The People Without a Map: Diaspora, Conscience, and Palestinian Recognition

Two years after the onset of the Gaza genocide, the State has vanished, but the people remain. Across the world, the Palestinian diaspora embodies a conscience that refuses erasure.

François Vadrot, Oct. 7, 2025                           

Silhouette of Gaza, void at the heart of a sky saturated with stars. Around the darkness, the light — that of the living dispersed.

On October 7, 2023, what was first presented as a new “war” between Israel and Hamas marked instead one of the most violent episodes in a process that began in 1947: the progressive destruction of the Palestinian people. Two years later, the military fiction has collapsed. It was not a war, but an annihilation.

And yet, beyond the ruins, Palestine endures through its diaspora — a people without a map, but not without memory. This recognition, the acknowledgment of the Palestinian People on the same moral level as the Jewish People, now defines the century’s deepest moral fault line.

Gaza, Destruction, and the Return of the Real

Two years after October 7, 2023, the truth can no longer be evaded: Gaza did not endure a war but a genocide. The report of the United Nations Independent International Commission of Inquiry, published on September 16, 2025, formally concludes that Israel has committed, and continues to commit, acts constituting genocide as defined by the 1948 Convention. The experts document, with evidence, the four legal criteria: “killing members of the group, causing serious bodily or mental harm, inflicting conditions of life calculated to bring about its destruction, imposing measures to prevent births,” with the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, the Palestinian people of Gaza.

The report dismantles the fiction of a “war”: these are not “disproportionate operations,” but a systematic campaign of destruction. Civilians were the target — bombings on evacuation zones, executions inside shelters, hospitals and schools razed, water and power infrastructures annihilated, the deliberate use of starvation as a weapon (the blockade of infant formula, fuel, and water). The report details the targeting of children — “including toddlers shot in the head and chest” —, the destruction of Gaza’s only in-vitro fertilization clinic, and the repeated use of sexual violence as a tool of domination. Even symbols of continuity — mosques, churches, cemeteries, universities — were deliberately obliterated.

The numbers defy language: over 50,000 dead, 83% civilians, 200,000 homes destroyed, and 1.5 million people displaced in a strip rendered uninhabitable. A military expert cited by the UN notes that Israel “dropped in one week more bombs than the United States did in an entire year in Afghanistan.” The report concludes: “There was no military necessity to justify this pattern of conduct. The people of Gaza, as a whole, were the target.”

What has been destroyed is not merely life, but the very condition of living. What collapses under the ruins is not a political entity — it is the possibility of inhabiting the world.

Yet precisely in this total negation appears the trace of survival: where the land is destroyed, memory expands.

A Global Diaspora, Mirror of Erasure