Sixty
years ago, my grandparents lived in the beautiful village of Beit Daras, a few
kilometers north of Gaza. They were farmers and owned hundreds of acres of
land.
But
in 1948, in the first Arab-Israeli war, many people lost their lives defending
our village from the Zionist militias. In the end, with their crops and homes
burning, the villagers fled. My family eventually made its way to what became
the refugee camp of Khan Yunis in Gaza. We were hit hard by poverty,
humiliation and disease. We became refugees, queuing for tents, food and
assistance, while the state of Israel was established on the ruins of my
family's property and on the ruins of hundreds of other Palestinian villages.
Some
people may tire of hearing such stories from the past. "Don't cry over
spilled milk" is one of the first sayings I learned in English. But for
me, the line between past and present is not so easily broken. I raise this
story today because it remains profoundly relevant to the Middle East peace
process -- and to help convey the deep-seated fears of Palestinian refugees
that we will be asked to exonerate Israel for its actions and to relinquish our
right to return home.
That
cannot be allowed to happen. All refugees have the right to return. This is an
individual right, long recognized in international law, that cannot be
negotiated away. Palestinian refugees -- and there are more than 4 million of
us registered with the United Nations today -- hold this right no less than
Kosovar or Rwandan or any other refugees.
Of
course, I understand that the clock cannot be turned back. Most of the
Palestinian villages inside what is now Israel no longer exist. And experience
shows that when the rights of refugees are recognized and backed by
international communities, only a small portion opt to return.
But
the option should be open to us. If a refugee decides to return, he or she should
not be hindered. Anything less would be unacceptable to Palestinians,
two-thirds of whom are refugees. Those who choose not to return must be fairly
compensated for their losses.
My
fear is that in the months ahead, enormous financial and political pressure may
be brought against our fractured leadership to concede the rights of refugees.
In
2000, Yasser Arafat was castigated internationally for his refusal to accept
what was perversely termed a "generous offer" from then-Israeli Prime
Minister Ehud Barak, even though it made no provision whatsoever for the return
of refugees. However, Arafat was greeted as a hero by Palestinians for his
principled unwillingness to sanctify ethnic cleansing.
Seven
years later, we will perhaps be confronted with another "generous
offer" aiming to formalize our dispossession. Tragically, world powers
have little stomach to battle Israel for what they view as bygone peccadilloes.
There
are real consequences for being stateless and weak. For two years, I have been
unable to return to my home in Gaza. In 2006, I was stranded in the Sinai with
my two small children, unable to get through the closed border from Egypt into
Gaza. It is perhaps madness to want to enter such a prison, but it is where my
family and loved ones live. I eventually gave up. Last summer, I tried and
failed again.
Yet
my ultimate destination is not Khan Yunis but Beit Daras. It is fundamentally
unjust -- even all these years later -- that the world stands by and
countenances the Israeli decision to expropriate my family's land.
And
it is fundamentally racist to believe that I would pose a threat to Israel if I
were to move back to my family's village (which I would do if I were given the
option). The notion of a Jewish state that must always retain a Jewish
character -- so that people of other ethnicities can be barred from living in
their ancestral homes and minority groups are treated as second-class citizens
-- is frighteningly similar to the apartheid state of South Africa, where
different ethnic groups were treated unequally under law.
If
black and white South Africans could resolve their differences on the basis of
equality, why is it inappropriate to insist that Israelis and Palestinians do
the same? Surely all modern conceptions of justice and equality must decry a
system that places Jews above Palestinians.
Both
peoples have suffered enormously over the last several decades. Resolution,
however, will not come by the powerful dictating to the weak, but only through
insistence on equality between the two peoples.
Ghada Ageel is a third-generation Palestinian refugee. She grew up in
the Khan Yunis refugee camp in Gaza and teaches Middle Eastern politics at the
University of Exeter in Britain.