Jaffa’s times: Temporalities of dispossession and the advent of natives’ reclaimed time

Introduction

Jaffa city constituted a prime film location for dozens of international and Israeli movies during the 1970s and 1980s, primarily action films. In several cases—such as the American Delta Force (1986) ¹ —it served as an imagined war zone, slum settlement, or ruins. Although devoid of any reference to its true identity or its political or historical context, these films reflected, in a depressing way, a larger story that was unfolding, namely the ongoing endeavor to erase Jaffa’s Palestinian identity and history. The scenes featuring buildings being blown up did, in fact, show the actual demolition of Palestinian refugees’ houses. These acts echoed what had long been taking place off-screen, as roughly 70% of the houses of Al-’Ajami have been demolished since the Nakba (the 1948 War), including 3000 demolitions in the decade 1975–1985 alone (Shaqar, 1994: 27). This large-scale demolition was part of planning policies that embodied the destruction of historical neighborhoods and “freezing” (placing a ban on renovations), particularly in Al-’Ajami, in order to drive out their Palestinian inhabitants (Mazawi and Makhoul, 1991). Until the second half of the 1980s, the deterioration of the buildings was explained in the official discourse as a natural process of aging. Yet, when the neoliberal urban renewal commenced and old Palestinian houses were sold to rich Jewish investors and were renovated, this was presented as a normative, nonpolitical process of gentrification of an “authentic” space (Monterescu, 2015: 148).

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Figure 1.

Satellite images of a part of Al-’Ajami. The one on the right was taken in 1949 and the one on the left was taken in 1990. An air photo to Jaffa, P/53, 7398, 1949 and Jaffa, AM/225, 3008, 1990 retrieved from the Micha Granit Maps Library at the Department of Geography, Tel Aviv University.

In a symbolic restitutive act, the Palestinian film-maker, Kamal Ja’fari, in his movie Recollection (2015), created a collage of scenes from other works that had been shot in Jaffa over the years, while erasing the actors to underscore the ruination process to which the city had been subjected. Furthermore, he zoomed-in on the Jaffian inhabitants who passed by during filming or peeked from the windows of their houses, thus placing them at the center of the “new” scenes. Ja’fari’s act is arguably not merely a recollection of the past, but also an act of reclaiming it and turning it into a visible history. The focus on the Palestinian Jaffians, who constituted the punctum in these films, to use Barthes’ (1981) term—namely an unintended detail which poignantly subverts the intended meaning of a scene—raises questions as to their temporal and spatial experiences during the period in which their neighborhoods had been “frozen,” and beyond it. Moreover, once the focus is placed on the inhabitants, the ongoing attempts to displace them cease to be a temporal policy and become an essential factor affecting the various aspects of their lives. Therefore, dispossession ought to be investigated not as an event but as a process, which embodies intangible aspects alongside the visible ones. For instance, there might be a lived sense of pressure, uncertainty, and waiting caused by manipulations and delays on the part of the authorities and real estate companies (Sakizlioğlu, 2014). In this article, I shall particularly focus on this latter aspect of displacement: waiting. This has been presented in the literature as a prevalent experience of various disempowered groups in contexts of displacement, immigration, colonization, gentrification, unemployment, and so on (Bayart, 2007; Chakrabarty, 2000; Jeffrey, 2008). While the Palestinians of Jaffa have lived under several such conditions—displacement, settler colonialism, gentrification, and marginalization—this article will address the different modes of waiting, not according to the various forms of oppression, but rather as a cumulative experience. Hence, the contribution of this article lies in its unpacking of the various temporalities created by the intersectionality and accumulation of oppression, and its scrutiny of how Jaffa’s Palestinians have coped with—and resisted—these temporalities. This intersectional oppression seems prevalent, suffered in various forms by disempowered groups, who experience different, though not totally isolated, temporalities. This is particularly so for natives living under settler–colonial regimes in which power is imposed as a dynamic structure (Wolfe, 2006) and sometimes is hard to pinpoint (Stoler, 2016). Arguably, this intersectionality and accumulation can be discerned only by focusing on the natives’ experiences and narratives (Barakat, 2018). Therefore, the present article is based on an analysis of narratives collected through interviews with long-standing Palestinian grassroots activists, all residents of Jaffa, from different backgrounds—social class and religious affiliation, educational attainments, gender, and affiliation to local associations/initiatives.

Theoretical background: Ruination and temporalities

Temporalities

Various scholars have argued that the Western perspective of time is based on several temporal principles, which are founded on an imperialist belief regarding the self and “the other” (Smith, 2008). This perspective includes universality, linearity, and chronology, the element of “discovery,” and development (Smith, 2008: 29–32). Meanwhile, history, as a chronology of time’s unfolding, is presented as neutral and objective. Natives’ temporalities are portrayed as inferior and non-logical (Nanni, 2011). In various settings, such as in colonial encounters, including the case under discussion, Western temporality frequently overshadows or replaces the natives’ temporalities, for example by perceiving their space as terra sine tempore (Nanni, 2011:7). This disregard is amplified by the state, which—by means of its planning, policies, and action—presents itself as a historical agent and as the only official and legitimate narrator. In the last few decades, this role has also been assumed by private companies, which, through neoliberal means, impose their own narratives and “beginnings” on urban histories (Harvey, 2012; Zukin, 2010: 4). Those citizens who do not match these imposed narratives are considered “out of time” (Yian, 2004). Two main mechanisms are often employed by the powerful to control the time of the disfranchised groups: first, emptying it by erasing events and physical traces of their history in order to nullify their historical consciousness; and second, suspending their time to limit their movement in the space and impose a mode of waiting upon them (Jamal, 2016: 366). The imposition of “spaces of waiting” and “occupation time” on Palestinians goes back to the establishment of Israel, as Jaffa’s case shows. However, only recently did scholars begin studying these aspects, mostly with regard to Israeli policies in the West Bank, where the military regime and checkpoints present a clear example of control over Palestinians’ time (Jamal, 2008; Joronen, 2017; Meneley, 2008; Peteet, 2017).

As this description of the policies regarding Al-’Ajami neighborhood shows, since 1948 its Palestinian inhabitants have been held in a state of suspense and waiting. Meanwhile, their neighborhood has been rapidly deteriorating, and their living conditions increasingly fragile. Bourdieu (2000) argued that such a mode constitutes one among several ways of experiencing the effect of power and the link between time and power. Other modes include “adjourning, deferring, delaying, raising false hopes, or, conversely, rushing, taking by surprise” (Bourdieu, 2000: 228). Thus “zones of waiting,” in Bayart’s (2007: 274) terminology, are destined to demoralize the population and give rise to a sense of powerlessness among it. The mode of lengthy waiting is experienced according to Bourdieu (2000: 224) as an “empty time.” ⁶ He argues, that it is “time to kill [as] opposed to full time”; it embodies the losing of agency and control over time, where anticipation of the forthcoming is closed off. Yet, several scholars (including Conlon, 2011; Gray, 2011; Kracauer, 1995: 139; Lombard, 2013; Mountz, 2011) have argued that prolonged waiting should be understood as an active experience. They argue it “consists of tense activity and engaged self-preparation” (Kracauer, 1995: 139) among the disempowered and can lead to the acquisition of “agency-in-waiting” (Brun, 2015) along with the emergence of a sense of moral and political community.

This conceptualization raises the need to not only examine the modes of control over time and rhythms imposed by planning and official policies but also to explore the ways in which the community experienced them. Hence, instead of reference to the “freezing” policy as merely imposed “empty time,” I examine the ways in which Palestinian inhabitants of Al-’Ajami experienced the waiting and its effects. This approach is also applied to the post-“freezing” period, where neoliberal practices such as gentrification have been added to the regimes’ tools of planning.

Methodology

Challenging the universal, linear experience of time, various scholars have emphasized the multiplicity and different temporal experiences and structures according to power-relations of race, gender, class, and other components (Massey, 1991; Smith, 2008). Beyond this multiplicity, however, Rifkin (2017: 2) suggests thinking through the lens of “temporality orientation,” which “involves reiterated and nonconscious tendencies, suggesting ways of inhabiting time that shape how the past moves toward the present and future.” With regard to native populations, he suggests that they “remain oriented in relation to collective experiences of peoplehood, to particular territories … to the ongoing histories of their inhabitance in those spaces, and to histories of displacement from them” (Rifkin 2017). Rifkin’s suggestions help to shed light on the peculiarity of the conditions of native populations under settler–colonial regimes (such as Israel). The case under study is part of a wider picture in which Israel has been endeavoring to eliminate the Palestinians and erase their past for many years (Hasan, 2019; Sa’di, 2002; Shihade, 2014; Wolfe, 2006). The policies toward Jaffa represent a direct assault on the integrity of a city that occupies a highly significant place in Palestinians’ collective consciousness.

It is in this context that I conducted interviews with six Palestinians (three women and three men), who had long careers as activists in a variety of grassroots organizations, including: Al-Rabitah–The League for the affairs of the Arabs of Jaffa, the Elected Islamic Association of Jaffa, The Orthodox Association of Jaffa, the Yafa Newspaper, the Youth Committee, the Communal Kindergartens Initiative, and the Women’s Committee. The interviewees came from different socioeconomic backgrounds and had different experiences of housing-related issues. Their names have been changed here to preserve their anonymity.

The interviews were semi-structured, to give the interviewees the space to freely narrate their experiences. Nevertheless, the issues around which the interviews revolved were limited to four general questions: the interviewee’s affinity to the city, his/her personal experience with regard to planning policies and housing issues, events that s/he perceived as meaningful in Jaffa’s history, and how s/he perceived the future of Jaffa. The interviews were recorded, transcribed, and subjected to narrative analysis. This process revealed a variety of temporal experiences and perceptions, yet common to all was a non-linear view of the development of Al-’Ajami neighborhood. Admittedly, the interviewees do not constitute a representative sample, but, as active and experienced individuals in grassroots organizations that have had considerable impact on the community, their views may be considered reflective of broad currents in Jaffa. In the following section, I present the four main themes gleaned from the narratives.

Findings

Discussion and conclusion

For the Palestinian population of Jaffa who remained in the city after the 1948 War and became Israeli citizens, time was anything but linear. Being part of a scattered and defeated nation, they were confused, disoriented, and unable to know what to expect beyond the momentary present. During the 1948 War, they had been concentrated into a “state of exception” and had to endure the cruelties of the Military Regime established to manage their lives. Yet, as soon as this regime was revoked, many of them were forced to share their houses with Jewish immigrant families: “[They] said nothing, [they] did not complain.” A policy of “freezing” led to a rapid deterioration in the condition of the buildings and the infrastructure. The crumbling surroundings and the empty time enforced by the plan both had their impact on the consciousness of the residents. The majority endured hard lives devoid of hope, while some chose to collaborate with the state for the sake of small benefits. Yet, as Mountz (2011: 390) noted, waiting time was also actively experienced. Residents learned how to cope with their new “neighbors” and the authorities. The tipping point paradoxically occurred in the late 1970s, when the freezing plan seemed to be on the verge of realization, namely the eviction of the residents. New neighborhoods were built for the Jewish residents, the majority of whom happily moved out. And many Palestinians, too, began to migrate (primarily to Australia and Canada). The Arab neighborhoods seemed increasingly like a ghost town. Yet, the departure of the Jewish population along with the continuity of the “freezing” policies unexpectedly created “a breathing space” for the Palestinian residents. The time of their “agency-in-waiting” (to use Brun’s, 2015, concept) had arrived. They established a multitude of grassroots organizations, principally the Al-Rabitah, which actively engaged in squatting, “illegal invasions,” advocacy, and the provision of legal assistance to residents. Alongside these impulses, a sense of community, identity, and belonging crystalized.

The freezing policy ended in the early 1990s and a phase of privatization and neoliberal urban renewal began. Suddenly and unexpectedly, the rhythm of time accelerated and brought with it a new form of control over the residents’ time. Indeed, as Bourdieu (2000: 228) argued, the control of others’ time does not only take the form of delay but also of rushing and uncertainty. Overall, the residents of Jaffa found themselves again “out of time.” A few were able to purchase the houses in which they lived from the management companies, but the majority could not. The opening of the market to real estate companies, which began to promote Palestinian houses as authentic, along with the awarding of building permits to extremely wealthy Jewish individuals for areas that were cleared, rendered house ownership or even renting beyond the reach of most residents, particularly young couples.

The two expressions of control over residents’ time—first through an imposed empty time and later through sudden acceleration and uncertainty—follow the same rationale. Both time rhythms are premised on the deprivation of normalcy to the city’s Palestinians citizens. Yet, while the imposed “empty time” led eventually to community-building, the “accelerated time” threatens to create a “hollow community.” The arrival of neoliberalism has been accompanied by its various syndromes: individualism, widening of socioeconomic gaps, materialism, and sectarian identification. Yet, beneath these currents, one should look at what Rifkin (2017) called “temporal orientation”: how natives look at their places and how these places are being transformed. Such a “temporal orientation” might explain the historical perspectives through which Jaffa’s residents view their city’s future; their experience of imposed temporalities brought them to realize the non-linearity of time and the existence of gaps and opportunities in which they can act and influence their lives. Most importantly, it gave them the opportunity to create sense of community and alternative temporalities that incorporate their understanding of their collective memory and identity—a legacy that might aid them in counteracting the various forms of imposed temporalities of displacement.