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s the global map of recognition shifts, Palestine now stands acknowledged by 157 of the 193 UN member states, following a wave of diplomatic moves in 2025 that included the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, France, Belgium, Portugal, Luxembourg, and Malta. These recognitions, nearly eight decades after the 1948 Nakba, mark a critical moment in the long and uneven pursuit of Palestinian statehood.
From Gaza, where daily life remains under blockade and the air carries the tension of uncertainty, such announcements are followed with cautious observation rather than celebration. Many remember previous moments of symbolic gestures—Oslo, the UN observer status in 2012—each met with brief optimism, then folded back into occupation and control.
Yet, this year feels different in its scale and timing: public outrage in Western capitals has reached an intensity unseen in decades, as mass demonstrations fill streets from London to Rome, Sydney to Toronto, demanding political accountability and an end to complicity. For Palestinians, these shifts signal that the narrative once monopolized by power is being challenged.
Recognition alone will not change the checkpoints, empty shelves, or loss, but it disrupts the silence that has long defined international diplomacy—and from Gaza, that disruption, however delayed, is still seen as a necessary beginning.
But what does recognition mean for those outside Palestine who have long stood in solidarity with it? To move beyond the language of diplomacy, I reached out to voices abroad — people who marched, spoken, and acted in support of Palestine from afar.
Hannah, a 59-year-old activist from the UK, reflects on decades of demonstrations for Palestine in her country. “Demonstrations have been going on in the UK for decades. I’m ashamed to say that my understanding of the situation in your country was limited despite this,” she admits.
When asked what motivates her to continue participating, Hannah explains, “I lost faith in the power of demonstrations to impact government decisions after an enormous protest failed to prevent Tony Blair committing the UK to war in Iraq. But in the absence of anything else productive ordinary citizens can do, I join others in the streets. I find marches depressing because people seem to think marching is enough, and conversely, marching doesn’t seem to achieve much. Yet, hearing Palestinian people gain some small comfort from knowing people around the world are marching in their name encourages me to take part.”
She emphasizes her preference is for more targeted protests. “A narrower message, like ‘stop arming Israel,’ seems more relevant in the UK than ‘free Palestine,’ which is obviously desirable but perhaps not immediately achievable—certainly not without first withdrawing arms sales to the occupier,” Hannah adds.
Paul, a 53-year-old author and academic with Irish roots living in England, reflects on decades of demonstrations for Palestine in the UK. “I believe the current wave of demonstrations started very soon after Israel’s response to October 7, but support for Palestinian goals has been ongoing for decades,” he explains. Paul traces public support for Palestine back to the 1990s, during events such as opposition to the Iraq War, when many British and Irish people recognized the moral and political consequences of actions in the Muslim world.
His motivation to participate in demonstrations stems from a deep sense of social justice. “From the very beginning, I wasn’t afraid to express my views. Almost immediately after October 7, I was asked to write a news article in which I tried to present an impartial viewpoint,” Paul recalls. He emphasizes the importance of speaking out despite potential consequences, noting many in Britain fear losing their jobs or facing backlash. Yet he trusted the integrity of institutions enough to be outspoken and to call for peace.
Tess, a 36-year-old activist from the United States, notices, while there have been longstanding protests tied to broader liberation movements, the mobilizations following October 7 were particularly significant. She remembers attending a major protest in Washington, D.C. and highlights the ongoing efforts of her local BDS cooperative grocery store, which has been organizing since 2012, but found renewed energy after October 7.
Her motivation to participate is rooted in a lifelong awareness of government interventions and colonial violence. “Living in the U.S., my life has been marked by witnessing colonialism, and its ultimate expression in Israel’s occupation of Palestine felt especially vivid after October 7,” she explains. Tess emphasizes the responsibility she feels as an American: the weapons used in the conflict are made, sold, and funded in her country, implicating her complicity. Additionally, her background as a farmer deepens her emotional response to the destruction of land, olive trees, and ecosystems in Palestine. She also mourns the destruction of libraries, archives, and cultural artifacts, which represent precious human knowledge and heritage.
Maria, 65, is a criminal defense lawyer from New Zealand. Her professional life has been devoted to standing beside marginalized individuals in court, a guiding principle for her activism for global human rights. She recalls the first large-scale demonstrations for Palestine in New Zealand occurred shortly after October 2023, when images and testimonies from Gaza began circulating widely. In Auckland, thousands marched down Queen Street, representing a broad coalition of young families, long-time activists, Pacific Islander communities, Māori sovereignty advocates, union members, and students. For Maria, this marked a transition from isolated protests to a significant social movement.
Her motivation to participate stems from a commitment to fairness and the principle that all lives matter equally. She draws personal resonance from parallels with the historical dispossession of Māori people in Aotearoa and her Irish heritage, recognizing patterns of structural violence and intergenerational trauma.
Francesca, 30, from Italy, recalls demonstrations for Palestine began a few months after October 2023, though protests had occurred in various forms prior. In Turin, Piazza Castello has been transformed into a symbolic “Piazza Palestina,” with a permanent sit-in where young protesters share information by day and sleep in tents by night—a striking display of commitment and visibility.
Francesca’s sense of solidarity comes from both academic study and following news as well as following Palestinian photographers, journalists, and writers like Francesca Albanese, on Instagram. She also reads books and novels written by Palestinians to better understand their culture, history, and experiences.
Gabrielle, 31, from Australia, recalls major protests in Sydney, particularly at Town Hall, began around October 23, 2023. Her motivation to participate was fueled by feelings of helplessness while doomscrolling through her phone. Attending rallies felt like the minimum she could do in response to the crisis.
Though Gabrielle is not Palestinian, her work in fashion has brought her into contact with Arab and Muslim designers. Hearing their grief made the crisis feel personally close.
Thomas, 62, a mechanical engineer who spent most of his career in the steel industry, lives in Wollongong with his wife and has three children and seven grandchildren. For him, activism is a privilege, but also a moral responsibility.
In Sydney and Wollongong, Thomas also observed a rapid growth in protest participation. Thomas joined these protests because he could not “stomach sitting at home watching the horror” while governments remained silent. Having previously protested against the Vietnam and Iraq wars, he felt a personal obligation to act.
Thomas’s connection to the Palestinian cause is not familial but deeply human. As a father and grandfather, he identifies with the suffering of Palestinian families, seeing it as enough to establish a meaningful connection. His solidarity arises from both personal experiences and attentive media consumption.
People stay informed by cross-referencing multiple sources, prioritizing Palestinian voices over mainstream news, as illustrated in the examples below.
Maria triangulates sources by consulting The Guardian and Al Jazeera English while prioritizing firsthand Palestinian accounts, giving historically oppressed voices the presumption of credibility. Gabrielle and Francesca echo this skepticism, barely trusting mainstream outlets and instead relying on Palestinians speaking for themselves. Thomas follows ABC, The Guardian, Al Jazeera, and podcasts while engaging with Palestinian journalists online, his perspective also shaped by interactions with Arab-Australian colleagues over the years.
Hannah is clear: “Of course not! Instagram footage of bombardments and the endless surveillance by noisy drones gives us an idea. I have traveled in the Middle East, so I have some understanding of the region, but I am immensely fortunate that I have no experience of daily survival under occupier violence.”
Paul admits,while he empathizes, he cannot fully understand daily life in Gaza. “I can understand some of the impacts of occupation, and perhaps what life is like in the West Bank. But I cannot imagine entire families being wiped out, or entire apartment blocks being destroyed indiscriminately, as we see in Gaza,” he explains.
When asked about the recognition of the State of Palestine, people view it with cautious hope, tempered by skepticism, while all demand more meaningful action.
Hannah considers it as a crucial first step. “As I understand it, Israel’s power—financial, military, diplomatic—is cemented by denying Palestinian rights and dehumanizing Palestinian people. Recognition is surely a start,” she says.
Regarding the impact of popular solidarity, she is skeptical. “Governments behave as they want and tend to follow the money. But I am idealistic enough to think that people’s power counts for something; after all, governments are made of people.” She views recognition as both symbolic and capable of giving Palestinians agency..
Tess shares this cautious hope, believing solidarity can push governments to act despite the challenges of achieving tangible change.
Gabrielle recognizes, while symbols don’t rebuild homes, they can shape policy over time. The contrast between protesting safely in Australia and Gaza’s reality feels heavy and disorienting. She understands why Palestinians say foreign solidarity isn’t enough, acknowledging her participation as a privilege she feels obliged to use.
Francesca sees the recognition of the State of Palestine by Western governments as a symbolic first step, affirming Palestinian existence, but believes it requires concrete political and humanitarian measures to matter. She is convinced popular solidarity has real impact, citing grassroots activism such as roadblocks, port disruptions, and fundraising projects providing direct support to families in Gaza.
Thomas views recognition as hopeful, signaling shifting global opinion. He believes public pressure is crucial, drawing from history that change occurs slowly but steadily; recognition affects diplomacy and legitimacy even if it doesn’t stop immediate suffering.
Paul is cautiously optimistic. “It’s a double-edged sword. Recognition might indicate governments acknowledge that this must stop, but it can also be a way to wash their hands of responsibility. In some countries like Ireland or Spain, it’s genuine. In Britain, it may just be an excuse for inaction,” he says.
“Recognition is symbolic unless backed by consistent action. Real change comes from sustained pressure on Israel, similar to international actions taken against Russia or apartheid-era South Africa—boycotts, cultural and sporting sanctions, and widespread political accountability.”
Looking ahead, Paul remains committed to long-term activism. “I have always believed in a two-state solution as a model, drawing from peace processes in Northern Ireland. But current political realities, including Israeli leadership seeking complete control over the land, make the solution uncertain. I will continue to support Palestine and advocate for justice, peace, and freedom,” he concludes.
All the interviewees expressed similar intentions to dedicate a lifelong commitment to achieving a free Palestine.
Hannah affirms, “I feel changed by what I’ve learned from Palestinian people I am in touch with directly and via Instagram. I will support the cause for a free Palestine for the rest of my life.”
Francesca integrates advocacy into her teaching, highlighting Palestinian writers and fostering decolonial perspectives in her classroom. Additionally, she runs a personal project centered on Palestinian film and culture, aiming to maintain attention and promote awareness over the years.
Thomas envisions his activism as a long-term commitment, pledging to continue showing up “until I can’t,” driven by both empathy and moral responsibility.
Maria sees her activism as a lifelong commitment. At 65, she has witnessed many struggles, both resolved and ongoing, and views Palestine as far from a passing moment. She intends to remain involved in whatever capacity she can, making this cause an integral part of her life’s work.
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