Violence Against Women in the Context of War

Method

During ethnographic research conducted in Lebanon in 1998-2007, ⁴ I asked Lebanese Shi’i and Palestinian refugee women about types of violence in which they have been involved or to which they have been subjected during the Lebanese civil war and Israeli invasions (1975-1990), the Israeli occupation of part of southern Lebanon (1978-2000), and the brief Israel-Hizbullah war (July-August, 2006). Although Lebanon is supposedly now in a postconflict phase of peace building and reconstruction, tensions and insecurities remain, especially for Palestinian refugee communities whose future is highly uncertain. The method I used to gather information was in-depth interviews, based on questionnaires, and in a few cases, small focus groups. To locate women willing to be interviewed, I relied on personal contacts in Lebanon ⁵ and contacts made through various organizations (nongovernmental organizations, political groupings, academic institutions, and charities). During the course of eight fieldwork visits to Lebanon, I collected details of participants’ lived experiences. I began by seeking to understand how Palestinian refugee women in Lebanon and Lebanese Shi’i women distinguish between victimization and agency, by asking them about their own experiences of violence. What strategies have they developed for survival? Do practices of “internal patriarchy” inhibit their ability to resist the violence perpetrated against them by enemies from outside the community?

To draw meaningful conclusions, I needed to access as broad a cross-section of women as possible, rather than restricting the process to self-declared activists. Therefore, I took care to ensure that there were representatives from urban, rural, and refugee camp settings, well educated and less educated, women in paid employment and homemakers, the politically active and those who feel alienated from or uninterested in formal political processes, pious women and those who regard themselves as secular, feminists, and “traditional” women, of different ages, socioeconomic classes, and backgrounds. I aimed to talk not only to women who consider themselves articulate or have already had dealings with foreign researchers but also to those who may feel they “have nothing to say” or those whose voices are not usually heard. In the Palestinian case, I met women living in camps all over Lebanon and others who do not reside in camps. In total, I interviewed more than 100 women and some men, including those engaged in political activities; representatives of international and nongovernmental organizations; academics; women who describe themselves as “housewives”; medical personnel; ex-prisoners; students; UNRWA ⁶ employees; members of the GUPW ⁷ and other political groups; and women who have been injured, either physically or psychologically, as a result of armed conflict. In terms of age, the youngest was 15½ and the oldest more than 80 years old; they came from diverse educational backgrounds (some were unschooled, while others had advanced university degrees). Women in the camps spoke about their memories of the past, their awareness of violence against their community, their own experiences of violence and conflict and their hopes for the future. Frequently, they set their individual narratives within the larger context of the Palestinian national struggle. My attempt to glean information about domestic violence was less successful. Individuals were understandably reluctant to discuss such personal matters with a stranger. However, a few did refer to this type of violence, either directly or obliquely; in addition, representatives of several local women’s and community organizations attested, with examples and anecdotes, that such violence certainly exists in the camps. Local camp women, too, alluded to violent behavior, which they have overheard or been told about.

In the Lebanese Shi’i community, I interviewed a similar number of women and some men, in Beirut, in towns and villages in the south of the country, and in the Bekaa Valley, ranging in age from 19 to almost 80 years old. I interviewed leaders and female members of the two main Shi’i political factions, Amal and Hizbullah; mothers and widows of martyrs; former political prisoners; women who were involved in nonsectarian, peace-building activities during the civil war; civil servants, journalists, academics, and doctors. As in the Palestinian case study, my questions were designed not only to focus respondents’ attention on the issue of “violence,” broadly defined, but also to give them space to speak as they wished about their experiences during the war and Israeli invasions and occupation. They too tended to contextualize their recollections within the broader narrative of national struggle and resistance. In this community, there was an even greater unwillingness to touch on the sensitive area of domestic violence. Many women simply denied that it existed (it was referred to as “something that takes place elsewhere”); however, my research was enriched by the testimonies of local academics and NGO workers.

The mode of interaction, whether in a group setting or with one individual at a time, and the location of the meeting had some effect on the shape of the interview. Most of the interviews lasted between 1 and 2 hr; a few less than 1 hr and the longest for almost 4 hr. The majority of interviews were conducted in Arabic, with the help of an interpreter (in almost every case a member of the local community who was known to the woman being interviewed), and usually took place in the woman’s home although some were held in community centers or the local offices of nongovernmental organizations. Although I was able to talk to several of the women more than once, most interviews were accomplished in a single meeting. In almost all cases, I spoke to one woman at a time; however, there were a few meetings with groups of women, such as university students and women participating in NGO projects.

Women and Multiple Violences in the Context of Peace and War

Umm Najib is 57 years old; she and her family are from the southern Lebanese town of Bint Jbeil and they now live in Kuwait. In 2006, during the brief summer war between Israel and Hizbullah, her eldest son, a fighter with the resistance, was killed or, as she put it, “martyred.” When I met her the following year, although she cried throughout our meeting, Umm Najib continually affirmed that she was proud of what her son had achieved. The resistance, she added, is a pride for all Lebanese and she supports it wholeheartedly. Her martyred son had two sons of his own and she expressed the wish that they would follow in their father’s footsteps. ⁸ My meeting with Umm Najib was revealing on two levels: first, although she was clearly devastated by the loss of a beloved son, she articulated her feelings in terms of pride and defiance, as did other women I met whose sons or husbands had been killed during the conflict with Israel; and, second, the suppression of maternal feelings can be interpreted as a form of violence against women. Shalhoub-Kevorkian (2003) has highlighted the portrayal in some media coverage of the mothers of martyrs as “lucky to be chosen as such mothers,” whereas, in reality, these women often feel “the need to share their pain, loss, and trauma rather than ‘their happiness”’ (p. 396). There are parallels here with the experiences of Palestinian refugee Umm Fawaz; both women suffered distinctly gendered forms of violence and both identified Israeli aggression as the primary source of violence experienced by women in Lebanon.

But it is by no means the only source. Lebanese Shi’i and Palestinian refugee women are subjected to multiple forms of violence, not all of which can be ascribed to conflict. The connection between the process of war making and violence against women is complex. Feminists argue that, although violence against the whole community intensifies during times of conflict (Steans, 1998), much of the violence that women suffer is little different from their experiences during “peace time.” Indeed, “a gender analysis suggests that it is meaningless to make a sharp distinction between peace and war” (Cockburn, 2004, p. 43), or to separate the public from the private. Instead, we should view war as a “continuum of violence” that “runs through the social, the economic and the political, with gender relations penetrating all these forms of relations” (Cockburn, 2004, p. 43). This is a helpful way of understanding that we cannot neatly categorize violence; rather, there are linkages and overlaps, as revealed by the stories of Umm Fawaz and Umm Najib.

My article finds the proposition that “violence is a gendered phenomenon within the context of patriarchal social relations” (Jacobs, Jacobson, & Marchbank, 2000, p. 2) to be a useful starting point. However, while violence is “fundamentally concerned with power” (Moser & Clark, 2001, p. 6), it can take a variety of forms that both inhibit and empower women. In Arab-Muslim societies, as elsewhere, “cultural beliefs about the role of women in society can also accelerate or moderate the levels of violence used against women as well as its impact” (McWilliams, 1998, p. 117). For Lebanese and Palestinian women, both the external colonial power and the internal patriarchal/masculine power “brought about a reaction that turned women’s bodies and lives into sites of resisting oppression” (Shalhoub-Kevorkian, 2005, p. 162). A key question in the context of this article is what effect does the tension between, on one hand, the need to resist internal oppression and, on the other, a sense of obligation to contribute to the national liberation struggle have on women? My interviews with women in Lebanon, especially Palestinian camp women, revealed frequent overlaps; in a single interview, a woman might refer to the injustice of exile, the harshness of camp life, the cruelty of the enemy, and the intolerance of some social practices.

We can gain a clearer idea of this through Farida’s analysis of “positive” and “negative” forms of participation and how these highlight different types of violence. Asma is 35 years old; she is married with four children and lives in Rashidiyya camp in southern Lebanon. She told me how her childhood had been “full of fear” as a result of the “bombing and destruction” caused by the 1982 Israeli invasion. In recent years, she was able to obtain a loan from an NGO program for women and this has enabled her to open a shop selling coffee, soft drinks, and chocolates in the camp. Asma stressed the psychological aspect; her husband, she said, is happy because of their improved economic situation and it has had a positive impact on all the family. ⁹ Asma’s account demonstrates how her reluctant involvement in conflict, as a victim of Israel’s aggression, together with an uncomfortable home life caused by poverty and lack of hope, was ameliorated by her own efforts to improve her family’s living conditions.

This relatively optimistic account is circumscribed by larger feelings of injustice. Palestinian refugee women exist in a brutalized environment, which, although it provides a degree of protection, sometimes acts as a breeding ground for violence. Umm Samir in Bourj el-Barajne camp remarked that her husband’s violence was “a humiliation” for her; she wondered why it happened and feared there was something wrong with her. ¹⁰ According to Manal, an NGO worker in one of the camps, many people believe that men have a right to beat their wives, as it is written in the Qur’an. But, she added, violence against women is not just physical; it is also psychological. ¹¹ Farida agreed that the current situation exacerbates violence against women; if a man is unemployed and at home, she said, he will be nervous, angry, and may become violent. ¹² In times of conflict or instability, “normal” rules may cease to apply. This means that men may use external conflict as a justification for reinforcing their dominance over women. On the other hand, women are regarded as guardians of the home and, therefore, providers of a safe domain. But this very role means that men feel able to abuse women because they feel safe and frustrated at the same time. Violence may be present in the home because the climate of fear and powerlessness created by the conflict has a demoralizing effect on men, the principal defenders of their communities. These accounts illustrate the “continuum of violence.”

In her discussion of “male rituals of resistance” during the first Palestinian intifada, Peteet (1994) argues that the Israeli tactic of using beatings and torture to control and intimidate young Palestinian men gave rise instead to “an oppositional political agency”; rather than discouraging the men, these “were experiences of transformation and empowerment, not humiliation” (p. 33). By inverting the “shame” of violent Israeli punishment, the men were engaging in “a creative and dynamic act of resistance” (Peteet, 1994, p. 31). Parallels may be drawn between these men and the responses of Palestinian refugee women and Shi’i women in Lebanon. Umm Fawaz, for example, although her captors attempted to demean her through torture, threat, and humiliation, turned her experience into “a creative act of resistance.” However, these experiences also tended to reaffirm asymmetrical gender relations and sometimes led to an increase in domestic violence. Peteet (1994) suggests that some “men who were subjected to [such treatment] return home and inflict violence upon women” (p. 45).

There has been much general theorizing about how men manage violent conflicts and women endure them, much of it relating to the broad themes of male power and female passivity (Elshtain 1995; Enloe 1988; Ridd & Callaway 1986), but this offers only a partial explanation of the complex dynamics of conflict, and simply equating women with passivity and victimization and men with action and decisiveness, is, as I have tried to show, a problematic categorization. The “separation of human values into categories of masculine and feminine, as a way of making social and cultural distinctions between men and women” is believed by some feminist theorists to be part of the explanation for “the perpetuation of violence” (Vickers, 1993, p. 106). This perspective, while valid, seems to be incomplete. Assigning women “a passive apolitical role” tends to reinforce “the status quo of existing gender power structures” (Richter-Devroe, 2009, p. 178). The “separation” of male and female values also disregards the notion of the “nobility” of the struggle as a cause for which men and women are prepared to sacrifice their lives. According to conventional understandings, the notion of “sacrifice” is constructed in ways that appear to privilege masculinity. But I wish to challenge such understandings and to suggest that it may be more fruitful to construct a larger framework that takes account not simply of women’s traditional status but also men’s vulnerability and their frequent inability to control the external situation.

Despite their strengths as individuals and members of communities, violent conflict and its aftermath are likely to traumatize women and unsettle their sense of identity. Trauma has been described as “a shattering experience that disrupts or even threatens to destroy experience in the sense of an integrated or at least viably articulated life” (LaCapra, 2007, p. 206). LaCapra distinguishes between “historical trauma” and “structural trauma” (pp. 112-117), and suggests that an important difference between the two is that, “while historical trauma is susceptible to . . . working through, structural trauma cannot be directly changed or healed” (p. 187). Palestinians were subjected to “a shattering experience” in 1948 when they were violently uprooted from their homes and transformed into stateless exiles. Women’s narratives reveal “an internal disorder void of consolations” (Langer, 2007, p. 193). It is a form of “structural trauma” that cannot be healed. Chronic abuse tends to cause “serious psychological harm,” and it is likely that Palestinians in Lebanon, who have become “entrapped in prolonged abusive situations” (Herman, 2004, p. 369), are suffering from a trauma that cannot be healed. Lebanese Shi’a, on the other hand, while they have experienced “historical trauma” in the shape of sectarian conflict, invasion, and the destruction of their homes, have been “working through” the process of healing through the use of religious-based resistance although here again women are at a disadvantage in the sense that they do not control the decision-making process or assert meaningful control over their daily lives. At the same time, their feelings of helplessness are balanced by a strong communal sense of solidarity and empowerment. But it is also the case that women’s experiences provide an “insight to the differential effect of trauma on women and men” (Shalhoub-Kevorkian, 2003, p. 396) in Lebanese and Palestinian societies. Nonetheless, in spite of the very real trauma afflicting their lives, women have been able to find ways of resisting and surviving, and it is clear that both Palestinian and Lebanese women are playing significant roles in their respective national struggles. With varying degrees of success, they have negotiated a course between traditional constraints and the demands of the liberatory project.

Palestinian Refugee Women in Lebanon

Palestinian refugee women in Lebanon are caught up in a complex mesh of violence, much of which results from their traumatic dispossession in 1948 and the various conflicts that have beset them since their arrival in Lebanon, but some of which may be attributed to traditional practices. The refugees are located within a highly restricted sphere: in terms of actual space, the overcrowded refugee camps; and, as a result of economic and national deprivation, the space to develop their potential. They lack rights and protection and suffer from impoverishment and insecurity. Palestinian resistance started to develop in the 1960s under the auspices of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) and women’s roles increased as cracks appeared in “the seemingly solid structure of the sexual division of labour” (Peteet, 1991, p. 3). In common with national liberation movements elsewhere, the system of political management developed by the Palestinian leadership has tended to be “male-dominated, in many ways patriarchal” and, while it did not exclude women altogether, the ideal of “Palestinian-ness” tended to celebrate male activism. However, it was also compelled to make a space for women. In 2003, I met Abir in Rashidiyya camp in southern Lebanon. She told me that in the early 1980s she belonged to a revolutionary cell of young men and women who were fighting Israel. She was arrested and spent 13 days being tortured by Israeli soldiers. When the Israelis arrested her, she said, it gave her the power and determination to keep fighting. “The world calls Palestinians terrorists,” she added, “but the opposite is true; it is our land.” ¹³ Her account fits well with Peteet’s (1994) theory of “cultural resistance to domination” (p. 31) in the sense that, far from discouraging her from participating in the revolutionary struggle, Abir’s ordeal endowed her with a kind of honor in her society.

Following the 1982 Israeli invasion and the forced departure of the PLO from Lebanon, the situation for Palestinian refugees deteriorated. After the Oslo Accords of 1993 between the PLO and the government of Israel, the situation grew even worse. Umm Wissam in Bourj el-Barajne in Beirut camp recalled that

life was better before 1982 because of the revolution but, after, things got very bad; there was no one to defend us and life became more difficult. When the PLO was in Lebanon, it helped with medical and other expenses. ¹⁴

The so-called “ordinary” women of the camps experience, in their own words, a broad range of violence, and I want to use their understandings of violence to develop a working definition. My aim is to increase an appreciation of the tension between the various forms of violence suffered by women and their ability to contribute to the national struggle. What does “violence” mean to women who have endured such extremes of suffering? When Palestinian camp women speak about violence, they tend to see it primarily in terms of violence inflicted on them by outsiders. They define the enemy first and foremost as Israel, which, they say, stole their land, then pursued them over the border into Lebanon and made their lives a misery by constant harassment, including air raids, the bombing of their camps, and invasions. Many of the women I interviewed during the course of my research were traumatized, both by the violent circumstances surrounding their flight from Palestine in 1948 and the hopeless conditions of their daily lives.

Women related to me how Israel has massacred Palestinians in Lebanon, tortured them, disabled them, imprisoned them, and terrorized their children. It refuses the Palestinian right of return and has tried to obliterate Palestinian national identity by destroying the PLO. Women evoke their memories of various Israeli incursions in graphic detail, including the impact on them, their families, and the larger community. They describe the Israelis as “monsters,” “alien,” and “horrible.” The identification of Israel as the source of violence and suffering was the most clearly defined aspect of all that is distressing in their lives. Umm Usama, a widow with four children, described the start of the Israeli invasion in 1982:

I was at home. There was an air raid so I took my children and went to the shelter. The house next door was bombed. My mother and sister were in another house and this was also bombed. I was very scared. Life became difficult. We had to go to the bakery but it could take half a day to get bread. The Israelis bombed the camps for three months. ¹⁵

Layla, who was born in Palestine and now lives in Bourj el-Barajne camp, also recalled this period. “The Israeli invasion was a tragedy,” she said, “and many people were killed and injured. During the camp sieges [in the mid-1980s], people did not have food; they suffered from hunger to the point where they almost could not survive.” ¹⁶

The Lebanese state is also regarded by many refugees in negative terms. Its treatment of the Palestinians, especially its refusal to grant them basic rights, is experienced by women in the camps as a form of violence. Most of the women to whom I spoke identified areas of distress and discomfort in their present circumstances, which make it impossible for them to lead lives of dignity and self-respect. They complain that Lebanese government policies prevent them from earning a livelihood, having access to adequate housing or satisfactory educational facilities for their children, and from enjoying a reasonable standard of health care. Umm Tareq, who is 74 years old and lives in the Sabra area of Beirut, told me that her husband and three of her five sons were killed in the Tal al-Zaatar massacre (in 1976). “The Lebanese government regards Palestinians as strangers,” she remarked, “and the international community is doing nothing to resolve the Palestinian problem.” ¹⁷

In common with women all over the world, Palestinian refugees experience varying degrees of violence in their personal lives which, as I have argued, should be viewed as part of a “continuum of violence.” Harsh living conditions in the camps and the high rate of unemployment among men have led to an apparent increase in domestic violence. Several women who work in the camps referred to the problem of gender-based violence in Palestinian refugee communities and possible reasons to account for it. It raises the question of how much male violence against women can be explained by “the patriarchal order that still governs the region” (Hoyek, Sidawi, & Abou Mrad, 2005, p. 111), and how much by the desperate conditions endured by the whole community.

Farida, the Beirut-based NGO worker, commented that the current situation means that the future of the refugees is uncertain and this produces a lot of stress. ¹⁸ Hanan in Bourj el-Barajne camp observed that, during the war, there were many examples of early marriage for girls; this was to protect girls—a lot of girls were not in school and this was a problem for families, so they preferred to find a suitable husband. But this led to high divorce rates which, she said, is another form of violence. ¹⁹ Zahira, a 19-year-old woman in Bourj el-Barajne camp, confirmed such pressures exist. “Girls do not have freedom,” she remarked; “there is discrimination against girls. Women used to be more active but now girls are afraid they may not get married; some marry at 13 or 15 years of age.” ²⁰ Maha, a woman working with teenage girls in Shatila camp agreed that early marriage is still a problem in the camps. Because of the economic situation, she said, “girls tend to marry early and to marry family members, but this is a bad thing and needs to change.” ²¹

Few women were willing to speak directly to me about domestic violence. However, a study of domestic violence among the Palestinian refugee communities of Lebanon carried out by Association Najdeh in 2000, revealed that, in the sample households, ²² 29.6% of wives had experienced physical violence and a further 56.9% were the recipients of verbal abuse. The researcher suggests that stress is “the major precipitating factor” in violent relationships and this is related to income, health status, education, the age gap between husband and wife, and family sizes (Khalidi, 2000, pp. 26, 19). Another public opinion survey ²³ discovered that women express acceptance of violence against women more often than men; 40% of women and 47% of men oppose the beating of women under all the conditions listed in the survey ²⁴ (Ugland, 2003). Manal, an NGO worker in Beirut, observed that violence against Palestinian women in Lebanon is not just physical but also psychological. Sometimes women find themselves in a difficult position. She gave an example of a very respected woman whose husband died in the war, leaving her to raise five children. When she lost her cleaning job, she became frustrated and, in desperation, turned to prostitution. ²⁵ The evidence suggests that the brutalized environment of camp life is likely to create suitable conditions for the emergence of varying layers of domestic abuse, but they also generate shared feelings of suffering as a basis for communal action, and this is where we can discern tensions in women’s response mechanisms.

Refugee women’s narratives illustrate that, while violence has been instrumental in forging a Palestinian identity, it has also produced conditions of empowerment for women; by all accounts, women were an integral part of the resistance movement in Lebanon in the 1970s. For example, after the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in 1982, many Palestinian men were imprisoned,

so all the responsibility landed on women. . . . More than 40% of Palestinian houses were destroyed after the invasion so women had to try and fix these problems . . . they had to reconstruct the houses for their families. They also had to negotiate to get their husbands and sons released; it was too expensive to hire a lawyer so women were obliged to find jobs to feed their children. This proves the power of women, solving problems in difficult circumstances. ²⁶

Lamia in Ain el-Hilwe camp recalled with pride women’s work during this period:

Palestinian women were solely responsible for their families and society because all the men were in prison. The camp was evacuated of its population. Women in these places were cooking, washing clothes—it provided a basic level of survival. The houses in the camp had been destroyed. Women started to clean the camp. Slowly, they were able to rebuild the houses so that the families could return. ²⁷

I would argue that claims of violence and war as spaces in which male power can flourish at the expense of women’s rights need to be modified to take account, on one hand, of the dismal and powerless situation in which the refugees, men and women, currently find themselves and, on the other hand, of the possibility, as the narratives above illustrate, that “the power of women” may well develop, even in the most difficult circumstances.

Shi’i Women in Lebanon

Although both communities suffered greatly during the course of the Lebanese civil war, various Israeli invasions, and the Israeli occupation of the south, the experiences of Palestinian refugees in Lebanon and Lebanese Shi’is differ significantly. While Palestinians, despite their long residence in Lebanon, continue to be “temporary” and frequently unwelcome visitors, the Shi’a are engaged citizens with a full stake in their country’s future. Their identity is Lebanese first and foremost, although the trend of Shi’i resistance since the 1970s has had a powerful and liberating impact on all sections of the community. Thus, when talking to the women associated with the political groups Amal and Hizbullah, to nonaffiliated Shi’i women, or to women in the villages of southern Lebanon, one by no means gains an impression of an oppressed group. On the contrary, these women seem to have made very clear choices and, on the whole, are comfortable with their identity. This identity, nonetheless, is still a relatively new one. It emerged from a war situation, forged by a combination of adversity, violence, and religious revival. Since the Israeli withdrawal from southern Lebanon in 2000, the resistance has moved to consolidate its achievements as a movement of national liberation for all Lebanese; while it continues to protect the country’s southern border, it is also making claims for a larger role in political life.

Many women told me about what they did and what happened to them during the civil war. In the words of a senior civil servant who worked with the Higher Relief Committee to provide for displaced people all over Lebanon,

I moved between east and west and was exposed to harassment from the militias. I was exposed to bombs. I was arrested for a few hours. But I continued to believe in the unity of Lebanon. The unity of the family was the main support to the unity of the country. It made people able to face war. ²⁸

According to an academic, very often “women were alone with their children; they were forced to take responsibility and, therefore, became more powerful.” ²⁹ This feeling of becoming “more powerful” was much repeated during my interviews with Lebanese Shi’i women. Jamila, who worked as a volunteer during the war said, “Before, no one could imagine they could survive and bear such a war. But there is something dormant in every person and this comes out when it is needed.” ³⁰ Her words echo the Palestinian narrative of responding to difficult circumstances.

People living in the predominantly Shi’i south of the country suffered particularly badly as a result of the area’s proximity to Israel and the Israeli occupation of a large swathe of southern Lebanese territory from 1978 to 2000. For example, Roula in the border town of Bint Jbeil told me that her

impression of the Israelis is of a relationship between subjected and oppressors. Some people, including women, were arrested, especially in the period before the liberation. People felt they were not free psychologically. Women were not able to practice their rights. Everything was restricted, even hospital treatment. I did not see my brothers for two years. We weren’t able to be together as a family during feasts. The whole occupation was bad, but the worst part was just before the liberation. The occupiers did anything they wanted. People had no choice but to cope with this reality. ³¹

Others described this period as “living in terror.” Umm Farid, a married teacher, said,

We were worried about our families and our children. We worried that the Israeli army would come to take our children . . . most of the people under occupation lost their rights and lost their freedom of movement and freedom of speech. Israel liked to exercise arbitrary power, such as ordering people to leave their homes or preventing them from travelling to Beirut. ³²

These narratives illustrate the various forms of violence inflicted on women during the conflict, but they are, broadly speaking, types of violence that can be spoken aloud; they are reference points in a story of injustice and provide justification for resistance. When it comes to the violence of war, opinions are divided about its impact on women. According to an academic, “The resistance movement was very empowering for women. Lebanese women identify with men and, therefore, have pride in the resistance.” ³³ Another academic agreed that war “did not increase violence against women. On the contrary, it gave them a sort of power.” ³⁴ Part of the explanation for women’s feelings of empowerment can be attributed to the fact that they have not only survived but also their communal identity has been significantly enhanced.

During the Israeli occupation, approximately 200 Lebanese women were imprisoned in the notorious Khiam prison in southern Lebanon. Several former women prisoners have given accounts of their incarceration. In the words of one, “I was among those who rejected the indignity of occupation and preferred death rather than live in the shadow of a savage occupation that knew no mercy or compassion.” Following her attempt to assassinate the man she describes as “the head of the snake,” she was arrested and taken to the local station for questioning. After initial resistance, she recalls,

they threatened to kill me. . . . At the station, they began to question me . . . I made up my mind to deny any knowledge whatever the cost. They brought an instrument resembling an old-fashioned telephone and pulled two electrical cables from it, and said, “Now you will talk.” They were attached to my hands. They covered my face with a cloth. They turned on the electricity and I felt that this was the end of my life. I fell unconscious. (Nawal Qasim Baydun, quoted in Maramil & Asi, 2000, pp. 16-19)

Others tell similar stories of torture and intimidation. But they are stories that do not expose the teller to shame; on the contrary, they are told with pride and defiance.

Accounts of ex-prisoners also reveal something of the solidarity among female prisoners:

All the girls were like one family; everyone tried to sacrifice for the other. We taught each other, everyone teaching what they knew. . . . We never felt bored. We sang sometimes, in low voices. We learned verses from the Qur’an. We spent the time in prayer and supplication. (al-Hajj, p. 98)

Lina, who was released in 1991 as part of a prisoner exchange, expressed the view that

all good believers are resilient and their belief in God protects them. The Shi’a believe that the Prophet’s family are the leaders of the community and they were oppressed but were able to withstand it for the sake of Allah. . . . I have never regretted being tortured. ³⁵

After the liberation of the south, the Lebanese Council to Resist Violence Against Women, a listening and counseling center for women victims of violence, which was established in Beirut in 1997, tried to locate women ex-prisoners to identify their needs so that they could devise a program to reintegrate these women back into society. Despite the relatively positive accounts of Lina and other women, much remains unspoken. According to Dr Azzah Sharara Baydoun (2007), a lecturer at the Lebanese University,

Torn between maintaining an image of the “Heroine” portrayed by the general discourse and the media on the one hand, and dealing with the consequences of the horror they went through during their imprisonment on the other, these women ex-prisoners chose to remain silent.

Their silence can be explained by several factors: first, it was an ongoing strategy adopted during the occupation, “when talking was dangerous to themselves and to their families”; second, they are reluctant “to tell their families of the suffering and torture they had been subjected to, because they wished to spare [them] the unbearable . . . pain which would result from this knowledge”; and, third, to divulge details “of the daily attempts of their jailers to demean their sense of integrity may have been damaging to their self-esteem.” Dr Baydoun raises the question of the relationship between the women’s imprisonment and their status within the patriarchal gender system. She concludes that providing a space where these women can “speak out” is necessary both for the healing of the women themselves and for the larger process of justice and reconciliation (Baydoun, 2007). Her analysis highlights the complexity of women’s responses. While Lina’s assertion that she “never regretted being tortured” is a method of protecting the community, her private feelings may be more ambivalent.

As for Palestinian refugee women, resistance is much valued and both men and women who are punished for their resistance are considered heroic. However, on one hand, “heroism” has gender implications and, on the other, the presentation of heroism avoids the greyer area of private violence against women. Some Lebanese women argue that, unlike in the west, domestic violence is not a particularly serious problem in Lebanon. Violence within the family tends to be dismissed as a “private matter.” Fahmia, who lives in the south, insisted that

there is no violence against women in a town like this. Men have other outlets. Most women are workers and this has helped not to have violence at home. The woman like the man is earning money so it is harder for men to treat them badly. ³⁶

Umm Ali, also in the south, said she “knows of no violence against women in this area. It is not a big problem in Lebanon. Women can go to the shari’a court to complain if they are being ill treated by their husbands. They can get divorced.” ³⁷ The political parties Amal and Hizbuallh tended to support these assertions. In the words of Na’im Kassim, the deputy secretary-general of Hizbullah, “The ill treatment of women by men is a personal matter. The organization only advises men to change their behavior.” ³⁸ According to its spokeswoman,

Amal believes in respect for the human being. It refuses all violence against women. In true Islam, this sort of violence is a misunderstanding of women’s rights. Many organizations exist to tackle this problem, but it is not a big issue. Women need to be educated on this subject. . . . In Amal, we hold courses about women’s rights. ³⁹

Thus “violence against women” is placed squarely within a discourse of violence as inflicted by an outside enemy. However, this analysis is disputed by a woman academic:

Women are oppressed and this oppression is revealed through violence. In general, people in the south are poor; their social situation is not easy so violence is common, inside the home and out. It becomes part of the culture. People are not protected by the state so violence becomes normal. . . . Society should not accept violence against women, but many families tolerate it. . . . It is difficult to find a solution. It is a transition situation; women are demanding rights, but do not know how to express their rights. They are seeking a balance between autonomy and a warm, loving environment. ⁴⁰

Her observations are supported by an emerging “other side of the story.” Zoya Rouhana, director of the Lebanese Council to Resist Violence against Women, said that the Center “raised the issue of domestic violence, previously a taboo subject, as a social problem. Now many people are talking about such violence and no one would dare to speak out in favour of it.” ⁴¹ Evidence from my research confirms that the “private” side of violence remains largely unspoken in a society that prefers to focus on the less contested virtues of violence as heroism or resistance.

A clinical psychologist noted the

connection between the growing presence of women in the work force and domestic violence. In my work, I see victims of sexual abuse, who have witnessed violence in the home. Such violence takes place in all strata of society. It is to do with power but also a man’s sense of self-esteem and security. As women become more independent, they are no longer obliged to abide by the rules. These rules do not fit the role of women in modern societies and, therefore, an imbalance is created. ⁴²

These accounts by health professionals, social workers, and academics appear to be at odds with the idealized image of a community unified against a common enemy. However, it is likely that this image is necessary to sustain group solidarity.

As in the Palestinian camps, some Lebanese Shi’ women are of the opinion that men regard it as their right to hit women. According to one, men

may feel ashamed of beating their wives, but there is a tendency to believe that the woman “asked for it.” Men are supposed to have stronger sexual desire; if a wife does not respond to him sexually, the man will be forced to look outside the marriage for satisfaction. If the marriage breaks up, the wife is blamed. ⁴³

Said an academic,

The government will not interfere; [domestic violence] is regarded as a private matter in which the government has no business. When women were interviewed in the street, they said that sometimes women deserved to be beaten. There is an Arab saying that women need to be beaten to make them “sweeter.” The government maintains that, if a woman complains about violence, the police will take action. But this is very rare. ⁴⁴

This kind of explanation echoes Palestinian refugee women’s “acceptance” of violence against them.

Rape is even more of a taboo subject. Most people with whom I spoke were adamant that during the period of the Israeli occupation of the south, there was little or no rape. However, a woman in the south told me how, in 1987, when she was 14 years old, she was taken by the SLA ⁴⁵ and raped by one of its leaders. After the first incident, she was forced on many occasions, she related, to have sexual relations with this man. She insisted that “many girls” had the same experience as she did, but most “do not like to talk about it.” ⁴⁶ If a girl is sexually abused, she will find it difficult to get married or find a job; the community regards her as shameful and even as responsible in some way for what has happened to her. This was the only firsthand account I heard by any woman of being raped, either by the SLA or the Israelis, although several Palestinian camp women alluded to threats of rape and, during the massacres of Tal al-Za’ter (1975-1976) and Sabra and Shatila (1982), accounts of rape emerged. Moreover, knowledge of conflicts elsewhere leads me to suspect that some level of rape must have occurred, but the shame is so profound that it seems a tacit agreement exists to exclude it from the communal memory.

Conclusion

My article has explored the argument that abuse of the body “destroys identity” and, to test this assertion, I examined the roles and meanings of violence in the lives of Palestinian refugee women and Shi’i women in Lebanon. I discovered from the evidence of NGOs and researchers and obliquely from some of the women I interviewed that domestic violence is not uncommon in the two communities. Women are subjected to physical, psychological, and sexual violence. However, it is important to understand the reasons why such abuse occurs and also some of the steps being taken to combat it. In some societies, the honor of a community

is still closely tied to control of the sexual activity of women and girls. . . . Many men are accustomed to enforcing gender norms . . . through physical violence. . . . Such violence is often culturally . . . sanctioned. (Jefferson, 2004, p. 2)

Abuse of this kind is bound to have a detrimental effect on identity. But taking into account factors such as poverty and hopelessness, in the case of Palestinian refugee communities, and in both case studies, enforced powerlessness in the face of an intransigent enemy and also abuse of the male body in terms of killing, torture, and imprisonment, it is clear that some women are refusing the status of victim as it tends to “further encourage stereotypical beliefs about women as passive, vulnerable, and weak” (Shalhoub-Kevorkian, 2009, p. 47). In addition, given the increasing availability of education for women and girls and the growth of community-based organizations that teach women about the rights to which they are entitled, a change in attitudes is apparent.

Second, most of the women I interviewed, in both communities, stressed that the worst violence they face has come from external enemies, especially Israel. Cross-border attacks started in the decades following Israel’s creation and were particularly destructive in 1978, 1982, 1996, and 2006. Lebanese Shi’i and Palestinian women were victimized in a variety of ways, as illustrated by the narratives of my interviewees. However, rather than shaming them or breaking their spirit, Israeli violence reinforced models of resistance. The liberatory project was marked by the rise of the Palestinian Resistance Movement in the late 1960s and 1970s and by the emergence of the Lebanese Islamic resistance in the early 1980s. These developments marked a conscious intention to resist and had an empowering effect on both men and women.

By referring to the diverse stories told to me by Lebanese and Palestinian women, I have demonstrated that traumatic events, while they threaten both individual and communal identity, also strengthen solidarity and that some instances of violence can be reconfigured as “a creative and dynamic act of resistance.” In the face of overwhelming and long-term violence, women construct strategies for survival. For example, the former prisoner Umm Fawaz, whose harrowing ordeal was cited at the beginning of my article, concluded by telling me proudly how her disabled son, now an adult, has become active in the struggle to achieve rights for the handicapped. Umm Najib, whose son was killed in 2006, writes stories and poems and has written an account of her son’s life.