Taraf - Istanbul - 05.12.2010
Brezilya Devlet Başkanı Lula da Silva, koltuğunu halefi Dilma Roussef’e devretmesine bir ay kala, Filistin devletini tanıma kararı aldı, hem de 1967 sınırlarıyla. Lula’nın bu kararı, Filistin lideri Mahmud Abbas’ın 24 kasımda ilettiği kişisel bir istek üzerine aldığı belirtiliyor.
Tıpkı Kıbrıs’ta olduğu gibi, Yeşil Hat diye de anılan 1967 öncesi sınırlar, 1949 ateşkesinde savaşan güçlerin bulunduğu cephe çizgisine tekabül ediyor. 2005’ten itibaren Gazze şeridinden geri çekilen İsrail, Batı Şeria’nın birçok bölümünü yalnızca askerî işgal altında tutmuyor, yeni inşaatlarla birçok sivilin yerleşmesini de teşvik ediyor. 1947’de Birleşmiş Milletler nezdinde çizilen haritada ise Batı Şeria’nın sınırları Kudüs’ün çok daha batısında yer alıyor. Birçok radikal Filistinli ise, BM’nin ilk çizdiği bu sınırlara geri dönülmesini talep ediyor. El Fetih’in üst düzey yetkililerinden Nebil Şaat, “Brezilya Ortadoğu’da özgürlük, adalet ve barışın yolunu çizmeye yardımcı oluyor” diyerek kararı memnuniyetle karşıladığını açıkladı. İsrail Dışişleri Bakanlığı sözcüsü Andy David ise “Brezilya Devlet Başkanı bu duyuruyla barış sürecine katkıda bulunmak yerine zarar vermiştir” diye konuştu. Karar ABD’de de yankı uyandırdı. Temsilciler Meclisi’nin Latin Amerika ülkeleriyle ilişkiler komitesi başkanı, Demokrat milletvekili Eliot Engel “yanlış” diye değerlendirdiği karara uyarı gibi bir tepki gösterdi: “Brezilya’nın yeni lider kadrosunun, bu tavrını sürdürdüğü sürece BM Güvenlik Konseyi’nin daimi üyesi olamayacağını ve gelişmekte olan bir güç olarak itibar kazanamayacağını anlamasını umuyoruz.”
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FİLİSTİN HALKININ DEĞİŞMEYEN ÇİLESİ etiketine sahip kayıtlar gösteriliyor. Tüm kayıtları göster
FİLİSTİN HALKININ DEĞİŞMEYEN ÇİLESİ etiketine sahip kayıtlar gösteriliyor. Tüm kayıtları göster
14 Aralık 2010 Salı
A Day In Sabra and Shatilla
Originally published in Hurriyet Daily News
BEIRUT – Anybody old enough to recall the 1980s would probably also recall the horrific fate of Sabra and Shatilla. These two adjacent Palestinian camps just outside of Beirut had become the setting of the massacre of more than two thousand people in September 1982. Not just men but women and children were mercilessly slaughtered by the Christian Maronite militias, while their Israeli allies watched uncaringly at arm’s length. It was a truly dark episode for mankind.
Almost three decades later, which is just the other day, I had the chance to see Sabra and Shatilla for myself for the first time. And I felt hardly any better than when I first saw the photos of that shocking massacre.
I actually came to Beirut for a brief research on the impact of Turkey’s new foreign policy in the region – a story that I hope to share later. Yet none of my meeting and observations were as eye-opening as the couple of hours I spent in these refugee camps. In fact, nothing that I have seen in a long time was as touching as the old woman in Sabra who was still longing for her parents’ home in Haifa, from which they were expelled in 1948 to live in these destitute camps.
First, a little background: When Israel unleashed its first wave of ethnic cleansing on Palestinian Arabs in 1948, some 700 thousand of them became refugees. In 1967, Israel occupied the remaining part of Palestine, too, creating at least 300,000 more refugees, some of which came to Lebanon. While most Muslims and the Druze of Lebanon felt solidarity with these asylum seekers, Christian Maronites saw them as uninvited guests. When the Palestinians started to arm themselves, becoming a foreign army in Lebanon, the tension further peaked. Finally a civil war broke out in 1975, which would last for 15 years, and lead to brutality by all sides.
So, one could say, Israeli expansionism not only traumatized the Palestinian people, but also tore the Lebanese apart.
Today, the narrow, dark and dirty alleys of Sabra looks like a testimony of that doomed history. This is a giant shantytown where people live literally on top of each other. The three-story “buildings” are made up of bricks and pieces of metal and plastic, and are surrounded by an ugly web of cables. The distance between the blocks is sometimes less than a meter, which means that you can barely see the sky through them.
Not only the sun but also air is scarce in the camps. Most homes don’t have any window. I saw a “kitchen” whose only utensils were a few rusty bawls, and whose floor was flooded by dirty water. “You actually see the camp in its cleanest mood,” said one of the refugees. “In winter, when it rains a lot, water floats all around.”
Yet poverty is not the real source of resentment in here. It is the feeling of oppression (by the Israelis) and discrimination (by the Lebanese). Most Palestinians have simply no legal status in Lebanon. So, they can’t buy or even rent places and even need permits to leave their refugee camps. They are denied access to Lebanese schools and hospitals, a tragedy compensated only partly by the efforts of the United Nations. They are not even second-class citizens, to use that famous term: they are rather sub-humans.
All this plight looks all the more disturbing when compared to Beirut’s extravagant nightlife, which presents a baffling synthesis of the most expensive cars, clothes and accessories you can imagine. This is an all-night-party city, full of fancy restaurants, bars and clubs. I have been to some of those places as well, and met wonderful people there, for whom I wish only the best. But I also wonder what they think, if they ever do, of the plight of Palestinians, which is caused and perpetuated partly by the decisions of their political leaders.
Of course, the same question is even more relevant for Israelis, who enjoy the privileges of their prosperous country, which is built on a country that used to belong to another people. I wish all the best, including peace and security, for the Israelis as well, but I also wonder what they think about the millions of people that they forced out of their homes. Does it really mean anything to them that their heaven is the hell of others? Does it give them any sense of guilt, any feeling of responsibility?
Or is humanity, as some claim, really overrated?
I admit: my visit to Sabra and Shatilla gave me all that cynicism. But it also gave me pride as a Turk, when I saw the poster of Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, on the walls of Sabra. It was a reminder that my government has stood by the Palestinians, and stood at the right side of history.
That right side is certainly not to call for Israel’s destruction, and support terrorist acts against Israeli civilians, as Iran unacceptably does. But it is also not to worship “Israel’s right to security,” while seeing the Palestinians’ rights as a side issue, as successive American administrations have unbelievably done.
It is rather to stand for justice for all. And if you believe for a moment that justice has been served in the Middle East, I would suggest you to go to Sabra and see it for your self. Facts on the ground are the best antidote to delusions in the mind.
Written by Mustafa Akyol on October 22nd, 2010
Hürriyet Daily News
BEIRUT – Anybody old enough to recall the 1980s would probably also recall the horrific fate of Sabra and Shatilla. These two adjacent Palestinian camps just outside of Beirut had become the setting of the massacre of more than two thousand people in September 1982. Not just men but women and children were mercilessly slaughtered by the Christian Maronite militias, while their Israeli allies watched uncaringly at arm’s length. It was a truly dark episode for mankind.
Almost three decades later, which is just the other day, I had the chance to see Sabra and Shatilla for myself for the first time. And I felt hardly any better than when I first saw the photos of that shocking massacre.
I actually came to Beirut for a brief research on the impact of Turkey’s new foreign policy in the region – a story that I hope to share later. Yet none of my meeting and observations were as eye-opening as the couple of hours I spent in these refugee camps. In fact, nothing that I have seen in a long time was as touching as the old woman in Sabra who was still longing for her parents’ home in Haifa, from which they were expelled in 1948 to live in these destitute camps.
First, a little background: When Israel unleashed its first wave of ethnic cleansing on Palestinian Arabs in 1948, some 700 thousand of them became refugees. In 1967, Israel occupied the remaining part of Palestine, too, creating at least 300,000 more refugees, some of which came to Lebanon. While most Muslims and the Druze of Lebanon felt solidarity with these asylum seekers, Christian Maronites saw them as uninvited guests. When the Palestinians started to arm themselves, becoming a foreign army in Lebanon, the tension further peaked. Finally a civil war broke out in 1975, which would last for 15 years, and lead to brutality by all sides.
So, one could say, Israeli expansionism not only traumatized the Palestinian people, but also tore the Lebanese apart.
Today, the narrow, dark and dirty alleys of Sabra looks like a testimony of that doomed history. This is a giant shantytown where people live literally on top of each other. The three-story “buildings” are made up of bricks and pieces of metal and plastic, and are surrounded by an ugly web of cables. The distance between the blocks is sometimes less than a meter, which means that you can barely see the sky through them.
Not only the sun but also air is scarce in the camps. Most homes don’t have any window. I saw a “kitchen” whose only utensils were a few rusty bawls, and whose floor was flooded by dirty water. “You actually see the camp in its cleanest mood,” said one of the refugees. “In winter, when it rains a lot, water floats all around.”
Yet poverty is not the real source of resentment in here. It is the feeling of oppression (by the Israelis) and discrimination (by the Lebanese). Most Palestinians have simply no legal status in Lebanon. So, they can’t buy or even rent places and even need permits to leave their refugee camps. They are denied access to Lebanese schools and hospitals, a tragedy compensated only partly by the efforts of the United Nations. They are not even second-class citizens, to use that famous term: they are rather sub-humans.
All this plight looks all the more disturbing when compared to Beirut’s extravagant nightlife, which presents a baffling synthesis of the most expensive cars, clothes and accessories you can imagine. This is an all-night-party city, full of fancy restaurants, bars and clubs. I have been to some of those places as well, and met wonderful people there, for whom I wish only the best. But I also wonder what they think, if they ever do, of the plight of Palestinians, which is caused and perpetuated partly by the decisions of their political leaders.
Of course, the same question is even more relevant for Israelis, who enjoy the privileges of their prosperous country, which is built on a country that used to belong to another people. I wish all the best, including peace and security, for the Israelis as well, but I also wonder what they think about the millions of people that they forced out of their homes. Does it really mean anything to them that their heaven is the hell of others? Does it give them any sense of guilt, any feeling of responsibility?
Or is humanity, as some claim, really overrated?
I admit: my visit to Sabra and Shatilla gave me all that cynicism. But it also gave me pride as a Turk, when I saw the poster of Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, on the walls of Sabra. It was a reminder that my government has stood by the Palestinians, and stood at the right side of history.
That right side is certainly not to call for Israel’s destruction, and support terrorist acts against Israeli civilians, as Iran unacceptably does. But it is also not to worship “Israel’s right to security,” while seeing the Palestinians’ rights as a side issue, as successive American administrations have unbelievably done.
It is rather to stand for justice for all. And if you believe for a moment that justice has been served in the Middle East, I would suggest you to go to Sabra and see it for your self. Facts on the ground are the best antidote to delusions in the mind.
Written by Mustafa Akyol on October 22nd, 2010
Hürriyet Daily News
29 Ekim 2010 Cuma
Sabra-Şatilla’da Erdoğan Portreleri
***
Hatırlayanlar hatırlayacaktır, Beyrut’un azıcık dışında yer alan bu iki komşu Filistinli mülteci kampı 1982 eylülünde korkunç bir katliama sahne olmuştu. İsrail destekli Hıristiyan Falanjist milisler, bu kamplara girip 3 bine yakın masum insanı öldürmüşlerdi.
Aradan geçen 28 yıldan sonra bugün Sabra-Şatilla’da katliam yok ama sefalet var


Burası, özetle, çok sıkışık bir gecekondu mahallesi. Derme-çatma binalar arasındaki mesafe çoğu yerde 1 metreden az. Dahası hiçbir altyapı olmadığı için tüm kablolar havada geziyor. Dolayısıyla Sabra’nın daracık sokaklarından tepeye bakınca gökyüzünü göremiyorsunuz bile.
Bazı evlerin içine girdim, karşılaştığım sefalete şaşırdım. Bir “mutfak” gördüm ki, zemininde pis bir su birikintisi, tezgahında iki tane paslı tencere vardı. Odalar penceresiz, çocuklar çelimsizdi.
Bu düzeyde fakirliğe Türkiye dahil daha pek çok ülkede de yer yer rastlayabilirsiniz. Ama Filistin kamplarındaki en yakıcı şey fakirlik değil, bunun sistematik bir zulüm ile “yaratılmış” olması. Bazıları üç jenerasyondur bu kamplarda yaşayan Filistinliler, sahip oldukları evlerinden İsrail tarafından sürülmüş, sığındıkları Lübnan gibi komşu ülkelerde de insan yerine konmamış haldeler.
Umutlarını ise ya El Fetih’te ya Hamas’a bağlamış durumdalar. Dolayısıyla Sabra-Şatilla’nın kirli sokaklarını Yaser Arafat’ın yahut Şeyh Ahmed Yasin’in posterleri süslüyor.
Bir de Başkakan Erdoğan’ın gülümseyen portreleri…
“Türkiye’den geliyorum” dediğimde de aynı şekilde gülümseyen Filistinli yüzleriyle karşılaştım. Ve ülkemden ilk defa bu kadar gurur duydum.
Bana ve nice milyonlara bu gururu yaşattığınız için teşekkürler Erdoğan, teşekkürler Davutoğlu…
Ve yola devam Türkiye…
Yazar: Mustafa Akyol 'un yazısından alıntılanmıştır.
26 Ekim 2010 tarihli Star gazetesinde yayınlandı.
Hatırlayanlar hatırlayacaktır, Beyrut’un azıcık dışında yer alan bu iki komşu Filistinli mülteci kampı 1982 eylülünde korkunç bir katliama sahne olmuştu. İsrail destekli Hıristiyan Falanjist milisler, bu kamplara girip 3 bine yakın masum insanı öldürmüşlerdi.
Aradan geçen 28 yıldan sonra bugün Sabra-Şatilla’da katliam yok ama sefalet var
Burası, özetle, çok sıkışık bir gecekondu mahallesi. Derme-çatma binalar arasındaki mesafe çoğu yerde 1 metreden az. Dahası hiçbir altyapı olmadığı için tüm kablolar havada geziyor. Dolayısıyla Sabra’nın daracık sokaklarından tepeye bakınca gökyüzünü göremiyorsunuz bile.
Bazı evlerin içine girdim, karşılaştığım sefalete şaşırdım. Bir “mutfak” gördüm ki, zemininde pis bir su birikintisi, tezgahında iki tane paslı tencere vardı. Odalar penceresiz, çocuklar çelimsizdi.
Bu düzeyde fakirliğe Türkiye dahil daha pek çok ülkede de yer yer rastlayabilirsiniz. Ama Filistin kamplarındaki en yakıcı şey fakirlik değil, bunun sistematik bir zulüm ile “yaratılmış” olması. Bazıları üç jenerasyondur bu kamplarda yaşayan Filistinliler, sahip oldukları evlerinden İsrail tarafından sürülmüş, sığındıkları Lübnan gibi komşu ülkelerde de insan yerine konmamış haldeler.
Umutlarını ise ya El Fetih’te ya Hamas’a bağlamış durumdalar. Dolayısıyla Sabra-Şatilla’nın kirli sokaklarını Yaser Arafat’ın yahut Şeyh Ahmed Yasin’in posterleri süslüyor.
Bir de Başkakan Erdoğan’ın gülümseyen portreleri…
“Türkiye’den geliyorum” dediğimde de aynı şekilde gülümseyen Filistinli yüzleriyle karşılaştım. Ve ülkemden ilk defa bu kadar gurur duydum.
Bana ve nice milyonlara bu gururu yaşattığınız için teşekkürler Erdoğan, teşekkürler Davutoğlu…
Ve yola devam Türkiye…
Yazar: Mustafa Akyol 'un yazısından alıntılanmıştır.
26 Ekim 2010 tarihli Star gazetesinde yayınlandı.
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