Israel vs. Palestine in Manga
The conflict in the Middle East is playing out in the world’s most popular form of graphic art
Makoto Tanaka
Makoto Tanaka
Makoto Tanaka
Makoto Tanaka
Since Oct. 7, comic artists, both Japanese and Israeli, have used manga as a medium to convey their thoughts about the Israel-Hamas war and its consequences, speaking to Japanese, Israeli and Palestinian, and global audiences. Through manga, all of these artists hope to voice their sometimes complex, sometimes unrefined, but always honest feelings about the events surrounding Oct. 7 and after. As the mangaka Guy Lenman explained, “I knew from the start I wanted to create comics about that, because this is my art, this is my talent. I will use it for good, I hope.”
Manga is no stranger to political expression, having cemented itself in the cultural zeitgeist of Japan after World War II. The influence of American comics is evident in early popular manga, an obvious example being Osamu Tezuka’s Astro Boy. Like most manga, Astro Boy was adapted into an anime, achieving massive national success. Underlying the flashy, bug-eyed characters of the era was a country’s attempts to cope with the military defeat and atomic destruction it suffered, wounds that were still fresh in the minds of artists and their audience. As Japan grew into a confident postwar society, manga became a full-fledged cultural phenomenon, fragmenting into vastly different genres, from romance to horror, read by all ages and all genders, in what became a multi-billion-dollar industry with global reach and significance.
In the early 2000s, anime and manga began to trickle into the media of other countries, one of them being Israel, where Nippon Animation aired adaptations of beloved and classic Western stories, such as Peter Pan, on Israeli cable television. Although an odd departure from its source material, these productions still effectively captured the hearts of many a young Israeli viewer, one of them being Guy Lenman. Although he later pivoted to a grungier, less stylized iteration of Japanese cartooning (citing inspiration from the style of Fullmetal Alchemist), Lenman says that the adaptations were the first to make him realize that he “really enjoyed the anime style.”
Lenman started posting his personal manga-influenced art online, sometimes depicting fantastical creatures and other times one-page comics illustrating small moments in his life. He gravitated toward sci-fi fantasy stories, eventually founding Freelines Studio with his colleague and longtime friend Nimrod Fridman. The two got their big break at the 13th Japan International Manga Award, where they won first prize for their manga Piece of Mind. The comic deals with questions of humanity, one’s true self, and empathy, themes that Lenman says he imbued into his latest work—a manga for an anthology featuring the work of 12 graphic novelists titled In the Heart of October 7th.
Through his anthology, Lenman aims to share the stories of everyday people on Oct. 7. He chose to focus on the lives of his parents-in-law, Marcel and Dror Kaplun, who were murdered by Hamas on their kibbutz the morning of Oct. 7. At first, Lenman and his wife believed that the two were taken as hostages, since Hamas released videos of Marcel and Dror being attacked, but neither of their bodies were found. However, as investigations continued, Marcel’s body was recovered, and soon after, a salvaged piece of a hipbone was identified as belonging to Dror.
Lenman says that going into the project, it was particularly important to him to portray the whole truth—he said to himself, “The truth is so horrible and so horrifying and so terrible, you will not show anything (unless) you know for a fact it happened.” Lenman investigated the videos released by Hamas in excruciating detail, taking note of each and every one of the terrorists’ actions and directly translating the Arabic spoken. I asked Lenman why it was so important for him to be this meticulous about telling Marcel and Dror’s story, even if it meant reliving the terror of that day again and again. He answered with the following:
A lot of artists, because of the heinous acts of Hamas, drew them as demons; there’s so much anger. I thought, that’s not right for me. I wanted to show them as people who did terrible things, because we are all people and we are capable of that. I think lots of people want to avert their gaze when they see really horrible stuff because either it’s too hard to take in, or it makes the world more gray, and we want to think about the world as black and white—there are good people and bad people. Lots of people are desperately trying to find out “who are the bad guys and who are the good guys” and they’re so divided. Of course, there are horrible acts committed by people, but it’s not that simple. If you want to form an educated opinion, you have to face the reality and really study it. Then, at least form your opinion about the affair. It’s a complicated issue. Human nature is complicated.
The Japanese medium allowed Lenman to tell a story that was not only essentially Israeli but also fundamentally human. And yet, a cultural exchange involves not one but two parties. So what do the Japanese mangaka make of the events of Oct. 7?
When Netflix’s Unorthodox debuted on the platform, it enthralled an already established Japanese mangaka: Makoto Tanaka. While her career started with comics depicting life after attending a music university, it eventually morphed into one exploring, and sometimes even romanticizing, Jewish and Israeli culture. “I have been publishing information about Jewish culture and Israel since 2022,” said Tanaka, as stated on her personal website. Tanaka’s works began to include manga featuring trips to Israel, El Al airlines, and chibi style (a style of manga caricature with big-head, small-body proportions) Hasidic rabbis, sidelocks and all.
After Oct. 7, Tanaka’s artistic agenda shifted to the events concerning the Israel-Hamas war. Anime girls with shocking, tekhelet-blue hair swathed in bright yellow ribbon, manga panels commemorating fallen IDF soldiers, and characters draped in the Israeli flag soon flooded Tanaka’s Instagram. Her patriotism eventually caught the attention of the Israeli Embassy, which commissioned her to produce a manga about the life of now-released hostage Noa Argamani.
Manga has allowed artists to tell a story that is not only essentially Israeli but fundamentally human.
According to the Israeli ambassador to Japan, Gilad Cohen, Tanaka’s manga “is a unique project that was created with the aim of continuing to raise the awareness of the issue of the hostages in Japan.” In some ways, Tanaka seems to serve as a link between the Israeli and Japanese governments, partaking in government initiatives to unite the nations behind a common cause: the release of the hostages.
Other manga artists in Japan have expressed solidarity with Palestine. An example of this is the Japanese mangaka community’s adoption of the Twitter movement #WithHandala. Handala was originally the conception of Palestinian cartoonist Naji Salim al-Ali. Growing up in a refugee camp, al-Ali drew political cartoons that became renowned for their scathing critique of Arab and Israeli regimes and were published in newspapers across the world. One of his characters, Handala, a 10-year-old boy, is perpetually shown standing with his back turned to the viewer and his hands clasped behind his back—a silent, enduring witness to the events taking place in the Middle East. The character has since become synonymous with the Palestinian cause.
The first use of Handala as a figure for cartoonists to show their support for the Palestinian people was spearheaded by Francesca Ghermandi. Ghermandi, an Italian illustrator herself, amassed a group of 80 Italian cartoonists to draw their own characters in Handala’s iconic posture.
After its publication, the Italian collection piqued the interest of three Japanese artists—Tokushige Kawakatsu (a mangaka), Mariko Matsushita (a painter), and Zohre Miha (a photograph artist)—who organized their own Japanese iteration of the Handala project. “Seeing this campaign in Italy, we planned this project in the hope that we could create an appeal with the cooperation of Cartoonists in Japan, along with Handala, to appeal for the back of their own characters,” the three wrote in a published statement. The mangakas of Japan could join the movement by posting the back of their character in Handala’s fashion on X with the hashtag “withHandala.” #withHandala blew up, with many well-established mangakas partaking in the movement. One of these artists was Kamome Shirahama, creator of the popular manga series Witch Hat Atelier, which has amassed a cult following over the course of its serialization with an anime adaptation on the horizon. Shirahama posted a drawing of the series’ main character, Coco, in the Handala pose, captioning it “I join Handala in calling for an immediate ceasefire. #withHandala.” [“ハンダラと共に即時停戦を求めます。#withHandala”; translation]. As of October 2024, the post has received 2.4 million views.
Returning to its roots, manga is once again conveying the sentiments surrounding war through the same bold lines and large eyes as it did over 75 years ago. This time, however, it has also created a unique space for discourse between cultures that may seem at odds with each other. Artists like Lenman, Tanaka, and the participants in the #withHandala movement reveal the remarkably perennial and culturally transcendent characteristics of manga, which speaks to children and adults alike in a language that uniquely belongs to the art form.
Jem Hanan is a sophomore at Barnard College, Columbia University.