Dead dreams

Ask an average passer-by on an average (probably rainy) street in England what comes to mind when presented with the word ‘Palestinian’ and the response is likely to elicit two images. Firstly that of a pugnacious, banner wielding, keffiyeh wearing man involved in Islamic radicalism, terrorism and suicide bombing. Secondly a picture of a people with their feet firmly planted in Israel or the Occupied Palestinian Territories.

Both these images need scrutinising. The latter in particular is as a result of decades of media coverage that has focused on Palestinians in the land that was formerly Palestine rather than those who comprise the refugee population. For the 750,000 Palestinians who fled Palestine following the emergence of Israel in 1948 and the ensuing Arab-Israeli conflict, the politics of identity have been closely intertwined with life in the diaspora. The adaption and recreation of identity has taken place in a context entirely different to the Palestinians who remained behind, and has differed according to diasporic location. Yet the voices of these Palestinians as heard in the West has been relatively quiet.

The least known and least remembered of these groups of Palestinians who found some form of a home in neighbouring Arab countries are the Palestinians in Lebanon. They number 10% of Lebanon’s population yet remain both stateless and rightless. Unable to own property, unable to work in any profession other than menial employment, unable to gain work insurance, and unable to access anything but basic healthcare, the life of a Palestinian in Lebanon is a life of ‘dead dreams’, as a twenty-six year old Palestinian male described.

Of all these disadvantages faced by the Palestinian community, restrictions on employment are the most discriminatory and impact both day to day subsistence as well as physchological well being. The ability to work towards a certain profession, to educate oneself in order to achieve goals of employment, the ability to dream, is impossible for the estimated 400,000 Palestinians in Lebanon.

 Discrimination against Palestinians in the job market stems from their status as foreigners in Lebanon. Article 1 of the ‘Law Pertaining to the Entry Into, Residence In and exit From Lebanon’ (10^th July 1962) classifies Palestinians as foreigners irrespective of the fact that the majority of today’s Palestinian population were born and have lived their whole lives on Lebanese territory. As a result of this foreigner status it is demanded that a work permit, given for a maximum of two years, is granted before employment is gained in anything other than ‘agriculture, animal husbandry or small enterprises within the camps’.

 

Work permits are therefore essential to obtain for any form of meaningful employment, and are notoriously difficult to get hold of. According to the Presidential Decree 17561 of 18 September 1964  is only possible to obtain a work permit if one of the following criteria are met: he/she is a specialist whose job cannot be filled by a national and whose position has been thorougly advertised, the foreign national has been resident in Lebanon since before 1954 and works in an institution for nine months a year, or the applicant has been married to a Palestinian man for longer than a year (but not vice versa). These restrictions mean it is rare for an employer to even attempt to gain a work permit for a Palestinian employee, and instead Palestinians are limited to lower status jobs such as cleaning and seasonal employment for which a status is not required.

 

The work permit has an ally in removing Palestinians from the workforce; the ban on Palestinians entering specified professions. Until 2005 a famous ‘72’ professions were off-limits for Palestinians as ‘foreigners’, including ‘all administrative and mercantile work of whatever nature’ and ‘all commercial work of whatever nature.’ As a young Palestinian from Al-Bass camp in Sour points out, ‘I can’t be a lawyer, I can’t be a doctor, I can’t be a furniture man. Seventy two jobs I can’t do. Some of them  are difficult, some of them are simple. Difficult jobs like doctor, lawyer, pharmacist. And simple like I can’t drive a truck with two wheels.’

Despite the removal of 50 professions on the list in 2005 little impact has been seen in the actual employment of Palestinians. For many there is no incentive to register for work permits for certain jobs when they are working illegally and if registered would pay taxes but receive no social security benefit. In addition this amendment has not been ratifed and could therefore be reversed or amended at any time. The two measures of the work permit and the ban on employment are effective discriminatory tools, working together to ensure almost complete obstruction for Palestinians entering the workforce. Despite the power of the latter being limited in recent years, the former is ensuring the same small percentage of Palestinians gain meaningful employment.

Unsurprisingly given these restrictions, Palestinian unemployment is estimated at 60 to 70%. Those who do gain employment often have seasonal, part-time manual labour which is not enough to maintain a standard of living above the poverty line. The main employers in the camps are the aid agencies such as  UNRWA and the Red Crescent, alongside the various different Palestinian factions who appear to be among the highest payers and are therefore percieved as the best employers.

Whilst the camps are providing higher levels of education than ever before, qualifications cannot turn into employment prospects and hard work does not equate with reward. Where other children have the luxury of choosing a career and working towards it, the Palestinians in Lebanon are stuck within a perverse paradox. They can obtain skills and qualifications but they cannot earn money from using them. They can dream but these dreams will transpire to nothing.

These discriminatory policies cause a twenty-six year old with a diploma in accounting and formal computing qualifications to work for UNRWA packing aid boxes for six hours every day. These restrictions cause an intelligent student mid way through his accounting degree to be at the beck and call of his employer day and night in order to obtain a work permit illegally, only to be employed at half the rate of his colleagues.

As the West turns a blind eye to the discrimination faced by Palestinians in Lebanon, and to the half-lives they are forced to lead, it is possible that this ignorance and avoidance is creating the very stereotype they are so afraid of. Only two weeks ago a man in Al-Bass camp spoke in hushed tones about the hidden battle within the camp between the Islamic radicalists and the less militant Fatah party. Internal conflict within the camps can be more clearly seen in Ein al-Hilweh in Saida, locally known as ‘The Wild West’ due to its lawlessness and violence, and in the destruction of Nahr al-Bared by the Lebanese Army in 2007. These events did not make international headlines; why should they when the Israel/Palestine conflict fills the quota for conflict in the Middle East?

For how much longer will the Palestinians in Lebanon put up with this discrimination peacefully? Despite all these measures to bar them from meaningful employment and to give them a life of secondary status in their country of birth, dreams of a better future are very much present. Dreams cannot die, they simply morph into a different expression. Two important questions arise; what expression their desire for change will take, and whether the international community will begin to listen.

 

a call to protest

In January I went on my first protest in London. It was a protest against the Israeli attacks on Gaza organised by the Stop the War Coalition.

Prior to my trip to Lebanon last summer I had very little opportunity to engage with issues of peace or conflict, as I was brought up in the UK and therefore both seemed like fairly abstract constructs. Living in a place of peace was something I had taken for granted, and I could imagine living in a place of conflict no better than a fish can imagine living in a place without water.

I am therefore very grateful for the seven weeks I spent in Lebanon and know that the lessons I learnt from the people I met there will stay with me forever.

Upon my arrival in Beirut one of the first things that struck me was the war torn buildings juxtaposed with lavish new constructions, desperately trying to turn the image of the city from one of civil war to one of prosperity and wealth. Whilst the new square and expensive restaurants, shops and health clubs may deceive a visitor momentarily, one only has to stop and look around and there are plenty of clues as to Beirut’s conflict-ridden history.

To write a concise history of conflict in Lebanon is nearly impossible, but suffice to say internal divisions and a series of occupations and military campaigns by Israel has left it reeling, all be it disguised by a desperate attempt to mend differences and forge peace. Robert Fisk, perhaps Lebanon’s most famous resident, aptly titled his book on the modern history of Lebanon, ‘Pity the Nation’. Whilst Lebanon probably does not want our pity, I am certain that it needs our attention and support.

I had the privilege of living in Al-Bass Palestinian refugee camp in Sour, Southern Lebanon for six weeks, of living with local families and trying to understand the marginalisation experienced by the communities there. The people I met and lived with and the things I experienced still bring me to tears.

There are 400,000 Palestinians in Lebanon. They are forbidden by law to do anything other than manual labour or menial jobs, and are effectively the underclass of Lebanese society. They can’t own property outside the refugee camps, which are rapidly expanding with a non-corresponding expansion of amenities. Whilst these restrictions make the physical act of living difficult, of far greater impact is the influence these barriers have upon identity. The Palestinians of Lebanon are marginalised, neglected and deprived of any identity other than their Palestinian legacy. As a result militant groups such as Hezbollah find a captive audience amongst the camps, after all, if you have been deprived of all your rights there seems to be little alternative but violence.

Whilst teaching in the schools of two other camps I was struck by the way in which conflict is engrained into every day life. The Palestinian children of Lebanon are surrounded by violence and hatred, so that it becomes a very part of their identity. Instead of posters of pop stars, buildings in the camps have posters of suicide bombers who have killed Israelis. Instead of being excited about attending music concerts, children are excited about dressing up in military clothes and attending the latest Hamas or Fatah rally. This cycle of violence and revenge is stealing peoples childhoods and ultimately taking lives.

I do not believe that the establishment of Israel was God’s will. But this is not why I went on the protest. I went on this protest to demonstrate on behalf of the millions of people living in conflict situations that violence is not the answer. I believe there is another way, and I believe that living alongside those who are marginalised, oppressed and trodden on by society is one of the most important things that we can do.

I may not be able to attend a protest every time a Palestinian is killed by a settler in the West Bank, or an Israeli dies from a rocket attack by a Palestinian in Lebanon. But I hope that by not settling for an easy life of ignoring the conflict situations that permeate the world we live in, I will continue to protest in a different way.