

SUBSCRIBE TO OUR FREE NEWSLETTER
Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
5
#000000
#FFFFFF
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.


Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
"Targeting an entire family in this savage manner reveals the true nature of the Israeli occupation and its policies based on killing and extermination, destruction and displacement," the Palestinian Ministry of Foreign Affairs said.
The Israeli Defense Forces killed a Palestinian couple and two of their children in the West Bank on Sunday, on one of the deadliest days for Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank in weeks.
The soldiers opened fire on a car in the village of Tammun in which 37-year-old Ali Khaled Bani Odeh, his 35-year-old wife Waad, and their four sons Mohammad, Othman, Mustafa, and Khaled were traveling. Odeh, Waad, 5-year-old Mohammad, and 7-year-old Othman were shot in the head and died, leaving behind two injured children.
"We came under direct fire, we didn't know the source. Everyone in the car was martyred, except my brother Mustafa and me," one of the surviving children, 12-year-old Khaled, told Reuters from the hospital.
He said that after the shooting was over, the Israeli soldiers pulled him out of the car and began to beat him, telling him, "We killed dogs."
"These crimes occur within a systematic policy pursued by the occupation authorities using lethal force against Palestinian civilians."
The soldiers also beat his other surviving brother, according to Al Jazeera.
The Israeli military said that it had been operating in Tammun to make arrests on "terrorist" charges and that soldiers had fired on a vehicle when it accelerated toward them, according to Reuters. It said it was reviewing the incident.
Al Jazeera journalist Nida Ibrahim said that the family had been totally shocked by the shooting.
“The extended family says the father and the mother did not know that Israeli forces were there as they were in a Palestinian car,” she said.
The Palestinian Ministry of Foreign Affairs condemned the killing on social media as a "terrifying arbitrary execution crime that targeted an entire Palestinian family inside their vehicle."
The Israeli soldiers also prevented Red Crescent workers from reaching the family, the ministry said, leading to the families' "deliberate and cold-blooded execution."
The ministry continued: "The Ministry affirms that targeting an entire family in this savage manner reveals the true nature of the Israeli occupation and its policies based on killing and extermination, destruction and displacement, amid a systematic impunity, and it further affirms that these crimes, concurrent with the escalation of settler crimes and their organized terrorism in the occupied West Bank, are not isolated incidents, but part of a comprehensive and systematic aggression aimed at exterminating the Palestinian people and displacing them, in clear exploitation of the escalation occurring in the region."
In a statement issued on social media, the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights (PCHR) also blamed the deaths on the Israeli occupation of the West Bank, which has been deemed illegal by the International Court of Justice.
"This escalation in these crimes comes as a direct result of the expansion of shooting instructions in the Israeli army, the rising violence of settlers amid the prevalence of an impunity policy, and the entrenchment of ethnic cleansing amid unprecedented international silence," PCHR said.
It continued: "While the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights condemns the unjustified murder crimes committed by occupation forces and settlers, it affirms that these crimes occur within a systematic policy pursued by the occupation authorities using lethal force against Palestinian civilians, in flagrant violation of the principles of necessity and distinction that form fundamental pillars of international humanitarian law and international human rights law. Moreover, they come as part of a pattern aimed at terrorizing citizens, intimidating them, and entrenching ethnic cleansing policies, and replicating acts of genocide, albeit in a less overt manner."
Also on Sunday, Israeli settlers killed a Palestinian man in Nablus Governorate, making him the sixth man killed by settlers since the US and Israel launched their war on Iran. Movement restrictions imposed due the war have emboldened setters to attack, knowing that ambulances will be delayed in reaching their victims, human rights advocates and healthcare workers told Reuters.
In total, Israeli settlers and soldiers have killed 25 Palestinians in the West Bank since the beginning of the year, PCHR said.
In Gaza, where Israeli strikes at first declined following the beginning of the Iran war, the death toll is rising again. On Sunday, Israeli strikes killed nine police officers in Zawayda and a pregnant woman, her husband, and son in Nuseirat.
If true justice prevails in Palestine, it will inevitably prevail in Lebanon, in Syria, and beyond. The exhausted branding of the Middle East as a "war-torn region" will finally vanish.
Let us imagine a liberated Palestine. Let us consider how justice for the Palestinian people would reshape not only the region but, indeed, the entire globe.
This is not a conversation about a "political solution" in the narrow, bureaucratic sense. Such solutions require no particular genius: True justice can only occur when the Palestinian people are granted the totality of their rights and the fulfillment of their political aspirations.
Equally true is the reality that no such justice can manifest so long as Israel remains committed to its current Zionist ideology—a framework predicated on racial supremacy and the systematic eradication of the Indigenous Palestinian Arab population. Once the shackles of this ideology are broken, the exact political mechanics become secondary; history suggests that the future would lean toward a shared coexistence rather than a continuation of the current segregation along ethnic lines.
To some, discussing a liberated Palestine now may appear slightly—though not entirely—removed from the current war ravaging the region. It is a war that, if not permanently halted, will continue to devastate the peoples of the Middle East, inviting further militarization, runaway defense spending, and cycles of violence. On the contrary, this is the most critical discussion we can have today.
A just peace will invite more than just the absence of war; it will invite opportunity, reconstruction, a collective regional rise, and—most importantly—the restoration of hope.
In his seminal documentary, the late Australian journalist and filmmaker John Pilger summed up the centrality of Palestine to the Middle East in these prescient words:
A historic injustice has been done to the Palestinian people, and until Israel’s illegal and brutal occupation ends, there will be no peace for anyone—Israelis included.
These are not mere words of posturing; they are an undeniable historical truth. Palestine has remained the beating heart of every Middle Eastern war and every persisting conflict. For Israel, the occupation has served as the linchpin for its military incursions across borders. For Palestine’s neighbors and allies, it remains the unhealed wound of a region historically unified by political, cultural, linguistic, and religious continuity.
Even during periods when Palestine was seemingly relegated to the periphery of regional diplomacy, Israel was keen to remind its neighbors that its designs were never limited to the Palestinians alone. Whether in historic Palestine or the Shatat (Diaspora), the Zionist project has always signaled broader ambitions.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has explicitly confirmed this expansionist intent, recently declaring that he is on a “historic and spiritual mission” to realize the vision of a “Greater Israel.” By openly connecting with a map that swallows Palestinian land and threatens the sovereignty of neighboring Arab states, he has made it clear that the erasure of Palestine is merely the first step in a much larger colonial design.
The current war confirms this centrality. Its origins, the ensuing political discourse, and the clashing visions of a "post-war" reality all pull Palestine back to the center of the global stage. To discuss Palestine as if it were an isolated issue—as some unfortunately do—is a profound historical mistake. Conversely, to discuss the future of the Middle East without centering Palestine is equally delusional.
Therefore, we must insist on the Palestinian discussion now more than ever. Once a just outcome to the Palestinian struggle is achieved, the positive shock waves will transform the region. Only then can we move from a state of perpetual warfare to a future rooted in genuine, collective liberation.
That said, do not expect a list of dry political recipes to follow. We already know, instinctively, what justice for Palestinians looks like. The freedom to live, to be treated with equality, to enjoy sovereignty, and to demand accountability and respect—these do not require exhaustive citations of international legal or humanitarian law. These are natural rights; they flow through us, individually and collectively, as surely as the blood in our veins.
The fact that Israel and its enablers refuse to respect international law, or to adhere to any common humanitarian principle, is no fault of the Palestinians or the other victims of Israeli aggression. The moral and legal burden must be shouldered entirely by those who have abused, disregarded, and dismantled the international legal order for far too long.
Today, the Palestinians—much like the people of Lebanon, Syria, and other nations across the region—are doing exactly what every oppressed nation must do: They are remaining steadfast. This Sumud is the key, now more than ever before. The ultimate outcome of this conflict will not be determined by lopsided death tolls or the sheer scale of structural destruction, but by the unyielding resilience of the people. History is a patient teacher; it tells us that if the rightful owners of the land hold their ground, they will eventually win.
Richard Falk, the former United Nations Special Rapporteur on Palestinian Human Rights and a prominent legal scholar, refers to this phenomenon as winning the "War of Legitimacy." It is a war fought not with fighter jets, but with the moral clarity of those who refuse to disappear.
If true justice prevails in Palestine, it will inevitably prevail in Lebanon, in Syria, and beyond. The exhausted branding of the Middle East as a "war-torn region" will finally vanish. A just peace will invite more than just the absence of war; it will invite opportunity, reconstruction, a collective regional rise, and—most importantly—the restoration of hope.
This is not a desperate wish whispered in a time of darkness. It is the only way out.
What happened to Nasrallah was not unusual; in fact, it was entirely predictable. It reflects a pattern Palestinians living in the occupied West Bank have been forced to live with for decades.
I’ve grown accustomed to the violence in Palestine; to seeing my brothers and sisters stripped from their homes and taken away from life itself. That violence has always felt close. And yet, with Nasrallah Abu Siyam, it became unmistakable.
Not only was he my age, he was born just miles from my hometown. An American citizen. Living an ordinary life. Dreaming of ordinary things. And still, he was shot and killed by Israeli settlers, simply for helping guard his fam ily’s livestock in the occupied West Bank.
In nearly every way, his life mirrored mine. The only difference was where he stood. And that difference, it seems, was enough.
What happened to Nasrallah was not unusual; in fact, it was entirely predictable. It reflects a pattern Palestinians living in the occupied West Bank have been forced to live with for decades—one in which violence is routine, accountability is absent, and loss is absorbed without consequence.
Nasrallah Abu Siyam lived an ordinary life. He should have been afforded the ordinary right to keep it.
That pattern is clearest in how these moments of violence unfold. In Mukhmas, the village where Nasrallah was killed, a resident described what happened plainly:
“When the settlers saw the army, they were encouraged and started shooting live bullets.”
In other words, the presence of the occupying forces did not interrupt the violence; it emboldened it. This is a reality Palestinians have long understood— that the forces ostensibly tasked with “maintaining order” often function instead as a mechanism for enabling and inflicting violence.
Time and time again, Palestinians are left to bury the result.The scale of that violence is not abstract, nor is it disputed.
Between October 2023 and October 2025 alone, more than 1,100 Palestinians were killed in the occupied West Bank by Israeli forces and settlers—229 of them children. That means more than 1 in 5 of those killed were children. In that same span of time, over 10,900 Palestinians were wounded and nearly 21,000 were detained.
And yet, none of this devastation takes place on a battlefield. There is no armed group to point to, no battle to cite. What remains is an occupied territory where civilian death, injury, and detention occur as a matter of policy and practice—not as rare or exceptional events.
By this point, it may sound like a broken record—not just from me, but from years of warnings repeating what the international community has recorded and then promptly ignored. But repetition becomes inevitable when impunity is preserved at every level.
Impunity—that, I must say—does not exist in a vacuum. It is sustained through material support, political protection, and deliberate silence. All of which the United States is deeply embedded in: in the weapons supplied, in the cover extended, and in what goes unsaid. When Americans like Nasrallah Abu Siyam—at least six of them in the past two years—are killed under an occupation supported by US authority, and little is said and less is done, that silence becomes a statement in itself.
Put simply, it is a statement of how Palestinian life—American or not—is weighed, and how little that weight has meant in the political world.
No power should have the authority to dictate which lives are expendable—and which are not. Nasrallah Abu Siyam lived an ordinary life. He should have been afforded the ordinary right to keep it. But again, that failure is not abstract. It has a name, a place, and a date.
This piece was originally published on Substack.