Haya AhmedWhen Israel’s war on Gaza exploded in October 2023, more than two million residents were cast into near total isolation. With phone lines severed and the internet repeatedly shuttered by Israeli forces, Palestinians were left to navigate a landscape of danger and displacement, relying on the faintest threads of connection to the outside world.
In this deadly vacuum, an older medium reasserted its place: radio. Once dismissed as a relic of the mid-20th century, it has become Gaza’s last unfailing line of communication, delivering news, connecting people, and giving them a sense that they are still part of the world, all through small battery-powered devices, carried in the palm of a hand.
In al-Mawasi, Khan Younis, on Gaza’s seashore where tattered tents sprawl under the weight of displacement, a small radio hums faintly amid the chaos.
A battered transmitter struggles against the noise of war. Sometimes the sound falters, buried beneath static; sometimes a familiar song breaks through, or the recitation of names of the dead, read each evening like a litany, filling the silence with grief and remembrance.
At the helm of Gaza’s last lifeline is Rafat Al-Qudrah, director of the Voice of Palestine and a veteran broadcaster.
He recalls how the station’s programming transformed overnight after October 7, 2023: “Before the war, the Voice of Palestine conveyed the pulse of the Palestinian street,” he says.
“We no longer have the luxury of producing entertainment programmes. Our job now is to constantly monitor the situation, as well as to try to support people and cover difficult human stories.”
He tells TRT World: “Every minute on the radio has become a huge responsibility: to document the war, convey the truth and be the voice of Palestinians to the world.”
The radio stations clinging to survival
Gaza’s few remaining radio stations, the Voice of Palestine, Radio Basma, and BBC’s Emergency Service ‘Gaza Daily’, broadcast over short and medium wave frequencies, accessible only by pocket radios.
Free from reliance on the internet, these waves carry vital information.
Through them, Palestinians in Gaza learn where air strikes are concentrated, when limited aid convoys arrive, whether a ceasefire is expected, and sometimes, simply, whether they can hear a song to ease their fear.
Most Gaza residents listen to the Voice of Palestine, which broadcasts national messages and the memories of those killed, keeping national identity alive, or Radio Basma, which broadcasts religious and humanitarian programmes alongside traditional Palestinian songs, with the aim of bringing Palestinians closer together.
The BBC Emergency Service, launched in November 2023 as Gaza Daily, provides breaking news, security instructions, and aid distribution information from Cairo and London, with daily broadcasts at 05:00 GMT and 15:00 GMT.
The journalists who continue to work under constant threat of targeted Israeli air strikes realise that their voices could mean the difference between life and death or isolation and reunion.
Iyad Abu Shawish, a broadcaster for Basma Radio, tells TRT World, “Every day we come to the studio not knowing if we’ll make it out alive. But we believe people need our voices. We read the names of the martyrs, announce where bread and water are being distributed, and sometimes play a song just to give them a moment of hope.”
Al Qudrah says despite the constant personal danger, he and his colleagues continue to work from makeshift studios in the living rooms of surviving houses or inside tents.
Their previous headquarters have been repeatedly targeted by Israel, and some of their equipment has been destroyed by air strikes. Yet they persist.
“We have tried to adapt,” he says. “We use old spare parts, borrow equipment from other institutions, and even resort to broadcasting from alternative locations such as homes or temporary facilities. Broadcasting in times of war requires creativity and determination.”
When power lines are disrupted during air strikes, equipment is left vulnerable. Engineers salvage old parts, shield antennas under plastic sheets, and rely on car batteries when generator fuel runs out.
Nabil Sanouno, a technician at Radio Palestine, says: “Every broadcast is an act of resistance. If the antenna falls, we climb and fix it—even if it means risking our lives.”
Historical waves
Radio has long traced the contours of Palestinian history, its airwaves bearing witness to struggle and resilience.
During the British Mandate in the 1930s, Palestine Broadcasting Service (PBS) operated under colonial oversight, its programmes heavily censored.
After the 1948 Nakba, PBS was dismantled, Palestinians would wait four decades to establish another homegrown service.
In 1994, following the Oslo Accords, the Palestinian Broadcasting Corporation (PBC) was founded. Known as the Voice of Palestine, the service endured bombardment in the Second Intifada, when an Israeli air strike destroyed its equipment in Gaza City’s Al Shujaiah neighbourhood in 2002. It has been broadcast on shortwave ever since.
Throughout history, radio has been a lifeline during times of war. During World War II, underground stations carried coded messages to resistance groups. In Bosnia in the 1990s, local broadcasts kept besieged communities connected.
The Voice of Palestine has always been regarded with suspicion by Israeli authorities, accused of fomenting resilience during periods of Palestinian uprising.
And now, once again, as Palestinians in Gaza face prolonged communications blackouts, local radio stations are reasserting their place in Palestinian society as a means of resistance and a voice that cannot be easily silenced.
Social lifeline dimension of radio
In Gaza, radio isn’t just a means of disseminating news; it’s a companion and a balm. Listening to the familiar voices of broadcasters alleviates anxiety and the isolation of siege.
“I never imagined that radio would be our only source of information,” says university student Liyaan Atallah, displaced from central Gaza to Mawasi Camp in Khan Younis. “Without the internet, I feel blind, but radio gives me back some of my sight. It has become our only voice.”
Some programmes allow listeners to phone in or deliver handwritten messages for relatives.
“The most common messages we receive are messages of steadfastness and prayers,” says Al-Qudrah, “Listeners tell us, ‘You are our voice, don’t leave us.’ Some simply ask that we mention their names on air so they know they are still alive and steadfast. These moments are deeply moving; they make us feel that we are not just a radio station, but a lifeline for the people.”
Radio also plays a vital role for Palestinian mothers. It announces where limited food and medicine are being distributed, and provides songs and stories to entertain children, creating a small sense of normalcy amid the chaos.
Inside a fragile tent she pitched after her home was destroyed, Umm Muhammad, a 42-year-old mother from Khan Younis, sits with an old radio beside her.
“The radio has become our companion,” she says. “At night we place it near the pillow, listening to the news, trying to understand what tomorrow will bring.”
Yet listening to it is not always easy. “Sometimes the batteries run out, and often we cannot find new ones. There is no electricity to charge devices, so we are forced to switch it off for long hours even when we desperately need it.”
Her children cling to the radio even more than she does. “They wait eagerly for the music segment,” she explains with a weary smile. “They love songs like Mawtini and Zahrat al-Mada’in. When they hear the music, they sing along at the top of their voices. For a short while, they forget the fear and the sound of the planes.”
In Gaza radio has proven itself to be a democratic tool that reaches everyone, from those displaced to the camps of the Strip’s far south, to those in the North who have decided to remain. It connects those displaced in tents and makeshift shelters, and even patients in hospitals.
Some families have even kept small recordings of broadcasts as part of a personal archive. Thus, the radio has become a living and breathing national archive, recording the details of life under war, from lists of martyrs to popular songs.
“The Voice of Palestine will remain loud, no matter how intense the war becomes,” says Al-Qudrah. “For us, radio is a lifeline that conveys the suffering and steadfastness of the people of Gaza to the world. Our voice is stronger than war.”
