– Syed Azharuddin
The reverberations from last meeting of the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) in Doha are still rolling across the globe, shaking long-standing assumptions about Palestine, Israel, and the limits of Western consensus. For decades, Israel relied on two shields: the steadfast diplomatic protection of the United States and the quiet compliance of Europe and much of the Global South. In the weeks following the Doha summit, both shields have begun to crack.
What once sounded like rhetoric – “Israel versus the world” – has become something far more tangible. Governments are acting. Parliaments are defying protocol. Artists and athletes are taking sides. Even traditional allies of Israel now speak in tones of censure. The post-Doha moment may not yet mark the end of Israel’s occupation or the suffering of Palestinians, but it signals a profound shift in the moral and diplomatic balance of power.
The first shock came on 21 September 2025, when the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, and Portugal announced the formal recognition of the State of Palestine. It was not merely a symbolic gesture. These are G7 and NATO nations – core members of the Western alliance – acting in open defiance of Washington’s long-standing opposition to unilateral recognition outside of a negotiated “peace process.” Their statements drew a bright line: Palestinian statehood is no longer a bargaining chip; it is a matter of justice and international law.
British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, speaking in Parliament, called the decision a “moral necessity,” explicitly referencing the 1967 borders and condemning “the humanitarian catastrophe that continues in Gaza.” Canada and Australia issued similar language, emphasising human rights and the need to end what they described as an “unsustainable status quo.” Lisbon followed quickly, framing recognition as a natural extension of its anti-colonial foreign policy.
Israel’s response was swift and furious. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu accused these governments of “rewarding terrorism,” while pro-Israel lobbying groups warned of diplomatic reprisals. But the dam had broken. Within days, reports emerged that eleven additional countries – from Scandinavia to Latin America – intend to announce recognition during the 80th session of the United Nations General Assembly this week. What once seemed improbable is now almost routine.
Politics is not only treaties and votes; it is also theatre, and Europe has provided a stage for striking acts of dissent. In the Netherlands, Member of Parliament Esther Ouwehand walked into a session wearing a blouse in the colours of the Palestinian flag. Ordered to change, she re-entered moments later clad in a watermelon-patterned top, a sly nod to the fruit that has become a quiet emblem of Palestinian resistance.
Spain offered its own tableaux of defiance. In the northern Asturias region, officials raised the Palestinian flag alongside regional emblems and withdrew from sporting events featuring Israeli participants. Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez went further, urging international sporting federations to ban Israeli teams, drawing an explicit parallel to the exclusion of Russian athletes after the invasion of Ukraine. Madrid then cancelled a multimillion-euro arms contract for Israeli rocket-launcher systems – a tangible sanction rarely seen in Europe’s cautious diplomacy.
These gestures may appear small, but symbolism matters. Flags and clothing choices travel faster across social media than any policy paper. They remind the public – and hesitant governments – that solidarity need not wait for formal resolutions.
Far from Europe, India – historically an early supporter of Palestinian statehood – experienced its own moment of reckoning. Priyanka Gandhi Vadra, a senior leader of the Congress Party, broke the country’s uneasy silence. She reminded the nation that India officially recognised Palestine in November 1988, calling the Modi government’s current neutrality “shameful” and accusing Israel of outright genocide. “Moral courage is not optional when children are dying,” she declared, sharply criticising Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s alignment with Washington and Tel Aviv.
Her words found immediate echo in Indian civil society. On 19 September, Chennai hosted one of the most striking cultural interventions yet. Veteran actor Prakash Raj held both the United States and Prime Minister Modi “equally responsible” for enabling Israeli atrocities, warning that silence is complicity. National Award-winning filmmaker Vetri Maaran described Gaza as a “planned genocide,” detailing the destruction of schools, hospitals, olive groves, and other lifelines of Palestinian society. Legendary actor Sathyaraj, revered across Tamil cinema, called the carnage “unbearable” and “a crime against humanity,” urging ordinary citizens not to remain passive spectators.
Joining them were lyricist Kabilan Vairamuthu, activist-poet Meena Kandasamy, and a host of independent theatre artists, all linking Gaza’s plight to broader struggles against imperialism and caste oppression. Their words carried the same urgency that animated earlier online campaigns such as “All Eyes on Rafah,” when Bollywood figures – from Alia Bhatt and Priyanka Chopra-Jonas to Richa Chadha and Varun Dhawan – amplified Gaza’s anguish to millions of followers.
Beyond India, the Global South has been equally emphatic. South Africa, already pursuing a genocide case against Israel at the International Court of Justice, vowed to continue its support despite renewed threats from Washington and a resurgent Donald Trump. Across Africa and Asia, governments once wary of western displeasure are signalling readiness to recognise Palestine formally. Reuters and Al-Jazeera report that several Southeast Asian and Latin American states will join the eleven expected recognitions at the UN this week.
Even within the Arab world, new language is emerging. Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi – long cautious about antagonising Israel – referred to it as an “enemy” for the first time since Anwar Sadat’s 1977 visit to Jerusalem, a diplomatic earthquake in itself. In Riyadh, Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman announced he would personally address a United Nations conference on Palestinian statehood, underscoring the shifting sands of Middle Eastern diplomacy.
Meanwhile, Jewish voices of conscience – from academics in the United States to activists in Tel Aviv – have condemned the Gaza war as a betrayal of Judaism’s ethical core. This internal dissent, once easily dismissed, now forms part of a broader moral coalition that spans continents and faiths.
What unites these seemingly disparate developments is the recognition that culture and public opinion can move faster than governments. Global protests, student encampments, and solidarity concerts continue to multiply. European lawmakers wear Palestinian colours; South Asian film stars turn protests into national spectacles; athletes and musicians refuse to perform in Israeli venues. Each action chips away at the normalisation of occupation and forces politicians to account for a public that no longer sees Palestine as a distant quarrel.
Israel’s own actions have accelerated the shift. The attack on Doha – widely condemned as a reckless escalation – was intended to intimidate and isolate. Instead, it has galvanised opposition. Nations that once hedged their language now speak with unprecedented clarity. Allies who quietly enabled Israeli policy now face domestic pressure to distance themselves.
As the 80th session of the United Nations General Assembly convenes in New York, momentum is unmistakable. Eleven additional countries are preparing to recognise the State of Palestine, creating the largest single wave of recognition since the early 1990s. Even Washington, still vetoing Security Council resolutions, cannot fully contain the tide.
If this surge continues – if moral outrage hardens into lasting diplomatic policy – the vision of a “Greater Israel” will not merely be challenged; it will dissolve under the combined weight of international law, public conscience, and the unyielding spirit of Gaza. For Palestinians, recognition alone will not end occupation or rebuild shattered homes, but it shifts the centre of gravity. It forces negotiations on new terms and denies Israel the diplomatic impunity it has long enjoyed.
For the world, the stakes are broader still. This is about whether international norms mean anything in the face of raw power, and whether global civil society can still bend the arc of history toward justice. From European parliaments draped in Palestinian colours to South Asian streets alive with solidarity protests, the once-isolated voices for justice have fused into a global front.
The post-Doha tide shows no sign of ebbing. In capitals from Madrid to Johannesburg, in art studios in Chennai and student plazas in New York, the message is the same: the era of quiet complicity is ending. The dream of “Greater Israel” is receding into the realm of fantasy, while Gaza’s unyielding spirit – its survival in the face of bombardment – reshapes the moral and political map of the twenty-first century.
