What’s your method of protest?: A discussion with a Medical Aid for Palestine fundraiser

A week ago, I watched 19-year-old Sha’ban al-Dalou burn to death. Al Aqsa Martyrs Hospital, located in Deir al Balah, Gaza, was struck by Israeli forces on the assertion that the hospital, which housed tents for those seeking refuge, was in the immediate vicinity of a Hamas command centre. Once alight, the flames burnt so hot and bright that those lucky enough to survive were still subject to the torture of watching on. Sha’ban was clearly pinned under the rubble, and I remember seeing the flames plastered to his face and arms. Bilal Shbair from The New York Times reported from Gaza and spoke to members of the al-Dalou family. “I called out to him, ‘Sha’ban, forgive me, son! Forgive me! I can’t do anything.”

I suppose I was also one of those people watching on. I sat in an armchair in my living room, and I watched him die on my phone.  

Many of us, safe in the West, are afforded the comfort of being able to tune out when we feel like it. At a certain level of unconcernedness that many of us reach, one can convince themselves that, tragically, they can’t do anything to help. Our algorithms are too powerful. The situation is too complex. International law is too loosely upheld. They are simply too far away. The comfort in the free subscription to the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ doctrine often prevails. 

But Mehnaz Akhtar didn’t think she was too far away. Mehnaz is a postgraduate student at the University of Warwick studying to be a teacher. She lives five miles from the local hospital where she is treated for multiple sclerosis, or MS. Earlier this year, she decided she would attempt to walk there. MS is a degenerative condition that can affect one’s ability to speak, write, and see, which makes it very difficult to walk long distances. Mehnaz told me she began showing initial symptoms 10 years ago. Her walks are logged on a GoFundMe page, which is linked to Medical Aid for Palestine, a charity operating in Gaza. 

 “I couldn’t even spend an hour in Gaza. To think of a disabled person there,” she said, pausing, “I can’t imagine it.” The longer I browsed her page, the more I wanted to know. Why was it she who got up one morning and decided she had to act? Luckily, she was happy to sit down and talk to me about that. Our conversation has been edited for clarity and brevity. 

She had a blurry background setting on, and I logged on from my overheating Barcelona flat. She appeared gentle and mild-mannered. 

The walk took her five hours. This way of raising awareness for Gaza was personal to Mehnaz, in every sense of the word. Her friends, her preparation, her walk, her own funds raised. It was a monumental achievement, and the page is still open to reach her donation target

Q: Do you have any personal stakes with Gaza? And was there a specific moment where you can remember thinking, “I must do something”?  

 “I have a very close friend from Palestine, with friends and family still in Gaza.” I was struck by the similarity to my own situation – my best friend Omar, a Gazan whom I met when I lived in Saudi Arabia. “The father of my friend had cancer and was unable to receive any medical aid. He suffered greatly.” She spared me some detail here but spoke of being moved after hearing all that her friend’s father and family had been exposed to. On top of those in need of treatment for previous conditions, at least one-quarter of those injured from the siege are estimated to have life-altering injuries, according to the WHO, and 114 hospitals and clinics have since been rendered inoperative. 

She went on to say, “I always thought about walking to the hospital where I get treated.” But Mehnaz had to prepare first, and she dedicated 2 months to doing so. On her GoFundMe, she logged her training over the weeks, where she slowly upped her weekly step count, preparing herself for the hike to come on May 27. The walk took her five hours. This way of raising awareness for Gaza was personal to Mehnaz, in every sense of the word. Her friends, her preparation, her walk, her own funds raised. It was a monumental achievement, and the page is still open to reach her donation target.

It was once frowned upon to criticise Israel publicly, and now you’re seeing more and more people doing so

Vivian Salama, The Wall Street Journal

 Q: Now that over a year has passed since October 7, has your perspective changed? Do you think the sentiment or status quo has changed on social media?  

 “Yes, I do, but my view hasn’t really changed because I was already aware of the situation.” “But,” she added, “it depends on where you’re looking. TikTok has lots of Palestine support, whereas Facebook seems more content with the Israeli side.” When asked how she thought this change in sentiment reflected Israel’s handling of Gaza, she said affirmatively, “Israel has taken the wrong approach. I just don’t understand. Schools and hospitals being bombed.” 

To be fair, I wasn’t expecting a no. In a video by The Wall Street Journal, Vivian Salama, their national security reporter, said: “It was once frowned upon to criticise Israel publicly, and now you’re seeing more and more people doing so.” That was posted eight months ago. Throughout 2024, it appears the pendulum has swung toward Palestinian support, with pro-Palestinian protests erupting in major cities and college campuses all over the world, one of them being on my home turf.  

Warwick Stands with Palestine were loud. On April 26 2024, they began a protest encampment on campus, the first of its kind in the UK, and it lasted 60 days. They also occupied the Warwick Manufacturing Group’s Digital Laboratory, and their key demand was that the university ends its relationship with the defence sector, specifically BAE Systems, which produces arms for the Israel Defence Forces (IDF). On October 17 2024, they attempted to block access to a careers fair where BAE systems were present, with all the added embellishment of chanting, loudspeakers and claiming the university had “blood on their hands.” Student response was mixed, with some standing in support and others feeling unfairly targeted by being denied access to the fair.  

We tried letters to our MPs. We tried marches. We tried rallies, and nothing seems to work to get the message across, so that’s why we have to take this level of action. Nobody listens to you unless you cause this level of disruption

Mehnaz Aktar, Medical Aid for Palestine

Q: Have you actively engaged in boycotting? And if so, do you feel like boycotting has actually done anything? 

 “Yes, I have. But it’s passive. It’s more in line with silently not going to the shops that support Israel.” This is a different form of protest. Earlier this year, chains like Burger King and Starbucks – examples of brands financially associated with or supportive of the Israeli government – have experienced depressed Q1 sales and a plummeting share price, respectively. They can and do work, and, if you’re like Mehnaz, it has more to do with your personal rationale and being discriminate with where you spend your money. The argument’s premise is a solid one: where you spend is still your own choice. However, the common retort for this, as is for most forms of protest, is that the difference made is negligible. But Mehnaz pointed to our recent general election.  

Labour was set to, and did, win by a landslide, but there were several instances where their support for key constituencies was undermined or sometimes completely overturned by candidates running on pro-Gaza platforms. Check it out here.  

Mehnaz´s journey was personal to her, and if anything, telling of the conviction she holds. For others, quieter, more deliberate financial decisions are enough. Or perhaps you remain steadfast in your belief that, like Just Stop Oil and Warwick Stands With Palestine, the world needs a slap across the face if it is going to listen

Q: And to what extent do you think anger, as opposed to support, can be productive in reaching a social conclusion on this issue? Would you rather people be angry at Israel or supportive of Palestine? 

This question generated the most response from Mehnaz, but her stance was still clear: “You can achieve more action with anger. Peaceful protests are good, but to get ahead, you need to take a step forward.” She referenced Just Stop Oil activist Gabriela Ditton explaining how certain types of protest weren’t working back when the group blocked parts of the M25. “We tried letters to our MPs. We tried marches. We tried rallies, and nothing seems to work to get the message across, so that’s why we have to take this level of action. Nobody listens to you unless you cause this level of disruption.” I asked for her response to those who claim they’ve been needlessly disrupted by the protests, And she told them to “balance that with the disruption that is going to happen if we don’t get our demand met.” I am reminded of Warwick Stands With Palestine. 

It can be argued that effective protest, truly effective protest, is as much a form of personal reflection as it is political action. Regardless of the shape or form our actions take, the symbol held by whatever you choose to do belongs to you. I don’t expect us all to agree. Mehnaz’s journey was particular, personal to her, and if anything, telling of the conviction she holds. For others, quieter, more deliberate financial decisions are enough. Or perhaps you remain steadfast in your belief that, like Just Stop Oil and Warwick Stands With Palestine, the world needs a slap across the face if it is going to listen.  

And not only are your actions your own, but they count, too. In my conversation with Mehnaz, and in that, I am afforded the ability to write this for an independent platform like The Boar, I am reminded that our words count. Our votes count. Our actions count, no matter their size. So, what will count enough for the world to hear about the al-Dalou family? Well, that’s always going to be up to you. But remember that it’s never an obligation. Because after all, it’s what we choose to do when no one is looking, when no one is asking you to pay attention, that matters most.