"Al-Quds"... A nation's memory in twenty thousand issues and epics

In a time when facts change as titles do, and identities are distorted in the corridors of politics and media, "Al-Quds" remains as proud as its name, as firm as the roots of the Holy City that earned the honor of its name, writing what the occupation is trying to erase with fire. It was not born from a vacuum, but in the heart of a city groping its way through the ashes of the Nakba, bleeding silently, and resisting without noise, in a city that has experienced "defeats" and disappointments, when it "fell" under occupation twice, so "Al-Quds" was building a homeland from ink, and crafting words into a weapon, a memory in the face of oblivion and displacement. It was not just a daily newspaper, but a protection project, when everything in it was threatened with loss.

As an act of resistance, raising the voice of the voiceless, and preserving the memory of the place from Judaization and oblivion, it was more than a newspaper; it was a national project in the face of liquidation, and a home for the free word. Since that day, “Al-Quds” has been fighting on two fronts: truth and survival. It breathed from the heart of the city, broadcasting its pulse and pain to the world. On the day Jerusalem was occupied for the last time, “Al-Quds” found itself in the heart of the battle, but it did not withdraw. Rather, it repositioned itself and advanced despite censorship and restrictions, to document an epic chapter in the story of a people, and to bear witness to the moment of the defeat of despair, the breaking of fear, and the rise of the word from under the rubble, advancing through the ranks like a shot of awareness.

Since its first issue, Al-Quds has not been merely a daily newspaper. It has not slid into populist media or noisy headlines, choosing accuracy over sensationalism and sobriety over noise. It has been a guardian of the word and a faithful narrator of the epic, writing the chapters of its catastrophe, as well as its heroism and steadfastness over decades.

Twenty thousand is not just a number in the publication register, but twenty thousand testimonies of the steadfastness of those who lived through the Nakba, tasted the bitterness of the Naksa, and rose up for Jerusalem and its holy sites. They told the stories of martyrs and prisoners, refugees and camps. They lived through the time of siege and victory, the time of division and moments of reconciliation, resistance and negotiations, daily stories of pain and oppression, in a spot that never rests, boiling like a cauldron, and with it the planet Earth.

From Jerusalem, it set out, not as a ream of paper, but as a platform and a dialogue arena with the world, carrying the pulse of the street, moving between ancient alleys, through closed gates, carrying the sorrows of stolen homes, documenting the battles of Sheikh Jarrah, Silwan, Bab al-Amud, and others, which there is no room to recount; making every line in its archive a testimony to the time of Jerusalem, and every image a mirror of the memory of a city for which wars are waged. It carried what major institutions did not carry, from oppression and censorship, to security and economic restrictions. It stood in the face of the digital media wave that swept through the largest newspapers. It lived through and kept pace with the transformation, and continued to serve as a journalistic school for entire generations of journalists, a platform that transcended political divisions, and a gathering place under the umbrella of Jerusalem, the capital. It was the voice of Al-Aqsa Mosque on the day its minarets fell silent. Each issue of Al-Quds was a picture of Palestine as it is, not as it is intended to be. It was a space for those who find no one to tell their stories, combining the national with the humanitarian, the struggle with the daily, politics with culture.

In its twenty thousandth issue, we do not celebrate the life of a journalist, but rather the word that creates steadfastness, with the power of ink in the face of gunpowder. We do not celebrate a number, but a journey. We do not celebrate paper, but a memory. We celebrate “Al-Quds,” which stood firm in the time of fall, advanced in the time of retreat, and remained faithful to its first message, a witness to the time of the Palestinian, to the open battle, and the rest of the warrior, to the massacre and the human tragedy, and to the dream that has not yet been fulfilled.

So peace be upon “Jerusalem” in the heart of the battle, and peace be upon the ink if it rises up and stands up, and peace be upon the word if it becomes the edge of a sword, and peace be upon “Jerusalem” in its twenty thousandth issue, as in its first issue, and peace be upon the mother of Jerusalem, the beacon of the earth and the gate of heaven, the throne of steadfastness and the destination of hearts, the beginning of every dream and the disappointment of “every stubborn tyrant.”

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On the day Jerusalem was occupied for the last time, it found itself at the heart of the battle. Yet it did not retreat; rather, it repositioned itself and advanced despite censorship and restrictions, documenting an epic chapter in the story of a people. It bore witness to the moment when despair was defeated, fear was shattered, and the word rose from the rubble, advancing through the ranks like a shot of awareness.