In recent times, alarmist headlines targeting Palestinian refugees in Lebanon have multiplied, politically and in the media, within a tense context following Al-Aqsa Flood, the Zionist genocide and the aggression against Lebanon, which casts a heavy shadow on the country. The repercussions of these events were not confined to southern Lebanon or to shifts in the roles of the resistance; rather, they have been exploited to launch a systematic campaign that further tightened the noose around Palestinians’ livelihoods and rights.
This became strikingly evident through a frenzied campaign targeting the Palestinian camps, as if there were open scores to be settled with the refugees in Lebanon, against the backdrop of their natural stance in support of the Lebanese resistance. This campaign translated into unjustified security measures carried out by the Lebanese authorities through the army, including the closure of camp entrances and the construction of military watchtowers monitoring the details of refugees’ lives and even their breathing, an image that evokes the figure of “Big Brother” in George Orwell’s novel 1984.
This was accompanied by an exposed and failed media claim, led by some Lebanese newspapers, alleging that the handover of Palestinian weapons had positively affected the situation of the refugees—an assertion that stands in stark contradiction to the deteriorating living and social reality inside the camps. In parallel, the Palestine Liberation Organization in Lebanon, through the special representative of Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, his son Yasser Abbas, aligned itself with this media propaganda, promoting the idea that Palestinians are now “better off” under this strategy, that UNRWA is doing what is required, and that criticizing its performance constitutes “national treason.” It is worth noting that Yasser Abbas’s name is circulating as a candidate for membership in the PLO Executive Committee, in a context understood as political inheritance laden with significance.
By contrast, a state of paralysis and disorientation has prevailed among the Palestinian resistance forces, particularly Hamas and Islamic Jihad, both of which have been cornered into a narrow space whose sole heading is “handing over weapons.” They are pushed to make this manufactured issue their overriding “concern,” at the expense of the struggle for Palestinian rights, as they are pulled into protocol meetings with ministers and officials, confined to appeals and promises that Palestinians have grown weary of hearing.
With Yasser Abbas effectively taking over the dialogue file, and due to new Lebanese orientations that no longer recognize any legitimacy for Palestinian factions in dialogue, this discussion disappeared entirely, replaced by the language of pressure rather than the language of rights.
In this context, major questions arise regarding the absence of any serious discussion within the Lebanese–Palestinian Dialogue Committee about approving civil rights for the refugees—rights that Palestinians were promised following President Abbas’s most recent visit to Lebanon, when political statements spoke of “facilitations” linked to the handover of camp weapons. Yet with Yasser Abbas practically assuming control of this dialogue file, and in light of the new Lebanese approaches that no longer see Palestinian factions as legitimate interlocutors, this discussion vanished altogether, and the language of pressure supplanted the language of rights.
Civil Rights and Reviving the Role of the Diaspora
From here emerges the need for new methodologies in thinking and practice to confront a rising trajectory of marginalization, deprivation, and restriction imposed on the Palestinian refugee in Lebanon, and the direct impact this has on their role in struggle. In this framework, this approach converges with what Palestinian writer Khaled Barakat has argued: that basic civil rights for Palestinian refugees in Lebanon are not merely a livelihood demand, but rather “a political and struggle-based condition for reviving the role of the diaspora masses and enabling them to shoulder their historical responsibilities toward their people and their cause.”
Barakat adds that “a refugee who enjoys their rights is a refugee more capable of organizing, of building popular initiatives, and of waging battles in defense of Palestine in Lebanese, Arab, and international arenas.” He goes even further by affirming that “winning civil rights is inseparable from the battle of liberation and return; it is one of its most important conditions. One cannot speak of a resisting diaspora while the Palestinian in the camp is left hostage to poverty, deprivation, and marginalization.”
In this context, the writer places responsibility on the vanguard of revolutionary Palestinian youth, alongside the living forces within Lebanese society, to build a unifying discourse that transcends incitement and seasonal activism, and confronts the scourge of racism and attempts to fish in troubled waters.
Accordingly, the struggle in Palestine cannot be separated from the struggle in Lebanon. This interconnection is not only a Palestinian choice, but also a Lebanese one for the forces that believe in the rights of the Palestinian refugee as a path that strengthens their steadfastness and struggle against projects of displacement and the negation of the right of return.
Is the Media the Gateway?
In recent years, Palestinian digital media has played a pivotal role in shedding light on the issues of Palestinian refugees in Lebanon and their organic connection to Palestine, especially after the events of October 7. This came amid the absence of a traditional Palestinian media capable of properly keeping pace with refugee issues. Digital media filled this gap through platforms that conveyed images of deprivation and suffering from the heart of the camps—through photos, news, and video—without fabrication or exaggeration.
Recently, however, the need has emerged for a media outlet that breaks the silence—not merely to display scenes of misery, but to pose the fundamental questions: Why does this marginalization persist? Why is it worsening? And why is the Palestinian asked to remain silent?
The real question, then, is not: Why do we break the silence about the reality of our camps? Rather: Why do we remain silent and bury our heads in the sand? Is silence in this case not complicity—perhaps even more than that?
From here came the podcast “Breaking the Silence,” which in its first three episodes addressed sensitive issues long left unspoken in Palestinian media. The first episode discussed the repercussions of the bombing of a sports field in Ain al-Hilweh camp in southern Lebanon and the dangers this poses to the lives of refugees. Through activists, it raised frank questions about the role of UNRWA and the factions in protecting the camps, and what could happen if such bombardment were to be repeated.
The second episode opened the file of the closure of entrances to Beddawi camp in northern Lebanon, and the suffocating siege that turned the camp into something resembling a prison. It discussed the reasons Lebanese authorities summoned journalists who covered the issue, and the role of the factions in confronting this catastrophe.
In the third episode, the issue of education in UNRWA in Lebanon was addressed through hosting a former director who was dismissed from his job because of his stance on Gaza, under the pretext of the “policy of neutrality.” An in-depth discussion took place about the reality of the educational process, its flaws, and its dangerous repercussions for a generation of Palestinian refugees.
As much as this podcast represents an urgent need for Palestinian refugees in Lebanon, it remains a small building block in a long path that begins with breaking the silence, within an extremely sensitive reality in which the Palestinian is besieged by an invisible wall that prevents speaking freely about their rights as a human being, in a country where levels of racism against foreigners are escalating to the point that Lebanon has clearly come to the forefront.