The third intifada is cultural: How Palestinians are resisting through art and digital visibility

The Palestinian struggle for sovereignty has evolved over decades, finding new forms of expression and resistance with each generation.

The first intifada relied mainly on collective, civil, and symbolic action. The second intifada took a different approach, emphasising militarised resistance and media visibility. Today, the emerging “third intifada” is taking shape as a cultural one. Previously tied to political unrest, the term “third intifada” is reinterpreted here as a cultural movement, a form of uprising grounded in art and representation.

Since the establishment of the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) in 1964, art and cultural production have been central to the Palestinian liberation strategy.

Grassroots efforts in refugee camps preserved oral histories and traditions through community gatherings, keeping identity alive despite the challenges of displacement.

Culture has always mattered, but today it has become a strategic tool for recognition and visibility. 

In recent weeks, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu stated, “We have to fight with the weapons that apply to the battlefields in which we’re engaged, and the most important ones are on social media”.

In these words, Netanyahu revealed the Esther Project, an Israeli propaganda campaign designed to distort public discourse through what he termed “fighting back”.

The Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs, through contractors like Bridge Partners, has reportedly paid influencers up to $7,000 per post to publish pro-Israel content on platforms such as TikTok and X, particularly targeting younger audiences and the American public.

Bridge Partners later described these payments as efforts to promote “cultural interchange between the United States and Israel.” This strategy reveals the extent of Israel’s propaganda machinery, whereby it is presented as “cultural exchange,” transforming social media into a weaponised space where truth is distorted, dissent is silenced, and morality is traded for influence.

Why does this matter? Because visibility is power. Controlling social media allows narratives to be shaped algorithmically, reinforcing hegemonic, colonial storylines that have long defined how Palestine is seen and discussed in global discourse.

Narrative power in the digital age 

The shift from television to screens has amplified the stakes of being seen. In the digital-visual era, narrative control is a form of power. A “digital intifada” intertwined with cultural resistance emerges through visual and affective storytelling – film, art, and testimony mobilise empathy and political action, creating shared emotional registers. 

In this war of visibility, truth competes with virality. While governments launch PR campaigns to sanitise occupation, Palestinians document daily life, grief, and resilience with raw honesty. Their stories cut through digital noise precisely because they come from lived experience, not paid influence. 

For Palestinian voices to be truly heard, their narratives must circulate on cultural and artistic platforms, not just news cycles.

Social media, art, and literature allow Palestinians to assert identity, preserve memory, and sustain collective resilience.

Despite Israel’s efforts to systematically erase Palestinian identity through the appropriation, theft, and destruction of cultural heritage, Palestinians have continued to preserve their traditions from language and cuisine to music and attire, transforming art and literature into powerful tools of defiance.

Through grassroots projects, exhibitions, and educational projects, they share their stories across borders, uniting communities and keeping the cause alive, particularly among younger generations in the diaspora.

Initiatives such as Riwaq, a Palestinian architectural conservation centre, restore historic homes and villages, while Qalandiya International, a biennial art festival held across Palestinian cities and the diaspora, unites artists and audiences to keep Palestinian creativity visible.

These kinds of initiatives demonstrate a willingness to preserve traditions and culture, as well as produce new ones. This is not just passive protection and conservation, but an active statement of identity and sovereignty.

Culture is not just art or heritage; it is daily life: how people cook, build, sing, and gather. The Israeli occupation has attempted to strip these practices of meaning, appropriating everything from food to architecture to olive trees and symbols like the kufiyah.

Yet Palestinians continue to assert sovereignty through culture, using semiotics and symbolism to communicate resilience and identity.

Last month, British street artist Banksy’s mural on the Royal Court of Justice in London illustrated this principle: silent but powerful. Though scrubbed off the court wall within hours, it conveyed an enduring message of resistance.