States are there to protect. But so are fathers.
Abdel Aziz Majarmeh was standing next to his 13-year-old son, Islam, as he was shot dead by Israeli forces this month at the entrance to Jenin refugee camp, in the occupied West Bank.
My son fell to the ground, and then I heard the sound of a shot, he said. An army jeep came up and five or six soldiers pointed their weapons at me, telling me to leave. I didn't even know my son was martyred. I started dragging him away.
Abdel Aziz said he had gone to the camp – occupied by Israel's army since January – to retrieve family documents from his home there.
There is no one for me to complain to, he told me. They control everything. The Palestinian Authority can't even protect itself – it only implements the decisions of the Jews.
As a Palestinian, Abdel Aziz is resigned to his powerlessness. As a father, he's tormented.
In my mind, I keep asking that soldier: why pick on a 13-year-old boy? I'm standing right next to him. Shoot me. Why are you shooting children? I'm here, shoot me.
Israel's army stated it had fired to neutralize a threat posed by suspects approaching them in a closed military area but refused to clarify what threat the teenager had posed.
As international recognition for a Palestinian state increases, local leaders like Jenin's mayor, Mohammed Jarrar, note the rising Israeli military presence and control. Jarrar remarked that around 40% of Jenin is now a military area and that a significant portion of residents have been displaced.
This stark reality underscores the paradox faced by Palestinians: while international recognition may affirm their claim to statehood, the ongoing occupation and annexation movement threatens to overshadow such diplomatic gestures. As sentiments harden on both sides, the question of whether peace can emerge from this chaos looms large.