My last visit to Al-Shati refugee camp was in early 2013. Located on the Mediterranean coast, north of Gaza, Al-Shati was otherwise known as the “beach camp”. Vendors sold fruit under multi-colored umbrellas. The cats slept in the middle of the narrow streets. Children jostled each other at the skipping rope in the shade.
Beach Camp was established in 1948 after the forced displacement of 750,000 Palestinians as part of the Nakba. Initially, the camp hosted around 23,000 refugees. Over the next seven decades, this number grew to 90,000, cramped into an area of 0.5 square kilometers (0.2 square miles), 70 times more populated than central London.
Gaza residents have lived under blockade for 16 years and the Israeli occupation controls most of what enters and leaves Gaza. Beach Camp was no different – and residents relied largely on aid and services from the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) to survive, including a health center, a food distribution and several school buildings.
Beach Camp Elementary School was beautifully maintained. I was allowed to go up to the roof, where I could see the fence with Israel on one side. Offshore, several Israeli patrol boats prevented Palestinian fishermen from sailing further than six nautical miles.
The school was run by inspiring and hard-working teachers, whose philosophy was to create a calm atmosphere conducive to discovery, music, drama and art. Some students showed me their work. Many were drawings of airplanes, fences and bombs. But there were also other drawings: those of their parents, their brothers, their sisters and their friends. All of the children obviously had underlying trauma, but they also had a desire to learn, share and play.
On October 9, two days after the deplorable Hamas attack in southern Israel, reports emerged of an Israeli airstrike on Beach Camp. This was not the first strike on the camp. In May 2021, at least 10 Palestinians, including eight children, were killed in an airstrike. It wasn’t the last either. Beach Camp has been targeted several times over the past three weeks.
When I hear news of bombings in Gaza, I think of that Beach Camp school. I don’t know if he’s still there. I don’t know if these children and these teachers are still alive. I don’t know.
The Israeli army dropped 25,000 tons of bombs on a tiny strip of land populated by 2.3 million people. There is no reason to believe that they are trying to avoid civilian deaths. More than 9,900 people have been killed in Gaza, including more than 4,800 children.
Survivors still under siege lack basic means of survival: water, fuel, food and medical supplies. Doctors perform surgical procedures without anesthesia. Mothers watch their babies fight to survive in incubators that have run out of electricity. People are forced to drink sea water. More than a million people have been displaced from their homes.
The Hamas attack, which killed 1,400 Israelis and took 200 hostages, is absolutely appalling and must be condemned. The victims and hostages are young people who wanted to listen to music. They are nieces and nephews. They are jewelry designers. They are factory workers. They are peace activists. The pain and anguish felt by their families will last forever.
This cannot justify indiscriminate bombing and starvation against the Palestinian people, who are being punished for a heinous crime they did not commit. In the wake of horror, we need voices for de-escalation and peace. Instead, politicians around the world continue to give the Israeli government the green light to starve and massacre the Palestinian people in the name of self-defense.
Every person in Gaza has a name and a face; we mourn babies in incubators just as deeply as we mourn middle-aged men killed crossing the road. In any case, we mourn the theft of beautiful and creative lives. Artists whose paintings we will never see. Singers whose songs we will never sing. Authors whose books we will never read. Chefs whose kunafa we will never eat. Teachers whose lessons we will never learn.
For as long as I can remember, Gaza has been reduced, on our television screens, to a site of debris and despair, but beneath the rubble lie the silent and mundane foundations of our common humanity. Morning coffee runs, hot showers, shopping trips, card games and bedtime stories. Friendship, heartbreak, love, disappointment, boredom and suspense. Schools, mosques, theaters, universities, libraries, playgrounds and hospitals. Hopes, dreams, fears, worries and joys. We are not just witnessing mass death. We are witnessing the erasure of an entire culture, an identity and a people.
The International Criminal Court defines genocide according to several criteria. Genocide can be committed by killing, causing serious bodily or mental harm, deliberately subjecting living conditions likely to result in physical destruction, imposing measures intended to prevent births, or forcibly transferring children. In each case, there must be an intention to destroy, in whole or in part, a particular national, ethnic, racial or religious group.
On November 2, seven UN special rapporteurs declared that they “remain convinced that the Palestinian people are at grave risk of genocide.” This follows the resignation of Craig Mokhiber, director of the UN office in New York, who called the horrors of Gaza a “textbook case of genocide” aimed at “the accelerated destruction of the last vestiges of indigenous life in Palestine.
In his resignation letter, he referred to the “general massacre of the Palestinian people… based entirely on their status as Arabs,” as well as the continued seizure of homes in the West Bank. He pointed to “explicit declarations of intent from the leadership of the Israeli government and military.”
He did not cite a specific statement, perhaps because there are too many to fit into one letter. He could have been referring to National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir who said that “until Hamas releases the hostages in its hands, the only thing that must enter Gaza are hundreds of tons of Air Force Explosives. not an ounce of humanitarian aid.” Or perhaps he was referring to Galit Distel Atbaryan, a lawmaker from Israel’s ruling Likud party, who called for “wiping Gaza from the face of the earth.”
Genocide is a word that should be used sparingly and cautiously. There are many horrors in history that are hideous enough in themselves not to constitute genocide. The term has a legal definition, legal basis and legal implications. This is why, when international experts in this field warn us of genocide, we must sit up and listen. And that is why we need an immediate ceasefire, followed by an urgent investigation by the International Criminal Court.
The ICC should not only investigate the crime of genocide, but also every war crime committed by all parties over the past month. The UK Government has the power and responsibility to request this inquiry. Until now, he has refused to denounce the atrocities taking place before our eyes. The power outages in Gaza may be temporary, but impunity is permanent and our government continues to give the Israeli military the cover it needs to commit its crimes in the dark.
We will continue to demonstrate for as long as it takes to achieve a ceasefire. To obtain the release of the hostages. To stop the siege of Gaza. And end the occupation. We make these demands because we know what is at stake: the curiosity, creativity and kindness of the Palestinian people.
I remember on the way home from school we passed a food growing project. The project had purchased 50 hectares of a former Israeli settlement. All the buildings had been destroyed by those who had since left – and the Palestinians had transformed the debris into a cooperative farm. Soon, I was told, olives and fruit would grow.
I will never give up hope that these olives and fruits will grow. The people of Gaza lent me their joy, their empathy and their humanity. One day, I hope to return it to them – in a free and independent Palestine.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Al Jazeera.
