‘Buried alive under the sand’: how British weapons killed Palestinians

This day last year, the beach at Al-Mawasi – designated as a “safe zone” by Israel – became the scene of a major massacre in Gaza.

Israeli jets fired explosive missiles at the tents of displaced civilians who were receiving food aid.

According to the Palestinian Ministry of Health in Gaza, more than 90 people were killed and over 300 others were injured, many of them women and children.

Survivors still struggle to comprehend what happened, holding the international community – particularly the UK – directly responsible on moral and humanitarian grounds.

This comes after learning that the aircraft used in the attack, F-35s, were partially manufactured in Britain.

Last month, a UK judge ruled it permissible to continue supplying Israel with spare parts for these jets.

‘We woke up to fire and dust’

Thuraya Moammar, a displaced woman from northern Gaza, was in her tent with her family when the bombing began.

With pain in her voice, she told Declassified: “We woke up at 10:30 in the morning. The air was stifling, so we stepped out of the tent to catch a breath.

“Suddenly, we heard the first missile, followed by a thick cloud of dust that covered everything. We couldn’t see a thing. Then came the second and third strikes. There was no time to run…

“Moments later, the noise subsided. We looked around and not a single tent was left standing. The sand had swallowed everything.”

Thuraya is still grappling with severe psychological trauma. She adds: “When I found out that the plane that destroyed our tents and killed our neighbors was partially made in Britain, I felt like we’re not just dying from Israeli missiles – but also from court rulings made far away, by people who know nothing about our children.”

Majed Awad, a displaced resident from Jabalia in northern Gaza, was present at the moment of the strike, standing in line to receive aid from UNRWA.

“We were in line waiting for food for our children. Suddenly, the aid was covered in blood, and the queues turned into scattered bodies. How can you bomb hungry people waiting for their food?”

He adds, his voice tinged with anger: “When we hear that a judge in Britain approved the continued sale of parts for the planes that bombed us, it feels as if our lives were completely disregarded as if our suffering means nothing to them.”

Mohammed Al-Maznar, a displaced man from western Gaza City, recounts the incident as if it had just happened: “We were sitting near the tents when suddenly three explosive missiles rained down on us.

“Children and debris were thrown into the air. My nephew was just about to enter the tent when a piece of shrapnel struck his head. He was killed instantly.

“They told us Al-Mawasi was a safe zone, but all we found there was death.”

Mohammed raises his hand and points to the sky: “There were no doves of peace flying above us, only warplanes, parts of which were made in British factories. Don’t our lives matter at all?”

Eleven days after the massacre, government lawyers formally advised UK foreign secretary David Lammy to take the view that “overall Israel is not committed to complying” with international humanitarian law, court documents show.

Yet it took Britain’s Labour government almost another six weeks to impose any arms restrictions on Israel, during which time two more consignments of F-35 parts were sent directly to Israel.

Even once Lammy finally implemented some restrictions, they included a ‘carve-out’ that allowed F-35 parts to keep flowing from Britain to Israel provided they went via a third country.

‘Choking on gunpowder and sand’

In Gaza, these arms exports have devastating consequences. Heba Nuweijeh, a displaced woman from Rafah in the far south of the Gaza Strip, had recently completed her university degree in law but was never able to practice her profession due to the war.

Following an Israeli evacuation order, she sought refuge in Al-Mawasi. She recalls the moment she narrowly survived: “They told us Al-Mawasi was safe. We arrived, and just days later, we were attacked.

“The missiles buried us under the sand. I managed to raise only my hand to wave at rescuers so they wouldn’t bury me alive. I was choking on gunpowder and sand.

“When they pulled me out, I began searching for my children and husband… The explosion had thrown them several meters away. We found them unconscious.”

Heba didn’t hesitate when asked about her feelings toward the fact that the aircraft used in the attack was partly manufactured in Britain: “How can Britain – the country that once taught us it was the mother of law – take part in the killing of my children?

“Is it because we are Palestinians that our blood can be spilled with a court’s approval?”

Israel insists the attack was aimed at Mohammed Deif, the military commander of the Al-Qassam Brigades, and Rafa Salameh, a local Hamas leader.

Hamas later said Deif died the same month as the massacre, but the IDF has provided no explanation for the high number of civilian casualties, which the UN said was disproportionate.

In the end, the survivors are left with a mix of confusion and betrayal not only by the occupying force that bombed them, but also by governments and international institutions that chose to look away, or worse, became complicit knowingly or not in arming the machinery of death.

Their question is simple, yet deeply painful: “How can those who equip these wings of death sleep at night? And how does a judge in Britain justify leaving us under the bombs?”