a cura di Angjelina Glasnovic
Roots do grow in dry soil, but their success varies land from land, war from war. Whether watered down or plucked too early, Palestine’s roots or rather its culture has been drying out since 1948, and now its decomposition continues in the inflamed hands of Benjamin Netenyahu.
It’s no secret that a civilization’s biggest enemy is suppression, and Israel has been known for the cultivation of censorship ever since 1953, after the creation of the ‘Editor’s Committee.’ As a cooperation between the government and the press, both parties found an agreement that newspapers were allowed to exercise self-censorship; where articles that touched directly on national security had to be submitted to the military censor. This press monitor would act as a security reviewer who would control all statistics that covered political affairs; limiting the outspread of information.
Not only does this affect the flow of journalism within Israel, but it also restricts the form of knowledge citizens acquire from news outlets with different views, creating a homogeneous sphere where culture is stripped away, seemingly through a strategized attack.
For decades, the Palestinian people have faced more than military occupation—they have endured a calculated attempt to erase their cultural identity. Nowhere is this clearer than in the occupied territories, where even the act of remembering has become a threat, and nowhere is this erasure felt more intimately than in the case of Toni Sabella.
Toni is a well-known figure in Jerusalem. He owns Gateway—a bookstore and coffee shop tucked into the heart of the Old City. He’s also a respected business professor at Birzeit University. But to the community, Toni is more than that: he is a caretaker of Palestinian culture, through the books displayed at his shop.
On September 3rd, 2025, Israeli police raided Toni’s bookstore. Without a warrant, they searched the premises, confiscated every book they could find—even cookbooks focused on Palestinian cuisine—and arrested Toni under the vague charge of “distribution harmful to public order.” He was taken for interrogation, held for hours, and then released—but only on the condition that he stays away from the Old City for two weeks.
It later emerged through Toni’s legal team claiming that “the police had no legal authorization to search his shop or detain him; yet the damage had already been done. Books were gone, business
disrupted, and the message was clear, preserving Palestinian culture, even through food or literature, is a punishable offense.”
Toni’s case is not an exception. In Jerusalem, similar crackdowns have taken place. Another prominent instance is the Educational Bookshop, which faced a comparable raid, further establishing the criminalization of the Palestinian expression.
In the occupied West Bank and Gaza Strip, Arab journalists were thrown to strict censorship. Every article had to be approved by Israeli military censors before it could be printed. Any newspaper that refused to comply risked immediate shutdown. During the First Intifada in 1987—a Palestinian uprising against Israeli occupation—this censorship intensified as a ‘consequence’ of the revolt. Dozens of Arabic publications were shut down, and many journalists were arrested on suspicion of negative influence, but this control didn’t end with journalism.
In recent years, heritage suppression has taken on new forms—disguised as security measures, urban redevelopment, or economic initiatives. What’s coming along is not just the destruction of a land, but the synthesization of history. It is a project that combines war and surveillance to deracinate Palestinian existence from its territory.
In May 2024, Israel highlighted its “Gaza 2035” initiative—a redevelopment plan that presents Gaza as an empty canvas for high-tech investment. With slides showcasing futuristic towers, green energy projects, and luxury real estate, a land remade not for its people, but for profit.
This colonial vision is accompanied by the destruction of historical buildings and heritage. Gaza’s ancient mosques, churches, libraries, markets, and homes, have been disintegrated by flames. According to UNESCO, by August 2025, at least 110 cultural sites had been damaged or destroyed since the recent escalation in October 2023. This includes 77 historic buildings, 13 religious sites, archaeological treasures, and even museums. The targeting of these spaces represents more than material damage—it is an attack on continuity. Making Netanyahu’s claims as a ‘war on self defense’ contradict his actions in the field.
What we’re witnessing is not simply the violence of war. It is a deliberate and multilayered assault on Palestinian culture, economy, space, and memory. It is a system where military occupation merges with capitalist redevelopment and where cultural survival itself is treated as subversion.
Through raids on coffee shops, bookstores, the bombing of heritage sites, and policies that render Palestinians stateless, Israel’s actions are not only destroying buildings—they are attempting to destroy a people’s narrative.
