Nnamdi Moeteke is a Clinical Assistant Professor of Community and Public Health and Interim Director of Undergraduate Public Health Programmes at the Idaho State University in the United States of America. He speaks to GODFREY GEORGE and OGHENOVO EGODO-MICHAEL about his career and other issues you began your career as a medical doctor in Nigeria. What drew you to medicine in the first place, and what was that early journey like for you as a young doctor fresh out of the University of Nigeria? When I was eight years old, I wanted to become a lawyer because of a TV series I used to watch at that time. I cannot recall the programme’s name, but the main character was a brilliant investigative lawyer who did a great job of solving mysteries and helping innocent people get acquitted. So, I wanted to be like him. However, during my first few years in secondary school, I realised that I had a much greater aptitude for science subjects. I was better at Biology than Further Mathematics, so I opted for Medicine, and it was afterwards that I understood the depth of what I had signed up for. So, rather than having a prior purpose, I would say studying medicine in the atmosphere provided by the University of Nigeria helped me discover the meaning of life and find my purpose. I left medical school with a profound awareness of a calling to impact lives beyond dealing with individual patients in a clinic. I was excited to be posted to a rural area— Isin LGA of Kwara State— to work as a medical officer for my National Youth Service Corps scheme, and began thinking of ways to leave a positive mark on the area. I planned and implemented health and other development projects and got a state award. Your career has spanned clinical practice, community medicine, global health research, and now academia. What personal or professional turning point inspired your transition from the hospital ward to the classroom? I was drawn to public health early in my medical training. After my internship, national youth service, and a brief stint in private practice, I went for a residency in community medicine. In addition to specialised in-training practice, residency also prepares one for academia. Most programmes are in teaching hospitals where residents work under hospital consultants who double as university faculty members. Part of the responsibilities of resident doctors is supporting their consultants in training medical students. As a resident in the Department of Community Medicine at the Delta State University Teaching Hospital, my trainers helped me discover my flair for transferring knowledge and skills, and I started to play an important role in the department, teaching public health and community medicine to medical students of the Delta State University. By the time I became a senior resident, I was teaching junior residents. During that time, I also executed a project that included training primary care doctors in Delta State in tobacco cessation interventions and treatment of tobacco dependence, while facilitating the adoption of treatment protocols in health facilities. When I got the opportunity to work as a faculty member at Idaho State University and coordinate a project to build the capacity of Idaho’s workforce to respond to infectious diseases, it was not at odds with my interests, and what I was already doing. Take us through your journey of becoming a Clinical Assistant Professor and Interim Director at Idaho State University, and what does a typical day in your role look like? When I decided to move to the US, I started searching for vacancies on social media platforms, such as Indeed and LinkedIn. One of them was quite striking, and I remember telling the hiring team at Idaho State University how I was a good fit for the job during the interview. The position was for a Visiting Assistant Professor. The primary responsibility was to oversee the Idaho Collaborative for Infectious Disease Prevention— a subcontracted project funded by the CDC through the Idaho Department of Health and Welfare— in developing and implementing an interdisciplinary curriculum geared toward building the capacity of Idaho’s workforce to respond to infectious diseases, especially in underserved communities. It was supposed to be for one year, with the possibility of an extension for another year. Against all odds, I got the job and moved to the US in January 2023. I coordinated infectious diseases curriculum mapping across colleges at ISU, and the development of 10 online modules currently used by students and practitioners across the state. I helped to build strong collaborative relationships with internal and external partners at ISU, IDHW, the seven public health districts in the state, and healthcare organisations. I was a little involved in teaching and academic advising in the MPH programme and co-supervised an MPH thesis. Before the second year ran out, I was offered the position of Clinical Assistant Professor and Interim Director of the undergraduate programmes, to be added to my role as Project Coordinator of ICIDP. Depending on my schedule for the day, my time is spent on communications, carrying out my academic advising and teaching responsibilities (including preparing the lectures and grading student assignments). You are a co-founder of Medix Frontiers, a non-profit promoting public health. What inspired this initiative, and what impact has it had since its formation in 2005? Two bosom friends— Dr Charles Chima and Dr Sebastian Ilomuanya— and I founded it toward the end of our third year in medical school, as a health promotion non-profit organisation engaged in working with youths and providing free health services in rural communities in Enugu State. It was the result of a combination of youthful passion and a sincere zeal for service. My co-founders and I were conscious that, as future doctors, we had a special set of skills that we could use to enhance the quality of life of our fellow citizens. We were convinced that this privilege cames with a responsibility to society that did not have to wait till we graduated, and recognised that similar aspirations were held by many of our peers but could not bloom due to the lack of a suitable platform. We felt a pressing need to birth an organisation that could steer those youthful energies towards improving public health through volunteer work. We wanted an organisation that would address local health needs, especially among the youth and vulnerable populations, by challenging conventional approaches and adopting evidence-based, youth-friendly, efficient methods. At the outset, we were concerned about the escalating crisis of the HIV pandemic and its implications for future generations in sub-Saharan Africa. So, among other goals, fighting the spread of HIV, which was a bigger public health threat at the time, was a focal point of our efforts. Over the years, the organisation has built a strong community of more than 800 volunteers from more than 20 classes of the University of Nigeria College of Medicine who share our vision of service to society and have received training to improve their capacity to make meaningful contributions to society as doctors. With outreach to rural communities, secondary schools, and university campuses every year, the organisation has provided free medical services and health education to tens of thousands of individuals in Enugu State. You have been part of important public health activities in Nigeria, including responding to the COVID-19 pandemic and Ebola. What were the most challenging moments in those roles, and how did they shape your current outlook on health systems? Like every public health emergency, the Ebola epidemic and COVID-19 pandemic were stress tests for leadership, coordination, and the capacity of a system to respond under pressure. One of the earliest and most defining challenges was confronting resource scarcity. From personal protective equipment to testing infrastructure and trained personnel, there was often a need to make high-stakes decisions with limited tools. These logistical constraints, which affected how quickly a patient could be isolated or a health worker on the front line could be protected, had far-reaching consequences. Equally challenging was the battle against misinformation and distrust. One of the takeaways from those times was that effective public health is not just about science but also about establishing resilient systems and infrastructure, as well as building public trust. The tendency for bureaucracy to slow the momentum of public health response emphasised the importance of building structures that can outlast emergencies. Perhaps most significantly, I saw the emotional toll on our health workforce. My involvement in responding to the pandemic helped me understand better that leading teams through fear, fatigue, and grief called for a leadership style rooted in compassion, transparency, and an unwavering commitment to their well-being. Many consider a career in Nigeria’s healthcare system to be quite demanding. What made you stay for over a decade, and what eventually pushed you to move abroad? With all its challenges and downsides, I have always wanted to give back to the Nigerian system, which made me who I am today. With all I have been blessed with, I feel obliged to contribute towards improving the system. However, one gets to a point where the system limits further growth. I also realised that to be a force for the scale of change in Nigeria that I dreamt of, I needed some form of exposure and capacity at a level that being in Nigeria would not afford. I am grateful for the years of first-hand experience with the health system challenges, which is a vital part of the toolkit for any leader who hopes to make a difference. You earned a Commonwealth Master’s Scholarship to study Public Health at the University of Liverpool. Can you walk us through how that opportunity came about and what it meant to you at that point in your career? Having realised my passion for public health, by the time I was leaving medical school, I wanted an international degree that would build my capacity to be a global expert in the field. Of course, neither I nor my parents could afford it. For many years, I was admitted to schools in the United Kingdom, but could not secure funding. Then one day, someone shared the link to the Commonwealth Scholarship application in the WhatsApp group of my class in medical school. I quickly opened it and researched more about it. I learnt that Commonwealth scholarships are awarded to talented individuals with the potential to make a positive impact on the global stage. The selection criteria include academic merit and potential impact on the development of the applicant’s country. I was not too confident, but I believed that the work I had done from medical school through national youth service and residency gave me a chance of winning it. The day I received the award email remains one of my happiest. I firmly believe in divine intervention, but at the same time, as the Roman philosopher Seneca noted, “Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity,” and as Louis Pasteur said, “Chance only favours the mind which is prepared.” The award reinforced my belief that prayer and preparation go hand-in-hand in the journey to success. What was your time as a Visiting Scholar at Harvard Medical School like and what lessons did you carry with you from that experience? The visiting scholar programme supports scholars pursuing research on inspiring and training future leaders to promote universal health coverage and primary healthcare, training the future primary healthcare workforce, and/or scaling innovative modes of primary healthcare delivery. I was thrilled about the international recognition of my expertise and passion for primary healthcare and community health. It was a reminder that we can all achieve great things and gain global attention wherever we find ourselves. The purpose of the appointment was to conduct research, promote and advance my work, and engage with the Harvard Medical School community through mentorship of students and trainees, sharing my expertise and knowledge, and exploring opportunities for collaboration with the HMS faculty. It was an incredibly enriching experience, both academically and personally. It was a humbling yet inspiring journey to interact with global experts in the field and to witness the dedication to research, innovation, and advancement of primary care at such a high level. I was motivated to continue making an impact in the field. What were the most significant challenges you faced moving from Nigeria to the United States? One of the biggest challenges for me was the winter weather. Arriving from Nigeria’s tropical climate required a great deal of adaptation to survive the frigidity of Idaho, one of the snowiest and coldest states in the US. The temperature dropped to as low as -22°C in my first few weeks there. It was important to learn how to constantly dress in multiple layers of thick clothing, plan activities around the weather, drive in snow, and push myself to stay motivated and healthy during winter. I have had to adjust to the differences in communication styles, too. Though we speak the same language, there are differences in expressions, expectations, or tone that could make one misunderstood. Of course, my Nigerian accent was sometimes a barrier, and there were occasions when I had to say something a second time for the listener to understand me. You have earned many recognitions, from national and international scholarships to the recent National Institute of Professional Engineers and Scientists Award. Which award has meant the most to you and why? As with the different projects I have executed, each award I have received has held a special meaning at various points in my journey, and every single one of them has helped me move forward. However, the Commonwealth Scholarship Award in 2017 and the 2025 NIPES Award are noteworthy. Commonwealth Scholarships are traditionally awarded to talented individuals with the potential to make a positive impact on the global stage. The NIPES Young Scientist award category acknowledges an emerging scientist whose work has had a measurable impact on their field. It was not just about the recognition, but when they came. The master’s scholarship to study at the University of Liverpool came after seven years of continuous admission to universities in the United Kingdom and not being able to secure the needed funding every year. I received the NIPES award after one of the most intense periods of my career, moving to a foreign country to coordinate an important public health effort. These awards felt like an affirmation of technical competence, resilience, and the ability to navigate uncertainty. Your journey reflects a deep commitment to underserved populations. What does health equity mean to you? Health equity is the state in which everyone has a fair and just opportunity to attain the highest level of health. The enjoyment of the highest attainable standard of health is one of the fundamental rights of every human being. This idea was first articulated in the 1946 constitution of the World Health Organisation and reinforced in the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights of the United Nations and many other treaties over the years. For me, it is heartbreaking that, after many decades of this recognition of the right to health, a large proportion of Nigerians and many of the world’s populations do not have access to even the minimum standards for health. I have always acted in support of universal health coverage—the idea that everyone, everywhere, should have access to quality, affordable health care. As someone who has worked in both Nigeria and the US, what would you say is the biggest difference in how public health is taught, practised, or prioritised in both places? The biggest difference between public health in Nigeria and the US lies in the structure and resourcing of the systems. In the US, public health tends to be more data-driven and preventive, with substantial investments in infrastructure, surveillance systems, and health education. Public health training in the US is more heavily research and data-driven, emphasising policy and systems thinking. Training programmes often integrate case studies from global contexts, promote inter-professional education, and give students more access to technological tools. The academic approach is usually multidisciplinary and emphasises research, policy, and health equity. There is also a stronger integration between academia and practice through internships, fellowships, and public-private partnerships. In Nigeria, public health education focuses on applied, community-based strategies as demanded by practical realities. There is more emphasis on infectious disease control, and maternal and child health, often with fewer resources and less technology integration. Teaching may be more theory-based with fewer practical opportunities. The practice in the US is embedded within a better-funded infrastructure, including the CDC, NIH, state and local health departments, with a strong regulatory and policy framework. It is a more proactive system in terms of surveillance and preventive interventions, and tries to create healthier environments from the bottom to the top, so health problems do not arise in the first place. How do you balance your roles as a mentor, educator, researcher, and practitioner; and what guiding philosophy keeps you grounded through it all? My guiding principle is that every person can strive for human and supernatural perfection in their ordinary lives and work, seeing all their daily activities as an opportunity to serve God and their fellow men. As a Christian, I strive to integrate my faith into all aspects of my life, including work and relationships. I believe that work is not just a means of livelihood, but also a path to holiness through offering our efforts to God and having a genuine desire to better the lives of others, materially and spiritually. For me, service to God and humanity is the foundation of everything I do. My love for God should not just sit in my heart; I strive to reflect it in my service to other people.

Israel has dehumanised Palestinians for decades, eventually leading to the current Gaza genocide, analysts say. By Simon Speakman Cordall Share Save Committing a genocide – as a United Nations commission has found Israel has done in Gaza – requires one force to attempt to exterminate another people. But to commit that level of violence, it is necessary to see those being killed as not the same as you, as below human. The population needs to be dehumanised. That’s the conclusion reached by Navi Pillay, the head of the UN commission responsible for saying that Israel is committing a genocide, joining a growing list of bodies that have come to the same conclusion. “When I look at the facts in the Rwandan genocide, it’s very, very similar to this. You dehumanise your victims. They’re animals, and so therefore, without conscience, you can kill them,” said Pillay, a former International Criminal Court judge. For many observers within Israel, that process of dehumanisation –  where the value of Palestinian life is negligible –  didn’t begin with Israel’s war on Gaza, but reaches back throughout the country’s short history and continues to inform the attitude of its public and politicians today. Israel is currently pummelling Gaza City, knowing that tens of thousands of Palestinian civilians remain there, in a region where famine has been declared. The Israeli objective appears to be to force civilians to leave so that the city – once the hub of Palestinian life in Gaza – can be destroyed, making it easier to fight Hamas, and showcasing some sort of victory to the Israeli public. The suffering of the people of Gaza City is rarely considered in public statements from Israeli officials. Bombing them to force them to move has become normalised, and even celebrated. Israel’s Defence Minister Israel Katz has openly bragged that “Gaza is burning” – Gaza City, the place described by the UN Children’s Fund (UNICEF) as “the last refuge for families in the northern Gaza Strip”. However, the Israeli public’s anguish over the death toll in Gaza and its army’s actions has remained negligible. Anti-government demonstrations have focused almost exclusively on calling for a deal to secure the return of the remaining Israeli captives held in Gaza, rather than demanding a halt to the slaughter – more than 64,900 Palestinians killed – carried out in the public’s name. A poll released in mid-August by the Israeli research group the aChord Center found that 76 percent of Jewish Israelis surveyed either fully or partially agreed with the suggestion that, among what remained of Gaza’s prewar population of 2.2 million, none were innocent. “Genocide does not just happen,” Orly Noy, journalist and editor of the Israeli Hebrew-language magazine Local Call, told Al Jazeera. “A society does not just become genocidal overnight. The conditions have to be in place before that. “It’s systematic,” she said. The shock and fury with which Israel continues to view the Hamas-led attack of October 7, 2023 – in which 1,139 people were killed – is borne of the ignorance of Palestinian lives and the daily experience of living under occupation, said Yair Dvir, spokesperson for the Israeli human rights organisation B’Tselem. The attack, he told Al Jazeera, seemed to many to come from “nowhere and without any apparent provocation. Israel was just attacked by these ‘demons’”. “People knew nothing of the decades of occupation that had come before it,” he said. In late July, B’Tselem, along with Physicians for Human Rights-Israel, concluded that Israel’s war on Gaza amounted to genocide. In its report, B’Tselem documented Israeli violations against Palestinians from the Nakba, the 1948 ethnic cleansing of Palestine by Zionist militias, to make way for the declaration of the state of Israel to the present. Throughout, the organisation described decades of policy intended solely “to cement the supremacy of the Jewish group across the entire territory under Israeli control”. “You can go years without even meeting a Palestinian. We have separate education systems,” Dvir continued. “We’re not taught their language, their culture or anything about their history. Most people don’t even know about the Nakba.” “In Zionism and the education system… it’s always the ‘other’. They’re a threat,” he said. “We even refer to them as ‘Arab Israelis’, and when they reply with: ‘No, we’re Palestinians,’ it’s as if they’ve said something shocking … It’s like they’ve just said they support Hamas. We don’t even allow their identity,” Dvir continued. “People often talk about the dehumanisation of Palestinians when they’re compared to animals, but that’s just the furthest reaches.” “It’s not just that Palestinians are the enemy; they’re viewed exclusively through a colonial gaze,” Noy said. “They’re the natives, to be regarded with contempt. They’re somehow worthless and inferior by birth.” “This is a notion that is fundamental to Israeli society; this sense that Palestinian lives are worth less,” Noy said. As early as 1967, Israeli officials, including David Hacohen, who was then the ambassador to Burma (Myanmar), were documented denying that Palestinians were even human. By 1985, an analysis of hundreds of Hebrew children’s books revealed dozens depicting Palestinians as “war lovers, devious monsters, bloodthirsty dogs, preying wolves, or vipers”. Two decades later, research showed that one in 10 Israeli schoolchildren, when asked to draw Palestinians, portrayed them as animals – the same generation that now forms part of the army in Gaza. The instinct to dehumanise Palestinians to the point where their mass killing is acceptable had always been present among Israel’s hardline religious right, Israeli analyst Nimrod Flaschenberg said from Berlin. However, it was the 2005 withdrawal of the settlements from Gaza that mobilised them to act in response to what they saw as the creeping liberalism overtaking Israeli society. Undertaking the self-described “march through the institutions”, Flaschenberg described the deliberate campaign of settler groups and their allies on the religious right to take control of the institutions governing Israeli life, such as the country’s bureaucratic, educational, media and even military institutions, to ensure that their views became the norm. “That belief system continues today,“ Flaschenberg said. “The difference between fascists, like [hard right National Security Minister Itamar] Ben-Gvir and those who imagine themselves as coming from the liberal centre, is very thin,” said Israeli sociologist Yehouda Shenhav-Shahrabani. He went on to refer to the recent example of comments by Israel’s former head of intelligence, Aharon Haliva, a man Shenhav-Shahrabani said most Israelis would regard as a liberal, but who was nevertheless recorded saying that 50 Palestinians must be killed for every Israeli life lost on October 7, and “it does not matter now if they are children”. “They need a Nakba every now and then, and then to feel the price,” he added. Israelis’ attitude towards Palestinians runs deep, Shenhav-Shahrabani said, describing a process that reached back beyond the creation of the Israeli state to early British descriptions of Palestine as a “land without a people”, casting the region’s inhabitants as some kind of shiftless mass with no traditional political centre that could be negotiated with. That attitude towards Palestinians – as an entity disconnected from either land or home – was adopted by Israel and carries through to current discussions taking place within Israel as to how both Gaza and, ultimately, the occupied West Bank, could be ethnically cleansed. “The notion that the Palestinian presence was temporary has always been there, it’s ‘telos’ [inevitable],” Shenhav-Shahrabani said. “People asking why didn’t they ‘finish the job’ in [19]48 or [19]67 [in the war that led to the present-day occupation of Palestinian territory] is commonplace,” he said. “People see Palestinians being displaced as inevitable. We talk about the Nakba as an event, but it’s a process. It’s a continuous event. It’s happening now in the West Bank and in Gaza.” Follow Al Jazeera English:...

Israel has dehumanised Palestinians for decades, eventually leading to the current Gaza genocide, analysts say. By Simon Speakman Cordall Share Save Committing a genocide – as a United Nations commission has found Israel has done in Gaza – requires one force to attempt to exterminate another people. But to commit that level of violence, it is necessary to see those being killed as not the same as you, as below human. The population needs to be dehumanised. That’s the conclusion reached by Navi Pillay, the head of the UN commission responsible for saying that Israel is committing a genocide, joining a growing list of bodies that have come to the same conclusion. “When I look at the facts in the Rwandan genocide, it’s very, very similar to this. You dehumanise your victims. They’re animals, and so therefore, without conscience, you can kill them,” said Pillay, a former International Criminal Court judge. For many observers within Israel, that process of dehumanisation –  where the value of Palestinian life is negligible –  didn’t begin with Israel’s war on Gaza, but reaches back throughout the country’s short history and continues to inform the attitude of its public and politicians today. Israel is currently pummelling Gaza City, knowing that tens of thousands of Palestinian civilians remain there, in a region where famine has been declared. The Israeli objective appears to be to force civilians to leave so that the city – once the hub of Palestinian life in Gaza – can be destroyed, making it easier to fight Hamas, and showcasing some sort of victory to the Israeli public. The suffering of the people of Gaza City is rarely considered in public statements from Israeli officials. Bombing them to force them to move has become normalised, and even celebrated. Israel’s Defence Minister Israel Katz has openly bragged that “Gaza is burning” – Gaza City, the place described by the UN Children’s Fund (UNICEF) as “the last refuge for families in the northern Gaza Strip”. However, the Israeli public’s anguish over the death toll in Gaza and its army’s actions has remained negligible. Anti-government demonstrations have focused almost exclusively on calling for a deal to secure the return of the remaining Israeli captives held in Gaza, rather than demanding a halt to the slaughter – more than 64,900 Palestinians killed – carried out in the public’s name. A poll released in mid-August by the Israeli research group the aChord Center found that 76 percent of Jewish Israelis surveyed either fully or partially agreed with the suggestion that, among what remained of Gaza’s prewar population of 2.2 million, none were innocent. “Genocide does not just happen,” Orly Noy, journalist and editor of the Israeli Hebrew-language magazine Local Call, told Al Jazeera. “A society does not just become genocidal overnight. The conditions have to be in place before that. “It’s systematic,” she said. The shock and fury with which Israel continues to view the Hamas-led attack of October 7, 2023 – in which 1,139 people were killed – is borne of the ignorance of Palestinian lives and the daily experience of living under occupation, said Yair Dvir, spokesperson for the Israeli human rights organisation B’Tselem. The attack, he told Al Jazeera, seemed to many to come from “nowhere and without any apparent provocation. Israel was just attacked by these ‘demons’”. “People knew nothing of the decades of occupation that had come before it,” he said. In late July, B’Tselem, along with Physicians for Human Rights-Israel, concluded that Israel’s war on Gaza amounted to genocide. In its report, B’Tselem documented Israeli violations against Palestinians from the Nakba, the 1948 ethnic cleansing of Palestine by Zionist militias, to make way for the declaration of the state of Israel to the present. Throughout, the organisation described decades of policy intended solely “to cement the supremacy of the Jewish group across the entire territory under Israeli control”. “You can go years without even meeting a Palestinian. We have separate education systems,” Dvir continued. “We’re not taught their language, their culture or anything about their history. Most people don’t even know about the Nakba.” “In Zionism and the education system… it’s always the ‘other’. They’re a threat,” he said. “We even refer to them as ‘Arab Israelis’, and when they reply with: ‘No, we’re Palestinians,’ it’s as if they’ve said something shocking … It’s like they’ve just said they support Hamas. We don’t even allow their identity,” Dvir continued. “People often talk about the dehumanisation of Palestinians when they’re compared to animals, but that’s just the furthest reaches.” “It’s not just that Palestinians are the enemy; they’re viewed exclusively through a colonial gaze,” Noy said. “They’re the natives, to be regarded with contempt. They’re somehow worthless and inferior by birth.” “This is a notion that is fundamental to Israeli society; this sense that Palestinian lives are worth less,” Noy said. As early as 1967, Israeli officials, including David Hacohen, who was then the ambassador to Burma (Myanmar), were documented denying that Palestinians were even human. By 1985, an analysis of hundreds of Hebrew children’s books revealed dozens depicting Palestinians as “war lovers, devious monsters, bloodthirsty dogs, preying wolves, or vipers”. Two decades later, research showed that one in 10 Israeli schoolchildren, when asked to draw Palestinians, portrayed them as animals – the same generation that now forms part of the army in Gaza. The instinct to dehumanise Palestinians to the point where their mass killing is acceptable had always been present among Israel’s hardline religious right, Israeli analyst Nimrod Flaschenberg said from Berlin. However, it was the 2005 withdrawal of the settlements from Gaza that mobilised them to act in response to what they saw as the creeping liberalism overtaking Israeli society. Undertaking the self-described “march through the institutions”, Flaschenberg described the deliberate campaign of settler groups and their allies on the religious right to take control of the institutions governing Israeli life, such as the country’s bureaucratic, educational, media and even military institutions, to ensure that their views became the norm. “That belief system continues today,“ Flaschenberg said. “The difference between fascists, like [hard right National Security Minister Itamar] Ben-Gvir and those who imagine themselves as coming from the liberal centre, is very thin,” said Israeli sociologist Yehouda Shenhav-Shahrabani. He went on to refer to the recent example of comments by Israel’s former head of intelligence, Aharon Haliva, a man Shenhav-Shahrabani said most Israelis would regard as a liberal, but who was nevertheless recorded saying that 50 Palestinians must be killed for every Israeli life lost on October 7, and “it does not matter now if they are children”. “They need a Nakba every now and then, and then to feel the price,” he added. Israelis’ attitude towards Palestinians runs deep, Shenhav-Shahrabani said, describing a process that reached back beyond the creation of the Israeli state to early British descriptions of Palestine as a “land without a people”, casting the region’s inhabitants as some kind of shiftless mass with no traditional political centre that could be negotiated with. That attitude towards Palestinians – as an entity disconnected from either land or home – was adopted by Israel and carries through to current discussions taking place within Israel as to how both Gaza and, ultimately, the occupied West Bank, could be ethnically cleansed. “The notion that the Palestinian presence was temporary has always been there, it’s ‘telos’ [inevitable],” Shenhav-Shahrabani said. “People asking why didn’t they ‘finish the job’ in [19]48 or [19]67 [in the war that led to the present-day occupation of Palestinian territory] is commonplace,” he said. “People see Palestinians being displaced as inevitable. We talk about the Nakba as an event, but it’s a process. It’s a continuous event. It’s happening now in the West Bank and in Gaza.” Follow Al Jazeera English:...

A mathematics educator and mathematics education doctoral student at Purdue University, United States of America, Humphrey Ochulor, tells FAITH AJAYI about his passion for mathematics and his recent invention that helps students solve algebra with ease can you take us back to your early years—what sparked your interest in mathematics and education, especially right after secondary school? Growing up, Mathematics wasn’t my best subject. In fact, I preferred Chemistry. However, after secondary school, I enrolled in a GCE and JAMB preparatory programme at South Land Science School, Aba, Abia State, where I was taught Mathematics and other science subjects by the school’s proprietor, Mr Holyver Ekeke. I spent a few months there, and my interest in mathematics evolved as I observed how effortlessly he taught the subject. Inspired by his teaching style, I started paying close attention. I remember a particular day after a lesson on solving quadratic equations using the completing-the-square method. I approached him privately to teach me again. I listened intently, though I didn’t grasp everything at once. When I got home, I dropped my bag and immediately began working through the problem—and finally got it right, just by following the simple steps he had demonstrated. That moment ignited my love for mathematics. I began arriving early at the centre just so I could help teach fellow students before lessons began. With this growing knowledge and passion, I started teaching mathematics in private secondary schools and informal settings, encouraging students not to fear the subject but see it as something they could master. Why did you choose Mathematics Education as your course of study, and how did your time at Alvan Ikoku and Enugu State University shape your teaching philosophy? Before I started my National Certificate in Education at what is now Alvan Ikoku Federal University of Education in Owerri, Imo State, I had registered for JAMB to study Biochemistry at the university level. However, due to unforeseen circumstances, I couldn’t sit for the exam. Having already developed a deep interest in mathematics through my teaching experiences, I decided to pursue formal training to improve my competence. I was admitted to study Mathematics and Computer Science at Alvan Ikoku. Later, I continued to Enugu State University of Science and Technology for further studies. Through both institutions, I developed key teaching skills, including lesson planning, curriculum design, use of instructional materials, classroom management, and problem-solving techniques. These experiences helped me refine my teaching philosophy. I began to see mathematics not just as a subject, but as a lifelong calling. Having taught at various levels— from secondary schools to tertiary institutions—what patterns have you noticed in how students interact with algebra? From secondary schools to tertiary institutions, and even during the COVID-19 era when my wife and I launched an online platform to teach Mathematics and English, I observed a clear pattern: students find arithmetic more relatable because it mirrors everyday tasks. But algebra, with its use of letters and symbols, often feels abstract and intimidating. Many students suffer from what I call “math phobia,” particularly when introduced to algebra. Even though I employed techniques such as play-way methods, problem-solving strategies, and inductive teaching (from simple to complex), students still struggled to maintain interest in algebraic concepts. Tell us how the idea for the analogue algebra games came to you. The idea came during my Master’s degree in Mathematics Education at Enugu State University of Science and Technology. I conducted a curriculum review for my first research project and discovered that the way algebra is taught does not encourage hands-on learning. This gap leads to disinterest and poor performance. This concern is supported by Prof Stephen Onah, former Director of Nigeria’s National Mathematical Centre, who lamented in 2018 that only 17 per cent of students passed Mathematics and English in WAEC. His call for urgent action mirrored what I saw in my students. Motivated to find a solution, I delved into publications by the Mathematical Association of Nigeria and the National Mathematical Centre. Many of them recommended the use of games to enhance student engagement. Inspired by that, I began designing four algebra games aimed at helping students learn algebra more enjoyably and effectively. How did you conceptualise and design each of the four games? The Four Algebraic Games were designed specifically to motivate students to solve problems in four major aspects of algebraic expressions: expansion of algebraic expressions of the form a(b+c), expansion of expressions of the form (a+b)(c+d), factorisation of algebraic expressions, and simplification of algebraic expressions. For the expansion of algebraic expressions of the form a(b+c), I designed the Algebra Evaluation Dart Game. To expand algebraic expressions of the form (a+b)(c+d), I designed the Algebra Tic-tacmatics Game; and to teach factorisation of algebraic expressions, I designed the Algebra Factorisation Card Game. To simplify algebraic expressions, I designed the Algebra Simplification Card Game. What were the biggest challenges in developing these games? The first hurdle was figuring out which game structure suited which type of algebra problem. Once I overcame that, the next challenge was technical—accurately measuring dart zones, play areas, and tokens, and ensuring every problem had a valid solution. Initial testing also presented difficulties. The first group of students found the games challenging. But as they played more, they became more comfortable and more enthusiastic. Were there times you doubted the idea or felt like giving up? Yes, there were moments of frustration; especially during the shaping and measuring of boards and materials. But, I’ve always believed that nothing good comes easy. I saw every stumbling block as a stepping stone and kept pushing forward. How does the Algebra Evaluation Dart Game work? It is designed for expanding expressions of the form a(b + c). Two to four students take turns throwing a pointer at a dartboard containing such expressions. They must correctly expand the expression they hit. The judge tracks scores. The student with the highest score wins. How does the Algebra Factorisation Card Game help students master one of algebra’s toughest topics? It turns factorisation into a fun, competitive experience. Players race to correctly factorise polynomial expressions. The first to complete five correct answers in a row—horizontally, vertically, or diagonally—wins. It encourages fast thinking and improves recall. Which of the four games has the most surprising impact on students? While all four boosted engagement, the Tic-Tacmatics Game has the most striking effect. Students typically find quadratic expansions hard, but this game makes them excited to engage with it. The same way the completing-the-square method once frustrated and later fascinated me, this game has become a turning point for many students. Do you plan to distribute or commercialise the games nationwide or in Africa? I didn’t initially plan to sell them, but after seeing how effective they are, especially in bridging gender gaps in mathematics, I want them adopted widely. Some schools have already used them, and I’ve published an article on their impact. My goal is to see these tools in as many classrooms as possible. How do you plan to integrate these games into mainstream teaching? Based on data I gathered through Algebra Achievement and Retention Tests and Interest Scales, I’ve recommended these games in my MSc thesis and published work. I encourage schools to adopt them as teaching aids. I am also exploring partnerships to train teachers on implementation. In under-resourced communities, how can analogue games like yours compete with digital edtech solutions? Many students and teachers in such areas are already familiar with board and card games but lack access to digital tools. These analogue games are cost-effective, accessible, and culturally relevant, making them excellent tools for bridging learning gaps. How has your journey from teaching in Nigeria to studying at Purdue University shaped your worldview? My time at Purdue has helped me appreciate culturally responsive teaching and design-based learning. Here, we connect mathematics to real-world issues, making education more practical and meaningful. I have embraced STEM integration and AI applications in math education, building on my work with traditional methods in Nigeria. Now, I see myself as part of a global solution. I’m not just preparing to teach; I’m preparing to influence policy, practice, and innovation worldwide. When you’re not working on research or designing games, how do you unwind? I believe in balance. I spend time with my wife and children, who are my greatest emotional support. I also find spiritual renewal in church and enjoy fellowshipping with others. As a Dean’s Doctoral Fellow, Research Assistant, and PhD student, free time is rare. But I do make room for cultural experiences like hiking, skating, and kayaking with course mates and faculty. I also explore AI tools and social media to fuel my creativity and stay current.