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In times of profound geopolitical upheaval, and moral testing, the true character of nations and their leadership is revealed — not through slogans, but through action. As the Arab region continues to witness one of the gravest humanitarian catastrophes in its modern history — the brutal and prolonged assault on Gaza — the disparity between rhetoric and reality grows ever starker.
Since the beginning of the Israeli aggression on the Gaza Strip in October 2023, the world has watched in horror as entire neighborhoods have been reduced to rubble, children buried under debris, and hospitals transformed into graveyards. The death toll has become a number, numbingly rising with each passing day. Yet amid this unbearable human suffering, the Arab and Islamic world’s response has been mixed. Outrage has been loud, but tangible solidarity has been scarce. In this paradox, we see the stark division between those who choose to act and those who are content to comment.
What is deeply alarming is that those who act are often the very targets of baseless criticism. Take, for instance, º£½ÇÖ±²¥, Jordan and the UAE — three Arab states that have taken concrete, coordinated steps to deliver lifesaving humanitarian aid to Gaza. These efforts include air-dropped medical supplies, land convoys of food and flour, field hospitals, and even diplomatic pressure to facilitate humanitarian corridors. Rather than being acknowledged, these efforts are often derided or dismissed outright.
Just days ago, Jordanian trucks were seen crossing into Gaza, laden with flour, medicine, and essentials. This came after months of famine and humanitarian blockade. Similar aid from º£½ÇÖ±²¥ and the UAE has been dispatched repeatedly through Egyptian and Jordanian crossings. Yet what did this spark? An avalanche of online criticism, accusations of normalization, and claims of political theater. Some denied the images and videos altogether; others accused us of coordinating with the Israeli occupation, as if helping the wounded and starving somehow equates to betrayal.
This intellectual and moral duplicity not only undermines Jordan’s efforts but also exposes a deeper rot — an obsession with ideological purity over practical compassion. Critics, often ensconced in digital echo chambers and hotel lobbies, prefer slogans over solutions. They vilify aid because it is not coupled with revolution, and they attack those who do something, however small, because it is not everything.

Every child saved today is a future voice for Palestine.

Hani Hazaimeh

Let us be clear: Jordan’s support for Palestine is neither cosmetic nor contingent. It is rooted in history, blood, and political principle. From the 1948 Nakba to the ongoing siege of Gaza, Jordan has carried a disproportionate burden of the Palestinian tragedy — hosting millions of refugees, advocating at every international forum, and absorbing the political and economic consequences of standing by Palestine. What Jordan has done, and continues to do, is a reflection of state policy grounded in pan-Arab nationalism and a moral worldview.
And Jordan has not stood alone. º£½ÇÖ±²¥ has played a critical diplomatic and financial role, pressing international actors to ceasefire negotiations and providing major aid packages. The UAE, too, has dispatched multiple aid convoys and field hospitals, particularly to northern Gaza. These efforts represent a concerted Arab move to alleviate suffering — not because it is easy, but because it is right.
Do these efforts resolve the core issue of occupation? No. But are they futile? Absolutely not. In a time when Gaza is being starved into submission, every truck, every plane, and every pill becomes an act of resistance — a rejection of death, a declaration of life.
Unfortunately, the loudest critics rarely offer alternatives. Instead of mobilizing support, they mobilize hashtags. Instead of donating, they denounce. Their worldview is binary: either full liberation or full betrayal. This maximalist logic has paralyzed Arab action for decades and helped no one, least of all the Palestinians.
More dangerous still is the normalization of nihilism. To claim that no effort matters unless it achieves complete liberation is to ignore the complexity of political struggle. It is to surrender the realm of the possible in favor of performative purity. It is to forget that while the dream of a free Palestine is sacred, it must be pursued through all available means — diplomatic, humanitarian, and, yes, pragmatic.
We in Jordan do not claim sainthood. We acknowledge that Gaza’s needs exceed our capacity. But it is unjust to scapegoat Jordan while wealthier, more capable actors do far less. Our commitment stems not from opportunism but from obligation. And it continues in the face of political backlash, security risks, and logistical nightmares.
We understand the frustration of Palestinians in Gaza — the parents burying children, the doctors working without anesthetics, the displaced living without hope. They have every right to be angry. But let their anger be directed toward those who bomb, besiege, and occupy — not those who rush to offer help.
To our critics, we say: What have you done? Did you sponsor a child? Did you send food or medicine? Did you speak to your governments or write to your lawmakers? Or did you merely tweet your indignation from a cafe, then move on?
The real betrayal is silence. The real complicity is inaction. In this region’s darkest hour, lighting even a single candle — be it a truck, a medical tent, or a public statement — is infinitely more valuable than screaming into the void. Because in Gaza today, a loaf of bread can mean survival. A dose of insulin can mean life. A warm blanket can mean dignity.
Let us not romanticize suffering. Let us not fetishize resistance while ignoring the bleeding wound. Every child saved today is a future voice for Palestine. Every family helped is a shield against despair. And every Arab government that chooses action over apathy is keeping the cause alive — not in museum speeches but in lived reality.
Jordan will continue to act. Not because it is easy. Not because it is popular. But because it is right. Our moral compass does not waver with the winds of public opinion. And we remain convinced that Palestine is not a seasonal cause or a trending topic, but a permanent moral obligation.
In the end, we do not seek applause. We seek results. We seek to feed the hungry, heal the wounded, and preserve a flicker of hope in a sea of darkness. The path to liberation is long, and it passes through many roads — some political, some humanitarian, some military. But none of these roads are paved by cynicism alone.
So let the critics shout. Let the cynics scoff. We will continue lighting candles — because Gaza needs light, not lectures. And when history writes this chapter, it will remember neither the tweets nor the tirades, but the trucks that arrived, the hands that helped, and the hearts that stood firm.

• Hani Hazaimeh is a senior editor based in Amman. X: @hanihazaimeh