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Affichage des articles dont le libellé est Gaza genocide. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est Gaza genocide. Afficher tous les articles
16/10/2026
14/09/2026
03/09/2026
14/08/2026
06/08/2026
How a Teen, Not a Journalist, Debunked Israel’s Gaza ‘Voluntary Emigration’ Plan
Cómo un adolescente, y no un periodista, desmontó el plan israelí de «emigración voluntaria» de Gaza
Comment un adolescent, et non un journaliste, a démonté le projet israélien d’« émigration volontaire » de Gaza
Come un adolescente, non un giornalista, ha smontato il piano israeliano di «emigrazione volontaria» da Gaza
Wie ein Teenager – und kein Journalist – Israels Plan einer „freiwilligen Auswanderung“ aus Gaza entlarvte
03/08/2026
Genocidio di Gaza IT FR EN ES DE
Genocidio di Gaza
MANUALE DI STORIA DEL 2046 - Storia globale del primo quarto del XXI secolo
Génocide de Gaza
MANUEL D’HISTOIRE DE 2046 - Histoire globale du premier quart
du XXIe siècle
Gaza Genocide
HISTORY TEXTBOOK OF 2046 - Global History of the First Quarter
of the 21st Century
Genocidio de Gaza
MANUAL DE HISTORIA DE 2046 - Historia global del primer cuarto
del siglo XXI
Völkermord in Gaza
GESCHICHTSLEHRBUCH VON 2046 - Globalgeschichte des ersten
Viertels des 21. Jahrhunderts
12/07/2026
05/07/2026
31/05/2026
29/05/2026
28/05/2026
24/05/2026
Ben-Gvir's video EN->ES FR
JACK KHOURY
Israel’s
Real Red Line Isn’t Violence. It’s Filming It
The reactions in Israel to Itamar Ben-Gvir’s provocative video
La verdadera línea roja de Israel
no es la violencia, sino el hecho de filmarla
Las reacciones en Israel ante el provocativo video de Itamar Ben-Gvir
La véritable ligne rouge d’Israël n’est pas la violence, c’est le fait de la filmer
Les réactions en Israël à la vidéo provocative d’Itamar Ben-Gvir
22/05/2026
25/03/2026
‘Torture and Genocide’, a new report by Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese
On March 23, 2026 a new report by UN Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese to the Human Rights Council was published, with the title ‘Torture and Genocide’. Here is a brief abstract. The report can be downloaded, by clicking on the image below.
Torture and Genocide in Palestine: A Systemic Policy
The report
by the UN Special Rapporteur exposes a stark reality: the torture inflicted on
Palestinians is neither incidental nor exceptional. It is a central pillar of a
system of colonial domination and an ongoing genocidal process.
For
decades, Israel has embedded coercive violence within its mechanisms of
control. However, since October 2023, an unprecedented escalation marks a
qualitative shift: torture has become massive, openly endorsed, and directed
against the Palestinian people as a whole. It no longer targets individuals
alone, but a population “as such.”
In prisons
and detention camps, testimonies describe a regime of extreme brutality:
beatings, sleep deprivation, deliberate starvation, sexual violence, and
systematic humiliation. Children, doctors, journalists, and humanitarian
workers are arrested, tortured, and in some cases killed. Bodies are broken,
minds shattered, lives destroyed. This violence is not a deviation—it is coordinated,
institutionalized, and publicly justified.
But torture
is not confined to detention sites. The report demonstrates that the entire
occupied Palestinian territory has been transformed into a “torturing
environment.” In Gaza, siege, famine, mass bombardment, and the destruction of
hospitals, schools, and homes create permanent collective suffering. The entire
population is trapped in a space where death, fear, and deprivation are
constant.
In the West
Bank, pervasive surveillance, settler violence, forced displacement, and the
destruction of livelihoods extend this logic. Daily life itself becomes a form
of torture—an existence defined by insecurity, humiliation, and constant
threat.
International
law is clear: torture is absolutely prohibited. But the report goes further. It
shows that the systematic use of torture against a group is a key indicator of
genocidal intent. By inflicting widespread physical and psychological harm,
destroying living conditions, and targeting social structures, Israel is
implementing a strategy aimed at weakening, fragmenting, and ultimately erasing
the Palestinian people.
This system
is not sustained by the military alone. It is reinforced by legislation,
validated by courts, legitimized by political discourse, amplified by media,
and normalized within parts of society. Torture thus becomes a collective
enterprise, socially produced and politically defended.
The
report’s conclusion is unequivocal: the ongoing genocide also manifests as continuous,
collective, and generational torture. These are not isolated acts, but a
coherent architecture of destruction.
In the face
of this, international inaction is no longer tenable. States have a legal
obligation to prevent, investigate, and prosecute these crimes. Ending torture
also requires ending the system that produces it: occupation, apartheid, and
settler colonialism.
18/03/2026
Jürgen Habermas: In Lieu of an Obituary
In the first two or three quarters of his life, he had belonged to that Germany we loved—the Germany of “Dichter und Denker” (poets and thinkers)—only to end his long existence (96 years) on the side of the “Richter und Henker” (judges and executioners). Jürgen Habermas passed away on March 14. He no longer had the time or the strength to declare his support for Operation Epic Fury/Silent Holy City [sic & resic], unleashed by the well-known duo of executioners against the land that gave rise to Ibn Sina (Avicenna), Omar Khayyam, Rumi, Al-Ghazali, Suhrawardi, Al-Razi, Al-Farabi, Mulla Sadra, and… Ali Shariati. Having become a sacred cow of self-righteous but wrong-acting Germany, Habermas, shortly after October 7, 2023, committed an infamous text of unconditional support for the Zionist killers. This ultimate perversion of his own “communicative action” earned him a stinging response from an Iranian sociologist, a professor at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, Asef Bayat, author of extremely creative works on social movements in the Mashreq and the Maghreb. We reproduce it below in lieu of an obituary, as it was first published in New Lines Magazine.-FG, Tlaxcala
Jürgen
Habermas Contradicts His Own Ideas When It Comes to Gaza
One of the world’s
most influential philosophers has weighed in on the war in Gaza. A Middle East
scholar tells him why he’s wrong
Asef Bayat, December 8, 2023
Philosopher Jürgen Habermas (left) and sociologist Asef Bayat (right). (Louisa Gouliamaki/AFP via Getty Images)
Editor’s note: Jürgen Habermas and Asef Bayat are towering global thinkers. Their books have been translated into multiple languages and are taught in universities throughout the world. Habermas is part of the pantheon of the legendary Frankfurt School of critical theory, along with the late Theodor Adorno, Max Horkheimer and Herbert Marcuse. Yet he is perhaps best known for his ideas about the “public sphere” — a realm where citizens come together to debate matters of general concern and “public opinion” is formed, which he traces back to coffeehouses and literary salons in 18th-century Europe — and as a defender of liberal democracy against its critics on both the left and the right. He is no stranger to the challenge that Bayat poses in this open letter; his very public debates and intellectual battles over many decades have made him a household name in Germany.
Bayat is a sociologist of the contemporary Middle East best known for his concept of “post-Islamism” and for his textured studies of street politics, everyday life and how ordinary people change the Middle East (the subtitle of his 2013 book, “Life as Politics”). Habermas has been widely criticized for his recent statements on the Gaza war, but what distinguishes this open letter is its immanent critique: Bayat sets out to show how Habermas fails to apply his own ideas to the case of Israel-Palestine. It is a critique from within the logic of Habermasian thought. This gives it a force that will — or should — resonate with Habermas and his defenders. It is more of an invitation than a polemic. It is an attempt to engage, and we publish it here in hopes that it will do just that.-New Lines
Dear professor
Habermas,
You may not remember
me, but we met in Egypt in March 1998. You came to the American University in
Cairo as a distinguished visiting professor to engage with the faculty,
students and the public. Everyone was enthusiastic to hear you. Your ideas on
the public sphere, rational dialogue and democratic life were like a breath of
fresh air in a time when Islamists and autocrats in the Middle East were
stifling free expression under the guise of “protecting Islam.” I recall a
pleasant conversation we had on Iran and religious politics over dinner at the
house of a colleague. I tried to convey to you the emergence of a
“post-Islamist” society in Iran, which you later seemed to experience on your
trip to Tehran in 2002, before you spoke about a “post-secular” society in
Europe. We in Cairo saw in your core concepts a great potential for fostering a
transnational public sphere and cross-cultural dialogues. We took to heart the
kernel of your communicative philosophy about how consensus-truth can be
reached through free debate.
Now, some 25 years
later, in Berlin, I read your co-authored “Principles of Solidarity” statement
on the Gaza war with more than a little concern and alarm. The spirit of the
statement broadly admonishes those in Germany who speak out, through statements
or protests, against Israel’s relentless bombardment of Gaza in response to
Hamas’ appalling attacks of Oct. 7. It implies that these criticisms of Israel
are intolerable because support for the state of Israel is a fundamental part
of German political culture, “for which Jewish life and Israel’s right to exist
are central elements worthy of special protection.” The principle of “special
protection” is rooted in Germany’s exceptional history, in the “mass crimes of
the Nazi era.”
It is admirable that
you and your country’s political-intellectual class are adamant about
sustaining the memory of that historic horror so that similar horrors will not
befall the Jews (and I assume, and hope, other peoples). But your formulation
of, and fixation on, German exceptionalism leaves practically no room for
conversation about Israel’s policies and Palestinian rights. When you confound
criticisms of “Israel’s actions” with “antisemitic reactions,” you are
encouraging silence and stifling debate.
As an academic, I am
stunned to learn that in German universities — even within classrooms, which
should be free spaces for discussion and inquiry — almost everyone remains
silent when the subject of Palestine comes up. Newspapers, radio and television
are almost entirely devoid of open and meaningful debate on the subject.
Indeed, scores of people, including Jews who have called for a ceasefire, have
been fired from positions, had their events and awards canceled and been
accused of “antisemitism.” How are people supposed to deliberate about what is
right and what is wrong if they are not allowed to speak freely? What happens
to your celebrated idea of the “public sphere,” “rational dialogue” and
“deliberative democracy”?
The fact is that most
of the critics and protests you admonish never question the principle of
protecting Jewish life — and please do not confuse these rational critics of
the Israeli government with the disgraceful far-right neo-Nazis or other
antisemites who must be vigorously condemned and confronted. Indeed, almost
every statement I have read condemns both Hamas’ atrocities against civilians
in Israel and antisemitism. These critics are not disputing the protection of
Jewish life or Israel’s right to exist. They are disputing the denial of
Palestinian lives and Palestine’s right to exist. And this is something about
which your statement is tragically silent.
There is not a single
reference in the statement to Israel as an occupying power or to Gaza as an
open-air prison. There is nothing about this perverse disparity. This is not to
speak of the everyday erasure of Palestinian life in the occupied West Bank and
east Jerusalem. “Israel’s actions,” which you deem “justified in principle,”
have entailed dropping 6,000 bombs in six days on a defenseless population;
well over 15,000 dead (70% of them women and children); 35,000 injured; 7,000
missing; and 1.7 million displaced — not to mention the cruelty of denying the
population food, water, housing, security and any modicum of dignity. Key
infrastructures of life have vanished.
14/03/2026
Normalized Trauma, Traumatized Normalcy – The Palestine Exhibition “Kalanlar Filistin” in Istanbul
On March 30, 2026, the solidarity exhibition "Kalanlar Filistin" [What remains of Palestine] closes its doors after three months in Istanbul Harbiye. Milena Rampoldi of ProMosaik visited this exhibition for us and reports on her impressions.
Milena Rampoldi, March 14, 2026
At first glance, this exhibition organized by the Turkish cultural association Kalyon Kültür would be seen as the narrative of the Zionist destruction of Palestinian life (family, school, childhood, culture) and thus as a material presentation of the Zionist genocide. However, what really counts here, if you are in the middle of the exhibition and experience it, is not the brutal destruction that you perceive on the surface, but what is “left” and lives on after the destruction.
It is about everything
that Zionism cannot hit, namely the soul, resistance and humanity. In fact, the
title of this innovative exhibition, which somehow turns classical museum
pedagogy and its dialectical paradigms completely upside down, could be
translated as “What remains of Palestine”.
What remains and stays
after the bombings and airstrikes of the Israeli military, the symbol and
essence of new colonialism in the Middle East, are human dignity, the spirit of
resistance and the Palestinian humanity of an oppressed people, but who are by
no means the victims of this destruction.
The visitor enters into
an empathic dialogue with the war reality of Palestine, which is “recreated” in
the exhibition premises. The visitor loses all distance, his empathy is the
result of the abolition of any dialectic between his safe and stable existence
in Istanbul-Harbiye and the genocide in Gaza. However, the visitor is not there
to perceive Palestine as an object in the sense of Edward Said and to pity it
as a do-gooder, but to appear as a witness for Palestine and to leave the
exhibition as a witness.
Like the testimony in the
Qur'an, the testimony of a historical event is not a right, but an obligation.
And this commitment leads to ethical responsibility. The visitor interacts with
the destruction and does not get out of his responsibility number. Since the
obligation to stand up for Palestine is not a choice of a sunny day in Harbiye,
but the ethical obligation of a life as an ethical thinking, witnessing and
acting person. As it says so beautifully on the website of the exhibition: “This
exhibition is not a visit; it is an attitude.”
What remains after the
Zionist destruction is the ontological “remnant,” the remnant that opposes any
ontological brutality.
“Destruction is not a
moment here, but a structure that has gained continuity; trauma is the new form
of everyday life.”
Trauma gets normalized in
Palestine. Palestinian life in Gaza is the remnant of this traumatized
normality. However, the trauma is now also an everyday aspect of the visitor,
who has turned into a responsible confidant/witness for life.
“The visitors are not
invited to emotional relief, but to an ethical debate. Here, not compassion,
but testimony is expected. Because testimony results in responsibility.”
It is not about the
catharsis of the visitor, as it is the case in a Greek tragedy, but about the
inconvenient knowledge of the Zionist genocide in Gaza.
What remains are silent
people and silent objects that stay immovably in their place as witnesses of
destruction. This can be seen in particular in the rooms where the kitchen, the
school class and the Palestinian home are shown after the Israeli bombings. The
material remains, a piece of wall, an empty pot, a school desk, a
blackboard..., and these objects are silent.
The first victims are
always the children. For the Zionist genocide is above all a child genocide.
Therefore, the figure of Handala is also central in this exhibition.
Handala is the famous
cartoon character of the Palestinian artist Naji al-Ali from 1969, which has
very strong autobiographical traits. The murdered children of Gaza and the
children who, like the cartoonist himself, became surviving refugees are the
symbol of testimony that remains and defies brutal destruction.
“What can be seen here is
not a loss, but irretrievable time.”
“The barbed wire at the
centre of the installation transforms the border from a geographical line into
a permanent experience imprinted in body and memory. This installation is not
conceived as an aesthetic composition; it wants the visitor to immediately feel
the interruption between today and yesterday and its ethical significance. The
work calls for observation, not pity.”
The trauma is, as mentioned,
the normality. War is continuity and the labyrinth of the exhibition is a
constant reality. The visitor walks into the labyrinth. He remains there
voluntarily and experiences the darkness of imprisonment acoustically as a
permanent experience. The children teach the visitor what is war - acoustically
and visually. The cries of the children are imprinted in the mind and soul of
the witness spectator. At the same time, the guided tour of the exhibition
illuminates the various movements on the grey walls of the labyrinth. Violence
and brutality become part of everyday life and are no exceptions. You do not
escape from this labyrinth, you stay, listen and painfully learn the
resistance, which then remains as an echo once you left the exhibition.
When the bombs are
asleep, we too can sleep
Is there chocolate in
paradise?
Allah is with us
“What is happening here
is not a deviation, but order itself.”
The visitor can't get out
of the situation. This is not an escape room, this is his testimony of
Palestine, the Zionist colony of the Middle East of children like Handala.
The other room, where the
names of the martyrs are read, performs the same function. Here, too, the
witness does not flee, but remains. The dialectic between testimony and witness
is abolished. We are in the post-dialectical space of the Palestinians' response
to the Zionist State and its outdated dialectics.
23/02/2026
They Served in Gaza, Then Died by Suicide – but Are Not Recognized as Fallen IDF Soldiers
Taking part in genocide can indeed be stressful
The IDF's policy is clear: while soldiers are in
uniform, they're the military's responsibility. The day after? Not anymore.
Soldiers who take their own lives after discharge because of their service are
not recognized as fallen and do not receive a military funeral. Six bereaved
families tell Haaretz how it feels to be left outside the gate
Tom Levinson, Haaretz, 19/2/2026
It happened late at night, after another tense, even
turbulent, day. Roi Wasserstein, a reservist who served as a combat medic, was
speaking to his company commander, whom he had known since they were both
conscripts. Perhaps they discussed some of the scenes they had witnessed;
perhaps they shared fears of what was to come. Details of the conversation
remain elusive, like a black box no one will ever find.
Around 2 A.M., Wasserstein retired to his creaky bed.
It was the night of October 10, 2023. He was in a staging area near the Gaza
Border.
He slept for about three hours. At dawn, comrades woke
him. Come quickly, the commander needs medical attention, they said. "He's
been shot." In truth, he had shot himself. The commander, a doctor at
Schneider Medical Center, was pronounced dead at the scene.
Wasserstein told his family nothing, kept it to
himself. They only heard about it later. "Everything is fine," he
answered laconically when confronted. One year and nine months later, in July
2025, his father found him in his room, dead by gunshot. Roi Wasserstein was
24.
Only during the Shiva did his family learn of other
secrets he had carried from the war. "His friends told us he was one of
the first to arrive at the Givati Brigade armored personnel carrier
incident" – in which 11 soldiers were killed – "and that he personally
pulled out the bodies, or what was left of them, from the vehicle," his
brother Tom says. Soldiers who were present at the scene told Haaretz of images
they will never forget ("ashes, body parts, charred flesh, a smell that
won't let go").
16/02/2026
To Honor the Memory of Those Massacred on October 7, Israelis Must Recognize Their Actions in Gaza
Gideon Levy, Haaretz, 15/2/2026
Smoke rises following an
explosion, within the "yellow line" zone, which is controlled by
Israel, in Khan Younis in the southern earlier this week. Credit: HASEEB
ALWAZEE/Reuters
The recent outrage over an
Israeli minister’s rejection of the word ‘massacre’ in reference to October 7
revealed that in Israel, the word is reserved for one side. Those fighting for
its preservation must apply it to what happened in Gaza
In the first months
following October 7, I constantly used the term massacre to describe what had
happened. What I saw with my own eyes as I wandered through the southern border
area with photographer Alex Levac could only be defined as one.
In Sderot, Ofakim, in the
Re’im parking lot, on death-strewn Highway 232, in Be’eri and Nir Oz, we saw
endless silent testimony to a massacre. The trails of congealed blood in the
rooms of kibbutz members, the lives cut short in an instant, the weekend copies
of Haaretz, with readers massacred as they were perusing them, the bodies of
their dogs lying in their yards, the crushed and shattered cars with their
silent remnants of the Nova music festival, ID cards and personal effects in
the ruins of the police station in Sderot, and of course, the surviving
witnesses – all told a story of a horrific massacre. A massacre – what else
could you call it?
The temporary memorial for
victims set at the Re’im parking lot in the initial months after the Nova
party, in January 2024. Credit: Hadas Parush
A year later, I could no
longer use that term. This was after the word massacre came to be used in
Israel’s discourse only for describing what was done to us. The only massacre
was the massacre of Israelis in the south, and no other. Hardly anyone used the
word massacre to describe what was happening across the border, in Gaza, at our hands.
When an Israeli said
"massacre," he meant the massacre of Israelis, as if he were stating
that there was no other. The word massacre became a fraught one, a tendentious
one serving propaganda and thus disqualified for use, as far as I was concerned,
due to its one-sided meaning.
Meanwhile, the second
massacre proceeded at full force, and no one called it by its name. It did not
cancel out the first massacre, but its scope, in numbers and devastation, far
exceeded it. The fact that it was perpetrated mainly by air did not diminish
its nature by one whit.
Destroyed buildings in
Gaza, as seen from the Israeli side of the Israel-Gaza border earlier this
week. Credit: Amir Cohen/Reuters
The furious argument that
has erupted in the last few days over the government’s foolish attempt to erase
from people’s minds the massacre we suffered can only evoke a bitter smile.
Nothing could be more
ironic: After more than two years in which the public discourse refrained from
using the word "massacre" or its synonyms for describing what the IDF
was doing to Gazans; after more than two years in which Israel tried to tell
itself, and the world, that the only massacre that took place was that of
Israelis; over two years of playing the victim, in which Israel put on display,
for itself and the world, only its own war wounds; over two years in which it
forbade any expression of compassion, humaneness and solidarity with the
victims of the other massacre; after over two years in which the Israeli media
concealed, ignored or blurred the other massacre, along comes the government
trying to erase from Israeli minds the first massacre as well, as if it never
happened.
Culture and Sports
Minister Miki Zohar speaking at the first government-funded film award ceremony
in Jerusalem last month. Credit: Naama Grynbaum
Culture Minister Miki
Zohar actually objected to adopting a stance of victimhood, in which Israel had
wallowed, as long as this served its purposes.
Nevertheless, there was a
massacre in Israel, as well as a genocide in Gaza. One should recognize this.
The power of words is great. The fact that so few Israelis are bothered by what
their country has done in the Gaza Strip proves the immense power of words. The
fact that every time the word "massacre" was or is still used in
Israel, people mean only the killing of 1,200 Israelis, never the killing of 70,000 Gazans, proves how easy it is to brainwash people and shape
their mindset.
Therefore, the current
battle over this term is important. People who are justifiably fighting to keep
this term intact regarding the events of October 7 should at least also adopt
it for describing what Israel did in its reckless retaliation in Gaza. One
cannot say "the October 7 massacre" and not say a word about the
punitive and vengeful massacre that followed it.
The blood of Israelis
massacred along the Gaza border cries out, but no less so than the blood of the
thousand babies that were massacred in the Gaza Strip. Both groups were victims
of barbaric and criminal behavior. Both groups deserve the correct definition,
not mendacious propaganda. There was a massacre in Israel. In Gaza, there was a
genocide.
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