Peter Oborne has narrated this article for you to listen to.
Six weeks ago, I invited Ahmed Alnaouq, a young diplomat who recently joined the Palestinian mission in London, to stay for a cricket weekend in Wiltshire. He resisted all entreaties to play the game but was in every other way a delightful guest. On Sunday, Ahmed learnt that his family in Gaza has been wiped out by an Israeli bomb. His father, siblings, and more than 15 nieces and nephews had all been killed. Twenty-three dead, no injuries. Another brother was killed by an Israeli bombing in 2014. His mother died three years ago because, he says, Israel denied her medical treatment. When I sent him a text message saying that he and his family were in my thoughts and prayers – it felt hopeless, but what else can one say? – he replied: ‘My family is gone Peter. All of them. My father, brothers and sisters and all their children. Everyone is gone.’ The Gaza health ministry says the death toll from the Israeli bombing is now over 5,000, more than 2,000 of whom are children. Those who die at once are fortunate. Many endure slow deaths crushed in the rubble. Gazans write their names on their limbs as a precaution so that when their bodies are found they can be identified.
Many Palestinians outside Gaza live in fear. In some areas they dare not speak Arabic in the street. The police tour the streets entering shops, demanding to see Palestinians’ mobile phones. Any sign of support for Gaza and they are bundled into vans. WhatsApp groups call for violence against Palestinians. One Telegram channel is publicising the names, photographs and addresses of prominent Palestinians, demanding that they be killed.
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