Universal versus particular identity: reflections on a visit to Palestine.

• Author: Hovsepian, Nubar

THE PASSING OF TIME enables one to absorb the various meanings of important events. I choose to write now about my first visit to Palestine, which actually took place in the first two weeks of July 1993. In retrospect, it seems appropriate that at long last I had the occasion to visit the place that played a central role in shaping the views and commitments of many in my generation. Palestine is not an ordinary place, in fact it is a controversial and contested place. In this connection Edward Said asks:

Where do we stand on the question of Palestine? ... there is no neutrality, there can be no neutrality or objectivity about Palestine ... so ideologically saturated is the question of Palestine, so manifestly present is it to most people who come to deal with it, that even a superficial or cursory apprehension of it involves a position taken, an interest defended, or a claim or right asserted. There is no indifference, no objectivity, no neutrality because there is simply no room for them in a space that is as crowded and overdetermined as this one.(1)

In the early days of my youth, Palestine played a key role in forming my political consciousness. In addition, the reader should know that I am an Armenian born in Cairo. My family emigrated to the United States in 1962. Upon the completion of my university studies I went to Beirut in 1972, only to witness and live what Charles Dickens, in his A Tale of Two Cities, described as "the best of times, and the worst of times". Now I write and teach in New York, and I am married to a Palestinian whose father was exiled from al-Majdal (Palestine) in 1949, thus she has never set eyes on her homeland. Our daughter was born in Saudi Arabia, but somehow, as we rear her in the United States, we will have to instill in her an inclusive Armenian-Palestinian-Arab collective memory.

Since the end of the Cold War, and the painful experiences of the Gulf War, Palestine has been marginalized in Arab politics. Despite this, we all retain the right to register opinions and take positions on matters pertaining to the fate and future of Palestine.(2) Despite the prevailing condition of Arab discord, Palestine remains both a secular reality and a "holy" place which evokes and provokes our collective emotions.

Weeks prior to boarding the British Airways flight to Tel Aviv (Ben Gurion airport), I was filled with great excitement and anticipation. Unlike most Palestinians, I was not about to embark on a so-called trip down memory lane. I was not seeking to find the home from which my family was evicted, instead I identified with Palestine and its people through a universal vision calling for peace and justice. Soon I would add a spatial and geographic dimension to my understanding of this highly contested place. In London I had lunch with two Palestinian friends who have been estranged from their homeland for decades. They were pleasantly envious of the trip I was about to embark upon. Through me they would relive the memories of their childhood in Palestine. I took their dreams and yearnings with me as the plane carried me to my destination.

I arrived in Tel Aviv on Sunday, 4 July, at 5:00 A.M. Despite my American passport, the Passport Control agent asked me to follow her to the police station. The officer in charge told me, "You have to go back." I inquired why? He said, "All I can tell you ... for security reasons ...." is that my name happens to be listed on their computer. At this point I remembered the words of an Israeli human rights attorney who years before told me: "In Israel our security services believe in life after death. Even after you die, your name will be kept alive on their computer's list of undesirables." Anyway, I was escorted to the "security" desk, located somewhere in a rear office. I was asked several questions: Why are you here? How many years have you been living in the U.S.? Who are you going to see? What will you do? In less than an hour, I insisted on being furnished with the number of the American Embassy. I was given access to a telephone. To make a long story short, within five hours, interventions on my behalf by both the American Embassy and a certain member of the Knesset paved the way for my entry.

During these five hours I told my detainers that I would not leave voluntarily. In fact I told them that they would have to forcibly carry me onto the plane should I be denied entry. The police official responded with some irritation, "Sir, we will not force you to do anything." During these morning hours as I awaited my fate, my mind wandered to the Arab World. In any Arab capital, (not just Baghdad), would security officers allow me the right to be stubborn and tenacious in insisting on my rights? Or is it more likely that I would have been subjected to at least verbal abuse, and more probably to physical violence? This thought saddened me even more, when I was finally invited to enter Israel with a begrudging but courteous "Welcome to Israel."

I took a taxi to Jerusalem, which was to be my final destination. Though I had not slept for more than 24 hours, I was extremely alert and overcome with excitement. We drove eastward on a highway which links Tel Aviv with Jerusalem. The topography of the land has a striking resemblance to Lebanon south of Jezzine. The new architecture seemed incongruent with what one would expect of the Middle East. Arab architecture has been replaced with "modern" monstrosities, thus changing its oriental features. Were it not for the anarchic and dangerous driving, I would have felt as if I were driving in Europe.

Within an hour we arrived in Jerusalem. As we drove through the western part of the city, I was overcome with the presence of uniformed soldiers almost everywhere. Such sights reminded me of both Damascus and Baghdad. As we crossed the imaginary divide between West and East Jerusalem, I felt more at home. Indeed Jerusalem is two separate cities, a Jewish one, which is clearly more affluent, and its Arab counterpart. We arrived at the American Colony Hotel, a nice 19th Century edifice. The Palestinian staff welcomed me warmly, principally because they already knew that I had been detained at the airport. The reasoning behind this is simple: Anyone who is detained must have done something commendable, therefore has earned his proper credentials.

The technical reason for my visit to Palestine was to attend and speak at a conference jointly organized by Birzeit University and the Association of Arab-American University Graduates. Indeed, the next morning I drove with friends to Birzeit University. We exited Jerusalem via an Israeli checkpoint located at Beit Hanina. This is the line of demarcation of Israel's "Greater Jerusalem," which includes many expropriated and annexed Arab lands. As...