Trauma and defiance: Life and death of 17-year-old killed fighting Israel

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Nablus, occupied West Bank – Before he was killed by an Israeli drone 18 months ago at the young age of 17, Wael Mesheh was an aspiring university student who was wanted to be a successful computer programmer.

But having seen five of his relatives and friends cut down by Israeli forces during almost daily raids of his northern West Bank refugee camp of Balata, the Palestinian teenager came to believe that life and death were the same, engendering a desire to sacrifice himself for the cause of Palestinian freedom, and therefore turning himself – in his belief – into a “martyr”.

Defenders of the camps

The West Bank’s 19 refugee camps, once makeshift tented communities when they were established in 1948 after Israel’s founding and intended to be temporary, are now densely populated built-up areas housing the descendants of hundreds of thousands of refugees.

The older generations remember being forcibly expelled from their homes in historical Palestine by Zionist militias in the 1948 Nakba to pave the way for the creation of an Israeli state.

The United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) describes the camps as dominated by poverty, severe overcrowding, and joblessness. The camps are also the primary targets of Israeli military operations in the West Bank.

Without the prospect of a normal childhood for their occupants, the lure of fighting Israel can often prove irresistible.

Nablus-based psychologist, Nisreen Bsharat, said “martyrdom”, particularly for those in the camps, is viewed as the ultimate demonstration of faith and resilience.

Bsharat, who works with young people and grieving mothers from Balata, said martyrdom is seen as a “’heroic’ contribution to Palestine”, and that martyrs and their families are celebrated as such.

Those who fight against Israel are seen as “role models” when so few opportunities exist in refugee camps, Bsharat added.

“Historically, martyrdom is tied to our national identity,” she said. “It’s seen as the least we can offer our homeland, and part of our duty.”

Though far from an exclusively Islamic concept, Palestinians often refer to those who are killed by Israeli forces as martyrs, believing they sacrifice their lives fighting for their nation, Islam, and the Holy Land – and believe that God promises them their place in paradise.

Bethlehem-based clinical psychologist and academic, Amanda Manasra, who was born in Aida refugee camp, and focuses on trauma in Palestine, told Al Jazeera the vast majority of camp residents live with untreated complex post-traumatic stress disorder (CPTSD), which is significantly more difficult to cure.

The harsh environment of the camps creates a revolutionary fervour that is far less common in wealthier areas, Manasra added.

“The idea of martyrdom is related to how Palestinians find meaning to deal with hardship, individually and collectively,” she said.

“Many of my cases are adolescent men from the camps – many former prisoners – who have lost so many friends and family members.

“Joining the resistance is about taking control – it can feel like a reward for experiencing hardship, and can satisfy feelings of retribution.

“The fighters feel they have survived, persisted, and beaten the occupation war machine.”

Camps in the northern West Bank came under even more relentless attack since Israel launched “Operation Iron Wall” in January 2025, which has displaced tens of thousands of refugees in nearby Jenin and Tulkarem, and killed hundreds.

Psychological toll

Belal, who spent eight years in Palestinian Authority (PA) prison during Wael’s childhood, feels the pain of his son’s loss deeply.

They both had only ever known the narrow, labyrinthine streets and decrepit buildings of Balata, the most populous refugee camp in the West Bank. But Belal feels that he wasn’t able to be there to guide Wael through them.

“I didn’t get the chance to see Wael growing up, or spend time with him as all other fathers do,” he said, unable to fight back his tears.

“I envy his mother and brother because at least they lived with him. They have beautiful and plentiful memories with him, shared moments.

“Do you know what it feels like to carry your son on your shoulders, place him in his grave, and bury him with your own hands? It is the hardest thing in the world.”

Belal, whose brother was also killed by Israel when he was younger, said he and his son had so many plans for when he would be released from prison.

In the end, Belal was freed only on compassionate grounds so he could see Wael for the final time before he was buried.

Israel’s actions breed hatred

For those in Nablus’s refugee camps, violent incidents like Wael’s killing are nearly a weekly reality – and a doom-laden reminder that death lurks around every corner.

Belal recalled Wael becoming deeply affected as a child by the 20-year imprisonment of his closest uncle, after whom he was named. Later, he became preoccupied with avenging those close to him whose lives he says Israel had stolen. Four of Wael’s cousins had been killed in the 12 months preceding his death.

“Of course, it was also the constant invasions and the violence he grew up around, and the barbaric way the soldiers treat us,” Belal told Al Jazeera.

“Every night, we experience the atmosphere of Israel’s raids. We’re forced to accept this life – we have no choice but to adjust.”

Belal said that when Wael was growing up, there were no youth clubs or even parks that could take his mind off the harsh life in the camp. He added that soldiers had once raided the family’s house and destroyed “literally everything”.

“It’s actions like these that breed hatred toward them.”

Belal specifically remembered Wael, who had just begun high school, being enraged by footage of Israeli soldiers beating women in Al-Aqsa Mosque in occupied East Jerusalem, one of Islam’s holiest sites.

“Wael couldn’t accept that soldiers would beat women and girls,” he said. “It was intolerable for him.”

Wael’s surviving family live in a crowded second-floor apartment near the centre of the camp, and his father, two of his brothers, his little sister, and his grieving mother took turns tearfully eulogising him.

His mother, Hanadi, was beaten, and his brother, Ibrahim, was also detained as soldiers broke into their apartment late at night to arrest Wael.

Hanadi was shocked by Wael’s condition once he was released from prison.

“The marks of torture remained on his body even after his release,” she said. “Burn scars from extinguished cigarettes were visible on his back and hands.”

Refugee camps under siege

Balata has often been a target for the Israeli military, and, according to the UN, 30 people have been killed in the camp since Israel intensified its attacks on the West Bank following Hamas’s October 7 attacks.

The pictures of Palestinians killed fighting Israel are emblazoned, like shrines, on the camp’s walls.

About 33,000 people are crammed into Balata’s narrow streets. It spans an area of 0.25 square kilometres (0.1sq miles), and has one of the highest rates of unemployment and food insecurity anywhere in the territory, according to UNRWA.

On August 15, Wael and two other fighters rushed to confront an incursion of Israeli soldiers when they were struck by a drone on the camp’s main street. Wael and fellow fighter Ahmad Khalil were killed instantly, while four others, including children, were injured.

Hanadi described the camp being surrounded by soldiers while gunshots rang close by, as she comforted her younger children.

“The moment I heard the sound of the missile, I knew he had been martyred,” she said.

“I started praying for God to accept him and to give me strength to bear this calamity.

“I also prayed that his face would remain unharmed because he always wished his face wouldn’t be disfigured so we could say our goodbyes to him properly.”

Tsunami of trauma

Manasra said there is a tsunami of untreated mental health problems across the West Bank, while services remain hopelessly stretched, underfunded, and inaccessible for most.

She says the glorification surrounding resistance to Israel and martyrdom also obscures a more difficult reality of unprocessed grief and trauma that lingers with individuals and families forever.

Supporting families in the camps like Belal’s is nearly impossible when services are so costly and restricted, she says.

Without any such mental health support, Belal spoke of his suffering and told Al Jazeera that, since his son’s death, “joy has not entered our house”.

“We may smile or laugh at each other to show politeness, but inside, it’s different,” he added.

“Inside, there’s only fire – and pain.”

Too often, the burden of resistance falls on the poorest residents of the West Bank’s refugee camps.

In each case, the reason for resisting is different. But there are nearly always similarities: Hardship, piety, retribution, and a sense of duty to one’s country.

The pride found in resisting only briefly distracts from the deep scars left by Israel’s occupation, which is tightening its grip over the West Bank – particularly in the refugee camps.

The surviving families of those killed are left somewhere between terrible grief and hopeful adulation.

“When I sit alone, I imagine Wael beside me,” Belal added.

“Sometimes, I feel like hugging his picture tightly to my chest as I cry my heart out.

“He was a role model even for me. I bid him farewell with complete serenity – I know God will accept him as a martyr.”

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