Last week, Israel barred a UNESCO fact-finding mission from entering the country, charging that the Palestinians had ‘politicized’ the mission before it had even arrived. The mission was tasked with looking into conditions of historical sites in the Old City of Jerusalem, something Israel apparently found to be very threatening.

Looking at the state of Jerusalem’s eastern sector today, it is understandable why Israel would not want UNESCO or anyone else walking around the Old City, especially the Palestinian-populated parts of it. Because anyone who does, will see the devastation that Israel and its settlers have wreaked on one of the oldest and most beautiful cities in the world.

Excavation works are being conducted in and around the Aqsa Mosque to make way for more Jewish construction at the place where Waqf authorities say Ottoman and Abbasid artifacts have long been tucked away. A Muslim graveyard is being dug up just outside the Old City’s Jaffa Gate, to build – ironically – a museum of tolerance. Today, two stores were forcefully taken over by Jewish settlers in Al Hakari, one of the neighborhoods in the Muslim quarter and every day, it seems that more and more homes are either being demolished by Israeli municipality authorities or being taken over by Jewish settlers.

The “Judiazation” of Jerusalem is a term many Palestinians and Arabs use for what Israel is doing in the city. In a nutshell, it is the long-term plan Israel is gradually carrying out to change the Arab Palestinian character of Jerusalem. This means demolishing old and historical structures, displacing Palestinians, handing over their homes to settlers and trying to erase the Palestinian or Arab history of the city.

The sad truth is that, on the surface, Israel has succeeded in this to a large extent. Pockets of Jewish settlers now live in the heart of Muslim quarters and aim to take over more and more. Sheikh Jarrah, one of the more affluent Palestinian neighborhoods of Jerusalem, is now pierced with Jewish flags waving from homes that have been wrestled from their Palestinian owners, and Israel’s light rail train cuts right down through Palestinian neighborhoods outside of the city center. The train, of course, is not meant to service the Palestinian population but rather to connect Jewish neighborhoods and settlements in the city, but the area confiscated from Shufat and Beit Hanina for its construction simply fell into the plan.

What the UNESCO mission would not have seen even if they made it into the Old City is the overall humiliation that the Palestinian population of Jerusalem must endure on a daily basis because of Israel’s military occupation. Trips to the Israeli ministry of interior must be made just to prove that one lives in the city for fear that their residency rights may be revoked; young Palestinian men are stopped randomly by Israeli soldiers to check their ID cards or just to harass them, and settlers are always given the luxury of maximum security whenever they walk the streets. If settlers want to march through the city, the Palestinians are told to close their shops, are barred for hours from reaching their homes if they run along the path of the march and are always the ones blamed if any kind of confrontation between the two sides breaks out.

Jerusalem is being squeezed by these measures more and more each day. But there is always that glimmer of hope, that strength that shines through proving that all is not lost. On Shavuot, Israeli settlers and extremists poured into the Old City, singing loudly, banging on the shop doors and waving huge Israeli flags. The sight was disconcerting to say the least. However, the afternoon of that same day, at Damascus Gate, passersby were met with a completely different scene. Palestinian flags waved in determined Palestinian hands under the threatening eye of heavily armed Israeli police and soldiers. The youths were fearless, demanding freedom, with strong, unrelenting voices.

The sight of the Palestinian flag waving at the entrance to Damascus Gate was a breath of fresh air. All is not lost and never will be because hope is eternal and determination and strength come from a never-ending spring.

That day at Damascus Gate is what all Palestinians must keep in their minds’ eye in spite of the daily oppression of the occupation. No matter how many missions Israel bars from entering or how many houses it takes over, there will always be those brave souls who, despite the risks, will always raise Palestine’s flag.

Joharah Baker is a Writer for the Media and Information Department at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mid@miftah.org.

There is no point falling into the pit of countering the claims being made about the death of Mohammed Al Durra, the 12-year old boy from Gaza whose videotaped killing was seen around the world. The boy, crouching in fear behind is equally afraid father as bullets whizzed around them, was killed admittedly by the Israeli army. Later, the army recanted after investigating the tape, saying Durra was killed by Palestinian fire instead. Well now, Israel is changing its story altogether, saying he was not killed at all. In fact, he was probably not even wounded and the French channel that broadcast the footage and brought some pretty bad rap to Israel, had most likely filmed a charade.

The reason why I will not waste my time countering this claim is that even with the great lengths the Israeli government went to to prove that the boy was never killed, it could not provide any irrefutable proof that Mohammed Al Durra – who would be 25 now – is still alive. No pictures, no testimonies, no hospital or morgue officials giving statements to refute his death, have been provided. Only sketchy information about ‘poor quality footage’ and the fact that it seems as though the boy moved his arm after he had slumped over his father following the explosion.

My point is this: indeed, Mohammed Durra’s death was at least one of the catalysts that fueled the second Intifada, and thus, was an important event in the history of the Palestinians. However, more importantly – most importantly to me –is the fact that this is about a boy who died in sheer terror, with his distraught father futilely trying to shelter him from the barrage of bullets coming their way.

Mohammed Al Durra was a boy, with a life, a family and friends. He died a horrible death and now he is being made to die a second one. I did not know Mohammed or his family, but I can only imagine how awful it must be for them to read these claims now and feel the pain of losing their child all over again. If nothing else, this is disrespect for human life of the worst kind.

Some may postulate that the rehashing of the Durra case is a personal jab at the French cameraman who shot the footage, Charles Enderlin. Perhaps. But as a Palestinian who has seen the pain endured by numerous families who receive the horrible news that their sons or daughters have been killed by the Israeli army, my concern is for his family and for his memory. He should be left to rest in peace. If Israel has axes to grind with French journalists or with the international community for holding it accountable for its actions, then so be it. Israel is not lacking in the public relations department.

That being said, there is just one decent thing left to do. Leave Mohammed Al Durra and his memory alone.

Joharah Baker is a Writer for the Media and Information Department at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mid@miftah.org.

This week Palestinians will commemorate Al Nakba, the catastrophe that befell the Palestinian people when Israel was founded. Every year, Palestinians hang placards pointing to the right of return, they carry keys symbolizing the homes they were forced to leave and could not return to and remember the Palestine that was lost to them 65 years ago.

This year will be no different. Every May 15, Palestinian recall their catastrophe and demand justice. They demand that they are granted the right of return for those who were made refugees virtually overnight and were then relegate to a life they did not choose. But more than anything, they demand recognition of the tragedy that befell them rather than a denial that it ever happened, or worse, that it was of their own making.

It has been 65 years since Israel was established in 1948, which means those who were cast into exile are either very old or have long passed. Those who experienced the Nakba are now few and far between, clinging to those few precious memories of a small garden in front of their house in Jaffa or of the salty smell of the sea in their neighborhood in Haifa. The rest of us are either descendants of these refugees or ordinary Palestinians who feel their cause is our cause because we are one people.

But the Palestinians have made one thing clear. The refugee issue will not die with the last refugee. It is felt nationwide, the loss, the injustice and the fact that those who were forced from their homes have mostly passed, longing for their beloved homes.

We cannot turn back time. What was lost has been altered, destroyed, changed or taken over by Israel’s newcomers. What we can do is hold on to the right to be recognized, for the injustice to be rectified in word and deed and for Palestine to never be lost in our minds or hearts.

Joharah Baker is a Writer for the Media and Information Department at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). She can be contacted at mid@miftah.org.

It is difficult to imagine the sense of loss and bitterness that has been eternally engraved in the heart and mind of Abir’s parents. She is a ten year-old Palestinian girl from Al-Salam neighbourhood in east Jerusalem, who died yesterday as a result of the fatal wounds she sustained to the head at the hands of the Israeli army earlier this week. Abir’s name means “fragrance” in Arabic, and her neighbourhood means “peace.” Her legacy, unmistakably universal, will always be acknowledged as “an innocent victim of Israel’s occupation of the Palestinian territories.”

Abir was injured outside her school in the area of Anata when Israeli border police opened fire and unleashed terror on a group of school children peacefully protesting the construction of Israel’s Annexation Wall in the area, ironically created to “prevent the killing of innocent Israelis.” She suddenly fell to the ground as a result of fractures to her skull when the troops threw stun grenades close to her small and fragile body. She was rushed to hospital, but efforts to save her innocent life came to no avail.

Abir is one of 955 children below the age of 18 killed by Israeli military forces since September 2000; the lives of her parents have become another tragedy among thousands of Palestinian families who will forever long for the lost smile of their loved ones; the freshness of their Abirs.

The slogan “end the occupation” has come to represent more than merely a political stance, or even a legal right. Ending Israel’s illegal occupation of the Palestinian territories, Palestinian cities, towns, villages, refugee camps, and Palestinian lives essentially and desperately appeals for the minimal right to live without the potential threat of getting shot, getting injured, getting arrested; it means appealing for the right to send our children to their schools or playgrounds without the horrific possibility of marching in their funerals the next day, or spending agonising sleepless nights while they languish in prison, or lay in a hospital bed struggling to keep their lives.

I wonder, honestly, about the apathy of the world towards the suffering of the Palestinians. I also wonder about the humanity of Israeli society, of Jewish society. Isn’t there enough logic and reason to believe that Israeli society has become what it fears most: a silent observer to the slaughtering of innocents, equal in form to the silence of the world before its own suffering at the hands of fascism? This is absurd; this is shameful.

No article, no essay, not even an infinite book documenting Israel’s violation of the most basic human rights can convey even one ounce of the pain Abir’s parents have been sentenced to endure for the rest of their scentless lives.

Rami Bathish is director of the Media and Information Programme at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). He can be contacted at mip@miftah.org

As a teenager growing up in Vienna, Austria, at the time, the collapse of the Soviet Union in the late 1980s and early 1990s is clearly enshrined in my memory as the single most significant historical event. Characterised by the dawn of a “new world order,” that period had reshaped the balance of power among nations and set the governing dynamics of what followed from regional and global events (and tragedies) until the present day. Meanwhile, as a Palestinian, first and foremost, I also recall that the winds of change had unmistakably stormed in another direction, one that is closer to home, and closer to heart. It was on 30 October, 1991, that the Madrid Peace Conference was convened, and consequently the assertion of our national aspirations for the first time since Al-Nakba on the largest possible scale. Within the context of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, this, in itself, was as historic as the end of the Cold War.

Today, more than 15 years after Madrid, Palestinians find themselves desperately trapped between the evident threat of internal strife and a prolonged Israeli occupation that has multiplied in form and magnitude since 1991. At the merciless hand of time, the dream of an independent and truly viable Palestinian state has become a distant and vague object in our rear view mirror.

National disunity, particularly following the second Palestinian Legislative Council elections of January 2006, has transcended political collisions between Fateh and Hamas and is increasingly following the catastrophic pattern of head-on militaristic confrontation, at the tragic expense of Palestinian blood. Israel, on its part, continues to relentlessly colonise what is left of Palestine (the territories it illegally occupies since the June 1967 war), through the imprisonment of the Gaza Strip and settlement construction and expansion, the construction of its Annexation Wall, and enforcement of demographic alterations in the West Bank, thereby creating irreversible realities on the ground and pre-empting the outcome of final status negotiations, let alone diminishing the prospects of their resumption altogether.

Ultimately, Palestinians have become diplomatically and economically isolated, politically marginalised, and scarce with optimism regarding the realisation of peace, and liberation.

It was therefore with a sense of bitterness, and somewhat a longing for the past that Palestinians consumed the Madrid + 15 conference, which was held earlier this week with the participation of representatives from Palestine, Israel, Jordan, Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, and Saudi Arabia, in addition to European and US dignitaries. The conference was concluded on Friday with a decision to revive the Palestinian-Israeli peace process during the first half of 2007, and a renewed commitment to the two-state solution as the only viable option to end the conflict.

However, it is more than nostalgia that attracts Palestinian attention to the Madrid + 15 conference. The peace process launched in 1991, which preceded the doomed Oslo Accords, was founded on a rational interpretation of the causes of conflict, with clear reference to the legality and legitimacy of Palestinian national aspirations. It also addressed Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip as a holistic reality, as opposed to what followed through the Oslo Accords; namely a set of secluded agreements on fragmented technicalities (crossings, borders, security, prisoners, etc).

Perhaps most importantly, it was the elements which constituted the momentum of the Palestinian position in the first Madrid conference that guaranteed the relative, albeit short-lived, success of the process altogether. These are two-fold:

1) Palestinian national unity and the popular-institutional base which endorsed negotiations was a catalyst for the validity of the Madrid Peace Conference. As opposed to the secrecy that underlined the Oslo negotiations, in isolation from any accountability and scrutiny before Palestinian public opinion, Madrid was carried out in a spirit of transparency and openness, which ensured wide Palestinian support.

2) Blessed with the (then-exiled) PLO’s support, the composition of the Palestinian delegation to Madrid included prominent leaders from within the occupied territories, who possessed both first-hand knowledge of the issues at hand and credibility among the Palestinian public. It was university professors, civil society leaders, and activists like Dr. Hanan Ashrawi, Dr. Haidar Abdel-Shafi, and the late Faisal Al-Husseini, among others who spearheaded the Palestinians’ first departure from armed resistance towards political dialogue in confronting their occupiers. It seemed as the ultimate moment of triumph, as ex-political prisoners and fugitive grassroots leaders were now sitting face-to-face with their oppressors, as equals.

It is hoped that the declarations of all parties to the latest conference in Spain will eventually materialise in the coming months and penetrate the corridors of power; indeed, if this is the case, then it is only in Madrid that we may trust again.

Rami Bathish is director of the Media and Information Programme at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). He can be contacted at mip@miftah.org

Omertà is a popular attitude, common in areas of southern Italy, such as Sicily, Calabria and Campania, where criminal organizations like the Mafia, 'Ndrangheta and Camorra are strong. Omertà implies never collaborating with the authorities, or the police in particular. It can be intended also as a vow of silence among Mafiosi. A common definition is the "law of silence." (Source: Wikipedia).

In the occupied Palestinian territories, Omertà has come to embody society’s unspoken law of silence towards atrocities committed against individuals in the name of "honour," patriotism, family loyalty, among other normative principles of which the victims are accused of undermining. The executioners’ ethical point of reference in punishing the accused is, at best, a severe blow to Palestinian efforts to foster a free and democratic society governed by the rule of law.

One of the most common patterns of such atrocities takes place against Palestinian women in the name of “honour,” particularly the killing of females suspected of engaging in sexual activities outside marriage. In 2006 alone, 60 Palestinian women were reported murdered (by Palestinians) in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip on the basis of "honour." The alarming reality is that these figures only represent a mere fraction of all cases of killings, punishment, and retribution against women, who not only fall victim to a viciously conservative society (particularly in isolated Palestinian communities), but equally, to a consistent sense of apathy by Palestinians in tackling this taboo issue.

The 60 cases filed in 2006 represent the minority of incidents where witnesses took the odd step of reporting these crimes to the authorities; there are countless other cases in which this harshest form of violence against women remains locked up in the memories of indifferent members of the community who choose to distance themselves from these so called “shameful acts.” Meanwhile, Palestinian law remains ambiguous towards holding perpetrators of "honour" killings accountable, and in most cases it is an anachronistic Palestinian (Arab) tribal code of conduct which supersedes any set of legal framework or principles.

While "honour" killings take place more frequently and more consistently than any other form of atrocity committed by Palestinians against each other, another trend is increasingly posing equal alarm among Palestinian civil society, namely the killing of Palestinians suspected of collaboration with the Israeli occupation.

Due to the circumstances in which these killings and executions take place, it is difficult to draw an accurate figure of such cases; however it would be safe to assert that dozens of Palestinians have been executed by paramilitary elements since the outbreak of the Intifada in September 2000, on the basis of their collaboration with Israel.

Despite wide consensus among Palestinians that collaboration with the Israeli authorities (for the clear purpose of targeting and killing Palestinian activists and freedom fighters) constitutes an unforgivable crime against the Palestinian people and an absolute betrayal of their just cause, the imperatives of a democratic and free society requires an institutional-legal, rather than vigilante, retribution to this crime. First, a coherent process of a fair trial, in which evidence is brought before a court of law, must take place to prevent false accusation, and second, the form and extent of punishment must be governed by a clear legal foundation, not least to regulate and limit the implementation of the death penalty in the Palestinian territories (another setback to Palestinian civil society to which special focus must be allocated).

Ultimately, it is not only the occurrence of such executions above the law which raises concern, but rather the unwillingness of most Palestinians, collectively and as individual citizens, to prevent them. Again, the socio-cultural sensitivities attached to these issues place serious limitations to the readiness of Palestinians to take action; however, no one claims that the road to liberation (particularly self liberation) is without challenge.

The Palestinian national struggle, and the concerted efforts of our society to rid itself of Israel’s brutal and illegal occupation of our land, must not blind us before the virtues of our own humanity; above all else, it is the soul of Palestine that must be preserved.

Rami Bathish is director of the Media and Information Programme at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). He can be contacted at mip@miftah.org

Events in the Middle East have seldom been more closely interdependent and interrelated during our recent political history; a raging civil war in Iraq, escalation of factional infighting in the occupied Palestinian territories, and an increasingly polarised political landscape in Lebanon share one clear common denominator: dichotomy between modernity and conservatism. At the same time, the re-emergence of alliances between Iran, Syria, and hard-line political forces within various nation states in the Arab World on the one hand, and a strategic coalition of “moderate” Arab regimes with the West on the other, underlines the prevalent order of international society in the beginning of the 21st Century, namely religious nationalism vs. political realism, respectively.

Of course, this rigid analogy is unacceptable, in varying degrees, to political forces on either side of the equation. For conservatives, theirs is essentially a nationalist struggle against western domination, which has merely taken the form of religious (Islamic) loyalties, particularly following the political vacuum created by the collapse of the Soviet Union, and consequently the disintegration of socialist movements across the battle grounds of the Cold War, including the Middle East. In other words, Islamic political forces in today’s Middle East are the natural alternative to the dwindling leftist movements who had constituted a major bulk of the opposition in the 60s, 70s, and most of the 80s.

For the moderates, or mainstream regimes, in the Middle East, their quest is based on a pragmatic interpretation of international relations, and a conscious effort to integrate their societies (political and economic structures) into a global order that is compatible with western strategic interests in the region. This camp draws its logic and vision on the basis of the inevitable balance of power, especially within the framework of the “war on terror” doctrine dictated by the US following the 11 September, 2001, attacks.

However, despite any reservations on the categorisation of these two camps, the fact remains that there are two competing wisdoms among social and political forces inside the Middle East, which are shaping the future of the region in unexpected, and often turbulent, ways.

Public opinion within the Middle East bares witness to the extent of polarisation that has gradually taken shape in recent years. Opinion polls inside the Palestinian territories, for example, indicate that, should early legislative elections be held as announced by President Mahmoud Abbas last month, approximately 35% of the vote would go to Hamas, despite the detrimental impact of its victory in January 2006 on the socio-economic structure of Palestinian society. Another 35%, it is estimated, would go to Fateh, the mainstream national movement often associated with the Oslo peace process, and ultimately with mutual compromises with Israel on the issue of Palestine on the basis of the two-state solution.

The polarisation of Palestinian politics, especially during 2006, has gone far beyond political rivalries and into an alarming trend of head-on collisions. The now-familiar pattern of armed clashes between Hamas and Fateh loyalists is threatening to shatter the fabric of Palestinian society. Palestinian civil war is no longer a distant nightmare, but rather a clear and present danger whose outbreak is only, for now, prevented by Israel’s ongoing colonisation of the West Bank and imprisonment of the Gaza Strip, as well as its military onslaught of a common Palestinian population. To think that a nation under military occupation can turn against itself is outrageous, yet this is clearly happening.

We are, therefore, left with sufficient reason to believe, or at least to explore the idea, that internal political struggles in the Middle East are not merely based on exclusively national considerations, but rather on a combination of ideological and religious aspirations rooted in centuries of wars, invasions, turmoil, and a historical evolution that has ultimately resulted in a deeply divided neighbourhood. The answers to the Middle East’s troubles may, after all, have to be pursued internally.

Rami Bathish is director of the Media and Information Programme at the Palestinian Initiative for the Promotion of Global Dialogue and Democracy (MIFTAH). He can be contacted at mip@miftah.org