Ici et ailleurs

Resistance under the jasmine tree

Hazem Almassry — 2025-10-04T07:04:03Z

Le texte qu'on va lire, à la croisée du témoignage, de la poésie et de la réflexion politique, rend hommage à la résistance culturelle palestinienne face à la guerre et à l'exil. Il s'articule autour de la mort du poète Refaat Alareer, figure emblématique de Gaza, tué avec sa famille lors d'un bombardement israélien en décembre 2023. Son poème prémonitoire – “If I had to die / Then you have to survive” – devient un manifeste : même dans la mort, la parole et la poésie doivent survivre pour témoigner.
À travers cette mort symbolique, l'auteur s'interroge sur ce que signifie « résister » quand tout, corps et maison, est détruit. La poésie devient alors une arme spirituelle : survivre, c'est raconter la mémoire des ruines, des matins, du pain, des sourires, et du sang mêlé à la poussière. L'image de l'enfant qui fait voler un cerf-volant – pour communiquer avec son père disparu – incarne la continuité de la vie et de la tendresse au cœur du désastre.
Le récit se déplace ensuite à Taipei, où l'auteur met en scène un acte de solidarité : deux mères, Amel (originaire de Gaza) et Liu Min (Taïwanaise), se rencontrent pour interpréter un poème chorégraphié intitulé “The Children”, dédié aux enfants de Gaza. Leur performance, mêlant danse, peinture et récitation, devient un geste de résistance symbolique. La douleur des mères se mêle à celle des peuples : Liu Min évoque son propre père, soldat taïwanais enrôlé dans l'armée japonaise, soulignant que la guerre abîme toutes les générations, partout.
À travers cette mise en scène, l'auteur tisse un parallèle entre les traumatismes collectifs : Gaza, Taïwan, la Corée (Jeju 4.3), et même le Japon impérial. Tous portent la marque de violences d'État et de guerres coloniales. La psychologue Amel, épouse de l'auteur, Hazem Almassry, explique que le traumatisme palestinien n'est pas individuel mais collectif : un peuple entier vit sous l'oppression, privé du droit à la vie et à la mémoire.
Hazem, exilé en Taïwan, est lui-même l'auteur du manuscrit Under the Jasmine Tree, dans lequel il raconte la destruction de sa maison et la mort de sa mère, écrasée par un mur après un bombardement. Sa voix, entre recherche politique et poésie intime, incarne la dignité de ceux qui continuent à témoigner malgré tout.
Lors d'un forum pour la paix à Taipei, il dialogue avec un militant israélien. Hazem, tout en respectant l'échange, exprime la contradiction fondamentale : comment parler de paix quand une partie a tout – puissance, territoire, soutien international – et que l'autre n'a rien ? Il souligne que la paix ne peut venir sans justice, ni reconnaissance du génocide en cours.
La fin du texte revient à la métaphore du jasmin, symbole de la vie palestinienne écrasée sous les bombes mais toujours odorante, vivante. La question demeure : le printemps reviendra-t-il à Gaza ?
Sous le ciel, des milliers de tombes imaginaires flottent comme des cerfs-volants, chaque nom devenant un vers du grand poème collectif palestinien.
I&A

1.
First of all, I want to start writing with a poem that is unbearable to continue reading but must be read publicly. The lines of the poem are as follows :
If I had to die
Then you have to survive
Survive to tell my story
December 7, 2023 is a memorable day. On this day, the well-known poet, 44-year-old writer and scholar Leifat Reyfat, known as "a piano in Gaza". Refaat Alareer, who died in an Israeli airstrike with his wife and children, not only shocked and angered all Palestinians, but also lamented and lamented by the overseas literary circles.
In a poem he wrote before his death, he seemed to have predicted his own death.

This is how the killing unfolded, how can we say resistance ? The defenseless body is constantly threatened by exterminating weapons ; And right in front of their own doors, the invaders openly exterminated civilians, old and young, women and children, land and homes in the name of sweeping away terrorists.

The poet is dead. However, he left a line of poetry : using very everyday and plain words, he decided that his death was necessary to die, who made him have to die ? Why do you have to die ? Everything was only because he had to be poisoned to death by the invaders in order to defend his home and motherland, and finally the executioner took it seriously, not only coercion, but also buried his wife and children along with the poet in the ruins of the explosion ! He wrote this poem, as if we were witnessing his soul bleeding, and at the same time, the soul also earnestly expressed that the body is dead but the spirit exists, not just survival, which requires someone to continue to write Palestinian poetry, just like the testimony !

So, how to survive, how to continue to live if you die... Having to die also means having to live is extraordinary. Because we must survive and continue to tell the daily memories that Palestine picks up from the ruins and the rubble : the streets, the morning, the bread, the singing and the smiles of the friendly neighbors ! Of course, in the cruel season, blood climbs along the accumulated sand and dust, climbing through the cracks of the bricks, singing the lamentations and elegies of the end times, but there is also the morning light shining into the dark tent, revealing the rebirth of a new day !

Gaza residents who are forced to leave their homes, young and old, women and children, are all at the critical point of the hunger line, and the next step will be towards possible death ; Therefore, death in Gaza must be the beginning of a new life, using one's own skinny chest as a bloody imprint, engraved with words or lines of poetry, as an accusation and testimony buried in the memory of the killing by the displaced !

Therefore, the poem continues :

Please sell my things
Then buy a piece of cloth
and some cord

White cloth made into a long-tailed kite
Somewhere in Gaza, there is a child
will gaze into the sky

She was looking
Father in heaven
Her father died in the fire
It's too late to say goodbye to anyone
It's not even too late
Say goodbye to your own body

When this child sees
The kite you made for me flies in the sky
She would believe that the angel was there
Bring love back to her

Reading the poet's lines, I also responded with a few lines of poetry. I describe so-and-so I record certain lines of poetry like this, transcribed as follows : The servants of Allah walk carefully on the road The ignorant call out to them They turn back and answer :
"Peace (Al-salam)" Quran, Chapter 25, Verse 36 This poem should begin like this :
Because we are all ignorant people
Ignorance looks out through its own eyes
Under the veiled dust
Amid exploding bombs
Among the ruins of broken walls
Within twisted exploitation
In deceptive propaganda
Through manipulations of hegemony
We find ourselves becoming ignorant beings
Al-salam is Peace
Peace is Al-salam Recitation : "If the poet must die You must survive !"
A voice calls : Stop being ignorant
Those who survive, go search for the remains of children's mothers and fathers
Follow the souls of their families
And read aloud with them
The lines of poetry drifting under Gaza's sky
At this moment, the cat joins in the recitation
As if seeing the kite left by the poet Hovering over the eaves of every home Al-salam Al-salam
The voice never ceases
Commemorating the poet, looking at the sky
The sky of Palestine
The poet's figure flies like a kite
2. At Huashan [Arch Hall], four concrete pillars seem to convey the sounds of people in the changing seasons ; yet, this space imagination, belonging to Taiwan's folk drum formations, seems to have already lost all traces of life amid the distant ruins ! On this day, I arranged for two mothers to rehearse a poem I wrote : "The Children." This poem is dedicated to the children of Gaza, who continuously lose survival and hope during bombings ; naturally, when writing about children, one must also write about mothers. In the poem, three lines read : Yet the child's biological mother Is buried beneath the rubble In the instant explosion of an incendiary bomb Here, the mother may be a woman kidnapped by Hamas, or a child in the tunnels discovering this mother, feeding the starving woman the only remaining sip of goat's milk, because the child recalls their own biological mother, whose country, the mother who was kidnapped, gathered destructive weapons, exploded pulverizing all without a trace ! The child does not understand hatred, nor is conquered by it ; they simply feel that the mother is the voice of all things, so they prevent the enemy mother from suffering hunger and despair ! The poem is written this way ; when poetry is so graphic, Gaza has once again become a graveyard that once held beautiful memories ! At noon, Amel—the mother from Gaza—came to rehearse under the four pillars of the "Arch Hall," while the Taiwanese mother—Liu Min—arrived earlier to prepare, changing into convenient dance clothes. The meeting of these two mothers unveiled the act of reciting poetry as a cultural action, showing deep concern for Gaza from a Taiwanese theater and poet. They shared the checked scarves draped over their shoulders ! I recall, a few days before the recitation, I contacted these two foreign mothers : "Come dance for the children suffering in Gaza !" In the message, I wrote to the Taiwanese mother, Liu Min. She quickly replied : "We need to meet and discuss this thoroughly. "How do we start ? she asked. I said : The mother from Gaza – How do we get started ? She asked. I said : Amel, a mother from Gaza – I have taken drama lessons with her daughter several times this spring. I asked her to translate a poem I wrote : [Child] into Arabic, and her rhythmic reading voice was full of ups and downs, beautiful and moving !
I said to Liu Min : It will be danced by a dancer's mother ; Another mother read the hymn aloud ! We can also add simple ritualistic bodies ! She asked : Is this a show ? I said, let's use poetry and dance to launch a cultural action for the displaced Gaza !
After discussion, rehearsal, and washing with tears ; In addition to dancing, Liu Min also created a mural : "Mother and Child", a ritual of blessing and silent resistance !
Originally, when we met at a café ! She took out another painting. A Japanese soldier with a bandage on his leg bone stood in a space of unknown time. She said : "I painted my imaginary father who was injured in battle in the jungle.
Her father was a Taiwanese Japanese soldier ; Identity has always been sensitive. who are victims of conscription and mobilization ; Or on the battlefield, the perpetrators who serve the military ? She didn't tell me, I'm afraid she has been greatly shocked and shocked as a father for a long time !
I just say : This is the tragedy that war has brought to the world. So, what kind of collective trauma is this for the civilians in Gaza who have been bombed, killed, expelled, discriminated against, starved and humiliated for a long time ? She happened right in front of the eyes of the world...
Writing like this now, I feel so powerless. What we see in the video is a 16-story building, which collapsed in an instant, is a residential building in Gaza, with a hospital, temporary school classrooms, and emergency evacuation facilities ; They say they want to destroy masked terrorists – called Hamas, and they are terrorists in military uniforms – called Israeli soldiers ; However, they do not admit their crimes because they are supported by international democratic hegemons. They claim to launch an offensive against Gaza, but in fact they are committing genocide, not war.

3.
That meeting took place at a small café behind the historical section of Treasure Hill. The tiny space was quiet on a Sunday with no one else around. I had a warm and thoughtful conversation with the mother and daughter in front of me, who had once lived through the daily bombings in Gaza.

After returning, I wrote in my notebook : That year, in bombed Gaza, a mother held her daughter, who had just turned one, never letting go…。 The mother reminisced, deeply furrowing her brow. When she looked up, I continued listening to how she recounted their life-and-death experiences in Gaza to me, in front of her daughter. She said that, for Gazans, death is something they must face every day.

"No matter what, I only want to share life and death with my child," she said resolutely. I kept in mind the words : 'No way to retreat.' Yet, when I looked at her, I could read her unwavering determination in every moment of silence. This reminded me of the Korean writer Han Kang, who, in "Never Let Me Go," wrote lines reflecting on the Jeju 4.3 massacre :

In fact, death saved those who were alive.

At the same time, in my mind flashed the last few lines from the poem "Child" :

Will the world start again ?
When will the world start again ?
Has the world reached its end ?

What about the stone in my hand ? the child asks.

I have always thought Han Kang's words carry deep meaning. My lines perhaps question Han Kang's confrontation with death. Because death often accompanies despair, and despair prompts reflection on rebirth. Summoning courage, I asked Amel : In Gaza, has death saved the living ? Her answer was both warm and sharp. She said : Believing this is precious, of course, but in my husband's hometown – Gaza – the number of people who died of hunger far exceeds those who perished from bombings, suffering more torment. Can the gradual suffering of their deaths awaken the living to reconsider this cruel world dictated by political dominance, leaving behind bloody crimes ?

"How can one see the light through darkness ?" I asked.

Amel, as a mother, said : That year, in the bombings of Gaza, she held little Malak's hand day and night, during both waking and sleeping moments, because the only involuntary decision was to face life and death together. I also learned that Malak's father, Hazem, lost his house in Gaza last year during a missile attack, reduced to ruins. Even worse, Hazem's mother had already died in a bombing...

That was the first day of the drama workshop ; but we did not do any drama exercises. We delved into many discussions. Malak, the daughter at the café table, at eleven, already had the intelligence and maturity of an eighteen-year-old, which I think is closely related to her need to find the truth of survival amid uprooted life. We had last met at the Ximen MRT Station in support of Palestine, where she gave a fluent, moving, and sharp speech in Chinese. After stepping down, we met again. She said drama had been her favorite since childhood, so she turned to pencil drawings depicting her passion for drama. Together with her mother, I planned her drama courses.

Malak's mother, Amel, married Hazem, a scholar from Gaza living in Taiwan. She herself is a psychologist, and in Algeria…Malak's mother, Amel, married Hazem, a scholar from Gaza who came to Taiwan. She herself is a psychologist and earned her PhD in psychology in Algeria. Her hometown is in North Africa. She said : generally, ordinary people acknowledge that Gaza is an independent and autonomous country and they do not reject Palestinians in the least ; however, as for the authorities, under the push of international powers, it is difficult to act independently... Amel speaks with confidence, naturally full of the delicacy of a woman and a mother. In my conversations with her, I occasionally think of Franz Fanon, the Third World resistance psychologist, who may have profoundly influenced her. Because even when talking about child-rearing experiences, she often approaches the issue from the perspective of social oppression or immigration, leading into issues of collective trauma.
She said : she strongly identifies with Augusto Boal's "Theatre of the Oppressed" ! I think that must be so ! I look forward to seeing the mother-daughter Gaza chronicle written down and incorporated into the rehearsal schedule of Malak's theater workshops. I always think : Malak can use her body to tell the story of her childhood in Gaza ; allowing more people to feel how her growth transformed disasters into moving cultural actions. This will be an unforgettable memory for Malak in her youth : although there is still some distance before she can perform on stage, the theater has always been a process of opening her body to the world ! The world now is spring, yet an incredibly cruel spring ! Because Malak can never return to her hometown Gaza again ! Once, during a conversation, I inadvertently brought up this sensitive topic ! She, with her precocious youth, replied in standard spoken Chinese : "From the moment I was born, this was destined ! We are just like this, moving from here to there, without a fixed life ! "Spring ? What about the spring in Palestine ? I asked. At this moment, her father Hazem also entered the circle of people we both knew !
This sadness revolved around a Gaza family living in Taiwan, and I began to communicate with the family's father, Hazem ; Because, during a rehearsal, Amel told me that her husband had a book about his hometown of Gaza and wanted to publish it in Taiwan. In this way, I received the manuscript of "Under the Jasmine Tree" from him one after another, writing about his sadness as an international political scientist in Taiwan, and now he is exiled overseas and can no longer return to his hometown ! Hazem and his family are a family of five I have ever seen with the courage of displaced people, delicately treating love and hate in this world, and never retreating or compromising ! Their unquenchable love for the world makes me proud to know their family and proud of their existence !

Hazem, Chinese pen name An Haizheng. I hope he will write an article tracing how his home was reduced to pieces under artillery fire, as a testimony before the manuscript was published ; He sent several photos with heartbreaking scenes, especially when he talked about his mother, in which he wrote :

December 5, 2023. That day, the wall fell on her. The Israelis bombed a mosque near our home, and the shockwave knocked down part of our garden wall. My mother was outside, checking her plants like every morning. The concrete crushed her ribs and pierced her lungs. She didn't scream—my brothers later told me that, and their voices were broken as they came through the choppy phone connection. Even though blood filled her chest, she tried to comfort them instead.

When their hometown is in ruins under artillery fire, their beautiful family turns the experience of their distant homeland into a life-and-death struggle into an action of cultural resistance... Whether it is writing, theater or poetry recitation, every moment is fleeting and distant... I thought so.

Hazem participated in the "Taipei International Peace Forum" hosted by the "Long Yingtai Foundation". For him, this is another day to launch a protest discourse on the recent full-scale invasion of Israel. His conversation partner was Roi, director of the Israeli Peace School ; On this day, I went to listen in particular.
Before the forum started, Hazem came to greet me ; I talked to him about his new book, "Under the Jasmine Tree", which needs to be reintegrated with some Chinese translations. He said thank me for my concern, but his eyebrows revealed a little anxiety. He said : "When today's conversation is over, I can safely treat the publication of books." He said that he didn't sleep well last night because he got up to revise the speech of this peace dialogue, changing the original story of his mother and family who lost their lives and displaced in the bombing to the issue of how Gaza as an invader, how to face peace initiatives.
During the conversation, his cheeks, which were originally smiling, became furrowed... Thus, a peace forum unfolded in a diverse or pluralistic manner, and finally it was the turn of the finale chapter, a dialogue between Roi, an Israeli peace worker, and Hazem, a Gaza scholar, writer and activist.
This conversation unfolded in a state of mutual respect and trust, yet charged with a sense of urgency ; this description is by no means an exaggeration. Roi, whether out of habit or deliberately relaxing, would either cross his legs or stretch his legs widely ; beside him, Hazem appeared more careful and contemplative in his posture. One could sense a subtle mutual consideration in their interaction. The first moment of tension in the conversation arose when Roi, speaking as an Israeli peace worker, mentioned that 'peace dialogue' is a process in which both sides continually participate ; Hazem's expression did not naturally convey agreement with this statement. He earnestly said : 'It's not that I want to block the possibility of dialogue, but what I want to say is that our situation is extremely difficult and complex. One side has everything, and the other has nothing—what kind of dialogue can we even have ?'

As a Palestinian ; as someone displaced and oppressed, losing his life and homeland beyond measure in Gaza ; Hazem's words were heartfelt and gut-wrenching ! They led him to express a crucial stance regarding whether the two could collaborate for peace. Hazem resolutely stated : 'I cannot, because this matter can only take place in Israel. Being from Gaza, I must face more immediate problems. How can you talk about peace to people in Gaza who are in the midst of war ?'

After the meeting, I attended the host's dinner with Hazem's family. We sat around a table. His wife, Amel, in a gentle tone, asked Hazem why he expressed that he could not collaborate with Roi in peace initiatives. Hazem told me : on a personal level, he is always willing to cooperate ; but in a public forum, Palestine is a country invaded by Israel, and in reality, meaningful cooperation in their peace mission is very difficult to achieve !

I recalled a passage from his own writings :
'This biased framework strips Gazans of their humanity, reducing them to statistics or threats, rather than people with families, dreams, and the same basic desire for safety that motivates everyone. Such reporting distorts the realities of occupation, shaping public opinion in ways that hinder meaningful advocacy for justice and allow governments to more easily ignore their responsibilities.'

This made me more deeply understand what it means to have no way out in displacement… I thought about getting to know Hazem, because I had the opportunity to spend some days with him, his wife Amel, and daughter Malak, during theater rehearsals and performances. In the preface to his soon-to-be-published book, 'Under the Jasmine Tree : Gaza Memoirs,' he thoughtfully wrote :

'Before the massacre shattered all our notions of a normal life, Gaza had an almost sacred rhythm. Daily life carried a quiet harmony constructed by traditions, community, and the subtle beauty only someone who had lived in one place for several generations could create.

Every morning began the same way. The aroma of freshly baked bread would blend with the salty Mediterranean sea breeze, and the scent alone could awaken half the neighborhood. Our mothers and grandmothers would rise before dawn to knead dough and tend the ovens, establishing the foundation for each day before most of us even opened our eyes.'
This sentence is breathtaking to read, because it was before "before the Holocaust was crushed..." ; So how can the world imagine : since this week, a large number of Israeli tanks have driven into Gaza and launched a ruthless sweep, leaving behind the scene of home destruction and ruined destruction ? For some reason, a strong image flashed through my mind at this moment :
A truck full of pans and worn-out household items, as well as children and ragged men and women in distress, got stuck on a ramp that had sunken after a shell exploded, seemingly immobilizing the horsepower... A bearded man who covered his forehead with the lid of the pot suddenly burst into the camera. He opened his voice excitedly and sobbed : 25 of my family members have died in the bombing, and last night my wife and three-year-old child died in my arms, with steel spikes and embers from shells ; Why didn't I die ? Why ? Why didn't I die ? He asked several times. Then, I cried : It's not like I'm alive, it's better for a bomb to fly into my body, leaving me to be shattered and unable to see the corpse...
I couldn't bear to think about it anymore and turned off the video in my head. Returning my gaze to the forum pulpit, I thought : When opposing military action that involves Taiwan in brutal extermination, coming out to call for peace has become a risk ; This is really a great irony, the reason is nothing more than the stubbornness of those who support power, and they refuse to talk about anything that I confront and refuse ! The problem is : the earth revolves, just like objective reality, and does not revolve only around itself. The sad thing is that the appeal for peace is simple, but the power is always revolving around the hostile consciousness.
Peace certainly comes from appeals ; In addition to appealing, how can peace come ? Specific plans are needed to allow peace to defend the right to civilian life in the face of war crises ! Hazem (Ahn Hae-jeong) has a thought-provoking saying :
Taking Ukraine as an example, it reminds Taiwan that its military strength is limited, and the destruction brought about by war is far greater than the significance of victory. He called on Taiwan to expand channels for dialogue and peace, avoid war, and protect the safety and livelihood of its people. An Haizheng emphasized that the primary goal of applying international experience to Taiwan is to maintain peace, not to imitate other countries' military models.
Continue, walk on the road. Chasing the jasmine tree that may have been lost in the artillery fire... Hazem's wife Amel explores the collective trauma of Gaza in the video, which is the problem of genocide formed by long-term eviction, occupation and coercion, not a day's cold ; She, her husband, and her children's family bravely joined the fight to protect the Palestinian homeland. "What Palestinians suffer is a collective trauma, which is very different from the individual trauma commonly referred to in the West, mainly because it is not individual depression, but the trauma of living under an oppressive system... The mainstream media has long even dehumanized Palestinians..." This is her insight. Exterminating killings and individual retaliation, while mankind calls for the protection of human rights and freedom, how can it not only start from the individualistic concerns of Western human rights, but also under the premise of producing anti-colonialism and anti-hegemony, from the perspective of the third world, returning to the Gaza civilians who were deprived of the right to live by the war under the meaning of collective suffering, and find the resistance and co-creation of her/their homeland and country
Amel and I said : Since the beginning of this year, Busan theater workers and I have also opened the field in the memory of island-to-island killing against the violence of East Asian countries under the premise of theater creation. This experience made me rethink how to learn the difference between collective trauma and individual trauma she mentioned from visiting the White Terror disaster site or reading oral history experiences since the 1990s.

We once again interviewed the personal experiences of the political suffering of the White Terror at Liuzhangli Cemetery and Green Island Prison, mainly comparing such scenes with the experience of the suffering on Jeju Island with the physical performance of the theater. In 1993, the excavation of 201 graves on the Six Plow Burial Hill coincided with the reappearance of the bones in the cave on Jeju Island after more than 40 years of burial, which had the same structural connotation of the collective violence of the state caused by the anti-communist suppression of the Cold War.

In 2018, South Korean President Moon Jae-in said at the memorial ceremony for the 70th anniversary of the 4.3 Incident, which was thought-provoking ; Like the other side of time, the alarm bells thrown from every corner of Jeju's suffering echoed :

Even a stone wall and a withered camellia know about the painful years in Jeju, and people have continued to search and ask in the past 70 years : Is there still spring in this land ? Is the spring in Jeju Island still in my memory ? What about the wild lilies in early spring and April in Green Island ?

Yes. Far from their hometown in the holy land of Gaza, Amel, Malak and Hazem, as well as more Palestinians we know or don't know, may be asking right now :

What about spring ? Will spring in Gaza come again at this time next year ? In spring, what about the jasmine trees that have been smashed by artillery fire in their homes ?

I am reminded of Hazem's words : How do I talk about peace with the people of my Gaza hometown who are dying from killing and expelling ? Peace, to question Israel's genocidal shells, tanks and bullets...

I raised my head and seemed to see 65,174 tombstones engraved in Arabic floating under the clear sky in the distance, which were tombstones in the sky, commemorating the 65,194 suffering bodies and souls who lost their lives in Gaza ; Each one sings the ups and downs of Palestinian poetry. In time and space, it seems that there is also a Lefat. The last few lines of Refaat Alareer's poem :

If I had to die
Then let it be
Bring hope, let it
Become a legend

Hazem Almassry

Vivre derrière le mur : Naviguer dans la vie dans la bande de Gaza / Living behind the Wall : Navigating Life in the Gaza Strip

Hazem Almassry — 2024-01-26T09:00:00Z

Texte présenté lors du colloque “Perspectives on Palestine : Dialogues on History, Humanity, and Hope” à l'Institute for Social Research and Cultural Studies (Chiao Tung University, Taïwan) le 15.01.2024.

Le projet sioniste, débuté il y a 120 ans en Palestine avec le soutien de l'Occident, a conduit à l'occupation de 78 % du territoire palestinien dès 1948. Ce qui a entraîné le déplacement de 750 000 Palestiniens, dont 200 000 se sont installés dans la bande de Gaza. Aujourd'hui, la population de Gaza, principalement composée de réfugiés ou de leurs descendants, remonte à ce déplacement. Après la guerre de 1948, le mouvement national palestinien a émergé, résistant à l'occupation israélienne. En 1967, Israël a étendu son occupation, incitant des mouvements palestiniens en Jordanie, au Liban et dans d'autres pays. Les années 1980 ont vu un changement, alors que les Palestiniens ont initié l'Intifada en 1987, une révolte contre l'occupation israélienne qui a débuté dans le nord de la bande de Gaza et s'est étendue à travers les territoires palestiniens.

Ma famille et moi sommes originaires de la ville de Khan Younès, dans la partie méridionale de la bande de Gaza, mais je suis né dans un hôpital chrétien affilié à l'Église baptiste à Gaza City. L'Intifada a commencé quand j'avais seulement deux ans, façonnant ma conscience pendant cette période de bouleversements.

L'Intifada a pris différentes formes, marquée initialement par la désobéissance civile et des confrontations limitées avec l'armée israélienne bien équipée, considérée comme l'une des forces militaires les plus avancées au monde. Dans certaines zones, les Palestiniens refusaient de payer des impôts aux autorités israéliennes pour protester contre la construction de colonies juives en Cisjordanie et dans la bande de Gaza. Ainsi, le soulèvement s'est manifesté comme une expression multiforme de la résistance contre l'occupation israélienne.

En réponse à la désobéissance civile pendant l'Intifada, l'armée israélienne a adopté des mesures sévères, y compris la confiscation de biens palestiniens pour contraindre au paiement des impôts. La fermeture de magasins a également été utilisée comme tactique pour pousser les Palestiniens à s'acquitter de leurs obligations fiscales. Personnellement, j'ai été témoin des forces israéliennes confisquant des meubles dans des maisons palestiniennes et fermant des commerces. Initialement, je ne comprenais pas les raisons derrière ces actions. Il est devenu évident plus tard que ces mesures étaient mises en œuvre pour contraindre les Palestiniens à payer des impôts.

Face à ces défis, les Palestiniens ont eu recours à des pierres et à des armes primitives pour affronter l'armée israélienne. En retour, l'armée israélienne a utilisé diverses mesures de répression, notamment les tirs à balles réelles, le recours au gaz lacrymogène et la réalisation de perquisitions domiciliaires. Je me souviens de nombreuses occasions où l'armée israélienne a pénétré dans notre maison à la recherche de lanceurs de pierres. L'utilisation de balles réelles a entraîné des victimes parmi les Palestiniens, et la première personne que j'ai connue tuée par l'armée israélienne était un balayeur de rues de notre quartier. Il était notre voisin et avait des problèmes de santé mentale. Sa mort tragique, causée par l'armée israélienne, a laissé une empreinte durable dans mes souvenirs d'enfance, car j'avais environ 6 ans à l'époque.

Dans le cadre de leurs efforts pour réprimer l'Intifada palestinienne, les autorités israéliennes ont mis en place des fermetures de routes. Je me souviens distinctement d'un jour où mes frères et moi nous nous rendions à l'école, pour découvrir que la principale porte de notre quartier était bloquée par des barrières en béton de l'armée israélienne. Cela nous a contraints à emprunter des chemins alternatifs et plus étroits pour atteindre l'école. En réaction à de telles restrictions, les communautés se rassemblaient dans chaque quartier, établissant des marchés improvisés pour acheter des articles essentiels, car l'accès au marché central devenait difficile.

Israël a également eu recours à la coupure des services essentiels comme moyen de réprimer l'Intifada palestinienne. Je me souviens vivement d'une période où l'armée israélienne a coupé l'électricité pendant plus de 40 jours et perturbé l'approvisionnement en eau pendant plusieurs jours, obligeant les Palestiniens à se rendre dans des endroits éloignés pour chercher de l'eau. Mes frères et moi utilisions un chariot pour transporter de l'eau pendant ces périodes.

De plus, Israël a imposé des couvre-feux comme stratégie pour restreindre sévèrement les déplacements des Palestiniens pendant des périodes prolongées, ajoutant une autre couche aux défis auxquels la communauté était confrontée.
Ma mère attendait mon petit frère lorsque l'armée israélienne a imposé un couvre-feu qui coïncidait avec le jour de son accouchement. Elle a partagé son expérience éprouvante d'être enceinte et d'accoucher pendant cette période. Initialement, mes parents utilisaient une voiture à l'intérieur de notre quartier, où la présence de l'armée israélienne était minimale. Cependant, ils ont dû se résoudre à marcher le long de chemins étroits et méconnus pour atteindre l'hôpital. J'essaie d'imaginer une femme enceinte ressentant des douleurs de travail devant parcourir une distance considérable à pied pour atteindre l'hôpital, dans des conditions extrêmement risquées.

Tout au long de l'Intifada, l'armée israélienne a activement pris pour cible des symboles palestiniens, y compris des drapeaux et même des cassettes audio contenant des chansons patriotiques. Posséder de tels objets représentait un risque, car les individus surpris avec des cassettes de chansons patriotiques palestiniennes ou des drapeaux pouvaient être poursuivis devant les tribunaux israéliens. Je me souviens d'un cas particulier où mon frère a dû se débarrasser d'une cassette contenant des chansons patriotiques palestiniennes de peur d'être arrêté et emprisonné par les autorités israéliennes.

La première Intifada palestinienne s'est conclue avec la signature des accords d'Oslo en 1993, conduisant à la création de l'Autorité palestinienne. En 1994, l'Organisation de Libération de la Palestine (OLP) et son président, Yasser Arafat, sont entrés dans la bande de Gaza. Je me souviens vivement de l'excitation collective alors que des personnes de tous âges les accueillaient, comme anticipant la création de l'Autorité palestinienne et l'espoir d'un État souverain et d'une coexistence pacifique. Bien que la situation ait connu une amélioration par rapport à l'époque pré-Oslo, avec moins de soldats israéliens et de véhicules militaires dans nos rues, cela n'était pas sans ses défis.

Selon les accords d'Oslo, l'Autorité israélienne était tenue d'accorder aux Palestiniens l'autorisation de voyager entre la bande de Gaza et la Cisjordanie. Cependant, l'obtention de cette autorisation n'était pas universelle ; certains Palestiniens l'obtenaient, tandis que d'autres se voyaient refuser ce droit. Par exemple, mon frère a demandé l'autorisation de fréquenter une université en Cisjordanie après avoir terminé le lycée, mais sa demande a été rejetée en raison de son association avec des individus impliqués dans des mouvements de résistance.

Pendant cette période, les Palestiniens ont réussi à établir un aéroport dans la bande de Gaza, symbolisant un certain degré de souveraineté, bien que sous un contrôle israélien partiel. Cependant, le processus de paix s'est effondré en 2000, déclenché par la création de colonies israéliennes en Cisjordanie et dans la bande de Gaza, avec l'intention de les annexer, compliquant les négociations sur les frontières finales avec les Palestiniens.

Suite à l'effondrement du processus de paix en 2000, les Palestiniens ont initié leur deuxième Intifada, recourant à des méthodes de résistance familières telles que le jet de pierres sur l'armée israélienne et l'utilisation d'armes légères. En réponse, Israël a intensifié sa violence contre les Palestiniens, introduisant de nouveaux véhicules militaires tels que des avions de guerre et des chars pour réprimer le soulèvement.

Notamment, l'aéroport palestinien est devenu une cible précoce, finalement détruit quelques semaines après le début de l'Intifada. Israël a élaboré des tactiques militaires, notamment la stratégie du « Rasage », considérant les territoires palestiniens comme une tête à raser, signifiant la destruction de tout sur cette « tête » – bâtiments, fermes, arbres, maisons. Cette stratégie visait à démanteler la communauté palestinienne en anéantissant les foyers et l'économie.

Au sein de notre propre famille, nous avons ressenti l'impact profond de cette stratégie. Nous étions auparavant dans une bonne situation économique grâce à notre ferme, mais, un jour, mon père a reçu un appel inoubliable l'informant que l'armée israélienne était en train de détruire au bulldozer notre ferme. Cette nouvelle s'est avérée catastrophique pour nous, entraînant une détérioration grave de notre situation économique.

En 2005, le gouvernement israélien a annoncé un plan de désengagement de la bande de Gaza, mais il s'agissait en réalité d'un retrait partiel des villes tout en maintenant un contrôle total sur la bande de Gaza en ce qui concerne les frontières, l'air et la mer. Cela limitait la capacité des Palestiniens à construire des infrastructures telles qu'un aéroport et un port, restreignait leur liberté de mouvement et l'importation de biens.

Avec le contrôle du Hamas sur la bande de Gaza, le gouvernement israélien a déclaré la bande de Gaza comme une entité hostile, imposant officiellement un blocus. Cependant, personnellement, je considère que le blocus sur la bande de Gaza avait commencé plus tôt, au moins en 2001. La situation a atteint son paroxysme en 2007 lorsque le gouvernement israélien a resserré le siège, n'autorisant que 18 articles et produits à entrer dans la bande de Gaza tout en interdisant d'autres marchandises.

Lorsque le Hamas a pris le contrôle de la bande de Gaza, Israël visait à les laisser gouverner mais à ne pas devenir une force puissante. Dans le cadre de leur stratégie, Israël utilisait régulièrement l'approche du « fauchage de l'herbe » pour diminuer les capacités et la menace du Hamas. Cette stratégie impliquait le lancement de nombreuses attaques sur la bande de Gaza en 2008-2009, 2012, 2014, 2018 et 2021 pour cibler les capacités militaires du Hamas. Par coïncidence, mon père est décédé lors d'une de ces attaques israéliennes en 2009. Les difficultés se sont même étendues à son enterrement, car nous ne pouvions pas trouver de ciment pour construire sa tombe. Heureusement, l'un de nos voisins avait du ciment et nous l'a donné car cela ne figurait pas parmi les biens autorisés à entrer dans la bande de Gaza.

Les attaques de l'armée israélienne sur la bande de Gaza sous le siège ont été décrites comme une très grande échelle de violence par rapport aux incidents précédents. Malgré cela, les Palestiniens ont réussi à faire entrer des marchandises depuis l'Égypte à travers des tunnels le long de la frontière, améliorant ainsi leurs conditions de vie sans dépendre uniquement des points de passage contrôlés par Israël. Cependant, après le coup d'État en Égypte en 2013, le nouveau gouvernement égyptien a détruit tous les tunnels le long des frontières avec la bande de Gaza. En 2014, juste avant l'une des attaques massives régulières d'Israël, j'ai demandé un visa pour l'Australie après avoir obtenu une bourse de doctorat d'une université australienne. Malheureusement, ma demande a été rejetée, avec la justification indiquant que la situation économique et politique de mon pays ne favoriserait pas mon retour après avoir terminé mes études. Confronté à ce revers, j'ai décidé de poursuivre mon doctorat à Taïwan, cherchant des opportunités académiques ailleurs.

La situation dans la bande de Gaza a continué de se détériorer, incitant les Palestiniens à chercher des moyens alternatifs pour échapper aux circonstances difficiles et au siège imposé par les autorités israéliennes. En réponse, les habitants de la bande de Gaza ont initié une nouvelle forme de résistance à travers des manifestations aux frontières, connues sous le nom de la Grande Marche du Retour en 2018 et 2019. Cependant, Israël a répondu à ces manifestations par des tirs, entraînant la mort de plus de 240 Palestiniens et des blessures à plus de 10 000, dont beaucoup font face à des handicaps à vie. Malheureusement, les années suivantes ont peu changé, la réalité sombre persistant entre 2018 et 2023.

Vivant dans la bande de Gaza, il est devenu courant de connaître de nombreuses personnes qui ont perdu la vie aux mains de l'armée israélienne. Parmi ceux qui ont été touchés, je tiens à mettre en avant une catégorie spécifique - les personnes qui partageaient la même table que moi pendant mes années de lycée. En Palestine, chaque deux élèves partagent une table dans la salle de classe.

Les amis avec qui j'ai partagé des tables en 10e, 11e et 12e année ont tous connu une fin tragique des mains de l'armée israélienne. Il s'agissait de personnes que je connaissais et avec lesquelles j'étais proche.

Même avec de nombreux événements tristes se produisant à Gaza, il y avait autrefois des choses positives avant l'actuel génocide terrible en cours. C'était comme un endroit joyeux et organisé, mais qui faisait souvent face à des attaques et à des blocus d'Israël. Les gens en dehors de Gaza n'étaient pas au courant de l'existence d'une vie joyeuse et épanouie là-bas. Malgré les moments difficiles, nous avions des infrastructures et des services relativement décents à Gaza. Les habitants essayaient de vivre des moments heureux au milieu des décombres causés par Israël. Malheureusement, la situation s'est considérablement détériorée récemment, marquée par un génocide continu et dévastateur entraînant la mort ou la disparition de plus de 30 000 personnes. En décembre 2023, ma mère a été tuée à la maison suite aux dégâts importants causés par les bombardements de l'armée israélienne.
En janvier 2024, notre maison a été démolie par l'armée israélienne, un sort partagé par de nombreuses autres maisons de notre quartier.

Hazem Almassry

Dr. Hazem Almassry
Is from Gaza and an independent researcher with a doctorate degree in social research and cultural studies from National Yang Ming Chiao Tung University, Taiwan. He specializes in Middle East issues, particularly the Arab Spring and its social, political, and economic impacts, with a focus on democratic transition. He also researches political Islam movements and their influence on public life in the Arab world. Dr. Almassry has been invited to speak at institutes in Taiwan on his areas of expertise.

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The Zionist project, beginning 120 years ago in Palestine with Western support, led to the occupation of 78% of the land by 1948. This displaced 750,000 Palestinians, with 200,000 settling in Gaza. Today, Gaza's population, mainly comprising refugees or their descendants, traces back to this displacement. After the 1948 war, the Palestinian national movement emerged, resisting Israeli occupation. In 1967, Israel extended its occupation, prompting Palestinian movements in Jordan, Lebanon, and other countries. The 1980s saw a shift as Palestinians initiated the intifada in 1987, an uprising against Israeli occupation that originated in the North Gaza Strip and spread across the Palestinian territories.

My family and I hail from Khan Yunis City in the southern part of the Gaza Strip, although I was born in a Christian hospital affiliated with the Baptist Church in Gaza City. The intifada commenced when I was just two years old, shaping my awareness during this period of upheaval.

The intifada took on various forms, initially marked by civil disobedience and limited confrontations with the well-equipped Israeli army, considered one of the world's most advanced military forces. In certain areas, Palestinians refused to pay taxes to Israeli authorities in protest against the construction of Jewish settlements in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. The uprising, therefore, manifested as a multifaceted expression of resistance against the Israeli occupation.

In response to the civil disobedience during the intifada, the Israeli Army adopted harsh measures, including the confiscation of Palestinian properties to compel tax payment. Shop closures were also employed as a tactic to pressure Palestinians into meeting tax obligations. Personally, I witnessed Israeli forces confiscating furniture from Palestinian homes and shutting down shops. I, initially, didn't understand the reasons behind these actions. It became clear later that these measures were implemented to compel Palestinians into paying taxes.

Facing these challenges, Palestinians resorted to using stones and primitive weapons to confront the Israeli Army. In turn, the Israeli Army employed various suppressive measures, including opening fire, deploying tear gas, and conducting house raids. I recall numerous instances of the Israeli Army breaking into our house in pursuit of stone throwers. The use of live bullets resulted in casualties among Palestinians, and the first person I knew who was killed by the Israeli Army was a street cleaner from our neighborhood. He was our neighbor and had a mental health condition. His tragic death, caused by the Israeli Army, left a lasting impact on my childhood memories, as I was around 6 years old at the time.

As part of their efforts to suppress the Palestinian Intifada, the Israeli authorities implemented road closures. I distinctly recall a day when I, along with my brothers, was heading to school, only to find the main gate of our neighborhood sealed off with concrete barriers by the Israeli army. This compelled us to navigate alternative, narrower paths to reach school. In response to such restrictions, communities gathered in each neighborhood, establishing makeshift markets to buy essential items since accessing the central market became challenging.

Israel also resorted to cutting essential services as a means of quelling the Palestinian intifada. I vividly remember a period when the Israeli Army cut electricity for over 40 days and disrupted water supply for several days, forcing Palestinians to travel to distant locations to bring water. My brothers and I would use a trolley to transport water during these times.

Furthermore, Israel imposed curfews as a strategy to severely limit the movement of Palestinians for extended periods, adding another layer to the challenges faced by the community.

My mother was expecting my younger brother when the Israeli Army enforced a curfew that coincided with her delivery day. She shared her harrowing experience of being pregnant and going into labor during this period. Initially, my parents used a car within our neighborhood, where the Israeli Army presence was minimal.
However, they had to resort to walking along narrow and unfamiliar paths to reach the hospital. I try to imagine a pregnant woman experiencing labor pains having to navigate a considerable distance on foot to reach the hospital, in extremely risky conditions.

Throughout the intifada, the Israeli Army actively targeted Palestinian symbols, including flags and even cassette tapes featuring patriotic songs. Having such items posed a risk, as individuals caught with Palestinian patriotic song cassettes or flags could face prosecution in Israeli courts. I recall a specific instance where my brother had to dispose of a cassette containing Palestinian patriotic songs out of fear of being caught and imprisoned by Israeli authorities.

The First Palestinian Intifada concluded with the signing of the Oslo Accord in 1993, leading to the establishment of the Palestinian Authority. In 1994, the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) and its chairman, Yasser Arafat, entered the Gaza Strip. I vividly remember the collective excitement as people of all ages welcomed them, anticipating the establishment of the Palestinian Authority and the hope for a sovereign state and peaceful coexistence. While the situation improved compared to the pre-Oslo era, with fewer Israeli soldiers and military vehicles in our streets, it was not without challenges.

According to the Oslo Accords, the Israeli Authority was obligated to grant Palestinians permission to travel between the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. However, obtaining this permission was not universal ; some Palestinians received it, while others faced rejection. For instance, my brother applied for permission to attend a university in the West Bank after finishing high school, but his application was denied due to his association with individuals involved in resistance movements.
During this period Palestinians managed to establish an airport in the Gaza Strip, symbolizing a degree of sovereignty, albeit with partial Israeli control. However, the peace process collapsed in 2000, triggered by the establishment of Israeli settlements in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, with intentions to annex them, complicating negotiations on final borders with the Palestinians.

Following the breakdown of the peace process in 2000, the Palestinians initiated their second intifada, resorting to familiar methods of resistance such as throwing stones at the Israeli Army and employing light weapons. In response, Israel escalated its violence against Palestinians, introducing new military vehicles like warplanes and tanks to suppress the uprising.

Notably, the Palestinian airport became an early target, ultimately destroyed a few weeks into the intifada. Israel developed military tactics, including the "Shaving" strategy, viewing Palestinian territories as a head to be shaved, signifying destruction of everything on that "head"—buildings, farms, trees, houses. This strategy aimed to dismantle the Palestinian community by obliterating homes and the economy.
Rachel Corrie, an American activist, tragically lost her life while attempting to prevent an Israeli bulldozer from demolishing Palestinian properties in Rafah City.

In our own family, we experienced the profound impact of this strategy. We were previously in a good economic situation due to our farm, but one day, my father received an unforgettable call informing him that the Israeli Army was bulldozing our farm. This news proved catastrophic for us, leading to a severe deterioration in our economic condition.

In 2005, the Israeli government declared a disengagement plan from the Gaza Strip, but it was, in fact, a partial withdrawal from the cities while maintaining full control over the Gaza Strip on borders, air and sea. This limited Palestinians' ability to build infrastructure, such as an airport and port, and restricted their freedom of movement and the importation of goods.

With Hamas in control of the Gaza Strip, the Israeli government declared the Gaza Strip a hostile entity, officially imposing a blockade. However, I personally consider that the blockade on the Gaza Strip had started earlier, at least in 2001. The situation escalated in 2007 when the Israeli government tightened the siege, allowing only 18 items and products to enter Gaza while prohibiting others goods.

When Hamas took control of the Gaza Strip, Israel aimed for them to govern but not to become a strong force. As part of their strategy, Israel regularly employed the "mowing the grass" approach to diminish Hamas's capabilities and threat. This strategy involved launching numerous attacks on the Gaza Strip in 2008-2009, 2012, 2014, 2018 and 2021 to target Hamas's military capabilities. Coincidentally, my father passed away during one of these Israeli attacks in 2009 naturally. The difficulties extended even to laying him to rest, as we couldn't find cement to build his grave.
Fortunately, one of our neighbors had some cement and donated it to us since it wasn't among the permitted goods to enter the Gaza Strip.

The Israeli Army's attacks on the Gaza Strip under the siege were described as a very high scale of violence compared to previous incidents. Despite this, Palestinians managed to smuggle goods from Egypt through tunnels along the border, improving their living conditions without relying solely on Israeli-controlled border crossings. However, after the coup in Egypt in 2013, the new Egyptian government destroyed all the tunnels on the borders with the Gaza Strip. In 2014, just before one of the Israeli massive regular attacks, I applied for a visa to Australia after obtaining a Ph.D. scholarship from an Australian University. Unfortunately, my application was rejected, with the reasoning stating that the economic and political situation in my country would not encourage my return after completing my studies. Faced with this setback, I decided to pursue my Ph.D. in Taiwan, seeking academic opportunities elsewhere.
The situation in the Gaza Strip continued to worsen, prompting Palestinians to seek alternative ways to break free from the dire circumstances and the siege imposed by the Israeli Authority. In response, people in the Gaza Strip initiated a new form of resistance through protests at the borders, known as the Great March of Return in 2018 and 2019. However, Israel responded to these demonstrations with gunfire, resulting in the deaths of more than 240 Palestinians and injuries to over 10,000, with many facing lifelong disabilities. Unfortunately, subsequent years saw little change, with the grim reality persisting between 2018 and 2023.

Living in the Gaza Strip, it has become commonplace to know numerous individuals who lost their lives at the hands of the Israeli Army. Among those affected, I want to highlight a specific category—individuals who shared the same table with me during my Senior High School years. In Palestine, every two students share a table in the classroom.

The friends with whom I shared tables in Grade 10, Grade 11, and Grade 12, all met tragic ends at the hands of the Israeli Army. These were individuals I knew and was close to for about a year.

Even with many sad events happening in Gaza, there used to be good things before the current terrible genocide. It was like a happy and organized place, but it often faced attacks and blockades from Israel. People outside of Gaza didn't aware of the existence of a joyful and contented life there. Despite the tough times, we had relatively decent infrastructures and services in Gaza. People there tried to have happy moments amid the rubble caused by Israel. Unfortunately, the situation has deteriorated significantly recently, marked by an ongoing and devastating genocide resulting in the deaths or disappearances of over 30,000 people. Personally, in December 2023, my mother was killed at home by the Israeli Army, causing significant damage. Subsequently, in January 2024, our house was demolished by the Israeli army, a fate shared by many other homes in our neighborhood.

Hazem Almassry