Palestinians

The Israeli army fired tear gas at Palestinian residents of the Beit Imrin village, northwest of Nablus in the occupied West Bank. Israeli settlers can be seen setting up tents, while gunfire is heard as the Palestinians fled.

UN Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese has said the world gave Israel a ‘licence to torture Palestinians’ as she presented her latest report to the Human Rights Council in Geneva. She criticised governments for allowing violations to continue with impunity.

“It’s not our war.” A small occupied West Bank community has buried four women killed in a hair salon during an Iranian missile attack meant for Israel.

Khan Younis, Gaza Strip – Historic landmarks often withstand centuries of volatile change, but when rockets and missiles fall, even the most enduring stones become fragile.

For generations of families in Gaza’s southern city of Khan Younis, the Grain Market was the first stop when they went shopping.

Reaching it meant walking past the historic Barquq Castle, a centuries-old structure dating back to 1387 and the very foundation of Khan Younis.

But for residents, the castle was more than an old monument; it was a familiar landmark marking the entrance to one of the city’s liveliest commercial spaces.

The aromatic scent of spices and dried herbs would accompany any walk towards the Grain Market.

But that was before Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza began. Israeli attacks inflicted heavy damage on the Grain Market and the Barquq Castle. The market has now been reduced to shattered alleys, with dust and heavy silence filling the air.

Sitting in his store along a row of damaged old shops, 60-year-old Nahed Barbakh, one of the city’s oldest and most well-known traders of staple food supplies, spent decades watching customers stream through the market. Now, only a handful pass by his shop.

“I’ve been in this spot for decades, day in and day out, watching people bring life to this place,” Nahed said. “Look at it now – it’s empty. These days, there shouldn’t even be space to walk because of the crowds preparing for Eid.”

He paused before gesturing towards the nearby castle.

“We always felt the weight of history here because we are so close to Barquq Castle. Now that history and life itself have been struck by the occupation.”

But Israeli fire did not take into account the market’s historic status. The Grain Market, long considered the economic heart of Khan Younis, was also among the first sites of destruction during the second month of Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza. More than two years of Israeli bombardment and repeated waves of displacement have left the market unrecognisable.

“The occupation killed many of our friends who worked here,” Nahed said quietly. “Those who survived have been financially broken. That’s why you see most of these shops are still closed.”

He pointed to some shelves behind him.

“My shop used to be fully stocked with goods at its high capacity. We even had extra warehouses to supply what people needed, especially during the busiest seasons.”

Before he could finish his sentence, a deafening blast interrupted him — the sound of an Israeli tank fire.

“And this is the biggest reason people are afraid to return,” Nahed said abruptly. “The yellow line is only a few hundred metres away from this street. At any moment, bullets can reach here.”

The yellow line is the name given to the demarcation line behind which Israeli forces withdrew as part of the first phase of October’s ceasefire agreement. It effectively divides Gaza into two, and Palestinians have repeatedly been shot for approaching it.

The yellow line has divided Khan Younis, dramatically reshaping the city’s geography. Israel has repeatedly shifted the line, moving it deeper into Gaza.

The Grain Market, once firmly at the centre of urban life, now sits close to the yellow line.

What used to be the city’s commercial heart has effectively turned into its edge, where people hesitate to walk, leaving the revival of daily commerce life a distant prospect.

Centuries of endurance

The Grain Market traces its origins to the late 14th century, when the Mamluk ruler Younis al-Nawruzi established Khan Younis in 1387 as a strategic stop along the trade route linking Egypt and the Levant.

Built as an extension of the Barquq Castle, which functioned as a caravanserai for travelling merchants, the market became a central commercial hub where traders and travellers exchanged goods, moving between Africa, the Levant and beyond.

The Grain Market occupies roughly 2,400sq metres (25,830sq feet). Its single-floor shops line a central street running east to west, intersected by narrow alleys branching towards smaller courtyards. The buildings preserve elements of their original construction, including sandstone walls and traditional binding materials that have survived centuries of repairs and modifications.

Over time, the market evolved into the primary commercial centre of Khan Younis, adapting to modern commerce while retaining its historic character.

But today, many of its shops stand damaged or shuttered.

According to Gaza’s Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities, the market is now among more than 200 heritage sites damaged in attacks by Israeli forces across the Gaza Strip since October 2023.

At the southern end of the Grain Market, where rows of vegetable stalls once overflowed with fresh produce, only one makeshift stand has opened.

Om Saed al-Farra, a local, stepped cautiously towards the stall, inspecting the small piles of vegetables laid out on a wooden crate. The expression on her face reflected more than surprise; it was disbelief at what the market had become.

“The market is deplorable now,” she said. “There used to be many stalls here and many choices for people.”

She gestured towards the empty stretch of the market’s vegetable section, once one of its busiest corners.

“These days were once filled with extensive joyful preparations for Eid, when families crowded the market to shop for food and essentials,” al-Farra said. “Now the market feels unusually gloomy, its stalls largely empty and its familiar vibrance gone. Everything is limited. Even if you have money, there are hardly any places left here for us to buy from.”

Economic collapse under fire

Although parts of the market’s infrastructure remain physically standing, many traders have not returned.

According to Khan Younis Mayor Alaa el-Din al-Batta, the Grain Market was once one of the city’s most vital economic lifelines.

“Just as it once connected continents, even under blockade, it continued to connect people across Gaza,” al-Batta said. “It holds a deep place in the memory of our residents. But once again, the occupation has brought destruction, targeting both our history and a critical lifeline for the people.”

For nearly two decades, Israel has controlled Gaza’s land crossings, airspace and coastline under a strict blockade. Since the genocide began in October 2023, restrictions have tightened further, pushing businesses and trade to collapse.

In a narrow western alley where scattered stones cover the ground, two cloaks hung outside a small shop. Inside, 57-year-old tailor Mohammad Abdul Ghafour leaned over his sewing machine, carefully stitching a torn shirt.

His shop was the only one open in the grey alley.

“I’ve been here since childhood,” Abdul Ghafour said. “My father opened this shop in 1956, and I grew up learning the profession right here in the market.”

Israel’s bombardment not only destroyed the place where he worked; it also killed dozens of his family members.

“On December 7, 2023, Israel committed a horrific massacre against my family,” he said. “I lost my father, my brothers, and more than 30 relatives.”

Burying his family members was only the beginning of the long, painful separation from the market and his shop.

“We were forced into displacement more than 12 times. I had many chances to leave as two of my children live in Europe,” Abdul Ghafour said. “But all I could think about was returning to my shop.”

When Israeli forces withdrew to the yellow line, he came back alone.

“I cleaned the street by myself. And if I had to do it again, I would. Whoever loves his land never abandons it,” he said. “I charge my batteries for my machine and come every day. My return encouraged some residents to come back too. But people still need shelter, water, and basic services before more families return.”

Resident Mohammad Shahwan stood in Nahed’s shop checking a list of items he hoped to buy.

“We left the crowded al-Mawasi as soon as we could to return to our damaged home,” he said, referring to the stretch of coastal Khan Younis that thousands of Palestinians have been forcibly displaced to. “But the number of residents here is still very small because of the destruction and lack of services.”

Still, Mohammad Shahwan said he was relieved to find the shop open at all.

“For the first time in two years, we’ll make traditional Eid biscuits,” he said, holding the list of ingredients. “The last two Eids were dark for my family after we lost my 17-year-old son, Salama. He and his aunt were killed by an Israeli strike.”

He could have bought the now-expensive supplies elsewhere, he said, but returning to the Grain Market carried its own meaning. “I wanted to buy them from here, just like we always did.”

Waiting for restoration

According to Mayor al-Batta, restoring the historic market will require a major reconstruction effort.

“The Grain Market needs a comprehensive restoration process to function again,” he said. “So far, our work has only been limited to clearing rubble and delivering limited water supplies for returning residents.”

The rebuilding process will require specialised materials and expert restoration work to preserve what is left of the historic structure. Municipal workers have already collected leftover stones from the ruins in the hope that they can one day be used in rebuilding parts of the market.

But reconstruction remains impossible under current conditions.

“More than five months have passed since the ceasefire began, yet not a single bag of cement has entered Gaza,” al-Batta said.

“We want to restore our historic identity and revive life for our people. But neither can happen while Israeli restrictions and violations continue.”

“The Voice of Hind Rajab,” a heartbreaking retelling of the efforts to save a 6-year-old Palestinian girl amid Israel’s attacks on Gaza, will be honored at the 98th Academy Awards on Sunday — without one of its star players.

Actor Motaz Malhees, who stars in the film as Red Crescent dispatcher Omar, confirmed Thursday that he will be absent from the festivities because of President Trump’s travel ban against Palestinians. “I had the honor of playing one of the lead roles in a story the world needed to hear,” Malhees said on Instagram, “but I will not be there.”

“I am not allowed to enter the United States because of my Palestinian citizenship,” he added.

Trump announced his widened travel ban in December, noting his decision to “fully restrict and limit the entry of individuals using travel documents issued or endorsed by the Palestinian Authority,” along with people from countries including South Sudan and Syria. The president issued the order months after he presented his 20-point peace plan for the Gaza strip — efforts that some Palestinians feel have been now brushed aside amid U.S. and Israeli attacks against Iran.

Malhees said in his post that the restriction “hurts” but offered his followers and supporters a kernel of truth: “You can block a passport. You cannot block a voice.”

“The Voice of Hind Rajab,” directed by Tunisian filmmaker Kaouther Ben Hania, is nominated in the international feature category. The film is set in a Red Crescent call center in Ramallah and centers the 70-minute phone recording of Hind’s pleas for help as she waits with her family in a trapped car for emergency responders. She and two medics dispatched to her location were killed in February 2024 in Israeli attacks in Gaza.

The film earned the grand jury prize at the Venice Film Festival.

Though unable to celebrate the film at the Oscars on Sunday, Malhees said he stands “with pride and dignity” and that his “spirit will be with the Voice of Hind Rajab that night.”

“Our story is bigger than any barrier, and it will be heard,” he said.

A representative for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

As Malhees publicized his absence, fellow stars including Oscar winner Riz Ahmed and Emmy-nominated “Succession” star Arian Moayed rallied in support.

“Your work in the film and the film itself are both incredible and will live on forever,” Ahmed commented.

“You are brilliant, azizam,” Moayed replied to Malhees. “And this is heartbreaking and unjust.”

Occupied East Jerusalem – Basema Dabash sheds tears daily for the home she and her husband, Raed, were forced to demolish in Sur Baher, in the south of occupied East Jerusalem.

For years, the couple lived under the spectre of losing their home, ever since the Israeli authorities issued a demolition order in 2014. In January of this year, the eviction notice came. And then, on February 12, the family were forced to demolish their home. If they didn’t, they would have been forced to pay the municipality to carry out the demolition.

“We were forced to start demolishing the house ourselves to avoid the municipality’s demolition fees, which can reach 100,000 shekels [$32,000],” Basema, 51, said. “We started by breaking down the inside of the house and sent the municipality photos to confirm that we had begun the demolition, but they demanded that we demolish it from the outside as soon as possible.”

The family soon completed the demolition of the two houses where eight people, including three children, lived. However, this didn’t waive the fine of 45,000 shekels ($14,600), which will continue to be paid in instalments until 2029.

‘Self-demolition’ haunts Palestinians living in East Jerusalem, which has been controlled by Israel since 1967, and illegally merged with West Jerusalem under one Israeli-run administration.

The choice between self-demolition and paying a further fee to the municipality is a simple one – the vast majority of Palestinians can’t afford to pay the exorbitant amount, and resort to demolishing their own homes, despite the immense pain and profound psychological impact it causes.

‘How did we come to this?’

Basema’s troubles started in 2014, when she received a building violation notice from the Israeli municipality in Jerusalem for the building she and her husband shared with their married son, Mohammed, and his family. They appealed at the time to an Israeli court in an attempt to freeze the demolition order.

For more than a decade, the family was forced to pay accumulated fines in an attempt to keep their home. Then, on January 28, they received an eviction notice, giving them a deadline to vacate the house and have it demolished.

The house slated for demolition was 45 square metres (485sq feet), an extension Basema had added to her existing 45-square-metre home. She had also built a similar-sized residence for her married son on top of the extension. The demolition order targeted both the extension and her son’s residence.

The Dabash family tried to obtain a building permit for the house several times, but their requests were rejected by Israel. Despite this, the municipality fines Palestinians and demolishes their homes under the pretext of lacking permits.

“We chose to demolish our own house not only to avoid the fine, but also because the municipal crews show no mercy to anything around the house and deliberately vandalise the entire area under the pretext of demolition, breaking trees and causing extensive damage that we could have done without,” Basema said.

Basema, along with her husband and one of her sons, Abdelaziz, now lives in what remains of their home. Mohammed has also moved in with them, while his wife and children live in her family’s home. The demolition has thus scattered her son’s family, who haven’t yet been able to find a small house to rent due to the high cost of housing.

The family also incurred significant expenses removing the rubble and redesigning the older section of the house to accommodate everyone, not to mention the psychological toll, which has been devastating.

“I stand to wash the dishes and find my tears falling on their own. How did we come to this? Why are we being subjected to this injustice? The house has become cramped and barely fits us. My grandchildren visit us and then cry bitterly when they leave for their grandfather’s house because we have no space,” Basema said sadly.

Increased demolitions

As illegal Israeli settlements continue to expand in East Jerusalem and the occupied West Bank, with building permits easily obtained, Palestinians say the double standards are obvious.

Human Rights Watch has found that Israeli authorities make it “virtually impossible for Palestinians to obtain building permits”, and the Israeli human rights organisation B’Tselem said planning policies in East Jerusalem make it “very difficult for residents to obtain building permits”.

Marouf al-Rifai, spokesperson for the Palestinian Authority’s Jerusalem Governorate, told Al Jazeera that 15 self-demolitions were carried out last February, five in January, and 104 in December.

Demolitions, in general, escalated to unprecedented levels after October 2023, when Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza began. Al-Rifai said that 400 demolitions were carried out in 2025 in East Jerusalem and its surrounding area, either by municipal crews or by homeowners themselves. Prior to that, the number of demolitions had reached a maximum of 180 per year.

The United Nations has reported that demolitions in 2025 displaced 1,500 Palestinians.

“Even the method of carrying out demolitions changed after the war on Gaza,” al-Rifai said. “Previously, demolitions were only carried out after exhausting all legal avenues and giving residents the opportunity to appeal to the courts and freeze the demolitions.”

But Israeli authorities have taken a more punitive position since demolition policy fell under the influence of far-right Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, who began pushing for Israeli army bulldozers to carry out demolitions without even notifying the homeowners, al-Rifai said.

In addition, the Palestinian Authority official said, demolition notices for Palestinian homes in Jerusalem increased from 25,000 before the war to 35,000. The town of Silwan alone has received 7,000 demolition notices since 1967.

Fakhri Abu Diab, a member of the Committee for the Defence of al-Bustan Neighborhood in East Jerusalem, told Al Jazeera that self-demolition is a double punishment and pain for the homeowner after the effort and hardship involved in building the house.

“Israel’s goal is to break the morale of the Palestinians and to brainwash them into becoming tools for implementing its plans to demolish homes. When we demolish our own homes, it’s as if we are demolishing a part of our own body,” he explained.

Israel can only demolish a limited number of Palestinian homes annually due to logistical, financial, budgetary, and logistical constraints. Demolition by Palestinians multiplies the number of homes demolished, thus turning the victim into a “demolition contractor”, as he put it.

“I refused to demolish my house myself because of the negative consequences that I and my family would have to live with for the rest of our lives, and the Israeli bulldozers demolished it. If I had done it myself, it would have remained a nightmare that would haunt me.”

No alternative

But the cost of a demolition carried out by Israeli municipal crews ranges between 80,000 and 120,000 shekels ($26,000-$39,000).

Saqr Qunbur couldn’t pay that, and was forced instead, on December 26, to demolish his 100-square-metre (1,076sq-foot) house in Jabal al-Mukabber under the pretext of lacking a permit. He had built it in 2013 and was immediately issued a building violation notice.

Saqr told Al Jazeera that he had lived in the house with his wife and four-year-old child. Since building the house, he has received a total of 80,000 shekels ($26,000) in fines that he’s still paying despite his home being demolished.

Saqr had nowhere to live after being forced to demolish his house, so his neighbour gave him a dilapidated room to live in while he found a place to rent.

“My child has been suffering psychologically since we demolished the house. Every day he asks me why I demolished it, and I don’t know what to tell him. I say it’s so I can build him a better house, but deep down I know I won’t even be able to rent a suitable place,” he explained with anguish.

Saqr chose to demolish his house himself after he says an Israeli officer threatened him, saying, “Demolish it, or I’ll demolish it over your head”. He also wanted to avoid the humiliation that accompanies demolitions carried out by Israel, where police sometimes fire live ammunition and tear gas at family members and carry out assaults, as documented by human rights groups.

“I developed diabetes and high blood pressure after my house was demolished. The doctor said it was due to anger and grief. This is an occupation that wants to expel us from our land, and we want to stay,” he concluded.

Several Palestinians were killed after armed Israeli settlers attacked the village of Abu Falah in the occupied West Bank. Witnesses say the settlers carried out the attack under the protection of Israeli forces.

Khan Younis, Gaza Strip – On the blue, wavy surface off the Khan Younis seaport, two Palestinian fishermen paddled their small, battered boat nearly 200 metres (656 feet) into the sea. On the shore, Dawood Sehwail, a 72-year-old Palestinian fisherman, stood inspecting a torn net, his eyes fixed on the waves as if reading a language only he understands.

Displaced from Rafah, further to the south, in May 2024 as a result of Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza, Sehwail now comes daily to the water’s edge, not just to fish, but to have an escape, to study the sea, and to remember.

“The feeling never gets old,” he said, with a sparkle in his eye that defies his age. “You come to see what wonders the sea might still have for you.”

“We were always shackled [by Israel],” Sehwail said quietly. “But one period was less harsh than another.”

Even before October 2023, when Israel started its genocidal war on Gaza, the Palestinian enclave’s fishermen operated under heavy restrictions imposed by Israel. Fishing zones were repeatedly reduced. Maritime boundaries outlined in agreements since the 1993 Oslo Accords were rarely implemented on the water. The distances fishermen were permitted to travel in the sea constantly shifted, often shrinking without warning.

“After every Israeli aggression, the consequences fell on us,” Sehwail explained. “We were supposed to [be allowed to] go further into the sea, but the occupation kept pushing us back.”

Controlling the sea

For a coastal territory, the sea should have been a source of wealth, stability, and fresh food. Instead, under Israel’s blockade that controls Gaza’s land, air, and sea since 2007, it has become another mechanism of control and persecution.

Sehwail once owned a stone distribution business, but was forced to shut it down after the Israeli blockade on Gaza tightened in 2007. He eventually turned to fishing, a skill he had learned as a child, and which he once thought he had abandoned.

“Our profession is day by day,” he said. “It used to be that, if you work, and are lucky, you can sell your catch and feed your family. If you’re very lucky, you save a little for the future of your children.”

But within a few days of Israel’s genocidal war, everything changed. Gaza’s seaport was destroyed by Israeli air strikes. Israel also bombed fishing installations from north to south. Boats were burned or sunk. The sector collapsed almost instantly.

“The Rafah fishermen had six fishing trawlers,” Sehwail recalled. “All of them were bombed and burned. I tried to keep my own small boat and nets for as long as I could, but they were destroyed by the occupation just days before we were displaced in May 2024.”

At Khan Younis port, the aftermath is no different. The harbour has turned into a crowded displacement site. Broken or burned boats are no longer vessels but tent supports, tied with ropes to hold fragile shelters in place.

A rusted metal skeleton of a trawler protrudes from the sand where displaced children now play around. But even in ruin, fishermen improvise.

“What we do now is try not to die,” Sehwail said. “We borrow tools. Some even turn refrigerator parts into floating boards. We have no motors, only paddles. We use whatever is left.”

Originally from the coastal village of Jourat Asqalan, depopulated of its Palestinian residents during the 1948 Nakba and the formation of Israel, Sehwail’s bond with the sea runs generations deep. “The connection is powerful,” he said. “My home in Rafah was also near the beach. Even in displacement, the sea keeps me company. But now my children and their families are scattered across displacement camps.”

No safety

Material destruction has been only part of the toll for Gaza’s fishermen. According to the Gaza Fishermen’s Syndicate, at least 238 fishermen have been killed by Israel since October 2023, whether at sea or on land, among more than 72,000 Palestinians.

The sector once consisted of more than 5,000 fishermen providing for more than 50,000 family members, who depended on fishing as a primary source of income. And Israeli violations have continued since the “ceasefire” began in October, with more than 20 fishermen reported to have been killed or detained.

“The sea is practically closed,” said Zakaria Baker, the head of Gaza’s Fishermen Syndicate, in a recent interview with Al Jazeera.

Baker explained that some fishermen do not risk venturing more than 800 metres (2,625 feet) offshore in small boats, as there is still uncertainty over how far they can go into the sea.

Standing on the shore, Sehwail pointed toward an Israeli naval boat.

“They are always there,” he said. “There is no official clearance for us. We enter at our own risk. The farthest we can go is about 800 metres, and even that depends on their mood.”

He described sudden chases by the Israeli navy: boats shot at or sunk, fishermen detained.

“They can see clearly what we are doing,” he said. “But it depends on the soldier’s mood whether he lets you fish or decides to shoot you dead.”

“Israel ‘executed’ fishing in Gaza,” Sehwail said, repeating the phrase in pain. “What we do now is not real fishing. It’s risking your life for the hope of bringing back one or two fish to your tent.”

Critical source of food

Before the genocide, Gaza’s fisheries sector played a vital role in food security and poverty alleviation. According to the United Nations, by the end of 2024, the sector was operating at less than 7.3 percent of its pre-October 2023 production capacity. The UN also estimated that 72 percent of Gaza’s fishing fleet had been damaged or destroyed.

The collapse has severely affected food availability, income generation, and community resilience. The reduction of fishing access to less than a nautical mile (1.85km) has drastically limited both quantity and species variety.

“The further west we used to go, the more variety [of fish] we could find,” Sehwail explained. “But now in shallow waters, you find only small quantities and mostly juvenile sardines that should be left to grow. But people needed whatever they could find.”

Months of Israeli starvation have turned fresh protein into a rarity; thus, fish is a special luxury.

Even now, with the relative relief brought by the “ceasefire”, fish seen in Gaza’s markets are largely frozen imports, often more expensive than fresh local fish was before the genocide. Catastrophic economic collapse means many families cannot afford them.

Baker emphasised that rehabilitation and recovery require more than ceasefire declarations. “No materials or compensation have been allowed in so far,” he said, “Israeli restrictions continue to block the entry of equipment. Fishermen need stable and safe conditions to return to work without fear of Israeli bullets.”

“The fishermen are simple, poor people,” Sehwail said. “We only want to live with dignity and provide for our families. Across Gaza from north to south, we’re all in need of support to finally fish as we actually deserve.”