On this day in 2003, the IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) tragically ended the life of American activist Rachel Corrie while she valiantly protected homes in Rafah from destruction. As Israel looms on the brink of invading the city, a volunteer who stood in solidarity with Rachel reflects on her enduring legacy—a poignant plea for unwavering support for the people of Gaza.
Rachel Corrie, a twenty-three-year-old at the time, delivered a speech during a mock trial of US president George W. Bush on March 5, 2003, in Rafah refugee camp within the Gaza Strip. (Abid Katib / Getty Images)
Presently, there is arguably no place on Earth as burdened with despair and apprehension as Rafah, pressed against Gaza’s border with Egypt.
Since mid-October, Israeli forces have already rampaged through Gaza City and Khan Younis, inflicting mass casualties, demolishing homes, and sowing hunger and fear in their wake. Over a million Palestinians sought refuge in Rafah, swelling its population to seven times its previous size.
Yet, the ominous specter of an imminent Israeli invasion now looms over Rafah, portending catastrophic consequences.
Rafah stands today as a sprawling urban landscape, characterized by makeshift shelters of canvas and plastic amidst concrete structures; a place gripped by cold, hunger, and despair. Diseases run rampant, forcing people to trade scant food for medicine, while women resort to tearing tents for use as makeshift sanitary pads. The city harbors a staggering number of orphans, estimated to be as high as ten thousand, struggling to survive amidst the turmoil.
In a cruel twist of fate, last year, Israel directed airstrikes over Khan Younis, urging Palestinians to seek refuge in nonexistent “shelters” in Rafah to evade the conflict. Tragically, there were no shelters to offer protection, and the people found no escape. In the early stages of the war, a devastating airstrike claimed the lives of thirty-five members of a friend’s extended family in a single brutal assault on the town, predominantly women and children.
While direct assaults on Rafah remain sporadic, the distant echoes of air raids from the north serve as a grim reminder that the worst may be yet to unfold.
Just recently, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu asserted that failure to invade Rafah would equate to his nation’s defeat, vowing to launch an invasion unless all Israeli hostages were released.
US Secretary of State Antony Blinken has emphasized that Washington will not endorse an invasion of Rafah without a clearly defined plan to safeguard civilians, a plan that is yet to materialize. Israeli officials are reportedly contemplating a scheme to relocate Palestinians from Rafah to distant “humanitarian islands” to the north—where scarcity of food and medicine already prevails, pushing people to the brink of starvation.
President Joe Biden has condemned the prospect of a Rafah invasion as “unacceptable,” yet pledged no repercussions should Israel cross that perilous threshold, as it has done numerous times before. Netanyahu, in his characteristic defiance, retorted, “We’ll go there. We’re not going to leave them,” underscoring his unwavering resolve.
A Tragic Episode in Rafah’s Turbulent History
During the peak of the second intifada in 2002–03, I resided in Rafah as a volunteer with the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), a Palestinian-led organization advocating for nonviolent resistance against the occupation. Among my comrades was Rachel Corrie, an American volunteer hailing from Olympia, Washington State, known for her quirky humor that masked a profound sense of purpose—a facet of her character that I would only fully grasp in retrospect. Another notable figure was , a skilled photographer who succumbed to a fatal gunshot wound inflicted by an Israel Defense Forces (IDF) sniper in April 2003, eventually succumbing to a nine-month coma the following year.
Rachel Corrie. (Courtesy of the Corrie family)
Even back then, Rafah bore the scars of conflict, described by Rachel as “razed and bullet-riddled and bare.” Our nights were often spent in the homes of families residing near the border with Egypt. Israel had been clearing out a swath of land there to establish a free-fire zone, granting their troops a tactical advantage along the border. Families were intermittently warned to evacuate through megaphones or faced gunfire raining into their homes until they fled. At any given moment, regardless of demolition activities, the homes along the border were susceptible to barrages of bullets.
Not every bullet fired at the walls penetrated through, but some did, particularly those discharged from more potent firearms. Every visitor to our friend Abu Jamil’s house, including Rachel, couldn’t overlook the bullet holes peppering the interior walls at head height, just above the kitchen sink, as they interacted with his children.
Upon receiving distress calls from Palestinians, we would rally to protest against Israel’s armored bulldozers as they operated along the border, monitoring their actions and intervening to prevent home demolitions. While our efforts occasionally stalled their progress and shed light on the situation, granting a temporary reprieve to a family here and there, the demolitions persisted. Meanwhile, the impending invasion of Iraq dominated global attention, diverting focus from the plight unfolding in Rafah.
Cynthia and Craig Corrie, parents of Rachel, with the Nasrallah family. (Courtesy of the Corrie family)
On the fateful day of March 16, 2003, a little after 5:00 p.m., I bore witness as one of Israel’s colossal bulldozers veered towards the residence of Dr. Samir Nasrallah and his young family. Rachel, a close acquaintance of Dr. Samir, positioned herself between the house and the approaching bulldozer. As the bulldozer advanced, it began amassing a mound of earth in front of its blade, creating an obstacle in Rachel’s path. Undeterred, Rachel ascended the growing mound, struggling to maintain her balance on the soft earth, bracing herself with her hands until her head rose above the blade’s level. The driver, perhaps meeting her gaze, pressed on, causing Rachel to lose her footing.
A few weeks prior to this tragic incident, Rachel documented a dream about falling in her journal:
“… falling to my death off of something dusty and smooth and crumbling like the cliffs in Utah, but I kept holding on, and when each new foothold or handle of rock broke, I reached out as I fell and grabbed a new one. I didn’t have time to think about anything — just react… And I heard, ‘I can’t die, I can’t die,’ again and again in my head.”
The soil on the border of Rafah, a blend of clay and sand, bore a warm hue akin to the cliffs of Utah. Looking back, much like Rachel’s other writings, the nightmare she recounted bore an eerie prescience.
Despite her valiant efforts, Rachel couldn’t maintain her balance; the bulldozer relentlessly pushed forward, engulfing her, crushing her beneath the earth. I held her hands in the ambulance as we rushed to the hospital, where she drew her last breath. In my recollection of the harrowing event, penned two days later, I noted that ten Palestinians had perished across Gaza since Rachel, their deaths largely unnoticed beyond the enclave.
Rachel Corrie stands in front of an IDF bulldozer in Rafah, Gaza, on the day she was killed. (Courtesy of ISM Palestine)
Setting aside my personal bond with Rachel, recounting this tragic episode evokes a sense of unease that warrants acknowledgment, particularly in light of the ongoing devastation in Rafah. Our objective, all those years ago, aimed to subvert a racist framework of violence and the biased allocation of attention that accompanied it, with the intent to dismantle those very structures. Some may argue that such endeavors were inherently idealistic or that attempting to exploit a racially biased structure, like our endeavor to draw global attention to Gaza, inadvertently reinforces that structure.
Nevertheless, having made my commitment over two decades ago, I remain steadfast. Whenever called upon to share Rachel’s story, I do so not only to honor a dear friend but in the hope that her narrative serves as a conduit to illuminate broader truths about the brutality of occupation and the political dynamics enabling such violence, resonating ultimately with Palestinians and, specifically, with Rafah. I believe these truths extend beyond borders.
Israel’s military operates under the presumption of impunity. Consequently, when confronted with rare instances of potential accountability, such as the killing of a , the system struggles to respond adequately, often resorting to a web of deceit. In Rachel’s case, instead of merely contesting the specifics of our eyewitness accounts, the authorities concocted a false narrative alleging that Rachel had sought refuge behind an earth embankment and perished due to a falling concrete slab. However, photographic evidence from the scene, both pre and post Rachel’s death, unequivocally refuted these fabrications, confirming that she stood in an open area.
In a familiar pattern, the official response unfolded in a sequence of denials, shifting blame, disavowing liability, and ultimately demonizing the victims as terrorists. The IDF’s commander for the southern Gaza strip during the incident confidently asserted in a Haifa court, “a terror organization dispatched Rachel Corrie to obstruct IDF soldiers. I state this with absolute certainty.” Observers of the ongoing conflict will recognize a recurring pattern of such unequivocal declarations.
The Global Implications of Israel’s Unchecked Power
Volunteers who journey to conflict zones to stand in solidarity with frontline communities embody the essence of internationalist principles. This tradition endures today, whether in the hills of the West Bank, providing medical aid to Ukrainian soldiers confronting Russian forces, supporting the revolutionaries in Myanmar, or combating the atrocities of the so-called Islamic State alongside the People’s Protection Units in northeastern Syria. While these endeavors and the individuals involved are not without flaws, the profound solidarity and connection they foster are unparalleled.
However, such endeavors are not universally suitable and need not be. The solidarity exhibited by volunteers must align with a broader initiative aimed at mobilizing state powers—particularly the United States—toward shared objectives, a cause that can engage a wider spectrum of individuals. In the context of Palestine, this endeavor commences with galvanizing public support and political pressure to secure a ceasefire and halt military assistance to Israel. This necessitates persistent advocacy directed at Biden and the defense of a ceasefire against those advocating punitive measures.
The United States sustains Israel’s occupation through substantial , thereby underwriting the ongoing conflict in Gaza. Jeremy Konyndyk, a former senior official in the Biden administration, revealed that the administration facilitated an unprecedented volume of arms sales within a condensed timeframe, indicating that the Israeli offensive would be unsustainable without extensive US backing.
The repercussions of this support, starkly evident in Rafah, underscore that Israel’s sense of impunity is an export of American origin. However, merely withdrawing this support may prove insufficient. Imposing sanctions designed to compel acknowledgment of the fundamental rights of Palestinians will be imperative, extending beyond targeting and their allies.
The call for sanctions poses a direct challenge to the underlying, unspoken premise of US policy toward Israel. While Biden and his administration may advocate for a Palestinian state and urge Israeli restraint, the foundational principle, steadfast for three decades and dominant for decades prior, dictates that Israel must never be compelled to make concessions. Israel may be persuaded, flattered, coaxed, and nudged, but never coerced. Consequently, Palestine remains ensnared in a perpetual state of exception.
A relative of Dr. Nasrallah, the pharmacist whose family home Rachel valiantly defended, shared his sense of Rafah being engulfed in a “black hole,” where international norms hold no sway, and the world remains oblivious to their plight.
Recounting a grim incident where he returned home to witness the aftermath of an airstrike on a neighboring building, resulting in the annihilation of at least two families and the loss of two children, the relative described the pervasive despair and anguish. Men are reduced to tears at the slightest setback, grappling with the inability to provide for their families. He lamented the precarious balance between life and death that pervades their existence.
An impending invasion of Rafah, possibly weeks away, threatens a catastrophe “beyond imagination,” as underscored by United Nations assessments. Echoing the sentiments Rachel expressed weeks before her demise, “I think it is a good idea for us all to drop everything and devote our lives to making this stop.”