During a month commemorating the fifty-first anniversary of the Zionist assassination of Ghassan Kanafani in Beirut, Louis Brehony met leading member of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) Marwan Abd el-‘Al in the city’s Mar Elias refugee camp in June 2023. An artist, novelist, and cultural activist alongside his role in the PFLP political council, Abd el-‘Al had freshly returned from taking part in events in Syria, where he had lectured on Kanafani’s legacy, building on an analysis of al-Kanafaniyya (‘Kanafaniism’) he had developed in recent years. This Beirut interview took place in two thematically distinct parts, with the first – the historic and contemporary situation faced by Palestinians in Lebanon – the subject of an interview published by the Britain-based Revolutionary Communist Group. 1 Here, we present the first and second parts combined. The first part comprises the first four questions. The second part of this interview, comprising the latter questions, centered on the enduring presence of Kanafani in Palestinian resistance culture.
Can you describe the inception of the PFLP and the context of the organization’s early years in Lebanon?
The PFLP was born as a successor to the Arab Nationalist Movement (ANM), which had come into being among young intellectuals at the American University of Beirut in the early 1950s. The ANM took on the strong influence of pan-Arabist ideas but, because of the direct experiences of the Nakba defeat in 1948, it saw the necessity of building a response to the presence of the Israeli state and to fight US interests in the region. But after 1967 there were new questions: the ANM had been a response to 1948; the PFLP was the response to 1967.
The nationalist trend had been the introduction to raising the questions of how to free the Arab nation, for which the Arabist movement paid a high price. We were now dealing with a period of transformation, organizationally and politically, from nationalism to Marxism-Leninism. Of course, this is no easy question, and the Front was subject to splits and new trends. But what emerged during this period was a strategy on the nature of the confrontation with Zionism, imperialism, and Arab reaction; identifying the enemies and friends of the Palestinian people; and the idea that there was no other path to liberate Palestine than the path of revolutionary struggle. All of this meant that the PFLP came to play an essential role during this period in the process by which the Palestinian nation confronted Zionism, taking every opportunity to escalate the resistance.
After 1967, the focus of this confrontation took place from within Jordan, which represented the closest route to Palestine and the location of the largest concentration [of refugees]. The movement suffered from its repression by the Jordanian regime, which attacked it with the purpose of liquidating the Palestinian revolution. But there were other fronts too, which shaped the history of the PFLP, including the movements in Gaza led by “Guevara” 2 and others, with some crossover in the Nasserist nurturing of resistance … until the point where it became necessary to shift the focus to Lebanon [in late 1970]. The PFLP had come to play a leading role … Beirut became the center of all political trends and movements, and the capital of revolution.
What were the specific consequences of the wartime period in Lebanon for the Palestinians? Can you also describe its aftermath and the ongoing lack of rights for Palestinians in the country?
The problems of Lebanon itself were, of course, complex. Wars were waged against the Palestinian revolution in Lebanon, as well as against the progressive Lebanese nationalist movement. And at the center of Lebanon’s sectarian framework and violent opposition to Palestinians, socialists, communists, nationalists, and progressives stood forces allied to Zionism … Zionist intervention in Lebanon dealt an extremely painful wound to the Palestinian body. I, myself, for example, began my teenage years in the heart of what was called the civil war, thinking how to defend my very existence as a human being. During this Israeli war, entire refugee camps were erased [between 1974 and 1976], such as Tel al-Za’tar, Jisr al-Basha, and al-Nabatiyyeh. In this war, there was no Palestinian family without a martyred, injured, or missing member.
The Lebanese state now says that there are 117,000 Palestinians: we say that there may be up to 250,000, since so many are unregistered. This is a result of the negligence and restrictions of this long-term residency and underlines the lack of basic human and civil rights for Palestinians in Lebanon. A future of extreme anxiety is imposed on all the youth wishing to work. If they find the money, Palestinians can go and study anything they want in any university in the country. But they are not allowed to work here. This is a question on which we have failed to lobby politicians and parties – you know how Lebanon is divided on sectarian lines, even though some of them take pro-Palestine positions. This is one of the questions confronting the PFLP in Lebanon.
In today’s Lebanese context, what are the priorities and goals of the PFLP? It is a huge contradiction, of course, that the face of Mahmoud Abbas appears here on the gates to the camp. What role does the Palestinian Authority play? And what influence does the PFLP have in the camps more generally across Lebanon?
The priorities of the PFLP are, firstly, to preserve the Palestinian presence in Lebanon on the human level, which still occupies an important position in the confrontation. Israel would love to rid itself of the Palestinians in Lebanon and with them the threat to its existence. The camps are a living reminder of what it created with the Nakba. The second issue is the dignity of the people. The United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA), the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), and the Lebanese state are all responsible. We often find that they shirk this responsibility: the state can’t even feed its own people and tells UNRWA that the issue of water sanitation in the camps is its problem. The PFLP sees it as our duty to unify the Palestinian people, alongside those fighting in the West Bank, for example. Of course, there are social splits and all kinds of contradictions, but this is part of the responsibility. Our youth pay huge sums to migrate or drown on boats, or become addicted to drugs, or see religious sectarianism as the solution. In fighting for human rights, the right of return remains the red line as far as we are concerned.
In general, people are unstable in their very existence in Lebanon and have real worries over their futures, their children, etc. Their main concern is how to become secure in their living conditions. Politically, it becomes a competition over who is the bigger chief. The Islamists operate an economy of zakat via a donation box, which they bring every month; instead of offering the people a solution, factories, or work, they create dependence on them, which is a power relation. The PFLP is a different organization in this situation because it takes a clear and well-known responsibility towards the Palestinian people, with a character, identity, and viewpoint on the confrontation, with no possibility that it will retreat from its beliefs.
The organization has faced every war and survived. It doesn’t have an income from outside. In the present we are marching against the tide but, historically in Lebanon, the Front was one of the first Palestinian organizations and has earned its reputation. There is a discussion between parties tomorrow, for example, called by Hizbollah, on the question of how we see the battle for Jenin. Of only six organizations represented, one is the PFLP. For the last ten years, there has been a campaign to address the destruction of Nahr al-Bared refugee camp, 3 which remains home to over 35,000 people. The PLO and Hamas are absent and there is no support from the Lebanese state, but the PFLP has led the reconstruction. We take responsibility, not by sitting in hotels or by living in comfortable districts, but by being alongside the people throughout these difficult times.
Can you describe the position taken by the PFLP regarding the revolutionary movement which emerged in Lebanon in October 2019, particularly in light of the economic crisis facing the working class?
Lebanon suffers from corruption, negligence and defects at the governmental level that have not just sprung up in the last few years or occurred because of the existence of Hizbollah weaponry or the Palestinian struggle and its relationship to Israel. No, these problems originate with the founding with Lebanon as a sectarian state. [Lebanese Marxist] Mahdi Amel wrote that sectarianism is actually the reflection of class: there is a comprador class who are always looking to deepen their interests through a relationship with the West. Or to transform the class struggle into a sectarian conflict. This is what happened in the civil war and others before it.
Many of us take the view that, if Syria fell [after 2011], Lebanon would fall after. This was the analysis. But Syria did not fall – and the Lebanese role in Syria was one of the reasons, the fact that the resistance opened a front in Syria. But whatever happened in Syria, Lebanon was heading for extreme economic pressure. It is a rentier economy, as has been clear since the Hariri family entered the scene, and the banks seek to make whatever profit they can off of this land. This reached such an extent that the people of the country began to drown …
Lebanon has fallen economically, and people here have every right to protest about it. In 2017, the movement was united against the state and against the sectarian system. The protesters said, “We are Lebanese.” Many people believed that the movement really did transcend views on religious identity. Some Lebanese communists began to describe 2017 as another October 1917. But another force entered the picture, benefitting from this type of movement, and raising a totally different banner. The Phalange came on board, using some of the same slogans, but adding their own: that the crisis in the country is related to the arms of Hizbollah. This view was essentially a Lebanese expression of the US viewpoint. Then there were elections and things died down. There are many who viewed the movement as revolutionary who do not take the same view now. There were protests against the US embassy, and they were correct.
Hizbollah and Amal were afraid of this revolution and stood against it. Firstly, because the movement claimed to represent all of the people. This was untrue, of course: generality really means opacity. If you want to say, “all against corruption,” and so on, without distinction, it is in reality a limitation. It is untrue – and this is one of the falsehoods spread by [French Zionist] Bernard-Henri Lévy: that it is possible to have a leaderless revolution. Without a vanguard to lead the expression of this anger, the revolution has no direction. If we speak of a national front, for example – with whom are you going to enter into this alliance?
If Israel or the US invades Lebanon, we become fighters alongside the Lebanese. We are against any outside intervention in Lebanon. But, in terms of the internal problems of Lebanon, we maintain our independence. People in Lebanon who support Palestine should allow us to live in the country on equal terms to any other people: this is the condition we place on everyone.
Let’s talk about Ghassan. One of the main reasons we are publishing the Selected Political Writings book (Kanafani, 2024) is his continuing presence among Palestinians in occupied Palestine, Europe, North America, and beyond. It seems that there is renewed interest in his work among a new generation, evidenced in the visibility of his image on leftist mobilizations in Palestine, and a sharing of quotes, interviews, and new translations internationally. Are we right in seeing Ghassan’s rising popularity in recent years? And is this something you see in Lebanon too?
Of course! Every year, our commemorations for Ghassan grow, as does his importance and relevance, which indicates that his work is of the present rather than of the past. This is because, when we are worn down by the conditions of deepening crisis we face, we come to ask ourselves why Ghassan was targeted for assassination. And not just Ghassan, but why Ghassan specifically? We can only conclude that they feared his ideas. They killed Ghassan because of what they feared he could become: their aim is therefore to kill the future. As regards to the Palestinian national liberation struggle, the Arab movements, and for the international struggle, through all of his relationships, Ghassan’s position resembled that of Franz Fanon in the Algerian revolution. To the Palestinian revolution, Ghassan was Franz Fanon. He was young and, if the revolution had been victorious in his time, you would have seen his image everywhere, like Che Guevara. It is therefore our duty to understand Ghassan’s assassination and his ideas.
I gave a speech about Ghassan in Damascus during the [July 2023] Ghassan Kanafani Cultural Days. I didn’t know Ghassan personally – I was only 12 years old when he was killed – but came to know him after his assassination, when joining the crowd at his funeral and, seeing people crying, I realized that they had killed an important thinker. Joining the PFLP as youths [in the mid-1970s], we all got to know who Ghassan was and found him everywhere: in all of the books we read in the organization, in our means of organizing in the camps, we were educated in the school of Ghassan and learned that all of his ideas were the thought of the national liberation movement. His ideas were not spiritual, but scientific. He did not analyze phenomena within the confines of academic parameters but used materialist, Marxist methods and translated them to us in Arabic.
Ghassan’s understanding produced a theory of the confrontation [with Zionism] and its inner motives, based on material reality. When he wrote about the revolution of 1936, for instance – which remains, for many people, the seminal text – he built his analysis on Marxism. His many texts were written under the guiding slogan: “with our blood, we write for Palestine.” He embodied the Palestinian cause and gave his body to the struggle. All of this embodies every juncture with Ghassan’s presence: he was an essayist, poet, journalist, poster artist, editor, designer of al-Hadaf, writer of short stories, and of sardonic columns. His was a comprehensive intellectual resistance (muqawim wa-muthaqqif shamil - مقاوم ومثقف شامل). This is where we locate the influence of Ghassan.
In Europe, we often hear that Ghassan was a writer of stories alone, in separation from his political work and written contribution to Palestinian Marxism – this is something we want to change. Coming to Lebanon, however, we find an opposite view, where there is an emphasis on his politics to the extent that some oppose the emphasis. We want to respect the balance, of course, but there is clearly a lot of work to be done: many do not know about Ghassan’s post-1967 Marxist analysis, the influence of China, the call for liberated “Arab Hanois,” and contributions on other questions. Do you agree that this internationally neglected “political work” (of course, his novelistic work is also political) represents an important portion of Ghassan’s output? Are we correct to focus on this area?
Our view is akin to yours. I am also a cultural figure – I have written ten novels and also paint and take huge inspiration from Ghassan. Novels like All that’s Left to You and The Blind and the Deaf are very interesting in terms of novelistic skill, and how Ghassan wielded it, the metaphors he used and so on. Three years ago, I gave a speech about Ghassan here [in Beirut], “The Political Ghassan” (Ghassan al-siyasi - غسان السياسي). Why this title? Many articles in newspapers and magazines, including those from Israel, have printed volumes of writing discussing Ghassan Kanafani from reductive standpoints, stripping him of his political affiliation, while connecting him only to literature. But what literature? Merely to literature of entertaining people, rather than that of commitment.
A second point is that there had been television projects on Qatari channels and, when PFLP leaders came to speak, the producers would say: “please, we don’t want a political discussion of Ghassan.” This then becomes a discourse of confusion. At a different extreme, some newspaper articles state that Ghassan Kanafani was killed for his role in the PFLP, and not for his literature. In this view, Israel killed him because they saw him as a terrorist. [Israeli writer] Dan Rubenstein published a book, Why didn’t you bang on the sides of the tank? Of course, and here, Ghassan is recognized as an “exceptional writer” of exile. Yet, in Rubenstein’s view, Ghassan was killed because he was a terrorist – this is in the book. So, they try to cut off Ghassan, or expel him from his [political] home.
There are many NGOs who treat Ghassan as though he was a serialist writer, defined by the literature and stories he wrote, [seen as containing] the secret to his power and longevity … He created a new model – and this was the basis of the discussion on the [2020] commemoration in Beirut, in the presence of Anni [Kanafani]. We [the PFLP contributors] stated in clear terms that there are many intellectual models, Palestinian or Arab, which contain commitment and support for the Palestinian cause. Edward Said, for example, raised the question of the Palestinian cause. Said was connected to the cause and its politics, however he could not be considered wholly to be with us, given his distance from organization. Said posed questions of identity and so on which were important. He was present here [in Beirut] and was involved in associations that had relationships to politics and culture that were often helpful.
But Ghassan came from a different methodology. His approach was between the art of the pen and the art of the rifle. This is the idea of resistance culture and resistance literature. The idea that culture serves the resistance, not culture for culture’s sake. This is the framework that many refuse to recognize or focus on. Rather, Ghassan is removed from the door of politics. But his literature was both reflective of the experiences he endured and a means to represent his people. Importantly, it was he who said that committed literature – his first means of expression – would also contain beauty and honesty, expressive of the life of its people, society, and the conditions they endured. This was Ghassan’s gift, representing a class-conscious commitment. When he wrote about Umm Sa’ad, for example, he said “we are the downtrodden” (nahnu al-mad’usin - نحن المدعوسين) and identified his people, the refugees, as being the most collectively trampled upon, or the most suppressed class of people. People saw real truth in his words about the Palestinian people and a measure of his commitment.
We also know that Ghassan was a leader – as a significant voice inside the PFLP. A voice of political culture. There are many examples of this leadership in Adnan Badr Hilou’s important book The Airport of Revolution in the Shade of Ghassan Kanafani (Hilou, 2008). It was not the Tasks of the New Stage [March 1972] that confirmed Ghassan’s position as a Marxist. The Tasks of the New Stage were developed after the exit of the Front from Jordan, when a national conference of the PFLP was held in al-Baddawi camp [in North Lebanon]. I wrote an article on this for the Institute of Palestine Studies, “Kanafaniism and the PFLP” (Abd El-‘Al, 2022). Ghassan was involved in the broad and extensive discussion over the concepts of the party and the Front. Every crisis precipitates a series of arguments, with each seeking to exonerate itself from the crisis at the expense of another. Ghassan did not accept this environment, which was shaped by a schism in the PFLP, led by those who considered themselves the revolutionary front – more revolutionary than George Habash, Ghassan Kanafani, and Wadi’ Haddad.
In this context, Ghassan did not initially want to be involved in the conference and preferred to remain in Beirut. He felt that organizations were “the graveyard of creativity,” but who convinced him to go? Wadi’ Haddad! On the road to al-Baddawi, Ghassan asked why Wadi’ had not come, but, when he got to the conference, by surprise, he found that Wadi’ was already there waiting for him. Who responded to the great storm, shaking the whole PFLP? Ghassan Kanafani! The trend led by George Habash had Ghassan on its side and al-Hakim [Habash] called for an agreement that Ghassan write the resulting document. So, out of the debate at this conference, Ghassan wrote The Tasks of the New Stage, released as a book by the PFLP. It reflected on what had happened in Jordan and had as its basis [Ghassan’s 1970 pamphlet] “The Resistance and its Challenges” (Kanafani, 2015: 171–219).
Did Ghassan write The Tasks of the New Stage collaboratively, with others in the Front?
No, Ghassan wrote it himself before submitting it to the Central Committee. It was then agreed upon and was released as the document of the conference. It is important to note that Ghassan was not a member of the Political Bureau – and was not appointed until after his martyrdom – but was a member of the Central Media Committee. But the fact that his writings were released by the Central Committee offers an important indication that he acted as an unofficial member of this leadership body, and that the work of Ghassan occupied the highest position in the politics of the Front. An intellectual with such thought, experience, and character could shape the minds of others. To me, this is more dangerous to Israel than any nuclear weapon.
One of the most important points that Ghassan raised was that we are not yet witnessing a revolutionary stage. Make no mistake: we are in a stage of preparation for the revolution. So, for Ghassan, we have not yet witnessed the revolution. Another important point he raised was in emphasizing heavy, as opposed to light politics. Though there were organizations, there must also be one voice for the Palestinian people, represented through the struggle to form one banner. Who represented this banner? Well, it could be said that all of those targeted [and killed] by Israel during this period represented this banner: firstly Ghassan, then Kamal Nasser, Kamal Adwan, Muhammad Youssef al-Najjar, Majed Abu Sharar … All had been in Beirut, and all represented this idea of the united banner. They targeted one organization after another, and targeted newspaper editors in particular.
[In 1969,] Ghassan had been due to begin editing Falastin al-Thawra but Wadi’ Haddad told him: “we must release a newspaper named al-Hadaf … with you as its editor.” He had been working at al-Anwar and left this position, for which he had received a high salary, to begin working on al-Hadaf. When he was assassinated, Kamal Nasser – the editor of Falastin al-Thawra – put Ghassan’s picture on its cover. This was a political role. His martyrdom was part of a targeted campaign of erasure of those committed to political literature and political culture – they sought to cleanse the Palestinian movement of its revolutionary content, rather than allow its influence to spread to others. We always begin “comrade Ghassan …,” “martyr Ghassan …” – and there are many references to him that suggest that he died of natural causes – but he was blown apart. This is the bestiality of Israel and its actions.
Talal Salman used to say in lectures about Ghassan Kanafani – and he knew him well – in very simple language, that when any foreign visitor would come to Beirut, the first person he’d take them to meet would be Ghassan Kanafani. Because he was the one who could best communicate the meaning of the Palestinian cause. Talal remembered that, upon leaving Lebanon, people would report of meeting 20 Palestinian figures, but that Ghassan was the only one who had been of any use. He also recalled seeing Ghassan worked, from early morning, until late at night, how he’d reply to messages or answer the telephone, or have discussions in the middle of the al-Hadaf offices with people from other parties. And “this article needs to go to such and such a place, pass it on to …” He’d work as if he had a terminal illness impelling him to finish. Talal would laugh that when all of the Arab ambassadors were asleep, Ghassan was the only one who carried on. There are many who attempt to hide this political legacy, but this was his contribution to the fight and the revolution.
The question “why?” (limatha - لماذا) is the subject of many articles, including my own. Why Ghassan? In his novels, Ghassan began with the question “why?” And then, “when?,” “how?” and so on. Each story is tied to a question. Men in the Sun: “Why didn’t you bang on the sides of the tank?” What is Left to You: “When?” The Hat and the Prophet: “How?” – in this [novel] there is a fighter and there is an ideology. The novellas of Ghassan never grow old, even those which are incomplete. The question “why?” was the first question Ghassan asked in June [1967]. Why did the Naksa happen? He fixated upon this question, and it was the subject of much commentary. You know the Egyptian phrase “la-Maza” (roughly, “don’t answer back”) – they used it towards Ghassan because they saw him as insolent.
The most important of his political works – and we were given this to read as youths in the Front – was The Revolution of 1936–1939: Background, Details, and Analysis. This was the first time that Palestinian history had been written from top to bottom, in terms of the peasantry and all the other classes that were involved, their standpoints, the standpoints of the intellectuals, and so on. All of our lives, we are taught histories of Hajj Amin Husseini, King Abdullah … – of the ruling classes. Even Israeli scholars recognize that if the 1936 revolution had not been defeated, there would be no Israel. If we want to understand this, we need to grasp all of the conditions which gave rise to this reality, from within the confrontation – this is real Marxism. Others came and fought each other after taking on the perspective of Bulgaria, the Soviet Union, Mao … But reality is here, understanding the sides of the confrontation, their loyalties, and classes. And not class alone, but its awareness, knowledge culture, and many other factors. What was special about Ghassan was his ability to uncover the real meaning of events.
Ghassan’s method was not merely literary. If Ghassan’s literature was a success, it was because of the weight of the liberationist content carried by it. In answer to the question, “Why didn’t you bang on the sides of the tank?” [in Men in the Sun], Ghassan said in an interview with Mawaqif magazine [in June 1970]: “I called out in an extremely loud voice for resistance and violence” (“دعوت بصوت شديد العلوّ إلى المقاومة والعنف”; Kanafani, 1970). This was a refusal of pacification. Ghassan confirmed in the interview that in Men in the Sun had a relationship to Palestinian resistance. The road to Palestine was not through the desert, but could be found elsewhere, leading only to the struggle. This was his understanding of the novel, that the solution was not found through the individual personality, but in the collective. This is the essence of the subject.
Can you clarify the role played by Ghassan in the PFLP Strategy for the Liberation of Palestine 4 in 1969?
In the Political and Organizational Strategy, Ghassan made the leading contribution. Others included PFLP leaders George Habash, possibly Hani al-Hindi, Abdelwahab al-Kayali, Alhaytham al-Ayoubi. In meetings on strategy, this group worked together with Ghassan on the document. I remember that, after Oslo, George Habash used to tell me that we needed a new Strategy and, worried that we would fall short, we jokingly asked, “How are we going to find the writers of the [1969] first Strategy?” This was a recognition of Ghassan’s role.
There were similarities with The Resistance and its Challenges, which was written after the exit from Jordan. Ghassan wrote that we were fighting on an exposed territory, as an openly known force, and that this led to the tendency of the struggle becoming a guerrilla war. The role of Jordanian nationalism had also been exposed and this discussion continued into Lebanon. There was discussion and uncertainty between the leading minds in Fatah too, including Kamal Adwan and Yousef al-Najjar, over what was preferable: [an openly known] Fatahland or a phantom-like [guerrilla] Fatah. There were two trends in Fatah on this question. Why? Because the experience of Fatahland was the same as in Jordan, a focus on particular [geographical] areas, under the watch of the tanks.
The question of guerrilla warfare was prominent – and it didn’t have the focus that we saw in Hanoi or earlier in China, for example – especially given that Israel and the US were confronting [the movement]. Unfortunately, however, the experience was one of army-building (tajayyish - تجيش) in the Palestinian revolution, and the potential for guerrilla warfare was not escalated. We saw some of the results of what Ghassan wrote in The Resistance and its Challenges in the Israeli wars on Lebanon, including against Hizbollah, which organized [to defeat Israel] with this phantom-like, guerrilla force. Even today, it is unknown where Hizbollah military capabilities are based: search the whole of the South and you will find nothing, but when the war comes you will see their power. We have learned a lot from this experience. In the earlier period, everybody knew where Abu Ammar and George Habash were. You could get in a taxi and say, “drop me at the party office.” “Which one, Abu Ayyad [Fatah] or PFLP?” Could you believe this was a revolution? Ghassan wrote about this during the period in Jordan. All his foresight was the result of study and knowledge.