Through the years that the Palestinian-Israeli conflict has raged, one image has stood out above the rest: Hanzala. The barefoot child, seen always from behind surveying varying levels of chaos and tragedy, has become synonymous with Palestine and the official logo of the Commission for Freedom and Justice Through Humor, an arm of WATCH and an affiliate of UNESCO.

Born in 1937 in Al-Shajara village in Galilee, al-Ali was forced to leave Palestine in 1948 at the age of 11. Along with his family, they settled in Ain-al-Helwe refugee camp in Sidon in Southern Lebanon. It was amidst the abject conditions of the camp that the late Palestinian poet Gassan El-Kanafani discovered al-Ali’s talent in drawing during a visit, and as the artist later noted:

I started to use drawing as a form of political expression while in Lebanese jails. I was detained by the Deuxi’me Bureau as a result of the measures the Bureau were undertaking to contain political activities in the Palestinian camps during the sixties. I drew on the prison walls and subsequently Ghassan Kanafani saw some of those drawings and encouraged me to continue, and eventually published some of my cartoons.

Unable to finish his higher education in Sidon, al-Ali relocated to Kuwait in the early sixties to work at Al-Taliah magazine. Ten years later, he returned to Beirut as a member of the Editorial Board of the prominent Lebanese newspaper, Al-Safir, and once more drew upon his surroundings as inspiration:

There, surrounded by the violence of the army, and finally by the Israeli invasion, I stood facing it all with my pen every day. I never felt fear, failure or despair, and I didn’t surrender. I faced armies with cartoons and drawings of flowers, hope and bullets. Yes, hope is essential, always. My work in Beirut made me once again closer to the refugees in the camps, the poor, and the harassed.

During the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon, al-Ali witnessed the horrific massacre that took place in the Palestinian refugee camp of Sabra and Shatila, in which 2,000 men, women and children lost their lives. The trauma of the experience compelled al-Ali to return to Kuwait, where he worked for both Al-Qabas and Al-Khalij newspapers.

Three years later, and due to political reasons, the artist was expelled from Kuwait and settled in London. Working for  Al-Qabas, his work was published daily in Cairo, Beirut, Kuwait, Tunis, Abu Dhabi, London and Paris in publications ranging from the far Right to the far Left and was among the highest paid cartoonists in the Arab world.

Despite publishing across the political spectrum, al-Ali held no political affiliations and the absence of slogans in his work brought both success and criticism. Nevertheless, his opposition to terrorism and the absence of democracy inspired him to be a true representative of Arab public opinion:

My job I felt was to speak up for those people, my people who are in the camps, in Egypt, in Algeria, the simple Arabs all over the region who have very few outlets to express their points of view. I felt my job was to incite them. The function of a political cartoonist, as I see it, is to provide a new vision.

As is the case with great satirical artists, the spectre of censorship stalked al-Ali through his career. Having antagonized virtually everyone in the Middle East, Arab, and Jew, conservative and radical alike, he was frequently detained by police and continually censored. He received many death threats during his life.

On Wednesday July 22nd, 1987 the threats became a reality as  al-Ali was shot in the head by a lone gunman as he was going to work at the Al-Qabas offices in Chelsea. After five weeks in a coma at St Stephen’s and Charing Cross hospitals in London, al-Ali passed away at 1 a.m. on Saturday 30th August, aged 51.

The great artist and portrayer of the plight of the Palestinian people was gone – but his memory has lived on through the little boy, Hanzala:

This child, as you can see is neither beautiful, spoilt, nor even well-fed. He is barefoot like manychildren in refugee camps. He is actually ugly and no woman would wish to have a child like him. However, those who came to know ‘Hanzala’, as I discovered and later adopted him because he is affectionate, honest, outspoken, and a bum. He is an icon that stands to watch me from slipping. And his hands behind his back are a symbol of rejection of all the present negative tides in our region.

Possibly the greatest testament to al-Ali’s skill and dedication can be found in this prophetic snippet from an earlier interview:

When I was younger I thought I would actually be able to help achieve all our aspirations for independence, unity, justice. Many died for those aspirations and things are only getting worse. That, certainly, can make one; despair. But more than ever, I feel a sense of duty to go on doing what I have to and can do.

Al-Ali was posthumously awarded the annual Golden Pen award of the International Federation of Newspaper Publishers (FIEJ) in 1988. For further information, visit the official website; a few of his iconic images are captured below: