Born in Jerusalem, Born Palestinian: A Memoir

This review was first published in Middle East Monitor here.

Years prior to Jacob Nammar's birth, Zionist intentions to implement the process of colonization were clearly articulated by Ze'ev Jabotinsky during the First Zionist Conference in Switzerland. Colonisation, according to Jabotinsky, must be 'carried out in defiance of the will of the native population.'

'Born in Jerusalem, Born Palestinian: A Memoir' (Olive Branch Press, 2012) reveals a personal portrait of life under occupation – a forced disintegration of the self, family, community and nation. The inclusivity of Palestine was systematically annihilated as the Zionist occupation effected a macabre transition in the identity of Palestinians. The harmony of three distinct religious communities became a symbol of nostalgia as Palestinians faced brutal oppression characterised by the Nakba of 1948. Nammar's narration of dispossession is firmly entrenched in his country's history, yet a consciousness and identification with other nations' plights is evident through his interpretation of his mother's memory of the Armenian genocide.

It is also through Nammar's recollections of his mother that the individual memory of the Zionist occupation is effectively narrated. The implications of enduring recurring human rights violations is portrayed in the way Tuma, Nammar's mother, struggles against psychological trauma and becomes the bulwark of the family when Nammar's father and eldest brother are detained, tortured and imprisoned. Settlers went on a rampage, forcing Nammar's family to leave the family villa as a precaution which results in dispossession. Soldiers visit the family at night with the intention of raping the eldest sister, Fahima. A show of defiance against such violations led to Shin Bet falsely accusing Fahima of murdering a Jewish soldier. From affluence to dependence upon UNRWA, the book creates a contrast between comfort and deprivation, as violence continues to escalate and values are challenged by practicalities in order to survive.

The 'right to land' is best depicted by the dispossession of the family home. Having been given identity cards by the Israeli government, the family's decision to return home and their subsequent experience highlights the repercussions of Zionist ideology. Finding their home occupied by European Jews, a soldier explains to Nammar's family that the government had bequeathed their home to Jewish settlers and that the expropriation was not illegal. "These people believe that God promised them this land, so they came from Poland to claim it." The 1950 'Property Law' deemed 'land and homes left behind by Palestinians' as of November 29 1947 as 'enemy property', and therefore subject to expropriation.

The right to land gradually manifested itself in the right to live. Nammar and other Palestinians find themselves gradually side-lined by the dominating majority of Jewish settlers. Initial successes in sporting activities enabled Nammar to assimilate into a different way of life and embrace his aspirations. However, he was soon ostracized for being Palestinian; "You do not represent Israel"… "You don't belong in this country", he was told.

Nammar's narrative is a departure from other recollections of Palestine, which embody resistance against the occupation as an integral component of memory. On the contrary, this book seems to be an account of nostalgia for Palestine prior to the occupation. The family is described as peaceful and having no ties to militancy and resistance; this explains the family's emotional ordeal at the detention and torture of Nammar's father and eldest brother. However, the intimate portrait of this personal consequence of the occupation is void of any indignation, or outrage. Nammar acknowledges human rights violations as experienced by his family and close friends, but the occupation is described as phase, rather than a continuous infringement of international law. Despite the illegalities, any possible decisive stance is overshadowed by what Israel had dictated for the Palestinian population.

Racism against Palestinians is countered by the author's assertion that he harbours no animosity towards Jews as a consequence of the fact that most of his Jewish friends were critical of Israeli policies – a reminder of the split between Jews and Zionist settlers, with the latter seeking to legitimise atrocities in the name of a fabricated claim to nationhood.

The narrative is based upon transition, which is not totally regretted. "I was fortunate to have lived and experienced childhood in Palestine, youth in Israel and adulthood in America." Hence Palestinian history in this memoir feels fragmented, or at best, there is a profound nostalgia which overwhelms the ramifications of Israel's illegal occupation. There are various transitions which portray an acquired ease – the adaptation of the name Ya'coub to Ya'cov and Jacob may be viewed as a metaphor of adaptation.

The political allegiances of Israel and the US, mentioned at the end of the book in relation to Nammar's departure from Israel to America, do not elicit any vociferous condemnation. While the author acknowledges US reluctance to challenge Israel's violations, once again there seems to be no anger in recognising that US support for the Israeli government is in turn contributing to the on-going oppression of Palestinians. The author declares outrage in the epilogue, but the memoir is written in an almost detached manner, eliciting ambivalence in the reader. It is, perhaps, the strong element of nostalgia for the memory of Palestine during childhood, which makes this memoir end on an almost utopian vision of Palestine as a land of harmony for Jews, Christians and Muslims – an impossible dream if Israel is not forced to reverse the illegality of the occupation.

Threat: Palestinian Political Prisoners in Israel

This review was first published in Middle East Monitor here.

By amalgamating the Palestinian historic struggle with individual memory, Threat: Palestinian Political Prisoners in Israel (Pluto Press, 2013), portrays the brutality of Israel’s colonial occupation in relation to the mass incarceration of Palestinians. Departing from statistical information and the historical perspective, the book’s initial chapters weave a narrative of ideology, education and resistance within incarceration, creating a contrast between Palestinian tenacity towards achieving self-determination and Israel’s policy of torture and apartheid practices.

Incarceration is so widely practiced and incorporated within Israel’s oppressive regime that it is difficult to encounter a family which has not experienced the system’s ramifications. Mass imprisonment of Palestinians has been a constant feature of the occupation, with the incidence increasing in the post-Oslo period, particularly since the second Intifada when security became an integral component of Israel’s political rhetoric against Palestinian resistance.

The book describes Palestinian struggle in relation to world history and trends, noting how the shift from guerrilla warfare in the 1960s and 1970s gave way to affiliation with political factions such as Fatah, Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine and the Communist Party. Thus, a shift in the characterisation of political prisoners ensued – with the knowledge that the Palestinian struggle against the occupation was entrenched within education and ideology, Israel sought to manipulate the development of the prisoners movement by denying them ‘political prisoner status’ and referring to the resistance as ‘terrorists’ – a preliminary shift which would facilitate the incorporation of torture with impunity for officials indulging in human rights violations.

For the prisoners, education was central to resistance, with debate amongst various factions giving rise to a transformation of consciousness due to a focus upon the process of enlightenment rather than a stereotyped ‘educational attainment’. Prisoners became mobilised against the prison order, developing the unification of the struggle on two grounds while creating an analogy – the struggle against the occupation while incarcerated and the struggle against the occupation in Gaza and the West Bank.

The historic narrative focuses on the Palestinian struggle, escalated by the need for freedom and a national demand for change. Imprisonment is perceived as an entirety – the physical construction of prisons and the geopolitical characteristics of the occupation have stifled freedom and self-determination. The extent of control and exclusion unleashed by Israel has served to transform Palestinian identity from the local to the national. Within ‘the colonial prison’, this transformation can be observed in the impossibility to control and dominate every aspect of the resistance. “In our case of the colonial prison, indomitability stems from the nature of the system of domination itself.” The excesses, resulting in horrendous torture, can be read as a vengeful retaliation against Palestinians who are being castigated for the occupation’s inability to sustain the occupation through other measures. Hence, it is not viable to separate torture practice from the state of Israel – despite Israel’s description of torture as ‘moderate physical pressure’ in order to combat ‘hostile terrorist activity’ which is tantamount to obscene denial; the depicted reality is one where the state and torture are interdependent.

Through the various narratives and academic insights provided in the book, Israel’s prison system is meticulously dissected to reveal systematic physical and psychological abuse. The euphemism of ‘moderate physical pressure’ is described by torture survivors as taking the form of rape, exposure to extreme temperatures, beatings, sexual-psychological torture, shabeh, pain inflicted on sensitive areas of the body, frenzied shaking of the prisoner’s body and placing a foul smelling bag over a prisoner’s head for several hours. Despite a 1999 ruling by the Israeli High Court of Justice declaring a prohibition on ‘brutal or inhuman means in the course of an investigation’, the court also stipulated that interrogators indulging in torture ‘might not be held criminally liable as they may rely on the ‘necessity defence’. Impunity is rampant within the legal framework as Shin Bet is not required to produce any evidence of alleged crimes, although the judge is expected to adhere to the intelligence agency’s version of events. Within the legal framework, torture is therefore intertwined within an imaginary context – the experience of torture is never investigated whilst the practice is dismissed as a detail which plays not part in compromising any resulting confession.

The practice of administrative detention can also be classified as a form of torture. The convenience allows Israel to operate within the boundaries of its own necessities, while violating a detainee’s right to defence. Speculation or alleged conspiracy to commit a crime takes precedence over the facts, and the renewal of detention periods without bringing charges against the detainee has been used as a bargaining tool in Israel’s favour – enticing Palestinians to become collaborators, thus splitting the unity of the resistance through possible betrayal. As long as Israeli discourse remains entrenched within ‘security’, the challenge to administrative detention is slight, with non-violent resistance usually being the preferred method of achieving recognition of human rights violations. It is, however, a fact that torture within the contemporary has been side-lined. An outrage only occurs if there is instant access to imagery – long term torture fails to elicit a response.

The classification of security prisoners is applied broadly and without distinction – the ‘terrorist’ label is unlikely to change unless there is a change in the profiling carried out by Israel. War terminology is essential to justify force against Palestinians as legitimate self-defence, therefore Palestinian political prisoners are also not allowed the ‘prisoner of war status’, despite UN Resolution 3103 (1973) concerning the basic principles of the legal status of combatants struggling against colonial and alien domination and racist regimes. The resolution states that, ‘The struggle of peoples under colonial and alien domination and racist regimes for the implementation of their right to self-determination and independence is legitimate and in full accordance with the principles of international law.’

A notable aspect of this book is the renewed Palestinian resistance in the wake of constant human rights violations committed by Israel. The international community of spectators has not ceased to applaud Israel for its commitment to ‘eliminating security threats’ while intentionally disregarding their obligations under international law. The abuse against Palestinian prisoners is never newsworthy or of ‘concern’ unless it serves the interests of governing bodies in adopting aspects of the narration to suit their vested interests. Within the imposed isolation brought by the occupier’s colonial discourse and the imperial motives of its allies, Palestinian political prisoners have created a unique identity in which liberation is embodied within each individual deprived of personal freedom.

Asociación Ilícita: los archivos secretos de la dictadura

This book review was first published in Chileno here.

Asociación Ilícita: los archivos secretos de la dictadura
Carlos Dorat & Mauricio Weibel
Ceibo Ediciones, 2012

Through now revealed secret government documents, Asociación Ilícita: los archivos secretos de la dictadura details the extent of the far-reaching reign of terror imposed by Augosto Pinochet's dictatorship. Ramona Wadi reviews.


Re-enacting Chile’s dictatorship history is an arduous task, undoubtedly hindered by Augusto Pinochet’s insistence upon oblivion and legally sanctioned by the enacted impunity laws. Seeking to annihilate memory by imposing a reign of persecution, torture, disappearances and exile, the struggle to delegitimize the leftist struggle degenerated into Pinochet’s obsession to legitimise his dictatorship. Evidence compiled by authors Carlos Dorat and Mauricio Weibel reveals a sinister collaboration extending beyond the secret network Dirección de Intelligencia Nacional (DINA) and later Central Nacional de Información (CNI), involving ministries, embassies, diplomats, the FBI, the Vatican and right wing Latin American governments.

Asociación Ilícita: los archivos secretos de la dictadura (Ceibo Ediciones, 2012) examines documents which for some reason, failed to be destroyed by the CNI in 1988 prior to the transition period. The documents, detailing extensive correspondence on behalf of Pinochet, are mainly attributed to Manuel Contreras Sepulveda, Odlainer Mena, Humberto Gordon and Hugo Salas, proving the extent of collaboration between various governmental and international bodies, as well as incursions to divert civilian attempts to shed light upon Chile’s reality. From El Plan Condor to inscribed orders from Pinochet requesting the detention of socialist opponents, terror and diplomatic strategy comprise the analysis of what the authors term ‘a catalogue of horror and intolerance’.

September 11, 1973 unleashed the neoliberal experiment upon Chile, supported by the US which was, in Kissinger’s words, unwilling ‘to stand by and watch a country go communist due to the irresponsibility of its people. The issues are much too important for the Chilean voters to be left to decide from themselves’. Following an initial purging of socialism in Chile, the published documents in this book reveal how political strategy, in collaboration with the Vatican, was aiming to install Pinochet as an icon of freedom and anti-communist struggle. Apart from the well known targeting of Communist Party and Movimiento Izquierda Revolucionario (MIR) militants, the military advocated a complete dismantling of social movements, student organisations and embarked upon restricting the Church’s activities. With regard to the latter, correspondence with the Vatican illustrates the alignment of the church oligarchy with Pinochet’s dictatorship, as opposed to priests working in the country who, contrary to what had occurred in other countries, aligned themselves with the left. While the Vatican urged priests to adhere solely to ceremonial roles, Cardinal Raul Silva Henriquez had abandoned the designated conservative role in favour of exposing dictatorship atrocities through the Vicaria de la Solidaridad. Part of the political strategy against human rights groups was to seek invalidation of exposed atrocities by citing Marxist infiltration.

A brief overview of DINA establishes an ideological framework attributed to Jaime Guzman, who fostered a counterinsurgency programme based upon combating Marxism and seeking the annihilation of social movements from the political scene. As DINA’s power intensified, counterinsurgency became central to the stability of the dictatorship, lending the state a channel through which to intensify diplomatic efforts with other right wing governments and repressive bodies, in order to present a formidable opposition to organisations expressing their outrage at the widespread violence. Documents relating to Operaciones Epsilon reveal that former head of DINA, Manual Contreras, was authorised to give orders to various ministries. An 11 page document relating to the assembly of ‘Comision Interamericana de Derechos Humanos’ sought to ‘neutralise worldwide accusations of human rights violations in Chile’, instead proposing an emphasis of human rights disputes in Vietnam and the Soviet Union, among other countries. The neutralisation of any verbal opposition against the dictatorship was to be met with an open and clandestine psychological campaign, in order to preserve Chile’s ‘image’ from any possible ‘discrediting and spreading of false information’.

The political threat was personified in particular by the clandestine Communist Party and MIR, who waged armed resistance against the dictatorship and suffered great losses due to persecution and disappearances of many militants, including the notorious Operacion Colombo. The book states that, according to research carried out by renowned author Manuel Salazar, Contreras had been compiling information about political leaders of leftist organisations since Salvador Allende’s presidency. Related documents published in this book and stamped as confidential outline the activities of several left wing leaders, including Victor Diaz and Luis Recabarren.

‘The problem of human rights’ constituted a major problem for the dictatorship, as it relentlessly sought to portray any internal or external criticism as tarnishing the image of Chile. Despite the extermination of socialist leaders, subsequent regrouping of MIR, Movimiento de Acción Popular Unitario (MAPU) and other left wing groups gave rise to an initiation of protests against the dictatorship, with people demanding the return of their exiled relatives. Hundreds were massacred by the CNI, as the military was deployed to the streets in an effort to stifle dissent. As the dictatorship faced the most difficult years of its era, Guzman advocated an ideology shifting towards permanent military rule.

The authors describe the oppression as methodical – indeed the documents reveal statistical data of ‘terrorist activity’ and ‘manipulation of conduct’. The constant preoccupation and compilation of data enabled the dictatorship to enact legislation according to the circumstances, in order to ensure a continuation of impunity. A trend of state terrorism is easily gleaned from the documents produced in the book, as well as the analysis provided by the authors. The ‘Caravan of Death’, the ‘Plan Condor’, which was carried out in collaboration with other Latin American countries, ‘Operacion Colombo’ – also known as the Case of the 119, ‘Operacion Epsilon’ and the collaboration with the US regarding ‘the distortion of Chile’s truth in favour of Marxism’ gave rise to the tracking of dissidents' and exiles' activity abroad, in order to prevent the possibility of the formation of a government in exile. Embassies were also authorised to keep copies of any published material relevant to Chile, in particular reports concerning human rights violations. The exercise was described as ‘censorship of negative information’. However, the dictatorship’s targeting of any person suspected of harbouring leftist sentiment, even through association not related to political activity and irrespective of nationality, led to disclosure of torture practices in international media. The case of Sheila Cassidy – a British doctor suspected of having offered medical assistance to Pinochet’s opponents led to international outrage, which in turn the dictatorship tried to stifle by refusing to issue working permits for journalists travelling to Chile in order to report on human rights. State organisations were also forbidden to comment about Chile without prior permission granted through formal official channels. At least 761 journalists were prohibited from reporting about human rights violations in Chile and their details were included in the dictatorship’s archives.

Hostility against the media was enhanced by the fact that culture – an integral part of Allende’s campaign and perhaps synonymous with the nueva canción movement, was not to be stifled. Inti Illimani and Illapu, together with other singers in exile such as Angel Parra, Isabel Parra and Patricio Manns maintained their political stance and disseminated their convictions through music. The literature of Ariel Dorfman and Antonio Skarmeta was banned in Chile, as was the political thought of Eduardo Galeano and Karl Marx.

Perhaps the significance of this book lies in the fact that it is yet another sliver in Chilean memory elucidating the callous ideology behind the committed atrocities. By analysing this archive of documents, Dorat and Weibel have succeeded in reassembling the fragments of the dictatorship, most importantly eliminating the gap between the experienced violations and the dictatorship laws which ravaged the lives of thousands of Chileans.