Opinion ‘The Voice of Hind Rajab’ shows bearing witness — and moral self-congratulation — is not enough
A film mourning Palestinian death circulating through structures entangled with ideological and material support for the very conditions that enable that death. What do standing ovations for a beautifully executed, heart-wrenching project do to Palestinian life and survival?
Even as we watch, celebrate and discuss the film, millions continue to starve in a man-made famine. (AP/File) The Voice of Hind Rajab (2025), directed by the Tunisian filmmaker Kaouther Ben Hania, makes for difficult watching. The viewer knows what’s going to happen. There are no happy endings amidst genocides, especially when the violence hasn’t ended. The film intersperses the actual voice recordings of Hind with dramatisation of the frantic attempts to rescue her via an ambulance. On January 29, 2024, Palestinian Red Crescent received an emergency call from Gaza. Members of the Hammada family were trapped in a car, having been hit by an IDF tank while trying to evacuate Gaza City’s Tel al-Hawa neighbourhood . All others had died in the relentless firing; six-year-old Hind pleaded to be rescued. As we know, none of the passengers survived. Israeli forces also attacked and killed the ambulance medics sent for rescue.
Hind’s death, and the killing of the medics, underscore the futility of procedure in the face of impunity. Co-produced by Tunisia and France, the film is backed by Hollywood figures including Brad Pitt and Joaquin Phoenix. While American distributors initially avoided the project, its award-season success — notably a prolonged standing ovation at the Venice International Film Festival — has propelled it to global prominence.
Ben Hania has described the film as an act of witnessing — an attempt to ensure Hind’s voice is heard and not erased. The question that lingers is whether a film can function as witness while a genocide is ongoing. If the logic is that such films bring about awareness and that there is a need for Hind’s story to be preserved and circulated, then the question that emerges is, “What is left to raise awareness about?” This genocide has been livestreamed, yet global impunity has continued. Even as we watch, celebrate and discuss the film, millions continue to starve in a man-made famine. Hind’s story — like many other Palestinian men, women and children — is not frozen in history but something ongoing, which needs concrete solidarity in the form of boycotts, protests and political pressure hand-in-hand with artistic enterprise.
This unease is sharpened by the political economy of the film. Its celebrated reception coexists with continued American military, diplomatic, and financial support for Israeli occupation and assault. The contradiction is difficult to ignore: A film mourning Palestinian death circulating through structures entangled with ideological and material support for the conditions that enable that death. What do standing ovations for a beautifully executed, heart-wrenching project do to Palestinian life and survival?
This is not to say art is useless. Art has always been a significant vehicle in the cause of justice; recent Indian films on police violence (Santosh) or caste discrimination (Homebound; Bison Kaalamaadan) are cases in point. But bearing witness must not collapse into a form of self-congratulation and complacency — that by participating in this artistic process, we have done our part or absolved ourselves. Instead, creators must reflect on whether this can go beyond symbolic condemnation and towards changing conditions of inequality and violence.
The writer is a freelance writer and PhD scholar
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