How have the Palestinian people of Gaza kept their sanity amid the terrifying horrors of Israel’s genocidal campaign?
Few have explored this question as deeply as Brian K. Barber, whose new book — No Way But Forward — goes a long way to explain the moral foundations and social norms that underlie the inner strength of Gazans and Palestinians in general. In Part One, the book relates the life stories of three families, as recounted to the author by three fathers whom he came to know intimately during almost 30 years of groundbreaking sociological fieldwork in Gaza. Part Two of the book presents lightly edited and annotated WhatsApp text and voice messages between Barber and the three fathers between Oct. 7, 2023, and the same date a year later. The messages allow us to see what lies beneath these families’ indomitable sanity — and that of their neighbors – in the face of Israel’s violence and the world’s indifference.
Erased and overlooked for decades, Barber’s storytellers are surely as important to understand as their persecutors, whose motives and concerns tend to get much more attention in the Western press. Apart from serving as an antidote to Israel’s malicious slandering of Palestinians, the book is filled with great stories. Take the day in May 1989, when 16-year-old Hussam’s father asks to speak with him alone, “man-to-man.” Readers have just followed the boy on yet another heart-stopping escape from a pursuing squad of Israeli soldiers tasked with crushing the bodies and courage of the fearless, teenage “children of the stones” who drove the First Intifada (1987-93).
His dad, Fares, doesn’t forbid his son’s activism. Indeed, he praises him for it. But he warns that continued acts of resistance will inevitably lead to arrest and torture under interrogation, something Fares experienced during several imprisonments. When that happens, he says, Hussam will have grave responsibilities to uphold the honor of the family and not implicate others. On pain of being cast out forever from the family home, Hussam is forbidden from giving the Israelis any information. Nor can he confess any of his own actions. Finally, he must remember that eventually, the torture will stop. Not long afterward, Hussam is indeed detained. While undergoing torture, his father’s commands echo in his mind: “Confess to nothing! Give no one away!”
These remembered instructions help him hold out. “I did it. I did my duty. … I beat them!” he realizes.
Barber asked Hussam and the two other fathers to tell about experiences they considered central to making them who they became. All three were born in the early 1970s, and all recall particular scenes of Israeli violence and bullying. Such assaults were common before 2005, when Israel pulled its troops and settlers out of Gaza, especially during the First and Second Intifada. Anyone at all familiar with the Palestinian situation must be aware of such incidents. What’s striking in Barber’s book is that readers hear these stories told by men with whom they have already become familiar, almost as though reading a novel. They are stories told from the inside and in the context of each man’s struggle to understand life and discover his path. Likewise, we learn about their experiences in school, in love, in career choices, building a family, relating to religion – and eventually, in physically and emotionally surviving a genocide.
Hammam’s life story features a dramatic rise from school failures caused by his prioritizing his social life and having a casual attitude about studying for crucial exams in the stern, highly competitive Gaza school system. He tells of an “earthquake of terror” and shame he finally overcomes with a drastic resolve to get a job to pay to repeat his schooling, to do the work and schoolwork diligently, and to always tell the truth. The whole business is observed with concern and great interest, not just by his parents, but also by many others, marking the boy’s life with a degree of public importance. Hammam’s story exemplifies one of the three things Barber tells us are seen as necessary to “become a good person,” male or female: “maximize education, maintain and build family, and oppose the occupation in individualized ways.”
Eventually, Hammam, the former goof-off, gains respect and self-respect, so much so that he is invited to assist his father, Fuad, in the honored work of mukhtar or head of their 3,000-member family (part of the large Barbach clan). Readers get to follow Hammam learning through practice the subtle arts of serving as “conflict manager-in-chief,” which is how Barber describes the role of mukhtars in Gaza. “It is a system of trust, honor, and respect for authority,” he writes, and we glimpse how well it tends to work.
The story of the third father, Khalil, shows that despite – and doubtless because of – the massive impact of Israel’s persecutions, Gaza’s close families remain decisive in forming children’s character and values. He tells how nothing ever struck him as deeply as the stories his mother, Tamam, would often tell him and his five older siblings. She gave the impression of being highly educated, maybe a teacher, but was, in fact, illiterate and grew up extremely poor. Her stories told of real people she knew and were “lessons for the soul,” which emphasized the importance of prayer and the imperatives of standing against injustice and always caring for the poor.
“Khalil’s sole purpose in life,” Barber writes. “Was to do and to learn exactly what his mother asked.” To that end he eventually became an internationally respected advocate of human rights, first tested and tempered by the Intifada, married a woman who shared his passion, raised a family – and pleased his mom no end.
The book closes with a conversation Barber had years ago with a good friend in Gaza. When he mentioned that Americans often ask him “how Gazans keep going through all the brutal setbacks,” his friend, Ashraf, “looked perplexed, even a bit bothered. ‘What other choice do we have? Wouldn’t they do the same?’”
Getting justice for the Palestinians will require their humanization in Western minds long conditioned to fear and despise Israel’s victims. No Way But Forward demonstrates the power of Palestinians in Gaza’s personal narratives to engage our empathy, understanding, and solidarity. Brian Barber has brought these stories to us very effectively. They are lessons for the soul that should open many eyes and hearts.
