We stand firmly against injustice in all its forms. Nothing can justify the current war crimes committed by Israel in occupied Palestine. Equally, nothing can excuse the continued support offered by other nations to this apartheid regime. If you believe in human rights, dignity, and justice, then we urge you to boycott this rogue state. Silence is complicity, do what’s right.
This audit examines how Israeli state curricula and textbooks shaped perceptions of Palestinians from 1948 to 2026 through the Ministry of Education and licensed publishers.
From the early years of statehood, Palestinian schools were placed under strict supervision and forbidden to teach their national history. Textbooks described Palestinians mainly as a minority required to show loyalty while omitting expulsions and land confiscation.
Hebrew-language textbooks routinely depicted the entire territory as Israel and omitted the Green Line. Palestinians appeared rarely and were often portrayed as rioters, infiltrators, or terrorists. Maps labelled the West Bank as “Judea and Samaria” without reference to occupation.
Narratives of 1948 typically presented Palestinian flight as voluntary or ordered by Arab leaders while minimising expulsions and massacres. Visual materials frequently showed Palestinians as faceless crowds or threats, while Jewish Israelis were depicted as modern nation-builders.
Civics textbooks emphasised Jewish national identity and gave extensive coverage to the Law of Return while treating Palestinian refugee rights as external claims. Palestinian citizens were presented primarily as a security challenge rather than as a group facing structural discrimination.
State intervention repeatedly blocked educational materials that humanised Palestinians. The removal of Dorit Rabinyan’s novel from school reading lists signalled institutional resistance to narratives of equality or shared life.
Legal measures further restricted teaching about Palestinian history. Funding penalties for Nakba commemoration encouraged textbook revisions and teacher self-censorship. In East Jerusalem, authorities pressured schools to adopt modified textbooks that removed references to occupation and Palestinian national symbols.
Academic research expanded the evidence base. Comparative textbook studies found Palestinian history and culture largely absent from Hebrew-language curricula, while Jewish historical and biblical claims were emphasised. Maps routinely erased Palestinian political geography and omitted the Green Line.
Education policy changes intensified after 2010, with reforms emphasising Jewish identity and security narratives while reducing emphasis on equality and minority rights. Teacher reports documented growing pressure to avoid controversial topics such as occupation and Palestinian national identity.
Financial incentives encouraged East Jerusalem schools to adopt Israeli curricula while those retaining Palestinian Authority textbooks faced administrative pressure. Longitudinal research linked these educational patterns to youth attitudes supporting segregation and unequal rights.
Control of memory extends to higher education and public cultural institutions. Research by Israeli academics and organisations such as Zochrot documented resistance within universities to courses or events addressing the Nakba, including administrative pressure and cancellation of commemorations. Student groups reported disciplinary action or funding threats when organising Nakba memorial activities. This broader academic climate reinforces the school curriculum by limiting opportunities for students to encounter alternative historical narratives.
Language policy also shapes knowledge access. Arabic, the native language of Palestinian citizens, was downgraded in public life after the 2018 Nation-State Basic Law granted it only “special status.” Educational researchers note that reduced institutional emphasis on Arabic in Jewish schools limits engagement with Palestinian culture and history. Meanwhile, Palestinian schools operate under budget disparities and closer inspection regimes, restricting curricular autonomy. These structural differences reinforce separate educational experiences and unequal access to cultural representation.
Digital education and youth media have amplified curriculum effects. Studies of Israeli educational technology and youth social media consumption show that online learning platforms frequently replicate textbook narratives and maps that omit the Green Line and Palestinian national identity. As digital tools became central to schooling in the 2020s, these representations reached students earlier and more consistently, reinforcing the same narrative frameworks across new media environments.
The audit concludes that across decades the Israeli education system operated as an institutional mechanism shaping perceptions of Palestinians in ways that normalised inequality, segregation, and differential rights.
This section examines how Palestine was governed and inhabited under Ottoman rule and establishes the historical baseline immediately preceding British colonial administration. It reviews administrative records, land systems, demographic continuity, and wartime disruption to clarify what existed before the emergence of a modern settler project and how late Ottoman reforms created legal and administrative conditions later used in processes of land transfer and dispossession.
Between the early sixteenth century and the First World War, Palestine was administered by the Ottoman Empire as a populated provincial territory. Ottoman authorities governed through taxation, conscription, land administration, and periodic reform, generating episodes of local resistance and hardship but without a policy of population removal or settler replacement. By the early twentieth century, Palestine consisted of interconnected towns, villages, and agricultural landscapes with long-standing social, economic, and familial continuity, and its inhabitants related to the land through local, regional, and religious frameworks rather than a modern national designation.
The Ottomans incorporated Palestine into their domains after defeating the Mamluks at Marj Dabiq and al Ridaniyya in 1516–1517. Administratively, the area that Europeans later labelled “Palestine” was divided among several districts under the province of Damascus, including the sanjaqs of Jerusalem, Nablus and Gaza. Sixteenth century tahrir (tax) registers list hundreds of villages in these districts, with named household heads, crop types and livestock totals. These registers show stable rural communities growing wheat, barley, olives, grapes and pulses, paying taxes in cash and kind, and maintaining village structures that would still be recognisable in the late Ottoman and Mandate censuses.
The basic Ottoman bargain in Palestine was taxation and security in exchange for loyalty, with local notable families, religious leaders and village headmen acting as intermediaries. Land tenure was governed by the empire’s system of miri (state) land and various forms of usufruct; peasants held long term cultivation rights in exchange for taxes and military levies. For most of the Ottoman period, outside interventions in local land use were limited. Peasants in areas such as Jabal Nablus, the Hebron highlands and the Galilee cultivated terraced hillsides and plains in patterns that remained recognisable for centuries. Studies of families and waqf endowments in Jabal Nablus between the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries show continuity of lineages and land use, not wholesale replacement.
Ottoman rule was not benign. Heavy taxation, corruption and conscription sparked periodic uprisings. In 1834, during an interlude when Muhammad Ali’s Egypt briefly ruled Palestine under nominal Ottoman suzerainty, a major revolt broke out in Hebron, Nablus and other towns against forced conscription and new taxes. Egyptian and allied forces crushed the uprising with executions, village burnings and deportations. When direct Ottoman control was restored later in the nineteenth century, the central state continued to push reforms that increased its reach into rural life, provoking local resistance but not targeting Palestinians as a people for removal.
In the mid nineteenth century the Ottoman government introduced the 1858 Land Code and related cadastral reforms. These required subjects to register landholdings in their own names with state authorities and were intended to increase tax revenue, regularise tenure and strengthen central authority. In practice, many Palestinian peasants avoided registration out of fear that records would expose them to higher taxes, conscription or conscription of their sons. Large tracts of land were registered instead in the names of urban notables or absentee owners in cities such as Jerusalem, Jaffa, Nablus, Damascus and Beirut. Over time, this created a layer of legally recognised ownership above long standing peasant cultivation.
In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, this legal structure became a mechanism through which Zionist institutions acquired land without direct consultation with or consent from the cultivators. Ottoman law allowed sale of registered land to private buyers. Foreign Jewish settlers and Zionist agencies such as the Jewish Colonization Association began purchasing estates and large parcels from absentee landlords, especially in the coastal plain and parts of the Galilee. When title was transferred, peasants who had worked the land for generations but did not hold formal deeds could be evicted. These transactions remained limited in absolute size before 1917 compared with the total cultivated area, but they established a precedent: dispossession could be carried out through legal sale once land had been detached from the people who farmed it.
Ottoman reforms also encouraged limited European penetration. The empire granted capitulations and later commercial concessions that allowed foreign powers to establish consulates, churches, schools and hospitals in cities such as Jerusalem, Jaffa, Haifa, Nazareth and Bethlehem. These institutions brought education and medical services but also increased external influence and debt. Railway projects, including the Jaffa–Jerusalem line opened in 1892 and the Hejaz Railway extension to Haifa and Dar’a, integrated Palestine more tightly into Ottoman and regional markets, making export agriculture, especially citrus around Jaffa, more profitable but also more vulnerable to price shocks and land concentration.
Religious and communal life under Ottoman rule was structured through the millet system. Recognised religious communities administered personal status law, religious courts and internal affairs. In Palestine, Muslim, Christian and Jewish communities managed their own religious institutions, schools and charitable endowments. Local conflicts and inequalities existed, including discrimination against non Muslim communities typical of the empire, but the state did not pursue a racial hierarchy that designated one ethno religious group as permanent masters and another as expendable. Anti Jewish pogroms of the type familiar by the Germans in Eastern Europe were not a regular feature of Ottoman Palestine; Jews lived in cities such as Jerusalem, Safad, Tiberias and Hebron alongside Muslim and Christian neighbours.
Ottoman conscription and war making brought direct harm to Palestinians, particularly during the First World War. From 1914 onward, young men were drafted into the Ottoman army and deployed to distant fronts, with high casualty rates. Jamal Pasha’s command in Greater Syria imposed requisitions of grain, animals and labour. A massive locust infestation in 1915 destroyed crops across Palestine and Syria. Combined with Allied naval blockades, German–Ottoman mismanagement and hoarding by local elites, this produced famine conditions across the region. In Mount Lebanon alone, historians estimate that between a quarter and a third of the population died between 1915 and 1918. Palestinian districts such as Jerusalem, Nablus, Gaza and the coastal plain also suffered severe shortages; families sold land, livestock and possessions to survive, and many left rural areas for cities or emigrated abroad. The Ottoman state bore responsibility for requisition policies and failure to secure food supplies, but famine, conscription and disease were byproducts of a collapsing empire at war rather than a targeted programme to remove Palestinians as a people.
Political surveillance and repression intensified in the war’s final years. Jamal Pasha’s authorities executed Arab intellectuals and activists in Damascus and Beirut in 1915–1916 for alleged treason and separatism; Palestinian figures were among those monitored, arrested or exiled. Newspaper censorship, bans on political clubs and suspicion of contact with the Allied powers limited organised political life. Yet during this same period Palestinian elites in Jerusalem, Jaffa, Haifa and Nablus continued to articulate local demands, including petitions against Zionist land purchase and immigration, within Ottoman legal and political channels.
By the time British forces advanced into Palestine in 1917–1918, Ottoman rule was hollowing out under military defeat and economic collapse but had not uprooted the country’s population. Village and town networks remained intact. Landholding patterns showed increased concentration and external encroachment, but the vast majority of agricultural land was still in Palestinian hands. The empire had extracted labour and resources and committed harsh acts of repression, especially during wartime, yet it had not installed a settler project designed to permanently displace Palestinians or declare the land primarily belonging to another people.
The significance of Ottoman rule for this audit is twofold. First, it provides a baseline of a multiethnic imperial framework in which Palestinians were a rooted, majority population whose presence was not in question, even when their political rights were constrained. Second, certain late Ottoman mechanisms, especially land registration and sale, created legal pathways that Zionist organisations exploited under and after the Mandate. The empire’s collapse opened space for a new colonial project not because it had already erased Palestine but because it left behind a populated, administratively mapped territory that others then claimed and reconfigured.
This section examines the long term formation of the land known as Palestine and of the population that is today called Palestinian. It reviews geological and environmental conditions, archaeological evidence, historical records, and genetic studies to assess patterns of habitation and continuity in the southern Levant.
Geologically, the area between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea forms part of the Levantine corridor along the Dead Sea Transform fault system. It is a land bridge between Africa and Eurasia with Mediterranean climate zones on the coast and highlands and semi-arid steppes toward the Jordan Valley and Naqab. These conditions produced reliable winter rains, fertile alluvial plains and terraced hillsides, and access to freshwater from springs and aquifers. Archaeology associates these environmental conditions with some of the earliest evidence of sedentary settlement and agriculture.
Archaeological research documents continuous human presence from the Paleolithic period onward. Early Homo sapiens remains at Skhul and Qafzeh caves date to roughly 120000 to 90000 years ago.
By around 12500 to 9500 BCE, the Natufian culture had established semi settled villages in the southern Levant, including at Ein Mallaha in the Galilee. These communities harvested wild cereals and exploited gazelle herds, forming a base for the later transition to agriculture. At Tell es Sultan, ancient Jericho in the Jordan Valley, Neolithic layers dating to roughly 10000 to 9000 BCE include stone architecture, defensive walls and one of the earliest known towers. Jericho and other early sites in the Jordan Valley and central highlands demonstrate the early shift from hunter gatherer life to permanent farming villages.
During the Early and Middle Bronze Age, approximately 3300 to 1550 BCE, the region was organised into Canaanite civilisation and city states that gave the land its earliest widely recorded name, the Land of Canaan. These populations spoke Northwest Semitic languages and formed a documented cultural foundation of the southern Levant. Egyptian records from the second millennium BCE refer to Canaan and list towns corresponding to sites across the region.
Canaanite society developed as a network of fortified city states rather than a single centralised kingdom. Excavations at Hazor, Megiddo, Lachish, Gaza and Tell el Ajjul show walled towns, palaces, temples, olive and wine presses and trade links with Egypt and Mesopotamia. Cities such as Jericho, Shechem, Gaza, Megiddo, Hazor and early Jerusalem functioned as independent polities with rulers, armies, patron deities and defensive walls.
Canaanite culture was technologically and economically advanced. Coastal populations later known as Phoenicians developed early alphabetic writing systems that influenced later Greek, Latin, Arabic and Hebrew scripts. Maritime trade connected Levantine ports to Cyprus, North Africa and the western Mediterranean. Agricultural systems included terraced farming of olives, grapes and figs that remain characteristic of the region today.
Religion in Canaanite society was polytheistic and centred on natural forces. Deities such as El, Baal and Asherah appear in inscriptions and ritual sites across the region and influenced later religious traditions. Early Jerusalem originated as a Canaanite settlement associated with the Jebusites and appears in Bronze Age sources under names derived from Urusalim.
Ancient DNA from Bronze Age skeletons in the southern Levant and from tombs at Sidon indicates that Canaanite populations form a major ancestral component of present day Levantine populations and that population continuity extends over several millennia.
In the Iron Age, approximately 1200 to 500 BCE, new political entities emerged on the Canaanite base. Archaeology identifies an Aegean linked material culture in coastal cities often associated with Philistine groups. Genetic studies indicate limited migration followed by absorption rather than population replacement. In the highlands and interior, inscriptions and regional records indicate multiple Iron Age polities including Israel, Judah, Moab, Ammon and Edom. Archaeological evidence from sites such as Hebron, Nablus and Jerusalem shows continuity in settlement and agriculture from the late Bronze Age through the Persian and Hellenistic periods.
The name Palestine has ancient roots. Egyptian inscriptions from the twelfth century BCE refer to Peleset on the southern coast. Greek authors later used Palaistine Syria for the area between Phoenicia and Egypt. After the Bar Kokhba revolt of 132 to 135 CE, Roman authorities renamed the province Syria Palaestina. Byzantine and later Christian sources used variants of Palestina for administrative districts. After the seventh century, Arab rulers used Jund Filastin to designate a fiscal and military district centred on Ramla and encompassing much of central and southern Palestine.
From the seventh century onward, linguistic and religious shifts occurred through Arabisation and Islamisation while populations remained locally rooted. Muslim, Christian and Jewish communities lived in Jerusalem, Hebron, Nablus, Gaza, Safad and Acre and in hundreds of villages. Historical travel records and administrative archives describe stable rural communities cultivating wheat, barley, olives, grapes and legumes across terraced hillsides and plains.
Historical and genetic research indicates long term continuity and blending rather than disappearance of earlier populations. Genetic studies of modern regional populations show ancestry derived largely from local Levantine groups with subsequent admixture from neighbouring regions. Y chromosome and mitochondrial studies identify shared deep ancestry among Palestinians, other Arab Levantines and Jewish populations, reflecting common regional roots before later religious and political differentiation.
Claims that the land was empty or that Palestinians represent a recent arrival are not supported by archaeological, historical or genetic evidence. The record instead shows continuous habitation shaped by successive layers of empire, language and religion rather than population erasure.
Embrace the enchanting journey of the timeless Palestinian anthem, “Shadu Ba’dakum Ya Ahl Filistin,” revived by the 85-year-old living legend, Halima Al-Kaswani (حليمة الكسواني). Her melodic resurgence captivated hearts in 2022, echoing the spirit of a resilient life. This simple song has been revived and resonated even further in the heart of Palestinians during the savage war on Gaza in October 2023.
Born in 1938, Halima witnessed the Palestinian catastrophe in 1948, finding refuge in Jordan’s Zarka camp since 1961. Rooted in a rural family in Jerusalem, her early years unfolded amidst the challenges of displacement.
Halima’s journey reflects the struggle of her family during the refugee years, navigating through Jordan’s ceasefires. Settling in the Zarka camp post-marriage, she devoted 25 years to distributing aid for Palestinian refugees through UNRWA.
A symbol of resilience, Halima proudly preserves her Palestinian identity, adorned in traditional attire. Amidst occupation, she remains unwavering, expressing defiance through soul-stirring melodies. Her rendition of “ShaduBa’dakum Ya Ahl Filistin” resonates, encapsulating the collective longing for Palestine. Halima Al-Kaswani, an embodiment of strength, continues to inspire with her enduring spirit and captivating voice.
For decades, Palestinians have endured unimaginable suffering at the hands of the Israeli apartheid regime—a system founded on the massacre and ethnic cleansing of the indigenous people of Palestine. Despite this tragic reality, the Palestinians’ resolve remains unshaken, and signs of their eventual victory are evident. Their struggle, rooted in justice and human dignity, is gaining global recognition, while the violent oppression of the Israeli regime continues to reveal its moral and political bankruptcy.
The Palestinians are the indigenous people of the land of Palestine, a fact that no amount of propaganda or historical revisionism can erase. The creation of Israel in 1948 came at the cost of ethnic cleansing during the Nakba, where over 700,000 Palestinians were forcibly removed from their homes. This displacement and ongoing oppression are not just historical injustices but daily realities for millions of Palestinians.
Despite decades of massacres, apartheid policies, and relentless attempts to erase their identity, Palestinians continue to resist. Their steadfastness in the face of overwhelming odds—both military and political—stands as a testament to their resilience. History has shown that indigenous peoples fighting for their land and freedom cannot be permanently subjugated, and the Palestinian cause is no exception.
Even as Gaza suffers under relentless bombardment, blockades, and starvation, and the West Bank grapples with the violence of illegal settlers, there are signs of hope. Globally, support for the Palestinian cause is growing. Protests in solidarity with Palestine are now a regular occurrence in cities across the world, from New York to London to Johannesburg. Activists, academics, and even some politicians are increasingly calling out Israeli apartheid for what it is.
The Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement continues to gain traction, isolating Israel economically and culturally. Public opinion in Western nations, particularly among younger generations, is shifting in favor of Palestinian rights. These are not insignificant developments; they reflect a growing awareness that Israel’s narrative of victimhood can no longer mask its role as the oppressor.
At the heart of Israel’s actions lies a deeply psychopathic societal mindset, one that dehumanizes Palestinians and normalizes their suffering. This mindset is evident in the casual brutality of Israeli settlers, who steal Palestinian land, burn farms, and attack civilians, often under the protection of the Israeli military.
The occupation forces themselves embody this psychopathy, operating as an instrument of state terror. In Gaza, children are bombed in their homes, hospitals are targeted, and food and water are weaponized as tools of starvation. In the West Bank, Palestinians are subjected to daily humiliations at checkpoints, home demolitions, and violent raids. This systematic cruelty is not the behavior of a society seeking peace but of one committed to domination and ethnic supremacy.
Israel’s apartheid regime persists largely due to the limitless military and political support it receives from the United States and European nations. Billions of dollars in U.S. aid fund the very weapons used to bomb Palestinian civilians. Political leaders in the West provide Israel with diplomatic cover, vetoing resolutions in international forums that seek to hold it accountable for its crimes.
This unwavering support for Israel, despite its ongoing genocide and starvation in Gaza, reveals the moral hypocrisy of Western nations. These governments champion democracy and human rights in their rhetoric but turn a blind eye to Israel’s open violations of international law.
Despite Western complicity, the tide is turning on the international stage. In a landmark decision, the International Criminal Court (ICC) recently issued an arrest warrant for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu for war crimes. While the ICC’s ability to enforce such warrants remains limited, this is a symbolic victory for Palestinians. It signals that the global legal system is beginning to hold Israeli leaders accountable for their actions.
This development also sends a powerful message to the Israeli regime: impunity will not last forever. The world is watching, and the perpetrators of genocide and apartheid will face justice, whether in courtrooms or the annals of history.
One of the most visible manifestations of Israeli apartheid is the role of illegal settlers, who function as enforcers of Israel’s colonial project. These settlers, emboldened by the state and protected by the military, routinely terrorize Palestinian communities. They steal land, destroy crops, set homes on fire, and kill Palestinians—all with impunity.
Their actions are not random but part of a broader strategy to displace Palestinians and expand Israeli control over the West Bank. Yet, the resistance of Palestinians in the face of these daily atrocities is a powerful reminder that they will not be driven from their land.
Palestinians will win because their cause is righteous and rooted in truth. Justice cannot be suppressed indefinitely. The global tide of support, combined with the growing isolation of Israel as an apartheid state, indicates that the moral arc of history is bending toward Palestinian liberation.
The world is increasingly recognizing that this is not a conflict between two equal sides but a struggle between an oppressed people and their oppressor. From grassroots activists to international organizations, the movement for Palestinian justice is gaining momentum.
Palestinians have the power of their resilience, the support of global solidarity, and the inevitability of justice on their side. While the road to freedom may be long and filled with tragedy, history shows that no oppressive regime lasts forever. Apartheid fell in South Africa, and it will fall in Israel, too. The Palestinian people, as the indigenous owners of the land, will prevail.
Every morning in Palestine, the routine begins with a haunting familiarity: the sound of armored patrols, the click of a metal gate slamming shut, and the anxious glance at the sky for helicopters. For millions of Palestinians living under Israeli military occupation, daily life is not just shaped by politics—it is defined by military control. As Saree Makdisi writes in Palestine Inside Out: An Everyday Occupation, the occupation is “comprehensive saturation of everyday life,” a stifling bureaucracy and iron grid of regulations that suffuse every aspect of existence.
Palestinians must navigate a labyrinth of permits and passes, often for the simplest tasks—visiting family, attending school, or even opening a small shop. Curfews, checkpoints, and military orders dictate movement, turning neighborhoods into fortified zones. In Hebron’s Old City, residents like Nidal al-Awiwi describe life as “prisoners in our house.” He recounts how curfews isolate families for months, preventing visits to loved ones—even during holidays. Many have been forced to leave their homes due to settler pressure and army actions, displacing communities that have lived there for generations.
The occupation is not abstract. It is a daily erosion of dignity. Schools, hospitals, and markets operate under constant threat—sometimes closed, sometimes bombed. People live with the ever-present fear of sudden raids, detention without trial, or destruction of property. Yet, amid this, there is resilience. Palestinians continue to cultivate gardens, hold community gatherings, and share stories that preserve their identity and hope. They organize, protest, and educate—not just to resist, but to survive.
The psychological toll is immense. Children grow up with the trauma of separation, adults bear the weight of unfulfilled dreams, and elders watch generations pass without the basic security of a home. As Makdisi notes, the occupation is “the longest-lasting military occupation of the modern age”—a living testament to the endurance of human spirit under crushing pressure.
For the outside world, this reality often remains invisible. The media focuses on headlines, not the daily grind of checkpoints and permits. But Palestinians are not passive victims. Their lives—marked by grief, anger, and quiet defiance—are the true story of a people fighting to reclaim not just land, but dignity. Understanding this daily reality is not just about history—it’s about justice. The world must recognize that the occupation is not a distant conflict, but a present, lived reality that demands attention, empathy, and action.
A cracked courtroom under a fading UN flag. The walls are covered in reports, resolutions, and silence. Handala stands with his back turned, facing the horizon of Gaza’s smoke. The Prosecutor enters, papers trembling in his hand — not from fear, but exhaustion.
⸻
Prosecutor:
You’ve been standing like that for fifty years, little one. Aren’t your legs tired?
Handala:
They don’t hurt as much as watching the world pretend to walk the talk of justice. Tell me, how’s your court doing these days — still allergic to certain passports?
Prosecutor (half-smiling):
Ah, you’ve heard. We tried to issue warrants — the kind that mean something, not the decorative kind. But apparently, some countries come with an “immunity subscription.” Paid annually, in weapons and vetoes.
Handala:
Oh yes, the “Platinum Member of the Untouchables Club.” Comes with free airstrikes and diplomatic cover. And if you complain — they accuse you of misconduct, right?
Prosecutor (bitter laugh):
Exactly. The law, they said, must be universal. But the moment I applied it universally, universality suddenly became “politically inconvenient.” Imagine that.
Handala:
I’ve been imagining for 75 years. You’re late. The world’s been watching children like me die — not metaphorically, not statistically — and calls it “complex.”
Prosecutor:
They tell me international law is “powerful.” They said it after Nuremberg. They said it in The Hague. But it turns out the law’s power stops at the gates of Washington.
Handala:
And London. And Brussels. You see, when a brown child is bombed, it’s called “self-defense.” When a white city is invaded, it’s called “a moral outrage.”
The sanctions? Swift. The condemnations? Poetic. The double standards? Biblical.
Prosecutor (sighs):
When Russia invaded Ukraine, we opened investigations overnight. But when Israel invades Gaza, we open… debates.
Handala (sarcastic):
Don’t be so harsh. They did open something — more arms shipments. Wouldn’t want the occupation to run out of bullets before breakfast.
Prosecutor:
We spoke of the rules-based order. But every time Israel breaks the rules, someone changes the order.
We spoke of humanitarian law. But Gaza has become a laboratory for testing its limits — or proving its irrelevance.
Handala:
And yet, you still wear that robe. Why?
Prosecutor:
Because if I take it off, they win entirely. Someone has to keep the idea of justice alive — even if it’s on life support.
Handala (turns his head slightly, for the first time):
You remind me of a stubborn olive tree. It keeps growing, even when the soil is poisoned.
Prosecutor:
And you remind me of conscience itself — small, silent, but impossible to kill.
Handala:
Conscience doesn’t die, it just migrates. Maybe the next generation will find it buried beneath the rubble of Gaza and replant it somewhere that still believes in humanity.
Prosecutor:
Do you think they’ll forgive us — the adults who built a world where law bowed to power?
Handala:
Forgive you? Maybe. Forget you? Never. They’ll read about this time and ask,
“How could you watch the slaughter of children and still call yourselves civilized?”
Prosecutor (softly):
And what will you tell them, Handala?
Handala (turns fully, eyes fierce):
I’ll tell them I never stopped turning my back on hypocrisy — because facing it would have broken me.
⸻
Curtain falls.
The courtroom echoes with silence. The laws remain on paper.
But Handala still stands — back turned, fists clenched —
waiting for the world to grow a conscience worthy of his gaze.
In the heart of the Middle East, Palestine stands as a testament to unyielding spirit. Despite the brutal occupation, this ancient land echoes with tales of perseverance from the bustling streets of Jerusalem to Gaza.
The spirit of Palestinians transcends borders, symbolizing a connection to a rich history and a collective aspiration for self-determination. Despite the brutality of the zionist occupation and displacement of people from their homes, the Palestinian people remain resolute.
Amidst adversity, Palestinian identity thrives, shaped by a vibrant cultural heritage spanning millennia. Traditional embroidery, oud music, and the aroma of Palestinian cuisine embody a people determined to preserve their unique heritage.
The no-surrender attitude resonates in Palestinian communities, seen in the determination to rebuild damaged homes and infrastructures , nurture education, and provide worldwide peaceful campaign (BDS) to boycott brands that support the ongoing Israeli occupation. They managed to gain worldwide public support for their righteous cause and succeeded to disclose the inhumane nature of their oppressor.
Palestinians are famous for their bravery, cleverness, patience, determination, dedication to freedom, innovation, endurance and above all undefeated nature that proudly stood against all previous colonial powers and current brutal and cruel Israeli occupation. This is reflected in their unshakable refusal to bow to their enemy’s heinous plans of ethnic cleansing , massacres and constant oppression.
As the world observes the ongoing genocide and displacement of Gazans by the savage Israeli war machine, Palestinian story remains as a worldwide symbol of resilience and hope. “Palestine is my home ” reverberates as a declaration of identity, a call for justice, and an unwavering commitment to a future where Palestinians determine their destiny.
The spirit of Palestinian people is an enduring flame, which inspires not only those who call it home but all people who believe in freedom, human right and justice.
This audit examines the role of Israeli Jewish religious institutions, settlement yeshivot, and allied Christian Zionist networks in shaping anti-Palestinian ideology from 1948 to 2026.
After 1967, Rabbi Zvi Yehuda Kook and his followers framed the occupation as fulfilment of divine promise. The Gush Emunim movement transformed this theology into a settlement programme treating Palestinian presence as an obstacle to redemption.
Rabbi Meir Kahane’s Kach movement openly promoted expulsion of Palestinians and entered the Knesset in 1984. Although banned in 1994, its teachings continued in religious institutions whose alumni later entered government coalitions.
After the 1994 Hebron massacre, rabbis publicly praised the perpetrator Baruch Goldstein and his grave became a pilgrimage site. Religious glorification of violence continued through halakhic texts such as Torat HaMelech, which argued that killing non-Jews, including children, could be permitted in wartime. Investigations produced no convictions and the text continued circulating.
State-funded rabbis used official platforms to promote racial hierarchy. Senior rabbis declared non-Jews existed to serve Jews and that Arabs should accept subordination or leave. Municipal rabbis issued letters urging Jews not to rent homes to Arabs; investigations produced no indictments.
Settlement yeshivot became hubs of radicalisation. Rabbis endorsed “price tag” attacks on Palestinian villages and invoked the biblical concept of Amalek. Youth from these communities later participated in attacks such as the Duma arson killings.
Christian Zionist networks added international religious support. Organisations such as Christians United for Israel mobilised political lobbying, settlement funding, and mass rallies framing expansion and war as divine mandate while largely ignoring Palestinian suffering.
Military religious structures also played a role in spreading religiously framed hostility toward Palestinians. The Israel Defense Forces Military Rabbinate expanded its influence over soldiers’ education from the 2000s onward. Investigations by Israeli journalists and NGOs documented the distribution of religious pamphlets during the 2008–2009 and 2014 Gaza wars describing the campaigns as sacred missions and urging soldiers not to show compassion toward the enemy population. Military chaplains delivered battlefield sermons referencing biblical wars and divine promise, indicating institutional acceptance of religious language in combat settings.
Religious nationalist youth movements and pre-military academies became important transmission channels. Dozens of religious preparatory academies expanded rapidly from the 1990s onward and now train a large proportion of combat officers. Studies by Israeli sociologists show that graduates of these academies are heavily represented in elite combat units and settlement leadership. Curricula in several institutions emphasised Jewish sovereignty over the entire land and framed Palestinians primarily as adversaries, strengthening the integration of religious nationalist ideology into military culture and decision-making.
Settlement expansion was closely linked to religious funding networks. Donations from religious charities and diaspora organisations supported settlement infrastructure, yeshivot, and religious tourism in the West Bank, while pilgrimage programmes brought thousands of visitors annually to settlements framed as biblical heritage sites. Religious political parties gained sustained influence over education, settlement policy, and policing, allowing religious leaders to shape legislation and public discourse.
The audit concludes that Israeli religious institutions functioned as a parallel authority system, producing theological justifications that normalised dispossession and violence and contributed materially to the entrenchment of apartheid and territorial expansion.
