Palestine

Iran’s parliamentary speaker Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf says US has ‘no alternative but to accept’ Tehran’s 14-point proposal to end war.

The same tiny tungsten cubes that spray out of Israeli bombs, causing devastating internal injuries to people in Gaza are being found in wounded civilians in Lebanon, war surgeon Dr Tahir Mohammed says. He draws parallels between what Israel is doing in both places and describes the weapons as “indiscriminate”.

More than 30 Global Sumud Flotilla vessels have reached Marmaris on Turkiye’s coast, preparing for the final leg of their mission to break Israel’s siege of Gaza. At the end of April, Israel intercepted 22 boats off Greece and detained activists.

Al Jazeera’s Tareq Abu Azzoum reports from Al-Shati Refugee Camp, where families search through the rubble after overnight Israeli airstrikes despite a ceasefire. Residents described the attacks as a breach of the truce, saying they lost shelter, belongings and the only places they had left to stay.

In the occupied West Bank, a marathon is a political statement. Palestinians ran alongside the separation wall today, a structure that cuts them off from their land, their families, and even the sea. Al Jazeera’s @leila.shw reports from Bethlehem.

I am a journalist; storytelling is my craft.

Words are the tools I turn to, again and again, to make sense of events and shape them into narratives that do them justice. And yet, when it comes to the genocide in Gaza, my birthplace, language feels wholly inadequate.

There is a limit to what words can say. At a certain point, the instinct to describe, to explain and to make sense of what has unfolded begins to break down under the sheer scale of devastation and pain.

One scene from the start of the war has lingered in my mind: A bulldozer burying 111 unidentified bodies, wrapped in bright blue bags, in a mass grave. It appeared briefly in the endless scroll of social media before it disappeared again, replaced by yet another shocking scene. And another.

A hundred and eleven souls about whom we knew nothing; not their names, not their dreams or what their final moments were. A New York Times headline read: More Than 100 Bodies Are Delivered to a Mass Grave in Southern Gaza. Omission of the perpetrator aside, could that possibly capture the magnitude of such an event?

Every attempt to describe in words what Israel has inflicted on Gaza and its people has felt reductive, compressing something vast, ongoing and staggeringly lethal into language that cannot possibly hold it. What remains is a tension at the heart of the act of telling itself; knowing no account will ever be enough, how do you tell stories of such unspeakable horrors?

This tension lies at the heart of the Gaza Genocide Tapestry, which I am co-curating and which will be displayed at this year’s Venice Biennale. It is an art project that brings together Palestinian women in occupied Palestine and refugee camps in Lebanon and Jordan to document Gaza’s destruction in real time. They tell these stories in the way they know best: Needle and thread.

Through 100 embroidered panels, each composed of 55,000 stitches, these women have created a testimonial that refuses to let the world forget what has been done and to whom.

Each panel tells a fragment of what has happened: A journalist weeping over his child’s dead body; young girls with empty pots being crushed at a soup kitchen; a child crying as her world crumbles around her.

Some of these images forced themselves into the public consciousness, if only for a moment; Khalid Nabhan hugging his dead granddaughter, the “soul of his soul”, for the last time before joining her a year later, or Dr Hussam Abu Safia walking towards a tank on the orders of Israeli soldiers, to then never be seen again.

But most images from Gaza are not granted that pause. They pass without names, context or farewell.

The tapestry defies this. To embroider is to decide something is worth the effort – hours, days and weeks of labour. This is to insist it is not lost to the sheer volume of images that pass briefly before our eyes.

A national archive in thread

The Gaza Genocide Tapestry is a new chapter of the award-winning Palestine History Tapestry Project, which I co-chair alongside Gaza-born designer Ibrahim Muhtadi. Following in the tradition of the famous Bayeux Tapestry and the Great Tapestry of Scotland, it is the largest body of Palestinian embroidery narrating the history of Palestine and its people.

The tapestry was started in 2011 in Oxford by Jan Chalmers, a British nurse who lived and worked in Gaza for two years in the 1960s. An avid embroiderer, Jan was previously involved with the Keiskamma History Tapestry, which chronicles the history of South Africa’s Xhosa people and now hangs in the South African parliament.

Recognising the centuries-old embroidery tradition of Palestinians, tatreez, Jan believed a Palestinian history tapestry was in order. I met Jan in 2013 in Oxford during my postgraduate studies. That is when I first joined this invaluable effort.

Tatreez, recognised by UNESCO in 2021, has long expressed Palestinian heritage and belonging. Its motifs encoded identity, place and social status. After the 1948 Nakba, it became a means of preserving Palestinian culture in the face of attempted erasure. Today it is something else again: Testimony.

Not long after Israel unleashed its devastating military assault on Gaza in 2023, the tapestry found new momentum by merging with the Palestine Museum US, an independent institution founded and led by Palestinian American entrepreneur Faisal Saleh. The tapestry is now housed at the museum in Woodbridge, Connecticut, and travels from there for exhibits worldwide.

It was within this expanded framework that the Gaza Genocide Tapestry took shape. Jan, Ibrahim, Faisal, and I came together to discuss how best to document the genocide. We initially created two panels to mark this dark moment in Palestinian history – Gaza on Fire and The Palestinian Phoenix. Faisal then proposed we do 100 panels focused solely on Gaza.

The challenge of producing in a single year what had previously taken a decade was formidable, but it was an urgency dictated by an unfolding genocide and made possible by the scale, visibility and global reach the museum provided.

United in pain

Women in Gaza were initially among the most active contributors to the Palestine History Tapestry. Their work was vibrant and meticulous, and offered them a means of support. But as bombardment intensified, most became unreachable, often displaced multiple times. Materials could not enter Gaza, and finished panels could not leave.

Gaza’s women became the subjects of the story, rather than its narrators.

But the tapestry, at its core, is a kind of “lam shamel” (Arabic for family reunion), as one embroiderer put it. Despite borders and forced displacement, the labour of Palestinian women everywhere converges into a single visual record of the Palestinian experience.

For Iman Shehabi, Basma Natour and the dozen women in Ein el-Hilweh refugee camp, embroidery is how they make a living. But the tapestry project, they said, “restored” a part of their “dignity”.

“It was a space where heritage pulsed, and where our needles stitched both our pains and our hopes,” they wrote to us in a letter upon completion of their panels.

And it is not only the embroiderers who contributed. One of the panels in the Gaza Genocide Tapestry, embroidered by Shahla Mahareeq in Ramallah, was based on an image of Hind Rajab illustrated by London-based artist Khadija Said.

A panel of blindfolded men, arbitrarily detained by Israeli soldiers in Gaza, was painted by Haifa-based lawyer and rights activist Janan Abdu, a Palestinian citizen of Israel. It was embroidered by Bothaina Youssef in Lebanon’s Ein el-Hilweh refugee camp.

Another artwork by Gaza-based artist Mohammed Alhaj, depicting displacement in Gaza, was also embroidered in Lebanon by Kifah Kurdieh, before a million people in southern Lebanon were themselves displaced.

The process of putting together the Gaza Genocide Tapestry has been painstaking. For more than a year, Faisal, Jan, Ibrahim and I held weekly meetings to research and select representative panels across various themes and coordinate the work. Each panel had to be translated by Ibrahim into a format that could be embroidered, then sent to a woman to stitch through field coordinators in each location.

There were constant questions, both ethical and practical. What do we choose to include, and what is left out? What does it mean to translate suffering into a stitched pattern?

At the Venice Biennale

Starting May 9, the Gaza Genocide Tapestry will be exhibited publicly at Palazzo Mora under the title:
“- – – – – – – – – – -” *
*Gaza – No Words – See The Exhibit

It will be available for viewing through November.

When we were informed in November last year that our biennale submission was selected, I felt a complicated kind of recognition. On one hand, it is an honour and a chance for this work, and the women behind it, to be seen on one of the world’s most prominent cultural stages.

On the other hand, it captured the paradox of a world increasingly willing to name what is happening in Gaza, to look it in the eye, call it a genocide, and yet remain unable or unwilling to stop it. What does it say about humanity when art becomes a primary site of real-time testimony because political systems have failed?

I have no simple answer. What I know is this: Palestinian women continue to tell these stories and demand accountability. Theirs is a collective response to my late mentor Refaat Alareer’s final instruction before he was killed: “If I must die, you must live to tell my story.”

The CPJ says the ‘lack of concrete progress’ in the FBI investigation represents a failure by the US government.

The Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) has demanded a “public progress update” from United States authorities on the FBI probe into the Israeli military’s killing of Palestinian-American Al Jazeera journalist Shireen Abu Akleh, 51, who was shot dead in the occupied West Bank in 2022.

In an open letter to the Department of Justice (DOJ) and FBI chief Kash Patel, the CPJ said on Thursday evening that “the effectively stagnant status of this case is inconsistent with ensuring the security of US citizens anywhere in the world.”

It said the “lack of concrete progress” represents a failure by the US government to respond to the “killing of one of its citizens by a foreign military”.

It noted that there had been no formal interviews with witnesses, “despite the willingness of multiple witnesses to cooperate”, and no signs of FBI activity to gather evidence in Israel or Palestine.

Longtime TV correspondent for Al Jazeera Arabic, Abu Akleh, was covering Israeli army raids in the West Bank city of Jenin when she was killed by Israeli forces on May 11, 2022. She was wearing a clearly marked press vest when she was shot dead.

Israel initially accused Palestinian fighters of her death, but the Israeli military later released a statement saying “it is not possible to unequivocally determine the source of the gunfire which hit” Abu Akleh. It added that there was a “high possibility” that she was hit by Israeli gunfire.

Many independent investigations conducted by CNN, The Associated Press news agency, and The Washington Post concluded that Abu Akleh was deliberately targeted, the CPJ letter noted.

‘Justice remains elusive’

The CPJ asked for a public update on the status of the investigation, a commitment to a timeline for the investigation, and the public release of its findings. It also said the investigation needs to be “impartial and independent, free from political considerations”.

Abu Akleh’s family said in a statement on Thursday, “despite the passage of time, justice remains elusive,” adding that the lack of justice “sends a dangerous message that journalists can be targeted without consequence”.

Abu Akleh’s death became a symbol of the wider Palestinian struggle. Murals of her have adorned the cities of the occupied territory as people remember her for her fearless reporting.

Since her killing, Israel has killed 258 journalists and media workers, the CPJ reported. Israel has acknowledged killing a number of journalists, alleging they had links to armed groups, accusations their employers deny and the CPJ calls “deadly smears”.

“The prevailing culture of complete impunity enjoyed by Israel is a direct factor in the continued targeting of journalists without deterrence,” said Sara Qudah, CPJ’s regional director. “Without an independent investigation and real accountability, such attacks will only continue to escalate, emboldening those who seek to silence the truth through violence.”

Nayef Samaro, 26, left work in Nablus to run errands for his wife, who was hours away from delivering their first son by C-section. He was excited, despite the Israeli army raiding his city.

An Israeli soldier shot Nayef in the head, leaving him to bleed out in the street. He never saw his son.

A Palestinian boy mourns his father, one of three people killed in an Israeli strike on a security post in Gaza. The attack is part of ongoing Israeli violence, despite a fragile ceasefire, which has killed at least 846 Palestinians, according to Gaza’s Health Ministry.

Deir el-Balah, Gaza Strip – With a weary expression, Saja arranges her few belongings inside the tent her fiance, Mohammed, has prepared for their wedding in just a few days.

There are two thin mattresses instead of a proper bed, a small cooking corner fashioned from wood and tarpaulin, and a makeshift bathroom that Mohammed also built from scraps of wood and plastic sheets.

The couple, Saja al-Masri, 22, and Mohammed Ahliwat, 27, got engaged a year ago while their families were displaced. They are still living in a camp in Deir el-Balah in central Gaza, forced into displacement by Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza.

Saja agreed to a modest dowry, but even that will only be paid by Mohammed in instalments.

Yet even this “simple beginning” has become unbearably expensive for Mohammed and many young men in Gaza, who are expected to shoulder the majority of the costs in Palestinian culture when they get married.

“I bought the tent for 1,500 shekels [about $509], the wood cost me around 2,500 [about $850], the tarpaulins exceeded 2,000 [about $679], and a simple bathroom cost another 3,000 [about $1,019],” Mohammed tells Al Jazeera. Before the war, apartments had previously been available for rent for between $250 and $300 a month.

“It’s not enough that I’m starting my life in a tent under harsh conditions, even this is unbearably expensive,” adds Mohammed, who works odd jobs like selling bread and canned goods or repairing bicycles.

“Everything I earn barely covers food and water. I tried to save a little for the wedding, but prices are so high, as if I were preparing a luxurious event.”

Before the war, Mohammed lived in a large seven-storey house in Bureij in central Gaza, and owned a fully furnished 170-square-metre apartment.

“When I remember my apartment in our home that was destroyed in the war, I feel deep sorrow … My brothers and I each had fully prepared apartments before marriage.”

“We had stability, and we owned poultry farms that supplied several areas in Gaza,” he says bitterly. “Today, I’m getting married in a tent.”

As for the wedding venue, Mohammed rented a small space that had been used as a cafe, unable to afford a wedding hall.

“A friend helped me rent this small place … for 1,500 shekels [$509],” he says. “It’s not a small amount considering how simple the place is. Wedding halls cost more than 8,000 shekels [$2,717].”

Mohammed’s situation is not exceptional in Gaza. Many weddings are now held in tents, with only the most basic preparations, amid soaring prices and a collapse of basic living conditions brought on by the war and the accompanying economic crisis.

Unemployment in Gaza has reached 80 percent, according to the Gaza Ministry of Labour, and poverty rates have risen to 93 percent.

Incomplete preparations

Saja holds back her tears as she listens to her fiance.

What should have been the happiest moment of her life feels incomplete, and she has nothing to offer to ease Mohammed’s burden.

She understands the situation can’t be helped, and has tried to remain calm. But the difficulty in finding an affordable wedding dress broke her.

Dress shops have quoted her incredibly high prices to rent one – more than 2,000 shekels ($679) for one night.

“Everyone says crossings, goods, and coordination are expensive, so everything is overpriced,” Saja explains.

In an attempt to solve this, Mohammed brought a modest dress from an acquaintance “just to make the wedding happen”, placing her in what she describes as “a painful choice”.

“When I tried the dress yesterday, I felt so sad … I burst into tears. It was worn out, torn at the edges, and outdated,” Saja says, her voice breaking.

“I slept last night with tears on my cheeks … but there’s nothing we can do. This is what’s available.”

She points to the yearlong wait to have the wedding, after postponing it repeatedly because preparations were incomplete.

“The situation doesn’t improve … it only gets worse. Every time we say let’s wait, nothing changes. So we decided to get married next week,” says Saja, who studied graphic design for one year before the war forced her to stop.

Since then, she has been displaced with her family on a long journey that began in Beit Hanoon, in northern Gaza, passed through Gaza City, and ended in Deir el-Balah.

It’s not just the dress that worries her. Beauty salons charge nearly 700 shekels ($238) to prepare a bride.

“They tell us cosmetics are very expensive and unavailable, electricity and generators cost a lot, fuel is expensive … everything is expensive, and people like us are the ones who pay.”

“What did we do to deserve this?” she says.

No taste of joy

Saja’s mother, Samira al-Masri, 49, interrupts gently, trying to console her, saying the conditions are the same for everyone in Gaza, where the majority of Palestinians have been displaced from homes destroyed by Israel, and more than 72,000 have been killed since October 2023.

“I married off four of my daughters: Ilham, Doaa, Ameerah, and now Saja, during the war, without joy,” Samira says, her voice trembling.

“Each wedding felt like a tragedy to me.”

“They all started their married lives the same way … in tents, with almost nothing.”

Samira describes her deep sadness at being unable to celebrate her daughters properly or give them the wedding they dreamed of.

“As you can see, there aren’t enough clothes, no proper items for a bride … no suitable dress, not even a wardrobe or a bed,” she says, while helping Saja arrange her few belongings.

Mohammed adds that bedroom furniture now costs between 12,000 and 20,000 shekels ($4,076 and $6,793) – before the war, the sets had cost around 5,000 shekels.

“Unbelievable prices, and there’s barely any goods in the market. We settled for mattresses on the ground.”

No signs of improvement

In Gaza, weddings are no longer joyful occasions; they are painful experiences repeated over and over.

Despite her natural desire as a mother to celebrate her daughter and give her a dignified start, Samira finds herself powerless, unable even to ask more from the groom.

“The situation is not normal … I can’t pressure him or ask what he did or didn’t bring. Everyone knows the situation … we’re all living it.”

Her worries extend beyond her daughters to her 26-year-old son, who is approaching marriage.

“I put myself and my son in the groom’s place: What does he have? Nothing. The same situation. Every time I see the costs, I step back from arranging his marriage.”

Amid this reality, Samira expresses deep sorrow for young men and women trying to marry today.

“I pray God helps them … our days were much easier … even the simplest costs have become unaffordable.

As her marriage shifts from a moment of joy into a heavy confrontation with reality, Saja tries to hold herself together despite having no real options.

She admits it is not easy, but Mohammed’s presence next to her gives her strength.

“Sometimes, I feel it’s a miserable beginning … but when I see Mohammed with me, I overcome my sadness,” she says with a faint smile as she looks at her future husband.

There are few signs that circumstances will improve anytime soon for the couple. Still, they try to achieve a balance between harsh reality and fragile hope.

“I feel things will stay the same, as is written for us,” Saja says, “moving from one tent to another.”

A 15-year-old boy, Mahmoud Sahweil, was killed when Israel struck a Gaza police station.

His aunt says he was out selling bread to support his 15-member family. Israel has killed at least 830 Palestinians in Gaza since the October 2025 “ceasefire”.

Members of the now-banned Palestine Action group raided Elbit Systems’ facility in Bristol 10 months into Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza.

Four of six British pro-Palestinian activists have been convicted of criminal damage relating to a 2024 raid on a factory operated by Israeli defence firm Elbit, with one of the defendants found guilty of striking a police officer with a sledgehammer.

London’s Woolwich Crown Court on Tuesday found Charlotte Head, 30, Samuel Corner, 23, Leona Kamio, 30, Fatema Zainab Rajwani, 21, guilty. Zoe Rogers, 22, and Jordan Devlin, 31, were found not guilty.

Prosecutors said that the six defendants were members of the banned group Palestine Action, which organised the assault on the Elbit Systems UK facility in Bristol, southwest England, in August 2024.

The raid, which prosecutors said caused about one million pounds ($1.36m) of damage, took place about 10 months into Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza that began in October 2023.

Palestine Action was later proscribed under “terrorism” law, a decision which was ruled unlawful by London’s High Court, though the group remains banned pending the government’s appeal, which was heard last week.

Acquitted of aggravated burglary

Corner, who prosecutors said struck a police officer with a sledgehammer, was convicted of inflicting grievous bodily harm.

Each of the defendants gave evidence in front of the jury, admitting that they damaged Israeli military drones and equipment inside Elbit’s research and development facility in Filton, Bristol – in order to “save lives in Palestine”, according to a statement by their lawyers.

The defence team of the defendants said in a statement: “The defendants already defeated the most serious charges” and “they went into this trial with their heads held high and with the knowledge that no matter the verdict, by destroying Israeli military drones, their action likely saved lives in Palestine”.

Tuesday’s verdicts follow an earlier trial, after which all six defendants were acquitted of aggravated burglary, and the previous jury could not reach verdicts on the criminal damage charges.

Prosecutors later dropped charges of violent disorder against all six defendants.

The UK government proscribed Palestine Action in July, days after its activists sneaked into an air force base in southern England.

Elbit Systems is a defence technology company with about 20,000 staff and revenues of $2bn, according to the firm’s website.

Video from Gaza City shows flames rising after an Israeli strike targeted a group of civilians near Al-Jalaa Roundabout in the Al-Oyoun area in northern Gaza City.

At first sight, last week’s unprovoked attack on a French nun walking along a street in occupied East Jerusalem came without warning. However, for the roughly 180,000 Christians living in Israel – and the 10,000 or so Christians living in East Jerusalem – the attack is the latest in a growing number of incidents of abuse, assault, and intimidation that the community says has increased in tandem with Israel’s turn towards far-right nationalism.

While incidents of violence and arson grab the attention, low-level incidents of spitting, insults, and disparaging graffiti have become a daily experience for many Christians in the area – the majority of them Palestinian – contributing to the desire on the part of nearly half of all the religious community under 30 to leave.

Israeli officials have been quick to condemn the attack on the nun, calling it “despicable” and with “no place” in Israeli society. A man has also been arrested, after the arrest of Israeli soldiers blamed for smashing a Christian statue in southern Lebanon last month.

But ultimately, trust in the Israeli state is thin on the ground, with many of the incidents going unreported, analysts say.

Christians in Israel and East Jerusalem have been present in the area for more than 2,000 years. But they now find themselves attacked by Israelis, just for practicing their faith.

According to the volunteer-run Religious Freedom Data Center (RFDC), in the first three months of this year, Christians reported 31 incidents of harassment, most involving spitting or defacing church property. Last year, analysts with the interreligious Rossing Center for Education and Dialogue tracked 113 known attacks on individuals and church property in Israel and occupied East Jerusalem, including 61 physical assaults mainly targeting visible members of the clergy, such as monks, nuns, friars, and priests.

‘It’s definitely increased in the last three years,” said Hana Bendcowsky, programme director at the Jerusalem Center for Jewish-Christian Relations. “Resentment toward Christianity existed in the past as well, but people did not dare express it openly.”

“Over the past three years, the political atmosphere in Israel – where there is less concern about how the world perceives us – has led people to feel more comfortable harassing Christians,” Bendcowsky added. “This broader sense of Israeli isolation, and the reduced concern about international reactions, is also reflected in the way the State of Israel has acted regarding what has taken place in Gaza and southern Lebanon.”

Rising nationalism

Israel’s shift towards ultranationalism, particularly when it comes to policies towards Palestinians, has intensified under the current government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Under his administration, far-right voices that were once at the fringes of Israeli society have become incorporated into its heart, and now play defining roles in government.

Fuelled by a not entirely unfounded sense of impunity, a survey by the Rossing Center for Education and Dialogue last year found it was largely ultra-Orthodox and ultra-nationalistic Israelis who were responsible for the majority of attacks on Christians.

“The hate and attempt to harass non-Jews by some of the elements, particularly settler elements, knows no bounds,” Rabbi Arik Ascherman, an Israeli peace activist, told Al Jazeera. “Therefore, anything from spitting, harassing, and desecrating, to government actions to prevent churches from bringing in staff and clergy from abroad…  is simply part of the reality here.”

Bendcowsky noted that “the complexity of Jewish–Christian relations goes back to the early centuries.”

“While some churches have undergone processes of rethinking their attitudes towards Jews and Judaism and have begun a path of healing, this has not yet taken place within Israeli Jewish society,” she said. “In education, the focus is on Jewish victimhood, so the lack of familiarity with Christians, together with the historical memory of Christianity, tends to be negative. In the current political climate, there are those who exploit this as a chance to strike back.”

Incidents are rarely reported, researchers say, with concern over foreign visas, or not wanting to draw attention to the issue, mixing with a profound absence of confidence in the state to take action.

‘There’s an absolute lack of confidence in the police, and I think that’s leading to many of the attacks going unreported,” Bendcowsky said. “Unfortunately, that’s often borne out by the evidence. Unless an incident gains international attention, particularly in the US, it often goes uninvestigated, or investigations are closed without any official conclusion.”

Losing support

High-level international objections to attacks on Christians and Christianity, especially those coming from Israel’s principal backers in the United States, have typically elicited swift responses from the Israeli government.

After viral footage of Israeli soldiers destroying a Christian statue in southern Lebanon sparked international outrage, the Israeli prime minister’s office was swift to publish its own condemnation. And in March, following a backlash from many world leaders, including avowedly pro-Zionist US Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee, after Israeli police prevented Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem Pierbattista Pizzaballa from reaching the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, official apologies and “clarifications” were quick in coming. But Israeli military attacks on Christian churches in Gaza and Lebanon have only been acknowledged when international and specifically US sympathy for Israel risks being undermined.

In Israel, Christianity is often associated with the Palestinians – and it is therefore perhaps inevitable that as Israel becomes increasingly unrepentant in its killing of Palestinians and seizure of their land, Palestinian Christians and other Christians in the area will not find themselves spared.

Shaiel Ben-Ephraim, an Israeli analyst with Atlas Global Strategies, said that he has noticed intolerance towards Christians increasing. He noted that along with Israel’s violence in Gaza and the wider region, this is contributing towards Israel’s increasing unpopularity worldwide and in the US, and making it more difficult for Christian supporters of Israel to square their support for the country with its treatment of their co-religionists on the ground, a plight they have ignored for decades.

‘In the long term, these attacks on Christians are massive,’ Ben-Ephraim told Al Jazeera.

“Older evangelicals may be forgiving, but the young are already turning against Israel,” he said. “This erodes the little support [Israel has] left. So, while current-day leaders like [US President Donald] Trump and Huckabee will pretend this isn’t happening, this will shape an entire generation of religious Christians in a way that Israel does not even begin to imagine.”

Two activists from the Global Sumud Flotilla arrived in the Netherlands after being released from Israeli custody. The flotilla was intercepted in international waters while carrying aid to the Gaza Strip. Two of their fellow activists remain in Israel for questioning.

Palestinian journalists in Gaza marked World Press Freedom Day by honouring colleagues killed and targeted by Israel, as the territory becomes the deadliest place ever recorded for media workers. Pope Leo XIV called for greater protection of reporters ‘pursuing the truth’, especially in war zones.

Israeli forces have raided the city of Nablus in the occupied West Bank, firing live ammunition that killed a 26-year-old Palestinian man and wounded four others, including children. Dozens of people have suffered tear gas inhalation.

Social media is full of posts showing off photos and videos of fancy-looking cafes and restaurants in Gaza. Pro-Israeli accounts often use these images to claim that life is back to normal in Gaza, that people are not suffering and that no genocide ever took place.

These cafes and restaurants do exist. I have seen them myself.

In late March, I went on my first visit to Gaza City since the war started. I was shocked to see the destruction wrought on the city. There were piles of rubble at every corner. Unable to recognise the streets, I felt as if I were strolling through a maze. I soon arrived at an area nearby that shocked me even more. It was full of new cafes that did not exist before the war.

These were not makeshift or temporary places as one might expect; they were built with expensive materials, carefully painted, furnished with tables, sofas, and elegant chairs, with glass facades and shining lights. A luxury feel emanated from them. They looked so out of place amid the rubble and the half-collapsed buildings that it felt almost surreal to see them.

These new establishments do not prove that normality is coming back to Gaza. They are a testament to its continuing genocidal abnormality.

The war made some people in Gaza rich, especially those who engaged in illicit activities like smuggling, looting, and hoarding during acute shortages. This wealth is now coming out in various forms, including luxury cafes and restaurants.

In parallel, the vast majority of Gaza’s population has been thrown into abject poverty. While before the war, the average person was able to afford to sit at a cafe and have a drink and a bite to eat, today this is no longer the case.

Most people cannot even look at these new places, let alone enter them and order something. The vast majority of Gaza’s population lives in tents, has no electricity or potable water, and suffers from the loss of livelihoods. They are surviving on what little aid Israel is allowing through.

I am one of them. My family and I live in a tent pitched near the rubble of our home in the Nuseirat camp. We have lost our family livelihood. The comfortable life we used to have is now just a distant memory.

The expensive new establishments reflect the deeply unjust social order that has emerged in Gaza – one where war profiteering has elevated a new privileged class and collapsed the vast majority into misery with no access to proper education, healthcare and even food. The genocide did not just kill and maim people and destroy homes and schools; it eliminated the prospect of a normal life for most people in Gaza.

I could not afford the fancy cafes, so I continued down the street till I reached a more modest restaurant, which used to go to with friends before the war. Entering it felt like stepping back in time to the days before the war; the place was the same, with the same chairs and tables, and the familiar smells that filled the space.

I sat and observed, dwelling on fond memories of spending time there after university lectures. I ordered what I used to order: a chicken wrap, a soda and a small salad plate. The bill was 60 shekels ($20) – more than three times what I would pay before the war, when my family actually had a normal income.

The restaurant bill, together with the fare I paid for a shared ride to get to Gaza City (15 shekels or $5 one way), cost me a fortune. I felt guilty spending all this money to enjoy a glimpse of normalcy.

The few who are fortunate enough to be able to afford going to cafes and restaurants in Gaza may enjoy short moments of relief, a temporary escape from the horrors of reality. Yet these moments are limited, often accompanied by anxiety about returning to the destroyed streets, the bombed-out landscape and the trauma.

As I sat at Al-Taboon, I thought of the friends with whom I used to spend time: Rama, who was martyred and Ranan, who escaped to Belgium. I sat there alone, holding on to these memories amid the greyness of Gaza’s rubble and the lights of the generator-powered cafés.

The genocide has devasted everyone – even those who have profiteered from it. No amount of time spent in shiny cafes and restaurants will ever erase this reality.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

PM Keir Starmer says the phrase ‘globalise the Intifada’ should be ‘completely off limits’.

British Prime Minister Keir Starmer says some pro-Palestine marches could be banned and people who use the phrase “globalise the Intifada” could be prosecuted.

In an interview broadcast by the BBC on Saturday, Starmer advocated for tighter language restrictions at pro-Palestine marches, adding that in some cases, rallies could be prohibited altogether.

“I’m a big defender of freedom of expression, peaceful protests,” he told the BBC. “But when there are chants like ‘globalise the Intifada’, that’s completely off limits.”

“Clearly, there should be tougher action in relation to that,” he added.

Discussions had been taking place with the police for some time about what further action could be taken, he added. Asked whether he sought to completely bar some rallies, Starmer said he thought that would be appropriate in some cases.

‘Likely to be arrested’

Starmer’s comments come after he earlier this week called the chant “globalise the Intifada” a case of “extreme racism” and said those who use it “should be prosecuted”.

Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir Mark Rowley also told the BBC that people who use the phrase are “likely to be arrested”.

Supporters of the slogan say it reflects a call to expand the pro-Palestine movement into a global campaign.

Starmer has come under pressure after a spate of anti-Semitic incidents, including this week, when two men were stabbed in the north London suburb of Golders Green, which is home to a large Jewish community.

A 45-year-old British national who was born in Somalia was remanded in custody when he made his first appearance in court on Friday, accused of attempted murder.

Starmer visited the scene of the attacks and a Jewish volunteer ambulance service on Thursday and was booed by some locals, who accused him of not doing enough to protect them. They also denounced pro-Palestinian activists holding marches in British cities.

On Thursday, the UK increased its security alert level to “severe” – the second highest – in part because of the attack in Golders Green.

British authorities have repeatedly faced criticism for cracking down on pro-Palestine activism during Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza.

Last month, British police arrested more than 500 people during a mass vigil in central London to oppose the ban on campaign group Palestine Action.

“I think Britain has now descended into a non-democratic situation and I think that is very dangerous [for] free speech,” one demonstrator taking part in the vigil told Al Jazeera.

Israel has provoked international condemnation for its interception of Gaza-bound aid boats in international waters and detention of hundreds onboard, including Al Jazeera journalists. World leaders, rights groups and media advocates are demanding Israel release the Global Sumud Flotilla detainees.