(Hanan Ashrawi’s daughter telling her story)

I am Palestinian - born and raised - and my Palestinian roots go back centuries. No one can change that even if they tell me that Jerusalem , my birth place, is not Palestine , even if they tell me that Palestine doesn't exist, even if they take away all my papers and deny me entry to my own home, even if they humiliate me and take away my rights. I AM PALESTINIAN.

Name: Zeina Emile Sam'an Ashrawi; Date of Birth: July 30, 1981; Ethnicity: Arab. This is what was written on my Jerusalem ID card. An ID card to a Palestinian is much more than just a piece of paper; it is my only legal documented relationship to Palestine . Born in Jerusalem , I was given a Jerusalem ID card (the blue ID), an Israeli Travel Document and a Jordanian Passport stamped Palestinian (I have no legal rights in Jordan ). I do not have an Israeli Passport, a Palestinian Passport or an American Passport.

Here is my story:

I came to the United States as a 17 year old to finish high school in Pennsylvania and went on to college and graduate school and subsequently got married and we are currently living in Northern Virginia. I have gone home every year at least once to see my parents, my family and my friends and to renew my Travel Document as I was only able to extend its validity once a year from Washington DC . My father and I would stand in line at the Israeli Ministry of Interior in Jerusalem , along with many other Palestinians, from 4:30 in the morning to try our luck at making it through the revolving metal doors of the Ministry before noon – when the Ministry closed its doors - to try and renew the Travel Document. We did that year after year. As a people living under an occupation, being faced with constant humiliation by an occupier was the norm but we did what we had to do to insure our identity was not stolen from us.

In August of 2007 I went to the Israeli Embassy in Washington DC to try and extend my travel document and get the usual "Returning Resident" VISA that the Israelis issue to Palestinians holding an Israeli Travel Document. After watching a few Americans and others being told that their visas would be ready in a couple of weeks my turn came. I walked up to the bulletproof glass window shielding the lady working behind it and under a massive picture of the Dome of the Rock and the Walls of Jerusalem that hangs on the wall in the Israeli consulate, I handed her my papers through a little slot at the bottom of the window.

"Shalom" she said with a smile. "Hi" I responded, apprehensive and scared. As soon as she saw my Travel Document her demeanor immediately changed. The smile was no longer there and there was very little small talk between us, as usual. After sifting through the paperwork I gave her she said: "where is your American Passport?" I explained to her that I did not have one and that my only Travel Document is the one she has in her hands. She was quiet for a few seconds and then said: "you don't have an American Passport?" suspicious that I was hiding information from her. "No!" I said. She was quiet for a little longer and then said: "Well, I am not sure we'll be able to extend your Travel Document." I felt the blood rushing to my head as this is my only means to get home! I asked her what she meant by that and she went on to tell me that since I had been living in the US and because I had a Green Card they would not extend my Travel Document.

After taking a deep breath to try and control my temper I explained to her that a Green Card is not a Passport and I cannot use it to travel outside the US. My voice was shaky and I was getting more and more upset (and a mini shouting match ensued) so I asked her to explain to me what I needed to do. She told me to leave my paperwork and we would see what happens.

A couple of weeks later I received a phone call from the lady telling me that she was able to extended my Travel Document but I would no longer be getting the "Returning Resident" VISA. Instead, I was given a 3 month tourist VISA. Initially I was happy to hear that the Travel Document was extended but then I realized that she said "tourist VISA". Why am I getting a tourist VISA to go home? Not wanting to argue with her about the 3 month VISA at the time so as not to jeopardize the extension of my Travel Document, I simply put that bit of information on the back burner and went on to explain to her that I wasn't going home in the next 3 months. She instructed me to come back and apply for another VISA when I did intend on going. She didn't add much and just told me that it was ready for pick-up. So I went to the Embassy and got my Travel Document and the tourist VISA that was stamped in it.

My husband, my son and I were planning on going home to Palestine this summer. So a month before we were set to leave (July 8, 2008) I went to the Israeli Embassy in Washington DC, papers in hand, to ask 2 for a VISA to go home. I, again, stood in line and watched others get VISAs to go to my home. When my turn came I walked up to the window; "Shalom" she said with a smile on her face, "Hi" I replied. I slipped the paperwork in the little slot under the bulletproof glass and waited for the usual reaction. I told her that I needed a returning resident VISA to go home. She took the paperwork and I gave her a check for the amount she requested and left the Embassy without incident.

A few days ago I got a phone call from Dina at the Israeli Embassy telling me that she needed the expiration date of my Jordanian Passport and my Green Card. I had given them all the paperwork they needed time and time again and I thought it was a good way on their part to waste time so that I didn't get my VISA in time. Regardless, I called over and over again only to get their voice mail. I left a message with the information they needed but kept called every 10 minutes hoping to speak to someone to make sure that they received the information in an effort to expedite the tedious process. I finally got a hold of someone. I told her that I wanted to make sure they received the information I left on their voice mail and that I wanted to make sure that my paperwork was in order. She said, after consulting with someone in the background (I assume it was Dina), that I needed to fax copies of both my Jordanian Passport and my Green Card and that giving them the information over the phone wasn't acceptable. So I immediately made copies and faxed them to Dina. A few hours later my cell phone rang. "Zeina?" she said. "Yes" I replied, knowing exactly who it was and immediately asked her if she received the fax I sent. She said: "ehhh, I was not looking at your file when you called earlier but your Visa was denied and your ID and Travel Document are no longer valid." "Excuse me?" I said in disbelief. "Sorry, I cannot give you a visa and your ID and Travel Document are no longer valid. This decision came from Israel not from me."

I cannot describe the feeling I got in the pit of my stomach. "Why?" I asked and Dina went on to tell me that it was because I had a Green Card. I tried to reason with Dina and to explain to her that they could not do that as this is my only means of travel home and that I wanted to see my parents, but to no avail. Dina held her ground and told me that I wouldn't be given the VISA and then said: "Let the Americans give you a Travel Document".

I have always been a strong person and not one to show weakness but at that moment I lost all control and started crying while Dina was on the other end of the line holding my only legal documents linking me to my home. I began to plead with her to try and get the VISA and not revoke my documents; "put yourself in my shoes, what would you do? You want to go see your family and someone is telling you that you can't! What would you do? Forget that you're Israeli and that I'm Palestinian and think about this for a minute!" "Sorry" she said," I know but I can't do anything, the decision came from Israel ". I tried to explain to her over and over again that I could not travel without my Travel Document and that they could not do that - knowing that they could, and they had!

This has been happening to many Palestinians who have a Jerusalem ID card. The Israeli government has been practicing and perfecting the art of ethnic cleansing since 1948 right under the nose of the world and no one has the power or the guts to do anything about it. Where else in the world does one have to beg to go to one's own home? Where else in the world does one have to give up their identity for the sole reason of living somewhere else for a period of time? Imagine if an American living in Spain for a few years wanted to go home only to be told by the American government that their American Passport was revoked and that they wouldn't be able to come back!

If I were a Jew living anywhere around the world and had no ties to the area and had never set foot there, I would have the right to go any time I wanted and get an Israeli Passport. In fact, the Israelis encourage that. I however, am not Jewish but I was born and raised there, my parents, family and friends still live there and I cannot go back! I am neither a criminal nor a threat to one of the most powerful countries in the world, yet I am alienated and expelled from my own home.

As it stands right now, I will be unable to go home - I am one of many.

So today is the third day of Eid Al Fitr that all Muslims worldwide celebrate right after the culmination of the month of Ramadan. Not sure if it’s only me, but Ramadan seems to have lost its glory. Years ago when I was a child, people’s attitudes towards both Ramadan and Eid (festival) were way different than now. Maybe I have grown up to the extent that I see in them nothing but the mere fact that few arrogant relatives come for a visit for a couple of minutes, and everyone just sucks them up.

It has been a gloomy day in deed. Being self-centered often times, I thought that my own family never enjoyed the Ramadan that other people celebrate. But the night prior to the Eid, I went for a drive to Ramallah with my uncle and three sisters, we toured around Al Manara and the mall a bit, and felt the legendary atmosphere. People were happy. That hit me; I am not accustomed to seeing them vividly preoccupied with the preparation for the big “day.”

So I came back home and wrote to all my contacts wishing them a Happy Eid and expressed my astonishment and satisfaction to see promising smiles in the crowded streets of Ramallah. But the sad part was that I knew it was merely fleeting moments and that those smiles would be wiped off soon. Not only have my fears become true, but I was blind. Yes, blind. Or may be I just chose not to see it. May be I wanted to believe that we are actually happy.

Would I miss Ramadan? NO. Not really. It has been made hell this year.

While Ramadan is believed to be the holy month during which people get closer to Allah by fasting from food and drink all day long and focus on their faith instead, I am not pretty sure this was the case with us Palestinians. It was only a drug. Ramadan numbed our pain. We could handle both the Israeli and Palestinian political, economic, and security pressure knowing that the day of salvation was approaching; the Eid. But after the three days elapsed, then what?

Now thousands of Palestinians are waiting for the next phase. It has been seven months now. Seven months, and thousands of the PA employees have not received their salaries. And two months elapsed with millions of students deprived form their right of education. I have three sisters and two brothers who do nothing but stay at home. They have not attended school from the very beginning of this term. It is both sad and frustrating that they have to “do the time” and pay a high price.

Reading the news headlines on the first days of Eid is not healthy at all. It lessens the effect of the drug, and one starts to get sober. Sounds funny in deed, but that was the case.

Few minutes ago, I surfed some of the blogs and came across few Iraqi bloggers writing on both Ramadan and Eid. If the titles did not mention “in Iraq,” I swear I could never tell the difference between Iraq and Palestine. The hunger, misery, constant killing, and lack of security are all Palestinian symptoms.

I am speechless now; I can hardly verbalize the so many conflicting thoughts. Heaven knows how things would be like next Ramadan, but I would not speculate it already. It is not time to worry about it now, other issues are on stake; food, money, and education. Until then, there are a lot of things to sort out.

Yesterday, I realized that I believe in love at first sight. Not the romantic kind, rather the sense of connecting with another human being without ever having to say a word. Indeed, the person I was so enthralled with last night was a five-month-old girl, who smiled at me and then hid her face in shyness. Those few moments of interacting with this baby lifted my spirits, but it also made me reflect in sadness about the fact that many children in this current conflict are robbed of their joy and their childhood.

I often contemplate how mature Palestinian children seem. Sure, they play the childhood games that we all played in our day, but there is wisdom in their words that is eerily sobering. Their age defines them as children, but if you have a conversation with a Palestinian child, you will realize how much awareness she has of the world around her, of suffering in the next village, in Gaza, in Lebanon. She is a child that has empathy and understands that life, by nature, is wrought with all sorts of difficulties.

A Palestinian child knows better; life is not as it is depicted in cartoons, where those who die are miraculously resurrected not once, but several times, where injuries are healed instantaneously, where death is a joke and life is a series of slapstick moments. A Palestinian child escapes into imagination, but she is never far removed from the reality of children and adults alike being indiscriminately shot outside her window, in her classroom, at the local bakery.

Who would have thought that normal things, simply walking down the street to grab a falafel sandwich, could result in your untimely death? Perhaps the Israeli army mistook the falafel stand for a bomb-making factory, or an ammunition shop? Make no mistake about it; the Israeli military have made too many “mistakes” that there is obviously a pattern there, wouldn’t you think?

A child that is robbed of the sense of security, therefore, is a child that is mature beyond her years. She knows that the bullets and the tank shells do not discriminate. Her father can shield her from the neighbor’s vicious dog, from the crazy drivers, he will hold her hand to cross the street, but he will not be able to capture a bullet in his hand like the mythological superheroes in blockbuster movies out this summer in theatres near you. He might be able to take the bullet for her though. But once gone, who will be her protective shield against the harsh reality of life that goes on in what seems the periphery of the conflict? And who will be there to share some of her joyous milestones; graduation, marriage, the birth of a child? Hers is a joy that is always overshadowed by a greater sorrow.

Is it fair that 31 Palestinian children have died in a 31-day period? A child-a-day; is that the new Israeli army mantra? Khaled was just a one-year-old, Aya was seven, Sabreen was only three. What lost potential, what lost promise – who knows what Khaled would have grown up to be? An astronaut? A veterinarian? A philosopher? What about Aya; she could have become a fashion designer, a teacher, a mother. By what right has this promise been so violently plucked and trampled upon cruelly and without a moment’s hesitation on the part of the Israeli soldier, who heartlessly unleashed a fiery rain of bullets and shells on a neighborhood as if he is in a simulated video game and those who die are fictitious and unreal? Perhaps that is what he is made to believe, otherwise, who in clear consciousness is so willing to pull the trigger and with one spray of bullets destroy life, potential and rob joy?

If you can see the smiling face of your own child, then how do you go out and unquestioningly take the life of others? If you value life, then how do you live with the burden of knowing that you have taken it so unjustifiably? Perhaps that is your perpetual punishment; the judgment of a child scorned is the harshest of them all.

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