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What does it mean to be humanised: An analysis

October 19, 2024 at 12:45 pm

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

To be humanised is to be recognised as worthy of life, respect and the fundamental right to be seen and heard. Yet, for Arabs, this acknowledgement has persistently been withheld, rendering their humanity invisible in the global narrative.

Arabs have long been cast beneath the weight of dehumanising labels—“terrorists,” “violent,” “oppressive,” “uncivilised.” These narratives, woven into the very fabric of Western media and culture, strip away our humanity.

This is the legacy of Orientalism, a concept defined by Edward Said, the Palestinian-American scholar and activist. He described it as the lens through which the West distorts the East, painting us as exotic, backwards and uncivilised, all to justify its own dominance.

The lingering impact of Orientalism remains, and in our desire to dismantle every stereotype the West has forced upon us, we find ourselves yearning to become like it. We believe that if we speak its language, share its educational background and consume what it consumes, we may finally be seen as worthy—perhaps even a little more human. Or so we thought.

A stark example of this obscured reality is the ongoing genocide in Gaza. As I scroll through social media, a platform that gives the people of Gaza a chance to be seen and heard, it’s clear that after 12 months of war, we are witnessing ethnic cleansing. Yet, despite this, people are still pleading, begging viewers not to scroll past and asking for donations to their cause. Even Palestinian children, speaking at a press conference in Gaza, were forced to plead for protection in English, desperate to be understood by the world, in particular, the Western world.

This act of speaking in English—a language not their own—reflects the painful reality that Palestinians must conform to the standards of the Global North just to be acknowledged. Their cries, if spoken in Arabic, might fall on deaf ears, for it is not enough to suffer; they must articulate their suffering in a language that the world is willing to hear. This begs the question: what does it truly mean to be humanised if one must strip away their identity to be seen as human at all?

Through the lens of Palestine, the question of humanisation takes on an urgent and poignant meaning. The Palestinian experience reveals that the struggle to be humanised is not just about being seen but about being recognised in one’s own truth.

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For Palestinians, humanisation has indeed been conditional—tied to their ability to fit Western narratives, whether through language, media portrayals or appeals to shared values that the Global North deems acceptable. A striking example is Bisan Owada’s series for AJ+, where she documents her daily life under Israel’s bombardment, often having to convey her story in ways that resonate with Western audiences.

This reflects the broader issue: Palestinian voices are only acknowledged when they align with global powers’ moral comfort. For instance, the necessity for Palestinians to speak in English or frame their suffering within Western frameworks highlights this conditionality.

Moreover, Palestinian narratives rooted in their own culture, language and experiences—especially when expressed in Arabic—are frequently disregarded or mistranslated, sometimes to dangerous degrees.

A poignant example of this occurred when Israeli Defense Forces at Al-Rantisi Children’s Hospital in Gaza misinterpreted a sheet of paper written in Arabic. They assumed it contained a list of Hamas members, but in reality, it merely listed the days of the week. This misreading speaks volumes about how deeply language and cultural misunderstandings contribute to dehumanisation. Palestinians, speaking in their native language and living their everyday realities, are often seen through a lens of fear or suspicion, making their humanity visible only when it fits the established narrative.

Through this lens, we see that humanisation, as it relates to Palestine, is a fractured concept. It becomes clear that true recognition of Palestinian humanity can only come when they are seen as complete beings—not only as victims, but as people with their own culture, language and right to self-determination.

The dehumanisation of Palestinians reflects a broader pattern that impacts Arabs across the world. The portrayal of Arabs as violent, backwards or inferior is not limited to the context of Palestine; it seeps into global narratives about the Arab world. Whether in media, politics or public discourse, Arabs are often reduced to caricatures—devoid of complexity, individuality and humanity. This dehumanisation transcends borders, making it easier for Western powers to justify military interventions, political oppression and the silencing of Arab voices.

Across the Middle East, Arabs face a similar struggle for recognition. From Iraq and Syria to Yemen and Lebanon, narratives painting Arabs as perpetual threats or victims perpetuate this dehumanisation. In Western media, Arab suffering is often overshadowed or diminished unless framed in ways that suit geopolitical interests. Even in diaspora communities, Arabs confront the burden of having to constantly prove their worth, navigating stereotypes that follow them wherever they go.

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The impact is profound. This dehumanisation denies Arabs the right to define their own identity, history and future. It creates a world where Arab voices are only acknowledged if they conform to dominant narratives, while their struggles for justice and freedom are either overlooked or dismissed. This global phenomenon renders Arabs, like Palestinians, as less deserving of empathy, less worthy of protection and ultimately less human in the eyes of the world. We see this play out in Lebanon today, where the dehumanisation of Palestinians in Gaza has extended into another Arab nation, perpetuating a cycle of disregard for Arab lives.

By broadening the conversation from Palestine to the wider Arab experience, it becomes clear that this form of dehumanisation is deeply entrenched. It is a legacy of colonialism, Orientalism and power imbalances that persist in global systems. To combat this, there must be a collective effort to reframe how Arabs are perceived—not as objects of pity or fear, but as complex, whole individuals with their own stories, struggles and humanity.

True humanisation for Arabs, including Palestinians, requires dismantling the structures that perpetuate their dehumanisation and recognising them on their own terms. This means acknowledging Arab identity without forcing them to fit Western norms, such as the expectation for Arabs in the media to distance themselves from their culture to appear “civilised”.

Historical recognition is also key, as the long-standing impact of colonialism across the Arab world, from the Sykes-Picot Agreement to ongoing conflicts, is often erased or minimised in global narratives. For example, the struggles of Iraqis post-invasion or the humanitarian crisis in Yemen are frequently framed through Western geopolitical interests rather than the voices and experiences of Arabs themselves.

In essence, being humanised is to be seen in the entirety of one’s identity, history and rights. Arabs, including Palestinians, deserve to be regarded not through the distorted lenses of terrorism, resistance or oppression, but as whole human beings—worthy of empathy, justice and respect on their own terms, in their own land and in their own voice.

Without this recognition, the concept of humanisation remains but a flicker, incomplete and conditional, a mere shadow of the profound dignity that is their rightful due.

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The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.