The Language of Liberation

Visiting Noor Community in Palestine

At 27, Amir has seen more war than most people will see in a lifetime. Growing up in the Aida refugee camp in the West Bank — the most tear-gassed place in the world — his childhood consisted of stinging eyes, sniper fire, and stone-throwing. His fiancée, 25-year-old Layla, has suffered no less. Living in the besieged Gaza Strip, she has endured relentless bombardment, suffocating blockades, and the devastating toll of death and displacement brought by Israel’s latest war with Hamas. Since 7 October 2023, Amir and Layla have been physically separated, and even communication between the two has been reduced to fleeting, unreliable moments. That all changed with the arrival of Noor Community, an educational network offering free English lessons to Palestinians across the West Bank and Gaza. Through Noor’s online classes, Amir and Layla have been able to reconnect — regularly talking, laughing, and learning — despite the war that rages on around them.

Last month, I spoke to Gabriel Beckford-Tongs, co-founder of Noor Community and a student at St Andrews. Born and raised in England, Gabriel grew up in an activist family. “Mum was a stalwart of the anti-apartheid movement,” he explains, “and her campaigning instilled in me a sense of social justice from an early age.” Gabriel credits this upbringing — and his Christian faith — with guiding him towards Palestine. “It had always been on my radar,” he reflects, “but it was not until March of last year when the horrific images coming out of Gaza compelled me to act.” 

At the time, Gabriel had recently pivoted from a career in music to focus on English, and was working towards his TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) qualification at the University of St Andrews. “I conducted a skills assessment, and realised I could help by offering English lessons to communities affected by the violence.” 

Dissatisfied with existing projects, many of which he felt lacked focus on local empowerment and risked perpetuating colonial models of aid and education, Gabriel decided to start his own. He reached out to Manar Qarage, co-founder of the Al-Manar Society for Culture and Creativity, a Palestinian organisation based in the Aida refugee camp in Bethlehem. “The early conversations were tough,” Gabriel tells me. “We had no funding, and the infrastructure to support such a project was fragile at best. It felt like a pipe dream.”

“We want to show the world that Palestinian children are not terrorists. We are educated, we have goals, we have dreams.”

But perseverance bore fruit. In September 2024, Gabriel and Manar officially launched Noor Community, a volunteer-led initiative that provides free English-language education to young Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza. What began as a handful of remote classes has since grown into something much larger. Noor initially focused on general English and IELTS preparation, but quickly expanded to include conversational practice and CLIL (Content and Language Integrated Learning) sessions. “It’s organic,” Gabriel says. “We’re constantly getting feedback from our students, and tailoring the programme to meet their needs on the ground. If we’re not listening, we’re not helping.” 

The curriculum itself is grounded in principles of critical decolonial education, and all teachers receive meticulous training in Palestinian history and culture before they start. “Noor is about more than language,” Gabriel explains. “It’s about creating a space where young Palestinians can find their voice. It aims to maximise their agency, and to provide them with the ability to name and critique the systems that oppress them.”

Such ambitious work has not been without its difficulties. Asked to name the greatest challenge facing Noor Community, Gabriel’s answer is immediate: “trauma”. Although Noor provides students with pastoral support, and Al-Manar employs three social workers trained in psychological care, he stresses that it is not enough: “Our students have endured — and continue to endure — huge amounts of trauma.” 

Walking through Aida camp with his colleagues on the ground, this trauma is tangible. The nine-metre-high separation wall partially encircles the camp, looming over Palestinian children as they play in the streets. It bristles with imposing watchtowers and innumerable cameras, in a scene more suited to George Orwell’s 1984 than the birthplace of Jesus. The hum of an Israeli drone overhead, too, is a constant reminder that we are being watched — and that we could be killed at any moment. Houses are pockmarked by bullet holes, and their residents are quick to produce the bullet cartridges, tear-gas canisters, and grenade casings fired during military raids on the camp. 

Conditions have only worsened since the start of the war. Initiatives like Noor have had their activities sharply curtailed, either directly by Israeli authorities or indirectly due to the deteriorating economic situation. Checkpoints, long used as a tool to constrain Palestinian’s daily lives, have multiplied and tightened, further choking freedom of movement. I experienced this personally, spending nearly three hours under the sweltering sun at the Container — an infamous internal checkpoint that straddles the only road linking the north of the West Bank with the south. Likewise, large-scale incursions into cities like Jenin and Tulkarm have intensified, forcing some of Noor Community’s own students to drop out of the programme. 

Nevertheless, Gabriel still has hope. To date, Noor Community has taught over 100 students across the West Bank and Gaza, and is currently onboarding 60 more, all without institutional funding or corporate backing. He outlines their role in training Palestinian educators, and his aspiration of eventually shifting to a consulting role as Noor becomes entirely Palestinian-run and owned. Even under the current conditions, he has faith that this is possible: “The resilience of the Palestinians inspires and empowers us. Our students move heaven and earth to attend classes, and our local staff to deliver them, even when under outright siege.” Referring to the Palestinian concept of sumud, or steadfastness, he says, “Despite fear, despite terror, despite destruction, they have an inner resolve that bears them through.” Manar, too, echoes this sentiment. Much of her team grew up in Aida camp themselves, and as I speak to her at Al-Manar’s head office in Bethlehem, she outlines their desire to change the image of Palestinian refugees around the world: “We want to show the world that Palestinian children are not terrorists. We are educated, we have goals, we have dreams.”

At the end of our conversation, I ask Gabriel if he has a message for students at St Andrews who are advocating for Palestine. “We are at an inflection point in history,” he replies, “and it’s our responsibility to bear the torch.” He pauses, then adds softly, “When Amir and Layla see each other’s faces on the screen, even for just a few minutes, it’s a kind of freedom no checkpoint can take away. That’s what we’re fighting for — not just survival, but freedom, dignity, and the right to dream.”

Photograph by Manraj Gill