The Palestinian Diaspora of the Gulf

Author(s): Eric Rouleau and Jim Paul

Source: MERIP Reports, No. 132, The Future of the Gulf (May, 1985), pp. 13-15
Published by: Middle East Research and Information Project (MERIP)
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3011056 .
Accessed: 11/07/2013 11:50
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .
http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp
.
JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of
content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms
of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.
.
Middle East Research and Information Project (MERIP) is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and
extend access to MERIP Reports.
http://www.jstor.org
This content downloaded from 193.54.110.35 on Thu, 11 Jul 2013 11:50:16 AM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
and if
they
become
powerful
social forces it will not be a result of
"outside influences."
There is little
possibility
that an
economically significant
foreign
labor force could itself become
potent politically. Security
measures have been effective. The
foreign population
is diverse.
Conditions in the international labor market make it
possible
to
manipulate
the
foreign population
within
extremely
broad limits.
While
foreign
communities are
permanent,
strict control over
residence and
employment can,
if
desired,
make it difficult for
individuals and families to become entrenched.
Tight
control
over
immigration already exists,
and there are few
truly illegal
residents.15 Recent
proposals
to limit the work tenure of individ?
uals and
legally
restrict the
migration
of
dependents
would fur?
ther
strengthen government
control. The
sponsorship system
and
other controls have the effect of
safely fragmenting
the
foreign
communities. Most
expatriates
live in well-structured
insecurity.
The
political impact
of the
larger foreign presence
is more
likely
to be indirect. As Bahrainis have become more
dependent
on
foreign
labor and their
government, they
have become less
tolerant of the former and more
demanding
of the latter. A
Bahraini sentiment
among
the
people
at
large,
in contradistinc?
tion to the
ruling family,
has
emerged
in
response
to the distanc?
ing
of the elite from
society
and the arrival of more
foreigners.
In
the context of
political tensions, increasing occupational compe?
tition with
foreign
workers has led to violence and to demands for
more
discriminatory policies.
In a
country
once noted for its
tolerance,
the tone of relations between "locals" and
"expats,"
especially Asians,
is
rising
to a
xenophobic pitch.16
The
development policies
of the last decade have served the
interests of the
ruling
elite?and its
supporters
in
neighboring
countries and the West?and
undoubtedly strengthened
and
prolonged
the
regime.
At the same
time,
this sort of
dependent
development
has
substantially
added to the list of
problems
the
society
must deal with. It has
squandered
an
opportunity
to
develop
its labor
power; any
future
attempts
to do so are
likely
to
be much more difficult. The
regime
has
encouraged consumption
but has not met
long-standing
demands for
political participation
and trade union
rights.
The
government
has to a
great
extent
bought
such
legitimacy
as it now
appears
to
enjoy,
but the
underlying
disaffection has
only
been masked
by prosperity.
A cutback in
development
now
might
have more serious conse?
quences
than it would have had ten
years ago.
A
large foreign
worker
presence
seems indefinite. For
contractors, foreign
work?
ers are
cheaper
and easier to control than local workers. The
government
has its own interest in a weak local labor
force,
economically dependent
on the
state,
less able and less
likely
to
organize
and
pressure
the
government
for economic reforms. The
problem
of the
permanent incorporation
of
foreign communities,
by
one means or
another,
has not even been formulated. The
benefits and
privileges
which Bahraini
nationality
confers have
become ever more
jealously guarded.
Given
regional politics
and
the world oil
market,
decisions to continue
diverting
wealth to the
elites on the one
hand,
or to maintain services and distributions
of wealth at current or
greater
levels on the
other,
will become
both more difficult and more
important. Denying
either constitu?
ency
could have drastic
political consequences.
Bahrain's devel?
opment policies
of the last decade
represent
its
entry
into a new
game,
one similar to that
being played by
its
neighbors,
Kuwait in
particular.
While the stakes have become
higher,
Bahrain's stack
of
chips
has dwindled.
See
Franklin, page
32
Hie
Palestinian
Diaspora
of the Gulf
Eric Rouleau
The
Palestinian communities
spread along
the Arab
coast of the Gulf are
unique
within the Palestinian
diaspora.
Whether in Saudi
Arabia, Kuwait, Qatar,
the United Arab Emirates
(UAE)
or
Bahrain,
there are few if
any
working
class Palestinians and
practically
none of the
impover?
ished
refugees
that fill the
camps
in
Lebanon, Syria
or Jordan.
The Gulf states did not take in
refugees; rather, they
received
immigrants
who came in search of a better life.
At the
beginning
of the
1950s,
as oil
production began
to
grow
rapidly,
the Gulf shaikhs
sought
technical and administrative
personnel
with the skills to build their emirates in the era of
independence.
In
spite
of
high salaries,
there were few candidates
from most Arab countries.
Only
the Palestinians were
ready
to
come, suffering
as
they
were in the West
Bank,
Lebanon and
Syria. They
met all the
requirements: they
were
Arab, educated,
often
English-speaking (a big advantage
in former British colo?
nies),
and not too
demanding.
The first wave of
migration began
two or three
years
after the
1948 war. It was
mostly
made
up
of
single
men who left their
families on the West
Bank, Gaza,
Lebanon or
Syria.
The second
and
largest
wave followed the 1967 war. This
time,
there were also
families of those who had
already come,
those who had intended
to
go
home to Gaza or the West Bank but who were now unable to
return.
Finally,
the civil war in Lebanon set off a third
migration
after 1975.
Palestinians with the
necessary
intellectual or material re?
sources to
migrate
to the Gulf
sought
to rebuild their lives for the
second or third time. Those who had the means took the
plane
to
Editor's note: A longer
version of this article
appeared
as a three-part series in Le Monde, June
15-17, 1982. It
appears
here by permission
of the author. Since the article was written, the
economic cutbacks in the Gulf have reduced jobs
available to the Palestinians and also affected the
Palestinian bourgeoisie.
Remittances to Palestinian institutions (including
the PLO) are now less
than they
were. The crisis in the PLO since the Lebanon War has also deprived
the Palestinian
community
of its main interlocutor and defender with the Gulf regimes.
In
spite
of these changes,
the Palestinians remain an important
and influential community in the Gulf and in the
Palestinian diaspora,
as Eric Rouleau makes clear.
Merip Reports
?
Moy
1985
13
This content downloaded from 193.54.110.35 on Thu, 11 Jul 2013 11:50:16 AM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Abu
Dhabi, Dubai,
Saudi
Arabia,
or
Qatar. They rarely
went to
Oman or
Bahrain,
which were distrustful of Palestinians from the
very beginning. Migrants
with the least
money
took the overland
route to
Kuwait,
where
they
were better received than
anywhere
else,
due to the
open-mindedness
of Kuwait's
ruling family.
"They
are
every
where"
The Palestinian
community
in Kuwait has
grown nearly ten-fold,
from
37,000
in 1961 to
300,000 by 1981,
or
possibly 350,000
if
illegal immigrants
are included.
Altogether,
more than
600,000
Palestinians live in the Arab states of the Gulf. This is a
quarter
of the
diaspora,
more Palestinians than in Lebanon and
Syria put
together.
The
weight
of this
community
is much
greater
than its num?
bers
might suggest,
for its members
occupy important positions
in these new states whose local elites are still in formation. First
and most
importantly,
Palestinians staff the state administra?
tions.
By
1975
(the
most recent reliable data),
one out of two
Palestinians in the UAE and Kuwait was a civil servant. In
Kuwait
by 1982,
it was estimated that one out of four
employees
in the
public
sector and one out of three teachers was Palestinian.
With
proportionately very high representation among
the
teachers and
professors,
Palestinians are also
preponderant
in the
ranks of the
judiciary; particularly
in the UAE
they
are a
majority
among
both
deputy public prosecutors
and
judges. They
are also
numerous
among journalists (both print
and electronic media),
doctors, engineers, architects,
and
top management
of oil
compa?
nies and
private
businesses.
According
to a 1975
study,
one in four
Palestinians
working
in Kuwait had a
high-level professional
or
technical-scientific
job.
The Palestinian
upper bourgeoisie
is much more
strongly
represented
here than in other Arab
countries,
where modest
resources, relatively
austere "socialist"
regimes
or both are obsta?
cles to the
development
of
private capital.
Are there 100 or 300
Palestinian millionaires in the Gulf? Estimates
vary,
but there is
no doubt that most electronics
companies belong
to
them,
and
that
they
include
merchants, entrepreneurs,
bankers and world-
class wheeler-dealers.
"They
are
everywhere
... like the Jews." This is what the Gulf
natives and the other
expatriates say
of the
Palestinians,
and it's
hard to tell at first whether or not
they
are
being
malicious. Some
are,
in
fact,
admirers who
practice
an unconscious reverse "rac?
ism."
They generalize
the
supposed
characteristics of Palestin?
ians:
intelligent, resourceful, effective,
and imbued with an un?
common work ethic. Unfavorable
prejudices
lead others to
depict
the Palestinians as a closed
community: greedy, intriguing, pride?
ful,
insolent
and?according
to the traditionalists?inclined to
Western
corruption
and
turpitude.
Neither demons nor
angels,
the Palestinians of the
diaspora
are
a
minority
that lives with real or
imagined insecurity
and acts
accordingly.
To make oneself
indispensable
is a means of self-
defense,
said Ghassan
Thaboub,
a
journalist
in
Sharjah, adding:
"Without a
country
of our
own,
we
cling
to the host
country
like a
life
preserver, giving
it the best of ourselves."
"Education is like a
religion,
an
obsession," repeated
several
people
to a
visiting journalist,
who was astonished to find such a
high
level of
literacy?the highest
in the Arab world. Another
"obsession" is
group solidarity.
Adnan Derbas,
for
example,
comes from a
poor family
that lived in the
Burj al-Barajnah
refugee camp
in Beirut. From his
youth
he worked at all kinds of
jobs
to
pay
for the education of his seven brothers and sisters. He
himself became a civil
engineer
and is
today
the head of one of the
biggest public
works construction
companies
in Abu Dhabi.
'Abd ul-Muhsen
Kattan,
a
fabulously
rich banker in
Kuwait,
is
financing
the construction of cultural centers at Bir Zeit and an-
Najah
universities on the West
Bank,
and he offers a
scholarship
to
any
Palestinian "whose level of
study gets
them
accepted
at the
most
prestigious
universities in the world." About 60
young
people
who
qualify
are now
pursuing higher
education at his
expense
in the United
States, Britain, Italy, Yugoslavia,
India
and,
of
course,
in various Arab countries. As Kattan
explains:
"My
father didn't
bequeath
me
anything except
a
university
degree.
As he said at the time of his
death,
it is the most
precious
thing you
can
have,
because
you
can
bring
it wherever the
viscissitudes of exile take
you."
At the
beginning
of "exile" in
1948,
the Palestinians numbered
only
300-400
university graduates.
There are now an estimated
130,000 graduates, proportionately
more than those of Israel or
Britain and five times
higher
than the
average
of the Arab world
as a whole.
"Go Back"
Whether
they
are admired or
envied, diaspora
Palestinians are
disconcerting
to other Arabs. In the
Gulf,
as
elsewhere, govern?
ments
try
to restrict the Palestinian
presence
and influence,
looking
forward to the time when
they
will
"go
back where
they
came from."
"They
are
anti-Palestinian; they
hate us; they
have
given
our
neighborhood
the nickname Tal
al-Zaatar;
sooner or later
they
will massacre us all." This
young
woman teacher in Kuwait
gives
free rein to her
anguish
at the "hate" which she claims the native
Kuwaitis feel toward her and her
people. Minority paranoia?
Perhaps,
but she is
quite exceptional.
A
journalist making
the
rounds of the Gulf states most often hears
praise
for the host
countries, apparently quite
sincere
praise,
for the benefits of
hospitality
are evident and
appreciated by
these
people
without a
country.
But this doesn't
prevent
Palestinians from
complaining
bitterly
about their lot. Their ambivalence
grows
out of a dis?
criminatory system
that
applies equally
to all
foreigners
and is
not
necessarily
directed
against
them.
Citizenship
in the Gulf is a source of
precious advantages
and
privileges,
but it is
only rarely given out,
and then
only
to those
who have fulfilled
very
strict conditions. In
Kuwait,
for
example,
a candidate for naturalization as a "first class citizen" must be
able to
prove
that his
family
lived in the
country
before 1920 and
at least until
1959?clearly
not criteria that can be met
by
a
Palestinian
immigrant.
The overall result is that less than 400
Palestinians (250
in
Kuwait)
out of
600,000
have obtained citi?
zenship
in Gulf countries.
There are
many disadvantages
to not
being
a citizen. The
highest
and
best-paid
civil service
posts
are closed. Free loans and
housing
subsidies are not available. Real estate cannot be owned.
And without a citizen as an
"associate,"
it is
impossible
to start a
business,
to own a commercial or industrial
company,
or to
speculate
on the stock market. In most cases,
the law
requires
that the citizen be a
majority
owner of the
enterprise,
and such
participation
is
usually
obtained with no investment or effort.
"It's the
highest
tax in the
world,"
a Palestinian industrialist said
14
Merip Reports
?
Moy
1985
This content downloaded from 193.54.110.35 on Thu, 11 Jul 2013 11:50:16 AM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
bitterly.
He then revealed that his associate had
given
him the
equivalent
of $300
in 1966 and is
today
worth $80 million,
without ever
having
set foot on the
premises.
Certain
governments
in the Gulf would
apparently
like to
push
the Palestinians to seek other havens.
Though
Palestinians have
traditionally
been numerous in the ranks of the teachers,
their
presence
has been
progressively
reduced in recent
years?in
absolute terms in Bahrain and in relative terms in the other
countries?in favor of
Egyptians,
whose
ideological perspectives
are more
reassuring
to the shaikhs. In the civil
service, generally
speaking, preference
is
given
to
Asians,
who are
politically
in?
offensive and less
demanding,
or to Arabs from various countries
who can be sent home at the
slightest
indiscretion.
The Palestinians have a sense of
living
in
very temporary
circumstances.
Employees
of the
public
or
private
sector who
reach retirement
age
are
required
to leave the
country, along
with
members of their
family,
no matter how
long
their
period
of
service. The law holds that travel visas and work visas are
identical.
Although
it
applies equally
to all
foreigners,
its conse?
quences
are most serious for
Palestinians,
who
generally
have no
place
to
go. They
can't
go
back to their native
country,
now Israel
or the
occupied
territories. If
they
have no
passport, virtually
no
country
in the Arab world will receive them or even
give
them a
transit
visa,
for fear
they
will settle down
permanently.
If
they
have a
passport, they
have no other choice than to
go
to their
adopted country,
to which
they usually
have no attachment other
than their official travel document.
"We feel
foreign everywhere," say
the Gulf Palestinians.
"They
are
un-assimilable," say
the Gulf natives. "We dont want to
assimilate," reply
the
former,
"for Palestinians we are and Pal?
estinians we will remain." There are two nationalisms here: one
exacerbated
by statelessness,
the other still
developing among
the
peoples
of the Gulf. Both re-enforce the Palestinians' wish to
have a state where
they
can
finally
be masters in their own house.
"Next
year
in Jerusalem"
The influence of the Gulf
diaspora
is
nothing magical.
"It's no
more
mysterious
than the influence of the Zionists in the United
States
or,
more
broadly,
in the
West," people say.
The "sensibil?
ity"
of the shaikhs who
govern
the
region
has not
only
been
determined
by
the fact that
they
are Arab or Muslim. It was also
formed in their
youth by
Palestinian tutors
and, later, by
counsel?
ors, top administrators,
and
big
businessmen who became their
friends and who did not
disguise
their
sympathies
for the PLO.
Along
with the
younger generation
of native
intellectuals,
the
rulers have not
escaped
the nationalist
ideology
exuded
by
the
mass
media,
which
everyone agrees
is "dominated"
by
numerous
and talented Palestinian
journalists.
But
nonetheless,
the shaikhs
remain
vigilant.
The
kingdoms
and
principalities
of the Gulf are microcosms of
the Arab
world,
as sensitive as a
seismograph
to tremors in
any
country
of the
region.
The Palestine
problem generates agitation,
revolutions,
and wars which threaten to shake these
fragile
and
vulnerable
regimes
to their
very
foundations. There is no doubt
that the Gulf
regimes ardently hope
for a
peaceful
resolution of
the
problem, preferably negotiated
with the
PLO,
the
only
force
capable
of
making
a
lasting peace.
But while
supporting
the
PLO,
they
hesitate to do
anything
that would
put
in
question
their
prosperity
and their
stability. Here,
even more than
elsewhere,
the interest of the state takes
precedence
over the sentiments of
those in
power.
The latter therefore take
preventive
or
repressive
measures to deal with the "Palestinian
peril,"
even
though
it is far
more
potential
than real.
This
duality
of the rulers
provokes
an ambivalence
among
the
Palestinians towards their host countries:
gratitude
for the
hospi?
tality
but also a solid mistrust towards "the Arabs" whose "verbal
solidarity"
is seen most often as a snare and a delusion. In a time
of crisis like that of the invasion of
Lebanon,
this bitterness
becomes
outright indignation
in the face of the
"passivity"
of the
Arab
regimes.
The
political
climate has
changed considerably among
the Gulf
Palestinians. "Maximalists" in the
past, they discretely
but
firmly opposed
the 1974
plan
of the PLO
leadership
to
accept
a
state in the West Bank and Gaza. Now even those who led the
opposition
accede that a
"mini-state,"
even an "emasculated"
one,
is
preferable
to
prolonged
exile.
Drawing
lessons from the
experiences
of recent
years
and
weighing
the international bal?
ance of
forces, many?especially
those over
50?despair
of
seeing
a
compromise
reached in their lifetime. But none doubts
that,
in
the
longer term,
"the racist Israeli
entity"
will
give way
to a
"reunified
Palestine,"
binational or
not, depending
on whether
the state is founded
peacefully
or
by
violence.
If we can
push
the
parallel
further than usual,
it
might
be said
that the Palestinians of the
diaspora
are no less "Zionist" than
the Jews who for
many long
centuries never failed to
repeat
in
their ritual
prayers
"Kachana haba ba
Yerushalayim"
"Next
year
in Jerusalem."
?Translated
by
Jim Paul
Merip Reports
?
May
1985
15
This content downloaded from 193.54.110.35 on Thu, 11 Jul 2013 11:50:16 AM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions