socio-politics of palestinian identity and homeland in...
TRANSCRIPT
Socio-politics of Palestinian Identity and Homeland in Jordan Andrew Cagle – August 2012
A key: this is what has become one of the most cherished symbols, and in many cases family
possessions, for Palestinians across the world. It represents a central component to Palestinian identity
and a piece of home, lost. Kanaan King Al-Jamaal sits across from me, behind a wooden desk. The walls
are adorned with images of Palestinian nationalism: the Palestine flag, a picture of Jerusalem, and
posters with various statements about al-huq al-awda, the right of return. Kanaan is an official in the
Palestinian Liberation Organization’s (PLO) refugee affairs department. He has pulled out a small
illustrated cartoon to help explain the issue of right of return and the role it plays in the peace process
between Israel and the Palestinians. In his words, the illustration was a quick primer on how the refugee
issue is thought about on both sides and strategy for the future.
“Now we see here that the Israelis – the keys is the refugee issue – the right of return. Now, say
that we bury this key; it means [that] we kill all the memories. We delete the memories from the
minds of the refugees. And here they bury it, and here they say ‘it’s finished’. But unfortunately
for the Israeli government and the Israeli army, here - this hole, this key, right? It planted more
keys and more keys and more keys. It means that the new generation of refugees [are] being even
more committed to the issue, more than their grandparents. So, the issue is really, very
complicated now. It’s generations.”1
In the old refugee neighborhood of al-Mahatta in Amman, my friend Abu Ahmad entertained me
with stories of Jaffa. Conversation always came back to the oranges. Among the Palestinian community,
Jaffa is famous for its oranges, bortoqal. The now Israeli city of Tel Aviv-Yafo is the modern
materialization of Jaffa, what was once one of Palestine’s most notable cities. It still sits on the
Mediterranean coast just south of Tel-Aviv, the ancient, weathered white stone juxtaposed against the
glistening high-rise apartments and beach hotels of Israel’s modern capital. Jaffa’s old Arab and Jewish
neighborhoods, mixed with Greek and Armenian churches, tell of a much different Palestine, one that
lives in the memories of those who remember, and in the dreams of those who hope that it can be once
again, when it was home.
1 Kanaan King Al-Jamaal (official in the refugee affairs office of the PLO, Ramallah, Palestinian Territories), interview by Andrew Cagle and Jeffrey Frankens, July 12, 2010.
Abu Ahmad came to Jordan when he was young, only old enough to form a few childhood
memories of a pre-1948 Middle East. For him, it is his true home, regardless of the 63 years he has now
spent in Jordan. If you ask him the simple question Enta min when? Where are you from? He will reply,
Yaffa. If you ask his grandson where he is from, the answer will be the same. The response is rendered
with less familiarity and confidence, but with knowing and conviction, all the same. In Ramallah, on the
wall behind Kanaan, one poster bearing a picture of a key reads: Ana min Yaffa. Wa enta? I am from
Jaffa. And you?2
The Palestinian Diaspora and the refugee issue has not only reshaped the Israeli-Palestinian conflict,
but has transformed the domestic politics of the surrounding Arab nations, as well. Understanding the
complexity of the refugee issue is key to opening up the ability to approach social and political topics in
the Levant with the nuance required to grasp implications of current events and public policy. Among
diaspora communities, Jordan is the host country with the largest population of Palestinian refugees and
their descendants. The question of Palestine and return changes with each year, but it a holds a constant
presence in the socio-politics of the Levant. What is Palestinian identity in Jordan? How has it changed
over time? And what implications does the refugee issue, and that of national identity hold for Jordan?
Bayt A common question asked by non-Arabs about the question of Palestine goes somewhat like this:
“Why can’t Palestinians just choose to make their home outside of Palestine and be Jordanian?” The
question of assimilation is a good one, and crucial to the refugee issue. However, that question brings to
the surface a fundamental rift in how Americans and Arabs perceive national identity and the idea of
home. It starts to go beyond the boundaries of political discourse and into the realm of social
psychology.
In Arabic, the word for home is bayt. There is no translation in English that can fully capture the
depth and full meaning of the word in Arabic. In his memoir, Lebanese-American journalist Anthony
Shadid writes:
“Bayt translates literally as house, but its connotations resonate beyond rooms and walls,
summoning longing gathered about family and home. In the Middle East, bayt is sacred. Empires
fall. Nations topple. Border may shift or be realigned. Old loyalties may dissolve or, without
2 Conversations with Abu Ahmad (shoe seller), Amman, Jordan, Summer 2010.
warning, be altered. Home, whether it be structure or familiar ground, is, finally, the identity
that does not fade.”3
This understanding of bayt is at the core of the refugee issue and right of return. The Israeli-Palestinian
conflict is often portrayed as being about land. It is as much, if not more, about everything that
comprises this idea of bayt: memories, pride, identity.
Sitting outside the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian Refugees in the Near
East (UNRWA) field office in Jebel Hussein camp, the local sheikh pulls out a clear plastic bag and
hands it to Ghazi Bukhari, the UNRWA station chief for the camp. Inside the bag are old documents,
laminated to preserve their integrity. Under the shade of grape vines, a group of elderly men gathered to
present articles from colonial Palestine. The first document was a passport, issued by the British
authorities in the pre-1948 Palestinian mandate. Stuck in between the worn pages of the travel document
was a picture of the young sheikh, his gray beard replaced by jet-black hair and a mustache. Next,
Bukhari pulled out three laminated papers, the weathered, brown material showing its age, 76 years old.
The documents were land deeds issued by the British in 1934.
The top of the pages read Palestine Government and Certificate of Registration in Arabic. “It
says here he has one – almost two dunums of land in Jaffa,” said Ghazi. A dunum is a measurement of
landholdings in the Levant, originating during Ottoman rule. At the time this document was created, two
dunums would equal half and acre of land.4 “Fi eindahom maftah al-bayt mawjood…” began the
mukhtar, who was joined with us in a circle around the precious pieces of history. “They have the
original keys for their places [in Palestine], and they are waiting to go back, and take the key and open
the door…” repeated Ghazi, translating for the community elder.5 These preserved pieces of paper held
more than ink. Hope and righteous claim to home dwelt on the pages and in the eyes of the men holding
them. As long as the keys and the paper existed, home existed. It was merely a matter of waiting for the
appointed time of return.
3Anthony Shadid, House of Stone (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2012), Kindle edition. 4 ‘Encyclopedia of the Middle East – dunum”, accessed July 18, 2012, www.mideastweb.org/Middle-East-Encyclopedia/dunum.htm. 5 Ghazi Bukhari (UNRWA station chief, Jebel Hussein Camp, Amman, Jordan), interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham, July 1, 2010.
Right of Return Al-haq al-awda, “the right of return”. This is what millions of Palestinians across the world wait
patiently, and impatiently for – the right to return home. When the UNRWA began its mandate to serve
Palestinian refugees in 1950, the number Palestinians waiting to return was 750,000. 6 It is difficult to
procure an accurate number of the Palestinians displaced in 1948 by al-Nakba, ‘the catastrophe’. The
best calculation of Palestinians displaced by the 1948 Arab-Israeli war and the civil war during the year
preceding Israel’s founding is the figures from the UNRWA’s first registration of refugees in 1950.
Today, the number of Palestinians waiting to exercise their right of return sits at 6.3 million.7
At the political level, the desire from the Palestinian view is to keep the issue alive, “…alive in
front of the international offices and desks, in the United Nations and everywhere. And most important
is to keep it alive inside the hearts of the people themselves,” said Al-Jamaal, of the PLO. The right to
return home is a “collective right” shared by all Palestinians, he continued; and it is crucial because “the
issue itself is really one of the basic issues towards the final status with [the] Israelis… without a just
solution for this [refugee] issue, there wouldn’t be really, real peace with the Israelis.”8
One of the most glaring points of contention in conversation about this final status is what is
meant by ‘right of return’, and return to where? For many Palestinians, home lies within the borders of
the occupied West Bank. For others, their historical family home lies inside what is now the state of
Israel. For refugees like Abu Ahmad and the sheikh in Jebel Hussein, returning means going back to a
place that is now within the borders of Israel. When many refugees talk of the right of return, it carries
both political and pragmatic meaning, differing in connotation and implication for each individual.
There is not necessarily one universal connotation attached to the term ‘right of return.’
When some Palestinians talk of al-haq al-awda, they are referring to the day when they will
return to their original home in pre-1948 Palestine, whether it be within the borders of Gaza, the West
Bank, or Israel. Others, when invoking right of return, are implicitly referring to the right for refugees to
return back to the West Bank and Gaza, a new Palestine, part of a two-state solution. The immediate and
6 “Palestine Refugees”, accessed July 18, 2012, http://www.unrwa.org/etemplate.php?id=86. 7 Mark Levine, “Why Palestinians have a right to return home”, Al-Jazeera English Online, September 23, 2011, accessed July 12, 2012, http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2011/09/2011922135540203743.html. 8 Kanaan King Al-Jamaal (official in the refugee affairs office of the PLO, Ramallah, Palestinian Territories), interview by Andrew Cagle and Jeffrey Frankens, July 12, 2010.
clear implication is that the former understanding of right of return creates possibly the largest
fundamental obstacle in the peace process. Israel is a nation and member of the international community
with sovereign rights that will not be dissolving anytime soon. The increasing Judiazation of Israel and
nature of its own nationalism shows no signs of accepting repatriation of refugees within the nation’s
borders.9 The result is an impasse between the two parties. The latter informal understanding of right of
return presents more feasible options for realizing the exercise of this right and ability to negotiate
plausible terms with the Israeli government.
In Bethlehem, there are two UNRWA camps for Palestinians that became refugees during al-
nakba in 1948 and IDPs during al-naksa, ‘the setback’, in 1967. These camps throughout the West Bank
continue to house descendants of refugees and new residents, a result of continuous home demolitions
and Israeli settlement in the West Bank. Near the entrance of Dheisheh Camp is a sign with a heading in
Arabic and English that reads “Q’rar haq al-awda – UN Resolution 194.” Underneath, Article 11 of
United Nations Resolution 194 is written in both languages. This is the codified form of right of return,
and the legal basis that Palestinians construct their claim upon. The resolution is also crucial, because it
sets the standard starting point for international law and arbitration by third parties. Article 11 of the
resolution deals specifically with the refugee issue posed in December 1948 when it was written. Article
11 reads:
“Resolves that the refugees wishing to return to their homes and live at peace with their
neighbours should be permitted to do so at the earliest practicable date, and that compensation
should be paid for the property of those choosing not to return and for loss of or damage to
property which, under principles of international law or in equity, should be made good by the
Governments or authorities responsible; Instructs the Conciliation Commission to facilitate the
repatriation, resettlement and economic and social rehabilitation of the refugees and the
payment of compensation, and to maintain close relations with the Director of the United
Nations Relief for Palestine Refugees and, through him, with the appropriate organs and
agencies of the United Nations;”10
9 Harriet Sherwood, “Israel proposes Jewish state loyalty oath for new citizens”, The Guardian, October 10, 2010, accessed July 13, 2012, http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/oct/10/israel-jewish-oath-new-citizens. 10 “Palestine Progress Raport of the United Nations Mediator”, 11 December 1948, http://daccess-dds-ny.un.org/doc/RESOLUTION/GEN/NR0/043/65/IMG/NR004365.pdf?OpenElement.
While there are two main courses that right of return follows in the Palestinian conversation, this is most
commonly held as the standard, in terms of connotative and political meaning. When it comes to
international arbitration, Resolution 194 is the starting point for negotiations. For Palestinians, it gives
legal legitimacy, albeit through international law, to this key piece of the peace puzzle.
Defining Refugee and Conceptualizing Identity
To understand the refugee issue, one must first know to whom the term laeja, or ‘refugee’,
applies. The case of the Palestinian Diaspora is unique in comparison to most refugee situations. When
most people hear the term refugee, it conjures up images of places like Dadaab in northern Kenya, or
families fleeing from current all-out conflicts. What makes the Palestinian case unique is that the
original group of refugees in 1948, and their descendants, have not been able to return home. The
UNRWA defines a Palestinian refugee as, “people whose normal place of residence was Palestine
between June 1946 and May 1948, who lost both their homes and means of livelihood as a result of the
1948 Arab-Israeli conflict.”11 Additionally, the classification has been extended to include the phrase
“and their descendants” in the operational definition used by the United Nations. Matar Saqer, head of
media relations for the UNRWA in Jordan, explains two important aspects of the definition. “The
refugee status, if you are a registered refugee, it means two things – to be registered with UNRWA.
Number one is that you are entitled to receive UNRWA services, if you are in need of these services.
And secondly, you are entitled to whatever solution may be reached to the refugee problem, in the
future.”12 For two-thirds of the Palestinian refugees in the region, and the vast majority in Jordan, the
second benefit is the most important of registration. Just over 350,000 refugees in Jordan live in camps.13
This is the demographic most in need of UNRWA services. However, eligibility for services is not
solely based on camp residence, but on need. In Jordan, camp residents represent some of the poorest
families and individuals in the kingdom.
In terms of identity, that refugee status is also an element of one’s cultural identity as a
Palestinian in the diaspora. For Palestinians, it is a mark, or a reminder, that they are still long-term
visitors. Defining this has become key in understanding Palestinian identity. Sociologist Riad Nasser
11 “Palestine Refugees”, accessed August 4, 2012, http://www.unrwa.org/etemplate.php?id=86. 12 Matar Saqer (Head of media relations, UNRWA field office, Amman, Jordan), interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham, June 21, 2010. 13 “UNRWA in Figures”, (report based on January 1, 2012 figures), http://www.unrwa.org/userfiles/20120317152850.pdf
addresses the debate over essentialist and constructionist approaches to nationalism in his book on
identity. “The second problem is the unresolved debate over whether nations and nationalism are
‘naturally’ and ‘organically’ developing, or being politically constructed.”14 From observations in
Jordan, I would argue that it is a hybrid of both. In the case of Palestinian identity, there is a
foundational element of heritage and history, family roots and origins of home. This is organic. This
continues to shift in form as each generation passes through its own unique experiences as a society. In
the post-World War Middle East, borders drawn by colonial powers have divided existing communities
and created new political identities. Much of the conflict in the region is a continuing manifestation of
nations and societies resolving this new paradigm. Bilad ashaam is now Syria, Lebanon, and Jordan.
Where the kaleidoscope of religion, ethnicity, and culture interacted more harmoniously, greater friction
between groups and factions is now present.
Palestinian identity can be accurately described by what Helena Lindholm and Julianne Hammer
refer to as ‘nationalism through transnationlism.’ All Palestinians are not in exile; some are in their
geographic home, but without a state. “The specific characteristics of the Palestinian diaspora amount to
the juxtaposition of experiences of moving/wandering and being stranded/imprisoned at the same
time.”15 The refugee experience and shared tie to a common homeland create a nationalism that
transcends political borders. This excerpt from Mahmoud Darwish’s poem “You as of now, are someone
else!” lyrically captures the space in time that Palestinian identity occupies: “Oh past, do not change
us… the further away we move from you! Oh future: do not ask us: who are you? And what do you
want from me? We too have no clue. Oh present, bear with us a little, we are no more than dreary
passers by!”16
Jordan: Identity in the Diaspora
Each host country for Palestinian refugees carries its own story and unique situation. Much of the
current Palestinian identity has been shaped by the Arab-Israeli conflict and decades of life living in
diaspora communities. National identity as a Palestinian will carry many similarities for a refugee from
14 Riad Nasser, Palestinian Identity in Jordan and Israel, (New York: Routledge 2005), 11. 15 Helena Lindholm Shulz and Juliane Hammer, The Palestinian Diaspora: Formation of identities and politics of homeland, (London: Routledge 2003), 227. 16 Mahmoud Darwish, “You, as of now, are someone else!” http://www.mahmouddarwish.com/english/Poetry.htm.
Lebanon and a refugee from Jordan, but many aspects of how they perceive identity and home will have
been formed by their own unique diaspora environment. Jordan is home to the largest number of
Palestinians in the world, outside of the West Bank. Currently, 1,979,580 Palestinians are registered
with the UNRWA in Jordan.17 Making up 40% of Jordan’s population, the “refugee demographic” is of
growing importance in domestic society and politics on both banks of the Jordan River.
For the diaspora community in Jordan, home is next door, yet an impossible distance away.
Amman and Jerusalem sit a mere 45 miles apart, but for nearly all Palestinians that reside in Jordan,
making the pilgrimage is nothing more than a dream at this point in time. It is a dream of home kept
alive through the utterance of the word ‘someday’, spoken with tired eyes by those who have been
waiting decades, and with an air of hopeful reassurance by the young, believing it will be their
generation who will realize the promise of return.
After sixty-three years of living the question of return, the question arises of “How do Palestinian
refugees in Jordan view their own identity and the idea of home, and what does this look like across
generations?” In the Levant, or bilad ashaam (greater Syria), identity has undergone a rapid and
tumultuous process of change, formation, and solidification since World War I and the end of the
Ottoman period. A more freely traveled Levant saw borders thrown onto maps and dividing lines drawn
in the sand. The region saw pan-Arabism fight with nationalism and Islamism movements in the battle
for identity and how it would shape the new political paradigm of the Middle East. “These new entities,
artificial as they might initially have been, shaped different political, social, and cultural communities,
which gradually acquired lives of their own.”18 Scattered throughout this new Middle East were
Palestinian refugees striving to hold onto a unique identity, while feeling like visitors abroad and
prisoners at home.
The concept of identity and nationalism is easy to understand when taken at a glance, but upon
more rigorous inspection it becomes difficult to attain a solid grasp on what it means to us as individuals
and how its nuance shapes our societies. Nasser writes on the subject of conceptualizing identity, saying
“At the societal level, nothing is more important to consider than the way in which society shapes one’s
sense of national identity.” He continues to posit that nationhood is “constructed out of social
17 “UNRWA in Figures”, last modified January 2012, accessed July 21, 2012, http://www.unrwa.org/userfiles/20120317152850.pdf. 18 Meir Litvak, Palestinian Collective Memory and National Identity, (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 9.
interactions” and as those take on “a life of their own”, they act “back upon us.”19 This view suggests
that shared experience in a society is a key element in the composition of national identity, and
furthermore, that it is a continual process. Individuals shape their identity as their identity shapes them.
It is a dynamic process that is not fixed, and consists of two elements that continuously play off each
other. In the Palestinian case, this leads to shared identity as a global community and a more localized
identity at the national level, in each diaspora community.
In Jordan, we examined two focal generations of Palestinian refugees, the old and the young. In
stricter terms, there are really three generations of refugees. The first is the original generation of
Palestinians that became refugees in 1948. The second is their children, and to some extent, the
Palestinians displaced in the Six Days War, or al-naksa (the setback) in 1967. The third generation is the
children of the second, and the grandchildren of the original 1948 refugees. For the purposes of the
paper, I will simplify these distinctions and group the first and second generations of refugees together.
The major patterns and distinctions in opinions and views on the issue of identity and right of return
emerge with the younger generation, mainly individuals under thirty. This is not to say that there is a
complete paradigm shift, but the relationship between the younger society and their identity becomes
unique in comparison to that of their parents and grandparents.
Most of the focus on Palestinian identity and nationalism in Jordan will be on the younger
generation. This new generation is shaping Palestinian society, the future of Palestine, and the diaspora
communities. The older generation allows us to understand the roots of Palestinian identity and the
foundation of the refugee narrative that continues on, today. For refugees, their parents and grandparents
are the most valuable connection they have to home. The memories remain alive in their hearts and
minds, but only the original generation of refugees carries the visceral memories and tangible experience
of bayt -- and also of flight.
Older Generation “Your first discovery when you travel,’ wrote Elizabeth Hardwick, ‘is that you do not exist.’ In
other words, it is not just the others who have been left behind; it is all of you that is known.
Gone is the power or punishment of your family name, the hard earned-reputations of forebears,
no longer familiar to anyone, not in this new place. Gone are those who understand how you
became yourself. Gone are the reasons lurking in the past that might excuse your mistakes. Gone 19 Riad Nasser, Palestinian Identity in Jordan and Israel, (New York: Routledge 2005), 1.
is everything beyond your name on the day of your arrival, and even that may ultimately be
surrendered.”20
For Palestinians today, al-nakba is where the journey began. The last memories of home, and
leaving home, reside with current elders of the Palestinian refugee community. They hold the last
tangible connection to home, and asl, origin. In Jordan, ask a teenager “Where you from?” You may
hear Tulkarm, Gaza, Jaffa, or min aslee al-Quds, my original place is Jerusalem. You will not hear
Amman, Jerash, or Zarqa mentioned. This asl comes from their grandparents and great-grandparents.
Memories, heritage, and origins are fundamental elements in the heirloom and continuity of identity. To
understand how heritage and memories shape identity today, one must hear the experiences of older
refugees, the original travelers.
“We went only with our clothes, we left everything else. We left our houses -- the places that we
lived and fled with our clothes. And I remember exactly that night. I remember that day with sorrow. On
that day I was 13 or 14. We left without direction. People here and there, we gathered all together.
Women were crying. Even men were crying.” The pain of reliving these moments was visible on
Mahmoud’s face. Mahmoud Moussa Musharef is 77 years old. Ever since 1948 he has lived in refugee
camps in Jordan. He has been in his current home, Talbieh, since 1967. The former mukhtar sits in a
white thobe and gutra. He leans his lanky frame against a pillow propped up against the wall, relaxed but
retaining the presence of distinction. During his recounting of the days he left home, he has to pause. All
his composure has left. In front of visitors, and a woman, the elder and community leader removes his
glasses and wipes tears from his eyes with the cloth of his gutra. “I have strong feelings when I
remember. I’m so sorry. That’s a hard memory. We experienced sorrow and we suffered a lot from
Israel. I am very sorry. I can feel it,” he says, using the word marara in Arabic to express his sorrow,
something deeper than mere sadness, or hozn.
“In 1967 I came from Palestine [Transjordan-West Bank], to Talbieh camp. We started in tents.”
This is how it began for most refugees. Whether in 1948 or 1967, war pushed them into Jordan for what
was thought to be a short stay. After a year or two in tents, no one was returning home. Tent filled
camps gave way to permanent structures and simple concrete units. “They divided us up, one family per
room.” Each family was given a housing unit, 3.5x4.5 meters. Ever since that time, this is what
20 Anthony Shadid, House of Stone (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2012), Kindle edition.
Mahmoud has known. When asked about right of return, he replied, “Let me ask you a question. If they
take you out of your home in America and they tell you ‘you cannot go back home.’ What would you
do? It is your watn (homeland)… my home is my dignity, my honor, my life.”21
Younger Generation
Identity is akin to an organism; it is dynamic. The interplay between inheritance and formation of
identity in the case of the Palestinian community comes from the memories of the older generation and
the formational experiences of the young. In this way, it retains its essence, but comes into its own with
each generation. In Talbieh refugee camp, teenagers have recently finished a project documenting the
memories of Palestine as told by elders in the community.22 This is their way of keeping their heritage
alive. It is a preservation of the ‘essence.’ To best understand how this new generation of Palestinians
views their identity and right of return, we have to examine general attitudes and the nuances within the
spectrum.
In order to garner the most accurate picture of aggregate views on the subject of identity and
right of return is to inspect the public opinion data. For the purposes of looking at perceptions of
nationalism among the Palestinian population in Jordan, there is a lack of data. Isolation of trends in
Jordan through public opinion polling is non-existent. The majority of research on the politics of identity
and return has assessed general attitudes either across all five major host countries, within Israel proper,
or within Israel and the occupied West Bank and Gaza. While the politics of identity in Jordan has been
more widely written about, there are only two main studies examine preferences regarding right of
return among Palestinian refugees across the Levant.
One explanation for the possible lack of information on refugee preferences comes from the
BADIL Resource Center for Palestinian Residency and Refugee Rights. In a memo published in 1999,
they argue that most public opinion polls on the issue stray from the common practice of “[serving] as
an instrument to obtain a better picture of the mechanisms and resources required in order to solve a
specific refugee problem in a way that meets refugee preferences.” Instead they have been “used in an
21 Mahmoud Moussa Musharaf, (community elder, Talbieh refugee camp, Al-Jiza, Jordan), interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham, July 2010. 22 Personal experience in Talbieh, Summer of 2010, and correspondence with Anas Matar Albrbrawi in Talbieh, Al-Jiza, Jordan.
effort to question the legitimacy of refugee rights codified in international law.”23 Due to a modern
history of interaction with Israel, the West, and Arab nations filled questionable motives, seeds of
mistrust have been planted in the region’s Palestinian population. After feeling unwelcome by host
nations and seen as obstacles in the way of self-interest by Israel and the West, refugees are wary of
efforts to delegitimize their rights. Our personal interviews on the topic of identity in Jordan were often
met with initial caution and questioning of intentions.
Of the two surveys, one helps construct a picture of generational patterns in relation to right of
return, the second offers little in relation to trends and views regarding nationalism, but is of some use
when discussing political implications of identity on domestic and regional politics. The first is the only
survey found to break down response analysis by age rather than solely geography. When looking at the
results of the polls it is important to note that the geographic sample of respondents includes only
Palestinians in Israel, the West Bank, and the Gaza strip. The questionnaire’s 18 questions related to
issues surrounding the peace process in general and right of return. Of relevance to this paper is the
findings analysis regarding age. The sample was divided into four age groups, with 85% being born after
Israel’s founding in 1948.
This poll cannot be accurately translated onto the Jordanian refugee population, and should not
be. However, it does add value to less scientific research into the topic of generational patterns in
Jordan. This is in large part due to the dual transnational and national nature of Palestinian identity.
Another important detail to take into consideration when examining the data is that the survey was
conducted in 1999, before the second intifada, Camp David Summit, and “Quartet” of nations meetings.
While each community is different, there are shared transnational views that extend beyond borders. In
the survey, there were four specific trends to pay attention to.
The first is how Palestinians rank issues within the peace process in order of importance. “Wit[h]
regard to importance, Jerusalem maintained its position at the top of the list. The 18-25 and 36-45 age
groups placed the refugee issue in second place in the three combined choices, while the 26-35 placed
the refugee issue in second place, and the remaining two age groups placed the refugee issue in the
fourth place in the combined list of choices.” There is a clear relationship from the data that the refugee
issue has not faded in importance over time, and has possibly grown in importance. The questions here
remain, “Does the older generation place less importance because they know that they have less of a
23 “Public Opinion Polls and the Right of Return”, published October 1999, http://www.badil.org/en/press-releases/52-press-releases-1999/127-press73-99.
chance of returning in their lifetime? Is it because relocation is easier for younger adults? Or is the
younger generation more committed to right of return than their parents?”
The second trend is in regards to feasibility, “…with regard to feasibility of Resolution 194, its
endorsement among the younger groups reached a high of 67%, compared to around to 40% among the
older ones.” Related to the first trend, this could be an influencer on ranking the importance of the
refugee issue. It also raises the question, “Is the younger generation more optimistic and idealistic
regarding return?”
The third trend, while the minority response, shows a significant relationship in difference
between generations. “Settling the refugees in their current places of residence was accepted by mere
3% for the younger groups, to around 9% for the older ones.” The gap covers six percentage points, but
is a 300 percent increase over the older generation of Palestinians. This issue of resettlement is crucial
when examining the refugee question and identity in Jordan.
Lastly, the fourth trend relates to the element of transnationalism and its implications on regional
politics and return. One topic where findings changed very little across generations was “…the question
of whether or not they have relatives among the refugees. Bearing in mind that the Palestinian refugees
are into their fourth generation now, we discover that among the 18-25, 16% did not answer or said they
do not know, compared to 6% for the 26-35, 4% for the 36-60 groups, and 12% for those who are 60
years of age and older.”24 Even among the youngest refugees, this means we can assume that 84% of
refugees outside of Israel and the Occupied Territories have relatives within Israel proper and Palestine.
After living outside of one’s homeland for over half a century, the question of assimilation and
shifting identity arises. For Palestinian refugees in Jordan, the immediate topic of curiosity is whether
the younger generation of Palestinians is becoming less tied their identity as Palestinians and less
concerned with right of return. Had a life growing up away from home changed how they viewed home?
The short answer to this question is no. It is more nuanced than this in reality, but for the
majority of young Palestinians in Jordan, home is still Palestine. They view themselves as Palestinian
and are waiting to return. The root of the identity question lies in what keeps the dream of return alive,
and with return, their home and identity. “Even if there is a solution for this refugee issue, inside they
will have their memories. And these memories, it’s [an] issue. It’s cultural itself,” says Kanaan al-
24 Zureik, Elia, “Public Opinion and Palestinian Refugees”, Report Submitted to the International Development Research Centre, Ottawa, last modified December 1999, http://prrn.mcgill.ca/research/papers/zureik3.htm.
Jamaal. “It’s generations.”25 Through the generations, the memories and experiences of the first
generation of refugees have been passed down to children and grandchildren. More than the keys to a
home in Jerusalem or a land deed for dunums in Jaffa, memories are the most precious heirloom in
Palestinian families. “They have a lot of beautiful memories, their home, their friends, everything.” Says
Yasser Khaleef, “[Passing] from them to us” Anas chimes in.
“We all shall return someday” is Yasser’s message to the Palestinian community across the
world. We are sitting in a small shelter in Yasser’s backyard in Amman. Around a table, four university
students, all young men, gather to talk about their different views on identity, return, and home. The four
students are all Palestinian Jordanians – the descendants of Palestinian refugees in Jordan. Nested under
a fig and an olive tree behind the Khaleef family’s apartment is a small shelter built to represent the
home of Yasser’s father in Bethlehem. “This place, my father made it because he have the same place
exactly in Palestine. When he sit here, he says he has all the memories for when he was children in
Palestine.” The timber walls are a collection of Palestinian culture, and the tangible result of memories
kept alive. By the door is the representation of a large key constructed of plastic and metal. Below reads
matfah al-awda, key of return. On the wall, Yasser points to a map, “…with all the Palestinian villages.
This map is whole Palestine, before 1948” he explains. Next to the map is a poster of the renowned
Mahmoud Darwish, Palestine’s poet laureate. Printed over a profile of Darwish is a line from the poem
“Mural.” 26 Ana huba al-qomha illetee maatat lakee tahkdar thaania. “I am the dying grain of wheat that
grows green again.” In a phoenix-like prose, Darwish, through death, gives hope for rebirth.27
The hope for Yasser, Anas, Faras, and Khaled is that they would see that grain grow green in
their lifetime. There was a unanimous longing to return to the only place that was true home to them, the
original places of their families in Palestine, Tulkarm, Bethlehem, and Ramallah. The invisible barrier
between them and their homeland was illustrated after our recent trip to the West Bank came up. “You
are from US and you can go to my father’s home. Actually you have been. You did go to our land. You
did go to our home, but we can’t,” lamented, Anas. The irony and exasperation in his voice was
25 Kanaan King Al-Jamaal (official in the refugee affairs office of the PLO, Ramallah, Palestinian Territories), interview by Andrew Cagle and Jeffrey Frankens, July 12, 2010. 26 “Mahmoud Darwish”, accessed August 2, 2012, http://www.sakakini.org/literature/mdarwish.htm. 27 Yasser Khaleef, Anas Hamshahri, Faras Naser, and Khaled, (students at Jordan University, Amman, Jordan), interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham, August 3, 2010.
palpable. I, an outsider, with no trouble, had walked in the coveted land they had only seen through
pictures and memories.
“I don’t think we are very much different from our parents, but – our parents was living in
Palestine. They were forced to go out. So, the only difference [is] that they were not trying enough to go
back there. So, we are trying more and we are trying to teach our kids and tell our generation: we have
to go back,” said Faras, answering the question of what differences existed between his generation of
Palestinians and that of his parents. It is the trend of continuity among the young generation of refugees,
but differs in the fact that the shared desire for return has grown over time, not diminished. It echoes the
words of Kanaan Jamaal remarking that, “…the new generation of refugees [are] being even more
committed to the issue, more than their grandparents.”28
As Yasser says, Palestine lives in the hearts and minds of the refugees. “If we stop thinking
about Palestine -- there is no one -- our children will not think about Palestine. We will start and teach
our children that maybe if not us, they will do it, they will go back to Palestine.” If the memories die,
home dies along with them. In the diaspora, the dream of return is has grown stronger in the way that the
longing for something desired does as time passes. There is the hypothesis that identity will fade and the
longing will decrease over the years, but Faras says that there is little visible change between the
generations of his parents and his peers. “I don’t think we are very much different from our parents, but
– our parents was living in Palestine. They were forced to go out. So, the only difference [is] that they
were not trying enough to go back there. So, we are trying more and we are trying to teach our kids and
tell our generation: we have to go back.” In Faras’ voice there is a dualistic tinge of urgency and
patience. For Yasser and him, as long as return comes to the Palestinian people, they are joyful. Whether
it is beyond or within their lifetime, its ultimate arrival is the goal. And at the same time, everyone asks
the question, “Hasn’t sixty-four years been long enough?”
For Anas, “Home is a place in Palestine. For sure in Palestine.” While Jordan may contain his
immediate family and be where he has grown up, it still lacks the roots of bayt. The meaning of home is
a question we asked everyone we interview in Jordan and the West Bank. In Anas’ opinion, true home is
in Palestine. Most Palestinian-Jordanians express sentiments similar to Faras, “Home means safety.
Home means the place where I came from, and where my father came from. Home means the place
28 Kanaan King Al-Jamaal (official in the refugee affairs office of the PLO, Ramallah, Palestinian Territories), interview by Andrew Cagle and Jeffrey Frankens, July 12, 2010.
where I can build things without the fear that these things will crumble down, to be wasted. Home is the
place where I can live there.” Home is a place of security. While Jordan may provide security, he has no
history in the country beyond his lifetime.
Journalist Anthony Shadid’s memoir, House of Stone, gives deep insight into his own personal
journey into identity. A Lebanese-American, he was born and raised in Oklahoma. In 2006, he returned
to restore the stone house built by his great-grandfather in the town of Marjayoun. “To my family,
separated or reunited, Isber’s house makes a statement: Remember the past. Remember Marjayoun.
Remember who you are.”29 The Palestine that lives in the hearts and minds of refugees is in large part
about remembering who they are. It is not easy for someone to shed the identity given to them by their
family. Identity is stronger than nationalism. Palestinian transnationalism comes from pride for their
community, and the civil society formed that culture. Identity adds to patriotism an element of family,
deep belonging, and purpose. It is fundamental to the way a person views and understands his or herself.
“You just feel happy in your country, your home country. Maybe you didn’t see it, but I’m sure,
[if I was] in Palestine right now, I would be the most happy person in the world. Because it was my
father country, my grandfather country… I have my government. It is mine. I can say anything I want to
make it better.” This is Yasser describing what home means to him. His response brings out the element
of ownership among young Palestinians in Jordan. Just as the poetry of Mahmoud Darwish conveys the
emotions of dispossession, the theme continues in whay Yasser and Faras are saying. Whether it be a
house or civil society, they have a desire to build a society they can uniquely call their own. Manar, a
refugee in Sweden, uses the word “incorporated” to describe what home in Jerusalem would be like in
contrast to living in Europe. Following Manar’s statement in the book, The Palestinian Diaspora,
Helena Schulz writes, “In Palestine, Manar feels incorporated; she needs only to be, while taking part in
Sweden requires action. Staying in Sweden… therefore means that important aspects of at-homeness are
forever subdued.”30
In Palestinian Identity in Jordan and Israel, Nasser writes, “…we need to look at national
identity as a process of ‘production’ where self and Other are dialectically related. Thus instead of
29 Anthony Shadid, House of Stone (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2012), Kindle edition. 30 Helena Lindholm Shulz and Juliane Hammer, The Palestinian Diaspora: Formation of identities and politics of homeland, (London: Routledge 2003), 192.
conceiving identity as a ‘fixed’, identity becomes dynamic and changes over time and space.”31 This
assertion of a dynamic identity can be seen to be true amongst the younger generation of refugees. They
share many cultural similarities, but have been shaped by their environment and experiences. The
defining experience for the original generation of refugees was the flight away from home,
dispossession and tragedy. They knew home and know first hand what it is like to be uprooted. Older
Palestinians feel the true weight of exile. Furthermore, their lives and memories are the foundation for
the younger generation’s identity and vision of home.
Memories and culture, passed down through family, serve as the basis of a new identity. The
new experiences and environment of the Palestinians growing up in exile shape how they view identity
and return. In Jerash, Jordan, Mahmoud sits on a concrete wall next to a basketball court at the UNRWA
secondary school. The school is part of Gaza Camp, Jordan’s worst refugee camp in terms of living
conditions and unemployment. Mahmoud is 15 years old and wants to be a translator when he grows up.
His dream is to go home to Gaza, where his grandparents are from, but any good job is a ticket out of the
current prison of poverty. For the young refugees in camps, the dream of return represents the “perfect
life”, an escape. “I would like to go back to Palestine, because I will find my rights there, not here…
When I go back to Gaza and there is peace, it will be like the perfect life for us. Because we don’t have
the perfect life right now.”
I asked Mahmoud about the differences in how he and his parents viewed and thought about
Palestine. “The difference between opinions, is that the old people – or the big people – knew Palestine
and lived there for a while, in Palestine. They know about Palestine more than us. And we just know
Palestine from the TV, from the newspapers, the school. That’s all we know about Palestine – from our
parents, from the old people. We didn’t see Palestine, in fact. But I think they would like to go back to
Palestine more than us, because they lived there.” In his response, Mahmoud reveals a crucial element in
the “production” process of his generation’s identity. He receives the Palestinian identity as his heritage
from his father. The formation of his and his generations’ national identity is shaped by their host
country environment and the news from the West Bank and Gaza that filters in through the media.
The vast majority of refugees also have relatives and friends in the Occupied Palestinian
Territories (OPT). This transnationalism is what holds the diaspora community together. Refugees in
Jordan experience life in Palestine through the stories told by their family members in Gaza, Ramallah,
31 Riad Nasser, Palestinian Identity in Jordan and Israel, (New York: Routledge 2005), 20.
or Tulkarm. They experience conflict and political events through what they see on television and read
in newspapers. For refugees with family in the OPT, a newspaper headline or broadcast story is more
than just news. It is the story of their family’s life. Each peace talk, summit, protest, or conflict is a
chapter in their nation’s history unfolding. They are constantly waiting, watching, and hoping for signs
that freedom and self-determination are on the horizon. For Mahmoud and Palestinians a little older,
they have grown up watching the worst of the occupation. They are the “intifada generation.” They have
witnessed two violent and tragic breaking points in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Between the two
popular uprisings, national and world leaders filled the gap with disappointing failures in diplomacy.
Witnessing and experiencing these events vicariously creates stronger passions of nationalism and has
had a profound affect on the refugee issue. It is the process described in Kanaan Al-Jamaal’s anecdote
on right of return. The more the Israelis work to wipe out right of return, the greater the desire for return
grows amongst the Diaspora. It also depends the longing for their home to be peaceful and secure, even
they are living a country away. The ties and bonds of transnationalism deepen. He says he will continue
to teach his children about Palestine, just as his parents did.
For Mahmoud, like everyone, the key component everyone is waiting for is peace. Home can
never be fully complete without security. “I think the situation in Gaza is worse than here because of the
war, and the attacking from [Israel] -- and they don’t have the food. Here, I think it’s better this while…
but in the past they say it was better in Gaza because they had the peace – the everything” he says.
“And the beach”, his face turning to a smile as he mentions the dream of seeing the Mediterranean,
common among Palestinians.32
Mahmoud represents the growing number of Palestinians that hold tightly to their identity, but
feel less connected. They are aware of the differences between their parents and them, but are committed
to return and Palestine as home, just the same. However, there is a very small, but new phenomenon
amongst the younger generation of Palestinians in Jordan. A trend I encountered with only one person
amongst the descendants of refugees. The one person that diverged from the mainstream generational
patterns was Anas Matar Albrbrawi. In fact, recently Anas informed me that he preferred not be thought
of as a refugee. He wrote in a message, “I want to remind you something. I hope that you do not write
about me as a refugee. Because this thing bothers me and hurts my feelings.”33
32 Mahmoud, (refugee in Gaza Camp, Jerash, Jordan) interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham. 33 Personal correspondence with Anas Matar Albrbrawi, July 13, 2012.
I became friends with Anas in the summer of 2010. He lives in mukhiem Talbieh in Al-Jiza,
Jordan. The Talbieh refugee camp is an UNRWA camp home to refugees from 1948, internally
displaced persons (IDPs) from 1967, and their descendants. The small, and dense urban community is a
30-minute bus ride south of Amman on the King’s Highway. It is surrounded by the rural town of Al-
Jiza and farmlands that provide an open plain for wind and dust to sweep across in the summer. Ana
shares a modest home with his brother and father. In the room we normally meet in, the walls are
covered with art. In one corner is a four-foot-tall sculpture made from materials salvaged from the camp
dump. A door from the original housing units built with donations from Iran has become a large canvas
for an oil painting. This is his passion and gift. Anas’ art is filled with themes of life, death, humanity,
and his favorite: peace. “I wish if I can, make something that’s uh, something about work – talk about
the peace. The land of the peace. Letter for the world… I wish I can make it, big, like built -- big one --
called all the world, like uh, the bridge of Paris. To be, something. Say: we want the peace.”
For Anas, home and identity isn’t about one place. “The land, for the god, not for the people. I
believe that.” Anas has a unique worldview; and that shapes his attitudes towards identity. Home is
where you can have “the good life.” The most important component? Peace and work. The conflict
between Israel and the Palestinians is a matter of true desire. “We heard, we heard about Palestine, about
the Israelis. All of the people talk about us -- the TV. You understand? The magazine, and the student, in
university, in school, but there is no one can change. You know why? Because they don’t want change.
If they want change, they can change… But, what I say, this is not – the problem is not about the
country. Not about the land, the problem about the mind. They can live together.” This is not to say that
Anas is opposed to right of return, but for him, it is not something he spends time thinking about. His
ultimate desire is to see peace, not because one side is Palestinian or Israeli, but because they are people.
The conflict and transnational experience has had a sobering affect. When talking about the peace
process, one can tell it is a point of confusion and frustration at why two groups of people cannot
coexist.
The most significant aspect of Anas’ views on identity was how identity is formed and how he
thought of himself. He does not feel like someone dispossessed. He will not say that anything was taken
from him, and does not want to be viewed that way. Where to most Palestinians, right of return is a point
of national pride for their homeland, refugee status is a weight Anas wishes not to carry. Palestine is the
identity of his parents, but not him. “For me -- for me, I don’t think to go [to] Palestine and live in
Palestine, because Palestine is not my country. I am my country. Jordan is my country, and uh, maybe
Palestine, [is] my grandfather. He is go on. Is die.”34 Jordan is the home that Anas knows. While he has
knowledge about Palestine, his personal experience in the Diaspora has led him to adopt Jordan as his
home. Home is the place of his own memories, not his grandfather’s. He described home in this way,
“The home is the place where you have your remember, and your friends, and your dreams, and your
pain.” In this way, he feels little connection to Palestine.
Politics of Identity
In Anas’ case, one major factor in being able to assimilate into Jordanian society and identity is
that Palestinians have been given full rights and Jordanian citizens, with one exception. Gazan refugees
received by the UNRWA in Jordan from al-naksa in 1967 only have partial rights. Currently, this is the
top issue for UNRWA officials in Jordan and what Mahmoud alluded to when he said he would find his
rights in Gaza, not in Jordan. For Jordan’s Palestinian population, the question becomes: How do people
identify themselves in new host societies? The refugee issue in terms of identity is the tense
undercurrent of Jordanian domestic politics. The aspect of Jordanian citizenship for Palestinians
provides a double-edged sword for the government and the people. On one hand, it avoids the dire
poverty of the Palestinian population as seen in Lebanon’s case, but also creates tension with the native
Jordanians who are reluctant to share power and resources with perceived “outsiders.”
Demographically, Jordan has 1.9 million Palestinian refugees registered with the UNRWA. 35
With a total population currently estimated at 6.5 million, Palestinian-Jordanians make up roughly one-
third of the nation’s residents. Even though the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan was in the early stages of
forming “Jordanian” identity when the Palestinian Diaspora began, the refugee influx was the beginning
of what characterizes so much of the nation’s political tension. Since the first Gulf War in 1991, and
even more so in the past decade, Jordan has become a central safe haven for people fleeing violence and
conflict. The neighborhood of al-Mahata in east Amman is a microcosm of Middle East conflict. In the
small, impoverished enclave along Al-Jaysh road, you can find an Iraqi barber who arrived during the
first Gulf War. There is an apartment building full of families from Kurdistan in northern Iraq who fled
during the most recent US invasion and subsequent occupation. At a local shawarma restaurant, Ahmed,
a Syrian immigrant, can be found working most days. More recently, friends escaping the turmoil of the
34 Anas Matar Albrbrawi (Artist in Talbieh Camp, Al-Jiza, Jordan) interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frakens, and Adam Harpham, July 2010. 35 “Jordan”, accessed August 4, 2012, http://unrwa.org/etemplate.php?id=66.
current Syrian uprising have joined him. It is estimated that close to 500,000 Iraqi refugees who fled
during the US led occupation are currently living in Jordan.36
As with most Arab nations, citizens felt emboldened to express repressed feelings about their
leaders and government. Jordan expert Curtis Ryan weighed in on Jordan’s political developments in the
past year in an article for Foreign Policy magazine in February. “These identity dynamics have been
most clear in the strong nativist trend that has emerged to ‘protect’ Jordan for ‘real Jordanians.’ This has
led to unprecedented levels of criticism of the regime and of the monarchy (including of the king's
Palestinian wife, Queen Rania) for allegedly selling Jordan to a Palestinian economic and now
increasingly governmental elite. Tensions have abounded in the largely East Jordanian southern cities
and towns, and between and among Jordanian tribes.” The Arab uprisings that dismantled regimes like
Gaddafi in Libya, and are transforming civil societies in Tunisia and Egypt, barely registered in Jordan
by comparison. Protests took place in 2011, leading to superficial reforms in election laws, and nothing
of much consequence.37 Any real change in civil society is far off. Living in Jordan the year prior to the
Arab uprisings, and having visited in the Spring of 2012, I can note there was little visible change in
daily life, or observable political talk. Revolution was not the topic of conversation on everyone’s minds
like it had been in Cairo. There it was visible, in the streets. However, “High profile criticism of the
monarchy has emerged from tribal leaders and retired military officers, and the latter have now also
formed their own political party,” writes Ryan, showing that individuals are feeling more confident in
their ability and desire to dissent.38
One group King Abdullah watches closely is the Palestinian population. Two things in the past
several decades have proved decisive points for the direction of identity politics in the kingdom. The
first was Black September, the PLO-Jordan war in 1970; the second was, and is the revived suggestion
by Israel and the West that Jordan serve as an alternative homeland for the Palestinians. After Six-Days
War, the PLO began to see Jordan as a strategic location from which to carry out war on Israel. As
Palestinian militias grew in power, enclaves sprung up in Jordan, challenging King Hussein’s power.
After the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PLFP) hijacked and landed three jetliners in
Zarqa and Azraq, the King declared martial law and deployed the military to expel some 40,000
36 “2012 UNHCR country operations profile-Jordan, http://www.unhcr.org/pages/49e486566.html 37 Larbi Sadiki, “Jordan’s Arab spring: To ‘spring’ or not to ‘spring’”, Al-Jazeera English Online, http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2012/02/2012217141945258425.html. 38 Curtis R Ryan, “Identity and Corruption in Jordanian politics”, Foreign Policy Magazine Online, http://mideast.foreignpolicy.com/posts/2012/02/09/identity_and_corruption_in_jordanian_politics.
Palestinian fighters from the country.39 The violence didn’t end until later in 1971 when the last
Palestinian factions had been suppressed. After the conflict with the PLO, the Jordanian government
established the Department of Palestinian Affairs. Each of the ten refugee camps in Jordan now has a
DPA office. Camps represent the communities where Palestinian nationalism in Jordan is strongest.
During the conflict with the PLO, camps became bases for fighters, and developed into Palestinian
microstates. The DPA provides some minimal government services to camps, but its main purpose is to
function as government eyes and ears in the camp, a watchful presence and reminder of who owns the
country. Arafat and King Hussein made peace later on and most people have put the events of that year
behind them, but the wounds still linger.
Dr. Fatima al-Nammari, an architect and urban planner in Talbieh camp, explains the identity
dynamic between the government and refugees in camps today. “In camps in Jordan it’s different from
camps in Lebanon and the West Bank. When you go to camps in Lebanon, there may be more
expressions of identity, the public art, graffiti, etcetera. Over here, for security reasons, that’s a bit
suppressed.“ The expression of identity through art is one visibly distinct way that camps in Jordan
differ from the West Bank. The narrow streets of camps such as Dheisheh and Jenin are filled with
murals of martyrs, Jerusalem, and symbols of right of return like hanthala. “Because of the tensions that
took place between the government and some Palestinian factions in the 1970’s,” Fatima continues,
“there is this tension about any kind of activism towards public expression of Palestinian identity.”40 As
a result, there is a lack of more extreme displays of identity, but Dr. Nammari explains that it is retained
through culture. “They still identify each other as, ‘that guy is from Beersheba, and that guy is from
Jericho… people still have the keys to their homes… many people still have the dialect.” These different
ways of sharing identity are more prevalent in the camps than amongst the Palestinian community
outside in Jordan. Nammari shares that the people in the camps feel like they are monitored, but her
opinion is that it is not in a negative way and that the government has done positive things for the
camps. “But I also know that if a child writes down something on the wall, he or she will have to answer
to a lot of questions.”
Dr. Abdel Qawas is a first generation Palestinian Jordanian. He recently served four years as an
independent Christian candidate in Jordan’s parliament. As the only member of his family born outside 39 “Jordan and PLO turn page on Black September”, accessed August 4, 2012, http://www.alarabiya.net/articles/2010/09/16/119411.html. 40 Dr. Fatima al-Nammari, (UNRWA Camp Architect, Talbieh Camp, Jordan), interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham, July 25, 2010.
of Jaffa, Dr. Qawas has spent all of his sixty years in Amman. Sitting in his medical practice
overlooking the city’s bustling second circle, he shares insight and opinion on civil society in Jordan.
“We are all Jordanians, we have a national unity between ourselves… now if you are asking about
representation, something completely different, about if there is any discrimination between Jordanians
from Palestinians origin and Jordanians from Jordanian origin.” He continues to explain that the
discrimination is there, but like most aspects of Jordanian autocracy, is subtle. In 2010 the number of
seats in parliament allotted for Christian representatives was 9 out of 120 total. This was the same
number allotted when the total number of seats was 80 in 2003.
“Now there is some discrimination between Jordanians from Palestinian origin and Jordanians
from Jordanian origin. And we are trying to… cancel it from the thinking of the people,” he says,
mentioning when King Abdullah dissolved parliament in 2007 because, according to Qawas, the king
believed it wasn’t representing Jordanian interests. The persistent source of tension is the continued
refugee issue and stagnant nature of the peace process. “If this problem would be solved, I think it would
strengthen the unity of all population within Jordan.” He cites the intelligence service and governor
posts as positions impenetrable by individuals with a Palestinian background. However, he notes that
there are Jordanians of Palestinian origin holding high offices like the chief justice and speaker of the
upper house (senate).
In regards to power struggle if Palestinians remain, the doctor is optimistic. “I don’t think that we
will reach that point in, but all Palestinians in Jordan are still doing a huge battle for their right of return.
So the issue of right of return, in regards of if they are going to implement it or not… but I don’t think
the Jordanian population will go back as it happened in 1970 the so called ‘Black September’.” The
Palestinian liberation movement is largely pacified now, and the elements likely to create a power
struggle, such as the PLO militias are non-existent. Moving back to Palestinian vs. nativist trends today,
he define the current state of civil society from the perspective of the ruling authorities. The wait for
right of return is a factor in political discrimination, “but it’s not the main factor” he claims. “We have to
forget about the origin of each body. That will happen only when we think of a political era and not a
security era. Unfortunately, Jordan is still governed with a security strategy and not a political
strategy.”41
41 Dr. Abdel Qawas, (medical doctor, former member of parliament, Amman, Jordan) interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham, July 16, 2010.
Alternative Homeland and Politics of Aid
As the peace process between Israel and the Palestinians drags on, prospects for a workable two-
state solution become bleaker each year. For Israel, the hope is that Palestinians may settle for the so-
called ‘Jordan option.’ “In 1982, Yitzhak Shamir, wrote that, “reduced to its true proportions, the
problem is clearly not the lack of a homeland for the Palestinian Arabs. That homeland is Trans-Jordan,
or Eastern Palestine .... A second Palestinian state to the west of the River is a prescription for
anarchy.”42 The suggestion of Jordan as an alternative homeland for the Palestinians is nothing more
than a wish. Even so, the possibility of Israel’s occupation and settlement of the West Bank forcing
some version of that option on the Hashemite kingdom in the future is still a national security concern
for King Abdullah. With the issues of right of return and a large Palestinian population in Jordan, the
UNRWA has entered into the difficult realm of politicized aid. Initially the UNRWA was created to take
over relief and aid responsibilities from other organizations with an added purpose of serving an
“economic recovery role” for areas affected by the refugee crisis, explained Richard Cook, Director of
the UNRWA. When the problem remained unresolved into the 1950’s, “it became apparent this was not
going to be a problem that was going to go away quicklyl,” said Cook. “UNRWA’s mandate has
developed over the years, but – by the UN general assembly created UNRWA in 1949, and we were
created to provide relief and works for the refugees, which developed now into a human development
role, providing services and education, relief and social services, microfinance. So it’s been a developing
mandate in many respects.”43
Many international leaders and Mideast experts wonder how long the UNRWA can continue its
mission. People are beginning to ask why the UNRWA still exists, especially in a place like Jordan. In
refugee situations like Lebanon and Gaza, there is an apparent and crucial need for UN services to
Palestinians. Gaza is a humanitarian crisis, and the Palestinians in Lebanon are actively excluded from
society. In recent years, this question has led to annual funding gaps in the UNRWA budget. Every year,
the US steps in to fill the need for funds. During the time of these interviews in 2010, the UNRWA was
facing a $100 million shortfall. Before leaving Jordan, news came that the US government had met the
donations goal. The reason? The existence of the UNRWA is an issue of regional stability. “We are
afraid in the future that maybe the UNRWA will close. But the people here, they are fed up. If the 42 Lamis Andoni, “Jordan is not Palestine”, Al-Jazeera English Online, July 4, 2010, http://www.aljazeera.com/news/2010/07/2010748131864654.html. 43 Richard Cook, (Director of UNRWA), interview by Andrew Cagle and Jeffrey Frankens, February, 25, 2011.
UNRWA [is] finished, what they will do? They will not accept UNRWA to leave them,” explains
Bukhari.44 One can imagine the result of eliminating funding for an organization that provides relief, aid,
and development to millions of Palestinians across the Middle East. From a humanitarian standpoint,
host countries must be willing to fill the void. But because of the large Palestinian population in Jordan,
the UNRWA presence is a tool of political pacification. The Hashemite government is not eager to
welcome a fully integrated Palestinian society in Jordan, and is already under extreme stress from an
overloaded refugee population.
The one lesson Arab monarchs and autocrats are taking from the uprisings of 2011 and 2012 is
that socio-economic inequality is the matchbox of unrest. “I don’t think it’s an option,” says Dr.
Nammari on the subject of defunding the UNRWA. “There is a moral obligation and an ethical
obligation. I don’t think it’s an option for UNRWA to suddenly cease existing.” And how long should
the UNRWA remain? “Until the problem is solved.” When the refugee issue is resolved is what she
refers to as “the one-million dollar question.”45 For critics of the agency however, the UNRWA is a
force implicit in perpetuating the refugee issue. But as Kanaan Jamaal in Ramallah says, it’s
complicated. “Right of return for the Palestinian refugees -- it means that compensation and settle them
where they are in their country, not Palestine… The ordinary people, they won’t accept that… it’s
memories, it’s culture, it’s part of life to keep all these memories.”46
What this translates to is a difficult job for the UNRWA as they reform, transitioning from aid to
development. Navigating the fears of permanent settlement amongst refugees is something Dr. Nammari
came across first hand while working on camp improvement projects in Talbieh and Hussein. The focus
of the project was urban improvement. Camps like Talbieh have received paved roads only in the past
several years. Overcrowding, flooding, and health hazards are issues Ghazi Bukhari listed as prevalent
and in need of solving in all of Jordan’s ten camps. Speaking on the implementation of Talbieh camp’s
improvement project, Nammari says, “It took us a while to establish trust. When we first came into the
camp, the leaders of the families and community leaders were very skeptical. And they thought this
project signifies some international plot against them to resettle them here.” To camp residents, 44 Ghazi Bukhari (UNRWA station chief, Jebel Hussein Camp, Amman, Jordan), interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham, July 1, 2010. 45 Dr. Fatima al-Nammari (UNRWA Camp Architect, Talbieh Camp, Jordan), interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham, July 25, 2010. 46 Kanaan King Al-Jamaal (official in the refugee affairs office of the PLO, Ramallah, Palestinian Territories), interview by Andrew Cagle and Jeffrey Frankens, July 12, 2010.
improving infrastructure was somehow related to right of return. Through community meetings, the
message that the project was about the quality of life in the camp, and not right of return, was accepted.
A statement from one camp resident, who’s fears had been assuaged was, “even if they build a palace
for me here, I will not forget my homeland.” For Palestinians living in places like Talbieh and Jebel
Hussein, the camps are a reminder that Jordan is not home for them. In this way, the camps and to an
extent, the UNRWA itself have become symbols of return for Palestinian refugees in the Diaspora. “The
camps are special because you have a concentration of Palestinians. There are many refugees who do
not live in camps, but then again the camps represent a concentration of refugees.” The result is that the
UNRWA walks a difficult balance between the people it serves and major political actors.
For the UNRWA staff, their work is not political, but is seen as humanitarian. The majority of
staff working for the UNRWA in Jordan are of Palestinian origin. Even if they did not grow up in a
refugee camp themselves, there is a connection and strong sense of service and pride in what they do to
better people’s lives. As funding shrinks, UNRWA officials are aware of the need to fully leave the era
of aid and focus on relief. Reform efforts in the past two decades have pushed the amount of the budget
allocated for things like direct aid to less than 10 percent. Criticism from the international community
asserts that the existence of the UNRWA perpetuates the refugee problem. In truth, the lack of a peace
solution between Israel and Palestine is the culprit. “If they are inside or outside the camp, [people] are
thinking of going back. [They do] not they make themselves in the camp just to say ‘I am refugee.’
People are not thinking like that.”47 The focus of debate on the UNRWA in Jordan should be when the
organization’s development role is complete, and if the refugee camp communities can be absorbed by
the host government’s public services. Already pushed beyond its capacity, the Jordanian government
will be reluctant to provide public goods and services to an additional several hundred thousand poor in
the kingdom.
We asked Richard Cook, then director of the UNRWA, what he does not get to communicate
enough about the agency and the refugee issue. “I hear it often, ‘UNRWA has perpetuated the refugee
problem because of its existence, and it has created an environment of dependency amongst the
refugees.’ Anybody who says that doesn’t know the Palestinians.” Citing his 30 years of experience
working with refugees in the region he continues, “That is not the character of the Palestinians. They
want to succeed. They want their rulers. They’re a resilient people, a courageous people. And they want
47 Ghazi Bukhari (UNRWA station chief, Jebel Hussein Camp, Amman, Jordan), interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham, July 1, 2010.
the best for their children and themselves. So any suggest that there is an artificial dependency there, to
my mind, is wrong.”48 He believes, until the circumstances can change for many Palestinians, their full
potential as a people is still yet to be seen.
Concluding: Family Disconnected and the Pursuit of Home
We are at a youth and social programs center in Dheisheh refugee camp, a large UNRWA camp
in Bethlehem. Manoud, a young, well-spoken teenager talks with us about family and nationalism.
Sitting in a tile-floored room, drapes drawn to keep the unrelenting sun at bay, our conversation aimed
to gain perspective on the aspect of disconnection from the other side of Jordan’s bank. “The hope that
we want is to return,” says Manoud. “To invite all the Palestinians from across the world to come back
here again. Because we are waiting [for] them. Our families, my family – the family that continue my
family, it’s in Jordan.”49 This is the focal point: waiting. Time is the center of our questions about
identity, in how it changes people, and societies. And beyond the how, comes the unending question of
‘when?’ to a myriad of unresolved issues. The question of Palestinian identity is one piece in the current
era of the wider Middle East. Socially and political, the region is undergoing a long process of identity
transformation that is unprecedented in modern history.
In the transnational Palestinian community, thuqafat al-awda (culture of return) will always be
alive. At this juncture, a workable peace plan with some provision for return is the only solution to the
refugee issue. In the realm of politics, there are more questions than answers, but the answer to many
questions of political tension in countries like Lebanon and Jordan is a final solution between Israel and
the Palestinians. Until that time, the simple but encompassing truth from Mahmoud Hadana in Jerash
echoes the thoughts of Palestinians across the world. Of life in Jordan he says it is, “Kwais, bas kul
wahed aish fi molku yathl asan.”50 Good, but it is better for everyone to live in the place that they own.
48 Richard Cook, (Director of UNRWA), interview by Andrew Cagle and Jeffrey Frankens, February, 25, 2011. 49 Manoud (refugee, Dheisheh Camp, Bethlehem, Palestinian Territories), interview by Andrew Cagle and Jeffrey Frankens, July 11, 2010. 50 Mahmoud Hadana, (refugee, Gaza Camp, Jerash, Jordan), interview by Andrew Cagle, Jeffrey Frankens, and Adam Harpham August, 2, 2010.
