Naji Salim Hussain Al-Ali/Naji al-Ali (Arabic: ناجي سليم العلي Nājī Salīm al-‘Alī; born c. 1938 – 29 August 1987): In the landscape of political cartooning, few voices have cut as deeply or as defiantly as that of Naji Salim Hussain al-Ali. With a pen as his weapon and a barefoot child named Handala as his witness, al-Ali chronicled the anguish, defiance, and unyielding spirit of the Palestinian people. In over 40,000 cartoons, he gave voice to a nation in exile and created enduring images of resistance, dignity, and political betrayal. His art, critical of Arab regimes, Israeli occupation, and global indifference alike, made him a powerful figure—and, ultimately, a martyr for truth.
Early Life: From Homeland to Exile
Born around 1938 in the northern Palestinian village of al-Shajara, al-Ali’s childhood was upended by the Nakba of 1948. Forced from their home, his family sought refuge in Ain al-Hilweh, a camp near Sidon, Lebanon. It was here—amidst hardship and displacement—that the foundations of his lifelong struggle for Palestinian identity and justice were laid.
Al-Ali attended a school run by the Union of Christian Churches, later training as a mechanic and laboring in Saudi Arabia before returning to Lebanon. He joined the Arab Nationalist Movement briefly but found party politics ill-suited to his fierce independence. A defining moment came in 1961, when his drawings caught the eye of Ghassan Kanafani, who published al-Ali’s first cartoon in Al-Hurriya. It was a spark that ignited a firestorm of political satire.
A Career in Resistance
In 1963, al-Ali moved to Kuwait, contributing to the nationalist magazine Al Tali’a and later working with Al-Siyasa, Al-Safir, and Al-Qabas. Over the next two decades, his cartoons grew into a formidable body of work, deeply rooted in class struggle, pan-Arab disillusionment, and the ongoing dispossession of Palestinians.
Unusually for a political cartoonist, al-Ali rarely caricatured individual politicians. Instead, he sketched “situations and realities,” offering visual allegories that distilled the geopolitical into the deeply personal. His recurring characters—a gaunt Palestinian everyman, the fat complacent Arab official, the crucified resister—formed a cast through which the Arab street saw itself.
By the 1980s, al-Ali’s reach had extended across the Arab world. His work, printed in newspapers from Beirut to Kuwait and later London, was regarded as the unfiltered voice of Arab public sentiment. In 1984, The Guardian described him as “the nearest thing there is to an Arab public opinion.”
Handala: The Silent Witness
Al-Ali’s most iconic creation, Handala—a ten-year-old boy with ragged clothes and his back turned to the viewer—first appeared in 1969 and quickly became the artist’s enduring signature. Handala represents the Palestinian refugee: barefoot, unyielding, and permanently ten years old—the age al-Ali was when he was forced to flee Palestine.
In 1973, Handala’s posture was fixed: turned away, arms clasped behind his back, observing the world with silent judgment. Al-Ali vowed Handala would never show his face until the Palestinian people could return home.
Over time, Handala evolved from an observer to an actor, hurling stones, planting flags, and standing defiantly against injustice. He became more than a cartoon character—he became a symbol of Palestinian resistance, adopted by protest movements, street artists, and political activists far beyond the Arab world, from the Iranian Green Movement to graffiti walls in refugee camps and city streets alike.
Assassination and Mystery
On 22 July 1987, outside the London offices of Al-Qabas, Naji al-Ali was shot in the neck with a 7.62 Tokarev pistol. He fell into a coma and died five weeks later on 29 August 1987, aged around 49. The assassination stunned the Arab world and remains unresolved.
Multiple theories abound: some suspect Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency, which was later found to have withheld information from British authorities and whose agents were connected to the case. Others believe Force 17, a Palestinian security unit loyal to Yasser Arafat, orchestrated the killing due to al-Ali’s unrelenting criticism of Palestinian leadership. Days before the attack, he reportedly said, “Whoever my killer may be, my killer is Yasser Arafat.”
The case remains open. In 2017, British police reopened their investigation, but no one has been held accountable.
Al-Ali’s wish was to be buried in Ain al-Hilweh, beside his father. This could not be arranged. He was laid to rest in Brookwood Islamic Cemetery outside London.
Legacy: A Pen Mightier Than Censorship
Al-Ali’s legacy is not confined to newsprint. His work lives on in books, murals, exhibitions, and education. His boldness inspired generations of Arab cartoonists to confront hypocrisy and authoritarianism. His characters continue to bear witness in refugee camps and protest banners.
Among his honors:
- President of the League of Arab Cartoonists (1979)
- First Prize in Arab cartoon exhibitions in Damascus (1979, 1980)
- Posthumous Golden Pen of Freedom (1988)
In Egypt, a biographical film starring Nour El-Sherif was produced to commemorate his life. And in Ain al-Hilweh, a statue of al-Ali was erected—but soon damaged in an explosion, its left eye shot out like the man himself. The statue was later restored, a symbolic gesture that, like Handala, reflects the refusal to be silenced.
A Voice That Could Not Be Silenced
Naji al-Ali believed that a cartoon should “sting and sing.” His art did both, illuminating injustice with scathing truth and haunting beauty. He refused to align with any political faction. He was loyal only to the dispossessed, the displaced, and the silenced.
Through Handala, he etched into the collective Arab consciousness an eternal reminder of exile—and the unwavering right of return.
Even in death, al-Ali’s lines continue to provoke, inspire, and demand accountability. He remains the ink-stained conscience of a people still waiting to go home.
Read also: 20 Most Underrated Cartoonists From Around the World
