Iraq Officials Mull Rotation Among Sects of Top Positionshttps://english.aawsat.com/home/article/3119396/iraq-officials-mull-rotation-among-sects-top-positions
Iraq Officials Mull Rotation Among Sects of Top Positions
A man votes in the 2018 parliamentary elections in Baghdad. (AFP)
The withdrawal from upcoming elections by influential Shiite cleric Moqtada al-Sadr, the leader of the largest parliamentary bloc, continues to weigh heavily throughout Iraq, especially among other Shiite forces.
The capital Baghdad is divided between the Sunni Karkh district and the Shiite al-Rusafa. This divide was the most intense during the past eight years, first with the civil war when Shiites were killed in Sunni neighborhoods and Sunnis in Shiite neighborhoods.
The divisions were further widened during four rounds of elections that were held since 2005. These elections have produced a form of governance that has since proven to be a failure as Iraq plunges deeper in mismanagement at the hands of corrupt officials.
Moreover, the post-Saddam period that began in 2003 resulted in a sectarian political understanding that stipulates that the top positions of president, prime minister and parliament speaker should be divided according to sectarian lines.
As it stands, the prime minister is always a Shiite, the president a Kurd and parliament speaker a Sunni. However, parliament Speaker Mohammed al-Halbousi stirred debate recently by declaring: “Iraq is Arab and so the position of president should go to the Sunni Arabs.” He made it a point to say Arab because the Kurds too adhere to Sunni Islam.
His statement did not sit well with the Kurds, who boast their own influential blocs and are also divided among themselves over which Kurdish party should hold the position of president.
According to an understanding between the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP), headed by Masoud Barzani, and the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK), the president of the Kurdish Region should hail from Barzani’s party, while the Iraqi president must be a member of the PUK.
Since 2003, Kurdish figures – Jalal Talbani, Fuad Masoum and Barham Salih – have served as president.
Disputes have even emerged from the PUK itself over the nomination of the next president.
On the Shiite scene, political forces have grown paranoid of a conspiracy being plotted to thwart the appointment of a Shiite to the position of premier. The constitution does not explicitly state that the prime minister should be a Shiite, Sunni or Kurd.
The signs of a Kurdish-Sadrist alliance may create further political confusion in the country. The alliance, should it come to light, would be the first since 2003.
Shortly before Sadr withdrew from the elections, he had paid a visit to Erbil to meet with KDP officials and Barzani. Observers at the time speculated that they would soon announce an alliance between the largest Shiite and Kurdish forces that would create a major shift in the political scene.
Sadr’s surprise withdrawal, however, has upended the scene and forced the KDP to rethink its future alliances.
Had the two sides forged an alliance, the division of the “sovereign positions” of president, prime minister and speaker, would have changed. The position of premier would be held by Sadr, Barzani would control the presidency instead of the PUK, and Sunni Arabs would retain the position of speaker.
The Sunni and Kurdish parties now have to wait with bated breath for Sadr to take a final decision on whether he will run in the elections or not, with all forces setting their sights on the position of prime minister.
‘It’s Family’: Lebanese Villagers Dread Looming UN Peacekeeper Pullouthttps://english.aawsat.com/features/5330723-%E2%80%98it%E2%80%99s-family%E2%80%99-lebanese-villagers-dread-looming-un-peacekeeper-pullout
A worker arranges souvenirs made for personnel of the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL) at a factory showroom in Lebanon's southern border village of Ibl al-Saqi on October 13, 2026. (AFP)
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‘It’s Family’: Lebanese Villagers Dread Looming UN Peacekeeper Pullout
A worker arranges souvenirs made for personnel of the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL) at a factory showroom in Lebanon's southern border village of Ibl al-Saqi on October 13, 2026. (AFP)
From his shop in south Lebanon near the Israeli border, Mark Diab says life in his village will be turned upside down when a decades-long United Nations peacekeeping force pulls out next year.
"UNIFIL isn't just business, to us it's family," said Diab, 59, whose sister is among residents of Ibl al-Saqi who have married peacekeepers from the UN Interim Force in Lebanon over the years. She now lives in Spain.
"We're basically open because of the UN. We started when I was young," Diab said from his shop, just down the road from a UNIFIL base, selling clothes.
The force's withdrawal will hurt the local economy and "will impact our relationships... and we'll lose security and stability," he said, as the sound of an explosion rang out in the distance.
"I'm very sad they're leaving... We've spent a lifetime with them."
UNIFIL has served as a buffer since Israel first invaded Lebanon in 1978.
It has become part of the fabric of south Lebanese villages like Ibl al-Saqi after decades spent monitoring border hostilities and supporting local communities, including with humanitarian assistance.
But after pressure from Washington, the UN Security Council last year voted to end the force's mandate on December 31, 2026.
In a narrow garden in Ibl al-Saqi called Norway Square, tattered Norwegian and Lebanese flags flew near plaques paying tribute to peacekeepers from the Scandinavian country whose arrival decades ago forged ties that run deep.
A street sign points to a town in Norway about 5,200 kilometers (more than 3,200 miles) away.
Nearby, an Indian flag flew at Mahatma Gandhi Park close to a statue, posters and plaques set up by Indian peacekeepers.
An armored vehicle of the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL) moves along a road in Lebanon's southern border village of Ibl al-Saqi on October 13, 2026. (AFP)
- 'Positive mark' -
Ibl al-Saqi is located just outside an Israeli-declared "security zone" which runs around 10 kilometers deep in Lebanese territory along the border. It was established after the latest war between Israel and the Iran-backed Hezbollah group erupted this year.
Israeli troops operate nearby, and locals advised AFP journalists to avoid southern parts of the otherwise quiet, peaceful village, nestled among hills covered in olive groves.
From his municipal office near framed UNIFIL pictures and paraphernalia, mayor George Rahhal said the peacekeepers had brought stability and reassurance to villagers over years of conflict and uncertainty.
"They've left a positive mark on everybody's hearts, firstly through security, then the economy, healthcare, supporting schools, the sick," said Rahhal, who like others in the village also has Norwegian citizenship and speaks the language.
"At some point the UN has to leave... but not in these circumstances."
Lebanon has called for UNIFIL's mandate to be extended, fearing a security vacuum at a time when hostilities prevent the Lebanese army, whose resources are limited, from deploying across the country's south.
Rahhal said many Ibl al-Saqi residents were UNIFIL employees or contractors.
Almost "the entire community will be impacted" economically by the withdrawal, directly or indirectly, he said.
"We can live after the international force (leaves), but how and where and who will be responsible for us?"
UNIFIL now counts about 7,500 personnel from nearly 50 countries.
Spokesperson Kandice Ardiel told AFP it also "has around 400 national staff" and works with numerous local companies providing contracted services.
A shepherd tends to a flock near the base of the Spanish contingent of the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL), in Lebanon's southern border village of Ibl al-Saqi on October 13, 2026. (AFP)
- 'Stayed in our village' -
Peacekeepers are stationed in many Israeli-occupied areas now off-limits to most Lebanese after the most recent war. Many border villages have seen heavy destruction.
More than 4,300 people have been killed in Lebanon since March, including seven peacekeepers caught in the crossfire.
Israel still carries out strikes and demolitions despite a lull in hostilities since late June.
Andrea Tenenti, who served as UNIFIL spokesperson for almost 20 years, told AFP that the force's presence "was not simply about maintaining peace and security".
UNIFIL "has long been the second largest employer and economic contributor in southern Lebanon, after the Lebanese state", he said.
"Its economic footprint, however, extended far beyond its direct workforce," he added, with associated activities "supporting a much wider network of businesses and livelihoods".
Its withdrawal "risks creating a significant vacuum... at a particularly critical time".
At a workshop in Ibl al-Saqi, laborers supervised clattering embroidery machines sewing customized items including banners and tags for peacekeepers stationed nearby.
Shelves were packed with colorful souvenirs and keepsakes for UNIFIL personnel -- the business's main market after Lebanon's economy collapsed in 2019.
Co-owner Khaled Nahra, 48, said the workshop had been running for some 25 years and had around a dozen employees, but would be forced to close when UNIFIL leaves.
"We've stayed in our village... this was the best thing about working with the UN," he said.
"There are people who've been working here for 15... 20 years. They're like me. They don't know what to do."
Policing of France's School Protests Clouds Macron's Final Months and Sparks Uproarhttps://english.aawsat.com/features/5330245-policing-frances-school-protests-clouds-macrons-final-months-and-sparks-uproar
France's President Emmanuel Macron delivers a speech during the "Bpifrance Inno Generation (BIG)" event, in Paris, France, October 8, 2026. Julien De Rosa/Pool via REUTERS
Policing of France's School Protests Clouds Macron's Final Months and Sparks Uproar
France's President Emmanuel Macron delivers a speech during the "Bpifrance Inno Generation (BIG)" event, in Paris, France, October 8, 2026. Julien De Rosa/Pool via REUTERS
On one side, legions of determined teenagers protesting for their future by blockading schools and taking part in marches that have sometimes spiraled into violence.
On the other, one of the largest internal security forces in Europe, deployed by the government of an unpopular and outgoing president, The Associated Press said.
The result, playing out almost daily outside high schools and on the streets of France, is a nationwide storm of unrest. The mayhem of recent weeks — with mass arrests and hundreds of injured — has sparked an uproar in a country steeped in a centuries-old culture of protest. Even some police have turned on the government's handling of the demonstrations.
Discontent shrouds Macron's final months
For President Emmanuel Macron, who leaves office in May, it’s hardly the dream ending to his decade in power. He has faced a succession of protest movements that sapped his popularity and fueled broad criticism of how his ministers use police against demonstrators.
With the high schoolers, the outcry has grown particularly loud. That's partly because the vast majority of the 8,000 people arrested in recent weeks are under 18 and because police riot-control weapons are blamed for life-changing injuries suffered by some young teens.
The protesters' push for better-resourced schools, particularly in poorer Paris suburbs and other cities and towns, also has a sympathetic audience as France hurts from record poverty and record public debt.
But police complain that they're facing violent rioters who are latching onto the protests and using the crowds as cover to attack officers, pelting them with rocks, fireworks and other projectiles and wreaking havoc with fires, vandalism and other destruction. By the government's count, more than 900 officers and more than 150 teachers and other school staffers have been injured. More demonstrations, by a variety of groups with broader complaints beyond schools, are planned Saturday.
French history partly explains why protests are veering into confrontations between riot police and some demonstrators who come ready to fight in masks and black clothes, says Walid Hrar, a police officer and union representative in the northern suburbs of Paris.
“This is the country of the French Revolution. Everyone boasts about it, in fact. Some political parties don’t hesitate to say that we need to disobey the law. That’s what Robespierre and other revolutionaries taught us in 1789,” he said.
“France always tends to react rather than anticipate,” he added. "In other words, we’re always going to extremes.”
Attention focusing on police weaponry
The police have drawn sharp scrutiny for their efforts to control crowds using a variety of so-called non-lethal weaponry, particularly grenades and other projectiles, but also tear gas, water cannons and riot shields equipped with powerful strobe lights.
"We’re sending poorly equipped, untrained public security police officers to violent demonstrations who are likely to become agitated very quickly out of anger and fear,” said Jean-Marie Godard, an author who specializes in French policing.
Hrar said some of his police colleagues “aren’t specialized in crowd control and aren’t equipped for it. We send them in because we need the manpower, so we have officers wearing uniforms that aren’t flame-resistant. And if you’re hit by a firework mortar and your uniform isn’t flame-resistant, you can catch fire. We also have officers with worn-out helmets. We have shields that aren’t suitable."
He said officers who haven't been given permission to use riot-control projectiles and grenades sometimes struggle to keep attackers at a safe distance.
“So unfortunately we make do,” he said. “You’ll inevitably end up in direct physical confrontation. When that happens, there are injuries on both sides.”
His Alliance police union announced this week that it is filing a legal complaint against the state, accusing it of endangering lives. It alleged that officers are being issued with vague and contradictory orders, leaving them “isolated, betrayed, abandoned, exposed to violence."
Probes of alleged misconduct grow French Interior Minister Laurent Nunez said this week that security forces have used crowd-control weapons at least 18,000 times during the protests — mostly smoke and tear gas but also projectiles and grenades.
They include a deafening launcher-fired grenade that Nunez said was used “about 40 times” before he suspended its deployment against high schoolers, after a 15-year-old lost a hand.
“All this equipment, all these forces, all these intermediate weapons, are used whenever necessary, with proportionality, to mark an escalation of the response, to keep people at a distance or sometimes to put them out of action,” he said.
The minister said rules governing the use of riot-control projectiles are “very clear, very strict.”
“We avoid everything above the neck,” he said.
Still, an officer suspected of firing a round that partially blinded a 16-year-old was this week charged with aggravated violence.
That case is among a growing number of investigations — totaling 36 as of Tuesday — into alleged police misconduct.
Four involve “mutilating injuries,” another six involve “significant injuries” and others are for “blows, insults and suspected sexual assaults” and include the case of an officer accused of attempting to drown a protester, Nunez said.
Expert says different groups get different policing France has more than 250,000 police and gendarmes.
Sebastian Roché, a policing specialist at France's National Center for Scientific Research, said their use can depend on the political needs of the government, which commands them. Officers have been less forgiving with the teenagers than they previously were with farmers, a powerful lobby in France, who doused government buildings with manure, blocked roads and set fires.
“It’s the political definition of the movement that defines the police response,” Roché said.
Public perceptions of the police also change and are influenced by what people see on social media, said Hrar, who noted that officers were applauded for their bravery during terror attacks in 2015.
"When you bombard people every single day with images of police intervening with batons, shields and tear gas, you’re inevitably going to create a negative impression.”
War in the Heart of Hebron: 500 Settlers Share Daily Life with Thousands of Palestinianshttps://english.aawsat.com/features/5329945-war-heart-hebron-500-settlers-share-daily-life-thousands-palestinians
10 October 2026, Palestinian Territories, Hebron: Israeli soldiers stand guard during a tour by Israeli settlers in the Old City of Hebron. Photo: Mamoun Wazwaz/APA Images via ZUMA Press Wire/dpa
War in the Heart of Hebron: 500 Settlers Share Daily Life with Thousands of Palestinians
10 October 2026, Palestinian Territories, Hebron: Israeli soldiers stand guard during a tour by Israeli settlers in the Old City of Hebron. Photo: Mamoun Wazwaz/APA Images via ZUMA Press Wire/dpa
Before reaching the city of Hebron, about 35 kilometers south of Jerusalem in the West Bank, travelers on the fast bypass road known as Route 60 encounter numerous road signs directing people of different nationalities, religions and denominations to their destinations. Written in Hebrew, English and Arabic, the signs point to Palestinian and Israeli destinations, and sometimes places farther afield: Karmei Tzur, Halhul, Beit Ummar, Kiryat Gat, Al-Arroub refugee camp, Kiryat Arba, the Ibrahimi Mosque and others.
No Entry
Shortly before the city's main entrance, a large sign warns Israelis against entering Area A, which is designated off-limits and "dangerous" to them. Yet the warning ignores the fact that 500 settlers live within it, occupying the heart of the West Bank's largest city, its Old City, where they share streets, houses, shops, squares, balcony views and the Ibrahimi Mosque with Palestinian residents.
Every day, the settlers attempt to drive out their neighbors in a long and exhausting struggle that has become considerably more intense since October 7, 2023.
At the beginning of Shuhada Street, near the bustling Bab al-Zawiya district, known for its crowds and commercial activity, Israeli soldiers stand on alert. Their mission is to prevent Palestinians from entering the area, except for the few who still live in its old, dilapidated and surrounded houses and have refused to leave.
Even these residents face thorough searches every day as they enter and leave, treated as perpetual suspects.
Before and After October 7
Before October 7, we had entered the street after receiving permission from the soldiers. But just 100 meters farther along, a soldier stopped us and said we could go no farther because of our "Arab appearance," claiming he could not guarantee our safety.
Today, entry is prohibited from the very first meter.
Intersection in the city of Hebron (Asharq Al-Awsat)
We entered the Old City through other routes that remained open, only to find that many of its streets had been closed. We could not reach several areas, including Al-Sahla Street behind the Ibrahimi Mosque, which, like Shuhada Street, had been closed to all Palestinians except the few "troublesome" residents who still lived there.
Islam al-Fakhouri came out to meet us in streets that were not closed off, including the once-busy Laban Market, which stood deserted. Shops were shuttered, with no merchants, residents or shoppers in sight. The market is part of a network of interconnected streets in the Old City.
Al-Fakhouri told Asharq Al-Awsat that he prefers to leave his home only once a day before returning for the last time, to avoid the numerous humiliating and difficult procedures.
"They treat us as suspects all the time. Your name has to be on a special list, and you undergo a search when you leave and when you return. They check your identity documents before allowing you through," he explained.
Al-Fakhouri is among the few Palestinians who have remained in their homes on Al-Sahla Street, near the Ibrahimi Mosque, which lies at the center of the conflict for both Palestinians and Israelis.
He said he stayed because he could not accept the idea of abandoning his home and because he "does not want to leave it to them."
"If I leave the house, they will immediately take it over. That is exactly what they want. Everything happening here is designed to force us out of our homes. Why does the army make our lives so difficult? Why all these restrictions? Why do settlers attack us? Because they want the entire place," he said.
Al-Fakhouri described how he and other residents had repeatedly been subjected to attacks and assaults, but insisted that he would not give up.
"I'm not leaving, and I'm not giving up my home," he said.
His determination did not waver after October 7, even as the struggle to remain became more difficult and costly.
Since that date, settlers across the West Bank have intensified their hostile actions, carrying out deadly attacks across large areas, killing Palestinians, burning their homes, properties and places of worship, destroying crops, and seizing land, houses, hilltops and even livestock.
"After October 7, every settler became a government unto himself," Al-Fakhouri said.
"We used to move around more freely, and there was less friction. But after October 7, everything changed. They closed the gates and increased the checkpoints. Every movement here is now restricted. On top of that, we face constant attacks and assaults without any accountability or oversight. They attack homes and assault us in the streets. Every day there is a problem. Every single day."
Al-Fakhouri's account helps explain why large parts of the Old City have lost their residents and why so many shops remain closed.
A Battle That Began in 1978
The closures did not begin after October 7. They date back much further. The settlers' struggle is decades old, although it has intensified significantly since that date.
According to the Palestinian National Information Center, the first settlement outposts inside the Old City were established in 1978, when a group of settlers occupied the Al-Dabouya building in the city center. They later renamed it Beit Hadassah.
Following the well-known 1980 Al-Dabouya attack, Israeli authorities demolished dozens of homes to expand the strategically located settlement outpost.
In 1983, another outpost, known as Beit Romano, was established near the Al-Dabouya building after settlers took control of the Osama ibn Munqidh School, claiming it was Jewish property.
In 1984, a new settlement outpost, Avraham Avinu, was established on an archaeological site in Tel Rumeida. Israeli authorities also closed the Old City's central vegetable market, which was later handed over to settlers to establish another outpost. Other outposts included Beit Chason and Beit Schneerson.
The Palestinian National Information Center said Israel was seeking to take control of the area and expand the settlement outposts. To achieve this, it said, Israeli authorities had adopted discriminatory policies against Arab residents, installing dozens of barriers and checkpoints and completely closing certain streets and markets in an effort to pressure residents into leaving.
The center estimated that approximately 1,829 commercial establishments had closed, including 520 shut by specific military orders. The remainder were closed by their owners because roads had been blocked and barriers and checkpoints installed throughout the narrow streets.
Residents of the Old City whom we met briefly said the struggle with settlers was longstanding but had intensified during two pivotal periods: after the Second Intifada in 2000 and following October 7, 2023.
To date, most of the Old City's 40,000 residents have left.
The Ibrahimi Mosque, Just a Stone's Throw Away
The Ibrahimi Mosque, which Palestinians describe as the oldest sacred site in the world, was just a stone's throw away.
As we approached, signs of life began to emerge. A handful of shops were open, with artisans and craftspeople displaying jewelry, pottery, wood carvings, maps of Palestine, embroidered items, decorated mugs, incense and Turkish delight produced in an exceptionally old factory, one that predates the occupation itself.
One shop window featured a portrait of the late Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish painted on a piece of mother-of-pearl, accompanied by his famous words: "On this earth, there is what makes life worth living."
Beside it was a portrait of the Lebanese singer Fairuz, with the lyrics "I belong to my beloved, and my beloved belongs to me." Other pieces of pottery seemed almost disconnected from the present moment.
But across from the Ibrahimi Mosque, an armed Israeli soldier stood alert behind security gates, monitoring those who wished to pray and allowing them through only when a green light appeared.
We passed through turnstiles, which Palestinians sarcastically call "the wringers," and then electronic security gates. A soldier checked each person's identification before we proceeded to security booths under surveillance cameras and the watch of armed guards. There, a female soldier inspected our identification documents once again before permitting us to enter the mosque.
The few steps felt more like crossing an international border or entering a defense ministry headquarters than approaching a mosque for prayer.
The site, deeply sacred to Muslims, retained its solemn atmosphere, but only a few worshippers were present.
Some visitors were entering for the first time in their lives. They examined the tombs of the prophets with astonishment, discovering ancient corners of the building under the watchful eyes of Israeli cameras.
Cameras were everywhere. Wherever you turned, another camera recorded every movement and every word.
Palestinians wait at an Israeli checkpoint as they head for prayer at the Ibrahimi Mosque, also known as the Cave of Patriarchs, in the old city of Hebron, in the Israeli-occupied West Bank, June 17, 2026. REUTERS/Ammar Awad
Mosque Director: They Instill Fear in Us
Sheikh Mutaz Abu Sneineh, director of the Ibrahimi Mosque, was reluctant to give us a tour, even without cameras or filming, for fear that Israeli forces might use it as a pretext to enter the site.
We had, of course, arrived without cameras or microphones, since bringing such equipment would have meant hours of questioning and waiting for approvals that might never come.
Israeli authorities had expanded the mosque's surveillance system to cover every corner with audio and video recording. They had also compelled the mosque administration to install designated pathways over the carpets so soldiers could enter the mosque quickly at any time.
"You can see for yourself. Anyone entering here feels as though they are entering a military barracks, under surveillance," Abu Sneineh told Asharq Al-Awsat.
"Checkpoints, gates, thorough inspections, searches and identity checks. These are daily procedures imposed on everyone entering the Ibrahimi Mosque, and people are sometimes subjected to humiliation and degrading treatment.
"That includes the mosque's custodians, employees and administration. Everyone who enters this place is under intense audio and video surveillance."
For the mosque director, these measures are part of a broader policy intended to impose a new reality, empty the mosque of worshippers and turn it into a place for Jews.
The mosque was indeed largely empty, and Abu Sneineh confirmed that conditions had changed dramatically since October 7, to the point that Palestinians under the age of 25 were now completely prohibited from entering.
"They instill fear and terror in those who come here," he said.
Worshippers inside the Ibrahimi Mosque (Asharq Al-Awsat)
Division by Time and Space
Another section of the mosque remained entirely off-limits to us, much like parts of the Old City.
Following the 1994 Ibrahimi Mosque massacre, in which Baruch Goldstein, an Israeli army doctor and settler, killed 29 Muslim worshippers, Israel took control of 63 percent of the mosque and designated it exclusively for Jewish use.
Goldstein was an activist in the extremist Kach movement, founded by Meir Kahane.
"Sixty-three percent has been off-limits to Muslims ever since," Abu Sneineh said.
Behind a separating door, Jewish religious prayers and noisy celebrations take place, accompanied by the blowing of the shofar.
Muslims are allowed into that section on only ten days each year, including Fridays during Ramadan, Laylat al-Qadr, Eid al-Fitr, Eid al-Adha, the Prophet Muhammad's birthday, the anniversary of the Hijra and the commemoration of Isra and Mi'raj.
Conversely, Muslims are entirely barred from the mosque for ten days associated with Jewish religious holidays.
This arrangement is known as the division of the site by time and space, a model Palestinians fear could also be imposed at Al-Aqsa
Mosque in Jerusalem.
The muezzin rose to lead the call to prayer before the small congregation, having previously been prevented from reaching his room, which is located in the section controlled by Israeli authorities.
He had also been prohibited from broadcasting the call to prayer through loudspeakers outside the mosque.
Previously, the muezzin had to wait for Israeli soldiers to arrive and escort him to his room. After issuing the call to prayer, he would leave under their escort, completing a short journey fraught with danger.
Even this arrangement does not apply to every prayer. He is barred from reaching the room during specified periods on Saturdays and Fridays and at certain hours of the night.
Shared Tombs and a Battle Over Historical Narratives
The tombs of Abraham, Jacob, Isaac and Joseph were among the most visited places and popular spots for commemorative photographs.
Jews regard these tombs as evidence that the site belongs to them as well. The conflict here is therefore not only about occupation, but also about competing historical and religious narratives and the identities they represent.
"They are trying to erase our narrative and identity," Abu Sneineh said.
"They say this place is theirs. We say it is an exclusively Islamic site. They believe they are descended from Abraham and claim that, as descendants of his son, they have a right to this place. But we have a greater claim to the prophets. Abraham was not Jewish."
The mosque director's account reflects the Palestinian and Muslim narrative, but it is not accepted in Israel.
Israelis also revere the Ibrahimi Mosque, which they call the Cave of the Patriarchs, or the Cave of Machpelah, because it contains the burial place of the Prophet Abraham and his wife Sarah in a cave beneath the present building.
Smotrich Declares Mosque 'Sovereign Property'
Shortly after our visit, far-right Israeli Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich visited the Ibrahimi Mosque and declared it the "first sovereign property of the Jewish people."
At the site, where he had come to inaugurate the roofed areas previously mentioned by Abu Sneineh, Smotrich asserted that the mosque would forever remain a symbol of Israeli sovereignty in the West Bank.
Israel's Channel 14 reported that Smotrich, who presided over an event marking the completion of extensive roofing and restoration work at the site, was taking a historic step following his earlier decision to terminate the Hebron agreements and withdraw the Palestinian municipality's relevant powers in Hebron's Old City.
Smotrich had announced last June the cancellation of the Hebron Agreement governing the city, which he calls the land of the patriarchs.
Speaking at a ceremony inaugurating the new Doron settlement in the Hebron Hills at the time, he said:
"We have canceled the Hebron agreements. For many years, one of the most absurd provisions of Oslo remained in effect, under which authority over Jewish settlements in Hebron and the holy sites was granted to the Hebron municipality."
The decision announced by Smotrich, following its approval by the Higher Planning Council of the Israeli military's Civil Administration, stripped the Hebron municipality of its planning and construction powers in Area H2, which includes the Old City.
Hebron Turns the Page on Oslo
Hebron is the only Palestinian city in the West Bank to have been subject to a special agreement in 1997 that divided it into two areas, H1 and H2.
Known as the Protocol Concerning the Redeployment in Hebron, the arrangement followed the 1995 Oslo II Accord and the Israeli-Palestinian peace process launched under the Oslo Accords in 1993.
Under the Hebron agreement, Israel withdrew its forces from Area H1, which accounts for approximately 80 percent of the city, and the Palestinian Authority assumed responsibility for security and civilian affairs there.
In return, Israel retained security control over Area H2, comprising the remaining 20 percent of the city, including the Old City, the Ibrahimi Mosque and the Jewish settlement in Hebron, while civilian powers were transferred to the Palestinian Authority.
"This is much more than a planning measure. It is a historic correction," Smotrich said.
"We are continuing the settlement revolution, strengthening governance and deepening Israeli sovereignty in Judea and Samaria," he added, using the Israeli term for the West Bank.
According to Smotrich, the measure applies to all religious and historical sites in Hebron.
In effect, the move marked the end of the Oslo era in the Old City, at the heart of Hebron.
Palestinians rejected the decision. The Palestinian presidency warned of its dangers, saying it undermined Hebron's political and legal status and the bilateral agreements signed concerning the city.
Hebron's municipality also rejected the move and said it would not accept it.
On the ground, however, a different reality has emerged. Israel now exercises greater control over virtually everything in central Hebron, including the Ibrahimi Mosque.
Just one day after Smotrich announced the "cancellation of the Hebron agreements," a major construction project for a Jewish religious school near the mosque was approved.
Israel's Yedioth Ahronoth newspaper reported that the project had been approved without requiring authorization from the Palestinian municipality, for the first time in decades.
Speaking at the Ibrahimi Mosque during a celebration marking the roofing work, Smotrich said:
"The Cave of Machpelah, the Ibrahimi Mosque, is the first sovereign property of the people of Israel. The place purchased by our forefather Abraham has become a symbol of our sovereignty over this land."
Visits to Preserve Historical Memory
But not everything can be imposed by force.
Outside the main prayer hall, a group of schoolchildren was visiting the mosque as their teachers explained its history, religious significance and the massacre that took place there.
Teacher Sharifa Dweik told Asharq Al-Awsat that she had decided to take the risk of bringing the children to the mosque after realizing they knew almost nothing about it.
The children were excited, as though embarking on an adventure. They eagerly described how they had passed the soldiers without being searched and said they would return.
Dweik said it was essential for the children to visit a place that, in her view, Jews wanted every Palestinian to forget.
Hajj Abdulaziz Abu Haltam said he had traveled from the distant town of Tarqumiya to visit the mosque and the Old City.
"I don't come often because of the risks and the long hours of waiting. But I decided to take the chance, and I really did spend a long and exhausting time waiting before reaching the mosque," he told Asharq Al-Awsat.
Jewish visitors face none of these difficulties. Instead, they arrive accompanied by extensive security protection in what is presented as an effort to emphasize the site's Jewish identity.
Approximately 1,500 Israeli soldiers guard the 500 settlers living in central Hebron.
Israeli flags also surround the walls of the Ibrahimi Mosque, another attempt to reinforce the Israeli narrative through visual symbols wherever possible.
Many of these flags can also be seen throughout large parts of the city's Arab neighborhoods.
Israeli soldiers stand guard during a weekly settlers' tour in Hebron, in the Israeli-occupied West Bank, May 16, 2026. REUTERS/Mussa Qawasma
Neighbors and Enemies
From a vantage point overlooking an area not far from the mosque, the extent to which the two communities occupy the same spaces in large parts of the Old City was striking.
Jewish settlers live above shops that once belonged to Arabs, while only walls separate their homes from those of Palestinians.
Before October 7, when Palestinians were still able to open their shops, shopkeepers had been forced to install wire mesh above the street to protect themselves from objects thrown down by settlers living overhead.
Today, all those shops have closed.
While settlers in Beit Avraham, Beit Hadassah, Beit Romano and Tel Rumeida enjoy extensive protection, many Palestinians have been killed in the area over previous years on allegations that they had stabbed, or intended to stab, soldiers and settlers.
Despite this, Mahmoud Mahamra has refused to leave his home, behind which a tightly secured wooden gate has been installed to separate it from Shuhada Street.
Israeli authorities wanted to prevent any possible contact.
That gate was part of a wider network of barriers closing off Old City streets, alongside checkpoints and security cameras.
Mahamra, who describes himself as the closest Palestinian neighbor to the settlers in his area, said he lives in constant anxiety, which has turned into a nightmare since October 7.
"They always used to harass us, but after October 7, life became unbearable," he told Asharq Al-Awsat.
He recalled a period of relative prosperity before the Second Intifada, although it did not last long.
"We used to live alongside one another. There was life here. But not anymore," he said.
Standing on the roof of his home, Mahamra looked out over neighborhoods that had once been entirely Arab and were now entirely Jewish.
Settlers take over homes and raise Israeli flags above them.
Yet Mahamra has no intention of leaving.
"I'm not leaving this place," he said.
"We are not leaving" has become a slogan embraced by Palestinians across the West Bank. But not everyone is able to live up to it, as they face what the article describes as the most extreme Israeli government and the most violent settlers in the history of the conflict.
The Israeli government is now working to implement what is known as the Decisive Plan, which is based on the premise that the territory between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea has room for only one legitimate national claim: the Zionist claim to full Jewish sovereignty.
Israeli human rights organization B'Tselem has accused Israel of implementing a series of simultaneous policies in the West Bank as part of a broader project aimed at erasing Palestinians as a people.
All of this is unfolding today in Hebron's Old City. For Israel, Hebron may represent a rehearsal for what could happen across the rest of the West Bank.
We left the mosque and the Old City, passing one of the oldest shops, where a large map of Palestine was displayed.
Inscribed on it were Mahmoud Darwish's familiar words:
"She used to be called Palestine. And she is still called Palestine."
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