Pilot research by Jason R. Forbus
The University of Aberdeen
Palestina I By Bissan Rafe 2008
This pilot research focuses on the lives of Palestinian artists living as refugees in industrialized countries, on how they construct – and defend – their identities, on the role played by the political struggle of their native land on their ideals and personal lives.
The article reports on e-mail interviews with four respondents, whose ages ranged from 20 to 30 years old.
Preliminary pilot data collection
As a writer, I happened to collaborate with visual artist Bissan Rafe Qasrawi on several projects. When asked, she gladly introduced me to fellow Palestinian artists, thus serving as my gatekeeper. Once chosen as a sample, the duty to contact other respondents fell upon her, and this eventually resulted into a “snowball technique” effect. The main weakness of this sampling method is its subjectivity to bias, as it may be argued that all the respondents were chosen within a highly opinionated network. Yet, the strength of the method lies on the networking itself, as it allows us to make estimates about this hardly reachable group.
The research design utilized consisted in e-mail interviews – since the respondents refused to be interviewed via Skype, a voice communication service. The artists were also asked to choose and provide an original piece, be it a poem, a song or a painting, so as to combine the interviews with audio-visual data produced by them. The piece requested had to represent their image of Palestine to its fullest. Now, some of the respondents were born in refugee camps and never even saw Palestine with their own eyes; the research tries to disclosure whether their idea of Palestine is socially situated and if so, the degree of such situatedness.
The purpose of the research was partially revealed to the respondents, as it does not focus solely on the defence of human rights but principally – as mentioned above – on the sense of self of refugees living in industrialized countries. The questions were constructed in such a way as to not approach the main subject of the research directly, but rather to introduce the respondents and the nature of their work first and gradually address the matter with a question which must have seemed irrelevant to them. The rest of the interview, then, functions as leverage.
The choice of a multiple method approach has certainly contributed to fill in some gaps created by the lack of face-to-face encounters, in particular the absence of verbal indicators such as behaviour, feelings, attitudes and opinions. The main purpose of audio-visual data production, then, was to avert this lack of verbal indicators to a certain extent. Facial expressions and tone of voice are obviously fundamental factors in such a heartfelt discourse, yet all the respondents belonged to a certain category of people – artists – who are able to express their inner feelings by “materializing” and transmit them into the visible world. It must be stated that, as works made available to the general public, the production of this data presented no ethical implications while providing a better understanding of this group.
If, on one hand, e-mail interviews fail to represent verbal indicators, on the other they help the interviewees in defining their thoughts in a clearer way. Lack of pressure and awkwardness eventually resulting from a face-to-face encounter are also eliminated.
As mentioned above, being a writer not only provided me with a gatekeeper, but also with the key to “open” the door. Yet, the very key I used to interpret data – my own identity – may prove a partisan perspective highly influential to the conduction of the research.
Analysis and reflection on the data
Palestine is a word often heard in the news, since it has been a hot political issue for more than fifty years. Its people live in far-away lands, often not of their own choice, and while trying to adapt to the new, alien environments they find themselves in, they still manage – in spite of all difficulties – to keep strong connections with relatives and friends who stayed “home”. How does this perpetual attempt affect their lives?
To begin with, this “longing for Palestine” results in a strong sense of belonging, not only cultural but almost intrinsic. This identity is claimed even when the person was not born in Palestine, as this passage demonstrates:
Jason Forbus: Were you born in Palestine?
Bissan Rafe: No, but my father was and so was everyone that came before him.
By affirming that her father, and everyone else who came before him was born in Palestine, Bissan makes a very strong claim of identity. She was not born in Palestine, but her father and ancestors were. It feels as if something has been taken away from her, a line was broken.
In another case, the interviewee was not born in Palestine but moved there as a child. His experience as a youth in Ramallah allowed for an exploration of his memories of the place.
Jason Forbus: If so [if the answer to the previous question was affirmative], what is the most vivid image you have of Palestine?
Abboud Hashem: My strongest memories are from my childhood there, which I’ve mostly spent outside in my neighborhood in Ramallah, which is full of valleys and trees. I also have a lot of high school memories from back then. Not to mention the days of the Second Intifada, which had the strongest impact on my life. A part of my mind is still stuck in those days; it influences a lot of the music I make.
Abboud’s bucolic description of Ramallah is soon replaced by memories of war and suffering. The Second Intifada, after all, had the “strongest impact” on his life. For his own admission, most of the music he makes is still influenced by Palestine’s struggle for freedom.
Those who weren’t born nor ever visited Palestine, instead, may experience a sense of nostalgia:
Jason Forbus: If you have never been to Palestine, what words would you use to describe it?
Dalia Odeh: Palestine is my fantasy. A place so far out of reach, yet so close to my heart.
Filmmaker Dalia Odeh was born in Yemen, and grew up in Ethiopia, Yemen and Jordan, where she currently lives. As a child, she attended an international school in Ethiopia where
… although I wasn’t mistreated by any of the teachers, I was looked down at by some of the students and my sister and I had a really hard time convincing other kids that Palestine exists.
It is evident here that her “landless” status contributed to the defining of her identity. Dalia and her sister could not get away with just being children, they had to convince fellow pupils that their country existed, they belonged somewhere. On the other hand,
… my teenage years were somewhat different. We had moved back to Yemen by then and I attended a local school. I was treated as a hero, just because I’m Palestinian.
Were those years really different? The cultural weight of her Palestinian identity was perhaps even greater in Jordan, where Dalia was treated as a hero just because of her background.
Nonetheless, this identity did not prevent any of the respondents from establishing friendships with non-Palestinians, but apparently led them to be more tolerant and open-minded.
Jason Forbus: Are your closest friends Palestinians?
Bissan Rafe: No, I have one childhood friend who is Palestinian that I did not see since I was 13 years old. So I cannot exactly say she is my closest friend. I would not say I have close friends; I have acquaintances for various social occasions, but to get as close to the term, I find that my friend from Sudan is the closest to me since we share basic understanding and a mutual struggle as being immigrants from a distressed background.
Dalia stresses this point even more,
My background has forced me to be tolerant to different cultures, religions and opinions. Which, I believe is a very important feature in documentary filmmaking.
This statement introduces the next point. In fact, while not relevant to the choice of friendships (in regards to nationality), identity seems to play a much stronger impact on the interviewees’ sensibility for Arts.
The respondents all agreed on the fact that their particular background was fundamental in determining their artistic approaches. Abboud, for instance, affirms:
My background has had much influence on my sensibility for arts. Becoming more interested in our history and culture, led to me becoming more interested in our arts as well, learning a lot about the traditions (from dances to songs) that have been passed down generation to generation. Our history of resistance has also played a great role on Palestinian art, and this is an obvious and direct influence on my music.
The dedication reserved by Abboud to arts revolved around his background, specifically Palestinian culture in the form of dances and songs. The musician had a whole cultural heritage to draw his inspiration from, which highly affected the development of his artistic identity.
But Palestine’s influence on the respondents’ artistic expression does not end here. It is not just a solid foundation stone of their identity as artists, but rather a common thread linking their whole artistic production.
While providing an answer to the question, performing artist and poetess Deema Dabis happened to discuss art in a broader, critical sense. According to Deema, being Palestinian raised in her an awareness, a sense of responsibility that is perhaps uncommon among most artists.
Deema Dabis: For me, my background has made me aware first off of the importance of art and the responsibility of art. There are many artists out there who make art with no purpose. Just to make art. I am not saying that is wrong, people are free to do as they wish and who am I to judge really. And I also think that there is a difference between inspired and channeled art and making art for art’s sake. One is filled with purpose and the other is not. So for me it’s not that all my art has to be about Palestine per se but it must carry with it a piece of the purpose and responsibility I feel to contribute to making the world a better place (for lack of a better way to describe it).
A dispossessed background would then endow the artist with a purpose. Inspired, channeled art carries this purpose to such an extent as that even when an artistic work is not openly dedicated to Palestine, its reference appears to be omnipresent, if veiled.
But how is this constant political involvement felt by the interviewees? When asked if they intended to help the cause of Palestine and if so, whether they felt it as a duty or as a privilege, the respondents provided a quasi-unanimous answer:
Bissan Rafe: It is my duty. I am honoured to help, I have to help and I am expected to help. Even though I work as a painter, I am studying medicine. Whatever field I am in somehow I have to use it to help a cause, and my cause just happened to be my estranged country Palestine.
Abboud Hashem: I feel that it is both a duty and a privilege. Staying silent to the brutal occupation is not an option for me. After witnessing Israeli crimes at first hand I naturally found my role in the struggle – that being through music. And my ability to travel internationally is of course a privilege which must be taken advantage of fully, and that is where the music comes in again, being able to spread the message and culture to audiences worldwide.
Dalia Odeh: Yes, I do. Although it is quite hard to make documentary films about Palestine without being there, I still intend to find ways to do so. I believe that helping the cause, or at least trying to, is every Palestinian’s duty… and if every one of us did their little bit, we’d create an unstoppable wave of resistance.
Deema Dabis: I feel that it is both a responsibility AND a duty to help Palestine in whichever way I can, which for me is definitely better manifest through art yet it is art that I hope to somehow find a way to make a connection/bridge to real social causes that actually do something to make the situation better.
Helping the Palestinian cause, then, is felt as an expected duty, and a badge of honor of a sort. In fact, as it has been said, the respondents felt a strong moral obligation towards their fellow countrymen living in the occupied territories.
Yet, the interviewees seemed aware of the differences distinguishing them from those residing in Palestine, and the feeling of nostalgia affecting their perspective.
Jason Forbus: Do you feel any different from Palestinians living in Ramallah?
Bissan Rafe: Yes, very different, Diaspora Palestinians have a fantasy image of Palestine, a dream like state and a sense of nationality that is divined, but Palestinians living under the occupation face many hardships that they feel pressured and view Palestine differently, they view it in a darker way, more like a prison.
Diaspora Palestinians – who, from now one, I will address as “Al-Shatat”, Arabic word to describe Palestinians living outside historic Palestine – would then represent a different category of Palestinians altogether. But to draw near to a conclusion, where does al-shatat stand, how are their identities formed, and how do they differ from other Palestinians?
A question of apparently minor importance was “hidden” in the interview. The answers provided to this question, together with the ones discussed so far, may help us in shedding light on al-shatat’s identities.
Jason Forbus: Would you say, if asked, that you are “American”, or “German”, (whichever nationality applies)?
Bissan Rafe: I will always say I am a Palestinian, simply because, even if I say I am an American or German, they will not accept me as one, disregarding the fact even if I held a citizenship or if I was simply born there. And most of all I say I am Palestinian because that is who I am, that is who my parents are, and everyone that came before them.
Dalia Odeh: I always say I’m Palestinian, unless I need to fill up official papers where I have to stick with my Jordanian passport.
Abboud Hashem: No. My parents are Palestinian and my grandparents and so on. My identity is deeply rooted in Palestine, and so I just naturally feel like I’m from there.
Deema Dabis: Most definitely not American, although I grew up in the U.S. and am definitely influenced by that and I love many things within American culture, the beautiful things. But I would definitely say that I am from my indigenous culture as that is where I feel most at home, Jordan/Palestine.
Again, the respondents unanimously claimed their Palestinian identity, in spite of the fact that some of them never visited the country (Bissan and Dalia) and were born and lived most, if not their whole lives abroad (Bissan, Abboud, Dalia and Deema).
One last question was fundamental in my understanding of al-shatat identities: the respondents’ relationships with their host-countries.
Jason Forbus: What social problems do you see in the nation you are currently living in?
Abboud Hashem: I feel that this whole talk of “integration” and “tolerance” is taking the wrong direction lately. Right wing parties in Europe which talk of the need to integrate and respect democratic values are at the same time making very racist statements against foreigners and Muslims. This will only distance these minorities, rather than make them want to be part of the society. The media is also not helping at all, usually just reinforcing stereotypes and helping create an illusion of fear of foreigners. Such problems should be taken seriously, because if they continue they could make things a lot worse in the future.
What is it that defines al-shatat artists, then? Is it the fantastical, almost utopian image they have of Palestine? The necessity to claim their identity, and remind the world of their country’s existence? The tangible burden, felt both as a duty and a privilege, to dedicate their work and their lives to the cause of their homeland? Their sensibility towards dispossessed individuals, along with a constant watch against xenophobia?
Analyzing the audio-visual data produced by the respondents may help us in furthering our understanding.
Bissan Rafe: My Painting, Palestina I (see first page), is oil on wood and represents a contour of Palestine’s map masked by the form of a woman. The painting should outline the fundamental theme of my politics, the illusion of the map of Palestine as a dress worn by a woman, each one of its embellishments symbolic to an issue that Palestine faces. The head of the woman is strategically placed near Lake Tiberias, where Israel drained most of its water. The head biting the woman’s shoulder represents a lover (Lebanon), the Gaza Strip is represented by a kiss between the strip and Egypt in a sarcastic display of Betrayal. The rest of the embellishment is mainly self explained, hence the necklaces of children made from the barbed wire worn by the woman, the Mediterranean shores, the infamous wall, etc. Palestina I is very dear to me, being one of my largest work standing at 72 inches high, it marks the start of my most notable serie, Olive Brides.
www.nohra-studio.com
Abboud Hashem: The track I’ve included is called “Zey ma sar mbareh”, meaning “As has happened yesterday”. This track is basically about the difficulties of living in Occupied Palestine, and how there’s been all this talk of “peace” with no action. It’s also about being motivated and speaking out against the oppressors, about contributing to the cause through music.
Video: http://vimeo.com/12511778 Lyrics: http://stormtrap.org/lyrics/zey-ma-sar-mbareh/
Dalia Odeh: The work I wish to share is a short documentary that sheds light on the definition of “Family Honor”, and how this controversial issue affects the lives of people, especially women, within our society. Women have always been victims of “honor”. They are mistreated and abused, especially those living under occupation where they have to face both, the abuse directly imposed from the occupation itself and that resulting from the lack of suitable laws. The presence of the occupation prevents any social growth which leads to a narrow-minded society that considers women to being inferior to men.
You can find my film online, on the link below. It deals with Jordan in particular, but the same, if not worse, applies to women in Palestine.
Video: http://womensvoicesnow.org/watchfilm/is_this_honor
Deema Dabis: The following poem can be summed in one statement I heard a woman from Gaza say after being lectured about not hating Israelis: We don’t hate Israelis, Alice, she says, quietly. What we hate is being bombed, watching our little ones live in fear, burying them, being starved to death, and being driven from our land. We hate this eternal crying out to the world to open its eyes and ears to the truth of what is happening, and being ignored. Israelis, no. If they stopped humiliating and torturing us, if they stopped taking everything we have, including our lives, we would hardly think about them at all. Why would we?
Blog: http://www.alicewalkerblog.com/2009/10/overcoming-speechlessness-poet.html
Conclusion
Born and raised in foreign countries, the respondents use Art not only as a mean to communicate, but also as a standpoint from which they can express a dual and problematic understanding of both their native land and the societies they live in. In fact, their status is cause and effect to the formation of complex identities, in which patriotic feelings are intertwined with universal tolerance, and nostalgia for the “promised land” coexists with a strong criticism.
Al-Shatat artistic production is then placed somewhere in-between, just as the respondents shift from one understanding of themselves to another, as to elude any easy categorization and thus protect their unique identities.
