Remembering Exile
Palestinians Born in Exile
We will never forget!
The Zionist talk about the devastation of their holocaust and how terrible being in exile is/was or how the Nazi’s treated them, but what is more ironic they did not learn anything but instead do it to the people of Palestine; they should be in disgrace or very ashamed!
Palestinians Lost Homes and Homeland But Not Their History
Opinion Editorials
By George Bisharat
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Fifty-seven years ago today, as one nation was created, another was destroyed. By Israel's Independence Day – May 14, 1948 – hundreds of thousands of Palestinians had already fled or were forced into exile by Israeli troops in a coordinated plan that has been well documented.
The Palestinians' only fault was that they were not Jewish and, by their presence and predominant ownership of the land, were obstacles to the creation of a Jewish state.
The catastrophe – or "Nakba," as it is called by Palestinians – eventually swept more than 700,000 Palestinians from their homes and homeland. That is the history of the establishment of Israel that is often forgotten in the United States but is stubbornly remembered by Palestinians.
Why do Palestinians who lost their homes, and who have been barred by Israel from returning ever since, remember their pre-exile lives with such enduring intensity? What does it signify that this tradition of remembering has now been transmitted to generations of Palestinians who were born in exile and have known their old homes and villages only from yellowed and crumbling photographs, like shadows left by a passing sun?
For me, my family and many Palestinians, this tradition of remembering is not a simple nostalgia for the past or a longing for a period that can never be reproduced. It is a prescription for the future.
My paternal grandfather, Hanna Ibrahim Bisharat, built a home in the Talbiyeh quarter of Jerusalem in 1926. Although a Christian, my grandfather named his new home Villa Harun ar-Rashid, in honor of a celebrated Muslim caliph who was renowned for his passion for justice, generosity and love of learning.
My grandfather had been educated in a Catholic school in Jerusalem and was sent to Switzerland to study agricultural engineering. He returned home before the outbreak of World War I brimming with naïve optimism. My family's relations with Jews during the pre-1948 period were entirely friendly. Jews were, like all others, members of Jerusalem society and entitled to treatment no different from any others.
My family was not oblivious to the shifting political currents in Palestine. My grandfather, who had become prominent in Palestinian society, attended the deliberations at the United Nations over Resolution 181, the partition plan for Palestine, in 1947. While he had welcomed Jews in his home and country as equals, he opposed the creation of a Jewish state that would marginalize if not exclude him from his own land.
Our home in Jerusalem, like those of hundreds of thousands of other Palestinians, was taken over by Zionist military forces in 1948 and has remained in Israeli hands for 57 years. Israeli reactions were alternately sobering and inspiring, ranging from crude racism and warnings to heartfelt expressions of sympathy and respect. A recurrent theme, however, even among the most compassionate, was the assertion that, in resolving issues between Palestinians and Israelis, "we cannot go back to the past," and, indeed, that we Palestinians must forget the past.
It struck me as ironic that such an admonition could issue from people whose claimed attachment to Palestine goes back 2,000 years. Who can remember and who can be made to forget becomes fundamentally an outgrowth and enactment of power. Our remembering, then, is a form of continuing resistance to the defamation and erasure of our people and history.
But remembering Talbiyeh of the pre-1948 period is more than a form of resistance. Recalling that era and the people it produced involves envisioning a possibility for another future. Talbiyeh was a place of tolerance, compassion and enlightenment; its sons and daughters cosmopolitan, broad-minded and welcoming.
In recalling and claiming this heritage, we are also promising that when Israelis are ready to recognize Palestinians in their full humanity, as no lesser beings than themselves, we will be there, in all our ingenuity, imagination, strength and, ultimately, even love.
GeorgeBisharat is a professor of law at Hastings College of the Law in San Francisco and writes frequently on law and politics in the Middle East. His e-mail address is bisharat@uchastings.edu.
Link:
Palestinians Born in Exile
THE HANDSTAND
Two generations later, Palestinians have hopes for their land
We will never forget!
The Zionist talk about the devastation of their holocaust and how terrible being in exile is/was or how the Nazi’s treated them, but what is more ironic they did not learn anything but instead do it to the people of Palestine; they should be in disgrace or very ashamed!
Palestinians Lost Homes and Homeland But Not Their History
Opinion Editorials
By George Bisharat
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Fifty-seven years ago today, as one nation was created, another was destroyed. By Israel's Independence Day – May 14, 1948 – hundreds of thousands of Palestinians had already fled or were forced into exile by Israeli troops in a coordinated plan that has been well documented.
The Palestinians' only fault was that they were not Jewish and, by their presence and predominant ownership of the land, were obstacles to the creation of a Jewish state.
The catastrophe – or "Nakba," as it is called by Palestinians – eventually swept more than 700,000 Palestinians from their homes and homeland. That is the history of the establishment of Israel that is often forgotten in the United States but is stubbornly remembered by Palestinians.
Why do Palestinians who lost their homes, and who have been barred by Israel from returning ever since, remember their pre-exile lives with such enduring intensity? What does it signify that this tradition of remembering has now been transmitted to generations of Palestinians who were born in exile and have known their old homes and villages only from yellowed and crumbling photographs, like shadows left by a passing sun?
For me, my family and many Palestinians, this tradition of remembering is not a simple nostalgia for the past or a longing for a period that can never be reproduced. It is a prescription for the future.
My paternal grandfather, Hanna Ibrahim Bisharat, built a home in the Talbiyeh quarter of Jerusalem in 1926. Although a Christian, my grandfather named his new home Villa Harun ar-Rashid, in honor of a celebrated Muslim caliph who was renowned for his passion for justice, generosity and love of learning.
My grandfather had been educated in a Catholic school in Jerusalem and was sent to Switzerland to study agricultural engineering. He returned home before the outbreak of World War I brimming with naïve optimism. My family's relations with Jews during the pre-1948 period were entirely friendly. Jews were, like all others, members of Jerusalem society and entitled to treatment no different from any others.
My family was not oblivious to the shifting political currents in Palestine. My grandfather, who had become prominent in Palestinian society, attended the deliberations at the United Nations over Resolution 181, the partition plan for Palestine, in 1947. While he had welcomed Jews in his home and country as equals, he opposed the creation of a Jewish state that would marginalize if not exclude him from his own land.
Our home in Jerusalem, like those of hundreds of thousands of other Palestinians, was taken over by Zionist military forces in 1948 and has remained in Israeli hands for 57 years. Israeli reactions were alternately sobering and inspiring, ranging from crude racism and warnings to heartfelt expressions of sympathy and respect. A recurrent theme, however, even among the most compassionate, was the assertion that, in resolving issues between Palestinians and Israelis, "we cannot go back to the past," and, indeed, that we Palestinians must forget the past.
It struck me as ironic that such an admonition could issue from people whose claimed attachment to Palestine goes back 2,000 years. Who can remember and who can be made to forget becomes fundamentally an outgrowth and enactment of power. Our remembering, then, is a form of continuing resistance to the defamation and erasure of our people and history.
But remembering Talbiyeh of the pre-1948 period is more than a form of resistance. Recalling that era and the people it produced involves envisioning a possibility for another future. Talbiyeh was a place of tolerance, compassion and enlightenment; its sons and daughters cosmopolitan, broad-minded and welcoming.
In recalling and claiming this heritage, we are also promising that when Israelis are ready to recognize Palestinians in their full humanity, as no lesser beings than themselves, we will be there, in all our ingenuity, imagination, strength and, ultimately, even love.
GeorgeBisharat is a professor of law at Hastings College of the Law in San Francisco and writes frequently on law and politics in the Middle East. His e-mail address is bisharat@uchastings.edu.
Link:
Palestinians Born in Exile
THE HANDSTAND
Two generations later, Palestinians have hopes for their land
posted by HRM Deborah of Israel and the Messenger of Peace at 7:00 PM
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