The Dominion - Ramzy Baroud

People Power in Gaza

dru — Sat, 02 Feb 2008 09:21:36 +0000

Palestinians descend on border, break Israeli blockade

Prior to the US invasion of Iraq, interviewer David Barsamian asked Noam Chomsky what ordinary Americans could do to stop the war. Chomsky answered, "In some parts of the world people never ask, 'what can we do?' They simply do it."

For someone who was born and raised in a refugee camp in Gaza, Chomsky's seemingly oblique response required no further elucidation.

When Gazans recently stormed the strip's sealed border with Egypt, Chomsky's comment returned to mind, along with memories of the still relevant--and haunting--past.

In 1989, the Bureej refugee camp was experiencing a strict military curfew, as punishment for the killing of one Israeli soldier. The soldier's car had broken down in front of the camp while he was on his way home to a Jewish settlement. Bureej had previously lost hundreds of its people to the Israeli army and killing the soldier was an unsurprising act of retaliation.

In the weeks that followed, scores of Palestinians in Bureej were murdered and hundreds of homes were demolished. The killing spree generated little media coverage in Israel.

I lived with my family in an adjacent refugee camp, Nuseirat, at the time. Characterised by extreme poverty, it was a natural home for much of the Palestinian resistance movement. Our house was located a few feet away from what was known as the 'Graveyard of the Martyrs'. It was an area of high elevation that the local children often used to watch the movement of Israeli tanks as they began their daily incursion into the camp. We whistled or yelled every time we spotted the soldiers, and used sign language to communicate as we hid behind the simple graves.

Although watching, yelling and whistling were the only means of response at our disposal, they were far from safe. My friends Ala, Raed, Wael and others were all killed in these daily encounters

During Bureej's most lethal curfew, the sound of explosions coming from the doomed camp reached us at Nuseirat. The people of my camp became engulfed in endless discussions which were neither factional nor theoretical. People were being brutally murdered, injured or impoverished, while the Red Cross was blocked from accessing the camp. Something had to be done.

And all of a sudden it was. Not as a result of any polemic endorsed by intellectuals or "action calls" initiated at conferences, but as an unstructured, spur-of-the-moment act undertaken by a few women in my refugee camp. They simply started a march into Bureej, and were soon joined by other women, children and men. Within an hour, thousands of refugees made their way into the besieged neighbouring camp. "What's the worst they could do?" a neighbour asked, trying to collect his courage before joining the march. "The soldiers will not be able to kill more than a hundred before we overpower them."

Israeli soldiers stood dumbfounded before the chanting multitudes. While many marchers were wounded only one was killed. The soldiers eventually retreated to their barricades. UN vehicles and Red Cross ambulances sheltered themselves amidst the crowd and together they broke the siege.

I still remember the scene of Bureej residents first opening the shutters of their windows, then carefully cracking their doors, stepping out of their homes in a state of disbelief breaking into joy. My memory--of the chants, the tears, the dead being rushed to be buried, the wounded hauled on the many hands that came to the rescue, the strangers sharing food and good wishes--reaffirms the event as one of the greatest acts of human solidarity I have witnessed.

The scene was to be repeated time and again, during the first and Second Palestinian Uprising: ordinary people carrying out what seemed like an ordinary act in response to extraordinary injustice.

The father who lost his son to free Bureej told the crowd: "I am happy that my son died so that many more could live."

Later than day, our refugee camp fell under a most strict military curfew, to relive Bureej's recent nightmare. We were neither surprised nor regretful. We had known the right thing to do and "we simply did it."

Now Palestinian women, once more, have led Palestinian civil society in a most meaningful and rewarding way. Just when Israeli defence minister Ehud Barak was being congratulated for successfully starving Palestinians in Gaza to submission, ordinary women led a march to break the tight siege imposed on Gaza.

On Tuesday, January 22, they descended on the Gaza-Egypt border and what followed was a moment of pride and shame: pride for those ever-dignified people refusing to surrender, and shame that the so-called international community allowed the humiliation of an entire people to the extent that forced hungry mothers to brave batons, tear gas and military police in order to perform such basic acts as buying food, medicine and milk.

The next day, the courage of these women inspired the same audacity that the original batch of women in my refugee camp inspired nearly twenty years ago. Nearly half of the Gaza Strip population crossed the border in a collective push for mere survival. And when people march in unison, there is no worldly force, however deadly, that can block their way.

This "largest jailbreak in history", as one commentator described it, will be carved in Palestinian and world memory for years to come. In some circles it will be endlessly analysed, but for Palestinians in Gaza, it is beyond rationalization: it simply had to be done.

Armies can be defeated but human spirit cannot be subdued. Gaza's act of collective courage is one of the greatest acts of civil disobedience of our time, akin to civil rights marches in America during the 1960's, South Africa's anti-Apartheid struggle, and more recently the protests in Burma.

Palestinian people have succeeded where politics and thousands of international appeals have failed. They took matters into their own hands and they prevailed. While this is hardly the end of Gaza's suffering, it is a reminder that people's power to act is just too significant to be overlooked.

Ramzy Baroud (www.ramzybaroud.net) is an author and editor of PalestineChronicle.com. His work has been published in many newspapers and journals worldwide. His latest book is The Second Palestinian Intifada: A Chronicle of a People's Struggle (Pluto Press, London).

Gazans cross into Egypt to buy supplies

Israeli Patrol in Gaza

Freedom for Alan Johnston

dru — Sat, 28 Apr 2007 21:40:49 +0000

Freedom for Us All

In Trafalgar Square in London, dozens of journalists representing every major news organization descended on a designated corner in the tourist-infested area in support of Alan Johnston, the BBC correspondent kidnapped in Gaza on March 12, 2006. The gathering took place one month after his ordeal began.

Awaiting the arrival of Alan’s family to a press conference organized by Reporters without Borders, I stood alongside a few activists. My nervous smiles, interrupted by brief statements to inquiring journalists, could hardly hide my utter feelings of shame. It’s not often that I feel this way, taking part in a solidarity event in support of anyone. This time was different, however, despite all attempts to distance oneself from responsibility. “Alan, they are not from amongst us,” read the banners held by hundreds of journalists gathering in Ramallah in the West Bank in a show of support for Alan on the same day we gathered in London. The unfortunate fact is that while the kidnappers were not exactly elected representatives of the Palestinian people, mostly known for their unparalleled generosity, warmth and kindness to strangers, they were exactly what that banner tried to refute; they were a rational outcome of the state of chaos, corruption and overt militarism that has plagued Palestinian society for years. Indeed, they were from amongst us, and there is now denial of that.

In times like these, reporters care little for details. All they seek are a few soundbites, preceded by an intense introduction and a snappy finish, and consequently a TV news report is made. I had to accommodate. “These kidnappers don’t represent the Palestinian people, and I call on the Palestinian government to do its utmost to free Alan, whose professional reporting and unprecedented objectivity is a rarity in the age of polarized media,” I told a Spanish newspaper.

Then Alan’s family arrived; they were the most unthreatening and kind-looking group of people one could ever encounter. Alan’s father, Graham, an older version of his son, dressed in a dark suit, his belly sticking out slightly, and a voice proud yet somehow broken. "Chin up, my son," he told Alan, hoping that the message would reach him somehow. Then to the kidnappers, “You have family. Please think about what this is doing to my family, including in particular the distress and deep concern Alan's mother and sister have had to endure for all these long weeks. As I have said before, please let my son go now, today."

A Palestinian with links superior to mine in the Occupied Territories leaned and whispered in my ear. “Why must these depraved individuals (referring to the kidnappers) keep placing us in these tough spots? What is even more bizarre about all of this is that everyone in Gaza knows who the kidnappers are.”

Everyone in Gaza knows, I was told, including the authorities, and even the BBC received some heads- up. He named names, elaborated on the demands of the kidnappers, who belonged to a powerful clan, affiliated with some people in Fatah, the once-leading Palestinian resistance movement which slowly evolved into an impressive network, a power-hungry batch of individuals, factions, sub-factions, clans and so forth, a great source of national fragmentation and political discord. It turned out that other people at the press event had similar information. The kidnappers are apparently asking for $5 million US and loads of ammunitions. My friend believes that Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas must agree to the demands, to keep the rogue elements in his party in line; clan wars in Gaza tend to be politically taxing.

As journalists petered out following Alan’s parents' departure, and as Trafalgar Square returned to its cheerful self, there was nothing left but the large poster carrying Alan’s photo, which was unfurled earlier that day, and scores of doves reclaiming their space at centre-stage.

How did we end up where we are? I asked myself as I too left the square, and Alan, behind. How could our struggle for freedom, for justice and for rights be so utterly reduced to an active state of civil war, factional clashes and constant cries for aid, and how could our narrative, our entire narrative, be so effortlessly hijacked, and now dictated by mere gangsters, vying for power and money?

Alan’s ordeal has lasted longer than other journalists and aid workers kidnapped in Gaza since chaos ensued in the Strip nearly two years ago, but most notably following the Hamas victory in January 2006. Israel ensured that it left formidable allies in the area who acted to ensure that Israel’s narrative prevails, even after its ‘withdrawal’ from the devastatingly poor strip. And so the narrative goes. Palestinians are not capable of governing themselves, and thus, in hindsight, four decades of Israeli occupation is justified and Israel’s current illegal military occupation of the West Bank and East Jerusalem is vindicated. Those allies held true to their purpose, and have wreaked havoc since the withdrawal.

The advent of Hamas, a well regarded and anti-corruption group changed nothing; it in fact precipitated the political fragmentation that defined the Palestinian struggle since the Oslo accords in 1993, and even before. Israel’s active military onslaughts, since Hamas's electoral victory, have killed hundreds, and the US political and economic embargoes weakened the Palestinian front like never before. But the truth must be told: political cohesion was hardly a quality that Palestinians had ever enjoyed. They were too vulnerable, too receptive to pressure, which made their various leaderships, especially the pro-Israel camp -- as galling as this term may sound -- as flexible as clay, shaped by skilled Israeli hands and positioned wherever they were most useful.

But how can we claim that they are not from amongst us? How can we claim that they don’t represent us if we lack the political will to confront them? And when Alan is freed, as he must be, who will free us, Palestinians, from this destructive path on which we tread?

Trafalgar Square is so distant, teeming yet so lonesome, but Alan’s friendly face continues to spur a sense of hope.

Ramzy Baroud is an author and a journalist. His latest volume: The Second Palestinian Intifada: A Chronicle of a People’s Struggle (Pluto Press, London) is available from Amazon and other booksellers.

Alan Johnston Vigil, Brussels

Redefining the Middle East

hillarybain — Tue, 13 Mar 2007 20:58:56 +0000

The US must change its direction in the Middle East

It may be convenient to perceive the Middle East as a politically charged, fractious region, rife with conflicts and disputes, and void of many prospects, save those leading to even further uncertainty and turmoil.

While history is indeed rich with instances that would effortlessly validate such a notion, only disinterested minds would fail to appreciate the immense role played by great European and now American powers in painting such a grim portrait of a region that once served as the cradle of great civilizations.

The seemingly innocent classification of the Middle East as this cohesive, yet inherently violent entity is consistent with utterly militaristic and chauvinistic views constructed by numerous Western scholars, diplomats and military men, whose attempt to reduce a vast, diverse and intricate region has been compelled primarily by their countries’ imperialist drive and hunger for territorial and political control.

This imperialist view of the world is understandably simplistic. Appreciating the depth and beauty of a potentially exploitable region can lead to costly hesitation, a recipe for a loss that empires, by definition in need of growth and expansion, cannot afford. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that the historic Israeli view of Palestinians -- either the total denial of their existence, or at best the recognition of a far inferior breed of human -- was more or less shaped around the same theme applied in a variety of global historic contexts: Native Americans as “uncivilized,” Central American natives as “heathens,” Australian Aboriginals as “wild dogs” and so forth. Perhaps Palestinians, Native Americans, Mayans and Aboriginals did not have a great deal in common, but their conquerors certainly did: infinite interest in the land and utter disinterest in its indigenous inhabitants.

But why is this notion more relevant today in the Middle East than ever before? Perhaps because some Western powers, led by the United States and Britain, insist on ignoring valuable lessons provided by history and refuse to accept that the world around them is changing; that classic imperialism has already demonstrated its remarkable failure and ineffectuality.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, they still speak of a looming victory in Iraq; they still hope for a submissive Palestinian populace who would be forced to surrender to Israel’s dictates; of a sheepish Iran who would beg for mercy at the first threat of being referred to the Security Council; and of a gullible Arab populace eager to throw flowers at the feet of the conquerors. Not only are such fantasies unlikely to actualize, but they are also utterly condescending and reek of racism.

In the American case, the over-simplification, thus the undermining of the complexities of the Iraqis, the Iranians and countless other nations, exhibits an appalling level of foolishness that continues to expose itself in the perpetual war in Iraq and the recent conflict with Iran. The American public was simply fed the original lie that created false links between the terrorist attacks of September 11 with various countries across the Middle East; the Pentagon was entrusted in a perpetual military drive, as self-serving, detached and inexperienced neoconservative clusters were told to lead a mindless campaign that has already proven to be an unmatched historic liability.

As some neocons are now distancing themselves from the Iraq disaster and are lining up for teaching jobs at prestigious American universities-- the latest being Douglas Feith-- others are pushing unreservedly for yet another crusade in Iran, accusing the military of mishandling the Iraq venture and ignoring the real menace to the east. Iran, not Iraq is the real danger, parrot pro-war pundits tirelessly.

If it’s too much to expect American experts to appreciate the disastrous British experience in Iraq a century ago, is it too much to expect the US to draw its lessons from Iraq before igniting another costly conflict in Iran? Seemingly it is. In fact, according to some “leading experts” in the very influential American Enterprise Institute, the Iraq war has already been won. One of their leading figures, Danielle Pletka, said in an interview that many Iranians keep complaining to her: "It’s not fair that you liberated the Iraqis and not us."

Pletka is credited by some for bringing dissident Iraqi figure Ahmad Chalabi into the spotlight after exaggerating his political clout. Chalabi fed the neocons with the lies they needed to make their drive for war possible. Yet when the war proved disastrous, all fingers pointed to Chalabi for misleading the US government.

The US government may wish to carry on with its fantasies and Blair’s new government may trod along as well. The fact of the matter is, the Middle East is eager to define itself according to its own terms and aspirations. It’s neither middle, nor an east and is not destined to eternal violence and chaos. The imperialist West needs to appreciate the complexities of this region, its richness and its growing potential. It needs to abandon the old Israeli view that "Arabs only understand the language of violence."

If the US government wishes to escape its miserable fate in that region, it must redefine its relationship with the Middle East: replacing militancy with diplomacy, coercion with dialogue and racism with partnership. Either that, or uncertainty and chaos will continue to define the region and define those foolish enough to perceive the Middle East through trite clichés and meaningless slogans.

Arab American journalist Ramzy Baroud teaches mass communication at Australia’s Curtin University of Technology, Malaysia Campus. He is the author of Writings on the Second Palestinian Intifada: A Chronicle of a People’s Struggle.

Road Signs in Palestine