Mala Hijazi
The Electronic Intifada / July 28, 2024
In last month’s US presidential debate – or “Who Supports Israel’s Genocide More” – Donald Trump criticized sitting president Joe Biden, “thusly:”
“He’s become like a Palestinian, but they don’t like him because he’s a very bad Palestinian. He’s a weak one.”
While Trump intended this as an insult to Biden, as a Palestinian I found it offensive to be compared to the US president.
“I’ve never heard so much foolishness,” Biden responded to Trump, for once correctly. Trump’s statement was completely inaccurate. Throughout this genocidal war, the US administration under Biden has indulged Israel like a spoiled child.
Beyond a single delayed shipment of arms, US support for Israel has been total. To cite just two examples, Biden signed a military aid package worth billions of dollars this year alone and the United States used its veto power at the United Nations in support of Israel’s continued slaughter.
In their live clown show, in fact, Biden and Trump found common ground on just one issue: supporting Israel in its genocide against Palestinians.
And that appears to be general consensus in America. On the same day as the debate, the US House of Representatives voted to prohibit the State Department from citing statistics from the Gaza Health Ministry, effectively aggreeing to conceal the ongoing genocide.
Criminal and proud
In a recently published article by Oren Ziv in +972 Magazine, Israeli soldiers recounted how they had nearly unlimited freedom to shoot as they pleased during the Gaza war, resulting in the widespread killing of Palestinian civilians.
These soldiers described being given the green light to fire on anyone in designated “no-go zones,” leading to regular executions of unarmed civilians who posed no immediate threat.
This indiscriminate shooting stemmed from a lack of clear engagement rules, allowing soldiers to broadly interpret threats and shoot without much oversight. Some soldiers confessed to firing out of sheer boredom, using it as a way to break the monotony of their daily routines.
Orders from commanders, or sometimes the absence of them, fostered an environment where killing civilians was normalized. This deadly permissiveness was fueled by a desire for revenge and a need to assert dominance, with military reports frequently mislabeling all males as “terrorists.”
Despite nine months of Palestinians recounting their own experiences and observations of genocide, it seems the world will only believe Israeli soldiers’ admission of their crimes.
In a world dominated by global white supremacy, events affecting Palestinians only gain recognition when an Israeli voices them. This highlights the pervasive and unjust disparity in whose narratives are deemed credible and worthy of attention.
As a Palestinian, in other words, I have to wait for an Israeli settler who lives on my stolen land to sympathize with me, fully realizing that the army of his state has forced me into this existence.
And yet, despite even these confessions, despite independent studies, the US administration continues to insist that the reported numbers of casualties from Gaza are exaggerated, underscoring the Israeli military’s confidence that there will be no consequences for its soldiers’ actions.
Biden out
On 21 July, Biden decided to withdraw from the presidential race. My family and friends immediately turned into political analysts, speculating on how this would impact the ongoing genocidal war in Gaza.
My mother, ever hopeful, believed that a woman would be better than a man, so she thought Kamala Harris would be an improvement over Joe Biden.
My younger sister, who never sees any light at the end of the road, argued that all the candidates are more Zionist than the Israelis themselves. She believed nothing would change and hoped it stayed that way because any change might be for the worse.
My friend suggested that Benjamin Netanyahu would now feel relieved from any pressure from the American administration. With the US now preoccupied with its internal issues, Netanyahu can prolong the war, knowing that the plight of Palestinians in Gaza will be even more neglected.
The shift in focus away from the current genocidal war might give him the freedom to act with even less restraint, worsening the already catastrophic situation, my friend opined.
My dad believes there is something bigger at play than just the candidates and their parties. He sees the influence of the Israel lobby that shapes political decisions in the US. He argues that while Biden proved a butcher during this war, Kamala Harris or Trump would be even worse.
I wonder if, were we not Palestinian, we would even care about the American presidential election. It’s insane how American policies impact our lives in Palestine. It’s outrageous that American taxes are used to supply Israel with the weapons to kill us.
Which candidate is the worst: Joe Biden, who supported the killing of more than 39,000 Palestinians in Gaza so far, or Donald Trump, who used “Palestinian” as an insult and believes Israel has the right to continue killing Palestinians as it pleases?
Or maybe Kamala Harris, who criticized the Obama administration’s decision to abstain from a UN Security Council resolution condemning Israeli settlements in the West Bank.
She also argued in 2021, that the US should oppose the International Criminal Court’s investigation into Israel for war crimes?
What seems most likely is that regardless of who is the next US president, American policies will continue to support Israeli aggression, and the suffering of Palestinians will only intensify. No matter who is in power, the underlying forces driving American politics will ensure that Israel’s interests are always prioritized over justice and human rights for Palestinians.
Constant uncertainty
In 1992, then-Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin remarked that he wished “the Gaza Strip would sink into the water.”
In the context of the ongoing genocidal war, his statement highlights the deep-seated and long-held disdain that Israel’s political and military leaders have harbored for Gaza and its people.
Gaza has always been seen as a curse, a place burdened for its occupiers by the weight of relentless resistance. The Israeli approach has frequently defaulted to lethal solutions. In Gaza, life feels like trying to “balance on the palm of a jinn” — a phrase we use to capture the deep instability and unpredictability we face every day.
Gaza has always suffered enforced misery – 57 years under military occupation, a tight siege for 17 years. We, its residents, have always been burdened with worries about our financial, political and security stability. The Mediterranean Sea is our sole refuge.
There have been shortages of everything — food, medicine, clean water – for decades. Israel attacked this small territory numerous times before this genocide. The people, especially children, endure constant trauma. Every daily task has become a challenge.
During this war, I find myself yearning for the life we once had, even with all its restrictions.
Small escalations were surely preferable to nine months of genocide. Having eight hours of electricity is better than none at all. Limited opportunities are better than having none. Even inadequate access to clean water is better than having none at all.
Travel difficulties are better than having no ability to travel whatsoever.
What we lived before was a slow genocide. Now, Israel is accelerating it, turning our daily struggles into a relentless nightmare.
The sense of normalcy we once clung to, however flawed, now feels like a distant memory, overshadowed by the immediacy of suffering and the constant threat of death.
Sometimes I wonder if my friend who lives in Khan Yunis in southern Gaza and I will have the chance to see each other again, to move freely without soldiers.
I ask my mother if there will come a day when I can eat an apple, a mango or a cucumber again or if I can stay in my house for a full two months without evacuation.
The Israeli army once again sent recorded messages to Palestinians in Gaza City instructing everyone to evacuate southward to Deir al-Balah, declaring all of Gaza City and the north a combat zone.
Despite US claims of disapproval, the displacement project continues.
I wonder where they will throw us next — into the sea or the Sinai desert?
No access
While packing my emergency bag – the one all Palestinians in Gaza have packed and ready, and which contains some of our essentials, like ID cards – I realized it was the first time I truly looked at the bag I had carried many times during this war.
It has “Access” written on it, alongside the stars of the American flag. It’s cheesy. Why do I carry a bag with American symbols?
I ponder the things Palestinians in Gaza never have the opportunity to access because of the current Israeli aggression and constant American support. What do we really get to access? Safety? Food? Education? Health care? A place to live? Literally nothing.
I remember my maternal great-grandmother, Mahbouba, who tragically lost a child during the 1947-49 Nakba. While fleeing Deir Sunayed, she became separated from her son, my mother’s uncle. Despite relentless efforts, she never learned his fate. Communication between refugees was nearly impossible at the time, leaving her in agonizing uncertainty for the rest of her life.
I think of my relative, Abdullah Abu al-Qumsan, who lost his young son in the war and now spends each morning hanging posters in search of him. Fuad was injured in a bombing in Jabalia refugee camp in October 2023. To this day, Abdullah does not know who has his son, where he might be, or if he’s alive or kidnapped.
I remember my father’s grandmother, Mariam, who left her jewelry in her home in Deir Sunayed during the Nakba, believing she would return soon. Neither she nor her grandchildren ever could.
Similarly, my aunt Nisreen put the key to her house under the rug during this war, moving southward in the same hope of a swift return that, just like 1948, remains unfulfilled.
I remember my grandmother, Widad, who was in her mother’s womb when her family evacuated on foot from Deir Sunayed to Deir al-Balah in November 1948. She was born there before later moving to the Jabalia camp.
During this war, my grandmother has had to evacuate multiple times in her wheelchair, navigating streets strewn with rubble. My cousins have had to carry her upstairs because there’s been no electricity for the elevator.
She was born in 1949 frail and undernourished due to the harsh conditions following the Nakba. Today, during this ongoing genocide and with limited access to food and medicine, my 75-year-old grandmother has become very weak, experiencing significant weight loss. She has frequently lost consciousness due to exhaustion.
I remember my childhood, overshadowed by fear. During the 2008 war, when I was eight years old, my mother would cover my eyes with her hand to shield me from the horrific scenes of the Israeli massacres on TV, while my father watched in silence.
Now, I watch photos and videos of massacres of my own free will. I seek to feel the pain as intensely as possible, to understand the methods of death inflicted.
A world not meant for us
I realize that I may be among those who get killed or injured. It’s very possible to die when Israeli soldiers, in their boredom, decide to shoot.
Throughout years of aggression and displacement, my family and I have longed for nothing but a homeland, a place to call home, and the familiar places from our memories that provided stability.
Is that too much to ask?
Life in Gaza long resembled dwelling on a land perched precariously atop a whale. Then, as suddenly as a storm’s onset, the whale plunged deep into the sea, and everything began to sink.
It’s like Rabin’s dream is coming true.
Each generation hopes to return, mourns separation and relentlessly pursues a home that remains out of reach. This world often feels like it wasn’t meant for us.
This world wasn’t meant for Mahbouba, Abdullah, Mariam, Nisreen, Widad or me.
This is our reality — a world that denies us the absolute basic necessities others take for granted and, in many ways, excludes Palestinians.
I understand why Trump uses “Palestinian” as an insult, and why Biden was deeply offended. As Palestinians, we often feel out of place and time.
When you’re a Palestinian, you are excluded from normal consideration.
Malak Hijazi is a Gaza-based writer
