It’s early summer in Moldova, and the cherries are already ripe. Fellow journalist Marian Männi and I pick and pop them into our mouths as we follow our chosen tour guide up a hill. We are exploring Old Orhei, a famous Moldovan landmark and archaeological site. It consists of three villages: Trebujeni to the north, Butuceni to the west and Morovaia to the east. The area is built on a green field, and the Răut River runs through it.

Following the guide’s lead, we climb a hill to find one of many cave monasteries. This one is rather hidden, so most tourists miss it entirely. 

My guide showcases a cave monastery above the Răut River, where tourists rarely find their way. Author’s photo.

A picture from the inside of the cave looking out. Author’s photo.

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The surrounding area is an unusual sight. The sloping bank of the Răut River emerges from a perfectly flat field, looking almost man-made. However, it is a natural reminder of how landscapes evolve. You can find perfect seashells on the limestone bank in a country with no coastline, much like on a sandy beach. Millions of years ago, the Răut River was part of the ancient Sarmatian Sea, just like the lands of today’s Moldova.

Scenic views of Old Orhei. One can barely see the river under the hill. Author’s photo.

My guide, Professor Sergiu Musteață, knows this site incredibly well. He is a renowned historian from Moldova and a professor at the Faculty of Philology and History at “Ion Creangă” State Pedagogical University. He has worked to educate locals about the history of Old Orhei and how to develop tourism businesses. He has also guided them in creating guesthouses and writing proposals for funding to build flushing toilets in their homes.

Old Orhei has been one of the main subjects of his research since 1996. “I know everyone in Orheiul Vechi [the Romanian version of the name]!” he laughs. He also knows all of the approximately 300 caves in the area and has personally researched many of them.

Professor Sergiu Musteață says that people working in Moldovan tourism need to understand that the basis of it is history and heritage. Author’s photo.

A scenic journey through unknown sites

Musteață leads us along a hidden path lined with cherry trees from an old student’s base. Researchers have been excavating this area for decades, as the unique landscape reveals layers of settlements dating back to prehistoric times.

“When we come here with students, we usually clean the neighborhood and cut the grass first,” Musteață says, pushing branches away from the path. If only tourists knew about this shortcut hidden in nature.

Professor Musteață peers through a rustic gate. Author’s photo.

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“We have organized 20 years of summer camps for the locals during the excavations, including summer schools for local kids. Lots of students, both locals and internationals, participated!” he states emphatically.

Despite many efforts, only a few locals have made a name for themselves in the tourism sector. “I don’t know why. There is not so much interest. It should be the most prominent place among tourists,” Musteață comments.

Unlike other visitors, we walk past the Peștera cave monastery, the main tourist attraction of Old Orhei. The current underground tunnels date back to 1820. However, the caves in these limestone hills have existed since the 14th century. Orthodox monks found solitude and a place for spiritual retreat in this isolation.

“There is another cave monastery here. Locals know about it, but only a few tourists will visit it,” says Musteață. This is where we are heading.

We walk past the Peștera cave monastery and head off-road to find another lesser-known monastery. Author’s photo.

We walk on the bank, passing through the Church of Ascension of St. Mary. The view of the valley and fields is breathtaking. Turning left, the professor leads us onto an almost unrecognizable road downhill from the bank. Our slippers aren’t ideal footwear for this leg of the journey, but nevertheless, we climb down the limestone bank to a land of grazing cows.

Musteață guides us onto a new path, leading down the limestone bank. Author’s photo.

After walking, we climb again to another obscure cave monastery of Old Orhei, built above the Răut’s waters. There isn’t a single soul up here now, but historically, monks isolated themselves in this cave. As a result, the monastery is covered in signs of human habitation.

The church’s facade is engraved with Slavonian writing: “This church was built by the slave of Bosie, pircalab (Chief Magistrate) of Orhei, together with his wife and his children, to cherish God, to forgive his sins.”

The professor shows us around. We see where the monks would sleep and where they built their fireplace. All the caves are in remarkably good shape, with few signs of dripping rocks.

We view the monastery’s exterior, which has endured for centuries. Author’s photo.

This structure often goes unexplored by tourists. “It’s a bit too far and difficult to access. That’s why people don’t know much about it and wouldn’t end up here,” Musteață explains.

Musteață teaches us about the monastery. Author’s photo.

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On the whole, Old Orhei is a fascinating, history site. And its antiquity is richer than one might expect.

Mankind has loved this region since ancient times

The surroundings have been populated since the Paleolithic era due to good location — the river protects Old Orhei from three sides. The land is suitable for agriculture and flowing water is nearby.

Archaeological findings suggest that the Getians built some fortresses and settlements in this region during the 4th to 3rd centuries BCE, taking advantage of the natural fortifications provided by the rocky outcroppings and riverbanks.

In the 14th century CE, Old Orhei became part of the medieval state of Moldova (Țara Moldovei) after the collapse of the Golden Horde, a Mongol-Tatar state that controlled this territory as well.

After the Tatar period in the 12th to 14th centuries, an Orthodox Christian community developed during medieval times. Political stability and the protective embrace of nature made Old Orhei an important center. Moldovan hero and ruler Stephen the Great, whose rule lasted from 1457 to 1504, appointed his uncle, Peter III Aaron, to rule there. The area was fortified with strong defensive walls and towers.

Life in Old Orhei slowly faded in the 17th century. The administration moved to neighboring New Orhei, and gradually, the monastic community began to disappear. The last monks are believed to have left Old Orhei at the beginning of the 19th century. By this time, many monastic communities in the region faced significant challenges due to political changes, invasions and pressures from the expanding Ottoman Empire. The decline in monastic life at Old Orhei was part of a broader trend affecting many religious sites in the region.

At the beginning of the 20th century, a new Virgin Mary Church was built atop the bank near a cave monastery to revitalize the area’s spiritual significance. It serves as a symbol of Old Orhei’s continued religious heritage, even after the original monastic community dispersed.

Though the region’s religiosity remains, Old Orhei’s authenticity, unfortunately, has recently declined.

The loss of authenticity in a historic land

Many historical sites in Old Orhei face the problem of random preservation efforts, which are not concerned with preserving the site’s authentic look.

In 2023, the road from Butuceni village in the Cultural-Natural Reserve was asphalted, which led to an investigation by the Ministry of Culture. It ruined the village’s authenticity but gave locals more logistical freedom.

Climbing on the bank, we notice a brand-new red-roofed dwelling that, from a logical viewpoint, should not have been built in the reserve. But there it is, like the newly constructed path to the Peștera cave monastery and the asphalted road in Butuceni village.

This modern tampering is one thing preventing Moldova from having its first United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) World Heritage Site.

“There is too much industrialization in a place where authenticity is worshiped,” Musteață laments. The Old Orhei Reserve has been on the UNESCO tentative list for years but is not moving forward any time soon. “I don’t think there is much hope at the moment,” Musteață admits honestly.

The situation saddens him. He and other researchers have worked for years to put this site on the world map as a part of humanity’s historical cradle, to no avail.

“The landscape and the density of settlements since prehistory is special. You can see the changes in this part of the world, moving from East to West. The Golden Horde, the Islamic period, Christians — there is a huge variety of artifacts describing how people lived in this area,” Musteață explains.

Life has moved on from this relic. The Orthodox Church still holds significant power in the small country of Moldova, but only traces of the glory the church once had in Old Orhei remain. In the 1940s, the Soviet Union started excavations in the region, which also disrupted the old sites; they built a new road through the Golden Horde citadel and cut it in half.

“A historic road should go around the citadel. It’s completely doable,” Musteață says.

The professor feels that many of Moldova’s stories remain untold, even that of such a landmark as Old Orhei. “It is frustrating. We need to tell our story!” Musteață suggests.

He thinks the country itself should put Orhei at the top of the list of tourist destinations in Moldova. After all, it’s the most important tourist site in the country. “It should be declared a state priority, a national strategy,” he says. “People working in this field in Moldova need to understand that the basis of tourism is history and heritage.”

That is another reason why Moldova’s Old Orhei is not on the UNESCO list. “Our country overall is underrepresented,” Musteață believes.

According to UNESCO, the organization is not in a position to comment on what is missing for Old Orhei to receive its World Heritage Site title. Moldova first proposed the area as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2008 but withdrew its nomination the following year.

In September 2015, Moldova submitted a new version of the nomination dossier as “Orheiul Vechi Archaeological Landscape,” a cultural site. Following the evaluation process and a recommendation by the International Council on Monuments and Sites, Moldova withdrew the nomination again.

Luckily, Moldova appears on the UNESCO list as part of a group of countries with the Struve Geodetic Arc, a chain of survey triangulations spanning ten countries and over 2,820 kilometers. This chain reaches from the world’s northernmost city — Hammerfest, Norway — to the Black Sea. The listed site includes 34 points across all ten countries, one of which is in Moldova. The country is eager to earn its very own World Heritage Site title, even if it isn’t Old Orhei.

[Lee Thompson-Kolar edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.

Neri Zilber’s piece “Far-right minister accused of politicising Israeli police” (Report, September 17) eloquently describes the crisis in the West Bank. Israel’s current government and its unsavoury allies in the settler movement stand accused, but in truth every government since 1967 has favoured illegal settlement.

The first settlements — the so-called Nahal settlements — in September 1967 were supposedly military and so did not, Israel argued, contravene international law. The west did nothing, so Israel then went ahead with brazen colonisation. When the first Oslo Accord was signed in 1993, there were in the order of 110,000 settlers in the West Bank.

A central principle of Oslo was that neither party would takes steps that would prejudice final status talks five years later. But Israel’s so-called moderate leaders, Yitzhak Rabin and Shimon Peres, immediately inaugurated the most intensive phase of settlement to date. By January 1996 settlers numbered 140,000. Rabin told his electorate not to worry — the Palestinians would not get a state. Meanwhile, Rabin and Peres accepted the Nobel Peace Prize. Butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. The west did nothing. The Palestinians knew they had been stitched up.

So we should be under no illusions. This isn’t simply Benjamin Netanyahu and his associates, it is the long-standing thrust of the majority of Israelis across the political spectrum. Western governments have known this all along and even now appear unwilling to ensure respect for international humanitarian law as they have undertaken to do.

The UN General Assembly is likely to agree that the July 19 advisory opinion of the International Court of Justice, which spells out Israel’s lawbreaking in detail, must be applied.

If it isn’t, in the Middle East the killing will continue while in New York the UN may face an impasse given the unwillingness of the US and its allies to uphold the international order they themselves helped put in place.

David McDowall
London TW10, UK

Once used for sun protection from the blistering sun in Southwest Asia and North Africa, the kaffiyeh’s function, and symbolism, has undeniably transformed over time. It’s been spotted on high-fashion Palestinian supermodel Bella Hadid, on the necks of students at college encampments, and covering the faces of activists at pro-Palestinian marches. It’s been sold on the shelves of Urban Outfitters and Louis Vuitton, and subject to bans by the Australian state of Victoria, which barred legislators from wearing the scarf in parliament because of its “political” nature.

And in recent decades it has become widely recognized as a symbol of Palestinian nationalism and resistance. The link far predates the Israel-Hamas War, which has taken the lives of more than 40,000 Palestinians since Oct. 7, when 200 Israelis were taken hostage and more than 1,000 were killed on the night. Just last week, the Noguchi Museum in New York City fired three employees for wearing it to work, banning clothing associated with “political messages, slogans or symbols.”

For Palestinians, the symbolism of the kaffiyeh can also be deeply personal. “I embroidered my kaffiyeh with tatriz, which is the word for embroidery in Arabic, to express my connection to my homeland, not just as a symbol of resistance to what is happening today in the Israeli occupation, but as an expression of myself,” says Wafa Ghnaim, a Palestinian dress historian and researcher.

What is the kaffiyeh?

The kaffiyeh is a square-shaped hand-woven checkered scarf with a wavy motif around the border– representing olive leaves—and oftentimes tassels along opposite sides. (Olive trees, which have been growing in Gaza and the West Bank for centuries, are a pivotal part of both Palestinian culture and the local economy.)

Though historically an Arab male headdress, today the kaffiyeh is worn by people of all races and genders across Southwest Asia, Northern Africa and beyond. “There used to be many different patterns, sometimes different colors and designs. But the idea was having a scarf that was useful within a hotter climate,” says Haitham Kuraishi, a tour guide at the Museum of the Palestinian People.  

The black-and-white kaffiyeh is the one most commonly worn by Palestinians and those who wear the scarf in solidarity with the people living under tumult in the Gaza Strip. But other predominant colors of the kaffiyeh are popular in other territories. The red kaffiyeh, for instance, is more popular in Jordan, suggests Kuraishi. 

A clothing item that dates back centuries 

Kaffiyehs were first worn by Sumerians, part of an ancient civilization dating back to 4500 BCE, in what was then-known as Mesopotamia, according to Kuraishi. The scarf then took off among Bedouins, indigenous people in the desert regions of the Arabian Peninsula, partly due to its practical uses. “If you were trudging through the desert, you could also use that scarf to cover your mouth from a dust storm, or a sandstorm, and [it was] also a way of just having shade,” says Kuraishi. Until the early 20th century, kaffiyehs were primarily worn by Bedouins, to distinguish nomadic men from the villagers and townsmen, according to Ghnaim. 

That changed after World War I when the League of Nations issued the British Mandate for Palestine, which was drawn up in 1920 and granted Britain responsibility for the territory that then comprised Palestine. That mandate also called for the establishment of a “national home for the Jewish people,” according to the document. The resulting tumult broiled into the Arab Revolt of 1936-1939, which marked the first “sustained violent uprising of Palestinian Arabs in more than a century,” in a call for Palestinian sovereignty and independence, says Kuraishi. 

“Palestinian men put on the kaffiyah, and not just on their head, around their neck, as almost a uniform,” adds Ghnaim. The kaffiyeh thus became a symbol of solidarity uniting working class Palestinians with the upper-class, who would typically also wear a fez.

Other prominent figures also popularized the scarf in the years to follow. Former President of the Palestinian Authority Yasser Arafat, who once graced the cover of TIME magazine with the kaffiyeh in 1968, was well-known for wearing the scarf on his head in a triangular shape that mimicked the shape of Palestine, Ghnaim says. In the 1960s, Leila Khaled, a “freedom fighter” and leader of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine—which the U.S. designated a terrorist group—also wore the kaffiyeh. “That move of wearing [the kaffiyeh] on her head as a woman, like a hijab, garnered a lot of attention [and] widespread popularity around the world, but also in the Palestinian community [and] diaspora,” adds Ghnaim.

Recent adoption

The scarf has resurged in the fashion world several times in recent decades. In 1988, the same year that the Palestine National Council announced the establishment of the State of Palestine following a staged uprising against Israel, TIME wrote about the scarves’ adoption by the American public. Then, TIME reporter Jay Cocks argued that the kaffiyeh, once a “garment of choice among the political protesters and antimissile advocates of the ‘70s and early ‘80s” had become “politically neutral.” 

That connotation doesn’t remain true today. In 2007, the New York Times reported that kaffiyehs were marketed as “antiwar” scarves by Urban Outfitters, though they were later pulled from stores “due to the sensitive nature of this item.”

Today, many Palestinians recognize that while the checkered scarf is a symbol of resistance, it’s still undeniably tied with their own cultural heritage. 

“While other Arabic-speaking nations might have a similar pattern or design, [the kaffiyeh] doesn’t have that added meaning of resistance against occupation and invasion that it does amongst Palestinians,” says Kuraishi. “Palestinians will wear it for weddings or graduations, not just protests—so good times and bad.”

Three well-known online publishers – The Bureau of Investigative Journalism, Open Democracy and The Bristol Cable – have signed up to independent press regulator Impress.

They join more than 200 other – mostly small, online and either local or specialist – member publications to Impress, which is the Royal Charter-recognised press regulator.

Rival regulator the Independent Press Standards Organisation represents most newspaper and magazine publishers in the UK including all the nationals except for The Guardian, The Observer, Financial Times and The Independent which are not signed up to any regulator.

Of the new arrivals, Impress chief executive Lexie Kirkconnell-Kawana said: “As Impress reaches the end of its first decade, it is incredibly heartening to see these prestigious platforms eager to join the membership.

“With plummeting trust in journalism and increased threats to freedom of speech, the importance of Impress and the protection we offer public interest journalism has never been more apparent.