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Al-Jazeera says 4 journalists killed in Israeli strike in Gaza

Al-Jazeera says 4 journalists killed in Israeli strike in Gaza

NZ Herald7 days ago
Al Jazeera said two of its correspondents and two cameramen were killed in an Israeli strike on their tent in Gaza City on Sunday, citing the director of a local hospital.
'Al Jazeera journalist Anas al-Sharif has been killed alongside three colleagues in what appears to be a targeted Israeli
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The Arab, The Left And Those Who Remained Silent: History Will Not Forgive You
The Arab, The Left And Those Who Remained Silent: History Will Not Forgive You

Scoop

time2 days ago

  • Scoop

The Arab, The Left And Those Who Remained Silent: History Will Not Forgive You

The consequences of the Israeli genocide in Gaza will be dire. An event of this degree of barbarity, sustained by an international conspiracy of moral inertia and silence, will not be relegated to history as just another "conflict" or a mere tragedy. The Gaza genocide is a catalyst for major events to come. Israel and its benefactors are acutely aware of this historical reality. This is precisely why Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is in a race against time, desperately trying to ensure his country remains relevant, if not standing, in the coming era. He pursues this through territorial expansion in Syria, relentless aggression against Lebanon, and, of course, the desire to annex all occupied Palestinian territories. But history cannot be controlled with such precision. However clever he may think he is, Netanyahu has already lost the ability to influence the outcome. He has been unable to set a clear agenda in Gaza, let alone achieve any strategic goals in a 365-square-kilometer expanse of destroyed concrete and ashes. Gazans have proven that collective sumud can defeat one of the most well-equipped modern armies. Indeed, history itself has taught us that changes of great magnitude are inevitable. The true heartbreak is that this change is not happening fast enough to save a starving population, and the growing pro-Palestinian sentiment is not expanding at the rate needed to achieve a decisive political outcome. Our confidence in this inevitable change is rooted in history. World War I was not just a "Great War" but a cataclysmic event that fully shattered the geopolitical order of its time. Four empires were fundamentally reshuffled; some, like the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman, were erased from existence. The new world order resulting from World War I was short-lived. The modern international system we have today is a direct outcome of World War II. This includes the United Nations and all the new Western-centric economic, legal, and political institutions that were forged by the Bretton Woods Agreement in 1944. This includes the World Bank, the IMF, and ultimately NATO, thus sowing the seeds of yet more global conflicts. The fall of the Berlin Wall was heralded as the singular, defining event that resolved the lingering conflicts of the post-WWII geopolitical struggle, supposedly ushering in a new, permanent global realignment, or, to some, the "end of history." History, however, had other plans. Not even the horrific September 11 attacks and the subsequent US-led wars could reinvent the global order in a way that was consistent with US-Western interests and priorities. Gaza is infinitely small when judged by its geography, economic worth, or political import. Yet, it has proven to be the most significant global event defining this generation's political consciousness. The fact that the self-proclaimed guardians of the post-WWII order are the very entities that are violently and brazenly violating every international and humanitarian law is enough to fundamentally alter our relationship with the West's championed "rule-based order." This may not seem significant now, but it will have profound, long-term consequences. It has largely compromised and, in fact, delegitimized the moral authority imposed, often by violence, by the West over the rest of the world for decades, especially in the Global South. This self-imposed delegitimization will also impact the very idea of democracy, which has been under siege in many countries, including Western democracies. This is only natural, considering that most of the planet feels strongly that Israel must end its genocide and that its leaders must be held accountable. Yet, little to no action follows. The shift in Western public opinion in favor of Palestinians is astounding when considered against the backdrop of total Western media dehumanization of the Palestinian people and Western governments' blind allegiance to Israel. More shocking is that this shift is largely the result of the work of ordinary people on social media, activists mobilizing in the streets, and independent journalists, mostly in Gaza, working under extreme duress and with minimal resources. A central conclusion is the failure of Arab and Muslim nations to factor into this tragedy befalling their own brethren in Palestine. While some are engaged in empty rhetoric or self-flagellation, others subsist in a state of inertia, as if the genocide in Gaza were a foreign topic, like the wars in Ukraine or Congo. This fact alone shall challenge our very collective self-definition—what it means to be an Arab or a Muslim, and whether such definitions carry supra-political identities. Time will tell. The left, too, is problematic in its own way. While not a monolith, and while many on the left have championed the global protests against the genocide, others remain splintered and unable to form a unified front, even temporarily. Some leftists are still chasing their own tales, crippled by the worry that being anti-Zionist would earn them the label of antisemitism. For this group, self-policing and self-censorship are preventing them from taking decisive action. History does not take its cues from Israel or Western powers. Gaza will indeed result in the kind of global shifts that will affect us all, far beyond the Middle East. For now, however, it is most urgent that we use our collective will and action to influence one single historical event: ending the genocide and the famine in Gaza. The rest will be left to history, and to those who wish to be relevant when the world changes again. - Dr. Ramzy Baroud is a journalist, author and the Editor of The Palestine Chronicle. He is the author of six books. His forthcoming book, ' Before the Flood,' will be published by Seven Stories Press. His other books include 'Our Vision for Liberation', 'My Father was a Freedom Fighter' and 'The Last Earth'. Baroud is a Non-resident Senior Research Fellow at the Center for Islam and Global Affairs (CIGA). His website is

Israel looking to re-settle Gazans in South Sudan
Israel looking to re-settle Gazans in South Sudan

Otago Daily Times

time2 days ago

  • Otago Daily Times

Israel looking to re-settle Gazans in South Sudan

South Sudan and Israel are discussing a deal to resettle Palestinians from war-torn Gaza in the troubled African nation, three sources told Reuters - a plan quickly dismissed as unacceptable by Palestinian leaders. The sources, who have knowledge of the matter but spoke on condition of anonymity, said no agreement had been reached but talks between South Sudan and Israel were ongoing. The plan, if carried further, would envisage people moving from an enclave shattered by almost two years of war with Israel to a nation in the heart of Africa riven by years of political and ethnically-driven violence. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's office and Israel's foreign ministry did not immediately respond to a request for comment on the information from the three sources. A spokesperson for the U.S. State Department said, "we do not speak to private diplomatic conversations," when asked about the plan and if the United States supported the idea. Netanyahu said this month he intends to extend military control in Gaza, and this week repeated suggestions that Palestinians should leave the territory voluntarily. Arab and world leaders have rejected the idea of moving Gaza's population to any country. Palestinians say that would be like another "Nakba" (catastrophe) when hundreds of thousands fled or were forced out during the Arab-Israeli war of 1948. The three sources said the prospect of resettling Palestinians in South Sudan was raised during meetings between Israeli officials and South Sudanese Foreign Minister Monday Semaya Kumba when he visited the country last month. Their account appeared to contradict South Sudan's foreign ministry which on Wednesday dismissed earlier reports on the plan as "baseless". The ministry was not immediately available to respond to the sources' assertions on Friday. News of the discussions was first reported by the Associated Press on Tuesday, citing six people with knowledge of the matter. Wasel Abu Youssef, a member of the Executive Committee of the Palestine Liberation Organization, said the Palestinian leadership and people "reject any plan or idea to displace any of our people to South Sudan or to any other place". His statement echoed a statement from the office of Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas on Thursday. Hamas, which is fighting Israel in Gaza, did not immediately respond to requests for comment. Israeli Deputy Foreign Minister Sharren Haskel, who visited the South Sudanese capital Juba this week, told reporters that those discussions had not focussed on relocation. "This is not what the discussions were about," she said when asked if any such plan had been discussed. "The discussions were about foreign policy, about multilateral organisations, about the humanitarian crisis, the real humanitarian crisis happening in South Sudan, and about the war," she said, referring to her talks with Juba officials. Netanyahu, who met Kumba last month, has said Israel is in touch with a few countries to find a destination for Palestinians who want to leave Gaza. He has consistently declined to provide further details.

Life as a Māori librarian in Trump's America
Life as a Māori librarian in Trump's America

The Spinoff

time2 days ago

  • The Spinoff

Life as a Māori librarian in Trump's America

Poet and librarian, Nicola Andrews (Ngāti Paoa, Pākehā), unfurls her life as an open education librarian at the University of San Francisco in the age of president Trump. I work as the open education librarian at the University of San Francisco (USF), on unceded Ramaytush Ohlone territory. USF is a private, Jesuit, R2 (high research activity) university, situated in one of the most expensive cities in the United States. It was recently ranked as the number one most ethnically diverse campus in the country, and officially designated as an Asian American and Native American Pacific Islander Serving Institution (AANAPISI); making our campus eligible for grant funding to support Asian American and Pacific Island students. We have just under 10,000 students, and most require financial aid to attend the university. Class sizes are small – usually around 20 students in a class section, which means we get to know our students pretty well. It's a unique campus, and I've worked here just over five years. It's summer over here, and we have just had our commencement ceremonies and graduation celebrations. Students are drawn to USF for its social justice focus, and they embody its value of 'cura personalis', as well as its tagline, 'change the world from here'. During the closing remarks of the ceremony, a small group of students chanted in protest, pleading with the university to divest from investments in military contracts. Last year, students declared a 'People's University' in support of Gaza, peacefully occupying campus for a month with an encampment of up to a hundred tents. I am proud of our students who stand up against violence and genocide, and who think of others even during their own final exams and end-of-semester preparations. In response to increasing demands from students, USF recently announced it would divest from four companies with ties to the Israeli military. My favourite part of graduation is the Indigenous Peoples of Oceania Commencement Ceremony, which began when Pasifika students on campus advocated for their own ceremony. I've helped organise the event for the last several years, and this year we have seven graduates – as the whakataukī goes, 'ahakoa he iti, he pounamu'. Unlike the mainstream graduation, we are in a small conference space instead of a huge cathedral. We decorate the space with flowers, and flags of Pacific nations. In addition to a unique graduation stole, we also gift students a lei made of purple orchids. It is a beautiful ceremony and everyone gets a bit misty-eyed. Tkaronto During summer, I get a break from teaching, and our reference desk hours are reduced. As a tenured faculty member, my role includes conducting and presenting research, and providing service to the profession, so I get to focus on these parts of my job a bit more. First off, I head to Tkaronto (Toronto) for the International Indigenous Librarians Forum (IILF), a convening of delegates including Aboriginal, First Nations, Kanaka Maoli, Māori, Native American, Sámi and Torres Strait Islander peoples. Our Anishnabeg and Haudenosaunee hosts do a wonderful job, including hosting us at the Ma Moosh Ka Win Valley Trail for the traditional Day on the Land. The conference offers free registration for First Nations, Métis or Inuit students; but in general I wish there were more people who had this opportunity as students or early-career professionals. My colleagues Neil, Steve and I present on our work as Pasifika in the diaspora – how we get compressed into and diluted by Asian American Pacific Islander spaces; the need for nuance and representation for Melanesian, Micronesian and Polynesian literatures; how there are so many other communities that also need uplifting within libraries. We have a good turnout, and we receive a tentative invitation to present for a university later in the year. I hope we can build more conversation – and really confront the decisions we grapple with as diaspora or migrants living outside of our islands. I'm excited to attend the conference with my Te Rōpū Whakahau colleagues, but I'm always a bit shy and standoffish, too. At the last conference I silently streamed with tears as a University of Auckland team presented on allowing their Māori library staff time to study te reo, and organised visits to staff members' marae. Academia can be a really cold institution to operate in, and I know there's a lot I continue to miss out on over here. On the final day of the conference, we discuss ideas for the next host nation. Someone suggests our Native American relatives host, and immediately many delegates declare that they refuse to cross into the United States border, 'for at least the next four years'. I flinch, noting the multitude of other delegates who braved crossing that border to gather here, and my own discomfort as a green card holder who is regularly pulled aside by customs. Someone helpfully suggests Hawai'i as an alternative location to the United States, and there are facepalms all around. My own suggestion to bring the conference back home is swiftly vetoed. Eventually, we reach a tentative decision, and the forum concludes. The next day is National Indigenous Peoples Day, and many delegates celebrate at the Na-Me-Res Pow Wow downtown. I'm flying back to San Francisco today, so I spend the morning doing some light digital spring-cleaning – scrubbing a couple of spicy activist posts, deleting social media from my phone, making sure my papers are secure, yet easily reached. After clearing security, I spot an empty queue for 'Mobile Passport Control'. In the time it takes to move forward three spots, I download the app, scan my ID, take a selfie, and am prompted to 'go to Mobile Passport Control'. The border agent is polite – taking my photo and asking the purpose of my trip. He doesn't hesitate to let me cross – and I chuckle as I walk away, having noted his full tattoo sleeves on display while I had deliberately covered mine up. San Francisco A few days later, I walk through San Francisco's Panhandle on my way to a coffee shop to chat with Ruby Leonard, who is over here on holiday. Ruby works in publishing with Te Papa Press, and was also the typesetter for my new book with Āporo Press, Overseas Experience. Ruby has kindly agreed to deliver some pukapuka to me to save on shipping, and we spend some time exploring the indie bookstores of Haight Street and discussing the joys of writing and editing without engaging with AI. We spot Rebecca K. Reilly's Greta & Valdin at Booksmith, but Hera Lindsay Bird's Juvenilia is only available across town at Green Apple Books. I make a note to order it later, and walk home to pack my suitcase again – next stop, Lenape territory, Philadelphia. Philadelphia The American Library Association (ALA) Annual Conference brings about 15,000 library workers together – this year, in Philadelphia, it takes place during a 'heat dome' event that includes thunderstorms and an average temperature that feels like 40 degrees. It's a fraught time to be a librarian in the United States, but as American Library Association immediate past-president Cindy Hohl (Santee Sioux Nation) says, there's never been a more important time to be a librarian, too. In March, the president issued an executive order to dismantle the Institute of Museum & Library Services (IMLS), the main source of federal support and funding for American libraries. A month later, hundreds of IMLS grants were terminated, ending services such as accessible museum programmes, scholarships, and initiatives for Indigenous peoples. In May, Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden (the first Black person and first woman in this role, also the first actual librarian since 1974) was abruptly fired in a two-sentence email. Amid all this, librarians fight for people's freedom to read as conservatives push to ban books pertaining to queer rights, race, sexuality and social justice. Last year, more than 15 states introduced or passed laws that would criminalise librarians and teachers for including 'harmful' content in library collections, with penalties including hefty fines and imprisonment. I've seen conservative protests that accuse librarians of 'grooming' at the last two ALA conferences I've attended, and I anticipate this will be the case in Philly too. As if that weren't enough, librarians are constantly being told that AI will take our jobs, and every librarian I know reports their institution is understaffed and underfunded. There are a couple of events I am really looking forward to. I'm on the executive board for the Asian Pacific American Library Association (APALA), which advocates for Asian American and Pacific Islander library workers and communities. I've helped pull together the APALA President's Program – APALA Celebrates The Whale Rider: Pacific Island Literature with Witi Ihimaera and Friends. Penguin Random House USA is re-releasing The Whale Rider as a Penguin Classics hardcover in a few months, including a foreword by Lily Gladstone, introduction by Shilo Kino, and contributions by librarian Dr. Loriene Roy (White Earth Anishinaabe, Minnesota Chippewa Tribe). US library programming is rarely this Pasifika-focused. Before I joined the board, I was part of a group of five librarians who wrote to APALA to protest the Asian Pacific American Awards for Literature, which had not awarded or honoured a single Pacific Island author or illustrator, in the almost 25 years of the awards programme. We were not the first ones to raise this issue, but we managed to get some traction. After much advocacy, APALA agreed to establish new award categories for Pacific Islanders, although this act of inclusivity has drawn criticism from the membership. In any case, the award juries for this year selected our first ever Pasifika award winners and honourees: Drew Afualo, Alfred Perado Flores, Makiia Lucier, Kristiana Kahakauwila, and Kaylin Melia George. Returning to the city Back in San Francisco, there's a lot of day-to-day work to catch up on, and a lot to mull over. During my travels, I was often asked if I'll ever come back home to Aotearoa – I'd like to, but I'm not sure how things will ultimately play out. I miss my whānau, the manu, and the whenua, but from what I can tell, it's hard to make ends meet back home, moreso with librarians among those impacted by proposed changes to the pay equity process. Moreover, we cannot flee the communities that support us at the first sign of discomfort. I've worked hard to build a community here, including as a member of Māori Mo Ake Tonu, a Bay Area-based kapa haka group. This weekend, the recently-declared Pacific Island Cultural District – the first in the nation – is holding a summer gathering downtown. I don't need to make any decisions today, but it will be good to get out beyond the world of writing and libraries. Just for a bit.

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