“AMIDST the suffering of this war, talk of cultural heritage might seem trivial, but to many Palestinians it does matter,” the BBC’s Middle East correspondent Yolande Knell said. Crossing Continents: Saving Gaza’s past (Radio 4, Tuesday) told the story of the historic part played by Gaza as a crossroads for ancient civilisations, and the recent bombardment by Israel of so many of its ancient sites.
“Today, there are no heritage sites left. Our life is no longer dignified, and we are terribly sad,” said one man who currently lives with numerous other displaced people on the site of the ancient port of Anthedon, excavated amid great excitement in the 1990s. “No sane person would choose to live on top of their own historic sites.”
Among the sites destroyed are Gaza’s oldest mosque, its oldest church, and the 13th-century palace turned museum, Qasr al-Basha, where Napoleon stayed in 1799.
Hamas stands accused of disregarding Palestinian heritage and Palestinian lives by building housing and military complexes on archaeological sites. Meanwhile, South Africa speaks of attacks on Gaza’s heritage as evidence of genocide in the case that it is bringing against Israel at the International Court of Justice. An Israeli archaeologist, Alon Arad, says that the country’s Right values only the histories that support its policies and territorial ambitions. “Heritage has taken on a nationalist edge. It becomes part of the war.”
The silver lining to this very dark cloud is the fact that, since 2006, many of the treasures in Gaza have been safely stored far from home, in Geneva. Some are currently on display in Paris at the Institut du Monde Arabe. “Thank God that these archaeological pieces are here, and not in Gaza,” the Palestininan archaeologist Fadel al-Otul says. Somehow, he still has hope. “The day will come when the war in Gaza will be over. We will do restoration, and we will have a museum.”
William Crawley was in St Peter’s Square, in Rome, earlier this month for the canonisation of “God’s influencer” Carlo Acutis, who died, aged just 15, in 2006 (News, 12 September). (Heart and Soul: My blessed boy: The millennial saint, World Service, Friday). Crawley also visited Assisi, to speak to Carlo’s mother and to view the glass tomb housing the boy’s body, which is dressed in jeans and trainers.
In Milan, Crawley spoke to pupils at the school that Carlo had attended. “Having a saint browsing the internet is extraordinary,” one said. Carlo, who was brilliant with computers, devoted the last two and half years of his life to creating a website detailing eucharistic miracles, complete with a virtual museum.
The stories about this young man were interesting enough, and some explanation of how the Roman Catholic Church declares someone a saint was necessary. I would have liked more discussion of the extent to which Carlo can serve as a model for the digital age, when that world is developing so rapidly. At the time of his death, YouTube and Twitter were in their infancy, and TikTok was ten years away. The branding that has now sprung up around Carlo uses tools that he could not have dreamed of.
What strikes me about the digital legacy that he himself created is how little of “me” there is in it — which is, perhaps, the true mark of a saint.
Gerry Lynch is away.