Turkey’s Unsettling Embrace of Hamas Leadership
Reports that senior Hamas officials expelled from Qatar have found refuge in Turkey ought to send a shiver down the spine of anyone concerned with the principles of justice and peace. This troubling development not only underscores Turkey’s willingness to act as a haven for terrorism-linked figures but also casts a long shadow over its standing as a member of NATO and an ostensible ally of the West.
Last week, Qatar, often criticised for its own murky ties to Hamas, expelled several of the group’s senior officials in what many saw as a long-overdue gesture of accountability. These individuals were directly associated with the organisation that orchestrated the October 7 atrocities—a day now seared into the memory of Israelis and the wider world. Yet, no sooner were they shown the door in Doha than they found an open one in Ankara.
This is no minor diplomatic embarrassment. Hamas is not simply another Middle Eastern faction jockeying for influence. It is a designated terrorist organisation in the United States, the European Union, and beyond, whose stated aim includes the destruction of the state of Israel. Its leaders have gloried in the horrors of October 7, boasting of the murder, rape, and abduction of innocents as though such barbarity were a badge of honour. For Turkey to host these figures now, after their actions have shocked even Hamas’s usual apologists, is a calculated affront to international norms.
Turkey’s relationship with Hamas has been a source of quiet alarm for years. Ankara has provided financial support, logistical assistance, and safe havens for operatives linked to the group. But this latest move—offering sanctuary to officials expelled in disgrace—crosses a line. It is not merely a show of solidarity with Hamas’s cause; it is a blatant signal that Turkey’s government sees no issue in aligning itself with those who unapologetically target civilians.
This creates profound implications for Turkey’s role in NATO. The alliance, built on a foundation of shared values, now faces the awkward reality of a member openly hosting terrorist leaders. While Turkey continues to demand the privileges of NATO membership, its actions increasingly undermine the alliance’s moral credibility and strategic coherence.
Moreover, this decision threatens to destabilise not only the region but also Turkey itself. Many within Turkish society are deeply uneasy with their government’s growing authoritarianism and foreign policy entanglements. Providing cover for Hamas is not only an affront to Turkey’s citizens but also a risk to its internal cohesion.
The international community must respond with more than murmurs of disapproval. NATO cannot continue to look the other way while one of its members actively undermines its principles. Diplomatic pressure, economic consequences, and perhaps even a reevaluation of Turkey’s role in the alliance must all be on the table. The West has been far too accommodating of Ankara’s duplicity for far too long.
At its core, this is not just a question of strategy or alliances—it is a matter of morality. To host the leaders of an organisation that revels in the murder of women, children, and the elderly is to make a mockery of every value that the civilised world claims to uphold. If we fail to hold Turkey accountable for such actions, we allow the principles of justice, decency, and the sanctity of human life to be trampled underfoot.
Turkey’s embrace of Hamas is a test—not just of NATO, but of the West itself. Will we tolerate the legitimisation of those who glorify terror, or will we draw a line and demand accountability? For the sake of the victims of October 7 and all who believe in the rule of law, the answer must be unequivocal.
Iran’s Cyber Assault: The Digital Frontline in Its War Against Jews
Since the unspeakable horrors of October 7, when Hamas operatives—armed, trained, and emboldened by the Islamic Republic of Iran—unleashed a massacre that stunned the civilised world, Tehran has escalated its warfare in the shadows. The battleground is no longer confined to the physical but extends to the digital realm. Cyberattacks, orchestrated by Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) and its network of proxies, have surged against both Israel and Jewish communities across the globe. This is not mere happenstance but a calculated strategy—a continuation of the regime’s longstanding mission to destabilise and intimidate.
Iran’s cyber war, increasingly brazen and sophisticated, is a tool of asymmetric warfare aimed at undermining Israel’s security and spreading unease across the Jewish diaspora. If ignored or downplayed, this digital offensive risks not only significant disruption but also the creation of very real physical dangers. The threat is not abstract; it is here, and it demands our attention.
The regime has, and that for decades, sought to export its revolutionary ideology through subversion and violence. But now, in the 21st century, its ambitions extend to cyberspace. The IRGC and its allied hacker groups—well-funded and ideologically driven—have launched a series of cyberattacks targeting Israeli government agencies, infrastructure, and financial systems. From Distributed Denial of Service (DDoS) attacks to ransomware and phishing campaigns, these actions aim to cripple systems and instil fear.
The implications, however, extend far beyond Israel’s borders. Jewish organisations and communities in Europe, North America, and beyond have found themselves under siege, with cyber intrusions aimed at extracting sensitive information, disrupting operations, and sowing chaos. These attacks, while often targeting systems, are intended to erode trust, heighten vulnerability, and even provoke physical threats by exposing personal data.
Unlike Israel, with its world-leading cybersecurity infrastructure, Jewish communities abroad often lack the resources to defend themselves against state-sponsored cyberattacks. This disparity has made them attractive targets for Tehran’s digital saboteurs. In October, a ransomware attack was attempted against a Jewish community organisation in Europe, which, had it succeeded, would have paralysed its operations and exposed sensitive member data. While thwarted, the incident highlighted just how real the threat has become.
The goal is clear: Iran seeks to intimidate and isolate Jewish communities, portraying them as inseparably tied to Israel and, therefore, as legitimate targets of its ideological war. By hacking membership lists or infiltrating communications, Tehran’s proxies can amplify paranoia and mistrust, creating divisions within communities and between them and their host nations.
This cyber onslaught is not merely about disruption; it is part of Iran’s broader propaganda effort. By framing its cyberattacks as part of a “resistance” campaign, Tehran hopes to legitimise its actions in the eyes of its supporters. Disturbingly, some elements in the West—whether through ignorance or wilful complicity—continue to echo this rhetoric. Every slogan shouted in support of Hamas, every blind eye turned to Iran’s human rights abuses, feeds the regime’s delusion that its cyber warfare, like its physical violence, can proceed with impunity.
The implications are grave. As Tehran exports its digital aggression, the narrative it constructs finds fertile ground in public discourse, masking the regime’s true intentions and obscuring the real victims: the Jewish communities targeted by its campaigns.
Israeli Actors in Netflix’s ‘Mary’: Art Under Fire from Ideological Boycotts
In a casting choice that champions authenticity, Netflix’s upcoming biblical drama, Mary, features two Israeli actors, Noa Cohen and Ido Tako, as Mary and Joseph. Joining Hollywood legend Sir Anthony Hopkins as King Herod, these young actors bring a striking realism to a story that holds deep historical and cultural resonance. With a release date set for December 6, the film promises to offer a new look at the journey of Mary and Joseph as they escape the tyranny of King Herod to protect their son. Yet, even before it’s premiered, Mary has attracted a familiar and troubling backlash.
Director D.J. Caruso has shared that the decision to cast Israeli actors was not a box-ticking exercise but rather a deliberate choice grounded in their talent and suitability for the roles. Speaking with Entertainment Weekly, he explained, “We auditioned around 75 young women, and somewhere in the middle of that process, Noa stood out. From her first cold audition, we knew she was the one.” For Caruso, Cohen’s performance brought the necessary grace, strength, and vulnerability to the role. In her, and in Tako, he saw an authenticity and depth that elevated the film’s narrative.
But in the increasingly fraught realm of public opinion, this casting decision has drawn criticism, reviving age-old arguments against the inclusion of Israeli and Jewish artists on the global stage. The demand for their exclusion has, quite remarkably, come to seem almost routine—a regrettable reminder of how deep-rooted biases find modern echoes under the banner of "boycott."
Such calls for cultural exclusion are hardly new, and they raise uncomfortable questions. In this particular case, one can’t help but wonder why the participation of Israeli actors in a film as culturally significant as Mary should attract such ire. After all, this is a narrative of faith, of resilience in the face of oppression, and, dare I say it, of hope. What more suitable figures than young Israelis—part of a people whose history has been shaped by exile, survival, and renewal?
The argument against casting Israeli actors often comes cloaked in political language, masking what is, at its core, a deeply ideological stance. In recent years, the cultural boycott of Israelis has become fashionable in certain quarters, dressed up as a stance against "oppression" but with little regard for the irony that such demands place on artists merely because of their nationality or ethnicity. This is not a political debate; it is the revival of an old animosity, one that has always sought to isolate and ostracise the Jewish people by labelling their presence itself as problematic.
For Noa Cohen, Ido Tako, and other Israeli actors in Mary, their presence in this film speaks to the power of art to transcend borders, to create a space where human experience can be shared and celebrated. It’s a powerful message, and one that, quite frankly, ought to be welcomed, not shunned. The story of Mary and Joseph, particularly one anchored in their flight from persecution, is a universal one. It belongs to no single culture, but to all humanity. To demand exclusion on the grounds of nationality is not only petty; it’s a disservice to the very nature of storytelling itself.
As Mary arrives on our screens this December, let’s resist the tired calls for boycott and instead recognise the tremendous talent and humanity these actors bring to their roles. Let us honour the film’s message and appreciate it as a reminder of our shared history and resilience. In doing so, we uphold the principle that art should unite us, not divide us—because, ultimately, to give in to such boycotts is to give in to the very intolerance they claim to oppose.
A Dangerous Climate: Rising Threats Against Israelis and France’s Jewish Community
Following the recent outbreak of violence in Amsterdam, France is taking no chances as it prepares for the upcoming football match against Israel's national football team this Thursday. In a highly unusual move, 4,000 police officers will be deployed to secure the event, a reflection of the growing risk facing Israelis and France’s Jewish community. This escalation is not without cause. The troubling scenes in Amsterdam reveal a disturbing reality: violence against Jewish communities and Israelis is being rationalised, justified, and increasingly normalised under the guise of “resistance” or “support” for the Palestinian cause.
This phenomenon is not merely alarming—it is profoundly dangerous. Across Europe, what should have been peaceful protests in support of the Palestinian cause have instead devolved into riots, assaults, and vicious expressions of anti-Zionism. The notion that support for a cause, no matter how just one might feel it to be, could legitimise attacks on Jews or Israelis ought to be unthinkable. Yet here we are. The French government’s decision to secure a football match with a small army of police officers is an unsettling admission of the climate we now find ourselves in—a climate where the safety of Jewish communities can no longer be assumed, and where threats must be met with heavy security.
The tragedy here is twofold. First, it represents a complete collapse of the line between lawful protest and outright incitement. The notion of protest, of speaking out against perceived injustices, is one of the cornerstones of democratic society. But what we are seeing is not protest. It is something far darker. It is a rationalisation of violence, dressed up as resistance. We are witnessing, across Europe, the emergence of a mindset that sees attacks on Jews and Israelis as somehow morally defensible, as if their very identity makes them a fair target.
Second, and perhaps even more disturbingly, this moral abdication is increasingly accepted as reasonable. The tragic reality is that this form of violence is not just escalating; it is being excused. When violence against Israelis and Jews is justified as “support” for the Palestinian cause, it sets a terrifying precedent. It suggests that violence in support of a “noble” cause is somehow different, somehow tolerable. This is, of course, utter nonsense. Violence is violence. Hate is hate. And what we are seeing now, justified as it may be by some, is nothing less than a revival of the oldest hatred—dressed up for modern times, but no less dangerous.
The implications are enormous. The more violence is rationalised in this manner, the more it is unleashed upon not just Jews but anyone who falls afoul of these twisted standards. If Jewish people and Israelis can be targeted today, why not others tomorrow? Allowing the rationalisation of violence against one group erodes the very bedrock of a peaceful society. For a continent that has prided itself on tolerance, this growing trend represents nothing short of a betrayal of its core values.
And here we find ourselves, with thousands of police officers mobilised to prevent mayhem at a football match—a scene that should be one of sporting camaraderie but now stands as a symbol of Europe’s failure to confront a rising tide of hatred. The real question is this: how did we get to a point where mass security measures are required simply to protect Jewish fans from violent mobs? What does it say about Europe that we accept this as the new normal?
This moment demands a response. Europeans cannot stand idly by, offering weak condemnations and platitudes about peace. It is time to name this trend for what it is: a perverse rationalisation of violence, a willingness to justify attacks on Jews and Israelis in the name of political “solidarity.” The world has seen this before, and we know where it leads. We should have learned by now that excusing violence for any reason, no matter how noble it may seem, is a slippery slope.
Europe faces a choice: will it defend the principles of tolerance, safety, and dignity for all its citizens, or will it look the other way as ancient prejudices are revived under the guise of modern “resistance”? The answer to this question will shape the future of Jewish communities across Europe and beyond. If we do not act now to reaffirm the basic right of Jewish communities to live in peace, we will face a bleak future indeed.
The truth is simple: peace and security cannot be conditional. The violence we are witnessing against Jewish communities is indefensible, and it is the duty of all decent people to condemn it in the strongest terms. If we believe in a Europe that upholds the rights of all its citizens, then we must stand against this hatred without hesitation. If we fail to do so, we risk allowing the darkest parts of history to repeat themselves. Europe must decide what kind of continent it wishes to be, and time is running out to make that decision.
The Urgent Need for Curriculum Reform in Palestinian Schools
The events of October 7 served as a tragic reminder of a long-standing issue that has been ignored for far too long: the radicalisation of Palestinian youth, which begins, all too often, in the classroom. For years, the Palestinian Authority’s education system has faced accusations of inciting hatred and glorifying violence. These concerns are not new. However, as the international community now confronts the horrifying implications of a generation raised on anti-Israel indoctrination, it has become painfully clear that the issue of Palestinian textbooks can no longer be dismissed as a minor detail.
Recently, Luxembourg’s Foreign Minister, Xavier Bettel, took a rare stand, confronting officials from the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) over the presence of incitement and glorification of terrorism in Palestinian schoolbooks. In a moment of frustration, Bettel held up a textbook and challenged the official: “UNRWA is not neutral on education if they teach this. It’s in the book… If I want to defend you, help me to defend you.” His remarks encapsulate a problem that has been festering within Palestinian society for years. As long as the education system promotes a culture of hate, any claims of neutrality or innocence by UNRWA and the Palestinian Authority are nothing more than a façade.
IMPACT-se, an organisation that monitors educational content worldwide, has documented anti-Israel indoctrination in Palestinian textbooks for years. The problem isn’t subtle; it is blatant. These books erase Israel from maps, deny any Jewish connection to the land, and glorify “martyrdom” as a noble pursuit. According to IMPACT-se’s CEO, Marcus Sheff, what happened on October 7 is the direct result of an education system that instils hatred and celebrates violence. In his view, tackling the problem at its root requires a complete overhaul of the curriculum—anything less would be a band-aid on a deeply embedded wound.
Beyond the Classroom Walls: A Need for Societal Change
It is, of course, tempting to believe that revising a few textbooks will fix the problem. But as Dr. Michael Milshtein of the Moshe Dayan Center has pointed out, real change will demand more than just altering language on a page. According to Milshtein, Palestinian society needs to engage in the kind of national introspection that Germany undertook after 1945—a genuine reckoning with past actions, ideologies, and goals. The desire to reform, he argues, must come from within Palestinian society, and there is, at present, little evidence of this. Simply removing offensive phrases or violent imagery from textbooks does nothing if the society that reads them remains rooted in enmity and resentment.
In Gaza, where Hamas controls much of the informal education, this challenge is compounded. With over 80% of Gaza’s schools destroyed or turned into makeshift shelters, teaching often takes place in tents under the authority of teachers loyal to Hamas or UNRWA. These teachers remain largely unregulated and free to instil in their students the same glorification of “martyrdom” and jihad. Without a fundamental change in Palestinian society—a willingness to reject the ideology that valorises violence—there is little hope that revised textbooks will make any real difference.
The Role of International Pressure and the Path Forward
For years, the European Parliament and other international bodies have called for reform in Palestinian education, with some conditioning aid on the removal of antisemitic and violent content. But the Palestinian Authority has made only token adjustments, while the essential content of incitement remains intact. This problem has existed for so long that some leaders in East Jerusalem have resorted to placing blank stickers over inflammatory sections of textbooks. The absurdity of this “solution” is evident: Palestinian students reportedly keep two sets of books—one “censored” version for show, and another, unaltered, for the classroom. Such efforts fall laughably short of addressing the real problem.
There are, however, some examples in the region that provide a glimmer of hope. The United Arab Emirates, for example, has introduced Holocaust education into its curriculum, and Saudi Arabia, Morocco, and Egypt have removed antisemitic passages from school materials. These changes demonstrate that where there is political will, reform is possible. But will there be any such will within Palestinian leadership? According to Sheff, “Countries change their curricula because they understand it’s for the good of their society.” Yet the Palestinian Authority has shown little interest in reforming a curriculum that serves its political agenda.
If the international community truly seeks peace, it must recognise the critical role that education plays in shaping future generations. The textbooks Palestinian children read today are the prism through which they view their neighbours tomorrow. A society cannot claim to seek peace while its youngest minds are raised on a steady diet of hate and martyrdom.
The time has come for the world to demand more than hollow promises and superficial changes. Palestinian leaders must be held accountable for an education system that incites hatred rather than hope, violence rather than coexistence. At We Believe in Israel, we believe that the first step towards genuine peace is an education system grounded in truth, tolerance, and respect for all. Anything less is a betrayal of those children and a disservice to the prospects of a future without bloodshed.
Reforming Palestinian education is no longer an option—it is a necessity. Until Palestinian textbooks reflect a commitment to peace, the prospect of peace itself will remain tragically out of reach.
Antisemitic Violence Unleashed on Israeli Football Fans in Amsterdam
On the evening of November 7, 2024, following a Europa League match between Maccabi Tel Aviv and Ajax, Israeli football fans in Amsterdam found themselves the targets of what can only be described as an orchestrated campaign of antisemitic violence. Masked gangs hunted down these supporters across the city, chanting “Free Palestine” as they cornered, assaulted, and harassed Israelis wherever they could find them. Dutch police forces, despite their visible presence, appeared woefully inadequate in the face of this mob mentality.
Casualties and Immediate Impact
The consequences were swift and brutal: at least ten Israelis were injured, three remain unaccounted for, and hundreds more were left confined to their hotels, fearing further violence if they dared to leave. Amsterdam’s police, acknowledging their struggle to contain this outburst of antisemitism, found themselves escorting groups of Israeli fans to safety wherever possible. The Dutch authorities are now grappling with the magnitude of this violent episode, announcing an investigation alongside additional police patrols, particularly around Jewish institutions within the city.
Official Responses and Diplomatic Reaction
Both Israeli and Dutch leaders swiftly condemned these disgraceful scenes, branding them for what they were: unprovoked antisemitic attacks directed at Israeli citizens. Initially, Israel considered deploying military aircraft to evacuate its citizens from Amsterdam but subsequently decided to back civil aviation efforts to bring its people home. The Israeli Foreign Ministry, working closely with Dutch officials, advised all Israeli nationals to stay put in their hotels until authorities could guarantee their safety. Extra police units have since been deployed, especially around Jewish community sites, to address security concerns in the days following the attacks.
Tensions and Escalation
Amidst the general pandemonium, videos emerged on social media indicating heightened tensions on both sides. While Israeli supporters largely bore the brunt of the violence, isolated incidents showed a small number of Israeli fans engaging in provocative chants against Arabs and Palestinians earlier in the day. Pro-Palestinian activists predictably seized upon these moments, alleging that Israeli fans had instigated the hostilities. This tit-for-tat of blame, however, does nothing to obscure the organised nature of the attacks carried out against Israelis across Amsterdam that night.
Police Response and Public Safety Measures
In response to this grotesque eruption of hatred, Amsterdam’s police arrested 62 individuals connected to the unrest. Riot police were stationed at key sites, including the Johan Cruyff Arena, to prevent further escalations. In one notable incident, a Palestinian flag was reportedly torn down from a building, adding another layer of tension between pro-Palestinian activists and Israeli supporters. Law enforcement officials decried the violence against Israeli fans as “unacceptable,” promising to conduct a comprehensive investigation into this shameful episode.
WBII’s Position and the Wider Implications
This incident is emblematic of a disturbing trend: antisemitic incidents on the rise across Europe, with those bearing the Star of David increasingly facing hostility and violence. It underscores the need for robust security measures for Israelis and Jews abroad, as well as a serious re-evaluation of public safety protocols in Europe’s major cities. WBII regards this particular incident with the gravest concern, seeing it as symptomatic of a much larger malaise—a European society still shockingly susceptible to the kind of raw, hate-filled antisemitism that one might have thought confined to the history books.
As this incident painfully illustrates, there is no place in any civilised society for such brazen acts of hatred. The Netherlands, like the rest of Europe, must not allow this kind of barbarism to fester under the guise of political protest. WBII will continue to monitor these events closely, lending our voice to the chorus that demands accountability and insisting upon protections for all at risk. This is not merely about the safety of Israeli football fans; it is about the foundational principles of security, dignity, and decency that must be upheld in any society worth the name.
400 Days of Captivity: The Israeli Hostages Forgotten by the World
400 Days of Captivity: The Israeli Hostages Forgotten by the World
Today, we arrive at a grim milestone: 400 days since Hamas took Israeli civilians hostage, and 400 days in which the world has watched with scarcely a murmur of objection. These hostages—fathers, mothers, children—have been denied not only their freedom but their very humanity, erased from our collective consciousness and, in the eyes of political leaders and diplomats, reduced to mere statistics.
It is a tragedy of monstrous proportions that these individuals, who committed no crime but were simply caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, have become almost invisible, abstracted into numbers and forgotten in the endless churn of geopolitics. They are no longer people, it seems, but pawns—conveniently ignored, easily discarded, left to languish in silence while those in power turn away, consumed by diplomatic platitudes and the cold calculus of political manoeuvring.
In the hands of Hamas, these civilians are not hostages in the conventional sense. They are instruments of terror, kept hidden and silent, their humanity stripped, their suffering exploited to extract concessions or project an image of unyielding resistance. It is a grotesque spectacle, one that should evoke the strongest condemnation. And yet, the world’s response has been largely one of studied indifference, a refusal to look too closely, lest we be forced to confront the ugliness of a tactic that flies in the face of every basic principle of human rights and decency.
To the families of these hostages, the silence is deafening. They are left to endure a torment that most of us could scarcely imagine: days, months, now over a year, with no word, no hope, and no end in sight. These families are not merely waiting; they are in a state of suspended agony, forced to watch as the lives of their loved ones are dismissed as collateral damage in a conflict that cares little for individual lives.
And where are the politicians? Those champions of human rights, those defenders of liberty who are so quick to raise their voices for causes deemed fashionable or politically expedient? They are conspicuously absent. For too many, these hostages are just a footnote, an inconvenient distraction from the comfortable narratives that dominate public discourse. In the diplomatic circles where human lives are weighed and measured, these hostages have ceased to exist as individuals. They are merely numbers on a list, a bargaining chip to be traded if and when it serves someone’s interests.
The world’s indifference to this suffering is nothing short of complicity. Every day that these hostages are left in captivity without a global outcry is a day in which we, as a society, turn our backs on the fundamental values we claim to uphold. Their humanity, their dignity, their right to freedom—these are not privileges to be granted or withheld based on political convenience. They are the very essence of what it means to be human, and the fact that they have been so readily denied should be a source of profound shame for all of us.
Let this 400th day not pass in silence. Let it be a moment of reckoning, a reminder that the lives of these hostages are worth more than the empty rhetoric of politicians and the cynicism of diplomacy. Their plight should not be forgotten or ignored, and we must not allow them to become mere statistics in a world too willing to sacrifice human lives at the altar of expedience.
It is time for those who care about human dignity, who believe in justice and the sanctity of life, to demand the immediate and unconditional release of these hostages. Anything less is an insult to their humanity and to the principles we hold dear. Let us not look away. Let us not let these people be forgotten, for to forget them is to lose a piece of our own humanity.
Our Hostages Are the World’s Responsibility, Too
As the world looks on, hostages held in the darkness of captivity await a freedom that only collective human will can bring. They are ours—our family, friends, and compatriots—yet their cries and suffering belong to the conscience of every human being. To abandon them to silence is to surrender our humanity, to concede a part of our shared moral core, and it is this inaction, this resignation, that looms now as one of the most appalling aspects of the modern world. This cannot, must not, be our legacy—a world that, when faced with the suffering of innocents, turned a deaf ear and averted its gaze.
We speak now with urgency because the silence has taken on a life of its own. It has grown louder with every passing day, and the absence of action from the international community speaks volumes. Every day that passes in silence only solidifies a narrative that we should all dread—a narrative of a world willing to consign innocent lives to oblivion, the helpless to powerlessness, the absent to nothingness. This is a travesty that cuts deeper than politics, deeper than diplomacy. This is about humanity at its core, about recognising that our humanity is intertwined with the safety and freedom of others.
Our hostages are not merely ours; they belong to the human family. The horror of their captivity reflects upon us all, just as the injustice of their treatment marks a failure of all civilised society. These people—ordinary men and women—are not abstractions, not statistics to be weighed in some political calculus. They are individuals who were once part of a life much like yours or mine, engaged in the beautiful mundanity of existence—living, working, loving, contributing to their communities. Their lives have been interrupted, violently ripped from the steady rhythms of daily life, and they are caught in a nightmare that should haunt every one of us.
What is at stake here is more than the question of one state or another; it is a question of human decency and of the most basic principles that bind us together. The world’s silence here is not benign. It is not passive. It is complicity in its most devastating form, and every moment it persists, it erodes a portion of our collective soul. To leave our hostages to languish in silence is to concede to an idea that innocent lives can be bartered, their freedom a price deemed too inconvenient or too fraught with political peril.
This silence carries a weight, a horrifying implication. It says that the lives of innocents are not worth the disruption of diplomatic norms. It says that, faced with suffering, the world would rather retreat into hollow words and leave real actions unattempted. And so, with every day that this silence persists, the hostages slip further from view, their names become harder to recall, and they are gradually absorbed into the shadows.
But let us be very clear: this is not how we wish to be remembered, nor how we will allow ourselves to be remembered. The act of abandoning the innocent to such a fate is a stain that time cannot easily erase. We do not want history to look back on this moment as a time when nations allowed bureaucratic paralysis to stifle action, when governments allowed political expediency to overshadow humanity. We are calling on the world to refuse this path, to remember that each of these hostages has a face, a story, a voice that has been unjustly stilled.
It is not enough to decry their captivity in words alone; concrete actions must be taken, actions that demonstrate a commitment to justice, to life, and to the fundamental rights we claim to uphold. We ask, therefore, for a unified demand from the international community—a demand that these captives are brought home, that families are reunited, that innocence is protected. We need more than statements of sympathy; we need sanctions, we need diplomatic leverage, we need the world’s great powers to stand shoulder to shoulder in unwavering defiance of this injustice.
Because in the end, the plight of these hostages represents more than a single event. It strikes at the heart of what it means to be civilised, of what it means to value life and to defend the vulnerable. Every day that they remain in captivity, our silence grows more chilling, and our collective responsibility becomes more profound. The world must act, not only for these individuals but for the sake of all that is decent and just. The hostages’ lives are a testament to the sanctity of innocence, and our response must be nothing less than a testament to our humanity.
Let this be the moment where we say, with one voice, that we will not allow the innocent to be abandoned. Let us be remembered not for our silence but for our action, for our insistence on justice, and for our dedication to the lives of those who have been so brutally taken from us. These hostages are more than symbols; they are our fellow human beings, deserving of every effort, of every ounce of will we can muster to bring them home.
#BringThemHome
The Israeli Electoral System: Explained
EXPLAINED
THE ISRAELI ELECTORAL SYSTEM
Israel has only one house in its legislature, the Knesset. Elected representatives are referred to as MKs, Members of the Knesset.
The voting system is entirely proportional, and the number of seats is directly related to the number of votes each party gets.
Just as in the UK, Israelis over the age of 18 vote for 120 seats in the Knesset on a paper ballot.
Citizens vote for the list of candidates put forward by the party of their choice rather than an individual. The system is designed to produce a coalition with the goal of producing more political consensus.
A single party has never achieved an outright majority of 61.
The largest number of seats a single party has got in an election was the Alignment party (now part of Labor) in 1969 with 56 seats.
This proportional system ensures that the political, religious and ethnic diversity of Israeli society is represented in the legislature.
However, this system can give small parties an outsized influence as they often hold the balance of power.
There is a “threshold” of 3.25% which parties have to reach to get any seats, the most recent election in 2022 was affected by a leftwing party and an Arab party both just missing this bar and losing all their MKs.
As the government is made up of many political parties with competing priorities, the governments often aren't very stable.
Between 2018 and 2022 there were 5 snap elections in four years.
Whilst this system does keep politicians in tune with the needs of Israeli people, it does make long term policy change difficult. As the system is entirely proportional, there are no constituencies. Individuals who want to get in touch with an elected representative would simply choose any of the 120 MKs to approach.
New campaign calling on the UK to ban the political wing of Hamas
https://www.israelbritain.org.uk/wbbanhamas/
I am sure you will be surprised and disappointed to hear that the British Government only proscribes the military wing of Hamas, and that its political wing is not banned by the UK.
Please join our campaign with IBA to change this and get Hamas banned in its entirety in the UK by using this link to email your MP and the Home Secretary:
https://www.israelbritain.org.uk/wbbanhamas/
Since 2006 has been responsible for igniting four major conflicts and the death of more than six thousand civilians.
Hamas has committed a multitude of war crimes: the direct and indiscriminate targeting of civilian populations, use of human shields, enlistment of children and hostage-taking.
The military and political infrastructures of Hamas are inseparable. However, in 2001 The Home Office proscribed only its military wing as a terror group, leaving its so-called political wing operating freely.
By contrast, Hamas has been outlawed in its entirety by other nations including Canada, the USA and Japan.
Consequently, the UK has become a safe harbour for Hamas to operate in, spreading its hateful antisemitic ideology with impunity.
The biggest losers from our government’s failure to proscribe Hamas in its entirety are the people of Gaza who are living under its oppression.
Allowing Hamas’ political wing to operate in the UK serves to legitimise the organisation.
Join the campaign to get it banned here: https://www.israelbritain.org.uk/wbbanhamas/
Please share the link with your friends and family by email, Facebook and Twitter.
Please note that the system depends on you entering your postcode to find your address and MP. Type in your postcode slowly – do not allow it to autocomplete – and a list of addresses will appear that you can pick your address from.