Saturday, November 01, 2025

Why we must keep marching for Palestine — even after the announcement of the first phase of Trump’s agreement

by Adnan Hmidan


A protest held in front of the U.S. Embassy marking the two-year anniversary of the October 7, 2023 attack on Gaza in Brasilia, Brazil, on October 7, 2025. [Mateus Bonomi – Anadolu Agency]
Every time the world hears of a “new development” — a roadmap, a framework, or now the first phase of Trump’s agreement — many are encouraged to believe that this could be the long-awaited turning point. Statements are issued, optimism is staged, and the international community rushes to congratulate itself for “progress.” But for Palestinians, such announcements evoke not hope, but memory — the memory of countless previous “phases” and “initiatives” that promised calm yet delivered only more destruction.

This is why we continue to march. Because every so-called breakthrough has left the fundamental injustice untouched — the same siege, the same dispossession, the same impunity — all wrapped in new language and sold to the world as diplomacy. For those who live or work among Palestinian communities, it is painfully clear that the problem has never been a lack of agreements, but the absence of justice.

Each time an agreement is announced, there is a brief moment of relief. Aid trucks cross a checkpoint. Political leaders talk of “stability.” Headlines soften. But soon, the same pattern re-emerges: renewed bombardments, deeper hunger, further displacement. What changes is not the reality of oppression, but the language used to justify it. “Phases” replace “operations”; “security arrangements” replace “occupation.” It is a cruel vocabulary designed to make injustice sound reasonable.

When we are asked, “Why protest now that an agreement has been reached?” our answer is simple: because nothing essential has changed. There is still no permanent end to the siege, no accountability for those who have committed war crimes, no guarantee that the displaced will ever return home. There is no recognition of the right to live freely and with dignity. An agreement that leaves people starving, homeless, or stateless is not a step towards peace — it is a continuation of the same crime by different means.

To remain in the streets, therefore, is not a rejection of negotiation; it is a demand that negotiations finally mean something real. Our presence is a reminder that moral pressure must not fade simply because politicians have found new language to disguise an old injustice. In the absence of accountability, protest becomes an act of moral preservation — the collective conscience refusing to be silenced.

This pattern of complicity is not unique to one country, but here in Britain it carries a particular moral weight. Our government continues to speak the language of “engagement” while maintaining the export of arms and components used in Israel’s military machinery. Since the start of the latest war on Gaza, over 67,000 Palestinians have been martyred, and vast areas have been reduced to rubble, yet British firms continue to supply critical parts for the F-35 fighter jets that bomb the Strip. Partial suspensions of export licenses have been celebrated as progress, yet key loopholes remain — most notably in the supply of components integrated into these jets. This contradiction — between calls for restraint and continued complicity — exposes the emptiness of official rhetoric.

That is why the streets matter. They are the one place where ordinary citizens can speak without filters or preconditions. British protesters — from every background and faith — have built a moral front line that refuses to let human rights be reduced to diplomatic talking points. Their persistence has forced media outlets and political leaders alike to face difficult truths: that Britain cannot claim to support international law while enabling violations of it.

Continuing to march is also a rejection of fatigue. The attempt to make the world “get used to” Palestinian suffering is itself a political tactic. Fatigue weakens solidarity and normalises the intolerable. To keep marching is to resist that moral erosion — to insist that compassion must not have an expiry date. Every chant, every placard, every rally is a small act of defiance against the idea that the powerful can decide when justice is “timely.”

Our message is clear: the British government must end its complicity in this ongoing catastrophe. It must impose a comprehensive and immediate ban on all arms exports and F-35 components to Israel, and it must openly support legal accountability through the International Court of Justice and the International Criminal Court, rather than undermining these institutions through quiet diplomacy. Anything less will only perpetuate impunity.

The movement for Palestine is not driven by anger alone. It is built on conviction — the belief that justice, though delayed, remains worth pursuing. We march not because we reject peace, but because we understand that no agreement imposed without justice can ever create it. True peace cannot coexist with siege, nor can freedom survive under occupation.

This is why we continue. Because the first phase of Trump’s agreement, like every previous plan, offers political choreography without moral substance. It changes the form but not the fact of oppression. And so long as Palestinians remain denied their rights, our duty is to keep their cause visible, urgent, and human.

We march for those who have been displaced time and again, for families who have lost everything but refuse to lose hope, and for a world that still believes in the dignity of every human life.

Until there is justice and freedom for Palestine, our footsteps will not fade.

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