Uncommon Sense
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Uncommon Sense
Reconstruction, with Ahmed Kamal Junina
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What does "Reconstruction" mean in Gaza? What role does education play, amid scholasticide and devastation? And how can we learn from "Sumud" as a counter to the oft-troubled trope of "resilience"?
Ahmed Kamal Junina joins us for this urgent conversation on what the "reparative" reconstruction of Higher Education in Gaza could look like - casting a critical eye on terms like "development" and "post war" amid ongoing violence and erasure. Places of education, shows Ahmed, are more than bricks and mortar; they are sites of storytelling and home; generators of futures, community and continuity. He also presents the Palestinian concept of "Sumud" - a kind of steadfastness - as a more radical and place-based notion than its more problematic counterpart, "resilience". And he shares what it’s like for educators in Gaza, including his own practice of "the pedagogy of hope and survival".
Also: we hear from Ahmed’s colleagues from the ‘Reconstructing Home’ project, which links scholars at UCL with those in and from Palestine. Nihad Al-Sheikh Khalil introduces his work on "the efforts of Gazan families" - how the home is reconstructed amid destruction and displacement. Meanwhile, Abdrabou Al-Anzi describes his project on how spatial erasure, displacement and destruction impact individual and collective memories of "home/land".
Guest: Prof Ahmed Kamal Junina; Contributors: Dr Nihad Al-Sheikh Khalil, Dr. Abdrabou Al-Anzi; Translation assistance: Saba Abd Elkarim; Hosts: Rosie Hancock, Alexis Hieu Truong; Executive Producer: Alice Bloch; Sound Engineer: David Crackles: Music: Joe Gardne; Artwork: Erin Aniker
Find out more about Uncommon Sense
Episode Resources
- From Rubble to Campus, part of the Reconstructing Home project uniting co-investigators in Gaza with a UCL-based team
- Displaced but not replaced: challenges, adaptations, and resilience of higher education in Gaza in the context of war and scholasticide
- Remote higher education partnerships in crisis: reflections and practical insights from the Gaza education research virtual fellowship
- Back to school in Gaza is now education reduced to fragments
From the Sociological Review Foundation
- Statement of solidarity with the people of Palestine
- 'Why are the soldiers hurting Palestinian children?’: Parenthood, identity and culture during genocide
Further resources
- The Emergency Committee of Universities in Gaza, discussed further by Al Jazeera
- Statistics and reports from UNRWA, UNESCO, UNOCHA, as cited in the episode
- In Gaza, the schools are dying too: for more on the term "scholasticide"
- The work of Karma Nabulsi
- The Rise of Resilience in Education in Emergencies
- Social ecology of resilience and Sumud of Palestinians
- Resilient Voices: a youth-led digital storytelling initiative empowering young Palestinians to share their lived experiences, heritage, and unbreakable spirit through the power of words, sound, and visuals
- Development as Erasure: Palestine, Genocide and ‘Reconstruction’
- Sard: Stories of Adversity, Resilience and Determination
- Academic freedom: report of the Special Rapporteur on the Right to Education, Farida Shaheed
- New report documents scholasticide in Gaza – and the collective resilience sustaining Palestinian higher education
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Hi, welcome to Uncommon Sense. We're going to
start today with a question:What does home mean for you? Is home the place that you sleep, or is it something a little bit more, like your neighbourhood or particular places that you love, relationships with special people, or even institutions. What would it mean if you had to reconstruct home? What costs, what stakes, and what interests might be at play? Would bricks and mortar be enough to make things as they once were, or would it also be about other things, perhaps memories, stories, and social life as well, including education? Hold that thought for just a moment.
Alexis Hieu Truong:We are the show that takes a sideways sociological view on daily every day, brought to you by the Sociological Review Foundation. I'm Alexis Hut in Gatineau, Canada, and I'm with Rosie Hancock in Leipzig, Germany. Today, we're talking about reconstruction,
Rosie Hancock:and we're doing that in the context of thinking about Gaza, where at the time of recording this in early July 2026, the UN reports, citing data from Gaza's Health Ministry, that between the seven th of October 2023 and the 29th of June 2026, more than 73,000 Palestinians, many of them children, have been killed in Gaza, and more than 173,000 injured. In May 2024, the Sociological Review Foundation issued a statement of solidarity with the people of Palestine, describing how Israeli state violence against Gaza, backed by many Western governments, has produced, among other forms of violent destruction, and I'm going to quote here: epistemocide and scholasticide, the killing of many 1000s of scholars, students, journalists, and other knowledge producers, and the destruction of schools, universities, and cultural institutions. End quote. Today, it's the destruction and reconstruction of education that we're going to focus on.
Alexis Hieu Truong:And this episode is prompted by an interdisciplinary project that explores how home in Gaza is understood, sustained, reconfigured, and reconstructed in different domains and scales in the context of genocide, it involves scholars in and outside of Palestine, based at University College London and in Gaza, and one of them is our guest today, Dr. Ahmed Kamal Junina from Al-Aqsa University, whose project within that larger endeavour is called "From Ruble
the Campus:A Roadmap for the Reparative Reconstruction of Higher Education in Gaza, 2026 2036.
Rosie Hancock:Ahmed's a professor of applied linguistics and a seriously public scholar who's written for the Guardian, the Independent, and worked with the British Council, among many others. He lives in Gaza City, but joins us from Canada, where he's doing a fellowship at Université Laval. But by the time you hear this, he'll be starting a year-long fellowship at Harvard. Our conversation today will touch on some deeply
sociological themes:scholasticide, but also decolonial practice and the often troubled notion of development, Ahmed. Thanks for joining us. Can you start by telling us what it's like for educators in Gaza at the moment? You were there very recently, I understand. Though you're now in Canada for a while.
Unknown:Thank you for having me, Alexes and Rosie. And yeah, that's true. I was recently in in Gaza. I was recently evacuated from Gaza to join this two-month research fellowship at Laval University in Canada. So while I am physically here in Canada, I'm joining you this morning. I am really emotionally and professionally still in Gaza because I'm still working from afar. I'm still teaching virtually. I'm still supporting my students virtually. So, if we talk about what it means to be an educator in such an environment, whether in Gaza or from afar, it means teaching students through the pedagogy of hope, the pedagogy of survival, not only focusing on academic content, but rather it's about checking in, ensuring that students are safe. Well, as far as it could be, it's about adapting assessments, adapting deadlines, ensuring that your content relates to the students and what they are going through, ensuring that you are well as much as possible, trauma-informed educator, taking into consideration all those factors that interplay, we've been teaching using WhatsApp groups. So, given the circumstances, the destruction of infrastructure that you talked about, Rosemary, as part of Scholasticide, and we're talking about. Decide as you said, it is not practical to expect students can join Zoom sessions or live sessions using platforms like Zoom or Google Meet. We've been using WhatsApp groups, Telegram groups, like sending voice notes to ensure continuity, and and I think this matters and this is important. But yeah, as I said, it's it's a fragile academic life, but at least it is still academic life, and it is still continuing. Most of my students are displaced. They join class from tents. They tell me often that I don't have electricity, I don't have internet connection, so I have to go to an internet cafe to be able to send you this message or to submit an assignment, and continue learning.
Rosie Hancock:Ahmed, I mean that's such a hugely challenging context to teach in, and extraordinary that the teaching is continuing and people are continuing to study. To the extent that you feel comfortable doing this, could you describe to us the extent of the destruction, particularly around the universities?
Unknown:I mean, it is immense destruction, honestly. And it's not me who's saying that; it's the UNICEF, Norwa. International organisations have been documenting the scale of destruction, and this is what is being referred to as colas decide because it is widespread, massive destruction of infrastructure, of buildings, and more importantly, and more painfully, the human loss. So this is what it means to describe what was happening, what is being done as colas decide, as killing of scholarship. This term was coined 2008, 2009 by Professor Carmen Abulsi, a Palestinian theorist and a scholar who teaches at Oxford, it was coined after the aggression on Gaza 2008 2009 because it was evident that there was a systematic attack on education, buildings, campuses, staff. But now, I mean, 2008, 2009, and all that gap of time, and then we are talking about this 220 2320, 25, and all the destruction we've witnessed when it comes to the higher education or education sector in Gaza. Now we are talking about different territories, and the term that was was used almost 15 or 16 years ago. Probably it applies, but you can imagine the wide destruction that took place. So I felt that scholasticide is even does not capture the immense destruction that we've we've witnessed and we've seen. You're talking about 95% of higher education institutions were destroyed, and this is according to Onoro. Very recent assessment by Onoro and the World Bank. We are talking about 95% of campuses of higher education institutions in Gaza have been destroyed. More than 97% of schools systematically destroyed, and this is the loss when it comes to buildings and as I said it is more painful to report and talk about numbers when it comes to human loss because they are not numbers they are stories they are hopes and dreams and interrupted futures honestly we are talking about 1054 academics and teachers and educational staff that were killed in Gaza and the West Bank over the past two or three years. It is it is just it is just staggering and heartbreaking. As
Alexis Hieu Truong:you give us a sense and describe the the discussion and the context, it kind of seems like the right time still to ask you a language related question because I'm thinking of this term post war, right? What what does it mean to you right now as a scholar, given the the the the context you're describing?
Unknown:It's a painful question, but it is relevant because honestly, since the ceasefire was was declared was announced in Gaza, I've been hesitant to use the term ceasefire or post war, because these terms suggest really clean division between war and what comes after it, aggression and what comes after aggression. But honestly, the situation in Gaza is not like that. People in Gaza do not experience experience time in that way. I mean, what post-war are we talking about? Killing is still continuing. People are still displaced. You ask this question. I mean, if we are talking about ceasefire or post-war, does it really reflect what is happening in Gaza? And I don't think so. That's why. I think the structures that produced the violence did not disappear when the ceasefire was announced. Restrictions and disposition and denial of agency are still the norm. For me, Alex's post war should really describe more than the absence of this. Bombardment and shilling and massive killing, it should really mean that people can live safely and return to their normal life and determine their future with dignity. But I think we are not there yet. The
Rosie Hancock:broader project with scholars that you're involved with from University College London, and that also has scholars from both within and without of Palestine, was motivated by a call to academics worldwide issued by the Emergency Committee of Universities in Gaza, which was formed when administrators and academics at Gaza's three largest public universities, Al Aqsa, Al Azhar, and the Islamic University put out a statement in May 2024 affirming the existence and perseverance of Gaza's higher education sector. Amid that sector's near total destruction, which you've just described to us by Israeli forces, the authors wrote, "We build these universities from tents, and from tents, with the support of our friends, we will rebuild them once again. And I mean that speaks directly to your project here on reconstruction, which is called"From Rubble to Campus: A Roadmap for the Reparative Reconstruction of Higher Education in Gaza, 2026 to 2036, and I was hoping you could tell us about it, and also what reparative means here.
Unknown:I still recall that call that was made by the emergency committee of Gaza University, Rosemary, because was a really tough time for all of us. We witnessed the destruction of our workplaces, and we were, we were shocked that this was happening to universities. I mean, many of us academics in Gaza we witnessed destruction of our own homes, but honestly speaking, it was more painful to see the destruction of our universities and our our own workplace being destroyed and turned into rubble. This is where we had memories, and this is where we had dreams of supporting students and building futures together. So this broader project with UCL came in a context where I was thinking about okay, we have been talking about destruction and the scale of destruction, but I felt that discussion and research needs to focus again on okay, what is next? Are we going to rebuild or reconstruct in that common sense of the word, the buildings that have been destroyed, in the same way, in the same system, in the same conditions that surrounded all that destruction, and repeat them again. Are we going to restore the conditions that caused that destruction, without holding those who destroyed all that system accountable, because this is the common sense of the word reconstruction or rebuilding. That okay, a building has been destroyed, let's rebuild it, the same structure, the same engineering, whatever you call it. But my part of the broader project, as you said, it's thinking from rubble to campus, but campus in the sense of reparative reconstruction, and I wanted to put it in the form of a really a road map of a 10-year roadmap, and I wanted to be realistic that we are aware of the challenges surrounding our cause, our environment, our our story. So I wanted to ask, like, what rebuilding higher education should mean when universities have lost not only buildings and structures, but also we've lost academics, we've lost students, we've lost our archives, we've lost our routines and relationships. As I said, I was recently evacuated from Gaza, and I've spent the whole time, the whole of it. I was there and witnessed the whole story. Even when I was in Gaza, I was not able to meet with my colleagues because it was kind of tricky to move from one place to another. That is the meaning of losing routines and relationships, and and this is beyond just rebuilding and reconstructing a campus. Are we going to rebuild that? Are we going to take it into consideration when rebuilding higher education? So the word reparative is central, Rosemary, because conventional reconstruction, as I said, often begins with a damage assessment. How many buildings were destroyed? How much equipment was lost? And how much replacement will cost? These questions are important, and they matter deeply. But I think they are insufficient in the case of Gaza. We need to consider those routines, memories, hopes, and relationships that that have been impacted. And as I said, it's it's about asking who was harmed and and who was responsible, and who should determine what comes next. And and and the most important thing I suppose is that guards and academics and administrators and decision makers must be heard, must be authors of of that construction or reconstruction.
Alexis Hieu Truong:I feel like you've touched on this implicitly already. Kind of speaking about the ways in which these education, these learning spaces, when when they were destroyed, like it was felt very intensely. I'm kind of wondering how does a concept like education link up to a concept like home, and what does this mean? How does this better help us to understand, yeah, the significance and the importance of those spaces?
Unknown:Yeah, I think university is not a mere place where you go and do your job, and it is home in the sense that you spend more time at university, if it is at your workplace or if it is your place of study. You spend more time than you do at your your home, right? And it is home in the sense that you build relationships. You have dreams, or for students they have dreams of achieving a better future, reaching a better future, it is home in that sense, and this links back to the concept of education because in the Palestinian context, education is really something that ties strongly to the concept of dignity and identity. You know what? Last week there was something called taujihi results, like high school leaving results. We call it taujihi in in in Palestine, and taujihi is a turning point in students' life in Gaza or in Palestine in general. And when the results are out, the whole community is like idle, waiting for the results. I had my nephew at home, and we were all waiting for the results to come out. If this means something, it means that education is not only a personal investment of of somebody. It's kind of it's hope for the whole family, for the entire family, and this applies to school, and this applies to the whole Gazan community. That's why I mean, university is beyond just personal investment. It is honestly something that is related to dignity, statehood, identity, belonging, and imagining a better future over the overall.
Rosie Hancock:I mean, this is so it's so interesting to hear that, because I think sometimes getting an education is seen as like a time bracketed thing, right? It's you study for a few years, maybe it's a class thing, you know, in lots of countries, and is about achieving a kind of social mobility. So you might get it and leave home, or perhaps leave your country, and you can sort of move on or move up or what have you, and this sounds-it's fascinating because this sounds a little a little different. It's something that the the whole you know Palestinian society and families are deeply invested in as well. And yeah, that's fascinating. I mean, you you did your doctorate in New Zealand. Is that something that kind of similarly becomes like a big thing for families when their children are able to travel and and and come back with those experiences of education and bring them back into Gaza.
Unknown:Absolutely, it's something big, and the community values this really highly because it's a matter of seeing that. All right, we we are exploring other cultures, and the young generation is exploring other cultures and at the same time spreading our narrative to other cultures and sharing our culture with others and and and yeah bringing that expertise and and knowledge from from overseas to back home. It's something highly valued and respected, I suppose.
Alexis Hieu Truong:Ahmed, in your own work in your project, I know you see it as crucial to understand and treat academics in in Gaza not simply as as witnesses to loss, as you've said in the past, but as people with knowledge, experience, and authority to shape the future of their institutions. Could you tell us a bit more about this?
Unknown:Yeah, and this relates to why am I emphasising reparative reconstruction of education and higher education because it transcends looking at higher education as only buildings and structures, but rather as human beings who are knowledge hoarders and rights holders who produce knowledge and want to share knowledge. So it is key and important that they are given space and time to share their knowledge and take part in any decision making process when it comes to how the higher education landscape would look like if it is rebuilt. In Gaza, we always advocate as Palestinian academics. We always advocate that there should be nothing about us without us. We want to be part of that. We don't want to end up having external actors designing, implementing the rebuilding process for us. We don't want to be only participants who are invited to projects or research endeavours to be just people who would share their testimonies or lived experience. This is important, but this is not enough. We can be theorists. We can share fears about our own experience, and we can share those theories with the world, we are knowledge holders, and we want to share that knowledge with the world, and and and and and this is important, I think, and and that relationship should reflect that it is mutual benefit and it is decolonial, right? It respects that these people are not only storytellers or victims of oppression or disposition, but they are theorists. They have rights. They have land. They have knowledge to share.
Rosie Hancock:Speaking of knowledge holders, we're now going to hear from one of your colleagues on the Reconstructing Home Project, Dr. Nihad Al Sheikh Khalil, who is an associate professor in the history department at the Islamic University in Gaza. His project is called "The Efforts
of Gazan Families:Rebuilding the Home and Reorganising Roles During the War of Extermination. You're going to hear that the line's not particularly clear, so listen closely.
Unknown:My research examines how families in Gaza are attempting to rebuild their lives under conditions of ongoing genocide and repeated displacement. It is guided by
two central questions:one, what precisely has been destroyed in Gaza, and two, is Gaza undergoing reconstruction or being reshaped into an entirely new social reality? The study finds that destruction extends beyond physical infrastructure. In addition to the loss homes of homes and essential services, the war has profoundly disrupted family structures, social organisations, and systems of care and protection. 10s of 1000s of families have been displaced multiple times, often in search of basic safety. Under these conditions, family rules and responsibilities has been significantly reconfigured. Households are adapting in order to secure daily necessities such as water, food, fuel, and electricity, while also supporting children's education, responding to trauma, and making collective decisions about survival. The research argues that Gaza is not simply undergoing a process of reconstruction, but is engaged in an ongoing struggle to shape its future under extreme constraint, despite blockade limited humanitarian access and severe restrictions on movement. Gazans continue to rebuild their lives and sustain forms of resilience and collective identity. Any meaningful recovery, however, remains contingent on the lifting of the blockade and the end of occupation. Thank you.
Rosie Hancock:Nihad notes that Gaza is not now simply undergoing a process of reconstruction; it is engaged in an ongoing struggle to shape its future under extreme constraint, and there are sort of two key points there. The firstly, that reconstruction is contested, but also that it's not about recreating the past but shaping the future, and Ahmed. Could you reflect on what we heard there, with reference specifically to education, when we think about this?
Unknown:What resonates with me, honestly, is the emphasis he made on struggle and agency, and he's emphasising that Gaza is not simply a destroyed place that is waiting for international experts to arrive and reconstruct it. Right? He said that Palestinians are already making futures. They are already shaping futures under extremely harsh conditions. And and when I say they are shaping futures, this is evident in how academics are continuing to teach. Many of them are teaching from tents using their smartphones only because they don't have access to laptops, and students are continuing to learn searching for connectivity, for internet connectivity. They are sharing devices. I've surveyed students about which device they are using to access online learning. Most of them, like 82% said we are sharing one device in the family, and at the same time, and this relates to Dr. Mihad's project that families are trying to preserve memories, and this is evident in the social rituals that people are still practising, and how communities in Gaza create temporary spaces for learning and care. I've seen in Gaza temporary learning centres, and people are keen on sending their children to these places to continue learning with the minimal capacities, with the minimal tools available. But what is also key in Doctor Nihad's message is that that struggle is not about whether to rebuild or not rebuild higher education or education in general. It is honestly between competing political visions of reconstruction. How reconstruction is viewed from different political perspectives, right? It raises
questions:Who decides what Gaza will look like? Or, in particular, the higher education sector: Who will decide the content that will be taught? Who will decide the funding? Who owns the land, and who controls the the borders, the materials, the institutions that are functioning in in in Gaza, and
the question:Are we considering Palestinians in Gaza as citizens who can shape their own home, as or as a population that could be administered by external actors? And that is the risk because when an external plan, just like the the Board of Peace or any other plans, treat Gaza as an empty space for investment or development or redevelopment, honestly, reconstruction from that perspective can become another form of disposition and another form of erasure. Hi,
Alice Bloch:I'm Alice. I produce Uncommon Sense. Thank you for listening as we approach our 50 th episode. As we said, this was recorded in July 26, but of course, its relevance in Jaws, both regarding Palestine and, of course, other places worldwide facing reconstruction, which we're seeing differently in today's conversation. And another reminder: the statement from the Sociological Review Foundation that Rosie read from in our intro is in our show notes, along with pages from UNICEF and other organisations, full of facts and reports that speak to our conversation today. If you're listening to this in an app like Spotify or Apple, please do take time to rate and review us. It makes a difference. And if you'd like to directly support the making of this show, head to donorbox.org/uncommon-sense. We are a charity, and your support makes a difference. Thanks for listening.
Alexis Hieu Truong:We heard Nihah describe like displaced Gazans working to get daily necessities, support children's education, respond to trauma, make constant decisions about things like survival, right? And these are the kinds of things you you might hear actually when people talk about tropes like resilience, right? But something I wasn't really familiar with is the is the concept of samud. Can you tell us a bit more about that and what it means in a kind of sociological sense?
Unknown:Yeah. So we have resilience that comes from a Western perspective, I suppose. It comes from Western theories that resilience means the ability to adapt, to continue functioning in the face of adversities, to cope, and to be kind of flexible. Look, I've used the language of resilience in my own research, honestly, but really. Recently, I have become increasingly cautious about what we ask that world to do when it comes to the case of Gaza, because, as I said, it is the capacity to absorb a shock or adapt to harsh conditions or adversity, and the danger is that violence then appears as neutral shock and atrocities become probably neutralised, and what we've seen in Gaza, if we keep describing people as resilient, we may end up neutralising violence and atrocities, and then we end up having the responsibility for adaptation is transferred only to those victims or the person or community experiencing atrocities or or shock. But we have something deeper and more rooted in history in the Palestinian culture. That concept of sumoud in Arabic, which means steadfastness, and steadfastness is more rooted. It is more collective and it's political somehow because it is not simply bouncing back and coping. It is really a refusal to be erased and displaced or defined entirely by violence or loss or massacres. You know, it means remaining connected and rooted in your land, and language, and memory, and education, and community, and and and hopes, and belonging-all that relates to the concept of When a student joins a class from a tent, we consider it as sumud. When a teacher keeps teaching from a tent, regardless of the circumstances, regardless of personal circumstances, so many of us have lost loved ones. I personally lost 43 members of my extended family, including my sister, including four nephews, including my brother-in-law, my uncle, and his entire family. I mean, the loss is immense, but at the end of the day, from a sumoud perspective, you need to continue. You need to go on and not surrender to that loss. That's how sumoud manifests in the daily practices of academics and students. But again, Alexis, and this is important, sumoud must not be romanticised, because we don't want to romanticise suffering and loss, and you know, and replace resilience with another term that would be romanticised and neutralised. We Palestinians have the right to be exhausted, to be frightened, to be vulnerable, because at the end of the day, we're human beings, right? We shouldn't perform like heroic steedfastness or summut to deserve solidarity from the international community. So that is the challenge for academics around the world. That the challenge is to recognise Palestinian agency without normalising the conditions that demand such extraordinary endurance or steadfastness, and that's that's the challenge.
Rosie Hancock:Thank you so much for you know not only reflecting on scholarly experience in Gaza, but your own personal experience there as well, Ahmed. And thinking about steadfastness and and how it relates to the Reconstruction period, there's a paper by Rafif Ziada called"Development as Erasure" in the journal Development and Change. It draws, and I'm quoting a continuum of erasure from 1948 to contemporary schemes such as Gaza 2035, which envisioned the territory as a depopulated investment frontier for energy, logistics, and speculative urbanism. As that piece puts it, this is a quote: Neoliberal frameworks have transformed reconstruction into an extension of war by other means. So, do you think that in speaking of reconstruction, whether in in Gaza or wherever powerful interests and actors are in play, actually, there's a danger of neglecting that reconstruction is about power fundamentally and can indeed contain significant violence.
Unknown:Absolutely, and this is where Rafi's piece becomes really relevant to what we are talking about, and particularly education and the education sector, because Rafif attempts to confront and challenge That comforting separation between concepts like war, humanitarian relief, and you know development as concepts and as separate terms and concepts, as well as reconstruction, because in our context, in the Gazan context or in general. In the Palestinian context, these may not be separate stages. They can form part of the same historical process. I mean, Rafi's argument is not simply that development has failed Palestinians, but it can itself become a technology of control, right? And that's the danger that lies in there because reconstruction can continue war or the forms of of war, different forms of war by using other means, because when it comes to reorganising land or infrastructure and economic life according to external interest, not the interest of the population, the inhabitants of the land, the indigenous people of the land. Right? When we Palestinians are turned into humanitarian population that needs to be administered because we don't know how to administer ourselves, how to how to to manage our political and social life. Right? That's the danger, and it rebuilds the same form of dependency among Palestinians, while avoiding accountability for the destruction that took
place. So here is the point:Palestinians must possess real decision-making power over land, over institutions, and resources. And this is where I intentionally make that distinction between reconstruction and reparative construction, because simply that conventional form of reconstruction would simply reintegrate Gaza into economic networks that already exist, which are designed by others, external powers, but reparative reconstruction aims to restore the conditions through which Palestinians, in particular academics, can sustain social and intellectual life, and rebuild their lives and exercise their agency.
Rosie Hancock:Ahmed, let's hear now from your other colleague in Gaza working on this project, Dr. Abdrabu Al Anzi, a professor of political science at Al Azhar University. His work is called
"Maps of Resilience:Reconstructing the Spatial Memory of the Gaza Strip After the Genocide. As we'll hear in this clip, which is in translation reconstructions also about narrative and storytelling
Unknown:through the concept of spatial memory. I sought to approach reconstruction from a different perspective. This perspective differs somewhat from the conventional understanding of reconstruction. When we speak of reconstruction, we often think immediately of rebuilding buildings, walls, roads, and infrastructure. Yet, in the Palestinian context, particularly for Palestinians in Gaza, this understanding remains profoundly limited. For Palestinians in Gaza, place is not merely a physical space, a home, a neighbourhood, or a camp carries memory in its fullest sense. It carries family stories, the details of everyday life, and social relations. It also carries a sense of belonging, safety, and attachment to place. When such a place is destroyed, what is lost is not only a building, but also part of this memory. Therefore, I argue that reconstruction should be understood as a process of restoring the relationship between people and place. It should not be understood as merely rebuilding stone and concrete. In other words, the central question
becomes:How can we revive the meaning that these places once held in people's lives? From this point, I employed the concept of spatial narrative. Place, especially in Palestine, is a form of narrative. It is a story told through home streets, names, and everyday geographies. When destruction occurs, it is often accompanied by an attempt to erase this story. In this sense, reconstruction can become an act of narration. It becomes a way of rewriting the story within space. It also becomes a way of reaffirming presence through place. This
leads us to an important point:reconstruction is not merely a technical process; it is also a social and cultural process. It concerns how people participate in reshaping their places. It also concerns how they restore their sense of belonging and attachment to them. It is not only about how walls are rebuilt. I believe the critical reflection and reconstruction in. Gaza is essential. It prevents us from treating destruction as a purely engineering problem. If we focus only on speed and efficacy, we may rebuild the physical place, but we risk losing its meaning. However, if memory and narrative are taken into consideration, reconstruction can become an act that preserves identity, resists erasure, and restores to life some of its human depths.
Alexis Hieu Truong:Abdrabu talks here about how place, especially in Palestine, is a form of narrative, like a story told through homes, streets, and everyday geographies. But when destruction happens, it's it's often accompanied by an attempt to erase this history. Could you reflect on this for us? And and I wonder if it links back to your work as as a linguistic scholar, in a sense, like the fact that we're also interested here in this point about taking storytelling very seriously, right?
Unknown:Absolutely, and this is an area that I am really passionate about, honestly, and it links to my current and previous work with my students on storytelling, and and what resonates with me here is that reconstruction always begins with a story, begins with a narrative. It's a story about what existed before destruction, what families had in this place, what was happening, and the risk is that if Gaza is narrated only as rubble, as destruction. External actors may come and say, "All right, we will reconstruct a physical site instead of the one that was destroyed, and that's it. All right, but but but this is not enough because we are not after rebuilding the sites. We are after rebuilding the society, and this is where stories and narratives play an important role because they preserve the names that existed, the places, the relationships, and the institutional memories Abdrabbu was talking about, and the ways of living. Because honestly, I mean, yeah, we are talking about important damage assessments by UNORA, by UNICEF, but by many other international organisations. But these assessments do not capture those memories, relationships, and places. Right? These are documented through stories and narratives, because when Palestinians narrate their own stories by their own voice, they avoid being spoken about by governments and humanitarian agencies and international media without being without being given voice. And I think this is what we've been trying to do with young Palestinians in Gaza. I've been working with the British Council on on two projects. One of them is called Resilient Voices. This is where we trained young Palestinians, 50 young Palestinians, in digital storytelling, video stories, blogs, and podcasts, where they documented their struggle, their suffering, their determination, and their adversity, their memories, the places they loved, and and and and they were given voice. Another similar project this year we are working on with the British Council Palestine is an anthology of short stories, and it is titled "Writing Gaza Within. It tells stories from within Gaza about the life in Gaza from within as well. So, I think this is important, but at the end of the day, narrative cannot replace homes and universities and and and material repair. This is also important, but only material repel, as Dr. Abu Dhabi said, if it is only material reconstruction or rebuilding without those narratives and stories, we are again reproducing erasure and the process of erasure that took place, and that's the risk. That's that's the risk of producing only material rebuilding or reconstruction.
Rosie Hancock:I mean, you could say that attacks on narrative are attacks on continuity and and and kind of on its possibility. And I've been reminded here of a 2024 piece by Alasoria for the Sociological Review, where she wrote that alongside the obliteration of human bodies, there has been a decimation of the infrastructure for sustaining and reproducing social life in Gaza. We are witnessing a crisis of social reproduction, the process by which aspects of society and culture are passed on from one generation to another, and all. So within generations, and I wondered, you know, what are your thoughts on this, and how your roadmap for education might possibly address this crisis? Because, I mean, that's what education really is. Yeah, it's like the sharing of stories from one generation to another.
Unknown:That's right, Rosemary. Because when I've read this piece by Ela, it felt like this concept is really abstract one. This sociological idea, but but but in the way she narrated the story of her son, and then the stories of those parents in Gaza and those parents, Palestinian parents outside Palestine, she depicted the the the idea in such a really deeply human way, and I think the emphasis here is not only on how social reproduction takes place through physical survival only, but also through how parents in Gaza care for their children, provide education, and ensure that continuity that you're talking about, ensuring that language is sustained and memory is transferred from one generation to another, and this also applies to Palestinians outside Gaza, and and and those forms of personhood or parenthood, and sustaining those forms of parenthood, like celebrating birthdays, like the story of Dua. It's really sad and and painful that Ela narrated was really painful. Like even during the war, a parent was trying to sustain those forms of parenthood and livelihood and personhood that celebrating birthdays and comforting children and creating moments of joy at a time that it is understatement to describe it as challenging. Really understatement. I suppose the challenge is for Palestinians inside Gaza and outside Gaza, Palestinians inside Palestine and outside Palestine is how to participate in this process of social reproduction, because as you said, parents pass on stories about villages, about displacement, about the Nakba that they witnessed in 1948. But now a new form of Nakba, and also the beauty of our Palestinian culture. This is a responsibility for parents to pass on those stories, and of course, this is the importance of projects like these that I've just mentioned, documenting the new generation, the young generation, lived experiences and stories, and passing them from one generation to another. Because this is what we've been telling our our students that you have responsibility to bear witness, because what you are doing is not only telling a story, but you are creating an archive for future generation.
Alexis Hieu Truong:Ahmed, I'm curious about your fellowship at Harvard. Like, what do you hope to build and to share while you're there? I know that by the time this actually reaches everyone, your year there will already be underway, right?
Unknown:It's one academic year at Harvard Radcliffe Institute. It's a wonderful, wonderful opportunity to give me something that has been really, really difficult to find over the past few years in in Gaza, which is that sustained intellectual time and engagement with like-minded individuals, and get that institutional shelter which we which we have lost in in Gaza. But again, I'll be working on a book project, and it is titled
"The Universe in Extremists:Reimagining Academic Freedom in Palestine, and it will examine what universities in Gaza and the West Bank can teach us about academic freedom and the social purpose of higher education under war, under genocide, under occupation, and institutional precarity.
Rosie Hancock:Well, by the time this reaches our listeners, that work will be already underway, and it's been so illuminating and really important to speak to you today. And we hope this conversation can change and expand people's minds when it comes to thinking about what reconstruction means. We also want to thank you for your time and the emotional energy that you expend, which is a huge labour, and I'm sure it has its toll. You talk about your own experience, no doubt, over and over to journalists and academics like us, and we're very appreciative.
Unknown:Well, thank you, Rosie and Alexis. I thank you for for the opportunity, but I would like to thank the UCL team who managed to secure this project and build a bridge with us as academics in Gaza. Would like to thank Rachel and Riem for this wonderful effort and. And this hopefully would encourage other UK and international academic institutions to step forward and work with academics in Gaza and in Palestine in general. So thank you so much. I really enjoyed the conversation.
Alexis Hieu Truong:Thank you, Ahmed.
Rosie Hancock:Ahmed spoke about decolonial work and his project as part of that, we'll ensure we put further details on this in our show notes.
Alexis Hieu Truong:And thanks to those at University College London working on the Reconstructing Home project, of which Ahmed is a part. That team also includes Rachel Rosen, Reem Ben Jaber, and Saba Ab El Karim, whose work on translation was essential. Plus, of course, Dr. Abd Rabu Al Azi and Dr. Nihad Alshik Khalil.
Rosie Hancock:Our producer was Alice Bloch. Our sound engineer is Dave Crackles. See you back here soon.