Growing up, my understanding of the conflict in Palestine was limited. I didn’t even know that Palestine encompassed Gaza and the West Bank, let alone the complexity of the situation. I had seen a documentary about Jerusalem when I was younger, which portrayed the three Abrahamic faiths vying for this holy land. People from each religion spoke about their experiences of war within the city and how they were living post-war. My youthful mind wondered: why can’t they all just live peacefully?
The documentary, however, painted a skewed picture, one of everyone being equally affected. I didn’t realise then that there was something called Zionism and that this movement of Jewish nationalism would result in such oppression. No one told me that Zionist ideology was tied to the displacement and systemic dehumanisation of an entire people.
It wasn’t until I watched 5 Broken Cameras during my university years that I truly woke up to the Palestinian cause. This was my first real exposure to the brutality of the occupation, and it stirred an anger within me that was difficult to contain. But that anger was soon met with a helplessness—a feeling I believe many others share—because while I was learning, watching, and discussing, nothing seemed to change for the Palestinians themselves.
Throughout my life, I’ve seen sporadic bursts of outrage in the media and among the global Muslim community. Protests flare up, voices rise in defence of Palestine, and then it fades, only to return in cycles. But today, what we’re witnessing is not just a conflict, not just an occupation. We are watching a genocide unfold, with every new atrocity serving as a reminder of the Zionist agenda.
At this point, those who have empathy for the Palestinians already feel it. Those with the heart to support their right to live and govern themselves have long made their decisions. No new debate, no fresh footage of airstrikes or Israeli aggression, will change anyone’s stance. The reality is, the world has made up its mind.
What more can we say? We’re wasting breath, repeating arguments that have already been made. Those who are capable of changing the tide against Israel know who they are and what they are capable of. So now, more than anything, we need to document.
I am not a historian, but I know enough to see the broader cycles at play. Nations rise, and they fall. Civilisations reach their peak and then fade into history. This isn’t exclusive to Islam, though we, as Muslims, have a more profound understanding. The fall of tyrants and the rise of the oppressed is not karma; it’s Allah’s justice unfolding, and that gives me comfort amidst this chaos.
For those of us who know the hadith, we are already aware of the fate that awaits the Yahud. Everything happening right now is part of Allah’s plan, and that brings me solace. I pray that the Palestinians’ pain eases and that they find strength in the knowledge that their dead are martyrs (shaheed). Their suffering in this life will be met with honour and eternal peace in the next.
At the same time, I pray that the unity we’ve seen in the Muslim ummah during these atrocities transforms into a greater spiritual awakening. That we, too, turn back to Allah, be righteous in our deeds, and embody the true meaning of brotherhood. The hypocrites among us will reveal themselves, but it’s not for us to determine. After all, only Allah knows what’s in people’s hearts until they reveal themselves through their actions (Characteristics of the hypocrite).
In this world, despite what we see with our eyes—the destruction, the suffering—know this: the Zionists are the real losers. And the Palestinians, oppressed though they may be, are the true victors. They are the chosen people, and no amount of Israeli brutality can change that. We witness the marauders wreaking havoc, but the believers’ hearts remain steadfast in their ultimate victory.
May Allah grant them victory in this life and the next.
