From rumours to insinuation, my campaign showed how Palestinian political expression is treated as suspicion.
In December 2025, I was elected president of the Oxford Union, the world-famous debating society. I made history as the first Palestinian to hold the role in the institution’s 203-year history.
I won the presidency by a significant margin, in an election that saw turnout far exceed recent contests. Throughout my campaign, I was open about my background as a Palestinian from Gaza, and about how my identity and family history have shaped my understanding of the importance of representation and debate. That openness, however, quickly became the basis for sustained attempts to discredit me.
Rather than engaging with my stated platform or my record, early press reporting questioned my suitability for office purely on the basis of who I am. The aim was clear: to portray me as a radical, an extremist, someone inherently suspect.
These reports did not emerge in isolation. They formed part of a wider smear campaign that accompanied my presidential run, in which I was cast as an extremist and a security concern. Within that framing, false rumours began circulating that students who supported my campaign could face consequences themselves, including the loss of visas, placement on security watchlists or formal investigations. No evidence was ever produced to substantiate any of this.
I always expected student politics to involve a certain level of hostility. What shocked me was the extent to which supposedly reputable outlets adopted these narratives without basic due diligence, and in some cases went further, presenting insinuations as fact in order to depict me as unfit for office.
That pattern became unmistakable when I received an email from the Jewish Chronicle seeking my response to a forthcoming article, a month after I had already been reported on by the Jerusalem Post. The email was framed as an opportunity for a “right of reply”, but in practice it set out a series of claims and insinuations, presented as evidence of extremism. The most glaring of these was a supposed family link to a Hamas member.
The claim referred to Mohammed Al-Rayis, a man killed in an Israeli drone strike in Beirut in January 2024. He is not related to me. The suggestion relied on pairing one of the most common first names in the Arab world with a widely shared family name from Gaza. My father, Mohammed Elrayess, who bears the same name, is a scientist at Qatar University and is very much alive.
Other points raised in the same email were not allegations of wrongdoing at all, but descriptions of my speech and activities, reframed to appear suspicious.
One concerned a social media post in which I mourned the killing of Saleh Aljafarawi, a Palestinian journalist killed in Gaza in October 2025, shortly after the announcement of the latest “ceasefire”. In the email, the Jewish Chronicle journalist described Aljafarawi as a “Hamas propagandist”.
Israel’s assault on Gaza has been the deadliest conflict for journalists in recorded history. My post was a defence of press freedom and a tribute to a media worker killed in the line of duty.
Another concerned my involvement in a documentary I helped produce, Heart of a Protest, which followed pro-Palestine demonstrations across the UK. It was a zero-budget film that allowed protesters to explain why they continued to mobilise and the obstacles they faced in doing so. All proceeds went to families in Gaza.
Another line of attack focused on a speech I made at the Oxford Union in November 2024, in favour of the motion, “This house believes that Israel is an apartheid state responsible for genocide”. There was no interest in the substance of what I said. The objection was to my participation itself.
I am proud that I spoke at that debate to rebut arguments that justified or supported the genocide in Gaza. I am proud that I was able to speak about my relative, Maisara Al-Rayis, who was killed alongside his family in an Israeli air strike on his home. If that is an allegation, I accept it without hesitation.
For me, these patterns of attack do not reflect strength. They reflect weakness. If the concerns raised about me were genuine, if I truly posed a danger to the institution I now lead, there would be no need to recast lawful and legitimate political expression as evidence of extremism, or to imply guilt through invented family associations.
These attempts to discredit me sit within a broader effort to silence Palestinians in public life, and to discourage Palestinian participation altogether. They are meant to warn us off.
They will not.
Let a hundred articles be written to mischaracterise or defame us. We have long passed the point where this can intimidate us into silence. If anything, it makes the need to speak all the more urgent.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect media’s editorial stance.
