I have previously written about my father, Abdul-Razeq Farraj, and the use of administrative detention by the Israeli Occupation Forces to arrest hundreds of Palestinians without charge or trial in defiance of international law and human rights conventions. Today, I write this short piece to not only shed light on the continuing use of this “procedure” at a time in which Gaza and its people are facing Israeli killing machines, but also in an attempt to share the arrays of hope and determination I continue to receive from my father and other Palestinian prisoners and their families – A hope and determination perceived as the ultimate enemy by the Israeli settler state as the recent offensive on Gaza, and its intended “goals”, clearly show.
It is painful to think about hope amidst ruins and destruction. But hope seems to have a different meaning in Palestine. It seems to be continuously emerging from ruins, complete destruction and continuous attempts at dehumanization. To be hopeful in Palestine is to firmly hold onto your rights and land, to fight. Hope is an act of resistance that stands defiantly in front of Israeli death machines.
Hope embodied by Palestinians is the Israeli settler state’s fiercest enemy. It juxtaposes the Palestinian peoples’ will to live, their humanity and righteous fight for justice with Israel’s colonial and settler existence, its “above the law” criminal status and lack of humanity.
It is painful to be hopeful: hope will not bring loved ones back. It will not allow us to live stolen memories. It will not perfect childhoods lived under constant fear of air raids and orders of evacuation. It will not heal injuries endured by banned weapons. It will not release prisoners. Hope does, however, allow us to dream, to imagine and to work for a different future: one categorized by true justice and freedom.
The irony of the sense of hope present in Palestine is that its inspired by those who have endured the most. By the targets of the Israeli settler state’s ongoing killing and dehumanizing machines. Hope lies amongst families who lost loved ones, prisoners with multiple life sentences, amongst those with demolished homes and life-long injuries and children with no childhood.
You become a prisoner in the presence of their pure, unaltered hope.
I am a prisoner to my father’s hope. I talk about him here because of his proximity to me with the acknowledgement that his name, above, can be replaced by thousands and thousands of Palestinian women, children and men who continue to inspire hope amidst ruin and destruction.
My father’s administrative detention was “supposed” to end on the 24th of August of this year. Of course, in a case similar to nearly all other administrative detainees, my father’s detention order was renewed for another six months leaving his family in the “common” state of waiting. This detention renewal comes after an epic two-month long hunger strike undertook by my father and other administrative detainees in protest of the use of administrative detention by the Israeli occupation. A protest ignored by the Israeli occupation as it continues to use this illegal procedure, and at an alarmingly higher rate to that before the beginning of the hunger strike.
In an all-similar statement, the Israeli occupation continues my father’s arrest, and that of other administrative detainees, because of what it refers to as “a threat to the regional security.” What the occupation fails to acknowledge in this dehumanizing statement is that the only “threat” posed by these prisoners is the fact their continued arrest exposes Israel’s above the law status and defiance of international law and human rights conventions. The arrest of Palestinian prisoners is a failed attempt to silence an important component of Palestinian society that continues to inspire hope and fight for justice.
Palestinian prisoners are working tirelessly to ensure that Palestinians continue to dream and work for a different future. They are the freest, the most humane and the most hopeful.
In an ever-occurring sign of his resilience, love and humanity my father continues to inspire hope to my family and I through his encouraging words and thoughts that transcend prison walls and borders.
No chains will last.
“In an ever-occurring sign of his resilience, love and humanity my father continues to inspire hope to my family and I through his encouraging words and thoughts that transcend prison walls and borders”
Basil, you, your father and every Palestinian enduring this awful Occupation in all of its’ ugliness inspire hope. Not one Palestinian has been allowed a childhood since the beginning of these many terrible decades. Some are, course better than others, but all have been robbed.
“No chains will last.” No, they will not and they can not. This is a most “righteous fight for justice with Israel’s colonial and settler existence.”
This is an excellent and very moving essay, thank you!
“Resilience, love and humanity” shine out of your father’s face in the accompanying photo. He must be so proud of you, and it a crime (among so many others) that Israel prevented your father from attending your graduation from Earlham College.
And I hope that you will continue to publish articles here, and I hope with all my heart that your father is free soon.
>>hope and determination perceived as the ultimate enemy by the Israeli settler state
>>as the recent offensive on Gaza, and its intended “goals”, clearly show.
Indeed. It’s precisely because the people of Gaza will neither flee nor settle for any of the forms of subordination Israel might offer that it drives the Israelis crazy (or more precisely _crazier_).
This is a very moving statement, Basil AbdulRazeq Farraj – truly an inspiration. More than just about anything I’ve read from or about Palestine, it captures the spirit I encountered on my first trip to Gaza, in 2002, and especially in Nov.-Dec. 2012, right after the eight-day Israeli bombing campaign.
I hope your father will be out of administrative detention soon, and that all of you are able to live lives of real freedom before long. As you say, “No chains will last.”