Jonathan Sacerdoti

Woken by sirens outside my window in Israel at 3 a.m. I made my way to the bomb shelter in the basement, reaching for my phone on the way. An unusual and urgent message appeared on the screen which had been sent to the entire nation: Home Front Command had updated its guidelines with immediate effect. Israelis are instructed to know where their nearest protected space is, to avoid unnecessary movement, and to prepare for possible extended periods in shelters. Public institutions are not to open. The meaning was clear: the long-anticipated Israeli operation against Iran’s nuclear and ballistic missile programmes had begun.

While much of the Western debate remains trapped in tired slogans and false moral narratives, events on the ground in the Middle East have taken a decisive turn. In the past 24 hours, U.S. embassies have begun evacuating non-essential staff. Military dependents are being authorised to leave key bases. Multiple reports say U.S. officials have been told Israel is fully ready to launch an operation against Iran if required, and Washington expects possible Iranian retaliation on American sites in Iraq. The U.S. anticipates that Iranian retaliation against U.S.

The United Kingdom’s decision this week to impose personal sanctions on two Israeli cabinet ministers, National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir and Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich, is a grave error – not only strategically, but morally. In concert with Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Norway, Britain claims this move defends human rights and opposes settler violence. In truth, it represents a striking double standard, a capitulation to domestic partisan pressures, and even a step towards decreased relevance on the international stage. The UK is posturing for domestic political gain The contrast between Britain’s treatment of Israeli ministers and its posture towards the enablers of terrorism is glaring.

The emergence of Yasser Abu Shabab and his 'Popular Forces' militia in eastern Rafah has become an unexpected fault line in the shifting landscape of Gaza. In recent days, a flurry of claims, counterclaims, and raw facts has begun to seep through the fog of war. Cracks are appearing in Hamas's once unchallenged grip, and new and uncertain dynamics are taking shape. Where these currents will lead is unclear. Abu Shabab himself has stepped into the spotlight with remarkable audacity. He has granted interviews, issued voice recordings, and cloaked his movement in the language of civic virtue. In a recent audio recording, he insisted: 'We have not and will not work with the occupation. Our goal is to protect Palestinian human rights from Hamas's terrorism.

Israeli forces operating inside Gaza have retrieved the body of Thai agricultural worker Nattapong Pinta, bringing to a close one of the many grim and unresolved chapters from the October 7th atrocities. In a joint operation by the Shin Bet and the IDF, based on intelligence gleaned from captured militants, the body was recovered in Rafah. Pinta had been abducted alive from Kibbutz Nir Oz during the Hamas-led assault, only to be murdered in captivity by a lesser-known but no less brutal Palestinian terror group: Kataeb al-Mujahideen. Among the cascade of horrors unleashed that day, one of the most harrowing sights remains etched in my memory Among the cascade of horrors unleashed that day, one of the most harrowing sights remains etched in my memory.

If the war in Gaza has taught the world anything, it is this: truth in war is rarely immediate. In the fog of conflict, facts take time, evidence can be manipulated and early narratives are often weaponised. Yet time and again, much of the international media – and too many public officials – refuse to learn this lesson. Faced with shocking claims, particularly when they implicate Israel, they rush to publish, to condemn, to headline. Rarely do they wait for verification. Even more rarely do they correct with the same urgency when the facts unravel.

As Israel presses ahead with Operation Gideon’s Chariots, its most ambitious military campaign in Gaza since the war began, the political landscape surrounding the conflict is shifting – and not in Israel’s favour. Britain’s suspension of trade talks, the summoning of Israeli Ambassador Tzipi Hotovely, and coordinated statements of condemnation from the UK, France and Canada mark the strongest international censure yet. For many in Jerusalem, this is not only short-sighted but morally confounding. Israel’s operation, launched with the stated aim of eliminating Hamas’s military infrastructure and securing the return of its hostages, comes after months of inconclusive ceasefires, failed negotiations, and mounting frustration.

The Nakba – Arabic for 'the catastrophe' and commemorated today – marks a profound moment of trauma in the Palestinian Arab consciousness. In 1948, following the Arab world’s rejection of the United Nations' partition plan and their subsequent military assault on the fledgling State of Israel, around 700,000 Palestinians were displaced. While Israel accepted the partition and declared independence, the Arab states and local militias initiated a war they would lose. Yet the memory of the Nakba, though born from an aggressive campaign that ended in defeat, has been carefully curated into a narrative of pure victimhood, a perennial wound severed from the choices and actions that preceded it. This phenomenon is not unique to the Palestinian case.