Refugee camps and the permanency of temporary refuge

Man lived in the wilderness for thousands of years.

In ancient times, people sought refuge in caves before mastering the art of building homes. According to archaeological studies, humans erected tents during the modern Stone Age as part of their evolutionary trajectory, utilising them as mobile shelters. Tents became common in deserts and rugged terrains, offering protection from the elements and predators.

This lifestyle persists in certain pockets of the world, particularly among pastoral nomadic tribes. It endures in some regions of Syria and the Levant, necessitated by these communities' lifestyles and social structures dictated by their economic activities. Though some of these tribal communities may have homes in nearby urban areas, tents are still integral to their way of life.

Safe havens

Since the Nakba, Palestinians have been navigating the turbulent seas of war and the agony of displacement. In this relentless dance with conflict, camps became makeshift homes for Palestinians uprooted by the relentless waves of aggression and the ebb and flow of the Arab-Israeli conflict.

From the ongoing battles in Gaza to the plight of Syrians trying to escape the relentless violence imposed by their own government and its allies, the tent has become a symbolic haven for populations fleeing combat zones.

Amidst the chaos of a multifaceted war, what many Syrians now call home are mosaics of tents varying in form, some provided by humanitarian organisations or governments, others handcrafted from available fabrics and remnants.

Originally conceived as temporary shelters, these tented communities have endured over a dozen years, their transient existence overshadowed by the uncertainty of their residents' return to structured urban living, complete with infrastructure and government support.

Homes nurture dreams

Let us consider the narrative of homes — a story that began with the primal need for protection and safety, evolving into embodiments of comfort and cultural identity.

Beyond architectural structures and the physicality of shelter, homes mirror the soul of communities and encapsulate the values that bind them. A home signifies a haven where families thrive, dreams are nurtured, and futures are envisioned. It is a living testament to the interplay of culture and human values, each home a unique chapter in the collective story of humanity.

While international norms recognise homeownership as a fundamental human right, the harsh truth unfolds in the realms of impoverished nations or those governed by apathetic regimes, where citizens often find their rights disregarded. In conflict zones, the concept of home takes on a poignant resonance.

Just like the enduring tumult in Syria, the current conflict in Gaza, symbolic of a larger Palestinian struggle, illustrates how homes, in these contexts, transcend their material existence. They become symbols of endurance, resilience, and the indomitable human spirit, challenging the notion of home as a mere physical structure.

Read more: How Palestinian refugee camps became a gathering place for dreamers

What does it truly mean for a person to have a tent as their singular choice of dwelling? To have their temporary abode transform into a perpetual haven?

To be at the mercy of storms, winds, rains, floods, and winter snows that uproot their tent and drench their worn-out bedding? To endure scorching heat, relentless flies, mosquitoes, and insects during summer?

This is a life where the bare minimum of infrastructure and facilities is absent, where water channels between tents and makeshift shelters become playgrounds for barefooted children.

Where there are no schools, nor even rudimentary learning spaces like the madrasas that existed before the establishment of formal education systems, devoid of the necessary tools for educational processes?

If human evolution has traversed diverse facets of life since the ancient Stone Age, spanning over three million years, progressing from cave dwelling to settling near water sources and advancing agricultural practices, leading to the evolution from tents to huts and eventually to environmentally sourced houses – how, in this day and age, do we find humans residing in camps?

What rationale allows for the regression of certain groups and their forcible return to tents after thousands of years of human progress and the development of sophisticated urban dwellings worldwide?

Amid Israel's brutal assault on Gaza today, the stark reality unfolds as tents rise to welcome hundreds of thousands fleeing the horrors of death and displacement.

Once a symbol of nomadic existence, the tent has paradoxically become a fate for Palestinians. The neighbourhoods where they establish their makeshift abodes, whether in Palestine or neighbouring Arab countries like Lebanon, Syria, and Jordan, are labelled as "camps".

This nomenclature implies a temporariness, but one that has persisted for 75 years since the establishment of Israel and the initial waves of displacement.

These camps bear witness to the accumulation of haphazard structures, makeshift alleyways, rudimentary infrastructure, overcrowding, and the primitive aspects of life within, encapsulating the temporariness amidst dreams of return.

As the first generation fades away, passing on their memories to subsequent generations, the camps remain tangible reminders of the ongoing struggle, refusing to let the cause be forgotten and the rights buried in the sands of time.

Since it launched its aggression on Gaza on 7 October, Israeli authorities evacuated its citizens in areas surrounding the Gaza Strip and others in the north near the Lebanese border, where gunfire is exchanged within "conflict zones". Israeli citizens in these areas were relocated from their cities and villages because their government values and feels responsible for them.

The logistics of securing suitable accommodations for these evacuated Israelis are even more striking, as many were taken to hotels and guesthouses that offer the comforts of modern life.

However, as the number of evacuees increases, the availability of equipped spaces may be uncertain. The issue of providing "suitable" housing for the displaced may pose a challenge, possibly leading to the temporary solution of tents.

Yet, for many Israelis, the prospect of living in tents was met with astonishment. Even if these tents were of high quality, modern design, and efficient functionality – a thriving industry in our current era – the concept of tent living remains an unconventional and uncomfortable idea for many.

Even in issues that should supposedly awaken humanity within people of all backgrounds, social inequality and humanitarian disparity are glaring.

While Israelis shun the prospect of tent living, Syrian refugees in northern Syria and nearby refugee areas have been living for over a decade in makeshift tents.

They often craft these tents themselves since the tents provided by humanitarian organisations often fall short in terms of sustainability, climate resilience, and capacity and cannot accommodate the increasing numbers of shelter seekers arising from the ongoing conflict.

Palestinian camps

As the world watches the horrors unfold in Gaza, one cannot help but wonder about the recurrence of camp names in Palestine, whether in the Gaza Strip or the West Bank. Even in Gaza, a large chunk of the residents are refugees from areas occupied by Israel between 1948 and 1967. 

The Gaza Strip alone is home to eight refugee camps: Jabalia, Al-Shati, Nuseirat, Deir Al-Balah, Maghazi, Bureij, Khan Yunis, and Rafah – names we nowadays hear every day in news bulletins.

The West Bank, where Israeli forces keep encroaching upon the land through ongoing settlement construction, is home to 24 camps, many of which are being targeted in parallel with the assault on Gaza. 

While these camps have evolved into residential clusters with constructed houses, they are on the brink of becoming pockets of destitution, isolated from modernity. Despite this, Israel relentlessly pursues them as part of its plan to erase Palestinian identity.

These neighbourhoods persist under the label of "camps", yet the world remains indifferent to their massive presence in a country enduring continuous aggression.

They narrate a history of oppression, aggression, occupation, and displacement, yet the Israeli narrative keeps embedding itself in global consciousness and positioning its rights as the paramount cause to defend.

The tent has become a haunting symbol in the collective consciousness of oppressed populations with uncertain futures.

The camps have evolved into a symbol of fear, their temporariness slowly morphing into a perpetual struggle, an extended chain of transformations that deprives these communities of a chance for a dignified life and hinders the investment in the potentials of their sons and daughters.

An elderly Gazan lamented, his voice choked with emotion: "I spent 40 years working until I managed to secure a home, only for a missile to bring it down to dust." What injustice turns the eyes of the world away from such horrors?