have every right to seek reassurance about the direction of these talks. Decades of conflict have understandably left many people cautious, even skeptical, about any engagement with Israel. Those concerns should neither be dismissed nor portrayed as obstacles to diplomacy. On the contrary, they reflect a genuine desire to ensure that Lebanon’s sovereignty, territorial integrity and national dignity remain fully protected. Building public confidence therefore becomes one of the government’s most important responsibilities.
This requires transparency, honest communication and an unwavering commitment to the national interest. The government must clearly explain the objectives of the negotiations and assure the Lebanese people that no agreement will involve concessions affecting the country’s sovereign rights, security or territorial integrity. The public deserves to know that every proposal will be evaluated according to one standard alone: whether it serves Lebanon’s long-term interests.
Such assurances are not merely political necessities — they are essential for creating the trust upon which national unity depends. When citizens believe that their leaders are negotiating from a position of principle rather than pressure, they are far more likely to stand behind the state.
Lebanon’s political diversity should not become an obstacle to that unity. The country has always been home to different political movements, religious communities and competing visions of its future. These differences are part of Lebanon’s democratic fabric and will continue to shape its political life. Yet there are moments in every nation’s history when partisan loyalties must give way to the larger national interest. This is one of those moments.
Whether one supports Hezbollah, opposes it or belongs to any other political current, every Lebanese has a shared stake in preserving the country’s security, protecting its sovereignty and creating the conditions that allow future generations to live in peace and prosperity.
Supporting the government’s negotiating efforts should therefore not be interpreted as abandoning deeply held political principles or forgetting the painful chapters of Lebanon’s history. Rather, it should be understood as an affirmation that the Lebanese state must remain the ultimate guardian of the nation’s interests.
At the same time, support for the negotiations should never mean granting the government a blank check. Citizens have every right — and indeed the duty — to demand accountability, transparency and regular communication throughout the process. Genuine national unity is built not on blind trust but on confidence that those entrusted with representing the country will neither compromise its sovereignty nor sacrifice its dignity under external pressure.
Lebanon has endured enough conflict, enough political paralysis and enough missed opportunities. It deserves a future in which its people are no longer consumed by the fear of another war but are instead focused on rebuilding their economy, educating their children, attracting investment and restoring the country’s historic role as a center of culture, commerce and dialogue in the region.
https://www.arabnews.com/node/2650892
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Palestinians between a rock and a hard place
YOSSI MEKELBERG
July 14, 2026
In the unfortunate reality of Israeli society, Palestinian citizens of Israel attract widespread public attention only under a few circumstances: when crime rates, especially homicides, rise within their communities; during elections, when the Jewish majority wonders how Palestinian parties might affect the formation of the next coalition government; and when one of their political representatives expresses an opinion that challenges the dominant narrative.
Far less attention is paid to their achievements. For instance, their representation in Israel’s healthcare sector is significantly higher than their proportion of the population, despite decades of neglect and discrimination.
The darker reality is that, since the beginning of the year, 154 Palestinian citizens of Israel have fallen victim to violent crime. This is a staggering figure but it becomes even more alarming when compared with the 24 homicide victims recorded among the remaining 80 percent of Israel’s population. The scale of the crisis, and the daily insecurity and fear experienced in these communities, becomes painfully obvious.
A decade ago, the homicide rate among Palestinians was approximately four times that of Jews; today, it is closer to 15 times higher and the gap continues to widen. Violence has become endemic. Much of it stems from organized crime, clan rivalries and the settling of criminal scores, but it also claims the lives of innocent bystanders and fuels domestic violence, affecting people of all ages.
It would be erroneous to place all the blame for the current situation on the present government. The neglect, discrimination and marginalization of Israel’s Palestinian minority have been allowed to fester since the establishment of the state in 1948. Some of this neglect has been deliberate, while much of it reflects long-standing political indifference. However, the situation has deteriorated significantly under the current government. With National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, whose political views are rooted in Kahanism, overseeing the police, the government’s apparent indifference to the almost-daily killings is deeply troubling and ingrained in its approach to Palestinians.
By contrast, during the brief Naftali Bennett-Yair Lapid government, when Labor Party minister Omer Bar-Lev was responsible for policing, the number of murders in the Palestinian community declined. This was achieved through more professional policing, a recognition of the severity of the crisis, greater cooperation with local communities and a determined effort to confront organized criminal gangs.
As if the situation were not already grave enough, many Palestinian citizens are blamed by their Jewish compatriots for failing to stop the violence within their own communities. This attitude stems variously from ignorance, hypocrisy, racism or, in many cases, a combination of all three.
Reducing the widespread violence requires a genuine partnership between all branches of government. This includes preventing the continued flow of illegal weapons, increasing proactive police operations, expanding the police presence in the areas most affected by violence and working closely with local leaders. It is easy for those living outside this violent reality to urge ordinary citizens to stand up to criminal gangs. Yet doing so often places them and their families at mortal risk, particularly when they have justifiably little confidence that the police will protect them.
Moreover, while many within the Jewish majority, and especially members of the current government, portray the high levels of violence in Palestinian communities as evidence of cultural differences, this narrative reflects not only appalling bias and prejudice but also an unwillingness to confront the state’s own failures.
The crisis is first and foremost a consequence of systemic neglect. Successive governments have failed to address both the immediate security crisis and the deeper social and economic conditions that enable organized crime to flourish and disempower the rest of the society. Chronic underinvestment in public services, discriminatory policies and unequal access to resources have all contributed to the problem.
There is a long list of laws that discriminate against Palestinian citizens of Israel, most notably the Nation-State Law. More recently, the Knesset passed legislation that, according to the human rights organization Adalah, provides substantial benefits to residents of towns with Jewish populations of between 35 percent and 55 percent that are classified as peripheral, according to state criteria. The use of Jewish demographic composition as a criterion for allocating state benefits leaves little doubt about the discriminatory logic underpinning such legislation.
Nominally, Palestinian citizens of Israel enjoy equal citizenship. But “nominally” is the operative word. Israel prides itself on being a liberal democracy but no single political party has ever won an outright parliamentary majority, making coalition governments inevitable. Despite comprising roughly one-fifth of the population, parties representing Palestinian citizens have been almost entirely excluded from governing coalitions, with only one notable exception.
In a political system where influence and resources are largely distributed through coalition participation, this exclusion leaves the Palestinian minority at a profound disadvantage. Symbolically, it sends a message of tolerated but not equal citizens. Without representation in government, their interests are rarely advanced effectively. This sorry situation shows no sign of changing under the present circumstances.
The short-lived Bennett-Lapid government marked a historic exception, with the United Arab List, led by Mansour Abbas, joining the governing coalition. By most practical measures, this partnership proved successful. Yet, for Benjamin Netanyahu and the opposition, Abbas’ participation became, in the most despicable way, a powerful tool for attacking the government.
Ironically, despite Netanyahu’s own long-standing policy of indirectly strengthening Hamas, he portrayed Abbas, and by extension the government, as somehow linked to Hamas. Such accusations rested largely on Abbas’ religious conservatism and, more fundamentally, on the fact that he represented the Palestinian citizens of Israel.
The horrific wave of killings within that community highlights a much deeper crisis. At first, from 1948, Palestinian citizens of Israel lived under military rule for 18 years and, even since the military administration ended, they have never been treated as fully equal to their Jewish neighbors. They are descendants of those Palestinians who survived the Nakba and remained within the borders of the newly established state of Israel rather than becoming refugees. Yet their Palestinian identity has never been fully recognized by the state. Instead, they are commonly referred to simply as “Arab Israelis,” while their Palestinian national identity is frequently denied or marginalized.
Addressing this crisis should be treated as a matter of national urgency. Israel’s political leadership, together with leaders across all sectors of society, must acknowledge the scale of the crisis facing the Palestinian community and declare it a national priority. The immediate objective must be to stop the violence. Beyond that, Israel needs a comprehensive, long-term national program aimed at creating a genuinely shared society — one in which all communities enjoy equal protection under the law, equal access to public services and opportunities, and equal participation in every aspect of national life. Only then can equality for the Palestinian citizens of Israel become the rule rather than the exception.
https://www.arabnews.com/node/2650890
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Ilan Pappé: The Crisis of Zionism and the Future of Palestine – EXCLUSIVE
July 15, 2026
Zionism is in crisis, and that crisis has given rise to a more violent, racist, and brutal form of it. This follows a familiar dialectic of history: a regime’s final chapter is often its most vicious.
As activists, we must first recognize that the inhumanity unfolding in Palestine today is also a symptom of the looming collapse of those who perpetrate it. This may offer us some hope, but it brings no comfort to those who suffer its consequences.
We must therefore pursue two goals: to shorten this period as much as possible, and to curb its brutality through civic and legal action, as well as solidarity with Palestinians on the ground who are defending themselves against genocide, ethnic cleansing, and apartheid.
What is Zionism Today?
Like any ideology, Zionism consists both of enduring principles and of their ongoing translation into changing realities on the ground. That translation shifts with circumstances: the size of the ideological movement, the level of resistance it faces, the strength of the global and regional coalitions supporting it, its material and human resources, and its internal cohesion.
Zionism’s core principles recast Judaism as a form of European nationalism; one that could not be fulfilled in Europe and therefore had to be pursued in Palestine. Its claim to Palestine was expressed in religious terms, even though the movement was secular and aimed to secularize and modernize Jewish life through the colonization of Palestine.
The paradox of appealing to a divine authority the movement itself did not accept in order to justify colonization was made to seem logical by presenting Zionism as a response to European antisemitism. Its early supporters, including both antisemites and a minority of Jews, accepted the claim that Jews could become equal Europeans only by being pushed out of Europe and assisted in building a new Europe in the land that had rejected them.
This fragile logic of turning religion into nationalism in response to European antisemitism, by claiming another people’s homeland long inhabited by an indigenous nation, was presented to the world as both rational and moral. Some still accept this narrative today, whether from ignorance or cynicism.
Even then, as now, selling this bizarre logic required a powerful lobby.
In Zionism’s early years, the idea was easier to promote because it emerged at a time when the immorality of colonialism was widely ignored. More importantly, from the start, Zionist planners understood that turning the idea into a project on the ground in Palestine would require force and coercion.
This exposes one of Zionism’s central falsehoods: force was not adopted in response to Palestinian resistance; the settlers arrived already prepared to impose themselves on the native people of Palestine.
This was not a new European logic: unwanted or unwelcome Europeans had often been settled outside the continent, usually in lands already inhabited by native peoples. These projects were never merely benevolent attempts to create havens for European outcasts; they were also profoundly violent efforts to remove indigenous populations in order to realize those visions.
Scholars have long described these ventures as settler-colonial projects, distinguishing them from more institutional forms of imperial colonialism, which established colonies in pursuit of European land, capital, labor, and global power. Yet the two were deeply intertwined: classical colonialism and settler colonialism often served one another’s ambitions to Europeanize the non-European world by force, frequently masking that violence as a civilizing mission grounded in Enlightenment values.
Once the pursuit of territory and the search for safety became established footholds in new lands, empires and settlers began fighting one another over these possessions. Nowadays we euphemistically call these conflicts the American War of Independence and Israel’s War of Independence.
The settlers did free themselves from the empires that had enabled their foothold, but they also sought to continue eliminating the native populations. Classical colonialism generally aimed to exploit indigenous peoples rather than eliminate them on a mass scale; settler colonialism, by contrast, viewed the continued presence of indigenous societies as an existential threat to the success of its projects.
For these principles to become reality, Zionism first needed the British Empire; without it, the movement stood little chance against Palestinian society.
Palestinians were initially slow to grasp the full nature of the colonization project, but once they understood its aim of displacement and replacement, they launched an anti-colonial struggle against it.
Without British force, the settlers could not have defeated that resistance. British support also allowed them to reject the more logical and moral position of arriving as guests seeking refuge in another people’s homeland, rather than claiming mastery over a land that was not theirs.
From Colonial Project to Global Coalition
After 1945, the Zionist project needed more than British imperial support; it had to prove useful to capitalism: American imperialism, Christian fundamentalism, white supremacist and Islamophobic movements, corrupt Middle Eastern regimes, and powerful global Jewish communities.
Its displacement-and-replacement project also depended on whether Palestinians could unite, sustain their liberation struggle, and build a counter coalition rooted in socialism, communism, humanism, pan-Arab and pan-Islamic solidarity, and an honest Judaism.
The balance of power between these coalitions is clear: it produced the ethnic cleansing of 1948, military rule over Palestinians in Israel from 1948 to 1966, the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip, the ethnic cleansing of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians up to 2022, and one of history’s most ruthless occupations, including the inhuman collective punishment of the Gaza blockade since 2007.
The counter coalition led by the Palestinian liberation movement achieved its greatest success through resilience: the determination to remain in the homeland and resist the ongoing occupation and colonization, or to struggle for it from exile.
This resilience disrupted every effort to complete Zionism’s project of displacement and replacement.
The Transformation of Israeli Zionism
Until 2022, one early precondition for the Zionist project’s success and for its ambition to become both regime and state remained largely hidden from the global public: the need for social cohesion around a newly invented national Jewish identity.
Until 1977, secular Zionists imposed this cohesion through domination over two politically marginalized and economically disempowered Jewish groups: Orthodox Jews and Mizrahim, or Arab Jews.
A more nationalistic current of European Zionism, long defeated by Labor Zionism, then built a powerful coalition with these two groups.
Yet, because Labor Zionism had abandoned socialism early on and remained loyal to the project of displacement and replacement, the ideological distance between the right-wing Zionist movement seeking power and Labor Zionism holding it until 1977 was far smaller than it appeared.
Labor Zionism sustained the displacement-and-replacement project through international support, especially from the West, the indifference of Arab governments, and the services Israel provided to American imperialism in the region.
Israel’s political right needed to distinguish itself from the project’s founders and did so by intensifying every aspect of Zionism —be it violence toward Palestinians or intransigence towards secular Judaism.
The result was a lethal fusion of nationalism and religion that recast Judaism as a faith of hatred, violence, inhumanity, and greed. This new form of Zionism recognized no limits: the state escalated its brutality toward Palestinians, committed genocide in Gaza, carried out ethnic cleansing in the West Bank, and subjected Palestinian citizens of Israel to institutionalized harassment. Israel’s new rulers also attacked secular Jews, portraying them as weak and anti-Jewish, and demanded their submission to the transformation of Israel into a Jewish theocracy.
The Transformation of Israeli Zionism
This intensified form of Zionism is increasingly difficult for the global coalition that has long sustained it to accept, and it offers no route to social cohesion within Israel.
Driven by messianism, it is expanding across five fronts, stretching the army beyond capacity, straining ties with former allies in the United States, and mobilizing global civil society in unprecedented ways—not only against Israel’s policies, but against the legitimacy of the regime itself. A strategy based on destroying Gaza, policing the West Bank, colonizing southern Lebanon and southern Syria, and confronting Iran by force can survive only within a war economy, and only at the price of deepening international isolation.
For now, the war economy benefits from its ties to capitalism, the security and securitization industries, manufactured Russophobic fears in the West, the likely deliberate misreading of China’s global ambitions, and long-standing Islamophobic warmongering.
But for how long? The Gulf states have now learned, as we warned them, that normalization with Israel would not only legitimize the displacement-and-replacement project in Palestine, but also endanger their own economies and stability. How many in the capitalist world still see this state as an asset rather than a liability?
Yet cynical calculations within the coalition sustaining Israel will not, by themselves, end the project. The counter coalition, led for decades by the global Left and able during the Cold War to restrain the opposing coalition to some extent, now depends on civil society outside Palestine becoming a political force that links struggles against local economic and social injustice with the struggle for justice in Palestine. There are encouraging signs, familiar to us all. Yet we are also frustrated that they have not yet become a transformative force capable of ending genocide, ethnic cleansing, and apartheid.
Zionism is rotting at its foundations, and in its current form the project is unlikely to survive as a state. We should therefore begin discussing this possibility now, along with the consequences of such a collapse; not only in terms of a one-state or two-state solution, but also regarding when this conversation should take place and who should lead it.
Preparing for Decolonization
Modern history offers many examples of societies moving from colonization to decolonization, from apartheid to equality, and from authoritarianism to democracy.
Such transformations have usually depended on internal liberation struggles combined with strong external solidarity, sometimes including intervention.
Historical experience also shows that change is more likely to be successful, peaceful, and constructive when led by the local liberation movement itself. It further shows that liberation requires a clear vision: without social and economic justice alongside political freedom, decolonization has too often become bloody and destructive, freeing some while devastating others.
For now, however, decolonization in Palestine begins with an existential imperative: both the movement within Palestine and international solidarity rightly prioritize urgency over strategy.
The time for strategy will come, and when it does, it should be led by the next Palestinian generation: deeply aware of this history, resilient under oppression, and ready, I believe, to guide the future process of decolonization and de-Zionization.
In this vision, as I understand it, there is room for the millions of Jews living today in Israel since the main Palestinian impulse has always been to live a normal and natural life that was denied to them for more than a century. It might be difficult in days of genocide to hang on to that impulse, but I do hope it will survive their chapter of inhumanity.
If some, or even many, Israeli Jews are willing to embrace that vision, it will be possible to build a free Palestine where Jews, Muslims, and Christians share a normal life together. Such a country could become a beacon of economic, social, and ecological justice. As the cradle of our religions, Palestine has the potential once again to inspire humanity through coexistence rather than domination.
For that reason, the struggle for a free Palestine remains one of the most legitimate, moral, and urgent causes of our time. The increasingly desperate attempts to delegitimize this struggle will ultimately fail, because the fate of Palestine is inseparable from our own.
When Palestine thrives, we all thrive.
The light at the end of the dark tunnel we are in today will lead us to a free Palestine.
A future Palestine can become a mosaic of cultural, ethnic, and religious identities, genuinely coexisting in justice and equality. As the cradle of our religions, it has the potential to become a beacon of economic, social, and ecological justice.
Such a future would enable us to confront the real challenges facing humanity: the ecological crisis, widespread poverty, famine, and the epidemics that continue to torment millions of our fellow human beings.
https://www.palestinechronicle.com/ilan-pappe-the-crisis-of-zionism-and-the-future-of-palestine-exclusive/
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Preparing for Regional Escalation: Iran Appears to Be Pre-Empting the US’ Attack Strategy
July 15, 2026
By Robert Inlakesh
The US Trump administration sought to weaponize diplomacy once again against the Islamic Republic of Iran and implement a surprise attack strategy – this time, Tehran appears to have preempted the American-Israeli plot.
The Iran-US Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) officially died this week, but in reality it was terminated on June 26 with the Lebanon-Israel deal that Washington brokered. The reason why was simple: the United States decided to print on paper a new deal that violated the former by granting Israel de facto permission to maintain a belligerent occupation of southern Lebanese lands.
Throughout the month that the MoU technically held, the US committed various violations of a number of clauses of the agreement, including by direct threats from Donald Trump himself to assassinate the entire Iranian negotiating team. But the Lebanon issue was far more indicative of where things were heading than the limited skirmishes in the Persian Gulf and threats to commit war crimes.
Clause 1 of the MoU concerned the ensuring of the war’s termination on all fronts, with Lebanon being explicitly mentioned. Tehran made it clear that this meant a full withdrawal of Israeli occupation forces from southern Lebanon and the protection of Lebanese sovereignty.
Instead of implementing the clause, Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu coordinated a careful approach to the Lebanon war, one that would not result in a withdrawal or end to the war, while simultaneously being careful not to provoke any Iranian retaliatory strikes. Therefore, the US worked with Israel to develop a new conspiracy. This involved the use of the US-proxy regime in Beirut to stir division within Lebanon, an attempt to force the Lebanese army to clash with Hezbollah, combined with an initiative to pressure neighboring Syria to invade the Bekaa Valley region in order to take on Hezbollah.
Meanwhile, as this plot was developing, the Israelis returned to the pre-March 2 status quo more or less in Lebanon – Hezbollah froze its retaliatory operations, while Israel continued to blow up civilian homes, bomb on a lower scale, while maintaining its presence inside south Lebanon.
A US military advisory force is being deployed to Beirut in order to guide the Lebanese army on its newly agreed-upon mission to clash with Hezbollah, the stated goal of which is to disarm the movement. Speculation also has it that the US may even be considering deploying thousands of combat troops into Lebanon in order to help prop up the regime in Beirut if the situation goes sideways, although this assertion is yet to be fully substantiated.
The Syrian Observatory for Human Rights (SOHR) has been documenting the ongoing mobilization and military buildup along the Lebanese-Syria border, as Trump himself has repeatedly stated in public that he seeks to use Syria’s forces to invade Lebanon.
Hezbollah’s sudden silence and lack of operations indicate that it has been taking these threats very seriously. Fighting Israel alone has been a battle that it has proven capable of managing, but preparations to fight US-proxies inside Lebanon, the possible collapse of the Lebanese Army into warring factions, and combating a Syrian invasion all demand new defensive and even perhaps offensive preparations.
Iran, for its part, was clearly also coordinated more heavily with Yemen’s Ansarallah leadership. The Yemen front never fully opened during the war earlier this year. Tehran openly challenged Saudi Arabia’s blockade on Yemen, while Ansarallah was mobilizing its forces and declared that it would fight to break the blockade. When Riyadh took the decision to strike Sana’a International Airport, this reopened the Yemen-Saudi War for the first time since early 2022, collapsing the UN-brokered ceasefire.
Yemen’s role in the renewal of the regional war will add major pressure, especially as it holds the card to shut down the Bab Al-Mandab Strait, imposing a blockade in the Red Sea that will choke the global economy further than it has been under the pressure of the Strait of Hormuz blockade. Ansarallah’s capabilities have also significantly developed since 2022, meaning that they will be able to aid Iran in their war efforts against targets in the Arabian Peninsula.
If the US succeeds in pressuring Damascus to launch an assault on Lebanon, then Iraq’s Popular Mobilization Units (PMU) have already threatened to enter the fight on the ground. The PMU would likely seek to seize areas in eastern Syria, like Deir Ezzor, which would open up new supply lines inside Syrian territory and put enormous pressure on its forces.
A US-Israeli plot to collapse the Lebanese State in order to weaken Hezbollah is a major gamble to say the least, one which will inevitably lead to a rise in regional sectarianism. It is also very likely that Arab Gulf media will also act to portray the conflict as a new Sunni-Shia war, as they begin to take more active roles in support of the US-Israeli war effort.
Ultimately, it appears as if the Iranians are not taking any chances and are being proactive, which has been reflected in the scale of their strikes on US assets in the region, including a surprise attack that took out US ATACMS missiles in Kuwait earlier this week.
A return to full-scale war this time around could trigger a series of conflicts that will spiral out of control and thus make any easy off-ramp impossible. The Global economic repercussions will be horrendous, as the only end to the war is total victory or total defeat. The US will be put in a position where it will be forced to withdraw from the region, while Israel is betting on the idea of Iran being significantly weakened as a result of the conflict’s continuation.
No side appears to be backing down, so unless the US suddenly decides to perform a 180-degree pivot in its approach, West Asia is about to erupt into total chaos.
https://www.palestinechronicle.com/preparing-for-regional-escalation-iran-appears-to-be-pre-empting-the-us-attack-strategy/
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A Circus Tent amid the Rubble: A Safe Space for Gaza’s War Weary Children
July 15, 2026
By Shaimaa Eid
In a place where overcrowded displacement camps leave little room to breathe, and the suffering of war continues to deepen, the role of the tent is changing day by day. Once a temporary refuge for families fleeing bombardment, it has become a space for learning, recreation, and psychological support—a fragile attempt to reclaim a small part of the life that war has taken away.
In one of the displacement camps in Nuseirat, in central Gaza, the tent is no longer merely a shelter protecting displaced families from the heat and cold. It has become a small space that embraces children and their postponed dreams.
Dozens of children gather there every day to learn circus skills and take part in recreational activities designed to ease the effects of war and the deep psychological trauma and stress it has left behind.
Amid the sounds of children’s voices and bursts of laughter, Majd al-Midana, known among the children as ‘Uncle Majood’, works tirelessly to create a space of joy and hope using the simplest of tools. Displaced from Gaza City’s Al-Shujaiyya neighborhood, the 20-year-old has drawn on his previous experience in circus arts to support children burdened by a war that has forced responsibilities upon them far beyond their years.
Al-Midana told The Palestine Chronicle that the project, called “Circles of Joy,” aims to help Gaza’s children cope with the hardships they have endured during the war while giving them a break from the heavy responsibilities that have come to dominate their daily lives. “From morning until night, many children find themselves standing in lines for water and food or helping their families shoulder the burdens of life in the displacement camps,” he said.
“Instead of spending their time near the rubble or among the dangerous remnants of war and unexploded ordnance that could cost them their lives, we wanted to bring them into this tent, which is filled with activities and games,” he added.
Al-Midana said that what Gaza’s children need today goes beyond traditional forms of entertainment, stressing that the war has left deep psychological scars that cannot be ignored.
“Children need real psychological first aid and continuous support sessions that help them overcome the tragic reality they are living through. What we are trying to offer here is a glimmer of hope and a message that there is life waiting for them beyond destruction and war,” he said.
He emphasized that the children of Gaza deserve to experience childhood like any other children in the world—to play, learn, and live normally after being deprived of their most basic rights since the war began.
Despite the severe lack of resources, al-Midana has continued his work using simple tools that survived the destruction.
“The tools we use today to teach children circus skills were pulled from under the rubble after the school where we used to keep them was targeted in Gaza City,” he explained.
Yet the impact of the war remained clearly visible in the children’s faces and behavior. According to al-Midana, their level of interaction is very different from what it was before the war.
“The trauma is still very visible in the children. The fear and terror they have lived through over the past months are reflected in the way they interact and participate in activities,” he said.
Among the children taking part in the activities is Abdullah Islim, who was displaced from Gaza City after his family’s home was destroyed. Sitting with the circus equipment he trains with every day, Abdullah described what the project has meant to him.
Abdullah told The Palestine Chronicle that learning circus skills with ‘Captain Majd’ had given children a rare opportunity to simply be children again.
“We train with Captain Majd in circus skills and different activities. Instead of spending our time in water lines or waiting for food and carrying responsibilities bigger than our age, we now have a place where we can play and feel that we are still children,” he said.
“This tent has helped us entertain ourselves and try to forget what we witnessed during the war—bombardment, destruction, and massacres—even though those scenes are still stuck in our memories,” he added.
Recalling the long journey of displacement his family endured, Abdullah told us, “We were displaced many times in search of safety, and we experienced fear and shelling over and over again. Since we started participating with Captain Majd, we feel that life has become a little better. He teaches us circus skills and gives us time that is different from the atmosphere of war.”
Despite the recreational nature of these exercises and performances, those running the initiative stressed that their primary goal is to provide psychological support, helping children cope with the effects of war and rebuild their sense of safety.
For his part, Tamer Elyan, one of the supervisors at Al-Majd camp, told The Palestine Chronicle that the camp’s management welcomed the initiative from the outset because of its positive impact on children’s mental health.
“The children in Gaza have been exposed during the war to extremely harsh experiences. Some witnessed direct bombardment, others lost family members or friends, and many suffer from psychological disorders and accumulated trauma,” he said.
Elyan said the camp urgently needed initiatives like this to help children break free from the harsh routine imposed by displacement.
“Children spend long hours waiting for water or food, and they live in very difficult conditions inside tents. There was an urgent need for recreational and psychological activities that could help them regain part of their childhood,” he added.
Elyan pointed out that the initiative had received overwhelming support from both children and their families, explaining that participation was no longer limited to children living in the camp but had expanded to include children from neighboring camps as well.
“We have noticed great enthusiasm and clear happiness among both the children and their parents. There is growing demand to join these activities because of the positive impact they have on the children’s psychological well-being,” he said.
In Gaza, where war has taken away children’s schools, playgrounds, and homes, a small tent in the heart of a displacement camp is trying to restore part of what has been lost. Between circus training and scattered laughter, children find a brief refuge that eases the burden of war and restores a fragment of a childhood still struggling to survive amid the rubble.
https://www.palestinechronicle.com/a-circus-tent-amid-the-rubble-a-safe-space-for-gazas-war-weary-children/
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Why Did You Leave the Horse Alone? A Literary Reportage from Gaza
July 14, 2026
By Hani al-Salmy
In times of war, people do not leave their homes the way they leave for a picnic or a business trip. They depart carrying a shared illusion that their absence will be brief. Some lock the front door and slip the key into their pocket like a talisman promising return. Others leave cups of tea still warm on the table, their steam rising like suspended hope. Children’s toys remain asleep on their beds, certain that the laughter of their owners will return before sunset.
But war is a ravenous creature. It keeps no appointments and grants no walls the chance to bid farewell to those who built their lives within them.
After years of displacement and wandering, the old question—”Where do you live?”—no longer matters. It has been replaced by a sharper, more haunting one:
“What did you leave behind?”
What precious thing remained there, guarding your memories, becoming the invisible nail that pierces your heart each time you close your eyes?
In this literary reportage, we meet people whose souls never truly left the places they fled. Men, women, children, and elders speak of the dearest things they were forced to abandon, until it seems that the abandoned objects are the ones still inhabiting them—not the other way around.
Ahmed Abu Ouda, 9
Al-Shati Refugee Camp, Gaza
When Childhood Becomes a Tin Toy Car
“I did not leave my toy behind. I left the child I used to be.”
I did not leave behind a plastic toy. I left my entire childhood nailed to the small room that overlooked our lemon tree—the tree whose morning shadow gently reached my bed at sunrise.
My little red toy car always stood proudly beneath the bed. Every night before I fell asleep, I whispered to its tiny rubber wheels, “Tomorrow we’ll race again, all the way to the end of the hallway.”
Then came the day we fled.
Panic swallowed every corner of the house. I crawled beneath the bed searching for my car while darkness and explosions filled the room. My mother was crying as she hurriedly dressed my baby sister, putting her shoes on the wrong feet. My father shouted in a voice I had never heard before that the shells were getting closer and that we had to leave immediately.
I ran toward the door. My body moved forward, but my heart kept turning back. Again and again, I looked behind me, waiting for a miracle—as though my little car might understand what was happening, roll after me on its own, and leap into the pocket of the raincoat I was wearing.
In the displacement camp, I tried to outsmart loss. I fashioned another car from an empty tin can and a piece of wire. It could roll, but it was silent. It did not know the sound of our tiled floor. It carried none of the scent of my mother calling me in for lunch while I was still playing outside.
Today, when I look at my hands, roughened by cold and hardship, I realize that I did not leave behind a toy. I left behind the child I once was. Since that day, I have been living in the body of a nine-year-old, carrying the weariness of an old man.
Layan al-Masri, 11
Deir Al-Balah Refugee Camp
“Ward”: A Doll Frozen in Time
“War does not steal objects alone. It steals our ability to believe that beautiful things can last.”
My bed stood in the brightest corner of the room, beside the window where the first thread of morning sunlight gently touched the face of my cloth doll. Every day, she sat patiently on my pillow, as though waiting for me to comb her soft yellow yarn hair before I put on my school uniform and hurried off to class.
I called her Ward—Rose.
She was never just a doll. She was the keeper of my secrets. I told her about my friends, about the teacher who praised my handwriting, and about the flowered dress my father had promised to buy me for Eid.
When the bombing began to shake our neighborhood, my mother hurriedly packed a small bag of clothes and whispered, trying to sound calm, “We’ll be back in a few days. This nightmare will soon be over.”
So I left Ward sleeping peacefully beneath her blanket. I didn’t want her to get dirty on the road.
Days became months. Seasons passed. I grew older in displacement camps where childhood disappeared too quickly. Yet my doll remained there, forever imprisoned in the age I left behind.
On cold nights, I imagine her covered with dust and ash, or perhaps still sitting on my pillow with her eyes open, faithfully watching the door, believing that one day I will unlock it and come home.
War taught me a lesson far too early. It did not take away a cloth doll stuffed with cotton. It stole something far greater—the innocent certainty that beautiful things can remain where we leave them, untouched by absence and untouched by fire.
Um Mohamed Abu Zeid, 74
Jabaliya Refugee Camp
A Lifetime Confined Within Wood
“I left no glittering gold behind.”
I left no glittering gold behind, for we sold it piece by piece years ago to educate our sons, marry off our daughters, and build walls to shelter them. Nor did I leave luxurious furniture to weep over, for whatever is crafted from wood, time can fashion anew.
But what tears at my heart whenever I close my eyes is that I left behind a small wooden box—antique in appearance, inherited from my mother like a sacred trust passed down through generations.
That box held within it an entire geography of our souls: old black-and-white photographs of faces that have long departed us; letters woven with the language of longing, written to me by my husband during the years of our youth, before our marriage; the birth certificate of my firstborn son, my deed of passage into motherhood; and a soft lock of hair I kept from the day my first granddaughter entered this world with her first cry.
I used to open this box during holidays and family gatherings, like someone opening a cabinet of wonders, telling the children gathered around me the story behind every paper and the secret held within every small keepsake.
When the shells of displacement rained down upon us, it never occurred to me to carry it. We were gripped by the illusion that we would return in only a few days.
Now, amid the dust of exile, I feel that my entire life—with all its joys and sorrows—remains confined within that small wooden box. It is as though my memory itself was uprooted from my body and chose to dwell there instead.
I live far from it.
And it lives as a stranger to me.
Hani Al-Salmi, 48
Khan Yunis Refugee Camp
The Ink of a Life Left Between Shelves
“I left my library behind.”
Those shelves stretching across the walls were never merely wood supporting paper and ink. They were my autobiography, written without my ever intending to write it.
In the margin of every book, there is a note I penciled down in a moment of revelation. Between the pages sleeps a dried rose I once picked from an old garden, or a newspaper clipping preserving a story that inspired me, or the first seed of an idea for a novel that came to me unexpectedly one night and has yet to be completed.
There, between those covers, I left secret manuscripts that never saw the light, letters filled with affection from readers who crossed my path, dedications written by writers and friends I cherished, and photographs of me smiling after book-signing ceremonies that now seem to belong to another lifetime.
When the hour of forced departure arrived, I carried nothing but a small, meager bag. Saving one’s soul in a homeland consumed by fire was far heavier than carrying paper.
But ever since that terrible day, I have felt that a part of my language, and of the way I understood the world itself, remained crucified there between those shelves—shelves that understood me and recognized the contours of my anxieties better than I knew them myself.
War, in all its brutality, does not merely burn paper and books. It strives to burn the collective and individual memory written upon them.
Yet my only consolation is this: words born from blood do not die. They know how to survive. They know how to be born again in the heart of their author.
Noor Khalil, 23
Rafah Refugee Camp
The Wedding Dress and the Scent of Beginnings
“Barely four months after my wedding, I left behind a life that had barely begun.”
Barely four months had passed since my marriage. I was still arranging the details of our little home with the innocent excitement of a child painting her first masterpiece, as though an entire lifetime stood waiting for us just beyond the front door.
I chose the curtains with great care so they would soften the morning light. I planted a jasmine sapling on the balcony so our home would breathe its fragrance. I hung my white wedding dress inside a wooden wardrobe that still carried the scent of new beginnings.
One evening, I whispered to my husband that I would keep the dress untouched until the day our future daughter would see it.
When the bombardment shattered our quiet life, there was no time to think about the dress or the furniture we had chosen piece by piece.
In the darkness and panic, I searched for only one thing:
My husband’s hand.
Fear drove us toward the unknown, and our home remained behind us, locked like a story interrupted before it could reach its ending—a poem whose final verse was never written.
What returns to me in dreams is not the dress itself, nor the furniture that may now lie beneath the rubble.
It is the scent of those first beginnings.
The fragrance that filled every room and made me believe I was finally safe.
Now I understand that this cursed war did not merely postpone our lives.
It suspended our honeymoon, our hopes, and our most tender dreams between two unfamiliar walls in a displacement camp—walls that do not know our names, and that cannot tell us whether our home still stands guarding our memories, or whether it has already become dust.
Youssef Abu Shanab, 26
Al-Shati Refugee Camp
The Possibility Buried Behind a Window
“War buries not only people, but also the lives they might have lived.”
She was not my beloved in the usual sense of the word. Nor was I her secret admirer writing love poems beneath the light of a lamp.
We simply exchanged quiet morning greetings—brief moments filled with awkwardness—as though the narrow alley between our houses understood, without either of us speaking, that a story waited there, patiently postponing itself until one of us found the courage to begin it.
Every morning she stepped onto her balcony to sprinkle water over the jasmine flowers. Every morning I found another excuse to open my own window a few minutes earlier than necessary, pretending to admire the sky while stealing a glance at the face that had somehow become my definition of reassurance.
I never wrote her a letter. I never touched her hand. But I memorized the exact hour she appeared each morning with greater precision than I ever memorized the days of the week.
On the terrible morning of displacement, her balcony stood empty. The jasmine swayed beneath the weight of smoke.
I left with my family, driven by fear and by the sound of screams.
To this day, I do not know whether she fled before I did or remained behind beneath the roof of the house where I first learned what silent love looked like. What I left behind was never merely the walls of my home.
I left behind the one possibility that might have changed the course of my life—the possibility that one day I might become her husband, and the father of children who carried something of her face.
War does not kill lovers with bombs alone.
Its cruelest crime is that it kills the tender stories life never had the chance to begin.
Samer Al-Attar, 45
Deir Al-Balah
The Classroom That Still Waits
“I did not leave behind a school. I left behind forty waiting seats.”
Before taking my final step across the threshold, I quietly closed the classroom door, just as I had done at the end of every ordinary school day.
The students’ notebooks still lay scattered across their desks. White chalk dust lingered along the edges of the blackboard, preserving the remnants of an unfinished lesson about the tools needed to build the future.
The sirens arrived before the school bell ever could. I knew the names of all forty of my students by heart. I knew whose voice trembled when reading aloud, who loved books, who was too shy to raise a hand. And who needed a word of kindness far more than another perfect mark in the grade book.
When displacement swept us away, I felt something inside me tear apart.
It was as though I had abandoned forty orphaned seats, still faithfully waiting for the children who would never return to claim them.
Today, I do not miss the building of stone and concrete. I ache instead for the echo of children’s laughter filling those narrow hallways and breathing life into the walls.
War does not destroy schools with shells alone. It destroys, inside every child, the long and fragile years needed to believe that tomorrow is worth preparing for—and that the future is something still worth learning.
Fouad al-Masri, 53
Khan Younis Refugee Camp
The Birds I Set Free
“Sometimes the greatest act of love is opening the cage.”
For more than twenty years, I raised rare and colorful birds. Some were gifts from dear friends, wrapped in affection. Others I bought only after months of saving from my daily earnings.
I knew every voice among them. Even blindfolded, I could have recognized each bird by its song.
Every morning, they welcomed the sunrise before I did.
Their chorus filled the house so completely that it seemed the dawn itself took its cue from their singing. On the day displacement reached our neighborhood, I did not hesitate.
I opened every cage.
There was no way I could carry them with me through the chaos, and I could not bear the thought of them dying slowly from hunger or burning alive behind iron bars.
I stood there, caught between tears and wonder, watching them disappear into the gray sky. I did not know whether they would survive in freedom or perish beneath falling shrapnel.
For years, I comforted myself with the old saying that birds were created to fly free. Yet my heart has remained tied to those disappearing wings ever since.
Today, whenever I hear the song of a passing bird outside the refugee camp, my heart begins to flutter.
And I still ask myself, with the innocence of a child:
Could this be one of mine?
https://www.palestinechronicle.com/why-did-you-leave-the-horse-alone-a-literary-reportage-from-gaza/
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