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Saturday, May 26, 2012

People Power for Peace


Saliba Sarsar
Hussein Ibish, Ph.D.

People Power for Peace

Posted: 05/25/2012
 [AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine]  
 June 5, 2012 marks the 45th anniversary of the start of the Six-Day War. One of us experienced the war in Jerusalem at the age of 11, and the other in Beirut at age 4, yet it haunts us to this day. The war led to the ongoing Israeli military occupation that has come to define the conflict. It has lessened neither the fears of the triumphant Israelis, nor those of the defeated Arabs; the mindset of confrontation that produced the war still haunts the region.

Despite the military might and economic prowess of their state, Jewish Israelis feel insecure and hesitant to trust the Arab side. They remain traumatized by a tragic history. For some, clinging on to the occupation is seen as a security necessity. For others, it is the fear of losing land that they consider a divine or historical birthright.


The Palestinians, given their historic dispossession and suffering in exile or under Israeli occupation, feel increasingly disempowered and disillusioned, and are rapidly losing hope that a two-state solution will ever be achieved. Given its immoral and indefensible system, the occupation is wrecking their livelihood and lives, and condemns them to live without basic human and national rights.


The State of Palestine remains an unfulfilled promise and seems a distant reality. Peace negotiations, United Nations resolutions, and accords have reached a seemingly impossible impasse. Israeli and Palestinian politicians are not listening to each other. Years of conflict and narratives of struggle and pain mean both national communities are caught up in their own visions and divisions.


A year has passed since Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas wrote an op-ed in The New York Times about "The Long Overdue Palestinian State." At the same time, U.S. President Barack Obama spoke, on May 19, 2011, about the need to base future negotiations on the pre-June 5, 1967 lines...READ MORE

Thursday, May 24, 2012

AIPAC inspired H.R. 4133....passed by America's Congress on May 9 by a vote of 411–2 on a “suspension of the rules,” which is intended for non-controversial legislation requiring little debate and a quick vote.


"If Congress wants to give Israel the type of guarantees that would require Washington to support Tel Aviv’s foreign and security policy, there should be a free and open debate with the American people understanding clearly what such a commitment means in terms of costs and consequences, not a “suspension of rules” stealth legislative package."  Philip Giraldi, executive director of the Council for the National Interest and a recognized authority on international security and counterterrorism issues.

"... A number of congressmen spoke on the bill, affirming their undying dedication to the cause of Israel. Rep. Ron Paul of Texas was the only one who spoke out against it, describing it as “one-sided and counterproductive foreign policy legislation. This bill’s real intent seems to be more saber-rattling against Iran and Syria.” Paul also observed that “this bill states that it is the policy of the United States to ‘reaffirm the enduring commitment of the United States to the security of the State of Israel as a Jewish state.’ However, according to our Constitution, the policy of the United States government should be to protect the security of the United States, not to guarantee the religious, ethnic, or cultural composition of a foreign country.” Paul voted “no” and was joined by only one other representative, John Dingell of Michigan"
http://mycatbirdseat.com/2012/05/us-house-stealthily-passes-extreme-pro-israel-legislation/

US House Stealthily Passes Extreme Pro-Israel Legislation

My letter to the NYTimes RE Not All Israeli Citizens Are Equal by Yousef Manayyer (& Power With Purpose by Thomas L. Friedman)


RE:  Not All Israeli Citizens Are Equal by Yousef Manayyer http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/24/opinion/not-all-israeli-citizens-are-equal.html?_r=1 (& Power With Purpose by  Thomas L. Friedman   http://www.americantaskforce.org/daily_news_article/2012/05/22/power_purpose )
 Dear Editor,

Earlier this week (in the NYTIMES) Thomas Friedman wrote of power. In his opinion Israel is already Jewish, and should make peace with Palestine in order to secure Israel's future as a Jewish democracy. Today Yousef Munayyer wisely points out (in the NYTIMES) the horrifying fact that  "Palestinian babies in Israel are considered “demographic threats” by a state constantly battling to keep a Jewish majority.

So far Israel's supposed Jewishness is and has been a dangerous delusion.  It could have played out very differently had Israel welcomed home the Palestinian refugees sixty years ago, shaping a Jewish state out of the rule of fair and just laws: Israel could have and should have chosen to nurture freedom, justice and real democracy. 

Despite sovereign Israel's past failures to respect international law and the Palestinians' basic human rights a fully secular two state solution to once and for all end the Israel-Palestine conflict really is the best way forward for everyone's sake: Tax payers here and there should not be coerced into funding institutionalized bigotry and apartheid walls that fragment families and impoverish communities. 

Sincerely,
Anne Selden Annab

NOTES
The task before us is to make sure that no further nakbas, no more pogroms or unspeakable horrors, ever occur again

ATFP notes that, as the occupying power, Israel is responsible for protecting Palestinian civilians from attacks by settlers, which is an increasing and highly destabilizing phenomenon.

Open Zion....Hussein Ibish: Beware "Creative Alternatives"

Wasim Salfiti: My Family's History with Nakba

Palestinian Beauty... traditional costumes

Palestinian author Ibtisam Barakat "...and the world is at heart playful..."

Nakba and Memories (1967 War) By Mike Odetalla

Randa Jarrar: Imagining Myself in Palestine

Hanan Ashrawi: Recognizing Nakba, Reaching Peace

Haaretz Editorial: Nakba is part of Israel's history

Qalqiliya unveils 'train of return' to mark Nakba & Abbas applauds steadfastness on Nakba Day

The Key

Exodus 1948 التهجيرعام (19 photos)


The Arab Peace Initiative requests Israel to reconsider its policies and declare that a just peace is its strategic option as well...




"It's a simple dictum, but one that many still have trouble accepting: Israelis and Palestinians have to talk to each other if they're going to get anywhere." Hussein Ibish: We Need To Talk

Refugees and the Right of Return
Palestinian refugees must be given the option to exercise their right of return (as well as receive compensation for their losses arising from their dispossession and displacement) though refugees may prefer other options such as: (i) resettlement in third countries, (ii) resettlement in a newly independent Palestine (even though they originate from that part of Palestine which became Israel) or (iii) normalization of their legal status in the host country where they currently reside. What is important is that individual refugees decide for themselves which option they prefer a decision must not be imposed upon them.

UN Resolution 194 Article 11: [The General Assembly]
Resolves that the refugees wishing to return to their homes and live in peace with their neighbors should be permitted to do so at the earliest possible date, and that compensation should be paid for the property of those choosing not to return and for loss of or damage to property which, under principles of international law or in equity, should be made good by the governments or authorities responsible; instructs the Conciliation Commission to facilitate the repatriation, resettlement and economic and social rehabilitation of the refugees and the payment of compensation, and to maintain close relations with the Director of the United Nations Relief for Palestine Refugees and, through him, with the appropriate organs and agencies of the United Nations.



New York Times: Not All Israeli Citizens Are Equal by Yousef Munayyer

Palestine's Lydda in 1920 with St. George's Church in the background

****************
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/24/opinion/not-all-israeli-citizens-are-equal.html?_r=1


OP-ED CONTRIBUTOR

Not All Israeli Citizens Are Equal




I’M a Palestinian who was born in the Israeli town of Lod, and thus I am an Israeli citizen. My wife is not; she is a Palestinian from Nablus in the Israeli-occupied West Bank. Despite our towns being just 30 miles apart, we met almost 6,000 miles away in Massachusetts, where we attended neighboring colleges.
A series of walls, checkpoints, settlements and soldiers fill the 30-mile gap between our hometowns, making it more likely for us to have met on the other side of the planet than in our own backyard....READ MORE

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

ATFP notes that, as the occupying power, Israel is responsible for protecting Palestinian civilians from attacks by settlers, which is an increasing and highly destabilizing phenomenon.

"The images of Israeli soldiers standing side-by-side with armed settlers as they open fire on Palestinian villagers could not be more damaging to Israeli-Palestinian security cooperation, the atmosphere on the ground and the prospects for maintaining law and order. It is imperative that such behavior on the part of occupation forces not be repeated and that the Israeli authorities move quickly and decisively to curb settler violence and bring its perpetrators to justice. It is strongly in Israel's own interests, as well as the basic human rights of the Palestinian people, for settler violence to be suppressed, not tolerated or ignored." ATFP President Ziad J. Asali

 



Israeli settlers fire at Palestinians – video

Israelis from the West Bank settlement of Yitzhar fire at Palestinians from the town of Asira al-Qibliya on Saturday. Fires seen burning in the background were lit by settlers, according to Israeli NGO B'Tselem. A 24-year-old Palestinian is shot in the face. He is later treated in hospital and recovering from his injuries, according to the NGO
Israeli settler filmed firing gun at Palestinians

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Open Zion....Hussein Ibish: Beware "Creative Alternatives"

 [AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine] 
http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/05/17/beware-creative-alternatives.html


It's easy to understand why so many people are giving up on negotiations and a two-state solution, and instead are looking for “creative alternatives.” Israeli-Palestinian talks are at an impasse. The two sides haven't seemed this far apart since the second intifada. The number of settlers and settlements continues to baloon relentlessly. Israel's government appears united behind recalcitrant policies, while the Palestinians appear hopelessly divided.

But any purported “creative alternatives” to a negotiated two-state solution need to be subjected to a simple litmus test before they can be taken seriously. They have to be plausibly acceptable to all parties that would need to agree in order for them to be realized. If any such “alternatives” are by definition unacceptable to any of the parties, then they're not serious ideas. In most cases, they quickly reveal themselves to be thinly disguised versions of long-standing maximalist fantasies.
A man places a sticker on a car in Jerusalem. (Awad Awad / AFP / Getty Images)

Take, for instance, the perennial fantasy on the pro-Israeli right that “Jordan is Palestine” or that Egypt can somehow be induced to take responsibility for Gaza. Palestinians, Jordanians and Egyptians all categorically reject any such idea, so it can't happen.

Similarly, in pro-Palestinian circles the idea of a South Africa-style “one-state” solution of a single entity for all Israelis and Palestinians, including refugees, based on "one-person one-vote," is a total nonstarter for the overwhelming majority of Israelis. So that, too, simply won't happen.

Some of the most dangerous “creative alternatives” are being increasingly floated on the pro-Israeli right, especially the idea of a greater Israel including the occupied territories but without full or equal citizenship, or voting rights, for its Palestinian population. In other words, formalized, permanent apartheid...READ MORE

Wasim Salfiti: My Family's History with Nakba

Wasim Salfiti is a writer living in Washington, DC and frequently travels to the Middle East. He was an Editorial Fellow at Mother Jones Magazine and is a graduate of Columbia University and the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS). He speaks Arabic, Hebrew, English, and French. He was born to a Palestinian family and raised in Amman, Jordan.

 [AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine] 
This week, Palestinians around the world commemorated the Nakba, or "catastrophe," referring to the displacement of over 700,000 Palestinians at the time of Israel's founding in 1948. From the West Bank to the West Coast, protestors waved colorful flags and held signs demanding recognition for the plight and rights of the dispossessed.

Yet beneath the barrage of political symbols and slogans lies a human experience of heartache and loss, to which Americans of all backgrounds might possibly relate.

I was shielded from this experience as a child. In Amman, Jordan, where I grew up in the '80s, events across the ever-dwindling river were background noise. My friends at school mostly talked about last Thursday's party and the cute girls in class.

It was at an American summer arts camp, of all places, that I began to confront my family's ruptured past. At age 15, amid Michigan's woodlands and the sounds of Beethoven's Waldstein sonata, I made Jewish friends for the first time. At first, we mostly talked about music...READ MORE

Palestinian Beauty... traditional costumes

A 1980s UNRWA poster showing a classic Ramallah traditional costume  from the collection of Widad Kawar, Amman (Photo: M Nasr)
Child's quilt 1991 Jordan River Designs, Amman, showing contemporary use of the Palestinian heremezy appliqué technique (Palestine Costume Archive, Canberra)
Cover of Palestinian Heritage Foundation Video "Palestinian National Costume: preserving the heritage".
Postcard of a variety of Palestinian regional costume (pre 1948) from the collection of Maha Saca, Director, Palestinian Heritage Centre, Bethlehem.
Wedad Boutagy, a member of the Sydney Palestinian community, stands in front of an exhibition exhibition graphic showing her in a Jerusalem studio photograph as a young woman, at the opening night of the Archive's travelling exhibition "Portraits without names: Palestinian costume" at the Powerhouse Museum, Sydney, 1996.  The story of the Boutagy family was one of the diaspora stories told in the Sydney installation of the exhibition (courtesy: Powerhouse Museum).
Symbolic defiance: Palestinian costume and embroidery since 1948 travelling exhibition installation, showing intifada dresses designed by the ANAT Workshop, Yarmouk Refugee Camp, Syria, displayed at the First World Congress of Middle Eastern Studies, Mainz, Germany, 2002 (courtesy: Jeni Allenby)




A selection of cushions available through Sunbula including cross stitched cushions from the Bethlehem Arab women's Union (A, B, D and E) and the couched style of the Women's Child Care Society of Beit Jala (C). (image courtesy of Sunbula)

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Palestinian author Ibtisam Barakat "...and the world is at heart playful..."

I went to buy something and the lady behind the counter pulled out the newspaper from a month or so ago and asked me if I would sign my name next to the article about me as a Palestinian author :):) She has been keeping the newspaper until I showed up . . I have signed books and shoes and extended arms and necks and small pieces of paper including napkins and even chests for teenagers, but today I signed the newspaper for a lady doing paper work behind a counter :):) I did not have to show my ID . . This makes me laugh . . . I feel like a child each time such thing happens . . and I feel that all people are children . . . and the world is at heart playful . . .
Poet and author Ibtisam Barakat 2012 

Tasting the Sky

 Winner, Arab American National Museum Book Award for Children's/YA Literature, among other awards and honors.

In this groundbreaking memoir set in Ramallah during the aftermath of the 1967 Six-Day War, Ibtisam Barakat captures what it is like to be a child whose world is shattered by war. With candor and courage, she stitches together memories of her childhood: fear and confusion as bombs explode near her home and she is separated from her family; the harshness of  life as a Palestinian refugee; her unexpected joy when she discovers Alef, the first letter of the Arabic alphabet. This is the beginning of her passionate connection to words, and as language becomes her refuge, allowing her to piece together the fragments of her world, it becomes her true home.

Transcending the particulars of politics, this illuminating and timely book provides a telling glimpse into a little-known culture that has become an increasingly important part of the puzzle of world peace.

Nakba and Memories (1967 War) By Mike Odetalla


Nakba and Memories (1967 War)
By Mike Odetalla

May 15th. 2002 - The 54th anniversary of Nakba: the disaster of the people of Palestine. On this date, May 15th 1948, we, the people of Palestine began our long and painful journey into exile. Dispossessed from home and homeland, this was the start of the refugee ‘problem’ that still exists today. More than 3 million Palestinians live as refugees in squalid conditions in camps in Palestine and throughout the Arab world. I sat this week watching old black and white films of my people as they fled their homes, clutching children and what few possessions that they could carry, I could not help but realize that there, but for the grace of God, could easily have been my family as well. But I, it seems, have a different fate, a different responsibility: to tell our story, to document, so that it may never be forgotten.

Shortly after the June 1967 War began, the people of our village, Beit Hanina, realized with grim reality that the Israeli army would be coming here: the realization brought panic; people began to prepare to flee their homes. With memories of the atrocities of Deir Yasein and other Palestinian villages still vivid in their minds, they feared that massacres might once more be carried out. The gruesome stories of death and murder were known by all Palestinians, indeed, by all in the world who chose to know them.

It was against this backdrop that my mother decided to join our neighbors as they fled with their families to the surrounding caves in the hills overlooking our village. I recall my mother frantically trying to gather what she thought we would need and could manage to carry. She instructed me to go across our village and get my oldest sister, Aziza, who, married for a year, had given birth to her first child, a son, on May 20th, 1967. Running as fast as a six year old could, I reached her house and relayed the message. My sister instructed me to tell mom that she would follow us, with her husband, as soon as they were able to gather a few belongings. I returned home and assured my mother that Aziza and her family would join us soon.

Meanwhile, my mom decided that my second sister, Najah, a 13-year-old beauty with long, beautiful, blond hair and striking blue eyes, must be made to look like a boy. She feared for her safety if the Israeli soldiers should happen to come upon us. Grabbing a pair of scissors, she chopped away at that long, beautiful hair, and then she tossed some of my brother, Musa’s, clothes to wear. There! Now she looked just like a little boy.

When my sister, her husband, and infant son arrived, shortly before sunset, we took what we could carry and ran to the hills. After a long and arduous climb, we made our way to a large cave whose opening faced Jerusalem, providing a vantage point for viewing the battle raging in the distance. Already inside the cave were about 17 people, mostly women and children. We brought in our belongings and settled into a niche of the cave. Then, I made my way to the cave’s mouth and sat down to watch the "fireworks show" lighting the night sky. Fear and anxiety could be seen on all the faces of the adults inside, but the only noise was the crying of my infant nephew and the muffled weeping of the women who pondered our fate. We had left our homes and all we had behind, and now we were sharing our fate in a cave infested with snakes and scorpions.

Around midnight, when we’d been in the cave about 4 hours, my mother noticed an Israeli jet circling and buzzing the area of our cave, lit by a very bright, full moon. After a couple of more passes over our heads, my mom instructed us to gather our belongings and get out of the cave. Others pleaded with her, trying to convince her to stay: if she left in the full moon, she would be inviting the slaughter of her children. But, my mother refused to listen and grabbing me by the hand began walking with me away from the cave to a large olive tree about 50 meters away. My mother called out to those still in the cave, begging them to join us: she feared that the Israeli jet was about to strike. Slowly, they began to leave the cave and joined us under the olive trees. Just then, the jet reappeared: it made two passes, before, on the third, it fired two missiles into the mouth of the cave. The explosion and light was beyond anything I’d ever imagined; the ball of fire that blew out of the mouth of the cave was so terrifying that I still hear it today. I realized that, had we not listened to my mother, we would have blown to bits in the cave.

We stayed under the olive trees for about an hour, waiting, lest the jet returned; eventually we headed to the other side of the mountain to seek another cave. We found one whose mouth faced straight up to the sky. Once inside, one could go deeper in any direction. A child of 6, I was no stranger to the caves surrounding my village, none of us children were. We had spent glorious days playing there: flying kites; tagging along as the older boys hunted pheasants; climbing in the olive trees; eating the succulent grapes from the vines all around.

After a couple of days, the hunger and thirst began to set in: we were nearly 20 people in the cave; there was not enough food or water for everyone. My mom would sneak into the wheat fields and cut bunches of wheat stalks, still green in mid June. She brought back the stalks and roasted their soft, green grains over an open fire, then rubbed them together to make the roasted grains fall out so that she could give us the grains to eat. Hunger helps enrich the memory of the food we eat for a long time: I remember the taste of that grain to this day. (Author’s note: the practice of roasting green grain is still practiced over much of the Arab world. The grain is roasted and cracked before being cooked in a type of soup called "freaka", usually cooked with lamb or chicken.)

Today, I can’t help being mindful that we Palestinians have our own experiences with the unleavened bread - as is celebrated by the Jews who commemorate their exodus and freedom from Pharaoh. Except, of course, we commemorate our exodus and entry into Diaspora. The Palestinian women, anxious to feed their children, would slip into nearby abandoned homes looking for any kind of food to feed us. Once they returned with flour, water, sugar, and olive oil. They kneaded the dough and immediately baked it over a fire covered with the metal lid of a barrel, the lid providing the surface upon which the bread was baked: there was no time to wait for the dough to rise. As an adult, sharing the Jewish holiday of Passover, with my friends, I am drawn by powerful but ironic parallels between the Palestinian experience of running away in fear into the wilderness, chased by an army, looking for freedom, eating unleavened bread as we ran. For me, Pharaoh’s army was the Israel Defense Forces and we; the Palestinians were the persecuted Jews.

Not 40 years, but a mere 10 days had elapsed since we were forced to flee our homes. Still wearing the same clothes, the clothes, which we had left with, no bath since we fled, our situation was becoming desperate: there was no food or water. What little water we were able to get from the nearby wells was dangerously costly: some of the men had been shot and killed trying to draw water from those wells. Most of the people staying with us in the cave began to speak of heading for Jordan, about 30 Km to the east. We had heard that the Israelis were offering ‘safe passage’ to Palestinians fleeing to Jordan: indeed, the policy of the Israeli government was to ‘facilitating’ the movement of Palestinians into Jordan. My grandfather, uncles, their families, had all made their way to Jordan: none of my mother’s family had remained in Palestine. Still, my mother was hesitant to leave our home. The entire group, we among them, left the cave early that morning, in the already hot, blistering mid June sun. We tied a white piece of cloth to a stick, and marched behind it, a flag of surrender. A neighbor, an elderly gentleman of 75, took me by the hand, carefully instructing me to stay with him: if the Israeli soldiers came for him, I was to start crying and tell them he was my grandfather. He could barely walk without the aid of a cane; I clung to his hand and helped him walk the entire way. We headed due east to Jericho and Jordan. About 6 kilometers into our journey, we came across an abandoned home. The residents had left in a hurry for the door was wide open. One of the ladies went inside and returned a few minutes later with dried loaves of bread, several days old. My mom took a piece from her and gave it to me to eat. She then went to the remains of the vegetable garden and cut some green onions for me to eat with my stale bread. I had one hell of a time trying to swallow that mixture of green onions and stale bread, but my mother noticed and offered me a sip of precious water to help it down.

The sights and smells that greeted this 6 year old boy as we made our way toward Jordan, can never be forgotten: the bullet riddled bodies of Jordanian soldiers, and of Palestinian civilians, mostly women and young children; the putrid stench of the decaying bodies, bloated by the hot June sun. I noticed some medical personnel wearing masks drenched in perfume, trying to bury some of the bodies. My mom urged me not to look, to keep walking, but I could not obey: death and destruction were all around and sometimes; I still see these images in my sleep.

We walked for another 3 hours and suddenly, my mom stopped. She told us we were going to head back: she feared that if we did get to Jordan, we would never be allowed to return home. There was no one to help us in Jordan: our only option there would be a refugee camp. My mom refused the prospect of condemning her family to a refugee camp for the rest of their lives.

Against all the protestations of our fellow refugees, my mother turned us around and headed back to Beit Hanina. The others tried to tell her that she would get herself and her children killed, but she wouldn’t hear any of it. About half of the people with us joined her lead and headed back into Palestine, the rest joined the long, steady stream of refugees headed for Jordan: parents carrying children, men carrying the elderly, poor people clutching their meager belongings. We were human beings, in great pain, trekking in fear and in search of sanctuary. Most were never allowed to return to their homes in Palestine. Some managed to sneak back, but most become refugees in Jordan. My aunt and uncles were among those stranded in Jordan.

The pictures of the “humane” Israeli army helping people across the Allenby Bridge into Jordan, make great propaganda: the Israeli soldiers carried children across collapsed bridges - a very powerful image for the world to see: I, too, see them helping the poor Palestinian refugees flee, but I also see that this was the intent of the Israeli government –which was fully aware that their job was to maximize the number of Palestinians “ethnically cleansed” from Palestine by helping them to cross over into Jordan. The Israeli government had no intent of ever allowing these people to return to their homes. The Israeli soldiers were not performing humanitarian aid to refugees: they were carrying out the orders to transfer Palestinians out of Palestine. They were merely expediting the departure of the Palestinians, and getting good press from it at the same time. This past month, 35 years later, and the world is again witnessing refugees on the move in Palestine. The pain and anger has resurfaced as if they had never died: old wounds not yet allowed healing.…

Mike Odetalla. Copyright 2002-2011. All rights reserved.
— in Palestine.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Randa Jarrar: Imagining Myself in Palestine

May 14, 2012
On a recent trip to Israel, Randa Jarrar gets detained, denied entry, and sent to 'the Arab Room.'
 
 [AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine] 

Image from Flickr via Rusty Stewart

Trouble began weeks before I boarded my flight to Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion Airport. I had heard horror stories about a detention area there, dubbed The Arab Room, and in my anxious and neurotic style, I had emailed a dozen people—American academics and artists of Arab, Indian, Jewish, and European descent— and asked them what I was supposed to tell the immigration officers at Ben Gurion once I arrived. They all wanted to know if I was using my American passport, and I assured them that I was. The vast majority told me not to tell the officers I would be staying at my sister’s in Ramallah. They said this would cause trouble, and offered up the names of friends and family for my use. The generosity of people poured in, and I was advised to say that I was staying with this writer, or that visual artist, or this former-IDF soldier—people I had never met, but who had volunteered themselves to be my proxy hosts. A friend of mine, who is a phenomenal photojournalist, gave me her phone number and said to tell the officers I would be staying with her, and I agreed. She told me to prepare for the officers to call her themselves once I gave them her number, as this is something they are known to do.

I was so afraid of facing the guards at the airport that I had a difficult time imagining the rest of my trip. I would picture myself walking around Ramallah with my sister, or attending a concert, or visiting my aunts, or seeing the separation wall, or staying at the American Colony Hotel for an evening, and I would draw a blank. There was a wall there, too, between my thoughts and Palestine.

Growing up, my Palestinian identity was mostly tied to my father. He was the Palestinian in the family, and when we went back to the West Bank it was to see his brothers and sisters and parents. We always entered Palestine through Amman, crossing the Allenby Bridge over the river Jordan and waiting in endless inspection lines. I remember these trips dragging on through morning and midday and well into the afternoon. My father would sit quietly, and when I complained my Egyptian mother would tell me that the Israelis made it difficult for us to cross into the West Bank. She told me that they wanted us to give up, that they would prefer we never go back. “We must not let them win,” she’d said. My relationship with my Palestinian identity was cemented when I enrolled in a PLO-sponsored girls’ camp as a tween. We learned nationalistic songs and dances and created visual art that reflected our understanding of the occupation. After my family and I moved to America in 1991, my Palestinian identity shifted again, and I began to see myself as an Arab-American. My father’s fiery rants on Palestine died out when Yitzak Rabin was murdered by a Jewish-Israeli extremist. I remember my father weeping in our American wood-paneled den. He said that Rabin had been the Palestinians’ last chance.

When my sister got a job in Ramallah last year, teaching music to children, I knew I would want to visit her. I had not been to Palestine since 1993. I had planned to go back in the summer of 1996, but I was pregnant and unmarried. My parents did not want to speak to me, let alone take me with them, in such a shameful condition, to the West Bank. I never went back with family after that. I led my own life....READ MORE

Hanan Ashrawi: Recognizing Nakba, Reaching Peace

Hanan Ashrawi, head of the PLO’s Department of Culture and Information
 [AS ALWAYS PLEASE GO TO THE LINK TO READ GOOD ARTICLES IN FULL: HELP SHAPE ALGORITHMS (and conversations) THAT EMPOWER DECENCY, DIGNITY, JUSTICE & PEACE... and hopefully Palestine]

May is the cruelest month despite the promise of spring. It carries the bitter memories of ongoing loss and injustice for a nation, my nation. Every year, Palestinians mark Al-Nakba, or the Catastrophe, of 1948, to remember how our vibrant society was physically and politically crushed by violence and forced expulsion.
 
It was not a natural disaster. Indeed, we have no doubt that itwasa detailed plan of systematic destruction carried out with chilling efficiency. It was the biggest assault and threat Palestinian heritage has ever endured and the beginning of a deliberate effort to suppress the Palestinian narrative.  

For many Israelis, recognizing what happened back in 1948 is a painful process. The slogan “Your independence is our Nakba”, which is on display in many Palestinian cities is indeed correct. Many Israeli historians have researched and written about this dark era, demonstrating that Palestine was a land with a vibrant society and rich culture. These brave historians ended decades of denial about Palestinian society and suffering.  

By 1948, Palestine was one of the most developed Arab societies, boasting one of the healthiest economies under the British mandate and a high school enrolment rate, second only to Lebanon. Commerce, the arts, literature, music, and other cultural aspects of life were thriving in Palestine. 

We remember that between 1911 and 1948, Palestine had no less than 161 newspapers, magazines and other regular publications, including the pioneer “Falastin” newspaper, published in Jaffa by Issa al-Issa. 

Dozens of bookstores across the country selling hundreds of Palestinian and internationally-authored books could hardly keep up with the demand. Books like “The Arab Woman and the Palestine Problem” by Matiel Moghannam, a feminist leader, and George Antonious’ “The Arab Awakening”, were highly popular in Palestine, England, the US, and beyond. 

Palestine had a strong women’s movement as early as the 1920’s. Women excelled in many fields, including education, journalism, and political activism. Women activists were among the first to lobby for Palestinian self-determination at the beginning of the British Mandate. 

Palestinian dedication to education is deeply rooted in our culture. By 1914, there were 379 private schools in Palestine, including the country’s first girls’ school, Al Moscobiye, in Beit Jala, founded in 1858 as the first school for girls in Palestine, and the Friends School, founded by the Quakers in 1869, which continues to be among the most advanced education institutions in Palestine. 

In the area of arts, music, and drama, Palestinian creativity was boundless, inspiring artists around the region. Composers like Yehya Al-Lababidi collaborated with famous Arab singers of the time, like Farid Al-Atrach. Other singers like the legendary Um Kalthoum and Mohamad Abdel Wahab regularly performed to Palestinian audiences in Haifa, Jaffa, and Jerusalem. Our cinemas, from Gaza to Akka, were showing the latest films of the time. 

Al-Nakba represents the abrupt and unnatural disruption of these accomplishments and signaled the beginning of a culture of exile and dispossession. In being forcibly expelled from their homes, Palestinians lost their properties, personal history, and cultural assets. 

This included thousands of books. In West Jerusalem alone, 30,000 books were “collected” from Palestinian houses, as well as around 50,000 other books from homes in Jaffa, Haifa, Tiberias and Nazareth. Khalil Sakakini was one of those people who lost his entire library. A number of his books can be found today in the National Library of Israel, marked ‘AP’, meaning “Abandoned Property.” 

Al-Nakba is therefore not merely a historical date to be commemorated.  It is the collective memory of Palestinians, which shapes their identity as a people. Al-Nakba is not a distant memory but a painful reality that continues to fester, as the rights of refugees continue to be denied and the inalienable rights of our nation remain unfulfilled. 

It is time to recognize that Al-Nakba is as real for Palestinians as it should be for Israelis. It is an inescapable story of loss, dispossession and a great historic injustice that targeted the most precious characteristic of any people: its identity. 

But Al-Nakba to Palestinians is not about defeat. Stripping the Palestinian people of their national and cultural symbols, as well as stunting the growth of Palestinian cultural life was a merciless crime, no doubt. But our people have persevered, rebuilding, time and again, their heritage of cultural and educational excellence. 

There have been many new challenges and setbacks since Al-Nakba, especially the military occupation that began in 1967 and its oppressive policies targeting culture and education. But Palestinians kept marching forward, holding on to the proud memories of excellence and building new ones. 

For peace to prevail, for two states to live side by side, for a future of security and prosperity to begin in the region, Israel should not be afraid to recognize Al-Nakba and learn the lessons of its history. Israel must come to recognize its historic accountability in creating Al-Nakba for neither denial nor distortion can serve the cause of peace.  

Genuine recognition is a sine qua non for the process of historical redemption. Peace is a phase of healing that must be established on truth, justice, transparency, and equality. There is no other formula. By recognizing our historical narrative and suffering, Israel will be embarking on a true journey for a just and comprehensive peace.
 
Dr. Hanan Ashrawi is a member of the PLO Executive Committee and head of the PLO’s Department of Culture and Information