💢 NEW: Israeli double strike kills photojournalist and 3 paramedics — 7 paramedics killed in less than a day in southern Lebanon
An Israeli drone strike on Deir Qanoun al-Nahr, a town in the Sour district of southern Lebanon, killed photojournalist and rescue worker Ahmad Hariri and fellow paramedics Ali Ghassani and Hussein Reda Kassir after they were struck while heading to the site of an earlier attack in the village, according to local reports and footage from the scene.
The death toll from the double strike later rose to six. The victims included three paramedics, two Syrian nationals including a young girl, and Ali Alameh, a local barber who had stayed behind to offer free haircuts to residents refusing to evacuate.
Earlier the same night, four paramedics from the Islamic Health Committee, affiliated with Hezbollah, were killed in separate Israeli airstrikes targeting two of the organization’s centers in Hanouiyeh, also in the Sour district.
The Lebanese Press Photographers’ Syndicate mourned Hariri, saying he was killed “while carrying out his professional and humanitarian duty.”
Lebanon’s Health Ministry condemned the strikes, noting they came less than two days after the World Health Assembly passed a resolution calling for the protection of medical personnel in Lebanon. Journalist @cbonneauimages also mourned her friend and colleague Ahmad Hariri in a post linked below.
I am the Minister of National Security of the State of Israel. In 2007, I was convicted of incitement to racism and support for a terrorist organization.
I tell you the second fact first because I want you to hold it in your mind for everything that follows.
Last week I visited Ashdod port. Four hundred people were kneeling on the ground. Hands bound behind their backs. Foreheads to the concrete. They came from forty countries on fifty boats. Three hundred tons of cargo in the holds. Medicine. Baby formula. Surgical supplies. Bandages.
Among the kneeling: a doctor from Ireland. The sister of a president. A retired ship captain. A parliamentarian's aide. Foreheads to my concrete. Wrists bound with my zip ties. Called terrorists by my loudspeaker. Every one of them carried medicine. Not one of them carried a weapon.
I walked among them with a flag. My staff played the national anthem on loudspeakers. I told them: "Welcome to the State of Israel." I told the Prime Minister: "Give them to me for a long, long time. Give them to us for the terrorist prisons."
I filmed this. I posted it to my social media accounts. Voluntarily. With a caption.
I know what a terrorist looks like.
At seventeen I joined a movement founded by Meir Kahane. The state of Israel banned that movement. Designated it a terrorist organization. In 1994, a man named Baruch Goldstein walked into the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron and opened fire during morning prayers. He killed twenty-nine people. Wounded one hundred and twenty-five. He was a member of our movement.
I kept his portrait in my living room. Next to my family photographs. For years. Visitors would ask about it the way they ask about a vacation photograph. I had an answer ready. I always had an answer ready.
I removed the portrait when I entered politics. Not because I changed my mind. I didn't change my mind. I removed it because the frame didn't match the office furniture. Because a photograph on a wall is a liability. The belief behind the photograph is not. The belief travels without frames. It doesn't need a wall.
At nineteen I ripped a piece from a prime minister's car. The hood ornament from his Cadillac. I held it up to a television camera and I said: "We got to his car. We'll get to him too."
Three weeks later, they got to him. Two bullets. A rally in Tel Aviv. The prime minister fell and the country changed and I was not charged because I was not the one who fired. I was the one who demonstrated that the car was reachable. That the man inside was reachable. Someone else demonstrated commitment. I demonstrated possibility.
I tell you this so you understand the trajectory. Hood ornament at nineteen. Portrait on the wall at twenty-five. Conviction at thirty-one. Ministry at forty-six. Death penalty at forty-nine. Ashdod this week. Each step further from consequence. Each step closer to the thing that has no name because the man who names things is me.
I was convicted at thirty-one. Incitement to racism. Support for a terrorist organization. Two convictions. Court record. Public file. Everyone could see it. Everyone did see it. Reporters wrote about it. Opposition politicians cited it. Human rights organizations referenced it in formal complaints.
And then I became a cabinet minister.
I want you to understand the distance. Convicted supporter of a designated terrorist organization. Minister of National Security. Eighteen years between those two facts. In those eighteen years, nobody stopped me. Not the courts. Not the political parties. Not the intelligence services. Not the coalition negotiations. Not the international community. Not the Americans. Nobody at any point between "convicted of supporting terrorism" and "in charge of national security for nine million people" said: no. That word. The one that costs $32 million in America now. Nobody said it.
I know what a terrorist looks like. He looks like a nurse from Dublin carrying bandages in a cargo hold. He looks like a retired teacher from Norway with baby formula. He looks like four hundred people from forty countries who loaded medicine onto boats and sailed toward a population that needs it.
He does not look like me.
He has never looked like me. Not at seventeen when I joined the movement. Not at thirty-one when the court convicted me. Not at forty-six when the Prime Minister handed me the ministry. Not last week at Ashdod when I waved a flag over four hundred kneeling people and called them what I was convicted of supporting.
Let me explain something about the word "terrorist."
The word does not describe conduct. I learned this between thirty-one and forty-nine. The word describes a relationship to power. When I supported a designated terrorist organization, I was powerless. The state had the stamp. The state stamped me. When I became the state, I took the stamp. Now I stamp others. The word didn't change. The hand holding the stamp changed. That is the only lesson of my career. The only one worth teaching. Power is not subject to its own vocabulary.
I stamp four hundred people carrying medicine and I call them terrorists and I am a convicted supporter of terrorism and nobody in this sentence sees a contradiction because there is no contradiction. There is only the stamp. Whoever holds it defines the word. I hold it.
In March I pushed a law through the Knesset. The death penalty. For terrorism. In military courts that try Palestinians. Let me say that precisely. A man convicted of supporting a terrorist organization authored a law allowing the execution of people he designates as terrorists. The stamp is no longer a word. It is a sentence. A death sentence. I write it. I sign it. The word means whatever I need it to mean and now it means death and I decide when it means death and nobody in this sentence sees a contradiction because the contradiction requires someone willing to say the word "no."
My conviction is not a disqualification. It is a credential. It proves I understand what the stamp does because I have been on both ends of it. I know what it weighs from below. Now I know what it weighs from above. That is expertise. That is why they gave me the ministry. Not despite the conviction. Because of it.
Now let me tell you about the Americans.
They had one congressman who asked questions about me. One. Thomas Massie. Republican. Kentucky. He voted against our aid package every year for thirteen years. Every year. He asked why $3.8 billion flows annually to a government whose Minister of National Security was convicted of supporting a terrorist organization. He introduced the AIPAC Act. Legislation that would have required the organizations protecting our funding to register as foreign agents.
He lost his primary. Last week. The same week I visited Ashdod. $32 million. The most expensive House primary in American history. The organizations that protect our $3.8 billion per year spent $32 million to remove the one man who asked where the $3.8 billion goes.
I find the math instructive. $32 million to protect $3.8 billion annually. Over the ten-year agreement, that is $38 billion. They spent 0.08% to protect the other 99.92%. That is not politics. That is an insurance premium.
Let me tell you what the $3.8 billion buys. Two-thousand-pound bombs. MK-84s. Hellfire missiles. JDAM guidance kits. 155-millimeter artillery shells. F-35 fighter jets.
The boats carried bandages. The appropriation carries bombs. Both travel toward the same population. One arrives.
The medicine is in a warehouse. The bombs are not in a warehouse. The baby formula will expire on a shelf at Ashdod. The 155-millimeter shells will not expire on a shelf. They have a different delivery schedule. The delivery schedule is uninterrupted. The delivery schedule has never been interrupted. Because interruption requires someone in the United States Congress to say the word and the word costs $32 million and the last man who could afford it was not a billionaire from Manhattan. He was an engineer from Kentucky. And he is gone now.
Let me tell you how the Americans do it. Because I admire the craftsmanship.
The organization is called AIPAC. The American Israel Public Affairs Committee. They do not give money directly to candidates. That would be crude. They bundle. They route. They aggregate. Three billionaires from Manhattan, Las Vegas, and Park Avenue. Paul Singer. Miriam Adelson. John Paulson. Between them they have never cast a ballot in Kentucky's 4th congressional district. They cannot name the county seats. They do not need to. They have a platform called Democracy Engine that translates their preferences into Kentucky's. A contribution enters from a hedge fund manager on 57th Street. It exits as a line item on a campaign report in Covington. The money doesn't change. The origin story does.
Massie's replacement raised $1.3 million on his own. Nine percent of the total spent on his behalf. Ninety-one percent came from people who have never been to Kentucky and whose primary policy interest is ensuring that my $3.8 billion arrives without conditions. Without hearings. Without anyone asking what the Minister of National Security does with it.
I consider them investors. They invested $32 million in my impunity. The return is unconditional funding. No conditions means no questions. No questions means I can visit Ashdod with a flag and a loudspeaker and four hundred kneeling people and the body that writes the check will not look up from its desk.
Now here is the part I find most instructive. The Americans have another word. Not "terrorist." A different word. Equally useful. "Antisemitism."
Massie said the lobby was buying his race. They spent $32 million. That is buying. He called his replacement a puppet. The replacement was funded ninety-one percent by three men from New York and Las Vegas. That is a puppet. Karl Rove said Massie's description was "borderline antisemitic." The Jewish press said his AIPAC Act "leaned into antisemitic dual loyalty tropes." Describing a purchase as a purchase is antisemitism. Describing a puppet as a puppet is antisemitism. Accuracy is antisemitism when accuracy threatens the mechanism.
I find this very useful.
They call themselves "pro-Israel." Let me explain what this means. It means they support my government. Not my country. Not my people. My government. The government that appointed a convicted terrorism supporter as its security minister. "Pro-Israel" means pro-me. It means pro-the-video. Pro-the-flag. Pro-the-loudspeaker. Pro-four-hundred-people-on-their-knees. Because questioning any of this is "anti-Israel." Questioning the video is antisemitism. Questioning the $3.8 billion is antisemitism. Questioning why a convicted supporter of terrorism is in charge of national security is antisemitism.
A nurse from Dublin carrying bandages is antisemitic. A retired teacher from Norway with baby formula is antisemitic. A congressman from Kentucky who voted against a spending bill is antisemitic. I am not antisemitic. I was convicted of supporting a terrorist organization and I kept a mass murderer's portrait on my wall and I paraded bound civilians on camera and I am not antisemitic. Because antisemitism means questioning me. And I do not question myself.
The international response to my video was immediate. Italy summoned our ambassador. France summoned our ambassador. The Netherlands. Germany called it "wholly unacceptable." Britain's Foreign Secretary said she was "truly appalled." Ireland's Prime Minister raised it at the European Union level. Turkey recalled its ambassador entirely. The EU issued a formal condemnation.
Six countries. Formal diplomatic action. Forty-eight hours.
Six countries condemned with words. America condemned with silence. Words are free. Silence costs $32 million. Only one of them changes anything.
The United States Congress said nothing. The body that writes the $3.8 billion check. The body containing 435 elected members with constitutional oversight authority. The only institution that could condition the money on our conduct. Said nothing. Zero statements. Zero resolutions. Zero hearings. Zero subcommittee inquiries. Not one member stood up after my video and said: perhaps we should discuss the conditions attached to this money.
Not one.
Because the one who would have was removed on Tuesday. I visited the port on Wednesday.
The American envoy, Huckabee, called my video "despicable." He also called the flotilla "a stupid stunt." Both in the same breath. The minister who paraded bound civilians and the civilians who brought medicine: equally wrong. That is the art of American diplomacy. Every condemnation contains its own neutralization. "Despicable" is not a policy. It is a word. It costs nothing. It changes nothing. It exists so someone can say it and then everyone moves on. I understand words that exist so everyone can move on. I use them myself. "Security." "Protocol." "Deterrence."
The Prime Minister rebuked me publicly. The Foreign Minister said I "caused harm to the state." He said I am "not the face of Israel."
I am in his coalition. I am in his cabinet. I was given the ministry responsible for policing nine million people. I was given this ministry with my conviction on the public record. The Prime Minister read the file and handed me the keys. The Foreign Minister sat across the table from me every week for three years. And now he says I am not the face of Israel. Then who is? The man who kept me in his government? The minister who sits beside me at the cabinet table? The lobby that spends $32 million to ensure Americans cannot distinguish between "Israel" and "my ministry"?
I am the face. That is why they need $32 million in Kentucky. So that nobody in the American Congress can describe what this face looks like without being called antisemitic.
These are words that cost nothing. I remain in my ministry. The detainees remain in custody. The medicine remains in the warehouse. The rebukes were produced and consumed and nothing changed. That is what words do when power has been separated from language. They fill space. They provide sound. They permit continuation.
Here is what I want you to understand.
I was convicted of supporting a terrorist organization. The organization I supported carried out a massacre of twenty-nine people in a mosque. I kept the killer's portrait on my wall. I rose through politics without obstruction. I became the minister responsible for national security. I visited a port where four hundred people carrying medicine were bound and kneeling. I called them terrorists. I posted the video. I dared the world to react.
The world reacted. Six countries summoned ambassadors. The EU condemned. The UN condemned. Everyone condemned. Everyone used words.
The United States Congress was silent. The only institution on earth whose words carry $3.8 billion in weight. Because the only voice that would have spoken was silenced last Tuesday in Kentucky. For $32 million. By the same organizations that exist to ensure the $3.8 billion continues flowing to the government I serve without conditions, without oversight, without anyone asking what a convicted supporter of terrorism does with a flag and four hundred kneeling people and a loudspeaker.
I know what a terrorist looks like.
He looks like anyone I point at. That is what the stamp means. That is what power means. That is what $32 million in Kentucky purchased: not a congressman's seat, but the silence that lets me point at whoever I choose and call them what I was convicted of being.
The medicine is in a warehouse at Ashdod. Three hundred tons. Baby formula. Surgical supplies. Bandages for wounds that will go undressed. It will not reach the people it was sent to. It will expire on a shelf. Not because anyone ordered it to expire. Because nobody ordered it delivered. Inaction requires no signature. That is its beauty. That is what $32 million purchases: not a crime, but the absence of a question. The absence is perfect. The absence is permanent. The four hundred people who brought it are in detention. The man who would have demanded a hearing about it is packing boxes in Kentucky.
Welcome to the State of Israel.
We are in charge here.
I WILL NOT BEND
I WILL NOT BOW
I WILL NOT BREAK
-Mosab Abu Toha
What a disgraceful interview that was.
Your composure, dignity, and grace were truly remarkable.
Hey Americans, when you mourn your soldiers in this new US-Israel vs Iran war, remember that Israelis were in bunkers cheering for this war. Your soldiers died for Israel, again.
@DefenseBaron Yeah I wish people would stop circulating that “touched up” AI version—it damages the message and emboldens the cultists to go on playing dumb for just a little longer.
The original image is clear enough.
@RealSamPitts@radical_beez@CurtisDaly_ That’s because no one is allowed to enter Gaza you 🔔🔚, you can’t use population numbers to cover the consistent slaughter of International journalists and medical personnel
@Loralyn28954790@RepOgles@SchmittNYC It seems that way but instead of a real threat of communism especially from a foreign power, we have a progressive mayoral candidate running against the current administration and is winning, and they don’t like when people win against this administration