The death of Israa Ghrayeb has ignited furious reactions regarding the so-called “honour-killings” in Palestine and throughout the Arab world.
It also wrought confusion with respect to the jurisprudential foundation of such crimes, which are often committed in the name of protecting the honour of the family.
Israa, a 21-year-old makeup artist from the town of Beit Sahour in the West Bank, was reportedly beaten to death by her own brother for “dishonouring” the family. The tragic episode was ignited by a video posted on social media, where Israa was seen spending time with her soon-to-be fiancé.
While Palestinians and other Arab communities are genuinely angry regarding the violent mistreatment of women, others have found another platform to indict Islam and condemn Arab society. Predictably, the issue quickly and conveniently branched into the realms of politics, ideology and religion.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Lenient laws regarding “honour killing” in the Middle East, and other parts of the world, do not originate from Islamic Sharia law, but from the so-called Napoleonic code of 1810, which largely tolerated “crimes of passion”. In countries like France and Italy, laws concerning “honour killing” were not abrogated until 1975 and 1981, respectively.
The exploitation of weaknesses in Arab and Muslim societies is an old and thriving business. Anti-Arab and anti-Muslim rhetoric has always been at the forefront of every military and political campaign by the West, from the early colonial era to the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya. For many years, elaborate discourses have aimed at justifying war and rationalising intervention to distract from the real motives of economic exploitation and violence.
“Mothers and daughters of Afghanistan were captives in their own homes,” said former US President George W. Bush in January 2002, celebrating his country’s supposed “victory” in Afghanistan. “Today, [Afghani] women are free”.
Bush made that preposterous claim only weeks after his wife, Laura, supposedly the defender of women worldwide, declared in November 2001 that “the fight against terrorism is also a fight for the rights and dignity of women”.
The fact that hundreds of thousands of girls and women were killed and millions of others were widowed or orphaned in America’s protracted “war on terror” does not seem to impede the fallacious logic in any way. The sad, but predictable, truth is that the rights and wellbeing of Afghani, Arab and Muslim women have sharply deteriorated as a result of US-western military interventions.
But this is the crux of the problem. As intellectuals, educators and human rights activists, we often find ourselves trapped in a restricting paradigm. Aware of the real motives of western media and official propaganda, we engage in a battle of self-defence, desperately trying to shield our religions, countries and societies from ill-intentioned criticism. In the process of doing so, however, we often neglect to speak out on behalf of the disadvantaged and vulnerable groups, the likes of Israa Ghrayeb and millions like her.
We neglect our responsibility to stand up for the marginalised sectors of our society because we are afraid to be misunderstood, and for our words to be misinterpreted and misused by the rising far-right propagandists from the US to France, and from India to Brazil.
But this is hardly fair to Israa and millions of other women. Palestinian and Arab women are suffering from dual injustices that men do not experience. They are victims of war, political instability and economic marginalisation, but are also victims of patriarchal societies and outdated laws.
It is infuriating and inexcusable, for example, that Palestinian women in the West Bank and Gaza are coping with multi-layered forms of violence, emanating both from the Israeli occupation and from their own family and society; the former justifying its violence in the name of “security” and the latter in the name of ‘honour’ and tradition.
But where is the honour in the fact that nearly 30 per cent of all married women in the West Bank and 50 per cent in Gaza “have been subjected to a form of violence within the household”? According to the United Nations group, UN Women, the majority of these women prefer to remain silent in the face of these abuses, most likely to protect their families and avoid further abuse.
Palestinian and Arab women, and many men, are not just angry over “honour killings” and the tolerant laws that make it possible for criminals to get away with their brutal deeds; they are also angry because the practice merely symbolises a much wider phenomenon, where women are marginalised and victimised as a matter of course in all societal aspects.
Twenty one Palestinian women and girls have been killed in so-called honour killings in 2018, reports Amnesty International. This requires immediate attention and a complete overhaul of Palestinian laws that allow criminals to walk free after serving reduced prison sentences. But the fight should not end there. Palestinian women are more educated than men, yet enjoy far less work opportunities. Despite their crucial role in the resistance against Israeli occupation and apartheid, they are marginalised in politics and decision-making.
Those who killed Israa and hundreds of women like her in the name of “honour” should know that the agonising screams of their sisters and daughters are no different from the cries of pain of Razan Al Najjar, after she was shot and killed by Israeli snipers at Gaza’s March of Return; that the same pain endured by these women is the pain being felt every hour of every day by Israa Jaabis and her sisters in Israeli prisons; that the abuse of women at the hands of their families is the same abuse they experience at Israeli military checkpoints and by unhinged Israeli Jewish settlers.
“Justice is indivisible”, and it is time that we break our silence and respect this noble maxim. Speaking out against violence, discrimination and marginalisation of women in our societies should be part and parcel of any genuine struggle against human rights abuses, regardless of the identity and motive of the abuser.
Let the screams for help and pleas for mercy of Israa Ghrayeb be our guide as we fight against injustice in all of its forms and manifestations.
Ramzy Baroud is a journalist, author and editor of The Palestine Chronicle. His last book is “The Last Earth: A Palestinian Story” (Pluto Press, London) and his forthcoming book is “These Chains Will Be Broken: Palestinian Stories of Struggle and Defiance in Israeli Prisons” (Clarity Press, Atlanta)
This article has been adapted from its original source.
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