Ramzy Baroud
June 4, 2024
In politics, context is crucial.
To truly appreciate the recent decision by Ireland,
Spain and Norway to recognize the state of Palestine, the subject has to be
placed in proper context.
On November 15, 1988, Yasser Arafat, then Chairman
of the Palestine Liberation Organization, declared Palestine as an independent
state.
The proclamation took place within important and
unique contexts:
One, the Palestinian uprising of December 1987 which
ignited international support and sympathy with the Palestinian people.
Two, growing expectations that the Palestinian
leadership needed to match the popular Intifada in the Occupied Territories
with a political program so as not to squander the global attention obtained by
the uprising.
There were other issues that are also worth a pause,
including the growing marginalization of the PLO as the main political front of
the Palestinian struggle.
This irrelevance was the natural political outcome
of the forced exile of the PLO leadership from Lebanon to Algeria in 1982,
which largely severed the connection between this leadership and an influential
Palestinian constituency.
Though Arafat’s announcement was made in Algiers,
Palestinians in occupied Palestine and across the world rejoiced. They felt
that their leadership was, once more, directly involved in their struggle, and
that their Intifada, which, by then, had cost them hundreds of precious lives,
had finally acquired some kind of political horizon.
The countries that almost immediately recognized the
state of Palestine reflected the geopolitical formation at the time: Arab and
Muslim countries, which fully and unconditionally recognized the nascent state.
Additionally, there were countries in the Global South which expressed their
historic solidarity with the Palestinian people.
A third category, which also mattered greatly, was
represented by countries in Asia and eastern Europe – including Russia itself –
which revolved within the Soviet sphere, posing a direct challenge to American
hegemony and Western militarism and expansionism.
Soon after the Algiers Declaration, the geopolitics
of the world received its greatest shock since World War II, namely the
collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 and the subsequent fragmentation of
pro-Soviet states, thus the isolation of the Global South amid growing Western
hegemony.
That, too, had a direct impact on Palestine. Though
Arafat and his PLO made their fair share of mistakes and political
miscalculations – leading to the Oslo Accords, the formation of the Palestinian
Authority and the fragmentation of the Palestinian front itself – the
Palestinian leadership’s options, from a strict geopolitical analysis, were
quite limited.
Back then, the PLO had one out of two options:
either to continue with the struggle for freedom and independence based on the
national liberation model or to adopt a purely political approach based on
negotiations and supposed ‘painful compromises’. They opted for the latter, which proved to be
a fatal mistake.
Political negotiations can be rewarding when the
negotiating parties have leverage. While Israel had the leverage of being the
occupying power and receiving unconditional support from the US and its Western
allies, the Palestinians had very little.
Therefore, the outcome was as obvious as it was
predictable. The PLO was sidelined in favor of a new political entity, the PA,
which redefined the concept of political leverage altogether, to essentially
mean direct financial benefits to an Israeli-sanctioned ruling class.
Since 1988, more countries recognized the state of
Palestine, though that recognition remained largely confined within the
geopolitical formations at each phase of history. For example, between 2008 and
2011, more South American countries recognized Palestine, a direct outcome of
new and assertive political independence achieved in that part of the world.
In 2012, Palestine was voted by the United Nations
General Assembly as a non-member observer state, allowing it to officially use
the name ‘State of Palestine’ for all political purposes.
All Palestinian efforts since then have failed to
overcome the power paradigm that continues to exist at the UN, separating the
UNGA from those with veto power at the Security Council.
The events of October 7, and the genocidal war that
followed, have certainly ushered in a massive global movement that challenged
the pre-existing geopolitical paradigm regarding Palestine.
If the war, however, had taken place, say ten years
ago, the global response to the Palestinian plea for solidarity may have been
different. But this is not the case, since the world is itself experiencing a
major state of flux. New rising global powers have been boldly challenging, and
changing, the world’s status quo geopolitics for years. This includes Russia’s
direct confrontation with NATO in Ukraine, China’s rise to global power status,
the growing influence of BRICS and the more assertive African and South
American political agendas.
For its part, the Gaza war has also challenged the
concept of military power as a guarantor of permanent dominance. This is now
obvious in the Middle East and also globally.
The latter realization has finally allowed for new,
significant margins to appear, allowing Western European countries to finally
accept the reality that Palestine deserves to be a state, that the Palestinian
aspirations must be honored and that international law must be respected.
Now, the challenge for Palestinians is whether they
will be able to utilize this historic moment to the fullest degree. Hopefully,
the precious blood spilled in Gaza would prove more sacred than the limited
financial gains by a small group of politicians.
Mohammed R. Mhawish and Asmaa Yassin
Boxes stuffed with clothing, a few backpacks, and a portable tent: these
were what remained of Marah Mahdi’s possessions as she sheltered at a UN
facility in Gaza’s southern city of Rafah in early May. A 23-year-old
Palestinian journalist from Gaza City, Mahdi had survived a winding, tumultuous
journey that was emblematic of the endless displacements suffered by most of
the Strip’s population — and one that is still far from over.
Mahdi was at home on Oct. 20 when Israeli airstrikes and artillery bombs
shelled her neighborhood in preparation for the army’s ground offensive. The
next morning, she and 11 members of her immediate and extended family packed
what they could and headed south, fleeing with only the clothes on their backs,
some essential documentation, and food.
After their initial escape, the Mahdis found temporary shelter in a school
in Nuseirat, which soon became unsafe due to continuous Israeli airstrikes.
Forced to move again, they made their way to Deir al-Balah, hoping for a
semblance of safety. Each move brought new challenges, from finding food and
clean water to avoiding the constant threat of shelling.
Yet their arrival in Rafah in early November did not signal the end of
their troubles. For the past seven months, Rafah has served as a refuge for
over 1.4 million Palestinians fleeing from the north of the Strip by the orders
of the Israeli military. The city, overwhelmed by the influx of refugees, was
barely able to provide the essentials. The Mahdi family first took shelter in a
UN elementary school in the eastern part of the city, but were forced to
relocate within Rafah multiple times as humanitarian aid dwindled.
Then came Israel’s invasion of Rafah four weeks ago, which has pushed
hundreds of thousands of Palestinians to flee once again. This time, however,
there is a pervasive uncertainty as to where they should go.
“We are witnessing a devastating situation across Gaza,” Mahdi told +972.
“From Jabalia in the north to Khan Younis and Rafah in the south, we have no
safe havens. Staying in Rafah now feels like a suicidal idea. If the strikes
don’t kill us, famine and lack of medical treatment might.”
A refuge under attack
On May 6, Hamas announced it had accepted a ceasefire deal proposed by
Egypt and Qatar. But the following day brought a stark reversal: Israel dropped
leaflets on Rafah ordering the residents of its eastern areas to evacuate, in
preparation for a ground assault into the densely crowded city. Palestinians
flooded into the streets of Rafah, old and young alike, carrying their
belongings on animal carts, looking for yet another shelter.
Since then, nearly 1 million Palestinians in Rafah have been displaced yet
another time and most UN Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) shelters have been
vacated, as people relocate to tent cities on the city’s western edge or try to
return to Khan Younis and Deir al-Balah further north.
Just before midnight on May 26, Israeli airstrikes on a tent camp in the
western Rafah neighbourhood of Tel al-Sultan killed at least 45 people. Two
days later, another Israeli attack targeted an area where people were
sheltering in tents in Al-Mawasi, west of Rafah, killing at least 21 more
individuals.
By that time, the Israeli military said it had established “operational
control” over the 8-mile-long border zone with Egypt, known as the Philadelphi
Corridor.
The UN and other aid organizations have issued warnings that the closure
of the Rafah Crossing is pushing every aspect of life to the brink. And as the
Israeli military advanced into central Rafah last week, the last functioning
hospitals have been closed and aid operations are being forced to shut down or
leave the city.
Over the past month, Mahdi’s family struggled to survive, stripped of
basic necessities and familiar routines. Clean water was scarce, gas reserves
depleted, and the search for food and shelter was constant.
Telecommunication networks have also been down across the south since
Israeli tanks entered the city, which has hindered emergency services. “Even if
we could reach medical crews by phone,” Mahdi noted, “all they can offer is
basic first aid.”
‘Each displacement feels just as terrifying as the first’
Eight days into the invasion, the family was forced once again to seek
refuge elsewhere, joining more than half of the Strip’s population in search of
safety that is nowhere to be found in Gaza. “This marks the seventh time we’ve
had to leave our shelters [in Rafah],” Mahdi told +972.
The Mahdis joined those who flocked toward the city’s southern areas,
erecting a tent close to the beach. Throughout the nights, explosions would
light up the sky, with warplanes hovering ominously overhead. Venturing outside
the tent, even to the makeshift toilet, became a risky endeavour as drones
would target any movement after sunset. “We are terrified all the time, but
nights are the worst,” Mahdi confided.
The arrival of a new day, however, brought no respite. In the scorching
heat of early summer, the family still had to collect and burn wood to cook
anything they could find, while facing the constant threat of bombardment. A
few days passed, and what was once a bustling tent camp now appeared empty
after Israeli forces reportedly claimed control of central areas in Rafah,
dominating a significant portion of the city.
“When we fled northern Gaza to Rafah, we thought that was it. No more
fear, no more death. But we have lived a reversed reality since then,” Mahdi
said. “Each time [we’re displaced] feels just as agonizing and terrifying as
the first — utter despair and terror.”
On May 21, the Mahdis made the difficult decision to evacuate their
shelter in Rafah and head to Deir al-Balah in central Gaza. The family walked
two kilometers before catching a bus with other evacuees, but when they learned
the bus ride would cost about $70, they continued on foot, braving the presence
of warplanes overhead. An hour later, a donkey cart passed by and they climbed
aboard.
Mahdi found no solace, however, in escaping Rafah alive: wherever they
stayed, they would always be vulnerable to Israeli attacks.
“All we want is to be safe,” she lamented. “We want the world to recognize
our humanity and our right to live in freedom and justice. We don’t know when
this cycle of fear and death will end. All we know is that we are terrified and
exhausted, and we long to return home and resume our normal lives.”
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