The backlash was inevitable. No sooner had directors Basel Adra, Yuval Abraham, Hamdan Ballal, and Rachel Szor accepted the Academy Award for best documentary for their film “No Other Land” — which tells the story of Israel’s ongoing  ethnic cleansing of the Masafer Yatta region in the occupied West Bank, including Basel and Hamdan’s own communities — than the attacks began.

Israeli Culture Minister Miki Zohar accused the film of “defamation” and “distort[ing] Israel’s image,” urging movie theaters in Israel to refrain from screening it. Many in the Israeli media rushed to denounce it as “propaganda” or “worse than a lie,” while the directors received a barrage of venomous hatred on social media.

We have grown accustomed to this level of Zionist blindness from Israeli politicians, journalists, and citizens, especially after Yuval and Basel faced similar vilification in the wake of their acceptance speeches at the 2024 Berlinale. What many of us didn’t anticipate, however, was how severe the backlash would be from some pro-Palestinian activists, organizations, and influencers.

Critics accused Yuval and Rachel, the two Israeli directors, of feigning solidarity with Palestinians while actually promoting a subtler form of “liberal Zionism.” Yuval, in particular, was chastised for daring to condemn the Hamas attack of October 7 in his brief speech and stating that our fates as Israelis and Palestinians are intertwined, as well as for not using the word “genocide” when denouncing Israel’s onslaught on Gaza — of which he himself has exposed many aspects. And while extending their congratulations to the Palestinian directors, some still charged the film with offering a palatable narrative that somehow absolves Israel of its crimes.

Then came the official statement from the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel (PACBI), an arm of the BDS movement, which declared that the film “certainly violates” its guidelines on anti-normalization.

I read the statement several times in both English and Arabic. It is hesitant, convoluted, and unclear — which, in my view, is a sign that the movement itself struggled to determine whether the film meets its criteria for anti-normalization: that the Israeli side of any joint project like this must affirm their opposition to occupation and apartheid and their support for the Palestinian right of return, and that the joint activity itself must constitute a form of co-resistance against the Israeli regime.

“No Other Land” is, in fact, an exemplary case of co-resistance. The directors have stated their views explicitly on every platform available to them, while the film documents and embodies a superb example of this struggle on the ground. 

The minutia of the statement’s chain of reasoning — that some of the filmmakers didn’t use the word “genocide,” or that part of the film’s funding came from an organization that, in an earlier iteration many years ago, received funding from the Israeli government — is neither convincing nor relevant. It does not justify boycotting such an important film whose Oscar win represents a huge milestone in the Palestinian struggle.

Accordingly, many Palestinian academics, activists, writers, and artists have criticized PACBI’s statement as detached and unjust. They have warned of the harm such a declaration inflicts on the camp of nonviolent resistance and much of the opposition to the occupation, from Palestinians and left-wing Israelis alike.

I will concede that those refusing to celebrate the victory of “No Other Land” are right about one thing, though it has nothing to do with the film itself nor the political positions of its directors: the film industry, particularly in the United States, only opens the door to the Palestinian narrative when it involves an Israeli partner. This is a long-standing reality that predates this film and must be challenged and criticized. Yet, on this matter, PACBI failed to say what exactly it expects us to do: are we meant not to make films at all, or to boycott all of Hollywood and its awards?

To cut through the noise of this messy and toxic debate, I decided to see what those actually living in Masafer Yatta — whose villages are raided daily by Israeli settlers, soldiers, and bulldozers — had to say about the film and the controversy it has engendered. But we should remember, too, that Basel, the film’s protagonist, is the true owner of this narrative, and has every right to express himself in whichever way he sees fit and choose who he collaborates with in his community’s struggle to remain on their land; this, after all, is the essence of the freedom we, as oppressed Palestinians, so desperately yearn for.

‘I am ashamed of all these critics’

“I don’t know what the BDS people are talking about,” Jihad Al-Nawaja, head of the village council in Susiya, told +972. “What do they want from us? I want you to quote me word-for-word: I swear to you, after many years of struggle, confrontations, arrests, beatings, and demolitions, I know — not think, know — that without people like Yuval and Jewish activists from Israel and around the world, half of Masafer Yatta’s lands would have been confiscated and razed by now. Our steadfastness here is thanks to their help.

“As far as I’m concerned, Yuval is far more Palestinian than most of these online commentators attacking him — he is Palestinian to the core,” Al-Nawaja continued. “He is Jewish and Israeli, but he understands exactly what’s happening here just as I do, and he chose to stand with us. Yuval and dozens like him have lived with us, eaten with us, slept in our homes, and confronted soldiers and settlers alongside us every single day. I invite all the critics to turn off their air conditioners, get in a car, and come live here with us for just one week. Then let’s see if they still call on me to boycott the film.”

Tariq Hathaleen, an activist from the village of Umm Al-Khair, explained: “Everything we stand for here is in real danger. We have been under daily attacks from settlers. On the same evening that the whole world was talking about [“No Other Land”] winning the Oscar, the settlers organized themselves and came to take revenge. To all those scrutinizing the legitimacy of our struggle, I say: take your statements, turn them into juice, drink it, and calm down.

“I have personally been active in this struggle for more than two decades,” Hathaleen continued. “After much thought and discussion, we decided back then that we would welcome all supporters who identify with us on the ground. Twenty years ago, groups from Israel and abroad came, and I accompanied them. For me, they are a force I cannot afford to give up on. All these years, we have heard the accusations from the boycott movement against us — we expected it.”

Hathaleen believes that the overwhelming majority of residents in the area still stand behind this decision to welcome Israeli activists into co-resistance, especially now when the community feels more vulnerable than ever. He also thinks the BDS movement’s denunciation has a class element and is part of a struggle over narrative ownership.

“Palestinians in the diaspora, although they are the third generation to the Nakba, live with the privileges that Western countries grant them,” Hathaleen said. “They are educated and multilingual. Alongside them are wealthy intellectuals in the major cities of the West Bank who believe they know what the Palestinian struggle needs. And then, with this film, suddenly a group of simple people — farmers and shepherds, students and workers — managed to reach the world’s stage with a single documentary film. Believe me, if one of them had initiated the film and worked on it, we wouldn’t have heard these voices [calling to boycott it], and we would be celebrating its screening in Ramallah.”

For Nidal Younis, the head of the Masafer Yatta village council, the success of “No Other Land” at the Oscars should not only be celebrated, but used “as a lever to shed more light on what is happening in Masafer Yatta and all of Palestine. In the current reality, with settler violence and daily attacks on our communities, alongside the moral decline in Israeli society, this film is a very loud cry against oppression and injustice. No film can bring about historical justice to our people, but it is one of the available means in our struggle, and must be used in our international efforts.”

Regarding the PACBI statement against the film, Younis told +972 “I respect the criticism: I myself think the film is calling for justice within the [existing] de facto regime, and I don’t accept that. But the pros outweigh the cons, and  the film should not be boycotted. It tells our story, the Palestinian story — there is no Israeli story in it. Yuval is a true partner, and so are all the international and Jewish activists, who sleep in Masafer Yatta and defend us from settler and army attacks.”

A Palestinian activist and teacher whose home Israel has demolished multiple times, and who requested anonymity, said: “Honestly, I’m tired of all the criticism from people who don’t know who we are or how we survive here, yet lecture us on what to do and how to tell our story. I am incredibly proud of Basel and Yuval for making this film.

“Our struggle has been going on for [decades]. We are forgotten here in caves, and no one cares. Without this film, who would even know where Umm Al-Khair or Susiya are, or what their story is? I’m about to cook an Iftar meal for all the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim activists who live here with us. I invite anyone to spend just one night here in the freezing cold with them. Maybe the settlers will attack us before dawn, and we’ll need their help.”

Another activist from a different village who also requested anonymity, added: “I am ashamed of all these critics and attackers. Instead of supporting Yuval and Basel and contributing to our struggle, even just with words online, this is what they choose to do? Preach to us and tell us what the Palestinian struggle should be? This film has shed light on our reality in a way that no Palestinian politician in a suit, speaking multiple languages, has ever dared to. I don’t know a single person in Masafer Yatta who doesn’t support it.

“There is a difference between a Zionist and a Jew, between a settler and an Israeli leftist who opposes the occupation. I simply cannot put them all in the same category. And if people criticize Basel for making a film with an Israeli, I invite any Palestinian who wants to make a film — even just a TikTok video, not an Oscar-winning movie — to come here. We will help them. The most important thing is to keep raising our voice.”

The fear of a different future

In some ways, I understand the critics who convince themselves they are contributing to the struggle through social media. Online activism is necessary to strengthen our struggle, and to ensure that the Palestinian story is heard to millions across the globe. But alongside this, we also need people like Yuval, Rachel, and the dozens of activists on the ground who stand week in, week out with the locals in their villages and put their own lives at risk. As one resident I spoke with put it: “You don’t want to come? Fine. But don’t attack those who are here with us. Talking is the easiest and cheapest thing to do. Those who can’t reach the highest grapes will say they are sour.”

I can also appreciate how despair has taken hold of many Palestinians around the world, amid the ongoing trauma of the new Nakba that Israel has wrought upon Gaza, and that it’s hard to see any light at the end of the tunnel. In this darkness, a film painstakingly made by Israeli and Palestinian partners in struggle, standing side-by-side on one stage and insisting on dreaming of a different future, can seem frightening. Whereas sinking into despair offers a kind of mental relief from the burdens of our current reality, aspiring for a peaceful future has become an act of bravery that carries within it a call to action. And not everyone can or dares to act: to go to Masafer Yatta and stand arm-in-arm with the residents against their eradication.

The image of genuine Palestinian-Israeli partnership against occupation and apartheid is extremely rare nowadays. It’s something that is supposed to be hidden or suppressed. After all, the driving force behind Israel’s assault on Gaza and the dominant current in Israeli society is the idea that “it’s us or them” — and as we’ve seen in the backlash to the film, this sentiment is growing among Palestinians too.

And yet, here is a group of young Israelis and Palestinians proving to the world that such a partnership indeed exists. At the same time, they are proving to Palestinians that there are Israelis and Jews who don’t raise guns against them but instead stand in front of the guns, alongside them, protecting them with their own bodies.

Right now, we crave black and white, good and evil. The image of the four directors standing on the stage together doesn’t sit well, because it forces us to imagine possibilities for a future with Israelis, free from occupation, genocidal violence, and Jewish supremacy. That’s why some people feel the need to strip this image of legitimacy, undermining the foundation of this partnership using the most accessible tools at their disposal: moral purity tests, BDS kosher certifications, casting doubt on individuals’ intentions, questioning the intelligence of those involved, and looking everywhere for “Zionist funding” that supposedly supported the film — even though, in this case, that simply doesn’t exist.

It is clearer than ever that this bloody struggle of domination and resistance that we were born into has damaged the ability of all of us — Palestinians and Jews, in Israel and abroad — to empathize, feel compassion, and identify with one another, hindering our capacity to see allies for what they are. In this collective state of impairment, many of us can’t even celebrate a Palestinian documentary winning the genre’s highest award.

So let me add my voice to those offering many congratulations to Basel, Yuval, Hamdan, and Rachel on what is an exceptional honor and a tremendous achievement — for them, for activist cinema, for Masafer Yatta, and for the Palestinian cause.

A version of this article first appeared in Hebrew on Local Call. Read it here.