Earlier this year, I was present at the Sydney protest rally where Grace Tame made her now infamous pro-Palestinian speech and called on supporters to “globalise the Intifada.” I have also heard the phrase used at other gatherings and protests. And I am aware of the strong opposition to those who use the term and promote its intent.
What is the “Intifada,” and should we globalise it?
To some, calls to globalise the Intifada are a legitimate appeal for international solidarity with Palestinians living under occupation and displacement. To others, it is a deeply offensive phrase evoking memories of violence and terror. The slogan has become a flashpoint in broader discussions about political resistance, justice, historical memory, freedom of expression, and prospects for peace in the region.
The meaning of the phrase or slogan is shaped by complex political and cultural histories and collective memory. A serious assessment requires attending to its literal meaning, how it is heard by different communities, and why those interpretations so sharply differ.
The Arabic word intifada means “shaking off” or “uprising.” The term may refer to violence but can refer more broadly to resistance, mobilisation, or a collective effort to throw off an unwanted impediment to freedom. Yet words acquire meanings through historical events, and in contemporary political discourse the term is inseparable from the Palestinian national struggle.
The First Intifada (1987–1993) was a largely grassroots uprising against Israeli occupation in the West Bank and Gaza. It involved demonstrations, strikes, boycotts, community organising, and various forms of civil disobedience. Violence occurred, but many historians regard the movement as one of the most significant examples of popular resistance in the late twentieth century. For many Palestinians, the First Intifada remains a symbol of dignity, agency, and collective determination in the face of military rule.
The Second Intifada (2000–2005) left a different legacy. Marked by suicide bombings, shootings, Israeli military operations, and extensive civilian casualties, it produced deep trauma among both Palestinians and Israelis. For many Israelis and Jews around the world, the term intifada is therefore associated not primarily with civil resistance but with terrorism and insecurity. The same word that evokes resilience and liberation for some evokes fear and grief for others.
This divergence of memory lies at the heart of contemporary disputes over the slogan. Supporters often argue that “Globalise the Intifada” means extending awareness, protest, advocacy, and political pressure beyond the Middle East. In their view, the slogan belongs within a tradition of international solidarity movements, including campaigns against colonialism, racial segregation, and apartheid. They contend that Palestinians, like other peoples experiencing dispossession or political subordination, are entitled to seek global support for their cause.
Advocates also note that many criticisms of the slogan appear to focus on language while neglecting the conditions that give rise to resistance. They point to decades of occupation, settlement expansion, displacement, restrictions on movement, and recurring military conflict. From this perspective, the slogan reflects frustration with a political process that has repeatedly failed to deliver meaningful progress toward Palestinian self-determination.
Critics argue that the slogan cannot be separated from the historical experiences through which many people have come to understand it. For those who remember the Second Intifada, calls to “globalise” it may sound like an endorsement of confrontation or violence rather than a call for justice. Even when activists intend otherwise, opponents argue that politically-charged language carries moral responsibilities as well as intentions.
Should the meaning of a slogan be determined by the intentions of those who use it, or by the perceptions of those who hear it? I would argue that public communication involves both speaker and audience, and a slogan may communicate one thing to its advocates and something very different to its critics. Understanding the resulting tensions may not resolve the disagreement, but it helps to explain why debates about the phrase have become so emotionally charged in recent months, not least in Australia.
The moral discussion is further complicated by the fact that there is no single community of users. The slogan is employed by a diverse range of actors, including Palestinian civil society organisations, student activists, human rights campaigners, secular nationalists, socialists, religious groups, and, in some contexts, movements that endorse armed struggle and terrorism. Consequently, its meaning often depends upon who is using it, where it is being used, and what stated and unstated objectives are being pursued.
The controversy also raises broader ethical questions about political resistance. What forms of resistance are morally legitimate? How should oppressed communities respond when they believe peaceful efforts have failed? Can political transformation be achieved without violence, and in what timeframe? These questions are not unique to Israel and Palestine. They have accompanied struggles against colonialism, racial oppression, dictatorship, and foreign occupation throughout modern history.
Some advocates of nonviolence point to the achievements of figures such as Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. Others respond that such examples emerged under the particular historical conditions pertaining to Israel and Palestine and cannot simply be transplanted into different contexts. Some Palestinian thinkers argue that repeated appeals to nonviolence risk becoming a strategy aimed at indefinitely postponing a just peace. Others maintain that violence ultimately undermines the moral and political goals it seeks to achieve, and renders peaceful outcomes increasingly unlikely.
Observers may reasonably disagree on such questions. Yet many would also agree that the deliberate targeting of civilians, whether by states or non-state actors, presents profound moral difficulties. The moral challenge is how to resist injustice in ways that preserve human dignity and leave open the possibility of a more peaceful future.
Moreover, what would a just peace look like? The phrase is widely invoked, yet its meaning remains contested. Some envision two sovereign states living side by side. Others favour a single democratic state with equal rights for all citizens. Still others advocate forms of confederation or shared sovereignty. Disagreements persist concerning borders, settlements, refugees, security arrangements, the status of Jerusalem, and national self-determination. Discussions about slogans often become proxies for deeper disagreement.
What, then, should we make of the call to “globalise the Intifada”? The answer depends, at least in part, on how one interprets the history of Palestinian resistance and how one weighs the power of historical memory. Some will view the phrase as a legitimate expression of solidarity with an oppressed people. Others will regard its associations with violence as too significant to ignore. Many may find themselves recognising elements of truth in both perspectives. This is not unusual in protracted historical-political disputes. Life is often complex.
Perhaps the enduring significance of the debate lies in the questions it raises. How should injustice be resisted? What responsibilities accompany solidarity? How should historical trauma shape contemporary political language? Can a movement seek liberation while also cultivating the conditions for future reconciliation?
There are no easy answers to these questions. Yet a durable and just peace for Israel and Palestine requires careful listening and attention to all of them. The challenge is not to win arguments about words, but to imagine forms of justice, security, and coexistence capable of addressing the fears, aspirations, and humanity of both peoples, and the political resolve to work toward a just peace for all in the region.
Rev Dr Rod Benson is General Secretary of the NSW Ecumenical Council and a minister of the Uniting Church in Australia serving at North Rocks Community Church in Sydney. Previously, he worked as a volunteer with the Australian committee of the Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and Israel, and travelled extensively in the region.
Image source: Former Australian of the Year Grace Tame speaking at a Sydney protest rally on 9 February 2026 (ABC News: Jack Fisher)
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