Friday, January 19, 2024

The Deadly Toll that the Genocidal War in Gaza is having on Palestinian journalists and why they have always been--and continue to be-- targets of the Israeli Military

https://www.thenation.com/article/world/palestine-journalists-syndicate-interview/

Q&A 

“Think of It as a Genocide of Journalists”

An interview with a member of the Palestinian Journalists’ Syndicate about the unprecedented killing of reporters in Gaza.

by Lylla Younes
January 18, 2024
The Nation 
Pro-Palestinian activists and supporters carry placards, including a sign featuring names of journalists hurt during the latest conflict, during a National March for Palestine in central London on January 13, 2024.

Pro-Palestinian activists and supporters carry placards, including a sign featuring names of journalists killed during the latest conflict, during a National March for Palestine in central London on January 13, 2024. (Henry Nicholls / AFP via Getty Images)

Last May, the Committee to Protect Journalists published a special report on the Israeli military’s targeted killing of Palestinian journalists. The CPJ investigated 20 instances since the turn of the millennium in which Palestinian journalists—most infamously, the Al Jazeera correspondent Shireen Abu Akleh—were slain by IDF soldiers and found that in none of them was anyone held responsible.

Half a year later, journalists are once again under attack again in Palestine, this time at an unprecedented rate. Since the Israeli military began its assault on Gaza last October, at least 75 Palestinian journalists have been killed, according to the CPJ. But that figure is likely an undercount; other organizations closer to the ground with less lag time between data updates put the number at over 100. Some Palestinian journalists were killed in targeted strikes on their homes, others in hospitals and schools where they were reporting, and others on the road, traveling between assignments and the makeshift encampments to which they’d been displaced. CPJ has called Israel’s war the deadliest in modern history for reporters. And once again, it appears likely that there will be little to no accountability.

In the wake of this slaughter, members of the Palestinian Journalists’ Syndicate, the premier organization for Palestinian reporters living and working in their homeland, have abandoned their usual duties and shifted into emergency mode, doing what they can to keep their colleagues in Gaza alive.

Shuruq As’ad, a correspondent for MCD Radio Montecarlo and member of the syndicate, has spent the past several months trying to secure basic necessities such as blankets and food for reporters in Gaza, a process that has involved appealing to international organizations for help and raising funds from abroad. I spoke with As’ad recently to discuss the different efforts ongoing at the syndicate and how the current attacks on the press in Palestine compare to those of previous years.

This interview was translated from the original Arabic and edited for length and clarity.

Lylla Younes: Let’s start with the origins of the Palestinian Journalists’ Syndicate.

Shuruq As’ad: It was founded in 1979, first under the name “The Arab Journalists Syndicate of Jerusalem.” It wasn’t possible to use the word “Palestine” in those days [before and during the First Intifada], but after the Palestinian Authority was formed in 1994, we were able to change it to the current name.

LY: In what parts of Palestine do your members work?

SA: We move around. For example, I have a Jerusalem ID, so I typically work with our colleagues in Jerusalem. We also have representatives all over the West Bank—in Jenin, Nablus, Ramallah—and in Gaza. At the moment, moving around is very difficult, because the checkpoints are treacherous. We have about 56 journalists that have been detained since October 7. Some have been released, but about 80 percent remain behind bars, and many have been treated brutally. The Israeli army invaded their homes and arrested them for no reason other than for what they’ve written.

When the war started, everything we were working on was put on hold, and we formed a crisis unit with various tasks.

LY: Can you describe some of the things the crisis unit is doing to support reporters in Gaza?

SA: Some of us are working on the documentation of each day’s events, collecting information on what’s happening with our colleagues on the ground. We’re also doing our best to help injured reporters receive treatment outside of Gaza, which has been very, very hard. The third thing we’re doing is working with the Egyptian Journalists’ Syndicate and the International Federation of Journalists to prepare legal filings for the International Criminal Court, just like we did with Shireen Abu Akleh and Yasser Murtada [Palestinian reporters killed in 2022 and 2018, respectively]. Preparing a legal filing is not an easy thing, but after our experience with Shireen and Yasser we have a better understanding of how to do it right.

LY: What kind of information are you collecting about your colleagues on the ground in Gaza, and how are you managing to source that information?

SA: The documentation aspect is very important. If someone was martyred, we want to figure out what outlet they worked for, whether they were displaced at the time, and when and how they were killed. We want to know whose homes were targeted and whether any of their family members were martyred. You can’t imagine how much work this is, verifying each of these facts, because there’s no electricity and the phone lines are cut. We try to follow our colleagues on the ground each day to know where they are. Most used to work in the north of the strip, in Gaza City [where the media offices were concentrated]. But now, 1,200 journalists are displaced. Not a single one of them is working from home. So every day we follow them to see if they’re stationed in the hospitals or near the Rafah Crossing. We try to find out what their needs are on any given day—Internet access, eSIMs, jackets, blankets, tents—and fulfill those needs.

LY: How are you able to mobilize these supplies? Where are you sourcing them from?

SA: From inside Gaza. There is nothing getting to them from outside of Gaza, because they aren’t letting anything through the Rafah Crossing. Of course, one of the big problems with this is that many of the things they need are not available anymore. For example, I’ve been working with a young woman to secure jackets for our reporters. She’s spent the past two days going around Rafah and Deir al-Balah and hasn’t been able to find any, and even if she did find some, they would cost around 300 shekels [or $80] apiece, whereas before they cost about 50 shekels [or $13] each. So this is very hard. We are all trying to raise money from friends and family in the US and other places.

LY: Are you getting help from other organizations outside of Palestine?

SA: The syndicate is in contact with a number of international organizations—the Committee to Protect Journalists, the International Federation of Journalists, UNESCO—to support these fundraising efforts, but it is very hard. If you look at photos of Rafah today, you will find that you can hardly fit a finger between people because it is so crowded [from the displacement]. The situation in Gaza is not something that the syndicate can manage on its own, to be honest with you. The need is so much greater than the supply.

We don’t have any money, so we rely on project funding. We try to import safety gear, but the Israelis usually block these efforts so we have to appeal to international organizations to assist us. We have lawyers that we hire whenever one of our reporters is arrested or injured. We are trying as hard as we can to work with our partners to secure our reporters some measure of stability, so that they can be, first of all, safe, and secondly, so that they can have the tools they need to report. Because, bravely, they continue to report. They are not only displaced, but 70 percent of them have lost their homes in the bombings. Almost everyone has family or close friends who have been martyred. The most basic things, they don’t have. There was a time when they would call us and say, “We need to eat. We can’t find anything to eat.”

LY: How about now? Are reporters in Gaza managing to eat?

SA: Now, we are providing them with food, and I won’t tell you how. All of it is coming from inside Gaza. At one point, we were trying to get things through the border with Egypt. We managed to convince some humanitarian organizations to consider journalists in their shipments of aid into Gaza, and they sent in blankets and tents at one point, but not anymore. Our reporters are working, and at the same time, they are trying to gather supplies.

LY: With almost everyone in Gaza currently displaced from their home, how are ordinary Gazans getting their news?

SA: This is a very big challenge, and not just because of the displacement. You have around 66 media headquarters that have been bombed and 24 distribution networks that don’t work anymore. And in case you’re not familiar, most people in Gaza get their news from the radio because they don’t have televisions at home. But now, with most of the radio stations bombed, we’re looking for alternatives. For example, we’re trying to figure out if we can do a joint venture with the BBC to get some time on the airwaves.

LY: Conditions have also deteriorated in the Occupied West Bank since October 7, with the Israeli military conducting repeated raids on Palestinian cities like Jenin and Tulkarem. How are journalists faring there?

SA: We have documented hundreds of violations against reporters in the West Bank, between beatings and unlawful detentions. They are being mistreated at checkpoints, where soldiers force them to take off their clothes and break their cameras. Many have been threatened—I wrote a whole report about this issue—you can’t imagine the number of threats, not just from soldiers and police, but also from armed settlers. I went to Nablus a while ago and it was absolutely terrifying, between the threats, the detentions, and the beatings. I was sitting at the checkpoint wearing my press vest and helmet and scared that the settlers were going to start beating me, can you imagine? In Jerusalem, the situation is also a disaster. Every week, when we go to cover the Friday prayers, the army and the police attack us directly. Not to mention the amount of cybercrime, which is a whole other issue, with huge amounts of posts being taken down and accounts hacked, even if it takes time.

LY: Can you remember another time in your career when the conditions for journalists in Palestine were this difficult?

SA: In my lifetime, no. But there is something very important that I have to note, which is that what is happening right now is nothing new for us as journalists in Palestine. It’s more brutal. It’s more aggressive. You can think of it as a genocide of journalists, a massacre. More than 100 reporters have been killed in Gaza in 90 days. Every day we are losing one or two of our colleagues. But this is not new. This is the result of a political system in which the police, the mainstream media, the parliament, and the judiciary are all complicit. Their refrain is always the same—that we are murderers and terrorists, that we are ISIS, that we are animals and not human. There is no immunity or protection for Palestinian journalists, the same as for Palestinian doctors. All of the protections under international humanitarian law don’t apply to us.

If you think about all the major events of the past 20 years—the invasion of 2003, the 2006 war between Israel and Lebanon, the evictions in the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood of Jerusalem, the repeated incursions on Jenin, the attacks on Al Aqsa mosque—we have been on the front lines getting attacked. Between 2003 and October 6, 2023, the Israelis martyred 55 reporters, three of which were non-Palestinian. Between 2012 and October 6, 2023, we recorded over 9,000 violations against journalists, with around one or two violations documented per day. And that’s just the 2000s. We’re not even talking about the days before we began documenting everything, for example, during the First Intifada in the early 1990s. But what we are finding is that every year, the aggression is higher, higher, higher, higher.

LY: From those numbers, it appears that the Israelis have killed more Palestinian reporters in the past three months than in the past 20 years. How do you make sense of these figures?

SA: I don’t think the targeting is happening just because they want to block our images and words, even though, of course, that is part of it. This has always been a war of images and words, since 1948. But their tactics are also about creating fear in order to drive Palestinian journalists out of their jobs and out of their homeland. Their goal is to make civil society impossible in Palestine, and journalism is a big part of that.

Which brings me back to what we’ve been doing at the syndicate, day in, day out. We check in with our colleagues in Gaza. We ask them, are you alright? Do you have food, do you have water? Did the money we sent arrive? We are working 24 hours a day. And they are doing the same thing as us—they are working as journalists, and at the same time, they are trying to keep the people around them alive.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

 

Lylla Younes is a senior staff writer at Grist.


 

 

 

 


Thursday, January 18, 2024

How To Systematically Kill Critical Thought, Ethical Outrage, and Political Dissent While Pretending That The Killers/Liars Are the Actual Victims: The Deadly Tragedy of the Fred Dube Story And What It Continues To Mean Today



PHOTO: Fred Dube at a 1981 UN meeting, “South African Women and Labour under Apartheid.” Image: UN Photo

Politics

Africa, Anti-Semitism, Education, Israel and Palestine, Race
 
The Silencing of Fred Dube

Forty years ago, the exiled South African activist dared to teach Zionism critically. A furious backlash ensued.

by Abena Ampofoa Asare
January 18, 2024
Boston Review


At the State University of New York at Stony Brook, the syllabus for an Africana Studies summer course entitled The Politics of Race includes prompts for students in need of term paper guidance. The twelve optional topics are deliberately provocative: “Can a Christian or a democrat be a racist?” “I.Q. tests are a means for blaming the victim.” “Zionism is as much racism as Nazism was racism.” A historian visiting from Israel’s Ben-Gurion University complains that the latter topic, thus the course, thus the professor are examples of anti-Semitism. An uproar ensues.

This year is 1983. The professor under scrutiny is Ernest Frederick Dube, the South African anti-apartheid activist, Robben Island survivor, Cornell-trained psychologist, husband, and father. Branded as an anti-Semite, he will be gone from the Stony Brook campus by 1987.

The fear and silencing on college campuses today is not arbitrary or new. It is rigorously and virulently inculcated.

When I began teaching at Stony Brook, my colleagues in Africana Studies told me Dube’s story in different ways. Each time, I understood the lesson: the politics of Israel-Palestine are cordoned-off; they are an arena where you dare not tread. Even when, like Dube, your faculty peers support you, students lead protests against your dismissal, and you are a hero of the South African anti-apartheid movement, you may still end up losing your home and position.

Colleagues outside my department do not know of the Dube affair, but they, like faculty across the United States, are inexorably caught in its gravity. House Resolution 894, eight-hour congressional hearings, push-outs of university presidents, and draconian university policies make it plain: a political firestorm awaits American professors, university administrators, and students who refuse the reductive scripts of Israeli nationalism in public. Before Israel’s latest siege on Gaza and the atrocities of October 7, before the existence of Hamas, before the Canary Mission’s doxxing campaigns, there was Fred Dube.

His story is a spectacular example of how mere complaints can morph into crises when they trigger levers of power. Over the decades, there have been many Fred Dubes, a parade of losses that testifies to the cost of speaking out about Israel’s nationalist violence (which, of course, is endemic to the nation-state and is neither religiously rooted nor exceptional). Cultural theorist Ariella Aisha Azoulay speaks of an “ideological campaign of terror” weaponizingaccusations of anti-Semitism against those who refuse to unsee the region’s violence. Decades of reprisal have produced a practice of stilted sentences, empty platitudes, and maddening silence in institutions that would be bastions of critical thought.

The fear and silencing on college campuses today is not arbitrary or new. It is a policy passed down from generation to generation; it is rigorously and virulently inculcated, dangerous both because of whom it harms and what it buries.

In 1983 a student shared the syllabus from Dube’s summer class with a visiting historian from Israel’s Ben-Gurion University. Incensed, the scholar fired off a two-page letter to Stony Brook’s Dean of Social and Behavioral Sciences, the Vice Provost, the Provost, and fourteen members of the faculty, accusing Dube of the “sloganeering that is practiced by the anti-Semite.” Before doing so, the historian never broached his concern with Dube or attended any of Dube’s classes, which he had taught at the university since 1977 without any complaint. The allegations against Dube were launched on the visiting historian’s very last day at the school; his moment of outrage, though, generated enough heat to explode Dube’s career and send shockwaves through the campus.

Shortly after it was sent, the complaint escalated into a national controversy. The Long Island chapter of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) of B’nai B‘rith, which had gotten hold of the letter, mounted a publicity and lobbying campaign insisting that Dube’s course and teaching were anti-Semitic and should not be allowed to continue. In 1975 the same ADL chapter had lodged a complaint about the university’s affirmative action policy and successfully pushed Stony Brook to back away from a commitment to matriculate “women, minorities, and low-income applicants” at the new health sciences center. This time, the ADL’s concerns were not met with immediate acquiescence. A faculty committee investigated the summer course and found that “the bounds of academic freedom had not been crossed”; campus administrators concurred.

The Long Island ADL’s regional director, Rabbi Arthur Seltzer, was not pleased with the conclusion. Days after the findings were announced, he ushered the matter directly to Albany. At the state capital, governor Mario Cuomo responded swiftly, issuing a statement. Dube’s teaching was a “justification for genocide” and “intellectually dishonest,” he declared; the faculty support for him was unfathomable. Once Albany had spoken, Stony Brook president Marburger also published a letter declaring the linkage between Zionism, racism, and Nazism “abhorrent,” and calling for circumspection and sensitivity.

When a faculty committee found that “the bounds of academic freedom had not been crossed,” an ADL regional director escalated the case to governor Mario Cuomo.

For the communities mobilized against Dube, this was still not enough. The newspaper Jewish Press recommended “a complete investigation of the credentials of every member of the Stony Brook faculty.” The secretary of the Long Island Association of Reform Rabbis called for President Marburger’s resignation. In an op-ed, Yeshiva University vice president Emanuel Rackman lamented that at Stony Brook, “anti-Semitism was made intellectually respectable in the name of academic freedom.” Rackman’s strongest criticism was reserved for Stony Brook’s Jewish faculty, who had largely affirmed Dube’s freedom to teach critically. These colleagues, Rackman averred, were “act[ing] just as did the wealthy Jews of Germany when Hitler rose to power.” Ironically, a syllabus sentence that referenced the Nazis to question the trajectory of Zionism was publicly outrageous; an opinion article that referenced the same to question the morality of Stony Brook’s Jewish faculty was publicly acceptable.

During this time, letters started flooding President Marburger’s office from alumni claiming that they would withhold donations and warn Jewish students to avoid Stony Brook. State lawmakers threatened the university budget. The SUNY Board of Trustees chairman, Donald Blinken, issued a public statement “denouncing the comparison of Zionism and Nazism as a ‘reprehensible distortion of reality.’” In the face of a recognizable storm—donors, politicians, alumni—President Marburger acted. He issued a new statement officially “divorcing” the university from the views in Dr. Dube’s course and began attending public relations meetings with community members at local synagogues. His administration appointed a special Commission on Faculty Rights and Responsibilities to “review courses dealing with race and sex.” Later, the university sponsored a symposium on “Academic Freedom, Academic Responsibility and Society” featuring Rabbi Arthur Seltzer as one of the panelists. Marburger even promised to establish a new Stony Brook Regional Relations Advisory Council, a development that the ADL praised as an opportunity to “provide significant community input” into the university’s academic mission. In the 1983–84 academic year, Dube’s faculty peers offered affirmations of academic freedom, the program of Africana Studies held teach-ins, and there were passionate student marches and glowing interviews with students enrolled in his classes. However, from the first complaint against Dube through his tenure application, appeal, and eventual tenure denial and termination, Blinken and Chancellor Clifton Wharton would receive a steady stream of direct correspondence urging the university to deal with the problem of Fred Dube.

The threats facing Dube were not limited to his professional reputation or his department’s budget. In the same year, the Jewish Defense League, a radical organization that the Southern Poverty Law Center says “preaches a violent form of anti-Arab, Jewish nationalism” and its more militant wing, the Jewish Defense Organization (JDO), came onto the Stony Brook campus, organizing protests and putting up flyers about Dube. In November, Mordecai Levy of the JDO entered the offices of the Africana Studies department demanding that Dube either apologize or resign.

Before leaving campus, the JDO handed out leaflets bearing their symbol, a machine gun inside a star of David, accompanied by the text “Fire Dube or Else.” In the student newspaper, the Statesman, Levy promised that the pressure was only beginning. “We plan to make it as unhealthy as possible to be an anti-Semite. Dube’s phone number and address have been given out. We are going to drive him crazy,” he wrote. Several days later, a member of the JDO entered and attempted to disrupt an Africana Studies class. Then, alongside harassing phone calls and threats, Dube’s home in Uniondale was broken into and vandalized. Throughout this period, Fred Dube continued teaching, speaking, and building his profile; soon he would be up for tenure.

When SUNY Stony Brook Dean Robert Neville vetoed Dube’s tenure in 1985, he did so against the recommendation of the university’s faculty committees. Neville argued that his decision did not reflect acquiescence to the “outsiders who call me at home in the middle of the night to insist I fire him because he says the wrong things about Zionism.” Dube maintained that the administration had caved in to external pressures. Faculty reviewers of Dube’s tenure file noted that he hadn’t published as much as was expected at a research university, even as they recommended tenure. This “lack” of sufficient publications then became the Stony Brook administration’s public justification for his termination. When the campus supported Dube, noting that he was a beloved teacher who brought with him enormous political and cultural resources, the administrators could note that his publications were thin. When Dube appealed his case, the university administrators insisted that his publications were lacking. But to his students (who at one point formed a united front organization and collected over five hundred signatures to send to the Chancellor), Dube was irreplaceable.

If the Dean was still receiving phone harassment about Dube two years after the summer course, what might Dube and his family be facing? During this period his wife, Melta, lost her job and struggled to find another. They abruptly sent their youngest daughter to live with relatives in England. “They needed a scapegoat,” Dube told a crowd of hundreds at a 1985 Stony Brook rally. “I am refusing to be their sacrificial goat!” Still, political pariahdom comes with public and private consequences. The ransacked house, the abrupt move, the charity boxes of food—how do these settle into a family’s story? They can stretch it in unexpected ways: a recurring argument, another bottle of beer, a wrecked car. When the Jewish Defense League claimed responsibility for firebombing the Long Island home of an alleged Nazi war criminal in 1985, Dube and his family had seen enough. They moved out of Uniondale to New York City.


“We are going to drive him crazy,” the JDO promised.

In the 2014 essay “What This Poet’s Body Knows,” Kwame Dawes explores the politics of U.S. racism as a type of “cynical jujitsu,” where the accusation “racist!” becomes the epithet, not the word “n—”. This topsy-turvy weaponization of outrage, for Dawes, is linked to his body. The poet is a “black body exposed and vulnerable” even at the very moment he is said to be a threat, an attacker. The Palestine exception on U.S. campuses depends on a similar “cynical jujitsu”: the suffering of Palestinian bodies, and the harm meted out against those bodies who dare to see it and speak it, is automatically reframed as a threat. The “retort has become the obscenity, the act of violence, the attack.” From the 1980s until today, Fred Dube’s harrowing experience at Stony Brook is unaccounted for.

Twenty years before the Stony Brook summer course, Dube was inside a cell in the infamous Robben Island, caught in the apartheid South African government’s desire to incarcerate, impoverish, and kill Black South Africans’ fight for freedom and equality on their own soil. He spent four years in prison, then left the country as an exile to pursue higher education. Now, in the United States, living for the first time in a country where freedom of speech and academic freedom were valued, at least in name, Dube was “deprived of his job on the basis of the false accusation of anti-Semitism,” an Albany anti-apartheid group argued in 1987. The group, which usually uplifted the cause of freedom fighters in places like Pretoria or Namibia, directed its people to write the SUNY acting chancellor on Dube’s behalf.

This irony of again falling foul of the government, again becoming a political target, did not escape Dube, who remarked to his friends that life as a persona non grata in New York was worse than his situation as a political target in apartheid South Africa. At least in South Africa, he said, everyone understood the reality of life under a repressive government: you and your family didn’t suffer alone. In this peculiar U.S. political milieu, repressive forces used “bureaucracy rather than barbed wire” to bridle free speech, argued Amiri Baraka, then Dube’s colleague. Here there was no cadre with which to traverse this terrain of blacklisting and politicized targeting; his had been made to be an isolated case.

Dube’s political consciousness had been forged outside of the United States, in an entirely different setting. Since the 1960s, he had been part of the African National Congress (ANC), the vanguard political organization that presided over the end of South African apartheid just ten years after the syllabus uproar. Even from his place in exile in the United States, Dube’s scholarship and teaching were part of the struggle: he wanted people to understand that racism blighted both the oppressor and the oppressed.

In the Philosophical Forum, Dube wrote about the multidirectional violence of apartheid’s racism: “The Afrikaner child is in fact the victim, privileged as he may be in other respects, of systematic indoctrination; and the correlative inhibition of critical or independent thinking.” The scholar’s exploration was never solely theoretical. He referenced an unexpected friendship with a prison guard at Robben Island to demonstrate how apartheid psychologically limited white Afrikaners, turned them into cogs in a violent system. Understanding that racism harms both oppressed and oppressor, that these systems have two categories of victims, not just one, was foundational to the reconciliation at the end of South Africa’s apartheid system.

Dube’s challenging and humanizing revolutionary politics were also present in his 1983 SUNY course, The Politics of Race. In one class lecture, Dube discussed a concept he called “reactive racism,” which he defined as “racism that comes from people who are under oppression or were under oppression and use it in self-defense.” He was concerned with how oppressed peoples may come to embrace some of the violent and negative ideologies that they fought against. In his course, he offered two illustrations: the anti-white sentiments of some of his ANC cadre, and the unfolding history of political Zionism.

Both examples were deeply important to Dube. He had watched Israel’s relationship to the South African anti-apartheid struggle shapeshift in his lifetime. The radical core of the ANC’s activists and leaders included many Jewish South Africans, among them some staunch Zionists. Arthur Goldreich, a member of the Jewish Nationalist Movement and veteran of Israel’s war of independence, was also a member of Umkhonto we Sizwe, the armed wing of the ANC. He and Nelson Mandela studied together, drawing military lessons from Zionism, which some ANC members initially viewed as a national liberation movement.

In his work, Dube was concerned with how oppressed peoples may come to embrace some of the violent ideologies they fought against.

In the 1950s and early ‘60s, Israel occasionally criticized South Africa’s racist policies at the United Nations. Apartheid South Africa was quick to retort that this was rank hypocrisy. “They took Israel away from the Arabs after the Arabs lived there for a thousand years. . . . Israel, like South Africa, is an apartheid state,” insisted South African Prime Minister Hendrik Verwoerd. 1948 was both the year of Israel’s founding and the year when Verwoerd’s racist National Party entrenched apartheid as the policy of the South African state. With the occupation of Palestinian territories in 1967, Israel’s relationship to the anticolonial world shifted. The two countries—occupying Israel and apartheid South Africa—began to approach each other diplomatically. By 1976, the South African prime minister John Vorster, a former Nazi sympathizer, was invited for a state visit to Jerusalem. The National Party regime in Pretoria articulated its growing bond with Israel in this way: “Israel and South Africa have one thing above all else in common: they are both situated in a predominantly hostile world inhabited by dark peoples.”

In response to the emerging South Africa–Israel alliance, and amid much controversy, the United Nations passed Resolution 3379 in 1975, which “determined that Zionism is a form of racism and racial discrimination.” In the United States, elected officials like Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan denounced this resolution as an anti-Semitic Soviet ploy, insisting that the African countries in support were pawns of the USSR.

It was from this vantage point that Dube created a syllabus steeping undergraduates in the complex histories of the ANC, South African apartheid, the UN, and the politics of racism. In his 1983 summer course, Dube referenced UN Resolution 3379 and encouraged students to analyze its validity or invalidity. However, conservative forces on U.S. campuses brook no context or complexity where Israel is concerned.

Four decades after the political firestorm, the scars of Fred Dube’s experience are fresh and weeping. Donald Blinken, the SUNY Board of Trustees chairman who publicly condemned Fred Dube, has passed away. His son Antony, as the U.S. Secretary of State, circumvents Congress to rush weapons to Israel to continue a siege on Gaza that has slaughtered over ten thousand children in one hundred days and counting. Mario Cuomo, the governor who denouncedDube’s teaching and reviled UN Resolution 3379 as a lie “second only to the myths of Nazism,” is also gone. But his son, former governor Andrew Cuomo, calls for the National Guard to be deployed against protesters calling for ceasefire in Gaza. The Israeli-American historian who first accused Dube has lost beloved family members to the atrocities of the October 7 Hamas attack. The International Court of Justice recently held public hearings over ANC-led South Africa’s application accusing Israel of genocide in Gaza.


The question posed on Dube’s syllabus—about the relationship between Zionism and racism—remains as relevant as it was then, although in many places, it still cannot be explored without fear of reprisal. The UN resolution labeling Zionism a form of racism was revoked in 1991 in an effort to get Israel to participate in a peace process. In the United States today, college presidents have lost their jobs over accusations of tolerating anti-Semitism; student groups have been disbanded for daring to speak in support of Palestine; student protesters have been blacklisted from future jobs. In November, three Palestinian college students were shot in the streets of Vermont for wearing a keffiyeh, for speaking Arabic.

Forty years later, Zola Dube remembers losing her father to bitterness over the Stony Brook ordeal. Am I afraid, she asks me, to write about Fred Dube? The cycles continue: the impermissibility of critical dialogue about Israel-Palestine is a lesson that we—faculty, administrators, neighbors, citizens—all learn through experience. The time has come again for Dube’s humanizing analysis. What cannot be named cannot be healed. What we cannot speak of, we can never solve.

Abena Ampofoa Asare
 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:


Abena Asare is Associate Professor of Modern African Affairs at Stony Brook University. She is author of Truth Without Reconciliation: A Human Rights History of Ghana and When Will the Joy Come: Black Women in the Ivory Tower.


Outstanding Palestinian Artist Samia Halaby On The Heinous Cancellation Of Her American Retrospective Exhibit and the Open Censorship Of Her Work Over Her Support of Solidarity for Gaza

Palestinian Artist Samia Halaby Slams Indiana University for Canceling Exhibit over Her Support for Gaza


Democracy Now!

January 18, 2024

 
We spend the hour looking at how artists, writers and other cultural workers in the United States and Europe are facing a growing backlash after expressing solidarity for Palestine. We begin with one of these "canceled" cultural workers: renowned Palestinian American artist Samia Halaby, whose first U.S. retrospective was canceled by her graduate alma mater, Indiana University, after she criticized Israel's bombardment of Gaza. The school’s provost said this week the show would have been a "lightning rod" that carried a "risk of violence." Halaby expresses her shock and disappointment at the betrayal of "academic freedom" evidenced by the decision. "The administration has lost sight of their responsibility to the community, to the students that are there," she says, and adds, "This is much larger than I am," citing the suppression of pro-Palestine student activism around the country and calling it "a kind of attempt at mind control." 

Democracy Now! is an independent global news hour that airs on over 1,500 TV and radio stations Monday through Friday. Watch our livestream at democracynow.org Mondays to Fridays 8-9 a.m. ET.


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Monday, January 15, 2024

Brazen Political Censorship of Legendary Palestinian Artist by Indiana University Results in Cancellation Of Her First American Retrospective

Indiana University Cancels Major Exhibition of Palestinian Artist

Samia Halaby, an 87-year-old artist, has been outspoken in her support of Palestinians during the Israel-Gaza war.


PHOTO: “It is clearly my freedom of expression that is under question here,” said Samia Halaby, who earned her master’s degree at Indiana University. Credit: Shanti Knight


by Zachary Small
January 11, 2024
New York Times


The first American retrospective of Samia Halaby, regarded as one of the most important living Palestinian artists, was abruptly canceled by officials at Indiana University in recent weeks.

Dozens of her vibrant and abstract paintings were already at the school when Halaby, 87, said she received a call from the director of the university’s Eskenazi Museum of Art. The director informed her that employees had shared concern about her social media posts on the Israel-Gaza war, where she had expressed support for Palestinian causes and outrage at the violence in the Middle East, comparing the Israeli bombardment to a genocide.

Halaby later received a two-sentence note from the museum director, David Brenneman, officially canceling the show in Bloomington, Ind., without a clear explanation.

“I write to formally notify you that the Eskenazi Museum of Art will not host its planned exhibition of your work,” Brenneman wrote in the Dec. 20 letter, which was reviewed by The New York Times.

A few months earlier, Brenneman had applauded the artist’s “dynamic and innovative approach to art-making” in promotional materials, where he said the exhibition would demonstrate how universities “value artistic experimentation.”

The show’s cancellation is the latest example of the heavy scrutiny that artists and academics have faced since the war began in October. Magazine editors have been fired, artists have seen their work censored and university presidents have resigned under pressure.

“It is clearly my freedom of expression that is under question here,” said Halaby, who earned a master’s degree at Indiana University and later taught students there. She said concerns about her exhibition had been raised by a museum employee.

The retrospective, which was to open Feb. 10, had taken more than three years to organize in partnership with Michigan State University’s Broad Art Museum; agreements were already signed with grant-making foundations and museums that lent artworks to Indiana University from around the country. Halaby was also preparing to unveil a new digital artwork for the exhibition, in addition to previously unseen works like a 1989 painting called “Worldwide Intifadah.”


PHOTO: “Worldwide Intifadah (1989). Credit: Samia HalabySteven Bridges, director of the Broad Art Museum, said his institution was still planning to host the exhibition this year.


Steven Bridges, director of the Broad Art Museum, said his institution was still planning to host the exhibition this year.

A spokesman for Indiana University, Mark Bode, said in a statement on Wednesday that “academic leaders and campus officials canceled the exhibit due to concerns about guaranteeing the integrity of the exhibit for its duration.”

Black Solidarity with Gaza - #CeasefireNow: 2023/2024 + 2015 Black Solidarity Statement with Palestine

https://www.blackforpalestine.com/2023statement.html 

NEW UPDATE: As of today [January 15, 2024] over 23,000 Palestinians have died in Gaza as a result of Israeli military actions and over 10,000 of them have been children with over 36,000 injured overall 

*PLEASE NOTE:  The original statement below contains the statistics about deaths and casualties as of December 1, 2023. 

*We make this statement as Black people in solidarity with Palestinian people, committed to our collective liberation, in grief and in outrage at the catastrophic violence that the state of Israel is enacting on Gaza. As we write, Israel has killed more than 15,000 Palestinians in Gaza - including 6,000 children. Over 30,000 people are injured. 

​We are coming together to demand:
  • an immediate ceasefire 
  • the unimpeded entry of humanitarian aid and services, medical teams, supplies, and trauma care
  • the immediate restoration of water, food, fuel, electricity, and internet
  • ending the U.S. obstruction of Palestinian protections against genocide under international law 
  • the prevention of forced displacement of Palestinians in Gaza outside of Palestine 
  • an end to the siege on Gaza and the occupation of Palestine, including U.S. support

We refuse to remain silent or inactive as two million people in Gaza—half of whom are children—are fenced into an open-air prison, facing the bombs and barricades of the Israeli military. We condemn the displacement of over a million Gazans who have nowhere to run as their homes, shelters, evacuation routes, and border crossings are bombed. We cry out as Israel continues to target hospitals, mosques, churches, schools, bakeries, entire neighborhoods and entire families—the lifeblood and foundations of community. 

We name the murderous responsibility of the United States government in particular, which is supplying aircraft, weapons and diplomatic cover to Israel as its forces commit these atrocities. After the Israeli Minister of Defense called the Palestinians of Gaza “human animals” on October 9th and announced that they would be denied life necessities—the U.S. Secretaries of State and Defense, and President Biden himself went to Tel Aviv to only affirm their support of Israel’s genocidal actions. We are angered that the U.S. was the sole country to veto the UN Security Council resolution for a humanitarian ceasefire. 

All life is precious, we reject the targeting of civilians, and we mourn the loss of all civilian life. The Israeli government, its allies, and Western media have tried to isolate, demonize and dehumanize the people of Gaza to provide a false justification for Israel’s unjustifiable mass killing. Our solidarity is in defiance of those efforts and against the Israeli occupation of Palestine, which perpetuates a cycle of violence and death.
Israel is an occupying power engaged in countless violations of international law towards its occupied population. Our demands in solidarity with the Palestinian struggle for self-determination and freedom are for more than the basic necessities under war. We stand with the Palestinian people who have been struggling for their land, their homes, their families and their future for a century and who remain steadfast in the face of the ongoing catastrophes and atrocities committed against them. We honor the strength, the resilience, the commitment, the love, the memories, and the songs of our kin in liberation. 

We make this commitment in a long tradition of Black people standing with other peoples around the world in our shared struggle against oppression, racism, and colonialism. This includes calling for an end to U.S. aggression in the Vietnam war, standing with anti-colonial struggles around the world, and most recently with the Black uprising of 2014 and building solidarity with Palestinians over our shared terrain of U.S. and Israeli state violence and disregard for our lives.

We call on Black youth, elders, students, artists, workers, people of faith, activists, teachers and politicians to fearlessly mobilize and speak out for Palestinian freedom, to organize our communities and institutions to do the same. Our collective demands are stronger than any attempt to silence or attack us. We will meet those challenges together and united, we will overcome them.   

We stand in solidarity with Palestinians and we will stand here until Palestine is free.

For media inquiries, please email blackforpalestine@gmail.com, or call 607-252-6575
 

Black Solidarity with Gaza - #CeasefireNow

Sign the Statement:
 
 


Here is a list of some of our signatories:
  • adrienne maree brown - Writer, activist and facilitator; author of Emergent Strategy
  • aja monet - Surrealist blues poet; author of My Mother Was a Freedom Fighter
  • Ajamu Baraka - International human rights activist, organizer, political analyst.
  • Alan Pelaez Lopez - AfroIndigenous (Zapotec) poet, installation and adornment artist; author of Intergalactic Travels: poems from a fugitive alien 
  • Alexis Pauline Gumbs - Poet, independent scholar and human rights activist, author of Undrowned: Black Feminist Lessons from Marine Mammals
  • Andrea J. Ritchie - Organizer, Researcher, Author of Invisible No More: Police Violence Against Black women and Women of Color
  • Angela Y. Davis - Prison abolitionist, scholar and activist; author of Freedom Is a Constant Struggle: Ferguson, Palestine, and the Foundations of a Movement 
  • Angelica Ross - Actress in POSE and American Horror Story, Singer Songwriter, Founder of TransTech & Human Rights Advocate
  • Arsema Thomas - Actress in Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story
  • Ash-Lee Woodard Henderson - Co-Executive Director of the Highlander Center
  • Aurielle Marie - Award-winning poet, essayist, and cultural strategist
  • Barbara Ransby - Activist, Historian and author of Ella Baker and the Black Freedom Movement: A Radical Democratic Vision
  • Barbara Smith  - Black feminist, lesbian, activist, author, lecturer and publisher; co-founder of the Combahee River Collective and co-author of the Combahee River Collective Statement
  • Beverly Guy Sheftall - Black feminist scholar, writer and editor; founding director of the Women’s Research at Spelman College
  • Bill Fletcher Jr. - Racial justice, labor, and international activist
  • Bisi Adjapon - author of The Teller of Secrets and Daugher in Exile
  • Bree Newsome Bass - artist, grassroots organizer, removed south carolina’s confederate flag on june 27, 2015 
  • Brittney Cooper - professor, activist, and cultural critic; author of Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower 
  • Chanda Prescod-Weinstein - Associate Professor of Physics and author of The Disordered Cosmos: A Journey into Dark Matter, Spacetime, and Dreams Deferred
  • Charlene A. Carruthers - writer, filmmaker, community organizer; founding national director of Black Youth Project 100    
  • Christina Sharpe - Professor and author of In the Wake: On Blackness and Being
  • Cornel West - Philosopher, political activist, social critic, actor, and public intellectual
  • Dara Cooper - activist, organizer, writer, and co-founder and former executive director of the National Black Food and Justice Alliance
  • Derecka Purnell - human rights lawyer, writer, organizer, and author of Becoming Abolitionists: Police, Protests, and the Pursuit of Freedom
  • dream hampton - writer, organizer, award winning filmmaker 
  • Emory Douglas - Artist, Activist and Minister of Culture for the Black Panther Party
  • Enongo Lumumba-Kasongo aka SAMMUS  - Black feminist rapper, producer, and scholar
  • ericka huggins - educator, former Black Panther Party member, and political prisoner, human rights activist and poet.
  • Eve L. Ewing- writer, scholar, cultural organizer and author of Electric Arches
  • Feminista Jones - writer, public speaker, community activist, and retired social worker; author of Reclaiming Our Space: How Black Feminists Are Changing the World from the Tweets to the Streets
  • Fred Moten - Cultural theorist, poet, author of In the Break: The Aesthetics of the Black Radical Tradition
  • Gina Dent - Scholar, activist and co-author of Abolition. Feminism. Now with Angela Davis 
  • Ijeoma Oluo - Writer, speaker and author of the #1 New York Times bestseller So You Want to Talk About Race
  • Indya Moore - Actress in POSE, writer, director, model, and social activist
  • Jalil Muntaqim - political activist, veteran of the Black Panther Party and the Black Liberation Army, former political prisoner
  • Jamilah Lemieux  - award-winning writer, podcast host, and public speaker 
  • jessica Care moore - Poet, Live Arts Producer, Author, Recording Artist, Publisher
  • Johanna Fernandez - Historian, abolitionist and author of The Young Lords: A Radical History
  • Jourdain Searles - writer, critic, film programmer, and comedian
  • Kali Akuno - co-founder and co-director of Cooperation Jackson and co-editor of Jackson Rising: The Struggle for Economic Democracy and Black Self-Determination in Jackson, Mississippi
  • kehlani - Artist, singer and songwriter
  • Kemi Alabi - Poet and author of Against Heaven 
  • Kierstan Bell - Professional basketball player and 2-time WNBA champion
  • Kiese Laymon - writer, professor, author of Heavy and Long Division; 2022 MacArthur Fellow
  • Kimya Dawson - singer-songwriter
  • Lama Rod Owens  - activist, authorized Lama (Buddhist Teacher), and author of Love and Rage: The Path of Liberation Through Anger
  • LISBET TELLEFSEN  - archivist, collector and curator
  • Madison McFerrin - independent singer, songwriter and producer
  • Malkia Devich Cyril - activist, writer and public speaker
  • Marbrè Stahly- Butts - former Executive Director of Law for Black Lives and co-founder of the National Bail Out Collective
  • Marc Lamont Hill - award-winning journalist, professor, and media host; co-author of Except for Palestine: The Limits of Progressive Politics
  • Mariame Kaba - organizer, educator, archivist and curator; author of We Do This 'Til We Free Us Abolitionist Organizing and Transforming Justice
  • Mary Hooks - LGBTQ+ activist, former co-director of Southerners on New Ground
  • MaryLouise Patterson - Human rights activist, co-editor of Letters from Langston From the Harlem Renaissance to the Red Scare and Beyond
  • Mereba - singer, rapper and producer
  • Michael Bennett - retired NFL player and Super Bowl champion
  • Montague Simmons  - community organizer and human rights activist; former chair of the Organization for Black Struggle
  • Mumia Abu-Jamal - political prisoner, award-winning radio journalist, and author of seven books
  • Mustafa the poet - poet, singer, songwriter, and filmmaker
  • Mykki Blanco - rapper, performance artist, poet and activist. 
  • Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah - New York Times-bestselling author of Friday Black
  • Noname - rapper, poet, producer and founder of Noname Book Club
  • nyle fort - minister, activist, and scholar
  • Patrisse Cullors - artist, abolitionist, writer, and co-founder of the Black Lives Matter organization. 
  • Rahiel Tesfamariam - writer, public theologian, activist and speaker
  • Ramona Africa - activist, sole adult survivor of the Philadelphia Police 1985 bombing of the MOVE headquarters
  • Raquel Willis - award-winning activist, author, and media strategist dedicated to Black transgender liberation. 
  • Robin D. G. Kelley - historian, academic, and author of Freedom Dreams: The Black Radical Imagination
  • Robyn C. Spencer-Antoine - historian of Black radicalism, activist, author of The Revolution has Come: Black Power, Gender and the Black Panther Party
  • Rosemari Mealy JD, PhD - activist-scholar and author of Fidel and Malcolm X: Memories of A Meeting
  • Saul Williams - rapper, singer, songwriter, musician, poet, writer, and actor
  • Sekou Odinga  - member of Malcolm X’s Organization of Afro-American Unity; a founding member of the New York chapter of the Black Panther Party as well as the Black Panther International Section; combatant of the Black Liberation Army; and former political prisoner
  • Sonya Renee Taylor - activist, artist, and New York Times best-selling author of The Body Is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self Love
  • Toshi Reagon - composer, musician, with a profound ear for sonic Americana—from folk to funk, from blues to rock
  • Vince Warren - Executive Director of the Center for Constitutional Rights
  • Warsan Shire - award winning poet and author of Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head

 
Black4Palestine is an emerging national network of Black activists committed to supporting the Palestinian struggle for freedom, justice, peace and self-determination. We seek to integrate our work around Palestine into the global and domestic struggles for Black liberation and human emancipation.

We advocate full sovereignty and rights for the Palestinian people and fully endorse the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions movement. We seek to engage the margins of Palestinian society - including refugees in the Middle East, the prisoners’ movement, people in Gaza, and youth across the diaspora. Providing practical support towards the right of return is one of our priorities.

We oppose racism, capitalism, colonialism, imperialism, sexism, zionism, and all forms of oppression. We organize through an intersectional approach that values the struggles of women, LGBTQ, and indigenous people around the world.

We have members across the country who are part of a variety of Black organizations. We are an intergenerational group that includes artists, academics, full time activists, and students.

Our local and international work is grounded in meeting the people where they are, in refugee camps or in their homeland.
Many of us have traveled to Palestine and are willing to speak about our experiences. We can also talk at public or private meetings from the following perspectives alongside our counterparts in Palestine:

Art and film, the Black church and religion, the civil rights movement, Movement for Black Lives, Black Panther Party, New Afrikan Independence  Movement, policing, mass incarceration, political prisoners, public education, Cuban solidarity, Puerto Rican liberation, Pan Africanism, Jews of Color, and much more.

Black4Palestine emerged in 2014 cultivated from the cross-movement solidarity between Palestinian activists and participants in the Ferguson uprisings.

Please email us if you would like to be in touch with a member in your area or working on a certain issue. 

We are not able to accept new national members at this time, but please reach out if you are interested in doing B4P work in your own city.

https://www.blackforpalestine.com/2015-statement.html

2015 Black Solidarity Statement with Palestine


(عربي)
Click above to read the statement in Arabic 
Download a PDF of the English version

The past year has been one of high-profile growth for Black-Palestinian solidarity. Out of the terror directed against us—from numerous attacks on Black life to Israel’s brutal war on Gaza and chokehold on the West Bank—strengthened resilience and joint-struggle have emerged between our movements. Palestinians on Twitter were among the first to provide international support for protesters in Ferguson, where St. Louis-based Palestinians gave support on the ground. Last November, a delegation of Palestinian students visited Black organizers in St. Louis, Atlanta, Detroit and more, just months before the Dream Defenders took representatives of Black Lives Matter, Ferguson, and other racial justice groups to Palestine. Throughout the year, Palestinians sent multiple letters of solidarity to us throughout protests in Ferguson, New York, and Baltimore. We offer this statement to continue the conversation between our movements:

On the anniversary of last summer’s Gaza massacre, in the 48th year of Israeli occupation, the 67th year of Palestinians’ ongoing Nakba (the Arabic word for Israel's ethnic cleansing)--and in the fourth century of Black oppression in the present-day United States--we, the undersigned Black activists, artists, scholars, writers, and political prisoners offer this letter of reaffirmed solidarity with the Palestinian struggle and commitment to the liberation of Palestine’s land and people.

We can neither forgive nor forget last summer’s violence. We remain outraged at the brutality Israel unleashed on Gaza through its siege by land, sea and air, and three military offensives in six years. We remain sickened by Israel’s targeting of homes, schools, UN shelters, mosques, ambulances, and hospitals. We remain heartbroken and repulsed by the number of children Israel killed in an operation it called “defensive.” We reject Israel’s framing of itself as a victim. Anyone who takes an honest look at the destruction to life and property in Gaza can see Israel committed a one-sided slaughter. With 100,000 people still homeless in Gaza, the massacre's effects continue to devastate Gaza today and will for years to come.

Israel’s injustice and cruelty toward Palestinians is not limited to Gaza and its problem is not with any particular Palestinian party. The oppression of Palestinians extends throughout the occupied territories, within Israel’s 1948 borders, and into neighboring countries. The Israeli Occupation Forces continue to kill protesters—including children—conduct night raids on civilians, hold hundreds of people under indefinite detention, and demolish homes while expanding illegal Jewish-only settlements. Israeli politicians, including Benjamin Netanyahu, incite against Palestinian citizens within Israel’s recognized borders, where over 50 laws discriminate against non-Jewish people.

Our support extends to those living under occupation and siege, Palestinian citizens of Israel, and the 7 million Palestinian refugees exiled in Jordan, Lebanon, Syria and Palestine. The refugees’ right to return to their homeland in present-day Israel is the most important aspect of justice for Palestinians.

Palestinian liberation represents an inherent threat to Israeli settler colonialism and apartheid, an apparatus built and sustained on ethnic cleansing, land theft, and the denial of Palestinian humanity and sovereignty. While we acknowledge that the apartheid configuration in Israel/Palestine is unique from the United States (and South Africa), we continue to see connections between the situation of Palestinians and Black people.

Israel’s widespread use of detention and imprisonment against Palestinians evokes the mass incarceration of Black people in the US, including the political imprisonment of our own revolutionaries. Soldiers, police, and courts justify lethal force against us and our children who pose no imminent threat. And while the US and Israel would continue to oppress us without collaborating with each other, we have witnessed police and soldiers from the two countries train side-by-side.

US and Israeli officials and media criminalize our existence, portray violence against us as “isolated incidents,” and call our resistance “illegitimate” or “terrorism.” These narratives ignore decades and centuries of anti-Palestinian and anti-Black violence that have always been at the core of Israel and the US. We recognize the racism that characterizes Israel’s treatment of Palestinians is also directed against others in the region, including intolerance, police brutality, and violence against Israel’s African population. Israeli officials call asylum seekers from Sudan and Eritrea "infiltrators" and detain them in the desert, while the state has sterilized Ethiopian Israelis without their knowledge or consent. These issues call for unified action against anti-Blackness, white supremacy, and Zionism.

We know Israel’s violence toward Palestinians would be impossible without the US defending Israel on the world stage and funding its violence with over $3 billion annually. We call on the US government to end economic and diplomatic aid to Israel. We wholeheartedly endorse Palestinian civil society’s 2005 call for Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) against Israel and call on Black and US institutions and organizations to do the same. We urge people of conscience to recognize the struggle for Palestinian liberation as a key matter of our time.

As the BDS movement grows, we offer G4S, the world’s largest private security company, as a target for further joint struggle. G4S harms thousands of Palestinian political prisoners illegally held in Israel and hundreds of Black and brown youth held in its privatized juvenile prisons in the US. The corporation profits from incarceration and deportation from the US and Palestine, to the UK, South Africa, and Australia. We reject notions of “security” that make any of our groups unsafe and insist no one is free until all of us are.

We offer this statement first and foremost to Palestinians, whose suffering does not go unnoticed and whose resistance and resilience under racism and colonialism inspires us. It is to Palestinians, as well as the Israeli and US governments, that we declare our commitment to working through cultural, economic, and political means to ensure Palestinian liberation at the same time as we work towards our own. We encourage activists to use this statement to advance solidarity with Palestine and we also pressure our own Black political figures to finally take action on this issue. As we continue these transnational conversations and interactions, we aim to sharpen our practice of joint struggle against capitalism, colonialism, imperialism, and the various racisms embedded in and around our societies.

Towards liberation,