Sabra and Shatila

Bayan Nuwayhed Al-Hout

Description

Now available for the first time in English, this classic book is the most comprehensive, authoritative account of the Sabra and Shatila massacre and what happened and who was responsible.



Taking place over three bloody days in the Lebanese capital Beirut, the Sabra and Shatila massacre was committed against Palestinian refugees by Lebanese militias, aided and supervised by the Israeli Army, which had encircled the district. Driven by the horror of what occurred, author Bayan Nuwayhed al-Hout, interviewed survivors and set up an oral history project immediately after the massacre to preserve testimonies.



Containing interviews with the victims families, in addition to statistical data and attempts to determine the number of victims, this book is a courageous attempt to make sense of what happened and an important political document in its own right.
Acknowledgment

Introduction

Part 1: Testimonies And Accounts

1. The Place And The Residents: Between The Emigrations Of 1948 And 1982

2. The Israeli Army Encircles The District

3. Friday, September 17, 1982

4. Saturday, September 18, 1982

5. The Killer And The Victim

Part 2: Statistics And Comparisons

1. Field Study, Spring 1984

2. Counting The Victims

Conclusion: Who Was Responsible?

Appendices

Bibliography

Index

Sujets

• Middle Est
• HISTORY
• Histoire
• History of the Middle East
• General officer
• Military
• General
• Lebanon

Informations

• Publié par: Pluto Press
• Date de parution: 20 août 2004
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781849642590
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

SABRA AND SHATILA

September 1982

Bayan Nuwayhed al-Hout

● LONDON ANN ARBOR, MI

First published 2004 by Pluto Press 345 Archway Road, London N6 5AA and 839 Greene Street, Ann Arbor, MI 48106

www.plutobooks.com

© Bayan Nuwayhed al-Hout 2004

The right of Bayan Nuwayhed al-Hout to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 0 7453 2303 0 hardback ISBN 0 7453 2302 2 paperback

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data applied for

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Designed and produced for Pluto Press by Chase Publishing Services, Fortescue, Sidmouth, EX10 9QG, England Typeset from disk by Newgen Imaging Systems, India Printed and bound in Canada by Tran scontinental Printing

In Remembrance of the victims of Sabra and Shatila

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Contents

PART I: TESTIMONIES AND ACCOUNTS 1 The Place and the Residents: Between the Emigrations of 1948 and 1982 2 The Israeli Army Encircles the District 3 Thursday 16 September 1982 4 Friday 17 September 1982 5 Saturday 18 September 1982 6 The Killer and the Victim

PART II: STATISTICS AND COMPARISONS 7 Field Study, Spring 1984 8 Counting the Victims Conclusion: Who was Responsible?

Notes Appendix 1: Tables Table 1: References of the questionnaire Table 2.a: Nationalities of the victims Table 2.b: Nationalities of the abducted Table 3: Gender of the victims Table 4.a: Victims: age groups Table 4.b: Child victims: age/nationality Table 4.c: Victims (13–18 years): age/nationality Table 4.d: Victims (19–50 years): age/nationality Table 4.e: Victims (aged 51 and above): age/nationality Table 5.a: Abducted: age groups Table 5.b: Abducted (13–18 years): age/nationality Table 5.c: Abducted (19–50 years): age/nationality Table 5.d: Abducted (aged 51 and over): age/nationality Table 6.a: Professions of the victims Table 6.b: Professions of the abducted Table 7.a: Victims: family member/financial responsibility Table 7.b: Abducted: family member/financial responsibility Table 8.a: Victims and abducted: educational level Table 8.b: Palestinian victims and abducted: educational level Table 9: Identification of victims’ bodies Table 10.a: Witnesses to the abduction operation Table 10.b: Identity of the abductor Table 11.a: Families with more than one member killed

ix

1

17

19 46 73 114 163 201

243 245 275 297

325 344 344 344 344 345 345 345 345 346 347 347 347 347 347 348 348 349 349 349 349 350 350 350 350

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Table 11.b: Table 12: Table 13: Table 14:

Table 15:

Families with more than one member abducted Victims and abducted: time/place Freedom fighters who died: identity/time/place Families of Palestinian victims and abducted: migrations and movements Fate of the Palestinian families

Appendix 2: Names List of names 1: Victims of Sabra and Shatila massacre: based on field study, spring 1984 List of names 2: Abducted in Sabra and Shatila massacre: based on field study, spring 1984 List of names 3: Victims of Sabra and Shatila massacre: based on various sources List of names 4: Abducted and missing in Sabra and Shatila massacre: based on various sources

Appendix 3: Photographs

Appendix 4: Maps Map 1: Sabra, Shatila and the surrounding districts Map 2: Inner streets and landmarks Map 3: Israeli positions and the borders of the massacre Map 4: Locations for quoted witness accounts (by account number) Map 5: Shelters and death pits

Bibliography

Index

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351 351 352

353 357

358

359

372 375

393

403

429 430 431 432 433 434

435

452

Acknowledgements

If I were to mention every person whose efforts I feel merit acknowledgement, the number would be literally in the hundreds. First and foremost, I must thank all those, victims’ relatives or witnesses, with whom I conducted lengthy interviews, and all those who provided whatever information they had to members of the field study team. My gratitude is further due to those who assisted me in recording testimonies or filling out questionnaires. Without the help of all these, the present book would have been quite simply impossible. Then there are the friends: those who opened their doors to allow me to conduct interviews with victims’ relatives in their homes; and those who, by concealing the initial tapes and documents, not only aided the project but, still more, made me feel I was not alone. I thank all the friends who, through later 1982 and 1983, provided support from abroad – from Washington, London, Bonn or Rome – sending whatever press cuttings, books or videotapes they could find. This, needless to say, was material I could have found at local bookshops had the security situation been otherwise. Who, I ask myself, has remained by my side through those 20 years? Who did I turn to? And who made a point of providing me with encouragement and support? I must begin with those who have accom- panied me through the various periods of the project, from the very beginning. First, my husband Shafiq al-Hout, who, from the time we were married in the early 1960s, never ceased to encourage me to go on with my writing; while I concluded my university studies, then, afterwards, through every piece of scholarly work. Yet with the Sabra and Shatila project his role went beyond simple encouragement. He had to bear the whole burden with me, including the review of each and every chapter as

I completed it at the turn of the new century. His comments and remarks were always highly significant, and I never failed to give them the most thorough consideration. He has in fact, from the time he was appointed as representative of the Palestine Liberation Organization in 1964, been a leading expert in Palestinian–Lebanese relations, and he is also an astute critic – one of the few who has been able, in daily and intellectual life, to manage that difficult trio: struggle, politics and writing. There were times, occasionally, when I wondered if it was possible to go on. However, Shafiq would countenance no doubt. His friends are right when they describe him as exceptionally courageous, and I would add that his courage is not simply a matter of outlook but also a way of life. Then there were those friends and schol- ars who provided more than moral support; who also supplied concrete ideas and sugges- tions. Let me here mention a number of these, in the order in which they made their respective contributions to the project. Dr Edward Said, a close friend, followed the progress of my work without once asking me the conventional question as to ‘how it was going’. His subsequent contribu- tion, though, was a special one no other person could have made. Whenever I visited the United States to attend a conference, the phone would ring where I was staying, and there would be Edward at the other end, telling me (for example) that I might find it useful to meet with the Director of the Oral History Research Office at Columbia University. And the visit would be arranged. Columbia University, in New York, was the first university anywhere in the world to establish, in 1948, a specific department for the study of oral history, and I derived great profit from my meeting, in October 1985, with Dr Ronald G. Grele.

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On one visit, Edward’s voice came over once more, energetic and firm. This time, he told me, it would be outside New York. Was I, he asked, familiar with the foundation of the Holocaust Archive at Yale University? He thought probably not, as it had been set up only recently. Could I go to Yale? He would request the necessary permit for me. And so I went to New Haven, where I spent five hours in the room of the newly established Video Archive for Holocaust Testimonies at Yale. I watched some videos. I listened to an account of the pain and suffering, narrated at first hand by a woman who had been a little girl at Auschwitz but still recalled everything that had happened to her family. I listened to others too, and learned a great deal in those few short hours. Dr Walid al-Khalidi I had met several times in the 1970s, in connection with documentary projects at the Institute for Palestine Studies. When, though, I met him at his office in Boston in the winter of 1989, I had, as I told him, no direct request to make. I simply felt that, if a book were to be published about Sabra and Shatila, he should be aware of it. Up to then I had not known Dr al-Khalidi well. From that day, though, dated an endur- ing collaboration and friendship. Whenever he came to Beirut he never failed to meet with me to discussSabra and Shatila. He would read a few pages and comment on some aspect and, time and again, I would put to him questions I had posed to myself and others; then, after a few moments’ silent reflection, he would be the one person to provide a sure and thoughtful answer – remaining, indeed, deeply reflective even when the conversation was over. He was always seeking some improvement, and our discussions are implic- itly reflected in the pages of this book. Dr Salma Khadra Jayyusi I have known since my childhood. She was one of the first people to impress us children in Jerusalem, when, before 1948, she returned from the American University in Beirut with a degree in Arabic literature. Fifty years passed between that time and my first discussion with her about the Sabra and Shatila book, when she was visiting Beirut in 1996 to supervise one of her scholarly projects.

SABRA AND SHATILA

Whether it sprang from the humane motives that make her appear to be report- ing a personal tragedy when discussing Sabra and Shatila, or from her evident boundless love for Palestine, or from her superior scholarly spirit, or perhaps from a combination of all these, one thing I know. If I were to be asked who showed the great- est general and particular interest in the book, who stood foremost in making heart- felt enquiries about its progress, I would answer: Salma. Dr Iqbal Ahmad, an international scholar, Pakistani by birth, was a close friend of my husband’s, and, from our first talk together, a friend of my own too. He saw nothing wrong in wearing the simplest of shirts (made, he would proudly point out, in Pakistan), yet his talk on the podium, shirt and all, was that of a philoso- pher prince. For all his popular and sponta- neous air, Iqbal would captivate the hearer with the calm aptness of his words. He had known of the project for some time and was waiting for me to approach him about it. When we talked together during his last visit to Beirut in 1997, the questions he asked outnumbered the suggestions he made. This was the essence of Iqbal Ahmad; the initia- tive, he implied, was with me. From then on I asked no more questions. Iqbal Ahmad, may God bless his soul, passed away the following year. Dr Khair el-Din Haseeb, Director-General of the Centre for Arab Unity Studies, I had begun to know well from the late 1970s on, when I spent a year in charge of the Centre’s Documentation Department before becom- ing a professor at the Lebanese University. One of his most significant qualities, as I soon discovered, was his ability to combine two strengths that rarely exist in the same person: minute accuracy and outstanding general efficiency. His personal example made sure deadlines were always met. Our encounters continued through the national and Islamic meetings held from the early 1990s; meetings that testified alike to his precise organizational skills and his firm principles. He was, I once told him, the only friend to enquire into small details of the project – something he had never done with

any of my other works. It was as though he had, in some strange way, been familiar with everything beforehand. He replied with his usual decisive air. This, he said, was in the nature of the Sabra and Shatila massacre. Along with a few other friends of similar calibre, Khair el-Din Haseeb remained a sure refuge in the most difficult times. Mahmoud Soueid is an old college friend, and his position as Director of the Institute for Palestine Studies meant that we met countless times to talk about this book. Its publication in Arabic, though, only became a major preoccupation at the final stage. Through all the stages Mahmoud Soueid supplied unfailing encouragement, con- cerned equally with the detail and the main subject matter. I understood now why many in Lebanon supposed him to be Pales- tinian rather than Lebanese; even his Lebanese accent, when he appeared on tele- vision, did nothing to change this, so fully was he (like other, similar people) mentally and emotionally engaged with Palestine. Indeed, he and others of his kind are Arabs rather than specifically Lebanese or Palestinian. Ma’an Bachour is a committed nationalist, always ready with courageous views and rational analysis about the contemporary Arab world; to be found at scholarly and national conventions, surrounded by people waiting to hear what he has to say. My acquaintance with him is a long one, and we have often met at such conventions. The new generation has, though, come to know him only since the early 1990s, as the founder of Al-Muntada al-Qawmi al-Arabi, whose members now number in the hundreds throughout Lebanon. There was no way a book like this could come out without long dialogues with Ma’an Bachour. I must thank him most profoundly for what he has said to me, and also for what he has not said. Counsellor Michel Eddé was the first Minister of Culture and Higher Education in Lebanon, and an insightful writer on the Arab-Israeli conflict and the history of Zion- ism. I first came to know him through my interest in his writings and through watch- ing his interviews on television. Later we

became connected in more concrete fashion through the Al-Quds Institution, founded in 2001, of which he became a Vice-President of the Board of Trustees, chaired by Shaykh Dr Yousef al-Qaradawi. I was myself a member of the Directory Board and we would attend the same sessions. It is difficult here to do justice to a man of such principle and outstanding courage, and to such a scholar, whose speech is like a surging sea. He is of the kind whose faith deepens with time, and who never retreats no matter how fierce the hardships grow. I can think of no person who has addressed me with such a depth of enthusi- asm, such acuteness of mind and such firm- ness of opinion as Michel Eddé. Such an impact did his guidance have on the project, in its final stages, that I was left wondering what the effect would have been had we met at the beginning. There were other friends I approached with the request to review specific chapters or, in some cases, the whole typescript. Any author can benefit from a second opinion, all the more so when the one providing it is endowed with special gifts: of balanced viewpoint, cultural refinement, breadth of vision or profound human insight. Each of those involved contributed, beyond all doubt, a major improvement, not merely by the particular ideas or modifications proposed, but above all through a dedicated participation without which I could hardly have continued. All I can do to the friends and prominent writers in question is to express my most heartfelt thanks. These people are, in order of my connection with them, the novelist Elias Khoury, the diplomat Bernd Erbel, the writer and scholar Mohammad Sammak and Counsellor Dr Salah Dabbagh. There are others, too, whose writings lightened the darkness of lonely nights. I cannot recall any time of my life when I did not read poetry, but at no time was it such a source of inspiration as in the years when I lived day and night with Sabra and Shatila. The poems of the great Mahmoud Darwish, so very familiar from the past, I now felt as though I was reading for the first time.

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For many long years now I have been hearing the voices of afflicted people, telling of quite horrific experiences, whether sitting there in front of me or played to me from tapes, and night after night I have read what has been written about Sabra and Shatila by writers from all parts of the world, but never in all truth have I heard or read anything more utterly compelling than the words of Mahmoud Darwish. The reader indeed may judge, for him- or herself simply from the four lines of ‘Praising the High Shadow’, which introduce Part I of this book, and the four further lines that open Part II. Finally, I should like wholeheartedly to acknowledge the efforts of a group of photographers. With some of these I was already acquainted; others I came to know through Sabra and Shatila. All showed immediate enthusiasm to take part in this book, swiftly sending me their collections of photos with the assurance that these represented a contribution on their part. For me, and for all my colleagues involved in the editing and production of the book, the most joyful moments would be when we received a package from some coun- try containing photographs. We received collections from the United States, Germany, Japan and, of course, Lebanon itself. As it happened, the first collection I saw, early in 1983, was that of the highly profes- sional American photographer Mya Shone, who was in Beirut with her husband Ralph Schoenman during the days of the massacre. They were in fact among the first to enter the site. They left Lebanon subsequently, and, when they returned a few months later, I had the opportunity to look at Mya’s precious collection of slides, which she projected on the wall of our living room. She was the first photographer I was in touch with, and also the first contributor. As for Günther Altenburg, Chargé d’Affaires at the German Embassy in Beirut, he was already a family friend, and I was well enough aware of his intellectual and human qualities, and of his thorough analysis of contemporary concerns. We talked, I recall, about Sabra and Shatila, but he did not tell me then how he had shot pictures there. He justified this later by saying he had had no

SABRA AND SHATILA

wish to add to our anguish by having us see the photos in question. Only when I told him on the telephone, 20 years after the massacre, that I was finalizing the typescript and arranging the appendix of photographs did he tell me, to my surprise, that he would like to make his contribution. A few days later, I received by mail a large package containing an amazing collection of photos, unparalleled by any I had seen in any exhi- bition or book linked to the 1982 invasion. The gift was utterly invaluable, not just because it was unexpected, but as an indica- tion that new evidence, new details and photos, would continue to emerge in years to come. As for the Japanese photographer Ryuichi Hirokawa, the first time I met him was in Bonn in the spring of 1985 while we were both attending the convention held by the International Commission of Inquiry into Israeli Crimes Against the Lebanese and Palestinian Peoples. Hirokawa then held an exhibition of his photos and talked to me of what he had observed, but I came to know him better through his famous illustrated book, issued in English under the titleBeirut 1982: From the Israeli Invasion to the Massacre of Sabra and Shatila Camps. It can have occurred to no one that Hirokawa would come in due course to Beirut, in September 2002, in the company of the Italian, Spanish, Belgian, French, German and Canadian delegation there to commemorate the twentieth anniversary of Sabra and Shatila. He sent me a collection of photos, with exemplary promptness, the moment he set foot back in Japan. The photographer ofAl-Safirnewspaper, Ali Hasan Salman, was one of those Lebanese photographers whose photos of the massacre had been published without their names appearing; consequently the search for such ‘unknowns’ was difficult. I had in fact seen Ali Salman’s quite awe-inspiring book (Beirut: Memories of the Difficult Times) when it appeared in the mid-1990s, with its scenes of the destruction of Beirut through the bloody years as portrayed through his insightful lens. What I did not know then was that he was one of those who had penetrated all obstacles to enter Sabra and Shatila.

Ramzi Haydar, another Lebanese photog- rapher, was one of the first to enter the bloody zone of Sabra and Shatila and kept dozens of highly professional photos on CD. Many of these became widely published. Ramzi Haydar later became a prominent photographer at the Agence France Presse in Beirut, and one of the first Lebanese photog- raphers to achieve world-wide recognition. In addition to all those above, let me simply say, without going into details, that a number of friends stood by me in the darkest times in a way I shall never forget. Let me, without titles or introductions, express my grateful love to the following: Mona Nsouli, Mona Sukkarieh, Jacqueline Inglessis, Elaine Hagopian, Salwa al-Hout, Adela Labban, Fatima Makhzoum, Claudia Altenburg, Grace Said, Ellen Siegel and Rihab Mukahal. Nevertheless, the man to whom I feel my thanks and appreciation should be directed first and last is the professor and historian who taught me the basics of scholarly research, leading me to seek the truth, through the mazes, without fear: and that is Dr Anis Sayigh, who, over six years or so in the 1970s, supervised my PhD thesis at the Lebanese University. It was no coincidence that the thesis should have dealt with polit- ical leaderships and institutions in Palestine during the Mandate period, and that Dr Anis Sayigh, as Director-General of the Research Centre of the Palestine Liberation Organiza- tion, should have been the supervising professor, for he is among the few who have devoted their lives to research for the Pales- tinian cause, reading, training, supervising and producing. To Dr Sayigh, my heartfelt thanks once more. His unforgettable guidelines were like lighthouses near and far, guiding me thr- ough the seas for a full six years of my life.

* * * Although both the Arabic- and English- language typescripts were completed in 2002, it was the former that first appeared (in 2003). Publishing the latter necessitated substantial sponsorship, and since the events of Sabra and Shatila had not been in the headlines for more than two decades, the ‘mission’ was anything but easy.

After several early failures, I decided to consult Shaykh Faisal Mawlawi, head of the Management Council of the Al-Quds Insti- tution and a man widely respected for his good works both inside and outside his native Lebanon. I came to know him through his highly enlightening writings and through our meetings at the Al-Quds Institution, whose members represent a vari- ety of Arab countries, several faiths and numerous political persuasions – all united by a love for Jerusalem. Shaykh Mawlawi spared me further worries when he said at the very beginning of our first talk on the subject that the book should have come out in English first, ‘so all the world could know what really happened. Our organization works for justice, too. I’ll bring up the subsi- dizing issue, and how we can help you obtain it, at our very next meeting.’ Finally it was time for the most delicate part: coming to an agreement with an English-language publisher. At this point I was lucky to have as a friend Professor Elaine Hagopian, for it was she who advised me to entrust my work to Pluto Press and put me in contact with the head of the publishing house, Dr Roger van Zwanenberg. Arriving at an agreement with someone I had never met was a completely next expe- rience for me. Roger’s informative and thoughtful e-mails paved the way for a balanced understanding, though, proving that for Pluto Press being progressive is not just a slogan but also a practised reality. I extend my deepest thanks, therefore, to Roger and to all of his colleagues. As the twentieth century neared its end, and after I had completed a few chapters, I reached an impasse. Having made the deci- sion to begin translating the typescript into English, according to a timetable for publi- cation almost parallel with the Arabic original, I realized sponsorship would be necessary. The problem was solved: I received welcome and encouragement from three principled and honourable senior figures who provided sufficient funds to cover the whole translation project. None of these, I am well aware, expects to be thanked, but the people of Sabra and Shatila would certainly wish to thank them in any

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