The Samud Flotilla consists of boats from 47 countries and is a symbol of steadfastness against Israel’s occupation and the genocide in Gaza. Photo: Tan Safi/Freedom Flotilla Coalition
In the Tunisian port of Sidi Bou Said, on 9 September 2025, thousands gathered to witness an extraordinary moment. The Samud Flotilla, made up of boats from more than 47 countries, prepared to set sail in an audacious attempt to break the siege of Gaza.
The flotilla sails under the banner of sumud, the Arabic word for steadfastness. It is a concept that has defined Palestinian resistance across decades of occupation and, now, in the face of genocide. Academic and one-time activist at the former University of Durban-Westville, Fathima Hendricks, has described sumud as both individual and collective, but also as a term that has too often been reduced to a hollow description of “resilience.” For her, the global mobilisation is a moment when people are beginning to learn the deeper meaning of sumud and the selfless sacrifices it requires. She points to the costs borne by many solidarity activists — job losses, cancellations, blacklisting, arrests — but insists that all of this pales before the moral imperative that the genocide must end.
The flotilla’s largest ships were hit by strikes by incendiary drones on two consecutive nights, on 9 and 10 September. Fires broke out. David Adler, who, along with Varsha Gandikota-Nellutla, coordinates the Progressive International, a vast network of progressive movements from around the world, was in Tunis and told me of the immense public support: thousands of Tunisians packed the harbour to see off the mission, cheering delegations that had come together in a truly global act of solidarity. The message from Tunis was, in Adler’s words, “All eyes on Gaza.”
The devastation in Gaza has generated a spiralling international crisis that has been felt in many countries. A number of other countries have been invaded and bombed. Around the world there has also been severe oppression of people who are opposed to the genocide. In recent days Israel carried out an airstrike in Doha that killed six people, including a Qatari security official, during ceasefire talks. The strike was a violation of Qatari sovereignty, and a reminder that the war in Gaza is destabilising the broader region. In the United Kingdom, the government has proscribed the group Palestine Action under terrorism legislation. More than 400 people have already been arrested for defying the ban.
At the same time, there are growing cracks in what was once impregnable Western support for Israel. As the tide begins to turn against Israel, Spain’s move is a welcome example of a European government showing the kind of political will that the moment demands. On 8 September, Spain announced a series of sweeping measures aimed at ending the genocide in Gaza: a full arms embargo on Israel, the closure of its airspace to military-linked flights, a ban on ships carrying fuel for Israeli forces, and prohibitions on settlement goods and on the entry of Israeli officials implicated in atrocities.
Even in today’s digital economy, ports remain critical nodes in the circulation of goods. There is a long history of ports being key nodes in moments of radical rupture. As Peter Linebaugh and Marcus Rediker show in their brilliant history of the Atlantic working poor — triangulated across the Caribbean, Europe and North America in the 17th and 18th centuries — dockside encounters spread struggles from port to port.
The radical possibilities of the port as a site of resistance are still alive today. In Piraeus, dockworkers refused to unload the Ever Golden when it arrived with military-grade steel bound for Israel. In Fos-Marseille, CGT dockworkers refused to load arms components for the Israeli military. In Italy, unions in Genoa and La Spezia also blocked containers carrying arms, forcing diversions.
Here at home we remember 2008, when Durban dockworkers refused to unload the Chinese freighter An Yue Jiang, which was carrying arms for Robert Mugabe’s brutal regime in Zimbabwe. The Durban dockworkers contacted their comrades in Luanda and Walvis Bay, who also refused to offload the cargo, forcing the ship to return to China.
Unfortunately, today dockworkers in Richards Bay continue to load coal onto ships headed for Israel. Numsa, the country’s largest trade union, has announced that its members will not handle any cargo to or from Israel. But for this to have force, other unions need to follow suit and there must be a clear, united commitment to disrupt trade that sustains the genocide. It is particularly important that labour federation Cosatu follows Numsa’s lead; pressure needs to be brought to bear on the federation’s leadership to adopt a principled position on this matter.
In many countries growing mass mobilisations are adding pressure to stop the genocide. In Belgium, about 110,000 people marched in Brussels in early September under the banner “Red Line for Gaza,” demanding urgent action from the European Union. In Australia about 350,000 people joined protests across some 40 cities and towns in late August, including about 100,000 in Melbourne
It is unfortunate that we have not seen large mobilisations in support of Palestine recently in South Africa. It has been quite some time since there was a big march in Cape Town. Abahlali baseMjondolo’s Unfreedom Day march in Durban, which was focused on Palestine solidarity, was significant, but we are not seeing the same level of mobilisation here as in some other countries. Johannesburg has yet to see a march of any significant scale. This points to serious weaknesses in the solidarity movements in South Africa.
But, at the level of the state, South Africa has courageously shown moral leadership. It was the first country to bring Israel before the International Court of Justice on charges of genocide, and has also helped to initiate the Hague Group, a coalition of states committed to coordinating international legal and political strategies against Israel’s impunity. Despite the scurrilously poor governance and horrific levels of corruption and violence at home, we were able to rediscover our moral centre on the question of Palestine.
The South African left is marked by intense divisions, but on Palestine there has been remarkable unity. Organisations and intellectuals across the spectrum of the left have all supported the government’s position.
The Samud Flotilla is, as Adler explained to me, one tactic among many: not large enough to resolve a humanitarian catastrophe, but powerful in symbolism and intent. It makes visible the failure of states to act, and the determination of people to step into that void.
The mission is fraught with risk. It is almost certain that the ships will be intercepted, their passengers arrested and their supplies confiscated. Yet even before it sails, the flotilla has become a beautiful and inspiring symbol of human solidarity without borders.
Dr Imraan Buccus is senior research fellow at ASRi and the University of the Free State.