in New timeOtto Ekman writes about the killing of Rifaat Al-Arir, the Palestinian poet who was killed along with his brother Salah, his nephew Muhammad, his sister Asma, and her three children Alaa, Yahya and Muhammad, when an Israeli missile hit Saleh's house on December 6.
All indications indicate that the intention was to kill Rifaat.
Immediately afterwards, Tablet Magazine He published a ridiculous article somewhere between an obituary, an ax, and propaganda. Ekman says the review is emblematic of how the conflict is being fought on multiple fronts: domestically and internationally, on the ground, online and in traditional media.
But “the undocumented naming of Hamas and the general slander of dead Palestinians is unfortunately not something new in the Western media, and was not the case before October 7.”
the WaveEkman writes that his treatment of Aller's death touches on the discussion of literary quality in the broader sense. Schreyer's review is emblematic of how literature, poetry, and criticism are always used to kick the enemy when he is down.
Women kicking against the odds
Dario Antonelli summons Lynn Qatawi, coach of the Ramallah women’s football team. Antonelli visited the team, one of the best teams in the Palestinian women's league, a year ago. If the situation was difficult then, it is even more difficult now.
After October 7, the men's league was suspended with immediate effect. But women's football continued regardless. Unlike the men's team, women's football in Palestine is not affiliated with FIFA, meaning it is free to regulate when the season begins and ends. This allowed the teams to adapt to the new conditions.
Qatawi currently has four players in Qalandiya Camp, a refugee camp near Ramallah, where the Israeli army launches brutal raids. Football should come second, even though Al Qatawi knows it is essential to the well-being of all the players on the team.
Its role has changed since October 7. She feels a sense of responsibility, as a coach but also as a person. What happens in Gaza also affects the West Bank. “We belong to the same people and live under the same brutal occupation,” she explains. “It is difficult to organize training sessions. The mental health of the players is suffering and it is difficult for young people to deal with all the difficulties they face; their peers in Gaza are being killed or threatened.
The possibility of peace disappears
I don't have an “I told you so” in me. I expected that, but I couldn't see any of this coming. Berlin-based Israeli writer Matti Shimlov writes about the days following the October 7 attack and the Israeli response.
Shimlov calls his mother in Haifa and tries to explain to her that not all Palestinians support Hamas. She doesn't understand. “They're not human,” she says. He thinks this might not be the time for rationality, as she has been glued in front of the TV all day, worrying about the hostages and their families. He wrote in an Instagram post that despite the terrorism, destruction and heavy losses, he had not lost hope in Jewish and Palestinian coexistence. One of his relatives replies that he should be ashamed.
“I felt alone and lost. I'm not in Israel, so I probably can't imagine the situation. But again, I'm not unfamiliar with this kind of event.”
Shmoelov grew up in Haifa, which was once a cosmopolitan, multinational city with a Palestinian majority. Shimelov's grandfather fled growing anti-Semitism in Iran in the late 19th century. He was a Jewish clothing merchant and continued the family business to Shimlov's father, who spoke Persian, Yiddish, Arabic, Hebrew and English. “But this kind of life stopped long ago in the Middle East.”
At university, when Hezbollah rockets fell on Haifa, Shimlov began reading about Palestinian civil rights movements such as Equality and Justice and began to understand the other narrative: the Palestinian narrative.
Moving to Berlin brought new friendships that could only be achieved far from home. He met someone from Gaza for the first time and started playing backgammon with him regularly. “Will he still want to play with me now?” He also befriended a man who once fought for Hezbollah, which Shimelo had encountered as an Israeli soldier. Can these friendships survive this current war?
“I tell my partner that the possibility of peace between Palestinians and Israelis has been lost. She cries and says, ‘Don’t tell me this will never happen.’ And I cry with her.
