A ceasefire in Gaza appears to be close. Here's why it could happen now
On Friday, Donald Trump said he expected Hamas to agree within 24 hours to a deal that Israel has already accepted. Analysts predict a formal announcement after Benjamin Netanyahu, Israel's prime minister, arrives in Washington on Monday on his third visit to the White House since Trump began his current term.
If a new ceasefire does come into effect, it will be the third during the war, in which about 57,000 Palestinians, mostly civilians, have died.
The first lasted just 10 days in November 2023. The second was forced on a reluctant Netanyahu by Trump in February this year and ended in March when Israel reneged on a promise to move to a second scheduled phase that could have led to a definitive end to hostilities.
The terms of the new deal include the staggered release of hostages held by Hamas; freedom for hundreds of Palestinians in Israeli jails; desperately needed aid for Gaza; and the phased withdrawal of Israeli forces from some parts of the strip seized in recent months.
Once again, the ceasefire will last for 60 days, during which time talks about what happens next will be held. Trump and regional powers are offering guarantees to reassure Hamas that Israel will not simply return to an all-out offensive and that meaningful discussions about a permanent end to the war will actually take place.
One factor that has brought a new ceasefire closer is the brief conflict last month between Israel and Iran, which ended in a US-brokered ceasefire. That capped a series of military and political developments that had seriously weakened Tehran and the various militant groups it had supported around the region, which include Hamas.
More important is the boost that gave Netanyahu. Though polls record only a slight increase in support for his Likud party and in his personal popularity, many Israelis nonetheless rejoiced in what was seen as a crushing victory over a much-feared foe.
If Netanyahu brings the war in Gaza to what voters see as a successful, or at least acceptable, close, Netanyahu can stand in elections – probably next year – claiming to be the man who made Israel safer than it has ever been, even if few have forgotten the security and strategic failures that led to the Hamas attack of October 2023 in which militants took 251 hostages and killed 1,200, mostly civilians.
By the end of this month, Israel's parliament will have risen for a three-month recess and courts will also not sit, giving Netanyahu respite from the threat of a no-confidence vote or dissolution motion as well as from continuing cross-examination in his trial for corruption. This undermines the threats to collapse the government made throughout the conflict in Gaza by far-right coalition allies bitterly opposed to a deal with Hamas.
Successive opinion surveys show that an agreement that brings back hostages would be very popular with Israelis, so this, too, would help Netanyahu in elections. Israeli casualties in Gaza – 20 soldiers died in June – are also causing concern. A poll published by Maariv, an Israeli newspaper, on Friday showed a further boost for the prime minister as hopes of a ceasefire rose.
As for Hamas, analysts and sources close to its leaders say the militant Islamist organisation is divided, much weakened by the Israeli onslaught in Gaza and aware that it has few allies who can or will offer any practical support. The main aim of its leaders now is to retain some presence in Gaza, even a residual one. This alone would constitute some form of victory, and partly explains the determination with which Hamas seek a permanent end to the fighting.
Whether it will get one is still not clear. Israeli media have been briefed by 'sources close to Netanyahu' that if Hamas cannot be disarmed in Gaza and its leaders exiled from the devastated territory through negotiations then Israel will resume military operations, and that Washington would support its decision to return to war. Many 'close to Netanyahu' also continue to support mass 'voluntary' emigration from Gaza, or the relocation of much of its population to an area in the south, or both.
Recent days have been noisy with voices: American, Israeli, Saudi Arabian, Qatari and many others. Barely heard have been the voices of the 2.3 million Palestinians in Gaza, where Israel's offensive continues. On Friday, local officials and medics said Israeli airstrikes killed 15 Palestinians in the territory and another 20 people died in shootings while waiting at food points.
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Glasgow Times
an hour ago
- Glasgow Times
Israeli air strikes kill 38 Palestinians in Gaza
The strikes came as Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu was preparing to fly to Washington for talks at the White House aimed at pushing forward ceasefire efforts. Separately, an Israeli official said the country's security cabinet had, on Saturday night, approved sending aid into the northern part of Gaza, where civilians are suffering from acute food shortages. Meanwhile, in Yemen, a spokesperson for the Houthi rebel group announced in a pre-recorded message that the organisation had launched ballistic missiles targeting Ben Gurion airport overnight. The Israeli military said these had been intercepted. Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu was preparing to fly to Washington for talks at the White House aimed at pushing forward ceasefire efforts (Leo Correa/AP) US president Donald Trump has floated a plan for an initial 60-day ceasefire that would include a partial release of hostages held by Hamas in exchange for an increase in humanitarian supplies allowed into Gaza. The proposed truce calls for talks on ending the 21-month war altogether. Some 20 people were killed and 25 wounded after Israeli strikes hit two houses in Gaza City, according to Mohammed Abu Selmia, the director of Shifa Hospital that services the area. In southern Gaza, 18 Palestinians were killed by strikes in Muwasi, an area on Gaza's Mediterranean where many displaced people live in tents, officials at Nasser Hospital in nearby Khan Younis told The Associated Press. Five of the dead belonged to the same family, according to the hospital. The Israeli military made no immediate comment on the individual strikes, but said it had struck 130 targets across the Gaza Strip in the last 24 hours. It said the strikes targeted Hamas command and control structures, storage facilities, weapons and launchers, and that they had killed a number of militants in northern Gaza. The war began when Hamas attacked Israel on October 7 2023, killing some 1,200 people and taking 251 others hostage. US president Donald Trump has floated a plan for an initial 60-day ceasefire (Julia Demaree Nikhinson/AP) Israel responded with an offensive that has killed more than 57,000 Palestinians, more than half of them women and children, according to Gaza's health ministry. The ministry, which is under Gaza's Hamas government, does not differentiate between civilians and combatants. The UN and other international organisations see its figures as the most reliable statistics on war casualties. The strikes occur as efforts to reach a ceasefire deal appeared to gain momentum. Mr Netanyahu's office said his government would send a negotiating team to Qatar on Sunday to conduct indirect talks, adding that Hamas was seeking 'unacceptable' changes to the proposal. The planned talks in Qatar come ahead of Mr Netanyahu's scheduled visit to Washington on Monday to meet Mr Trump to discuss the deal. It is unclear if an agreement will be reached ahead of the Israeli prime minister's White House meeting. Hamas has sought guarantees that the initial truce would lead to a total end to the war and withdrawal of Israeli troops from Gaza. Previous negotiations have stalled over Hamas demands of guarantees that further negotiations would lead to the war's end, while Mr Netanyahu has insisted Israel would resume fighting to ensure the militant group's destruction.
The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
The destruction of Palestine is breaking the world
Sereen Haddad is a bright young woman. At 20 years old, she just finished a four-year degree in psychology at Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU) in only three years, earning the highest honors along the way. Yet, despite her accomplishments, she still can't graduate. Her diploma is being withheld by the university, 'not because I didn't complete the requirements', she told me, 'but because I stood up for Palestinian life.' Haddad, who is Palestinian American, had been raising awareness on her campus about the Palestinian fight for freedom as part of her university's chapter of Students for Justice in Palestine. The struggle is also personal for her. With roots in Gaza, she has lost more than 200 members of her extended family to Israel's war. She was part of a group of VCU students and supporters who attempted to set up an encampment in April 2024. The university called in the police that same night. Protestors were pepper sprayed and brutalized, and 13 were arrested. Haddad was not charged, but she was taken to the hospital 'because of the head trauma that I endured', she told me. 'I was bleeding. I was bruised. Cuts everywhere. The police slammed me down on the concrete, like, six different times.' But last year's attempted encampment wasn't even the reason Haddad's degree is being withheld. This year's peaceful memorial of it was. And how that scenario played out, with the university and campus police constantly changing the rules, illustrates something worrisome far beyond the leafy confines of an American campus. Israel's war in Gaza is chipping away at so much of what we – in the United States but also internationally – had agreed upon as acceptable, from the rules governing our freedom of speech to the very laws of armed conflict. It seems no exaggeration to say that the foundation of the international order of the last 77 years is threatened by this change in the obligations governing our legal and political responsibilities to each other. This collapse began with the liberal world's lack of resolve to rein in Israel's war in Gaza. It escalated when no one lifted a finger to stop hospitals being bombed. It expanded when mass starvation became a weapon of war. And it is peaking at a time when total war is no longer viewed as a human abhorrence but is instead the deliberate policy of the state of Israel. The implications of this collapse are profound for international, regional and even domestic politics. Political dissent is repressed, political language is policed, and traditionally liberal societies are increasingly militarized against their own citizens. Many of us disregard how much has shifted in the last 20 months. But we are ignoring the collapse of the international system that has defined our lives for generations at our own collective peril. On 29 April 2025, a group of VCU students met on a campus lawn to remember the forcible dismantling of an encampment briefly erected on the same space the year prior. The gathering was not a protest. It was more akin to a picnic, with some students using banners from past demonstrations as blankets. Others brought actual blankets. Students sat on the grass and studied for their finals, tinkered with their laptops, and played cards or chess. A handful of the 40-odd students sported keffiyehs. It turned out the blankets were a problem. Almost two hours into their picnic, a university administrator confronted the students over a social media post that had advertised the gathering. ('Come be in community with one another to commemorate 1 Year since VCU's brutal response to the G4Z4 Solidarity Encampment. Bring picnic blankets, homework/finals, art supplies, snacks, music, games,' a local Palestinian solidarity group had posted.) Because of this post, the university considered the picnic an 'organized event', and since the students hadn't registered the event, it was deemed a violation of the rules. The rules at VCU had been changing because of protests for Gaza since February 2024. The administrator told the students they could relocate to the campus free-speech zone, an area that had been established in August 2024 because of the protests of that year. 'An amphitheater next to four dumpsters' is how Haddad described the area to me. The campus free-speech organization Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (Fire) is critical of free-speech zones because they 'function more like free speech quarantines, banishing student and faculty speakers to outposts that may be tiny, on the fringes of campus, or (frequently) both'. Rather than move, the students announced a formal end to their gathering, and they remained quietly on their campus lawn. But since the banners they were sitting on expressed a political point of view, the administrator told the students they would have to take them to the free-speech zone, according to Haddad. The lawn should be for everybody, the students countered. Several different conversations with campus police officers and different administrators ensued, with the students being told different rules each time. Over a dozen campus police officers appeared later that afternoon (as seen in this video). 'You've been asked not to have any blankets in the park. You have one minute to collect the blankets and to leave the park. Otherwise, you will be arrested for trespassing,' an officer told them. But the police continued to change the rules. First the students were told they would have to roll up the blankets and leave. Minutes later, police said they could stay if the blankets were gone. The students removed the blankets and, as the officers were leaving, the students began chanting: 'Free, free Palestine!' One raised a sign, referencing last year's protestors being pepper sprayed by police, that read: 'Gonna gas us again, you fucking monsters.' He was arrested. The others became angry and frustrated. 'You know what made this a demonstration?' a student yelled at the police. 'When you bring fucking cops to a picnic! That's what turns it into a fucking demonstration!' Eight days later, Haddad and another student, identified by the university as leaders, were served notice of policy violations due to the unauthorized gathering. Their degrees were being withheld. 'When students expose the violence of Israel's occupation and genocide, institutions like VCU, which are deeply entangled with weapon manufacturers and corporate donors, become fearful,' Haddad said. 'So they twist the rules, they rewrite the policies, and they try to silence us … But it's all about power. Our demands for justice are a threat to their complicity.' The strategic rewriting of the rules isn't unique to VCU. It's taking place across the United States as university administrators clamp down on protests supporting Palestinian rights. In one of many other examples, dozens of faculty members and students were temporarily suspended from Harvard's library in late 2024 after they sat quietly reading in the library with signs that either supported free speech or opposed the war in Gaza, though a similar protest in December 2023 carried no such sanction. Had any of these students been protesting Russia's war on Ukraine, you can be sure these administrations would have responded with adulation. Universities, after all, pride themselves on being the testing grounds for society's collective values. As sites of contemplation and exploration, they function as incubators for future leaders. But when it comes to the question of Palestine, a different pattern begins to emerge. Rather than listen to students who want to hold Israel accountable for its actions, those in positions of power in the university are opting to change the rules instead. Such dubious rule changes are not just for our students. In a damning report published in January, ProPublica dissected the many ways that the Biden administration kept shifting the goalposts in Israel's favor after 7 October 2023. Remember the threats of sanctions against Israel for invading Rafah? (It's a 'red line,' Biden said.) Or the 30-day ultimatum placed on Israel to dramatically increase the food aid? But nothing happened. Outside briefly pausing a shipment of 2,000lb (0.9 tonne) bombs, the military hardware kept on coming. The Leahy law requires restricting assistance to military units of foreign governments engaged in gross human rights violations. It has never been applied to Israel. In April 2024, it looked like secretary of state Antony Blinken was about to sanction Netzah Yehuda, a notorious battalion in the Israeli Defense Forces, under the Leahy law. In the end, he punted, and the battalion not only escaped US sanctions, but according to CNN, its commanders were even assigned to train ground troops and run operations in Gaza. 'It's hard to avoid the conclusion that the red lines have all just been a smokescreen,' Stephen Walt, a professor of international affairs at Harvard Kennedy School, told ProPublica. 'The Biden administration decided to be all in and merely pretended that it was trying to do something about it.' Leahy isn't the only US law that Israeli impunity is pushing to a breaking point. In late April 2024, the US government's leading agencies on humanitarian assistance concluded that Israel was deliberately blocking entry of food and medicine into Gaza. The US Foreign Assistance Act requires the government to suspend military assistance to any country that 'restricts, directly or indirectly, the transport or delivery of United States humanitarian assistance'. Blinken just ignored the evidence provided by his own government. 'We do not currently assess that the Israeli government is prohibiting or otherwise restricting the transport or delivery of US humanitarian assistance,' he informed Congress. The rules bend like reeds when it comes to Israel, which in March 2025 also broke the ceasefire that the Trump administration had helped negotiate in January. And now we are witnessing a new level of cruelty: the use of starvation as a weapon of war. Meanwhile Israeli politicians openly call for ethnic cleansing. Bezalel Smotrich, the far-right finance minister, bragged that Israel is 'destroying everything that's left of the Gaza Strip' and that 'the army is leaving no stone unturned.' He added: 'We are conquering, cleansing and remaining in Gaza until Hamas is destroyed.' And his idea of Hamas is expansive. 'We're eliminating ministers, bureaucrats, money handlers – everyone who holds up Hamas's civilian rule,' he explained. Killing civilian members of government (as they are not combatants) is a war crime. The US and the international community, again, do nothing. Every day, the previously unheard of is not just spoken aloud but also acted upon – precisely because it elicits little reaction. Two retired Israeli air force pilots wrote in the Israeli newspaper Haaretz's Hebrew edition that 'a member of the Knesset even boasted that one of the [Israeli] government's achievements is the ability to kill 100 people a day in Gaza without anyone being shocked' (an excerpt of the Haaretz article was quoted by columnist Thomas Friedman in the New York Times.) This steady shift of the acceptable has resulted in criminal policies and practices of forcible displacement, mass suffering and genocide, all conducted under passive acquiescence or active complicity of powerful countries. Even the normally reticent Red Cross is speaking out in horror. 'Humanity is failing in Gaza,' Mirjana Spoljaric Egger, president of the International Committee for the Red Cross, told the BBC's Jeremy Bowen recently. 'The fact that we are watching a people being entirely stripped of its human dignity should really shock our collective conscience,' she lamented. Yet, official outrage is at best muted as all that was once considered institutionally solid melts into air. What is it about Israel that enables it to get away with murder? The United States has long shielded Israel from international criticism and supported it militarily. The reasons offered for that support usually range from the 'unbreakable' bond shared between the two countries to the power of the American-Israel Public Affairs Committee (Aipac) in Washington. One could reasonably argue that the only thing different about this current war is the scale. But it's not just Washington. Israel and the question of Palestine produce incredibly fraught divisions throughout much of the western world. Denmark recently banned children gearing up to vote in a nationwide youth election from debating Palestinian sovereignty. Why? In a conversation with the New York Times' Ezra Klein, professor of international human rights law Aslı Bâli offered one explanation for what's different about Palestine. In 1948, she notes, Palestine was 'the only territory that had been slated to be decolonized at the creation of the United Nations … that has [still] not been decolonized'. South Africa was once in that category. For decades, Palestine and South Africa were 'understood as ongoing examples of incomplete decolonization that continued long after the rest of the world had been fully decolonized'. Today, Palestine is the last exception to that historical process – a holdover plainly clear to the people who were once subject to colonization, but that the western world refuses to acknowledge as an aberration. In other words, for many in the US and much of the western world, the creation of the state of Israel is understood as the fulfillment of Jewish national aspirations. For the rest of the world, the same fulfillment of Jewish national aspirations has rendered the decolonization of Palestine incomplete. In 2003, the historian Tony Judt wrote that the 'problem with Israel [is] … that it arrived too late. It has imported a characteristically late-19th-century separatist project into a world that has moved on, a world of individual rights, open frontiers, and international law. The very idea of a 'Jewish state' – a state in which Jews and the Jewish religion have exclusive privileges from which non-Jewish citizens are forever excluded – is rooted in another time and place. Israel, in short, is an anachronism.' Judt's idea that Israel is a relic of another era requires understanding how the global push for decolonization significantly accelerated after 1945. The result was a new world – but one that forsook the Palestinians, leaving them abandoned in refugee camps in 1948. This new world, emerging out of the ashes of the second world war, became what we today call 'the rules-based international order', of which international law is a key component. International law became much more codified in this time as well. The year 1948 was not only the date of the Palestinian Nakba (Arabic for 'catastrophe:) and Israel's independence. It was also the year that the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) was passed. Along with the UN Charter of 1945, the UDHR serves as the principal basis of international human rights law. But what good is a 'rules-based international order' if the rules keep shifting? The truth is that we've never really lived in a 'rules-based international order', or at least not the one that most people imagine when they hear the phrase. The idea that international law establishes limits on the actions of states did not prevent the Rwandan genocide. The 'rules-based international order' didn't stop the US's 'illegal' invasion of Iraq in 2003. Long before 2023, Israel routinely violated Security Council resolutions. It didn't stop Hamas from committing its war crimes on 7 October. The problem with international law is not just the lack of an enforcement mechanism to compel compliance of rogue states. The problem with international law is that 'it is more likely to serve as a tool of the strong than of the weak,' the legal theorist Ian Hurd writes in his 2017 book, How to Do Things with International Law. We tend to think of the law as an agreed-upon limit on our actions. As Dwight D Eisenhower famously said: 'The world no longer has a choice between force and law. If civilization is to survive, it must choose the rule of law.' But what if law is better understood as a system that, yes, restricts behavior but more importantly validates what's possible? Whoever gets to define the limits gets to define what's acceptable. As such, the powerful are far more likely to shift the ground of what's acceptable to their advantage. As Hurd explains, international law 'facilitates empire in the traditional sense because strong states … shape the meaning of international rules and obligations through interpretation and practice'. Though international law generally bans warfare, it carves out an exception for self-defense, and powerful states are the ones that can shift the line on what constitutes legitimate self-defense. (Israel broadly claims self-defense for its aggression on Iran, for example, as Russia explicitly claims self-defense for attacking Ukraine.) In his book, Hurd examines how the US has justified its use of drone warfare and even torture by appealing to international law. International law, for Hurd, is not a system that rests above politics. It is politics. The point I take from Hurd is not that international law doesn't exist or that it's not valuable. Clearly, there's a need for rules to protect civilians and prevent war. International humanitarian law is also a living and breathing thing that adapts and expands. Additional protocols to the Geneva conventions were adopted in 1977. The Rome Statute that established the International Criminal Court was passed in 1998. But international law is also repeatedly put under stress, routinely violated, and consistently pushed into the service of strong states. As such, international law in practice is better understood as a constantly shifting line of acceptable behavior. We may now be reaching the point where that line has shifted so far from the founding intentions of international law that the system itself is on the brink of collapse. Israel's campaign in Gaza carries the terrifying possibility of such a radical shifting of the line of acceptability that it makes genocide a lawful weapon of war. If you think I'm being hyperbolic, consider what Colin Jones wrote in the New Yorker earlier this year. Jones consulted key lawyers in the American military establishment about their views on Israel's campaign in Gaza. What he found was a US military that is deeply concerned about being hobbled by international law when prosecuting a future war against a major power such as China – so much so that Israel's 'loosened restraints on civilian casualties' usefully shifts the goalposts for future US conduct. To the US military, Jones writes: 'Gaza not only looks like a dress rehearsal for the kind of combat US soldiers may face. It is a test of the American public's tolerance for the levels of death and destruction that such kinds of warfare entail.' What future hell are we currently living in? In his book, Hurd also illustrates a fundamental difference between domestic and international legal regimes. The expectation we have of domestic law, he says, is that it is 'clear, stable, and known in advance', whereas international law is up to the consent of states. Trump's contempt for institutions of international law couldn't be clearer. He placed sanctions on judges and jurists of the International Criminal Court after arrest warrants were issued against Israel's prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, and former defense minister Yoav Gallant. (He issued similar sanctions in 2020.) He defied the UN Charter by bombing Iran, a sovereign nation not posing an imminent risk to the United States. The global response? A mild rebuke from the French president, Emmanuel Macron, and full-throated support from Nato secretary general Mark Rutte. His disdain for domestic institutions of law is just as visible. He has invoked phony emergencies to claim 'emergency powers' like no president before him, enabling him to get around Congress and, essentially, rule by decree. He deployed military troops in California, against the wishes of its governor, and an appeals court has even authorized his decision. He is walking the line of open defiance of various judicial orders. What is happening? It's tempting to think that we are living in a new era of lawlessness, but that would fail to capture the change staring us in the face. This is not about the lack of law. It's about the remaking of the law. What Trump and leaders like him seek is not so much to destroy the law as to colonize it, to possess the law by determining its parameters to serve their interests. For them, the law exists to bend to their will, to destroy their adversaries, and to provide an alibi for behavior which, in a better version of our world, would be punished as criminal. Maybe it's not surprising that something as vulnerable as international law could crack under today's pressures. What may be surprising is how we're also losing our domestic sense of stability, peace and security along with it and how connected the struggle for Palestine is to this domestic dismantling, especially when it comes to free expression. Just ask Sereen Haddad or Mahmoud Khalil, the Palestinian rights activist who spent 104 days in detention for his constitutionally protected political speech and still faces the prospect of deportation. The convention on the prevention and punishment of the crime of genocide was, like the UDHR, approved in the fateful year of 1948. Its arrival was urgent and necessary after the Nazi Holocaust of the Jewish people, and modern international law was constructed on the understanding that together we in the international community would work together to prevent future genocides. While we have failed to live up to that promise in the past, today it is Israel's acts of extermination and genocide of Palestinians in Gaza, funded and enabled at every turn by a complicit west, that has contributed the most to the demise of the global, rules-based order. The way it looks today, the system won't make it to 100 years. And its collapse can be directly attributed to the hypocrisy with which the world has treated the Palestinians. No other group has been subjected to such a prolonged state of loss in the post-1945 liberal order. Palestinian refugees constitute 'the world's oldest and largest protracted refugee situation' in the modern world. And the demands placed on Palestinians simply to survive get more barbaric by the hour. In Gaza, desperate Palestinians are gunned down by snipers and drones daily as they wait for food. A drought is imminent because Israel's attacks have destroyed most of the strip's wastewater treatment plants, sewage systems, reservoirs and pipes. Up to 98% of Gaza's farmland has been destroyed by Israel. This is a form of total war the modern world should never see, let alone condone. No one knows what will come to replace the international system that is currently collapsing around us, but any political system that prioritizes punishing those who protest genocide rather than stopping the killing has clearly exhausted itself. If there's a glimmer of hope in all this rage-inducing misery, it can be found in the growing number of people around the world who refuse to be intimidated into silence. We may have seen a small example of that courage in New York City recently, and I'm not talking only about Zohran Mamdani winning the Democratic party nomination for mayor. That same day, two of Brooklyn's progressive politicians, Alexa Avilés and Shahana Hanif, were running for renomination. Both supported Palestine, both were relentlessly attacked for their positions on Gaza, and both refused to change their views. Pro-Israel donors poured money into their opponents' campaigns. Yet both handily won their races. Multiple factors go into winning any political campaign, but any expressed support for Palestine used to be a death knell. Could it be that we're on the cusp of change? Maybe Palestinian freedom is no longer a liability but is now a real winning position in politics? Palestine is perhaps the clearest expression today, as Haddad told me, of how 'power feels threatened by the truth.' She continued: 'If they are so afraid of a student with a sign or a chalked message or a demand for justice, then we are stronger than they want us to believe.' She better be right. For all our sakes.
Telegraph
an hour ago
- Telegraph
Iranian forces target Baha'i religious minority in post-ceasefire crackdown
Iranian authorities have begun a sweeping crackdown on members of the Baha'i religious minority. Since the June 24 ceasefire between Israel and Iran, dozens of Baha'i homes have been targeted in co-ordinated raids carried out by armed intelligence agents, often in the early hours of the morning. Families in cities across the Islamic Republic have reported masked officers entering their bedrooms, seizing electronic devices, religious texts and personal belongings. In some cases, parents and children have been detained and taken to undisclosed locations. Religious materials – including prayer books and writings of the Baha'i faith – are being treated as contraband. The crackdown is so intense that many community members are afraid to speak out about the arrests, fearing their loved ones who are held in prison could face harsher treatment, and even execution. Shia Islam is Iran's official religion. The constitution recognises some minority faiths like Christianity, Judaism and Zoroastrianism, but not the Baha'i faith, a relatively new religion that was founded in 19th-century Persia, which is now Iran. Despite having no political organisation or ties to foreign powers, its members are frequently accused of espionage or propaganda activities against the regime. Since the ceasefire began, authorities have arrested more than 700 people on espionage accusations with at least six already executed by hanging. But for the Baha'i community, this is more than just a crackdown – it is the latest step in a 46-year effort to eradicate them. For Alhan Taefi, whose 62-year-old mother, Fariba Kamalabadi, is among Iran's most prominent Baha'i prisoners, the escalation has brought fresh anguish as she watches her mother's deteriorating condition and a wave of arrests sweeping through her community. 'I honestly cannot imagine how she's going to survive seven more years in these conditions,' Ms Taefi told The Telegraph from Manchester. 'I'm sure that if they want to keep her there, there's absolutely no possibility that she'll survive until the end of seven years and come out alive.' When Israeli missiles struck Evin prison during last month's war, she lost contact with her mother for 48 hours and did not know if she was alive or dead. 'We were completely cut off from them for nearly two days,' Ms Taefi said. 'When she finally managed to call, we learnt they had been transferred to Qarchak prison the day after the missile attack.' Sixty prisoners, most of whom are elderly, are crammed into a space a quarter of the size of their previous cell. Her mother now shares a 12-square-metre room with seven other women, surrounded by triple-bunk beds so low the prisoners cannot sit upright. Ms Taefi explained: 'She told me they have one tiny table and two chairs for eight people. 'They have to take turns – two at a time – to sit and eat their meals, then go back to their beds so the next two can eat. There's literally no room for everyone to stand at once. 'The conditions for prisoners in Qarchak prison are so bad that on the first day my mother called us from Qarchak prison, she said, 'I wish we had died when that missile hit and didn't have to live in these conditions.'' The average age of the women imprisoned in Qarchak, a former livestock facility that has been converted into a detention centre 40 miles south of the Iranian capital, is 57. Many suffer from back pain, neck problems and other ailments that make lying flat for 20 hours a day pure torture. Ms Taefi said: 'My mother is 62. She told me she can't even climb to the upper bunks because she's afraid of falling. 'So she spends most of the day lying down, which is causing terrible physical problems. I asked my mother today, 'How do you eat?' because the beds they have are triple bunk, and the height isn't very tall, so they can't even sit in them. They have to lie flat.' Across Iran, the raids have followed the same pattern. In central Baharestan agents ransacked 15 homes, arresting Navid Tashakkor. In Shiraz, Arman Nikaein and Iman Rahmat Panah were detained. In Northern Qaemshahr, Raquel Ataeian was arrested. In northern Joybar, armed forces raided a couple's bedroom while they slept. Computer specialist Golriz Nourani, 39, endured her second raid since 2022. Six intelligence agents stormed Farideh Jaberi's home at 6pm, confiscating everything from laptops to family photographs. 'This is the first time I've heard of arrests like this,' one community member told The Telegraph. 'They never came into bedrooms before. It shows no respect for privacy.' Crackdown is 'assault on Iranian society' When asked why Iranian authorities often increase pressure on the Baha'i during times of international distraction, the community member said it has always been this way. 'I think there's always been pressure on the Baha'i community, but it seems like whenever there's a bigger news story, they use that as cover,' he said. 'I think they calculate that when the world's attention is elsewhere, they can act with less scrutiny.' They believe authorities know the Baha'i community poses no security threat despite decades of espionage accusations. 'I'm sure that it's impossible for them not to know, after all these years, that the Baha'i community is completely innocent and has done nothing illegal,' he added. 'I think it's because the Baha'i community is very peaceful and doesn't resort to violence. Maybe they feel comfortable that they can pressure these people because Baha'is respond with forbearance and patience.' Ms Kamalabadi has been arrested four times. She spent 10 years in prison before 2017 and was arrested again in 2022. Mohammad Javad Akbarin, an Iranian religious scholar, said: 'What the Islamic Republic is doing today to our Baha'i fellow citizens is not merely a human rights violation against the Baha'is – it is an assault on Iranian society itself, on its diversity and pluralism.' As the crackdown intensifies, families like Ms Taefi's face a hard choice: speak out and risk worsening the situation for their loved ones, or stay silent and watch the destruction continue. 'I don't want to say something wrong,' Ms Taefi said. 'But the conditions are terrible for these people. We are asking for my mother and others to be released on bail, or with ankle monitors, or in any way possible – even temporarily – until conditions improve.'
