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By Nayeema Ahmad Mahjoor

The US and Israeli bombardment might be destroying the lives and livelihoods of the Iranian people. Still, from afar, it is bleeding every Kashmiri heart, regardless of sect, faith, or status.

The heart’s cry for Palestine seems to miss a beat for Tehran.

This is the first time since the end of internal autonomy in 2019 that thousands of Kashmiris took to the streets without regard for security forces and restrictions, participating in mourning the death of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei as a consequence of the US-Israeli war imposed on Iran. The mourners, under heavy police escort, highlighted various aspects of Khamenei’s life and his friendship with Kashmir.

It was observed with great pain that more Sunnis than Shiites participated in mourning processions in Kashmir and strongly criticised the US/Israeli aggression.

Approximately sixteen per cent of the population in Jammu and Kashmir are Shiites. The Shia sect was introduced into Kashmir in the fourteenth century by the Iraqi scholar Shamsuddin Iraqi, and it later flourished in the fifteenth century, when the Shia Chak dynasty ascended the throne of Kashmir.

The Mughal Emperor Jalaluddin Akbar abolished the Chak monarchy in 1586 and annexed Kashmir to India. That marked the start of invasions into the Kingdom of Kashmir.

The reason for condemning the American attacks on Iran in Kashmir is also clear from the fact that there have been close public relations between Kashmir and Iran. In addition to trade and religious ceremonies, Persian has long been the official language in the valley, later replaced by Urdu during the Dogra era. The strong influence of Iranian culture on local life and livelihood persists today, which is why Kashmir is often called ‘Minor Iran’.

After visiting Kashmir during the Maharaja’s era, Sir Mohamad Iqbal conveyed the place’s helplessness in this way,

Today, it is Kashmir — oppressed, forced, and impoverished.

Yesterday, what the wise called Minor Iran.

Most of the authentic histories and literary masterpieces of Kashmir are also written in Persian, which historians and authors consult in Iran to study, and this tradition continues to this day.

Compared to Arabs, Kashmiris have historically had a closer relationship with Iran, which has consistently spoken out against human rights violations during turbulent times and supported a peaceful resolution of the Kashmir issue in international forums. However, while Iran has previously maintained close relations with the Indian government, those relations are no longer as warm.

Iranian support during the two and a half years of Israeli genocide in Gaza has further strengthened the sense of closeness towards Iran among Kashmiris. Despite government’s tacit restrictions, they have vocally backed Iran in rallies condemning the recent Israeli-American aggression.

Although many elements tried to incite sectarian chaos in the valley, for which they sought the services of numerous religious clerics, Kashmiris strongly condemned it. They thwarted the intentions of these elements.

Perhaps one reason for the surging public sentiment is that, despite India’s Muslim population of 250 million, the government openly expressed support for Israel, prompting Muslims from Kashmir and other states to respond with enthusiasm in making donations.

This is why public support for Iran is so clear: in one village, donations amounting to Rs. 10 million were collected in a single day.

Apparently, Iran has always publicly supported the restoration of Kashmiris’ political rights; however, most observers believe that Iran has often favoured India’s stance in international organisations.

Six years ago, when Kashmiri people were deprived of their internal autonomy by losing their power, most of the Imams in Iranian mosques strongly condemned it. At the same time, Ayatollah Khamenei, citing his close ties with India, appealed to restore the rights of Kashmiris. Despite that Iran and India have had close relations, he made a statement on Kashmir at that time.

But it has often been said about some pro-India Kashmiri leaders affiliated with the Shia sect that they played a key role in shifting Iran’s stance in favour of India by strengthening their ties with Iran, and some of their descendants are still working on this today.

Although the All-Party Hurriyat Conference, fighting for the freedom of Kashmir, also included Shia leaders who were later regarded as a moderate faction within Hurriyat.

After the attacks on Iran, the central Lal Chowk and the suburbs of Srinagar were filled with crowds, just as they did during freedom processions in the nineties, which gradually transformed into mourning processions in every district. The following day, security forces sealed off Lal Chowk and most of Srinagar with tin sheets. When people refused to disperse, recognising the public’s anger, they were permitted to mourn elsewhere.

Whether it was the hanging of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto or the air crash that killed General Zia-ul-Haq, a large number of Kashmiris took to the streets. They began wailing, during which sometimes leftists and sometimes Jamaat-e-Islami workers were subjected to violence.

Iran’s firm stance against Israeli brutality in Gaza rekindled recent sympathy for Iran among Kashmiris, and they now admire the Iranian leadership for supporting the oppressed.

Another link between Kashmir and Ayatollah Khamenei was established when he visited Kashmir in 1980 at the request of Ruhollah Khomeini and emphasised the importance of sectarian unity. Before going to the Shia mosque, he visited the Jamia Mosque in Srinagar, where he attended Friday prayers with the late Mirwaiz Maulvi Farooq and called on the people to unify as one nation rather than remaining divided by sectarian differences.

This is why there was intense anger and grief over Khamenei’s death in the city centre, and stone-pelting had also begun at many locations, which was immediately brought under control.

Observing the central government’s pro-Israel stance, Kashmiris chose to align with Iran, and by standing united against the ongoing violence, they conveyed to the government that they would never endorse Israeli aggression.

Many Muslims were surprised that Prime Minister Modi did not express condolences for the death of Ayatollah Khamenei or the murder of hundreds of schoolgirls earlier, which has led to criticism from leading opposition parties, including the Congress, claiming that Modi does not want to anger Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu, with whom he was touring Tel Aviv a day before the Israeli-American attack on Iran.

Most public and political parties criticised Modi for changing India’s foreign policy without consulting anyone, while Iran has long been an old friend of India.

Although the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, under pressure from the public and opposition, has expressed sympathy for Iran and emphasised efforts to establish peace in the region, the BJP’s pro-Israel policy has not only caused significant anxiety among the public, especially Muslims, but has also led to grief over the tarnishing of India’s image on the global stage. Watching Pakistan take centre stage in international diplomacy and emerge as a peacemaker, many politicians and civil society members have strongly criticised Modi for sidelining India when it could have played a crucial role in peace-making.

Not only did crowds gather on roads, but they also set up centers to collect donations for Iran, which have now exceeded fifty crore rupees, according to initial estimates.

Chhattargam’s Sara Begum, with all her savings, walked for three hours to reach the Zadi Bal area of Srinagar, where people from different areas were gathering in large numbers to help Iran. Just on Eid, when an appeal was made to help Iran, crowds gathered at the Imam Baras.

Sara Begum’s bag did not hold paper money, but instead contained old one- or two-rupee coins, which she had been saving for a long time and had dreamed of buying a cow at the right moment. However, now, after the death of the Iranian leader, her dream is shattered.

‘When I saw the pictures of the damage caused by the American and Israeli bombing of Iran, my heart sank, and I worried about those mothers and sisters whose entire assets had been razed to the ground in just a few minutes. I decided that whatever savings I have, I will give to Iran; a cow is not needed as much as my sisters need help at this time.’

Like Sara, thousands of Kashmiri women line up in long queues at centers organised by Shia associations across various districts to receive donations for Iran.

Kashmiri children, old and young, rich and poor, Shias, Sunnis, Hindus, and Sikhs are all taking part in this effort and want to contribute to Iran’s aid fund. However, the other side of this is that the government’s change in Iran policy and the subsequent questioning of some donors have also created concerns and anxiety for many people. Why is the government interfering in our donation affairs, which have nothing to do with politics? asked many donors.

Ramiz Ali (name changed for security reasons) from Budgam says that when he deposited a large sum of money into Iran’s aid account, he received a call from the police and was asked to appear at the police station.

Ramiz says, “If we want to help Iran, it has become necessary to do so with the government’s consent, as would be the case in an authoritarian regime. We don’t care about the government’s policy; let it support Israel. We cannot support those who committed genocide in Palestine or destroyed a peaceful nation. The recent policy of the central government has hurt our feelings.”

Appreciating the spirit of the Kashmiris and their example of donation, the Iranian ambassador in Delhi expressed his gratitude and said he values this gesture. The Iranian embassy released the bank account details at public insistence to enable the transfer of aid money directly to Iran. It is estimated that millions of rupees have been received in this account.

The Tehran Times published an image of a drone in a news report, with the caption thanking the Kashmiris and seeking revenge for the death of Ayatollah Khamenei.

Agha Syed Muhammad Hadi Moosavi, associated with the Anjuman Sharia Shian in Jammu and Kashmir, states that those who did not have cash donated copper vessels, gold, silver, vehicles, and valuables. Agha Moosavi further said that it is a living example of our traditional and cultural ties with Iran, as today the people have united and paid tribute to the services of those seven hundred Iranian sages who have led in introducing and spreading the religion of Islam in the valley, whether it is Bulbul Shah or Syed Ali Hamadani.

‘Kashmir, known as Minor Iran, and Iran share a common cultural heritage, whether in fine arts, handicrafts, language, or cuisine. Every item bears the stamp of Iran,’ he said.

Agha Mujtaba, another associate of Anjuman Sharia Shian, states that “cash donations are being deposited directly into the account of the Iranian embassy in Delhi, while the proceeds from selling gold, silver or other items are deposited into the account.”

Although the government has quietly imposed a ban on pro-Iranian gatherings, it continues to monitor the collection of donations closely. Some reports suggest that a few donors have also been reprimanded. It could not be confirmed, however.

The economy of Jammu and Kashmir has been extremely weak due to the violent situation that has persisted for over three decades. Nevertheless, the people have not hesitated to support the Iranian people, have collected millions of rupees in aid, and voice opposition to US and Israeli aggression, much to the dismay of the BJP government.

Nayeema Ahmad Mahjoor is an author and journalist

29 March 2026

Source: countercurrents.org

By Prof. Junaid S. Ahmad

In recent days, Islamabad has been cast — by its own officials and attentive external actors — as a venue for backchannel contacts linked to the escalating U.S.–Israeli confrontation with Iran. The choreography is familiar: signals of readiness, hints of quiet facilitation, the projection of Pakistan as a responsible intermediary at a moment of regional strain. States host such efforts as a matter of routine diplomacy. Yet the dissonance here is hard to miss. As Pakistan presents itself as a bridge in a crisis it did little to avert, its most prominent political figure associated with a more independent vision of Iran’s regional role remains imprisoned within the same capital.

That juxtaposition is not incidental. It exposes the contradiction at the heart of the performance.

The Islamabad spectacle is therefore not merely about diplomacy. It is about political deflection. A regime with thinning legitimacy at home seeks borrowed significance abroad. It cannot generate authority through representation, so it pursues visibility through geopolitical performance. Host the talks. Carry the messages. Pose for the cameras. Let foreign relevance impersonate domestic credibility.

But this performance becomes especially obscene when set against Imran Khan’s imprisonment. Khan represented a distinctly different orientation toward Iran from that of Pakistan’s present custodians. He did not treat Iran as a subordinate issue to be handled within the constraints imposed by Saudi and American preferences. He understood that Iran’s isolation was not a natural condition of the region but a manufactured one, imposed by U.S. coercion, Israeli aggression, Gulf monarchic insecurity, and the political caution of dependent Muslim states.

This was visible geopolitically in Khan’s instinct for regional reconciliation. He sought to reduce antagonism between Iran and Saudi Arabia rather than merely rent Pakistan’s services to one camp against the other. More importantly, he was drawn to the possibility of a wider Muslim political formation not monopolized by Riyadh’s theology, money, and diplomatic disciplining. The aborted Kuala Lumpur summit was emblematic in this regard. It gestured toward a counter-hegemonic Muslim conversation involving Malaysia, Turkey, Qatar, Pakistan, and potentially Iran — a conversation not pre-cleared by the House of Saud. That Khan was effectively pressured into withdrawing from it was more than a diplomatic humiliation. It was a revelation of Pakistan’s dependency: a nuclear state told, in effect, that even its attendance at an alternative Muslim forum required monarchical permission.

Yet Khan’s affinity with Iran cannot be reduced to geopolitics alone. That is where most analyses remain superficial. His relation to Iran was also intellectual, even civilizational. Two Iranian thinkers matter here above all others: Seyyed Hossein Nasr and Ali Shariati. Together, they illuminate a dimension of Khan that Pakistan’s establishment neither understands nor forgives.

From Nasr comes an expansive vision of Islam grounded in religious pluralism and a deep respect for multiple paths to the Divine. Nasr’s thought affirms that truth is not monopolized by a single historical or institutional expression, but refracted through diverse traditions, each carrying a measure of sacred insight. It is precisely this inclusive, civilizationally confident understanding of Islam — one that resists reduction to sectarian rigidity or state-managed orthodoxy — that resonated with Khan. It offered him a language of faith that was intellectually serious, spiritually generous, and resistant to politicized narrowing.

Khan’s encounter with Shariati, by contrast, came through a shared intellectual lineage with Muhammad Iqbal. Like Khan, Shariati was deeply influenced by Iqbal’s philosophical and poetic vision, and it was through this connection that Khan came to appreciate Shariati’s work. What Shariati offered, alongside this intellectual inheritance, was a dynamic conception of Islam as an emancipatory force — a language of resistance against hierarchy, stagnation, and imperial domination. He rejected the passivity of clerical quietism and reimagined Islam as a vehicle for social justice, moral awakening, and political transformation. That sensibility resonates deeply with Khan’s better impulses: his attraction to Iqbal, his suspicion of subservient elites, his recurring insistence that Muslim political life must recover moral purpose rather than serve as a local management class for foreign power.

This is precisely why Khan has always been such a dissonant figure within Pakistan’s dominant order. He is not opposed merely because he is popular. He is opposed because he disrupts the theological and geopolitical grammar on which the order depends. Saudi-aligned Islam prefers obedience over emancipation; the Pakistani security state prefers utility over sovereignty; Washington prefers reliable managers over unpredictable national figures. Khan, at his most politically lucid, unsettled all three.

That is what makes the current pageantry in Islamabad so revealing. The same establishment that has hollowed out domestic legitimacy now eagerly embraces the role of intermediary, not as an exercise in sovereign initiative but as participation in a script written elsewhere. These negotiations — if they materialize at all — risk serving as little more than a diplomatic façade, a managed performance of de-escalation even as the underlying machinery of U.S.-Israeli coercion continues to operate. Islamabad’s rulers do not resist this arrangement; they lean into it, presenting proximity to power as proof of relevance, even when that proximity underscores their dependence.

Iran, for its part, has little reason to enter into such a process. It has seen enough negotiations conducted under threat, enough diplomacy used as camouflage for coercion, enough “peace efforts” that preserve the aggressor’s freedom to strike again. In that setting, Pakistan’s current rulers do not appear as principled brokers. They appear as functionaries of managed optics.

And so the image that remains is devastatingly simple: in Islamabad, the regime hosts the language of peace while jailing the one leader who seriously imagined Iran not as a target of containment, but as a partner in a different regional future. That contrast tells us nearly everything.

The mediator worth thinking about is not the one in the conference hall.

It is the one in prison.

Prof. Junaid S. Ahmad teaches Law, Religion, and Global Politics and is the Director of the Center for the Study of Islam and Decolonization (CSID), Islamabad, Pakistan.

29 March 2026

Source: countercurrents.org

By Dr Ghassan Shahrour

Seventy years of crisis in Iran did not begin with ideology, nuclear ambitions, or regional rivalries. They began with a single, deliberate rupture that the world has spent decades minimizing or ignoring: the destruction of Iran’s democratic trajectory by the very powers that now speak most forcefully about “supporting the Iranian people.”

In 1953, the United States and the United Kingdom overthrew Iran’s democratically elected Prime Minister, Mohammad Mossadegh. Declassified CIA and MI6 documents confirm that the operation was designed to reverse the nationalization of Iranian oil and restore Western control over Iran’s resources. What was dismantled was not simply a government, but a functioning democratic experiment that had emerged from decades of constitutional struggle.

This was not an episode. It was the first betrayal — and one the international community has never fully confronted.

The coup violated core principles later codified in the UN Charter, including the right of peoples to self‑determination and the sovereign equality of states. Its consequences were immediate and enduring. The reinstatement of authoritarian rule—backed, financed, and protected by external powers—produced decades of repression, corruption, and political fragmentation. For ordinary Iranians, this meant living under a system where civic freedoms were constrained, institutions were weakened, and decisions about their future were shaped by interests far beyond their borders.

The economic dimension of this rupture was equally damaging. By reversing the nationalization of Iranian oil, the coup entrenched a model in which Western oil companies profited while Iranian communities near extraction sites endured environmental degradation, economic inequality, and the long-term social impacts of resource exploitation. The promise of sovereignty over natural wealth was replaced by a structure that deepened dependency and fueled public resentment — a reality rarely acknowledged in contemporary debates.

Any serious analysis must acknowledge that Iran’s subsequent trajectory has also been shaped by internal political dynamics and governance choices. But external intervention remains a foundational element — one that continues to shape Iranian perceptions of international engagement and the credibility of foreign calls for “democracy.”

Yet today, governments that helped dismantle Iran’s democratic institutions present themselves as advocates of Iranian freedom. This is not simply a contradiction. It is a credibility gap rooted in lived history — a history the world often turns a blind eye to. It is difficult to take calls for “democracy in Iran” seriously when they come from governments that helped extinguish Iran’s last democratic experiment — and have spent decades turning a blind eye to the consequences.

And the pattern did not end in 1953; it adapted.

Targeted killings of Iranian scientists and officials over recent decades—widely attributed in international reporting to Israel—raise serious concerns under international law, including protections of the right to life under the ICCPR. Extensive U.S. sanctions, described by UN experts as having broad humanitarian consequences, have affected access to medicine, economic stability, and civilian well‑being. These pressures shape the daily lives of millions of Iranians, yet they are often framed as technical policy tools rather than measures with profound human impact.

Meanwhile, unresolved regional conflicts and the uneven application of international legal standards continue to influence Iran’s security posture. When violations of international humanitarian law by some actors are minimized or ignored, while others are scrutinized intensely, the result is a hierarchy of rights that undermines the universality of international norms.

This selective application of principles is not incidental. It is structural.

It reflects a global order in which the enforcement of international law is often contingent on political alignment rather than legal obligation. When policy debates prioritize market stability or geopolitical advantage over human impact, the normative framework that underpins international law begins to erode.

For international civil society, the implications are clear.

The UN’s sustaining peace framework (UNGA/SC Resolutions 70/262 and 2282) emphasizes that durable peace requires addressing root causes, including historical grievances and violations of self‑determination. Ignoring such foundations does not stabilize conflicts — it perpetuates them.

The 1953 coup, subsequent patterns of external pressure, and the broader regional context are not peripheral to understanding Iran. They are part of the architecture within which contemporary tensions unfold.

To omit them is not neutrality. It is distortion.
To ignore them is not oversight. It is complicity.

Any meaningful call for democracy, human rights, or de‑escalation must begin with consistency in the application of principles. Without it, the language of democracy risks becoming an instrument of policy rather than a standard of justice. And without confronting the first betrayal — the rupture of 1953 — efforts to support the Iranian people will remain constrained by a past that has never been fully acknowledged, and therefore never fully addressed.

Dr Ghassan Shahrour, Coordinator of Arab Human Security Network, is a medical doctor, prolific writer, and human rights advocate specializing in health, disability, disarmament, and human security.

29 March 2026

Source: countercurrents.org

By Azmat Ali

The Iran-US-Israel war enters its fourth week. The United States and Israel continue to attack Iran and Iran retaliates on Israel and the assets of the United States in Gulf countries. Iran’s key leaders, primarily its Supreme leader, are killed, yet the country remains steadfast in defending its land. Rather than collapsing, the Iranian people have now become stronger and more united than they were before the war, contrary to what the United States and Israel reportedly anticipated. Despite the United States and Israel’s sustained campaign against Islamic Republic of Iran and heavy bombardment that primarily killed 1,500 civilians, they stand in support of Islamic Republic of Iran and refuse US-Israel intervention. They remain committed to their principle: never surrender and always resist. This is the profound reality that the United States and Israel failed to understand.

There is a widely held assumption that the assassinations of a country’s key leaders can leave a nation paralysed. But Iran proved this assumption wrong by responding differently. They take to the street in solidarity to Iran, rally in support of their government, and chant anti-imperialist, anti-American and Anti-Israeli slogans. The destruction and losses of war do not weaken them; instead, they revive a sense of nationalism, strengthen unity, and narrow the gap between the people and the government. Iran is attacked but not broken; it lost leaders, not leadership, and it will endure.

On 28 February corresponding to 10th Ramadan, the first day of the war on Iran, the US-Israeli’s coordinated air strikes killed the Supreme Leader of Iran, while he was working at the office. The 86-year old leader did not seek refuge in a bunker but continued his service to the nation which he has been developing through revolutionary and visionary leadership for four decades.

As the enemy’s prime target, his service to the nation carries immense symbolic force, and in moments of war, symbols matter greatly. Khamenei’s decision not to seek safety in a bunker sends a stark image of resistance. Death, in this case, does not signify defeat but martyrdom—a continuation of life.

Following the killing of the Supreme Leader, Iran responded swiftly by striking the US bases in the countries where it was attacked from, targeting air bases and other American assets, contrary to Washington’s expectations. United States President Donald Trump admitted this when he said: “In the last two weeks, they [Iran] were not supposed to go after all these other countries in the Middle East. Those missiles were set to go after them. So, they hit Qatar, Saudi Arabia, UAE, Bahrain, Kuwait. Nobody expected that. We were shocked. And the other one, you know, they fought back. They could have yielded.”

Trump’s admission that Iran “could have yielded” reveals a significant historical miscalculation. The United States attacked Iraq, killed Saddam Hussein, and the result was regime change. In Libya, Muammar Gaddafi was killed, and regime change followed there as well. Iran, however, did not yield. It is fighting back.

Iran presented something quite different, something unexpected. It cannot be re-engineered through the killing of leaders and the bombing of the country because of its ideology and complex political structure. After the Islamic Revolution in 1979, without significant military power, it fought an imposed war for eight years. Iran does not merely rely upon its military power but also on its ideology of revolution, sacrifice, and resistance that generate the spirit of resistance.

For millions of Iranians, this historical tragedy of Karbala is a living moral framework for standing against aggression, a refusal to submit to the tyrannical ruler of one’s time, without fear of death or defeat. The life and sacrifice of Imam Hussain teach ‘live with dignity’ and “Death with dignity is better than a life of humiliation”. In this situation, martyrdom carries weight. It cannot be considered a loss but the highest testimony to truth and justice. The holy Quran testifies: “Never say that those martyred in the cause of Allah are dead—in fact, they are alive! But you do not perceive it.” (Al-Quran, 2:154). Thus, resistance in Iran is not purely military; it is also theological, ethical, and historical.

Similarly, Khamenei’s death is a martyrdom, refusing to submit to the imperial power of the United States and Israel, showing no fear of death and continuing the chain of sacrifice in defence of the land, the Islamic Republic of Iran. He continued his duties as usual, confronting the enemy rather than yielding or fleeing out of fear of death, despite media reports and rumours that he had fled to Russia.

This is not only about Ali Khamenei, but about the entire leadership structure of Iran. In this view, none of them fears death; rather, they confront it openly. The deaths of their leaders are seen not as a source of weakness, but as a force that makes Iran stronger and more resilient. They will continue fighting until they attain martyrdom.

In sum, Iran will never bow to its enemies. It will continue fighting until martyrdom is achieved. They rely not merely on weapons and military power but also on sacrifice, martyrdom, dignity, and memory. This is why, after leaders are killed, cities are struck, and defence facilities are targeted, they are not collapsed. They did not yield and continued to resist. In this sense, the message is clear: Iran will not bow down to any aggression.

Azmat Ali is a New Delhi–based writer in English and Urdu who focuses on literature, religion, and politics

29 March 2026

Source: countercurrents.org

By Hassan Herzallah

For students in Gaza, studying is no longer an individual activity, but a collective, grassroots effort to preserve education in the absence of formal institutions.

In a corner of a displacement camp in Al-Mawasi, in southern Gaza, Alaa carefully tapes a sheet of white paper onto a worn wooden board. Dust moves through the air as the wind blows across the camp, where noise and movement rarely stop.

Around her, other tents stretch across the sandy ground of the camp, where thousands of displaced families now live. Children move between the narrow paths separating the tents, while the distant sound of generators and conversation fills the air.

Just a week before the war began in October 2023, Alaa, a 23-year-old fine arts student at Al-Aqsa University in Gaza, worked inside the university’s art studio, surrounded by paints and materials as she planned her graduation project — a collage made by assembling different materials on a single surface. Today, after being displaced during the war, she is trying to rebuild that project using simple materials gathered from friends and a few belongings she managed to retrieve from beneath the rubble of her family’s bombed home.

“When I lost my tent and the materials I used for painting, I felt like I had lost a big part of my soul,” Alaa said. “At first, I lost my passion, but not my hope. Later I tried to start again with whatever I could find, and with support from friends.”

What Alaa is doing is not unusual. Across Gaza, students are trying to continue their education under extraordinary circumstances. Universities have been damaged or destroyed, classrooms reduced to rubble, and electricity and internet connections are often unreliable.

Yet many students keep studying — sometimes inside tents, sometimes among ruins.

Education in Gaza is no longer simply an academic path. For many students, it has become a daily act of quiet resistance. Not because students are making political statements, but because continuing to learn under these conditions becomes a way of refusing erasure — of their futures, their identities and their right to education.

After more than two years of devastation in Gaza, the education system is on the verge of collapse. International estimates indicate that more than 97 percent of schools in Gaza have been damaged or destroyed, and more than 12 universities across the territory have been severely affected or rendered unusable. This destruction has been caused by deliberate Israeli airstrikes and military operations, in an attempt to erase educational progress.

In many cases, schools have been turned into shelters for displaced families rather than places for learning. Some students now study in temporary spaces inside tents, damaged homes or online, without the tools they need to learn.

Before the war, tens of thousands of university students attended Gaza’s universities and colleges. Today, many of those institutions lie in ruins. Still, some students are trying to rebuild their academic lives in unconventional ways.

Ahmed, a 22-year-old fourth-year medical student, expected to spend this year in clinical training inside hospitals. Under normal circumstances, medical students spend their final years rotating through hospital departments and operating rooms, learning directly from doctors and patients.

But the reality in Gaza today is very different.

“Becoming a doctor in Gaza today means carrying a heavy responsibility toward your community,” Ahmed said. “Doctors here don’t only face medical challenges — they also work in extremely difficult conditions with limited resources.”

With hospital training often impossible, Ahmed and his classmates have developed alternative ways to keep learning.

“We discuss medical topics and clinical scenarios with each other as if we were in hospital rounds,” he said. “We ask questions and exchange ideas. It cannot replace real clinical training, but it helps us keep our clinical thinking alive.”

In some cases, students also find themselves learning inside field hospitals set up in tents. Gaza’s health care system has been pushed to its limits during the war, with hospitals overwhelmed by patients and many medical facilities damaged or operating under emergency conditions. For medical students like Ahmed, this reality has turned learning into something inseparable from the crisis unfolding around them, where temporary facilities become spaces for both treatment and learning.

Cooperation between students has become essential to continuing their studies.

“We share books and study materials, and whenever someone manages to get lecture notes or summaries, they send them to everyone,” Ahmed said. In this way, studying becomes more than an individual effort — it turns into a form of mutual aid, where students rely on one another to fill the gaps left by the collapse of institutions.

In those moments, he added, they feel like medical students again, despite everything happening around them.

For Alaa, continuing to create art under these conditions often feels nearly impossible. Fine arts education depends heavily on practical studio work and access to materials — many of which disappeared during the war.

Some students were forced to pause their studies temporarily, while others tried to find alternatives with whatever resources were available.

“Instead of canvas, many students now paint on tent fabric,” Alaa said. “Some have even drawn on prayer rugs. The idea is simply to use whatever we can find.”

In one of her recent works, Alaa used pieces of torn tent fabric as part of the artwork and added small fragments of shrapnel she found nearby, attempting to transform remnants of destruction into elements of the painting itself.

The artworks she produces now may not reach the level she once hoped for, but they carry a different meaning.

“For us, art is not just a hobby,” she said. “It is a way to express our feelings, our suffering and our reality.”

“Art is a powerful tool,” she added. “Through it we can show the world what we are going through. As long as art exists, hope still exists.”

Efforts to sustain education are not limited to students. Some university professors are also trying to keep the learning process alive despite the difficult conditions.

Whenever electricity or internet access becomes available, some professors record short lectures and send them to students or answer questions online.

In some cases, small learning meetings are organized — sometimes online, and sometimes in person once or twice a month in temporary locations such as a tent or another relatively safe space. Even with these limitations, these efforts help students stay connected to their education.

With formal institutions largely gone, students increasingly rely on one another. Some share books when they can. Others take turns using internet connections to download materials or submit assignments. Small study groups form whenever conditions allow.

For many students, studying is no longer an individual effort, but a collective attempt to preserve education, one that reflects a form of grassroots organizing in the absence of formal institutions.

In an attempt to support that cooperation, I created an online study group bringing together students from literature and translation programs. Within these groups, students share study materials, exchange lecture notes and help one another keep up with coursework despite electricity cuts, weak internet and the difficult conditions we are living through. What started as a simple effort to stay connected gradually became something larger — a small form of community-building, where students support each other not only academically, but also emotionally.

These small initiatives cannot replace universities or classrooms, but they help students keep going. For many of them, education has become more of a collective effort than ever before.

In Gaza today, resistance does not always appear in the form of protests or slogans. Sometimes it is quieter.

A student reviewing notes by the light of a phone. A group of students sharing a fragile internet connection to submit an assignment. Or an art student completing her project using materials salvaged from the rubble.

For Alaa, painting became a way to continue and to express herself. For Ahmed, studying medicine has become a responsibility toward the future of his community.

As for me, a student and writer in Gaza, writing has become my way of expressing what we feel and trying to make sense of what we are living through.

In a place where universities have been destroyed and institutions have collapsed, continuing to study, write and learn becomes a simple but meaningful act — an attempt to keep the future alive even in the most difficult circumstances. For many students, continuing their education is also a way of refusing the idea that their future can simply disappear with the destruction around them.

The buildings may be gone, but what remains is a form of everyday resistance — one rooted in collective care, shared knowledge and a determination to keep learning despite everything. In that sense, these small acts of studying, sharing and creating are not only about education, but about sustaining a community and a future.

Hassan Herzallah is a Palestinian writer and translator based in Gaza.

28 March 2026

Source: countercurrents.org

By Ranjan Solomon

The killing of Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, amid escalating conflict in West Asia has triggered a profound and multifaceted response in Kashmir. Far beyond routine political reactions, the Valley has witnessed an outpouring of humanitarian support, public protests, and symbolic acts of solidarity. These developments offer a compelling lens through which to examine the intersection of religion, politics, identity, and global consciousness in Kashmir’s socio-political fabric.

Humanitarian Mobilisation: Beyond Symbolism

Perhaps the most striking aspect of Kashmir’s response has been the scale and intensity of grassroots humanitarian efforts. Across the Valley—particularly in Shia-majority areas—residents have organised donation drives, contributing cash, gold jewellery, and even essential household items such as copper utensils.

These contributions are not merely token gestures. They reflect a deeply internalised sense of moral obligation toward communities perceived as suffering under conflict. In many cases, families have reportedly parted with heirlooms or encouraged children to donate their savings. Such acts suggest that the movement is not driven solely by political motivations but also by ethical and emotional impulses rooted in shared identity and empathy.

From a sociological perspective, this behaviour aligns with what scholars describe as “transnational moral communities” – networks of solidarity that transcend national boundaries, often anchored in shared religion, history, or perceived collective vulnerability. In Kashmir, where political uncertainty and conflict have long shaped everyday life, such identification with distant crises becomes particularly pronounced.

Religious Identity and Transnational Solidarity

The prominent participation of Shia communities in these efforts is significant. Iran, as a major centre of Shia Islam, occupies a unique symbolic position within the global Shia imagination. For many Kashmiri Shias, solidarity with Iran is not just geopolitical – it is also spiritual and cultural.

However, what makes the current wave of support noteworthy is its apparent expansion beyond sectarian lines. Reports suggest that Sunnis, as well as members of Hindu and Sikh communities in some areas, have also contributed to relief efforts. While the scale of such cross-community participation may vary, its presence indicates that the response cannot be reduced to sectarian affinity alone.

Instead, it reflects a layered identity structure in Kashmir, where religious belonging intersects with broader narratives of justice, resistance, and humanitarian concern. The framing of the donations as aid for “war-affected people” rather than as support for a state or regime reinforces this interpretation.

Protest as Political Expression

Parallel to the humanitarian initiatives, protests across Srinagar, Budgam, and other parts of the Valley have underscored the political dimension of the response. Demonstrators have voiced anger over the alleged involvement of the United States and Israel in the killing, raising slogans and organising public gatherings despite restrictions.

These protests can be understood within Kashmir’s long-standing tradition of political mobilisation. Public demonstrations in the region often serve as a means of articulating grievances—not only about local issues but also about global events perceived to resonate with local experiences.

In this context, the protests are not simply about Iran. They are also about expressing dissent against perceived global power asymmetries and military interventions. For many participants, the events in West Asia may echo their own perceptions of injustice, marginalisation, or geopolitical vulnerability.

Institutional Responses and Political Contestation

The involvement of religious and political institutions has further shaped the narrative. The Muttahida Majlis-e-Ulema (MMU), an influential body of Islamic scholars, called for a voluntary shutdown to express solidarity with Iran. Such calls carry significant weight in Kashmir, where religious leadership continues to play an important role in public life.

Meanwhile, political leaders, including members of the Jammu and Kashmir National Conference, have condemned the killing and criticised the imposition of restrictions on protests. Their stance highlights an ongoing tension between state authority and civil liberties in the region.

Authorities, for their part, have responded by tightening security and imposing restrictions in sensitive areas such as Srinagar’s Lal Chowk. These measures are consistent with the state’s approach to managing public order in a region historically marked by volatility. However, they also raise questions about the balance between security and democratic expression.

Media Narratives and Information Flows

Another critical dimension of the situation is the role of media—both traditional and digital—in shaping public perception. Social media platforms have played a key role in disseminating images of protests, donation drives, and emotional appeals. These platforms amplify the sense of immediacy and connection, enabling local communities to engage with distant conflicts in real time.

At the same time, the circulation of unverified or exaggerated claims—such as the scale of funds raised – highlights the challenges of information reliability in a hyperconnected environment. Competing narratives, often influenced by political or ideological biases, further complicate the public understanding of events.

For analysts, this underscores the importance of critically evaluating sources and recognising the ways in which information ecosystems can both mobilise and polarise communities.

Historical Context: Kashmir and Global Muslim Causes

Kashmir’s response to the situation in Iran is not an isolated expression. Historically, the region has demonstrated solidarity with various international causes involving Muslim-majority populations, including conflicts in Palestine, Iraq, and Afghanistan.

This pattern reflects what sociologists’ term “imagined solidarities” – forms of collective identification that are not based on direct interaction but on shared narratives, symbols, and experiences. In Kashmir, such solidarities are often reinforced by religious discourse, media representations, and political rhetoric.

At the same time, these expressions of solidarity are shaped by local conditions. Kashmir’s own history of conflict and political contestation provides a framework through which global events are interpreted and internalised.

Humanitarianism vs. Political Implications

While many participants frame their actions as purely humanitarian, the broader implications are more complex. Acts of solidarity, especially in politically charged contexts, inevitably carry symbolic and political meanings.

For some observers, the donation drives and protests represent a compassionate response to human suffering. For others, they raise concerns about the potential politicisation of humanitarian aid and the alignment of local sentiments with international geopolitical dynamics.

This duality is not unique to Kashmir. Across the world, humanitarian actions often exist at the intersection of ethics and politics, reflecting both genuine concern and underlying ideological orientations.

Conclusion: A Mirror of Kashmir’s Complex Identity

The wave of solidarity with Iran in Kashmir offers a revealing glimpse into the region’s intricate social and political landscape. It highlights the coexistence of humanitarian empathy, religious identity, and political consciousness within a single collective response.

Far from being a simple reaction to distant events, Kashmir’s mobilisation reflects a deeply embedded sense of connection to global issues—one that is shaped by history, identity, and lived experience. It also underscores the enduring role of civil society, religious institutions, and political actors in mediating public sentiment.

As the situation in West Asia continues to evolve, the developments in Kashmir serve as a reminder that global conflicts are rarely confined to their immediate geography. Instead, they ripple outward, influencing communities far beyond their point of origin and revealing the complex ways in which people make sense of a turbulent world.

Ranjan Solomon has worked in social justice movements since he was 19 years of age.

28 March 2026

Source: countercurrents.org

By Dr. Ramzy Baroud

Those who had the misfortune of growing up in a war zone require no explanation. War is hell, it is true—but for children, it is something else entirely: a confusing, disorienting fate that defies comprehension.

There are children who live only briefly, experiencing whatever life manages to offer them: the love of parents, the camaraderie of siblings, the fragile joys and inevitable hardships of existence.

There are over 20,000 children in this category who have been killed in Gaza over the span of roughly two years, according to figures released by the Gaza Health Ministry and repeatedly cited by United Nations agencies. Some were born and killed within the same short timeframe.

Others remain buried beneath the rubble of the destroyed Strip. According to humanitarian and forensic experts cited by the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), thousands of bodies are still missing under collapsed buildings, with recovery efforts hindered by the scale of destruction and lack of equipment. In some cases, extreme heat, fire, and the use of heavy explosive weaponry have rendered identification nearly impossible, meaning that many of these children may never be properly accounted for, let alone mourned at a grave.

These children will not have graves to be visited. And if they do, many will have no living parents left to pray for them. But we will always do.

And then, there are those who are wounded and maimed—tens of thousands of them. Visiting Amro, the wounded son of a relative who perished along with his entire family in Gaza, I witnessed one of the most heartbreaking sights one could possibly endure: the wounded and maimed children of Gaza in a Turkish hospital.

There were a few teenagers, many without limbs. Hospital staff had adorned them with the beloved Palestinian keffiyeh. Those who could flashed the victory sign, and those who had no arms raised what remained of their limbs, as if to tell every wandering visitor that they stand for something deep and unyielding, that their losses were not in vain.

But then there were the little ones, who experienced trauma without fully comprehending even the magnitude of their tragedy. They stared in confusion at everyone—the unfamiliar faces, the incomprehensible languages spoken around them, the empty walls.

My nephew kept speaking of his parents, who were meant to visit him any day. They were both gone, along with his only brother.

I was in kindergarten in a refugee camp in Gaza when I witnessed my first military raid. The target was our school. I still recall our teachers pushing back against soldiers as they forced their way into the building. I remember them being physically assaulted, screaming at us to run toward the orchard.

We began running while holding hands with one another. We were all wearing matching red outfits with stickers on our faces—none of us had any understanding of who these men were or why they were hurting the people who cared for us.

If the killing of children in Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, Iran, and across the Middle East is normalized, then it will become just another accepted feature of war. And since “war is hell,” we will all move on, accepting that our children—anywhere in the world—now stand on the front lines of victimhood whenever it suits the calculations of war.

I have thought about this often in recent years—during the devastation in Gaza, the wars across the region, and the killing of students at a school in the Iranian city of Minab.

Minab is not just an Iranian tragedy; it is our collective loss. Evidence from international investigations indicates that the strike on the Shajareh Tayyebeh school was not an accident, but the result of deliberate targeting within a broader military campaign.

Amnesty International concluded that the school building was directly struck with guided weapons. Investigations by major outlets, alongside US military sources, suggest the site had been placed on a target list despite being a functioning school. The result was devastating: children killed, families shattered, and yet another atrocity absorbed into the relentless rhythm of war.

The US administration may deny intent as often as it wishes. But we know that the killing of children is not incidental. It is evidenced in Gaza, where the scale alone defies any claim of accident. As UNICEF Executive Director Catherine Russell stated, “Gaza has become a graveyard for thousands of children.” That reality alone should end any debate.

I could pause here to tell you that all children are precious, that all lives are sacred, and that international law is unequivocal on this matter. I could invoke the Fourth Geneva Convention, which states that “protected persons (…) shall at all times be humanely treated,” and that violence against civilians is strictly prohibited.

Yes, I could do all of that. But I fear it would make little difference.

Everything we have said and done has failed Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, and much of our region. International law, once seen as a shield, has become little more than a point of departure for conversations about its ineffectiveness and hypocrisy.

Speaking to Palestinians about international law often generates not reassurance, but frustration and anger. So I will spare you that, too.

Instead, I want to make a call to the world.

A call on behalf of Amro, and the many others from our family who were killed, and the thousands more who perished; a call on behalf of the frightened children of the Flowers Kindergarten in my old refugee camp in Gaza: please, do not allow them to normalize the killing of children.

Do not settle for indifference, or mere concern, or even moral outrage that is never followed by action.

Dr. Ramzy Baroud is a journalist, author and the Editor of The Palestine Chronicle.

28 March 2026

Source: countercurrents.org

By Vijay Prashad

Last year, in July, the United States and Israel bombarded Iran’s nuclear energy and nuclear research facilities over twelve days. After a few days, the two belligerent powers—who had no United Nations authorisation for this war of aggression—opened the door for a ceasefire. At that time, believing that this might very well be the basis for a full negotiation, the Iranian government led by Supreme Leader Ali Hosseini Khamenei agreed to the terms set out: an immediate end to the strikes and no escalation. The missile launchers went quiet, but the deal was very fragile. There was no long-term peace agreement, no binding enforcement or monitoring mechanisms, no settlement on the nuclear issues, and no agreement to end US and Israeli sabotage and attacks on Iran. This was not an end to the war imposed by the United States and Israel on Iran, but only an agreement to stop one battle. Khamenei described the US and Israel aggression as futile and said that they “gained nothing,” while at the same time saying that Iran had forced a ceasefire and would “never surrender.”

Oman has a decades-long reputation as a neutral intermediary between Iran and the United States (with Israel lurking in the background). Between 2012 and 2013, it was Oman that hosted the US-Iran talks that resulted in the 2015 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) between Iran and the P5+1 (USA, UK, France, China, Russia + Germany) and the European Union—reducing sanctions in exchange for some promises on nuclear enrichment. A secure and discreet channel existed between Muscat for Tehran and Washington, and this communication line became active after July toward a proper negotiation to clarify red lines and to reduce the risk of miscalculation. In fact, the conversation broadened, and Iran came to the point of accepting that its uranium enrichment would be capped, that its highly enriched stockpiles would be diluted, and that the International Atomic Energy Agency could re-expand monitoring and inspections. This was not a final deal, but it was a negotiation framework with conditional nuclear restraint and an ongoing practice of de-escalation. Both Supreme Leader Khamenei and President Masoud Pezeshkian had the political will for a deal, which was very much on the horizon. Iran’s Foreign Minister Abbas Araqchi said less than a day before the US and Israeli attack that a deal was “within reach, but only if diplomacy is given priority.”

In fact, the United States and Israel took the other path: a war of aggression that violated the UN Charter (Article 2). On the very first day, 28 February, the United States and Israel assassinated Supreme Leader Khamenei and killed 180 girls at the Shajareh Tayyebeh Elementary School in Minab. The United States and Israel believed that this barrage of strikes against political leaders, key infrastructure, and civilians would immediately lead to a popular uprising that would remove the Islamic Republic. The US and Israeli intelligence overestimated the protests that began in December 2025 around the depreciation of the rial and rising inflation. But there is an enormous difference between a cycle of protests against economic issues and the appetite to rise up and overthrow an entire system. When the missiles killed the Supreme Leader–who has a reputation even amongst his critics for piety (he was elevated by the Society of Seminary Teachers at Qom as a Marja-e Taqlid or Source of Emulation in 1994)– and when they killed the school children, the public mood was electrified by patriotism. It was impossible in this situation to take the side of the imperialist war against innocent children. The nature of the US and Israeli attack, and the fact that Iran was able to strike Israeli targets as well as US targets in the Gulf Arab states, focused the population of Iran around its own survival and its ability to defend itself. That is the current mood amongst Iranians for the most part.

Since the US wars on Afghanistan in 2001 and Iraq in 2003, US war planners have not set aside the concept of the escalation ladder and have used the concept of rapid dominance (through decapitation strikes, paralysis of command, and total dominance of the adversary’s military). This worked with Afghanistan and Iraq, where the scale of the US violence destroyed the capacity of retaliation. It was truly ‘shock and awe’. Such a military framework did not function with Iran. The Iranians had prepared for a full—scale US and Israeli attack for decades. Their political leadership understood the vulnerability of decapitation strikes, and therefore created eight levels of replacements for most of the top, essential leaders. The military hastily formed different kinds of weapon systems, from hypersonic cluster missiles that could overcome air defence systems to the fast inshore attack crafts that employ swarm tactics in the Gulf waters. These, alongside the pro-Iranian militias from Lebanon to Iraq, are the many rings of defence that the Iranians have built. This means that while the US opens with rapid dominance and does not have an escalation ladder, the Iranian response to the US and Israel was strategically built on starting with its simplest missiles and moving to its more sophisticated cluster missiles—while it has been holding back its small boats and its militias. These have not been deployed, as Iran remains reliant upon its missiles and its hold on the Straits of Hormuz (now only open to ships from certain countries).

Iran’s intelligent response to the United States and Israel has pinned them down, leaving them with no choice but to beg for a ceasefire. The Iranian leadership says that it is uninterested in a partial ceasefire, as in July 2025, that would simply allow Israel and the United States to rearm and return with another round of violence. Iran says that it wants to have a grand bargain that includes Iran, Iraq, and Lebanon—not just Iran—and that it wants total sanctions withdrawal, an end to the genocide of the Palestinians, and other requirements that the US remove its threatening base structure that encircles Iran. If the United States and Israel agree to these demands, it would mean an absolute victory for Iran—despite the tragic losses of human lives from the vicious attack by Israel and the United States. Having killed

Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, who had been eager for the ceasefire in July 2025, the United States and Israel have lost someone who would perhaps have argued again for a ceasefire. The current leadership, including the new Supreme Leader Mojtaba Khamenei, has made an accurate assessment that a ceasefire without a grand bargain is merely about time and not about peace. The Iranians want peace for the region, not war, ceasefire, war– an endless war that results in austerity and pain.

The Israelis have not said much about the war in Iran, preferring to strike with their missiles and block any news coverage of the Iranian missile strikes on Israel. Would they be governed by a peace deal made by Trump? Unlikely. The Israelis have an eschatological view of the Middle East, eager to take the land from the Nile to the Euphrates, which would need them to silence their biggest and most consequential critic in the region, namely Iran. For Israel, this is a fight to the end. They have dragged the United States into this battle, even though there is no realistic gain for the US regarding the existence or not of the Islamic Republic (which has not threatened the United States at all). Israel wants to see the Islamic Republic uprooted, but that is an unlikely outcome given its deep roots in Iranian society. The United States would, on the other hand, be content with the management of the Islamic Republic with a pliant leadership. Neither option is on the cards. The only option for military escalation is for either the US or Israel to launch a nuclear strike against Iran—which would, after the egregious impact on the lives of Iranian civilians, evoke a totally negative response from global opinion.

There are no good options for the United States and Israel. They can remain with their bombing, but they will continue to see Iranian escalation that inflicts harm on Israel and on US interests in the region. The United States and Israel will have to face the world as fuel and food prices skyrocket. This was a miscalculation by the United States and Israel. Iran will not bend so easily. Hundreds of years of a proud civilization is at stake. Its leaders know that. They are not just standing for the Islamic Republic or the Iranian Revolution of 1979, but for Iran itself. They will not back down.

Vijay Prashad is an Indian historian and journalist.

28 March 2026

Source: countercurrents.org

By Medea Benjamin

In Cuba today, food is rotting in the fields while families go hungry.

On a recent trip to the eastern part of the island, I spoke with farmers who are watching their livelihoods slip away—not because they lack skill or dedication, but because they lack fuel, parts, and basic inputs. One farmer described fields ready to harvest but no diesel to bring the crops in. Others showed broken machinery they have no way to repair. Even those who have turned to animal traction are having problems with feed.These are not isolated stories; they reflect a system under siege.

The U.S. fuel embargo, together with tightened sanctions under Trump, is strangling Cuba’s agricultural system from seed to table—making it harder and harder for Cubans to feed themselves.

Cuban farmers have already been operating under severe constraints imposed by U.S. sanctions—struggling to obtain spare parts to repair tractors, access fertilizers and pesticides, or secure basic inputs like seeds. Machinery breaks down and sits idle for months because parts can’t be imported or paid for through normal banking channels.

Add to that Hurricane Melissa, which struck Cuba in October 2025, flooding fertile farmland and destroying crops. Climate change is wreaking havoc on agriculture, bringing stronger storms, longer droughts, erratic rainfall, and rising temperatures.

Into this already fragile system comes the fuel crisis, compounding every existing problem. Even the farm equipment that can be repaired can’t be used because there is no diesel to run it. Irrigation systems go dry, planting is delayed or scaled back, and harvests are lost.

At the same time, there is not enough fuel to transport fresh produce from rural farms to urban markets. Trucks sit idle. Distribution chains break down. Food that could nourish communities never makes it to the people who need it most.

Processing food becomes impossible. Tomatoes—one of Cuba’s most abundant seasonal crops—are a painful example. Without reliable electricity, processing factories cannot operate. Mountains of ripe tomatoes, waiting to be turned into paste or sauce, are left to spoil.

Cuban farmers are certainly resilient. Across the island, they have been experimenting with agroecology, animal traction, local inputs, and cooperative models. They are finding creative ways to grow food with fewer resources. But resilience has limits.No amount of ingenuity can substitute for fuel that doesn’t arrive, machinery that can’t be repaired, or markets that can’t be reached.

This is not just an agricultural crisis—it is a humanitarian one.

On various trips to Cuba delivering humanitarian aid, I met women across the island who are desperate to find enough food to feed their children. They spend hours in lines, piecing together meals from whatever they can find, and constantly worrying about what to put on the kitchen table tomorrow. Their struggle mirrors what is happening in the countryside: a breakdown that is squeezing both producers and consumers at once.

Families stand in long lines for basic staples. Protein is scarce. Fresh fruits and vegetables—when available—are often priced beyond the reach of ordinary people. State salaries—often the equivalent of $15 to $30 a month—have been completely overtaken by soaring food prices driven by scarcity and inflation. A few pounds of tomatoes, a carton of eggs, or a bottle of cooking oil can consume a week’s wages. Pensioners and families living on fixed incomes are hit the hardest, forced to stretch rations, skip meals, or rely on remittances from relatives abroad—if they are lucky enough to have them.

The government has set up soup kitchens—the Sistema de Atención a la Familia (Family Care System)—to support the most vulnerable. But at the one we visited in Holguín, portions had grown smaller and less varied, and staff were forced to scavenge for wood to cook with due to gas shortages and unreliable electricity.

Rep. María Elvira Salazar, a leading voice in Congress for tightening sanctions, has openly acknowledged that the suffering of mothers and children is a price worth paying for regime change. Perhaps she should consult with Cubans on the island—not just those in Miami—about whether this is a price worth paying.

Trump’s major proponent of squeezing Cuba is Secretary of State Marco Rubio. Rubio argues that this pressure is necessary to force regime change and a flowering of private enterprise. But across the island, small-scale farmers and cooperatives already operate as private entrepreneurs, growing food, managing their own production, and selling to local markets–most of which have been privatized. Yet instead of supporting this sector, U.S. sanctions are crippling it. The very people the U.S. claims to champion are being strangled by the same policies that claim to promote them.

If the goal is to support the Cuban people, this policy is an utter failure. And for those unmoved by humanitarian concerns, think about an unstoppable wave of mass migration that may well be unleashed. In recent years, over a million Cubans—roughly one in ten—have migrated in search of a better life, most of them heading to the United States. While Trump has now closed the borders, the crisis risks fueling a new wave of desperate Cubans.

The solution is not complicated.

Lift the blockade. Allow Cuba to import fuel without threats of sanctioning the countries that provide it. Stop punishing farmers for trying to grow food—and the Cuban people simply trying to feed their families.

Medea Benjamin is co-founder of Global Exchange and CODEPINK: Women for Peace. She is the co-author, with Nicolas J.S. Davies, of War in Ukraine: Making Sense of a Senseless Conflict, available from OR Books in November 2022.

4 April 2026

Source: countercurrents.org

By Dr. Ramzy Baroud

“Israel must immediately release Gazan doctor Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya,” UN experts said in a recent statement, in unequivocal terms.

Dr. Abu Safiya was “subjected to torture and other cruel and degrading treatment,” they said. His health condition is “dire.”

Many are already familiar with the iconic Palestinian doctor from Gaza. But the deserved and urgent focus on his case should not end with him. Rather, it should illuminate the broader catastrophe afflicting Gaza’s health sector — one deliberately dismantled as part of the ongoing genocide that began on October 7, 2023.

Palestinians and others continue to refer to the genocide as ‘ongoing’. This is not hyperbole. Though the rate of killing by bombs has decreased, the genocide remains in effect because the destruction of Gaza, and of all civilian infrastructure necessary for survival, continues to produce the same outcome: Palestinians are still dying as a direct result of the same policies.

This has affected every aspect of Palestinian life in Gaza that guarantees survival—from water and food to medical care.

Speaking at a WHO press briefing in Cairo on October 8, 2025, Dr. Hanan Balkhy, the World Health Organization’s top regional health official for the Eastern Mediterranean, laid it all on the table.

Though she spoke in institutional terms, outlining Gaza’s urgent healthcare needs, her account confirmed the scale of devastation caused by Israel’s genocide in Gaza.

Over 1,700 health workers have been killed in Gaza since the start of the genocide, she said. The majority of Gaza’s hospitals have been destroyed or rendered non-functional, with only a few partially operating. At least 455 Palestinians have died due to hunger, including 151 children, within months.

In all of the grim numbers the Gaza genocide has produced — and continues to produce — one constant stands out: for every growing number of victims, there is a corresponding number of those meant to save them who have also been killed.

Thousands of doctors, health workers, humanitarian workers, civil defense personnel, emergency responders, volunteers, charity workers, and municipal officials have been swept into the same cycle of destruction.

It could be argued that these numbers correspond to the overall scale of death in Gaza. Official figures state that over 72,000 Palestinians have been killed and more than 172,000 wounded, while independent research, including estimates published in The Lancet, suggests the true death toll may be far higher.

This argument may appear defensible. But the targeting of hospitals, the killing and wounding of doctors, and the unlawful detention and torture of health workers cannot be dismissed as a mere reflection of mass killing.

From the earliest days of the genocide, Israel placed Gaza’s hospitals at the center of its assault. On October 17, 2023, Al-Ahli Arab Hospital in Gaza was struck in one of the most horrific early massacres, followed by systematic assaults on major medical facilities, including Al-Shifa Hospital, Al-Quds Hospital, the Indonesian Hospital, and Nasser Medical Complex.

But why hospitals? Because hospitals were not only places of treatment. They were places of refuge. As tens of thousands of Palestinians sought shelter within their walls, hospitals became the last spaces where survival was still possible. To destroy them was to sever that final lifeline.

The killing of doctors, the bombing of hospitals, and the detention of medical personnel were not incidental. They formed part of a broader strategy: to render Gaza uninhabitable by dismantling the systems that sustain life.

Deprived of care, stripped of infrastructure, and denied the means to survive, Palestinians were left with fewer options — first to flee south, and ultimately, to be pushed beyond Gaza altogether.

This is why Dr. Abu Safiya has become so vital to this story.

Every Gazan doctor who refused to leave his or her post during the genocide is a hero. Every health worker who risked his or her life to save others represents a model of courage that should be emulated everywhere. And every doctor killed, wounded, or detained deserves to be remembered as the highest expression of human commitment to life.

Dr. Abu Safiya embodies all of them.

He is not unique — and that is precisely the point. He is the collective face of a medical community that refused to abandon its people, even as the system around it collapsed.

At Kamal Adwan Hospital in northern Gaza, Abu Safiya remained at his post as Israeli forces advanced on the facility, already overwhelmed by waves of wounded and displaced civilians. Despite shortages of fuel, medicine, and staff, he continued to treat patients while helping to protect those sheltering inside the hospital compound.

In the final days before his detention on December 27, 2024, he was among the last senior doctors still operating in the hospital, overseeing care under conditions that defy any conventional understanding of medical practice.

One image came to define him.

Standing amid the ruins outside Kamal Adwan Hospital, surrounded by destruction, he walked alone in his white coat toward advancing Israeli armored vehicles — a lone doctor facing a war machine. The image circulated widely because it captured, in a single frame, the reality of Gaza: those who heal standing unarmed before those who destroy.

That destruction remains in effect today, even as global attention has shifted elsewhere, compounding the danger facing a besieged Gaza. “Israel must release Dr. Abu Safiya and all healthcare workers,” said UN experts. Israel should also release all Palestinian prisoners, lift the siege, and end the genocide in its entirety.

“States have the power to end his torment,” they said. They are not wrong — and there can be no moral or legal justification for their inaction.

Dr. Ramzy Baroud is a journalist, author and the Editor of The Palestine Chronicle.

4 April 2026

Source: countercurrents.org