Once deemed a marginal issue, the 8,500 or so Palestinians in Israeli jails are increasingly at the centre of negotiation agendas. Veteran activist and one-time detainee Sufyan Abu Zayda, the man who holds the detainees portfolio in Abu Mazen's Fatah-dominated government, told Al-Ahram Weekly just how important it has become. In so doing he represents not only a new generation of Palestinian politicians but the new look of the Palestinian Authority Interview by Shahira Samy No room for doubt about his political allegiances: the Palestinian minister for prisoners' affairs is adamantly assertive about where he belongs. His standing remains clear on the political map of Palestine, whether that of today or of yesterday. It was early morning as I dashed into the room to be greeted by a jubilant Sufyan Abu Zayda, still rejoicing over the court rulings annulling municipal election results in Rafah, after allegations of irregularities in voter registration lists in 51 out of 141 precincts. I stood watching the deep blue eyes reflect fierce triumph before I could listen to the broad Gaza voice recounting details: Hamas's invalidated victory in the southern part of Gaza marking the latest episode in recently escalating frictions with the one powerful contender in Palestinian politics, Fatah. "The real test is when you're in power," Abu Zayda assured me with a confident shrug. "Any opposition movement can claim to work wonders, as indeed it should. Should Hamas take over, however, the Palestinian people will get to see exactly how that can only lead to perdition." Abu Zayda had remained skeptical that the now-postponed Palestinian legislative elections, if held, could have ever lead to a major reshuffle on the Palestinian political scene. He was particularly doubtful that Fatah would ever turn into an opposition movement. Yet "Fatah must learn from its mistakes", he insists, "and revamp its ranks. There's been a lot of confusion concerning the distinction between Fatah and the Palestinian Authority, with the former held responsible for many of the latter's problems. But the current phase is totally different. We accept the perils of the game of democracy even despite the difficulty of playing it under occupation and contending with an opposition like Hamas." A veteran fighter and detainee, Abu Zayda is nonetheless relatively young. Born in Jabalya, Gaza's largest refugee camp, only a few kilometres away from Breir, the village his family fled during the massive exodus of 1948, he has come to understand the importance of politicking, notwithstanding his no doubt noble intentions, in the end. Well-educated, with a reputation entirely clear of corruption charges, he represents both the fresh blood and the new look of Abu Mazen's Fatah- dominated government. And in delineating the change that government claims to be undertaking, the 44-year-old switches to flawless classical Arabic; in so doing he displays remarkable ease in talking as well as, evidently, practising politics: "From a diplomatic point of view there is no difference between the Arafat and post-Arafat era. Arafat accepted Madrid, Oslo and the roadmap. From that perspective, the current leadership is following the same path. The difference lies in priorities. Arafat paid little attention to domestic conditions in Palestine. For him this was a marginal consideration. Institutions existed, but they were more or less imaginary. He made all the decisions -- he headed all of them anyway. Arafat had a charisma that made it possible to hold the threads together. And the argument was that the Palestinian people should concentrate on resisting the occupation. Corruption mushroomed and nobody was held accountable. So in this sense you could say that the new phase -- the one now followed -- is that of institution-building." Welcoming democratic procedure and anti-corruption policies, many Palestinians are nonetheless concerned that Fatah's policy of putting down arms in reality amounts to giving up those rights fought for since the start of the peace process. In response to this, Abu Zayda does not flinch: "Armed struggle, or let us call it resistance, is the legitimate right of any occupied people, including, of course, Palestinians. There is no arguing about that. The difference rather concerns the means to resistance. The right to resist is sacrosanct, not the means. Inter-Palestinian debate therefore centres on the means. And the interests of Palestinians are believed to lie in giving political channels a chance." A valid view, it remains a far cry from the insurgent atmosphere in which Abu Zayda grew up -- something that led to the decision to join Fatah secretly at the age of 17. He had spent his childhood roaming the streets of the Revolution Camp, as Jabalya -- a symbol of fierce resistance throughout Palestine -- came to be known. Nurtured on tales of martyrdom and heroism, Abu Zayda was frequently arrested for organising resistance activities, storing arms and training young men from all of the Gaza Strip to fight; Israeli forces would just as frequently barge into his home. And if the means to resistance is an issue of contention among the various Palestinian factions now engaged on the scene, the detainees' dossier for which he is responsible under the present cabinet is "the only issue on which they agree". Nor does Abu Zayda lack for first-hand experience in this regard. He was detained for a few hours at the age of 12 and for a few days at the age of 17; then, finally, for 12 interminable years starting on 3 October 1981. He sounds qualified indeed to lead the battle to free over 8,500 Palestinians now detained in Israeli jails. While the Israeli authorities classify them as "administrative prisoners" held without charge, "security prisoners" who undermine the peace or "political prisoners" associated with "terrorist organisations", Palestinians reject the underlying notion of "blood on their hands -- regardless", conceiving of the detainees in question, rather, as prisoners of war, and demanding their release on every peace-deal agenda they propose. "I'm extremely happy that this is now a central issue in the political game," Abu Zayda declares. "It will only lead to greater negotiating leverage on that front. We can't be talking peace while Israel continues to hold thousands of prisoners. All those with experience of detention, like me, couldn't possibly accept a peace that does not provide for releasing Palestinians in Israeli jails. And so it must be linked to developments in the negotiations. If progress is to be made, the detainees must be freed. Any agreement," he says vehemently, "must incorporate the release of Palestinians..." Since the Oslo Accords, where it was but a minor, confidence-building matter, the issue of detainees has acquired a remarkable centrality -- as evidenced in Palestinian Authority Chairman Abu Mazen's talks with Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon at the Sharm El-Sheikh Summit last February. Ignoring the thorny issues of Jerusalem, settlements and refugees, the summit focussed on security issues -- a primary Israeli concern -- one direct outcome of which was the Palestinian drive to free detainees. Yet Israel employed this to exert pressure on Palestinians. In Abu Zayda's view, "Israel is trying to market the idea that these detainees are terrorists, denying their legitimate right to resisting occupation -- and so making it a security matter devoid of political connotations". And the minister's is no easy task: not only must he manoeuvre his way around the Israeli side, he must handle the threat, made by some factions, to break the pledge of peace made in Cairo last March; it is the issue of detainees that these factions consistently bring to the attention of their government as a pretext for violence. Throw in the pressure exerted by the detainees' families, the struggle to lobby for improving prison conditions and rehabilitation programmes -- and you have a challenging daily job indeed, one that incorporates a humanitarian as well as a political agenda. But managing the affairs of detainees, to Abu Zayda, is nothing new. During his last eight years of imprisonment, he acted as the elected spokesman for fellow detainees, no matter which prison he happened to be in. Operating within a hierarchical structure based on internal regulations governing all aspects of life -- including, that is, relations among the various political organisations to which detainees belonged -- the young leader became a symbol of the national movement in prison communities. Such activism was no coincidence. Rather, it was part of a multi-dimensional plan this future-looking prisoner set out as he resigned himself to prolonged confinement. Physical exercise became a daily routine. "I was a professional tennis, ping-pong and basketball player, and where facilities were unavailable I would use my bunk as a springboard -- just to strain my body a little..." Abu Zayda was also a chess champion, but when he was doing neither chess nor sport he learned Hebrew -- a language in which he would, in due course, become fluent. "I had to understand the language of the enemy," he explains. "Mostly, I wanted to know how Israelis see us in their books, their literature, newspapers and the media. And it was very beneficial for me, altogether; I believe it actually contributed to the evolution of my political personality." It was during the last year of the Intifada, in 1993 -- this also happened to be the peak of the peace process, a time when Palestinian-Israeli communication intensified -- that Abu Zayda was discharged. By then, he had acquired a reputation as a specialist in Israeli affairs and Zionist thought. In less than one month after his release, he took charge of the Palestinian negotiators' Gaza office external affairs programme. Soon after that, he became head of the Israeli desk at the Ministry of Planning and International Cooperation, before moving onto the post of deputy foreign minister in 1999, a position he held until his appointment in the present cabinet in February 2005. It was during those 10 years that Abu Zayda developed as a member of the Palestinian Liberation Organisation's (PLO) non- official negotiating team. His knowledge and reading of Hebrew proved handy, and so, eventually, did a master's degree in conflict resolution from Bradford University, UK. Being an official negotiator and Second Track diplomat taught him the difference between both sides of the conflict: "In Israel there is an institution, a system and enormous resources. There is investment in expertise. Nevertheless, rarely does an Israeli understand anything of Palestinians other than intelligence briefings. And they know it's a weakness on their part." In his opinion the Palestinian conflict with Israel is not about arguments and counterarguments. Rather, it is a power struggle with regional and global dimensions that will only be resolved through international involvement: something we might as well accept, he implies. "But this doesn't mean that the Palestinian negotiator shouldn't be working to improve his capabilities. I can tell you, though, there's a difference between the negotiator of 1994 and that of 2005. We now have a systematic method involving experts on relevant issues." In the middle of all this, miraculously, it seems, Abu Zayda had found the time to deepen his academic expertise in Israeli politics. As I looked at him his face beamed with all the accomplishment, pride and relief of a PhD candidate out of his viva-voce. "I have no time for messing around:" the catch phrase most characteristic of Abu Zayda. As he raised his left eye brow and, smiling, described obtaining his doctoral degree as "one of the challenges in my life -- an incredible feeling of surmounting challenge". For the last six months prior to his nomination to the cabinet, Abu Zayda was based at the Exeter University in the South West of England, laboriously tracing the changing perceptions of Jerusalem in Zionist thought in preparation for his doctoral thesis. Always the first to arrive on campus in the morning, his working day regularly ended with 7pm Hebrew news, to which he listened on his earphones. Snacking on sesame bars and a daily swim were his only indulgences. They were enough for him to sit at his laptop and write, oblivious of noise or human presence, for hours on end. His colleagues envied his discipline. "I spent 12 years in prison," he comments nonchalantly by way of explanation. What about his most difficult moment, then? "Being in Exeter," he says without thinking, "while Israeli tanks invaded Jabalya."
