Please note: this article was written in 2021, before Alexey Navalny’s death in detention (2024).

Starting from 2009, a new opposition figure emerged in Russia, gaining attention for his staunch anti-corruption stance: Alexei Navalny. Here is a brief look at the career of an ambitious man whose reputation as a liberal does not quite match the substance of his ideology.

If there is one thing that unites Russians, it is their chronic aversion to corruption. Popular culture, comedians, cinema, and music openly mock and criticize corruption—whether by the police, oligarchs, or high-ranking officials (chinovniki)—as well as its presence at every level of Russian society. The most common manifestations include bribes (vzyatki) paid to traffic police for often fabricated offenses, or gifts in kind to teachers and instructors to secure a diploma. Even Kremlin-approved comedians do not hesitate to ridicule Vladimir Putin himself, often in front of audiences made up of the very people who are the biggest accomplices and beneficiaries of his corrupt system. They are the modern-day “court jesters.”

Russian social life is indeed riddled with corruption, and promises to eradicate it are the rallying cry of every opposition figure, including so-called “paper opponents” like Vladimir Zhirinovsky, the infamous ultra-conservative populist leader who regularly makes headlines by mocking the inconsistencies of those in power. Yet, he has never faced physical repercussions for his public statements, which help maintain the illusion of pluralism that Putin has carefully cultivated since he was crowned tsar of all the Russias.

Starting in 2009, a new opposition figure emerged in Russia, gaining attention for his staunch anti-corruption stance: Alexei Navalny, then an advisor to the governor of Kirov. Over the next decade, he became the only credible opposition to Putin, running in Moscow’s municipal elections and later in presidential elections, all while facing numerous judicial summonses designed to break his resolve.

If one were to compare Navalny to other political leaders fiercely opposed to corruption (at least while in opposition), one might look to Ukraine’s Petro Poroshenko, Yulia Tymoshenko, or Vitali Klitschko. All three campaigned for power on promises to end endemic corruption, basking in the aura of integrity that surrounds populist leaders opposing dictatorship—only to later lose their way in the labyrinth of ambition and cronyism.

A conservative political background

A brief look at Alexei Navalny’s platform is enough to see that his politics draw inspiration from the ultra-liberal doctrines that, since the 1970s, have championed individualism and competition while dismantling social protections and public services wherever they are imposed by force. Navalny thus follows directly in the footsteps of Thatcher, Reagan, and Sarkozy, and his political program is virtually identical to Macron’s: promises of growth, privatization, the expansion of self-employment, tax exemptions for small businesses, a technological gamble, deregulation of transport, increased military budgets and personnel, and the regionalization and decentralization of government…

There is nothing innovative or progressive in Navalny’s approach, which merely reproduces the precepts that have repeatedly brought populations to their knees under the harsh prescriptions of market economics—enforced by the World Trade Organization, the World Bank, and the International Monetary Fund—around the world. Beyond his neoliberal aspirations, Navalny is also a nationalist. Russian realists will argue that one must be a nationalist (or at least a patriot, if you prefer) to win the hearts of Russians. This is not entirely untrue. But it also condemns Russian society to be endlessly overtaken by its reactionary demons—where racism, homophobia, Islamophobia, and antisemitism are openly tolerated.

Navalny makes no secret of having co-founded the “Narod” movement (transl. “The People”) in 2007, whose principles and values are deeply rooted in the far right. His political platform includes opposition to immigration, and in his speeches, he does not hesitate to associate foreigners with crime. He regularly downplays the dangers of far-right extremism and nationalism in Russia, echoing Vladimir Putin’s positions on Crimea and the Caucasus, regions with Muslim majorities. Having forged multiple alliances with ultranationalists and proudly participating in the annual “Russian March,” he advocates for “national renewal,” speaks of “national betrayal,” “organic unity with the past,” and “Russian civilization,” and supports the expulsion of foreigners “who do not respect our laws and traditions” and the imposition of visa requirements for citizens of the former USSR—specifically those from Central Asia, whose communities are the primary targets of racism in Russia.

In a 2008 blog post, Navalny referred to immigrant workers as “metics” (tchutchmeki), suggesting that one could understand the violence of skinheads against them when hearing them “hammering metal with an infernal roar at dawn.” He has also published articles on his platform insulting Jews and people from Central Asia and the Caucasus. Furthermore, Navalny’s program calls for the decriminalization of Article 282 of the penal code, which punishes “incitement to hatred or discrimination, as well as offenses against human dignity,” advocates amnesty for Russian soldiers involved in the Chechen wars, and supports the widespread right to bear arms in the name of “self-defense.”

Popularity among the “White Russian” diaspora

Navalny left the social-liberal Yabloko party in 2007 due to his ties with the nationalist right. Yet, many of those now taking to the streets outside Russia to demand his release and protest Putin’s regime were predominantly Yabloko voters in elections over the past decade. Today, widespread frustration with the authoritarian status quo imposed by Putin—at the expense of both the Russian people and a small bourgeoisie with few opportunities—combined with Navalny’s effective communication, has led Russian liberals to rally behind this new “herald of democracy.”

For several years now, Navalny’s YouTube channel has been releasing incisive investigative reports exposing the “Putin system,” denouncing its corruption and violence with rigorous, hard-to-dispute evidence: the facts speak for themselves. Navalny does what no one else has dared to do, because in Russia, speaking the truth can cost you your life. Over the past two decades, numerous opposition figures have been assassinated: Anna Politkovskaya, Natalya Estemirova, Stanislav Markelov, Anastasia Baburova, Boris Nemtsov, Alexander Litvinenko, Paul Klebnikov, Sergei Magnitsky, Sergei Yushenko, Mikhail Beket, and others. Still more, such as Sergei Udaltsov or the anarchist activists convicted in the “Network” case and the dismantling of the “Narodnaya Samooborona” (People’s Self-Defense) social network, have been tortured and/or imprisoned in labor camps for allegedly threatening state security. Navalny himself was poisoned, as were Vladimir Kara-Murza, Viktor Yushchenko, Alexander Litvinenko, and Sergei Skripal before him…

In Europe, particularly in France, a significant portion of the Russian diaspora hails from the bourgeois or even aristocratic classes—the so-called “White Russians”—who fled to France after the 1917 Revolution and later Stalinism (an estimated 400,000 in France at the time, including 150,000 in the Paris region). On one of the diaspora’s Facebook pages, “Russkie v Parizhe” (Russians in Paris), which counts 40,000 members, one finds a mix of posts about the “good life” in Paris—luxury, fine dining, cultural outings, rental and job listings—as well as revealing exchanges and comments on how this diaspora views itself within French society, and by extension, the contemporary world. There, one often criticizes insecurity and dirt, rails against immigration and social movements, complains about public transport and bureaucracy (both French and Russian)—all fertile ground for the ideas espoused by someone like Navalny…

In the family and social circles of this exiled elite, revolution is hardly held in high regard, and left-wing revolutionary ideas even less so. Instead, there is a preference for liberal entrepreneurs with a youthful, charismatic image, such as Nemtsov or Navalny, or even for romantic rogues and libertarian gentleman thieves like Pyotr Pavlensky (though his reputation is more predatory than romantic) or Eduard Limonov, the former founder of the red-brown “National Bolshevik” movement, whose provocative, iconoclastic performances owe more to artistic shock value than to any coherent political project. The populist audacity of these “provocateurs” naturally earns the admiration and support of a diaspora that viscerally despises Putin’s austere, vulgar regime—a regime built on the ruins of the USSR by recycling Soviet-era bureaucrats.

The spirit that animates these “paper dissidents” is liberal, even libertarian, driven by the aesthetic mirage of free enterprise, which promises—sooner or later—to allow them to build and invest their European gains back in their home country, without having to contend with the mafia or Putin’s intractable police bureaucracy.

A binary understanding of the world

This mindset, shaped by the idea of change initiated through social media—naively reformist and deeply hostile to any form of revolutionary violence—has come to dream of a world where Good would naturally triumph over Evil. If one subscribes to this binary and candid worldview, which never questions capitalism as a system of oppression, it is hardly surprising to find oneself supporting a Navalny or a Poroshenko simply because they represent the only visible, demonstrative opposition to Putin, and to overlook the potential consequences of this “default” choice: the perpetuation of the very system that produced and promoted them. Navalny, of course, enjoys the backing of all the major Western democracies, with Emmanuel Macron’s France at the forefront. But is the choice really between Macron and Putin?

Meanwhile, a significant portion of the Russian people—many of whom believe Putin is not responsible for the social ills plaguing the country and who vote for him, beyond the very real election rigging designed to inflate the “consent rate”—nonetheless yearn for change. They blame an oligarchy of businessmen and high-ranking officials, whom no one dares to name, even though a closer look reveals most to be close associates of the president or their proxies. One doesn’t need Navalny’s self-promotional videos to see this.

Widespread frustration and endemic social chaos are driving more and more Russians into the streets whenever calls to protest spread on social media, only to be met with massive police repression (3,500 arrests on Saturday, January 23, 2021, mostly in Moscow and St. Petersburg) and extremely harsh judicial sentences. Yet, these movements remain far from achieving the hoped-for overthrow, and as long as this revolt stays superficial, Putin’s power will not waver. It is built on a repressive apparatus now a century old. Navalny in power would only change the roof and repaint the facades; the foundations and pillars would remain the same…

Some Russian dissidents in exile—political refugees, not the well-behaved students of the diaspora—attempted to expose this charade with humor during the Brussels rally for Navalny. The young liberals shouted “Shame on you!” at them: https://mobile.twitter.com/pepel_klaasa/status/1353004265489498112?s=09 

As for political pluralism and criticism under a Navalny regime, the outlook is bleak…

“Jay alek el door ya doctor”

In 2011, it all began when schoolchildren in Deraa (in the far south of Syria), inspired by the uprisings in other Arab countries, dared to dream of the tyrant of Damascus stepping down—Bashar al-Assad. Ironical slogans blossomed on the city’s walls, among them the one that enraged the president most: “Jay alek el door ya doctor” (“Your turn is coming, doctor”—Bashar al-Assad is an ophthalmologist).

Arrested and tortured by Bashar’s henchmen, the children of Deraa unwittingly ignited one of the most beautiful moments of revolt the country had ever known. Across Syria, massive demonstrations erupted. We remember the magnificent messages of hope sent week after week to the entire world by the residents of Kafranbel, barely an hour from Idlib—now the heart of the cyclone, bombarded daily by tons of explosives stamped with the seal of Russian and Western merchants of death.

We remember thousands of people dancing in the glare of floodlights to defy the curfew, and we can still hear ringing in our ears the chants launched by the two birds of the revolution, Ibrahim Qachouch and Abdel-Basset al-Sarout: “Yalla irhal ya Bashar” (“Come on, get out, Bashar”).

The fate of these two men encapsulates what followed. The first was arrested and tortured as early as 2011 by Bashar’s mukhabarat (intelligence services) and shabiha (henchmen), his vocal cords torn out. The second died in June 2019 from his wounds after fighting alongside rebels in the Hama region. Bashar’s torturers also crushed the hands of the cartoonist Ali Ferzat before leaving him for dead by the side of a road.

The revolt of 2011 was annihilated in terror and blood. Images—such as the 45,000 photographs taken by the photographer Caesar and smuggled to Europe by this former regime soldier turned defector—laid bare the regime’s barbarity for the world to see. The uprising fell silent, and those who chose armed struggle continue to be crushed beneath bombs in the north of the country. Many joined Islamist groups, while the least sectarian and most selfless, completely isolated, no longer interest anyone.

With the crushing of the Islamic State (a victory made possible by the armed intervention of the Kurds in the north and the Druze in the south), followed by the Turkish offensive, the ceasefire and joint Turkish-Russian patrols, the pawns placed here and there by the United States and Europe (through NGOs and agreements imposed on the Kurds), and the quiet invasion of Syrian territory by Russian forces and Hezbollah (with Bashar’s consent—perhaps believing this would secure his power and safety), Damascus now seems isolated at the center of a vast country where the president, with his small empty head perched on a long neck, controls very little anymore.

What has fundamentally changed is that he no longer enjoys the same footing as before. For several weeks now, a fratricidal conflict has pitted him against his cousin Rami Makhlouf, and everywhere the Russians occupy the territory—including Kurdish regions—as if they were slowly preparing to take full control of the country. And stubbornly, Bashar continues to flatten the north under bombs, as though his power still depended on it.

“Yalla irhal ya Bashar!”

But in 2020, the combination of international sanctions and the pandemic brought an end to years of resignation and fear: Syrians are starving.

Since the beginning of the year, the Syrian pound has suffered an unprecedented collapse. From 500 pounds per dollar in January 2020, the exchange rate passed the 3,000-pound mark on June 8. In one year, the currency lost 130 percent of its value. The price of onions rose by 97 percent in two months; lentils by 64 percent; bread by 54 percent; flour by 46 percent; pasta by 44 percent; and rice by 33 percent. With an average salary of 30,000 pounds and a family meal costing between 3,000 and 5,000 pounds for a typical household (two or three children), a full month’s wage barely covers food for ten days at the rate of one meal per day. Some families can no longer even afford olive oil or tea. Grocers now choose to open only a few hours a day, unsure what prices to charge as the dollar climbs by 200 Syrian pounds daily. Banks are beginning to shut down their ATMs.

Since Friday, at first timidly and then with growing fervor, the population has once again dared to defy the authorities, taking to the streets and chanting the refrain that so infuriated the idiot who has served as Syria’s president for far too long: “Yalla irhal ya Bashar!”

Those who, in their cynicism and indifference, would like to see the Islamic State wiped out and Syrian refugees return home by the grace of the Holy Spirit or by sheer brute force should understand this: the balance of the world depends on the fall of regimes steeped in virile authoritarianism and greed, wherever they may be found. The threat does not come from popular uprisings or exile, but from elites who believe human beings can be moved about like pawns on a black-and-white chessboard.

As the world enters a period of unprecedented upheaval, as systemic racism and authoritarianism are on everyone’s lips, we invite the world to take up once more the chant of the Syrian revolt—to finally bring down all the useful idiots of the system who pass themselves off as our leaders.

The liberation of peoples rhymes with the end of capitalism (and its imperialism).

Insurrection can only be global, carried by the people, for the people.

We express our full solidarity with the Syrian people.

Satellite images have proven that Chechen strongman Ramzan Kadyrov has imprisoned, tortured, and even disappeared numerous individuals in his secret prisons in Argun and Tsotsi-Yurt. The international press is quick to refer to these as “concentration camps” for homosexuals, adding horror to horror, while the original article in Russian merely reveals what has already existed for decades: secret bases where Kadyrov’s militias have always been active.

This massive attack on homosexuals accompanied attempts by LGBT activists to organize several gay pride events in four cities in the Caucasus. Requests to this effect were made on March 9, 2017 (see Novaya Gazeta article) to local authorities by Nikolai Alekseev and Vladimir Klimov, announcing the participation of several hundred people. A new wave of persecution immediately followed the announcement, which was merely a new pretext for attacks already initiated earlier by the government militias against homosexuals.

Some information from the mainstream media is available here and there in French.

This “cleansing” campaign is part of a long history of arbitrariness and violence.

The Chechen context

Since the official end of the second Chechen conflict, the inauguration of Ramzan Kadyrov, and the definitive withdrawal of Russian troops from the Chechen Republic in 2006, Kadyrov’s militias have been waging a systematic policy of terror that leaves little choice but to flee or suffer for those who survived Russia’s unspeakable 10-year war on the small republic. Kadyrov’s arbitrary power means random violence against anyone who does not publicly pledge allegiance to the tyrant.

After conscientiously eliminating all opposition, assassinating human rights defenders (Anna Politkovskaya, Natalya Estemirova, Stanislas Markelov, Anastasia Baburova, etc.) and closing their offices in Grozny (Memorial Association), Kadyrov launched a sinister vendetta against all the families of those who fled abroad or who, directly or indirectly, certainly or allegedly, helped or participated in the armed rebellion against the pro-Russian government. Torturing and murdering people in his secret prisons, burning down the houses (sources: 1, 2, and 3) of the parents of suspected combatants, he even went so far as to have the only person who dared to file a complaint against him directly with the European Court of Human Rights, Umar Israilov, assassinated in the heart of Europe, in Vienna, in January 2009. the only person who dared to file a complaint directly against him with the European Court of Human Rights, Umar Israilov. His assassin, Lechi Bogatyrev, is now police commander of the Pobedinskoe district of Grozny. For several months now, Kadyrov has also been staging weekly public humiliation sessions on local television, in which he and his lieutenants lecture people who bow down to them, accusing them of everything and anything (see 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…). Many of those lectured in this way subsequently disappear without trace. Finally, since 2014, Kadyrov has been sending his own men, willingly or by force, to fight in eastern Ukraine alongside Russian forces (see Euronews report).

Consequently, the murderous frenzies of Chechen “Ubu the King” benefit from the complicity of the Kremlin, preventing any Chechens from seeking refuge elsewhere in the Russian Federation. Kadyrov is the Kremlin’s ruthless puppet, whose iron fist guarantees Russia’s continued domination over the Chechen Republic.

An unbearable exile

Fleeing the country in their hundreds, Chechens first cross Belarus, which has still not reestablished its borders with Russia, before being screened at the Polish border in Terespol. For the past year, Poland has decided to drastically restrict access to its territory, turning back the vast majority of Chechens at the border crossing, causing hundreds of people to become stranded in Brest, in western Belarus. This is at the request of the European authorities and Frontex, who care little about the fate of asylum seekers who are turned away at the gates of the Schengen area.

Those who make it to Poland, despite the fact that there seems to be enough space in shelters for asylum seekers, quickly realize that it is a dead end and that they will never be granted any status that would allow them to live decently in the country. Not to mention that in Poland, as in Austria, Kadyrov’s men are everywhere and regularly resort to pressure, threats, and aggression. As a result, Poland is often only the beginning of the road that leads Chechens to Germany, Scandinavia, the Benelux countries, or France.

Once they arrive in Paris, most Chechen asylum seekers are placed under the Dublin Convention and forced to hide for 6 to 18 months while France tries to send them back to Poland (or another country considered responsible for their asylum application). During this interminable period of hiding, the Paris Prefecture sends them summonses to the 8th office (N.B.: other prefectures also have their own “deportation offices”), which are nothing more than ambushes designed to try to put them on a plane before they can file their asylum application in France.

And even when their asylum applications are registered, the Code on Entry, Stay and Asylum Application (CESEDA) has become increasingly strict over the past four years, leading to an exponential increase in rejections by the French Office for Refugees and Stateless Persons (OFPRA) or the National Court of Asylum (CNDA) . The further away the official end of the war in Chechnya becomes, the less likely Chechens are to have the threats they face if they return to their country recognized. This is despite the fact that the huge Chechen diaspora, the international community, NGOs, and journalists are (almost) unanimous in saying that Chechnya is an open-air death trap. This does not matter to asylum judges, who insist without blushing that applicants must provide them with “new evidence” and “be more persuasive during hearings.”

An increase in deportations means an increase in refusals of residence permits and orders to leave French territory. We know what happens next: the plane. But after that, we don’t know: Europe cares little about the fate of those who have been handed over, bound hand and foot, to the Russian police.

Counterterrorism and racist stereotypes

Disdainful of the plight of thousands of Chechen refugees who have been struggling for more than a decade in the Schengen Area, European authorities have decided to impose a double punishment on the Chechen diaspora since the start of the war in Syria.

In France, following the attacks in January and November 2015, the Central Territorial Intelligence Service (SCRT) and the General Directorate for Internal Security (DGSI), both newly established in 2014, have further tightened surveillance of Muslims, particularly Chechens.

The paranoid and fabricated notes of the intelligence services, fueled by a striking ignorance of the Muslim religion and its practices, but also by indifference to the history and experiences of the Chechen community since the 2000s, serve to justify administrative measures that allow for the harassment and arbitrary deprivation of liberty:

On November 20, 2015, Lioma, a 41-year-old refugee since 2007, was placed under house arrest at his home in Ingré. His house arrest was finally overturned by the Orleans Administrative Court more than 10 months later, in October 2016.

On November 21, 2015, at around 2:30 a.m., RAID police officers raided the home of Magomed, a 32-year-old refugee since 2006 and father of nine children, in the Cité des Chaumes neighborhood of Montauban. He was immediately placed under house arrest. The order was finally revoked two months later.

At the same time, two other Chechens were placed under house arrest in Montauban, in the Beausoleil and Montplaisir neighborhoods. Their house arrest orders were also lifted after two months.

On November 26, 2015, at 7 a.m., around 20 GIGN police officers raided the home of Saïd Ahmed Itaev, a 33-year-old father of five who had been naturalized as a French citizen in 2007, in Sarreguemines. He was immediately put under house arrest.

On November 30, 2015, at 6 a.m., around 20 police officers from the SWAT team raided the Madiev family home in Rouen and conducted a search as part of the state of emergency. The search proved fruitless.

On January 25, 2016, at around 11 p.m., several dozen police officers from the SWAT team conducted simultaneous searches of the homes of Aslan, Ibragim, and Issa, three Chechens aged 32, 24, and 29 living in the Croix-du-Sud neighborhood of Reims, who had been refugees in France since 2010.

On September 9, 2016, Mansour Koudousov, 25, was deported to Russia after being placed under house arrest in Die (Drôme) since 2012, following the Merah case.

There are dozens of stories like these. Among the more than 3,000 home searches and 400 house arrests carried out during the state of emergency, many Chechens were affected. In almost all of these cases, there has been no legal follow-up, no solid evidence, but rather baseless speculation, referring to “alleged links” and “signs of radicalization,” “trips” to Turkey and Ukraine, or even visiting “Islamist websites.” In this case, Chechen news sites such as Checheninfo, Kavkaz Center, Chechen Press, Nohchicho, Chechen News, Golos Ichkerii, Ichkeria Info, and Waynakh.com, which are visited by the diaspora, are not Islamist websites, but community news sites, even though they have religious sections and give a voice to the Chechen rebellion (= opposition).

Extraditions to Russia

Disdainful of the plight of thousands of Chechen refugees who have been struggling for more than a decade in the Schengen Area, European authorities have decided to impose a double punishment on the Chechen diaspora since the start of the war in Syria.

In France, following the attacks in January and November 2015, the Central Territorial Intelligence Service (SCRT) and the General Directorate for Internal Security (DGSI), both newly established in 2014, have further tightened surveillance of Muslims, particularly Chechens.

The paranoid and fabricated notes of the intelligence services, fueled by a striking ignorance of the Muslim religion and its practices, but also by indifference to the history and experiences of the Chechen community since the 2000s, serve to justify administrative measures that allow for the harassment and arbitrary deprivation of liberty:

On November 20, 2015, Lioma, a 41-year-old refugee since 2007, was placed under house arrest at his home in Ingré. His house arrest was finally overturned by the Orleans Administrative Court more than 10 months later, in October 2016.

On November 21, 2015, at around 2:30 a.m., RAID police officers raided the home of Magomed, a 32-year-old refugee since 2006 and father of nine children, in the Cité des Chaumes neighborhood of Montauban. He was immediately placed under house arrest. The order was finally revoked two months later.

At the same time, two other Chechens were placed under house arrest in Montauban, in the Beausoleil and Montplaisir neighborhoods. Their house arrest orders were also lifted after two months.

On November 26, 2015, at 7 a.m., around 20 GIGN police officers raided the home of Saïd Ahmed Itaev, a 33-year-old father of five who had been naturalized as a French citizen in 2007, in Sarreguemines. He was immediately put under house arrest.

On November 30, 2015, at 6 a.m., around 20 police officers from the SWAT team raided the Madiev family home in Rouen and conducted a search as part of the state of emergency. The search proved fruitless.

On January 25, 2016, at around 11 p.m., several dozen police officers from the SWAT team conducted simultaneous searches of the homes of Aslan, Ibragim, and Issa, three Chechens aged 32, 24, and 29 living in the Croix-du-Sud neighborhood of Reims, who had been refugees in France since 2010.

On September 9, 2016, Mansour Koudousov, 25, was deported to Russia after being placed under house arrest in Die (Drôme) since 2012, following the Merah case.

There are dozens of stories like these. Among the more than 3,000 home searches and 400 house arrests carried out during the state of emergency, many Chechens were affected. In almost all of these cases, there has been no legal follow-up, no solid evidence, but rather baseless speculation, referring to “alleged links” and “signs of radicalization,” “trips” to Turkey and Ukraine, or even visiting “Islamist websites.” In this case, Chechen news sites such as Checheninfo, Kavkaz Center, Chechen Press, Nohchicho, Chechen News, Golos Ichkerii, Ichkeria Info, and Waynakh.com, which are visited by the diaspora, are not Islamist websites, but community news sites, even though they have religious sections and give a voice to the Chechen rebellion (= opposition).

On a regular basis, the DGSI submits memos to the Department of Public Freedoms and Legal Affairs (DLPAJ), recommending action against individuals for whom there are “serious reasons to believe” that they “pose a serious threat to public order or state security.” This is where Pascale Léglise enters the picture—a senior civil servant and longtime veteran of the Ministry of the Interior, whose daily work is devoted to building cases against individuals for whom there is little or no substantive evidence, beyond the reactionary beliefs of overzealous ministry officials.

This same Pascale Léglise was, on the evening of November 13, 2015, while the Bataclan attack was still unfolding, drafting the decrees implementing the state of emergency by the light of her desk lamp at 11 rue des Saussaies.

She later appeared before the Melun Administrative Court on December 2, 2015, to argue against C., one of the individuals placed under house arrest during COP21. Described as a “leader of the radical ultra-left political scene,” C. was presented as a threat to public order. The house arrest was upheld, including by the Conseil d’Etat, thereby entrenching the draconian security measures of the state of emergency at the highest legal level.

Pascale Léglise appeared once again before the Paris Administrative Court on February 6, 2017, this time to argue against Kamel Daoudi—described as “Bin Laden’s lieutenant”—who had been under house arrest for nine years on the basis of 16-year-old suspicions (read his blog). Daoudi had already served five years in prison between 2005 and 2008. Since then, despite a residence ban, he has been shuttled from town to town while the authorities attempt to find a country willing to accept his deportation.

The most recent illustration of the DLPAJ’s harmful practices came on April 12, 2017, with the action taken against Vakha Djamalkhanov. Vakha, a 25-year-old Chechen granted refugee status in France in 2010, was arrested at his home in Limeil-Brévannes by dozens of heavily armed, hooded SWAT officers—after which he simply disappeared.

The following day, members of the Chechen community mobilized: around 20 people gathered at Place de la République on the evening of April 13, followed by some 70 people at the same location on April 14.

On Friday afternoon, we learned—not from his lawyer, who had been stonewalled by various government agencies, but from another source—that Vakha had been subjected to a provision of the 2014 law “strengthening the fight against terrorism.” This provision allows the DLPAJ to expel, without trial and without the possibility of appeal, any individual for whom there are “serious reasons to believe” they pose a threat to public order or state security. Further investigation revealed that this practice is far from exceptional.

Vakha was thus secretly deported to Russia on Wednesday and handed over to the FSB, after his refugee status had been revoked in 2014. The justification for this relentless pursuit was a trip to Turkey in January 2014, made using a valid Russian passport he had purchased. The suspicion: that he had joined ISIS. In reality, he was traveling to Turkey to meet his future wife.

Whether this claim is true or not, it is certainly not for the FSB to decide—particularly given that all of Vakha’s relatives were systematically executed by Russian forces between 1994 and 2007, often under especially horrific circumstances.

Even as Angela Merkel and François Hollande publicly feign tension in their relationship with Vladimir Putin—suggesting that sanctions further impoverishing the Russian population are an effective means of resistance—European police forces continue to cooperate with Russian authorities under the pretext of combating terrorism and illegal immigration. As early as April, it was reported that Khizir B., another young Chechen, was awaiting extradition to Russia in the German prison of Büren. A rally was held on April 3, 2017, outside the German embassy in Paris. About fifteen people attended, voicing the same message repeated two weeks later: “Don’t help Russia kill us.”

This apparent contradiction does not seem to trouble the French authorities.

As of Monday, April 17, no news had been heard from Vakha for five days. One can only imagine the anguish of his mother, who was present at his arrest alongside her two nieces, aged seven and nine. As with other raids targeting Chechen families, these hooded operations inevitably revive the traumatic memories of the “cleansing campaigns” carried out in Chechnya.

Update: Vakha has since been located in a prison in Chechnya, where he has been convicted of “participation in an armed organization.” France has finally responded to a request from European authorities, tersely confirming that he was deported on the day of his arrest. Swift and efficient.

At the end of June 2014, I traveled to Palestine for the second time, less than nine months after having to interrupt my previous trip to see my father before he died. Little did I know that just a few days after my arrival, a new war would break out. Here is my account.

I’ve barely arrived and the war begins.

Traffic jams and clashes in Qalandiya

Qalandiya—known to everyone for its checkpoint, the wall plastered with Barghouti’s portrait, and the charred watchtower—is the main crossing point between Jerusalem and the West Bank and, above all, a symbolic site that embodies the humiliation of controls, apartheid‑like restrictions, and the inability of many Palestinians to leave their own territory. In Arabic it is called hajez. Israelis control everything that passes into Israel there.

Qalandiya is also something of a knot at the heart of Palestine. Directly below the checkpoint stretches the refugee camp, and between the two runs Route 60, which links Jalame (north of Jenin) and Meitar (south of Hebron), the two checkpoints that bookend the West Bank. It is a bottleneck that rarely clears: cars crawl forward, honk, turn around, and seem to overlap each other in an almost suffocating jam. White and green buses may cross into Israel, as can vehicles bearing yellow Israeli plates. All others—yellow “services” and cars with the green‑white Palestinian plates—must stay within the West Bank. Like all Palestinians without Israeli residency permits, they are barred from their own land.

Young men, armed and exuding a swaggering contempt, carry out the security formalities. Passports and visas, Palestinian ID cards, and residence permits are mandatory. Pedestrians pass through grids that resemble cattle‑holding corridors. Turnstiles constantly jam, opening only at the whim of the adolescent‑looking soldier conducting the checks, while queues can stretch indefinitely. Above each turnstile sit two lights—a red and a green—but a green light does not necessarily mean the gate is open. The endless cycle repeats: you pass, you pass again, you set your bag on the scanner and press your passport against the armored glass. Changing buses costs five shekels; a bus ride from Ramallah to Jerusalem (Damascus Gate) is eight shekels.

Over the checkpoint stand three of those familiar watchtowers that punctuate the Palestinian landscape. The one overlooking the entrance to the refugee camp is blackened with soot. Tires were set ablaze at its base during clashes that, in that spot, occur weekly—and, since the death of Mohammed Abu Khdeir, daily. During Ramadan they usually begin after Iftar, the evening meal that breaks the fast.

I found myself caught in one of those confrontations on my way to Shu’afat. At moments the soldiers moved close to the Palestinians to launch stun grenades, or hid behind barrels on the left sidewalk to fire live rounds. A sniper crouched behind a blue water tank, adjusted his aim, and fired repeatedly—whistling and a faint metallic crack. On the Palestinian side there were about forty people armed with stones and slingshots—the inverted myth of David versus Goliath, minus the victory. In the end, two Palestinians were wounded by gunfire.

Taking advantage of a lull, I slipped away to rejoin the road to Shu’afat…

East Jerusalem rises up following the death of Mohammed Abu Khdeir

After the kidnapping of three young Gush Ezion settlers, Israel’s government—ever quick to blame Hamas—still could not locate Eyal Yifrach, Naftali Frankel or Gilad Shaer alive. The Shin Bet (Israel’s internal security service) now has to admit its failure. The three were found dead in Halhul, north of Hebron, and buried in Modiin on July 1.

The discovery ignited a wave of fury. Within 24 hours, hundreds of extremists flooded the internet with calls for the murder and genocide of Arabs, despite the victims’ parents urging restraint and reminding skeptics that “the same blood runs in the veins of Arabs and Jews.”

On the dawn of Wednesday, 16‑year‑old Mohammed Abu Khdeir was seized by three men outside a shop in Shu’afat. His charred body was later recovered in a nearby forest; the autopsy showed he had been burned alive after being beaten. The next three days saw Shu’afat and several East‑Jerusalem neighborhoods—Beit Hanina, at‑Tour, Silwan, Ras al‑‘Amoud and al‑Eesawiyya—rise in protest.

July 4, the first Friday of Ramadan, was marked by massive funeral rites for Mohammed in Shu’afat, drawing more than 10 000 mourners. Israel barred the ceremony from Al‑Aqsa Mosque, which for weeks had endured violent incursions by Israeli fanatics accompanied by soldiers.

That night, roughly 200 demonstrators clashed with Israeli special forces at the Beit Hanina–Shu’afat junction. Molotov cocktails, stones, rubber‑bullet fire, tear‑gas grenades and water cannons were exchanged. Unlike the earlier episode at Qalandiya, where a sniper perched behind a water tank appeared ready to add another name to the growing list of Palestinian martyrs, the special forces reportedly refrained from using live ammunition.

The Veolia‑Alstom tram line was not spared. Protesters cut the tracks and toppled two poles on the line that connects Jerusalem to the illegal settlements of Giv’at‑Ha Mivtar, Pisgat Ze’ev and Neve Ya’akov, depriving more than 50 000 settlers of tram service. Simultaneously, incidents multiplied across the West Bank: army raids and skirmishes in the Old City of Hebron, the Al‑Arroub refugee camp (Hebron district), the villages of Barta’a ash‑Sharqiyya (Jenin district), Al‑Asakra, Jouret ash‑Sham’a and Um Salmouna (Bethlehem district), leading to further abductions.

From the settler side, new violent episodes were reported: in Osarin (Nablus district), 22‑year‑old Tareq Ziad Odeily was seized by two Israeli vehicles, beaten and left for dead near a field; in Keesan (Bethlehem district), 17‑year‑old Ala’ Mousa Obeyyat was deliberately run over by a settler’s car; and in Sha’aba (Hebron area), 30‑year‑old Bashir Sobhi al‑Mohtaseb was beaten by a group of Kiryat Arba settlers.

A conversation with a group of young Karmi Zur settlers camping outside Halhul revealed once again how misinformation and hatred shape their worldview, prompting them to see every Arab as a butcher and terrorist. Their interaction with me was surprisingly cordial—they even offered chocolate. During our talk I heard them claim that Palestinians have no reason to complain because Israel “generously gave them the Gaza Strip—now full of luxury hotels—and provides water and electricity for free.” They also asserted that Arabs are educated from childhood to kill Jews and that the proportion of fanatics in Israel is infinitesimal. The settlers believe they alone live in fear and view each new settlement as a way to further bind Jews in the occupied territories for protection against Arab aggression. They do not even recognize the label “settlers” applied to them.

When they invited me to wait for a gathering that would be guarded by soldiers for our safety, I declined. I preferred to leave before engaging in any deeper debate with the Israeli forces, opting instead to spend the early evening on a bus packed with “dangerous Palestinians” on my way back to Ramallah.

Mounir Ahmad Al Badareen: a dove has fallen

July 14, pre‑dawn – Between four and five a.m. in the village of As Samuʾ (Hebron district), Israeli army jeeps rolled into the town.

Violent clashes erupted when residents tried to drive the intruders away, pursuing them to the edge of Route 60 at the western tip of the village. The road slices the hill there like an open wound in the landscape, linking the settlements of Otni’el and Shim’a before continuing toward Beersheba beyond the “wall of shame.”

Mounir Ahmad Al‑Badareen, 19, was among those who attempted to resist with stones. Stones against rifles—​the drama and tragedy of an unarmed youth risking his life daily to shake off oppression.

Palestinian projectiles ricocheted down the road; their impact marks were still visible two days later. The youngsters were exposed, standing too close to the road’s lip. A soldier fired two .22 calibre dum‑dum rounds—​ammunition banned under the Hague Declaration of 1899 and prohibited in 2001 for crowd control by the Israeli army’s chief legal officer—​into Mounir’s torso. His friends fled.

Witnesses later described the routine brutality of the adolescent soldiers, who mishandled Mounir’s wounded body and blocked a Red Crescent ambulance from reaching him while his blood drained away. It took forty minutes for him to become a shaheed, a martyr for a desperate cause.

The following day, Ahmad Hamdan Al‑Badareen, an English teacher and Mounir’s father, spoke with humility about his son’s fate. He shared his broader view of the Israeli occupation and his unconditional wish for a just peace—​a vision far removed from the revenge narrative often ascribed to Palestinians. In his view, a fair peace can exist only when walls fall: “No peace without freedom; no freedom without struggle.” The father and the slain son’s memory seemed to converge on that sentiment.

That evening, Mounir’s family welcomed me into their home as if I were one of their own, despite our differences and their grief. Sitting among them in the communal hall, I witnessed a ceremony attended by hundreds of locals and outsiders who came to offer condolences.

Mounir kept a pigeon loft. By killing him, the Israeli soldiers struck at a symbol of freedom itself.

The Palestinian Authority at the service of the settler

Israel appears able to lean on the Palestinian Authority to suppress any spark of popular revolt. Historically, the Palestinian people have been split between those who see a necessary uprising as inevitable and those who cling to the hope of a peace brokered through diplomacy—even at the cost of unbearable compromises. It seems that the prospect of securing crumbs from endless negotiations with the White House motivates Mahmoud Abbas to polish the shoes of the Israeli colonial state.

Fatah’s strategy since Yasser Arafat’s death has shifted dramatically. The comfortable Palestinian elite now seems to have nothing to gain from armed struggle and prefers pacification and compromise. This collaboration between the Palestinian bourgeoisie and the occupier, once again, appears to be a prerequisite for the creation of a new state.

While the Israeli army multiplies operations aimed at decapitating Hamas in the West Bank—carrying out arbitrary nighttime arrests across cities and villages in the occupied territories—the Palestinian Authority assists the occupier in its effort to choke resistance.

Since the beginning of the week, wherever Palestinian youth traditionally take up arms against the occupation, the Palestinian police have intervened to prevent conflict, forcibly interposing themselves between protesting civilians and Israeli soldiers.

That is exactly what happened last night in Al Bireh, when Palestinian anti‑riot forces blocked the road leading to the settlement‑garrison of Beit El, and similarly in Qalandiya, where the Authority’s police took over from the Israeli army to violently suppress rioters.

Following the sniper‑kill of Mahmoud Ismael Atallah in central Ramallah on 22 June, the Palestinian police opted for repression, quashing any uprising in the city. That intervention culminated in an attack on the police station by residents. Palestinians are not fooled.

What does the Palestinian Authority hope to achieve? If Abbas pushes collaboration with Israel as far as he wishes, no peace will ever be acceptable without the dismantling of all West Bank settlements, the implementation of the right of return for refugees, unrestricted movement for all Palestinians, and the removal of the apartheid wall. Conversely, if the Authority stubbornly persists on a path of compromise, it will reap the opposite of what it claims to seek—and a third intifada could prove fatal to it.

Overview of the clashes around Ramallah

The bloody toll continues to climb in the Gaza Strip: 583 Palestinians killed and 3,640 wounded (including many amputations) since July 8. The United Nations even publishes morbid charts, assigning a tiny silhouette to each victim. Every day the local media are flooded with horrifying images—bodies torn apart, videos of snipers executing people live—followed by the unspeakable comments of genocide supporters. The war is waged online as well as on the ground.

Meanwhile, Israeli demonstrators shout loudly for murder in the streets, erecting anti‑Arab, anti‑left checkpoints in Haifa and Tel Aviv. The idea is to force motorists to chant “death to the Arabs,” under penalty of being beaten. The atmosphere is nauseating.

On the other side of the wall, clashes with the Israeli army are daily, and the number of injured is staggering. Israeli soldiers fire live rounds, hitting targets multiple times per hour. In the Ramallah suburbs I have watched stone‑throwers fall one after another, crouching or sprinting from cover to cover. Stones and Molotov cocktails rarely reach their targets, while bullets seem to pierce everything. Rifles sweep the darkness, a metallic snap follows, and a whizzing bullet flies—life and death reduced to a coin toss.

Around Ramallah, several hotspots heat up every night after the evening prayer (Isha), roughly from 10:30 p.m. until three or four in the morning:

OFER – The town is actually called Betunia, but the fighting takes place a few hundred metres from the Israeli Ofer prison and its checkpoint. Ofer, together with Megiddo and Ktzi’ot, is one of the three main Israeli detention facilities holding between 800 and 1,200 Palestinian prisoners. The prison looms in the background; in the foreground a narrow road leaves Betunia toward the checkpoint, where an expansive vacant lot offers no shelter. Atop a hill stands a factory owned by businessman Yasser Abbas—son of Mahmoud Abbas—who manufactures cigarettes. The enterprise, built on wealth accrued since the Oslo accords, underscores how little the Abbas family seems to care about the peace process. Yasser, a Canadian citizen, watches the clashes from a small balcony while his security detail observes. Palestinians use the steep slopes near the factory for cover, hurling stones at vehicles that shuttle back and forth across the vacant lot. They also try to approach the eastern flank of the hill, which looks directly onto the Wall, where soldiers keep a gate ready for counter‑attacks.

QALANDIYA – I have described this site previously. Its terrain is treacherous. The checkpoint is fortified with concrete blocks, behind which soldiers take up firing positions. On either side of the perpetually congested road lie cramped stalls with virtually no shelter. To the right, a massive embankment shelters a restaurant, a metal shed, and construction equipment that can be used as cover. In the centre, traffic streams continuously through the fighting as if nothing were happening. To the left, a covered sidewalk runs past shuttered shops. Clashes usually begin with piles of tires set ablaze on the road, then shift up the hill that skirts the Wall. The layout rarely allows anyone to get closer than 150 metres to the checkpoint—beyond that range only slingshots have a chance of hitting anything.

BEIT EL – What is commonly called Ramallah actually comprises two adjacent towns: Ramallah to the west and Al Bireh to the east, linked by Route 60. Leaving the city at a roundabout, a massive concrete flagpole rises, topped by a Palestinian flag—a defiant banner to settlers and soldiers across the street. To the east, two settlements—Psagot and Beit El—overlook the town; the latter shares half its territory with a military base. Most of the clashes occur near that base, north of the Ramallah‑Al Bireh corridor, behind a cluster of houses and an Al‑Huda gas station. The terrain is largely exposed; only the houses and their low walls provide any cover. On July 20 the fighting there reached a particularly violent peak.

AR‑RAM – This town sits directly above the Qalandia checkpoint to the south. Its main entrance is a wide roundabout on the winding Route 60 that leads to Bethlehem. It was here that 20‑year‑old Mahmoud Hatem Shawamra was killed on July 21. Accounts of his death diverge: some say a settler shot him, others claim Israeli soldiers fired at his back. He died in a military ambulance bound for nearby Hizma. Youth gathered at the spot where he was allegedly shot, surrounded by discarded Israeli medical gear. No evidence confirms a settler’s involvement; the location is precisely where clashes regularly erupt, at the entrance to Ar Ram.

From there a protest marched after news of his death, first toward the center of Ar Ram and then toward armored Israeli units that had been positioned for hours opposite the town’s roundabout. To reach the soldiers, protesters first had to exit the town and get onto the road, but the troops were entrenched behind a concrete barrier and quickly repelled attacks with well‑lit gunfire.

Beyond the Ramallah district, daily clashes are reported from Hebron, Halhul, Beit Umar and Al‑Arrub, where the population endures regular army incursions. Yet the conflict is not confined to a handful of towns or villages that bear the torch of Palestinian resistance; wherever Israeli soldiers set foot, locals respond with stone‑throwing. The intense events of the past month have reignited the anger of a population pressured far too long.

Some Western observers see the non‑violent Friday protests in Bil’in, Ni’lin, Nabi Saleh, Al Masara and Kufr Qaddum as the future of Palestinian insurrection. In reality, everyday resistance is far less visible and receives far less media coverage outside local outlets. Most of it unfolds after dark.

Occupying forces do not like witnesses

Friday, July 18, proved especially tense between Palestinians and the Israeli army. As on many Fridays across the occupied territories, Palestinians stormed Israeli forces and installations—not with weapons, but with the almost suicidal determination that has become their hallmark. Yesterday’s resolve was sharpened by a desire to show solidarity with Gaza’s residents, who have been massacred for weeks by Israeli troops.

In the afternoon I first made my way to Ofer.

The clashes there meet an often disproportionate Israeli response; soldiers do not hesitate to fire live rounds when tear gas and rubber bullets fail to achieve their aims. During these displays of force, the Israeli army frequently makes no distinction between rioter, medic, passerby or journalist. On that day I witnessed a deliberate hunt for journalists. Military jeeps repeatedly approached reporters in a threatening manner, forcing them back into their vehicles before deliberately tossing gas grenades at their feet. Later, a water cannon was used to “clean” the journalists present.

I experienced that targeted violence firsthand. While standing alone ahead of an armored army vehicle, a rubber‑bullet struck me squarely in the chest, even though I was holding my camera at eye level. It is indisputable that, as a witness, I was the direct target of that shot, and the soldier firing from the vehicle’s door clearly knew the projectile would hit me just centimeters from my face.

Late that evening the fighting broke out near the Qalandia checkpoint. Arriving with a photographer friend and trying to get as close as possible to the Israeli soldiers while gunfire raged, we found ourselves alongside Palestinian television journalists under heavy Israeli fire. One of the journalists, Fadi Al Jayoussi, was hit in the leg.

Israel once again displayed blind, indiscriminate violence, even as the Gaza operation—condemned worldwide—has already claimed 316 lives and injured more than 2,200 people, the majority of them children.

Enough is enough: Israel fires on crowd at Qalandiya

On July 24, a collective called for a demonstration to mark the Nakba—the destruction of roughly 400 Palestinian villages and the forced exile of 700,000 Palestinians during the founding of the State of Israel. The protest was slated to depart from the Al‑‘Amari refugee camp, force its way through the Qalandia checkpoint, and continue on to Jerusalem and the Al‑Aqsa Mosque, which had been closed to anyone under 50 for several days even as Muslims prepared to celebrate the end of Ramadan.

Posters posted throughout Ramallah announced a 21:30 start time. Yet thousands of Palestinians were already gathered on Route 60 well before the hour, forming a sea of Palestinian flags and keffiyehs. With a photographer friend I set out to join the head of the march, but it took an hour to catch up with the procession. By then the front of the march had already reached Qalandia, where the Israeli army had, for hours, sealed the checkpoint with concrete blocks and steel grates, waiting resolutely.

The Israeli forces were invisible to us, blinded by a massive floodlight mounted on one of the watchtowers that bathed the entire scene in blinding glare.

The clash had been underway for some time; hundreds of stones already littered the ground. As we arrived the crowd grew denser and dozens of ambulances were already making their frantic rounds. Black clouds billowed from burning tires, and in front of us dozens of Palestinians hurled projectiles at the Israeli convoy, taking cover behind scant obstacles—a central median wall, a tired warehouse, a garbage bin and a metal barbecue grill. Hundreds of people crouched in tight groups, trying to avoid Israeli fire.

From the front of the scene we were thrust straight into the horror: a stretcher carried in the body of the first martyr, his forehead pierced by a bullet. Every two minutes another group pulled a wounded person toward awaiting ambulances. Repeated pleas for medics, thick plumes of black smoke, the crack of gunfire, fireworks and ambulance sirens created an apocalyptic tableau. The Arabic word “SA’AF!” (paramedic) echoed over the chaos.

Having lost sight of my friend, I moved around the battlefield—right beside the separation wall, left onto rooftops, and in the middle of the road—spending about fifteen minutes lying flat against a wall with dozens of others while Israeli shooters fired just above our heads. The green laser sights of Israeli rifles and the high‑pitched whine of bullets were terrifying.

There were a few instances of live fire from the Palestinian side, met with whistles and applause, but overall the fight was waged with stones, Molotov cocktails and fireworks. Repeated Palestinian assaults, shouted with “Allāhu Akbar!”, were answered by bursts of gunfire, bullets whizzing through the crowd and striking moving bodies. The clash left roughly 287 injured and two dead, figures that should soon be confirmed by doctors at the Ramallah hospital. Many of the wounded—and likely one of the fatalities—came from the Al‑‘Amari refugee camp.

I would later find out the identity of the young man I saw on the stretcher: Muhammad al-A’raj, from Qalandiya, killed at the age of 17.

I left the battle around 3 a.m., when the crowd had thinned and staying any longer grew increasingly dangerous. I, like many here, had hoped the march would force the checkpoint open, but the struggle was starkly uneven. Despite the unwavering determination of hundreds of young Palestinians daring to face the bullets, the assault lacked organization: no shields, virtually no barricades, and almost nothing to protect the demonstrators.

Back in Paris, my mind is still on fire

I returned from Palestine this Monday and am trying to put my thoughts in order, to revisit what I saw, the conversations I had, and the sensations I experienced during the 45 days I spent in Israel and the West Bank.

Putting aside Orientalist or exoticising lenses, I found among the Palestinians an incredible hospitality and an openness of mind that is hard to comprehend. After so many years of deprivation and violence, it is astonishing that the Palestinian people can still summon the strength to love the Other and open their doors to strangers. One might expect that a people whose lives are strewn with tragedy would inevitably be driven by their darkest emotions, that a wounded nation’s destiny is to unleash itself in adversity and terrorism. But that is not the case.

Martyrdom is part of Palestinian life, and dying at the hands of the enemy is regarded by the families of shaheed both as a tragedy and an honor. Yet I did not encounter the fanaticism that some attribute to all Palestinians or the assumption that every Palestinian supports suicide attacks.

At the same time, I must admit that I feel neither contempt nor indifference toward those who have chosen to give their lives for freedom, whether out of anger, despair, or hatred. Putting one’s life on the line is never a simple choice; it is often the culmination of a long descent into hell, a slow awareness of life’s futility in contexts where everything obstructs happiness and joy. Israel has created the conditions for its own destruction by continually crushing an entire people under a steel heel, under the pretext of fighting terrorism, while the root of that terrorism lies in the very origins of Israel’s creation: without the demolition of hundreds of villages, without the assassination and expulsion of thousands of Palestinians from their lands, and without the occupation, there would be no terrorism.

In Palestine I was never afraid. The only moments I felt fear were when I was in contact with settlers and Israeli soldiers. They are as fearful as they inspire fear because they are made of fear. Confined to residential enclaves surrounded by walls and barbed wire, armed with automatic weapons and accompanied by armed men, they express distrust and contempt and have forgotten their humanity. Their aggression often extends even to non‑Palestinians. The excuses they might offer to justify their closed‑off stance are false: they are not in danger. A simple comparison of Israeli and Palestinian death tolls since 2000 shows that they are not the ones who need protection and security the most.

But when you speak with them, it quickly becomes clear that they are steeped in myths and prejudices, convinced from a young age that the Arab is a murderer and a liar who only wants the destruction of Jews. Among settlers, it is said that Arab children learn to kill at school, that the notion of peace does not exist for them, that Arab civilization lacks faith and law, and that the Qur’an teaches only violence. Talking with settlers made me hear things I never imagined could come from a people long persecuted and victimised by racism. These Jews have forgotten.

During my month in Palestine I discovered that Israeli societal racism is extreme, capable of taking the form of pogroms comparable to those that caused the deaths of thousands of Jews in Russia between 1880 and 1945. I saw large groups of young Israelis descend into the streets shouting “death to the Arabs,” beating their detractors, expressing murderous desires, and openly insisting on targeting children and pregnant women so that the Arab race would not reproduce. Israeli elites may claim these are marginal positions, but the statements of public figures, the state’s tacit approval of settler violence, and the propaganda surrounding the massacre of Gaza’s population all send encouraging signals to Israeli fascists.

Nevertheless, there are many Israeli voices opposed to the state’s policies: Jewish peace organizations, anti‑Zionist Orthodox Jews, left‑wing activists, anarchists against the wall. They, too, face unparalleled violence, accused of betraying their people and of playing into antisemitic narratives, even though they are merely denouncing Jewish nationalism.

Palestine is undeniably a land of contrasts and dissonances. When I trace the events of the past month, the inconsistencies pile up. Nothing today clarifies, for example, the circumstances of the deaths of the settlers Gilad Shaer, Naftali Fraenkel and Eyal Yifrah, whose bodies were found almost intact after two weeks under a pile of rocks in full sun. Israel rushed to accuse two young Palestinians from Halhul—never located—before demolishing their families’ homes and arresting their relatives. Military operations across numerous West Bank towns, settler violence, the assassination of the young Palestinian Mohammed Abu Khdeir in Shu’afat, and the bombing of Gaza have resulted in weeks of daily clashes in which hundreds of Palestinians have been injured and about twenty killed in the West Bank.

Who bears responsibility? What will become of the fanatics who burned Mohammed Abu Khdeir alive? They have already been released under judicial supervision. What will become of the soldiers who, deliberately, with their advanced weaponry, shot Palestinians armed only with stones? They are praised; they have done their job. Israel thanks its assassins.

Meanwhile in Gaza, the toll stands at 1,422 dead (23 % children) and 8,265 injured as of 31 July—surpassing the casualty counts of previous operations. Israel does not defend itself; it exterminates. Some speak of genocide, a term that should not be used without UN endorsement.

I left Palestine as the Al‑Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigades—the armed wing of Fatah—launched targeted attacks against Israeli forces and settlers in the West Bank, in solidarity with Gaza and in support of Hamas actions. Suffice it to say, the summer is far from cooling down.