CAMBRIDGE, MASS.—There have been plenty of occasions recently when I thought of quitting forever. I have been tempted to take the one dream that mattered the most to me and millions of other Palestinians—our long quest for justice—and throw it into that little space in my brain reserved for those fantasies that reality and logic discourage. But then the latest chaos in Gaza came up on the news, only to remind me of the reason why I chose this path of speaking up for Palestinians. The people entangled and entrapped in the complex fabric of the Israeli occupying forces, the corrupt Palestinian Authority (PA) and the militants who have virtually taken over—these people are my reason and my cause.

This past month, Gaza witnessed unprecedented civil chaos and unrest. Militant organizations stepped up their protests against the PA, abducting Palestinian security officials and French aid workers, attacking Palestinian security offices and stations and organizing street demonstrations featuring hundreds of masked armed men. A lot of Palestinians like to say it is God’s way of doing things; He gives with His right hand (referring to the latest ruling from the International Court of Justice against the Israeli separation wall), and takes with His left hand (referring to the events in Gaza). While this cynical attitude is common, the majority of Palestinians realize that they are at a crossroads: Either the PA pursues reform with full speed preparing the way for a healthier and more pragmatic leadership to emerge, or the seeds of civil war will take root.

Similarly, the West Bank is witnessing signs of a coming storm. Nabil Amr, member of the Palestinian Legislative Council and former Information minister—also a family friend—was shot and critically injured last week in Ramallah by an unidentified militant. He is one of the most vocal critics of President Arafat and the PA. It is almost certain that yielding to militants’ demands in Gaza will encourage more militias to adopt this approach in dealing with the PA; simultaneously, the targeting of Amr will certainly discourage moderates and reformers from speaking up. This combination of trends leaves the majority of the Palestinian population voiceless—condemned to silence as their aspirations for statehood and sovereignty dissolve before their eyes. The Palestinians’ struggle for independence has long been more than a temporarily difficult phase like any other liberation endeavor, but has instead become an everlasting hardship.

Yet despite the hardship, very few blame President Arafat for the political crisis. There seems to me a consensus in the Palestinian territories that the PA is not to blame for the failure of Camp David. Palestinians, just like anyone following the course of this conflict, heard endless talk about how the PA was offered 94, 95, 99 or even 100 percent of the 1967 lands—it all depends on how far the person describing the deal is willing to stretch it. Still, almost no Palestinian believes that Arafat was offered a viable and sovereign state. Palestinians’ problem with the PA, however, stems from corruption that has entrenched its institutions. Decentralization, transparency and reform were all popular Palestinian demands before they became U.S. and Israeli negotiating conditions. Arafat’s mediocre performance in these areas has severely damaged his image amongst Palestinians.

But Arafat remains Arafat, the horse Palestinians count on to win the competition. And Palestinians will not replace him in the middle of the race—especially not under pressure from anyone whose understanding of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict was shaped by pro-Israel cheerleaders like Paul Wolfowitz, Richard Perle and Douglas Feith.

Today, 10 years after the peace accords with Israel, drastic changes have occurred in Palestinian society. There are no icons in Palestine today, no sacred symbols, no heroes to praise and worship. There are only militants marching down the road, disturbing the peace of the dust on the ground, which rises in slow motion to powder the faces of the children playing with pebbles and stones. And there are the mothers living in the shadows of misfortune searching for some light in a world where talk is plenty but action is scarce.

In Gaza, AK-47s and M-16s are essential elements of this year’s summer fashion collection—along with khaki pants, dark shirts and masks. The men wearing them are constantly marching. Marching is what they do best. They are what remained of this year’s harvest. Plenty of bad crops this year, and very few seeds—almost none. There is infinite despair in the Palestinian territories. Add to that cynicism and disappointment, a few targeted assassinations, a segregation wall, a corrupt leadership, no work, militants demanding pay for your protection, and, finally, a checkpoint soldier with an ugly smile ordering you to dance. If there is really a God up there, He must have been on a break for the past few years.

I sometimes think that the Palestinian quest for independence is like a childbirth gone terribly wrong. The seemingly endless struggle, the merciless pains of the pregnancy, the fear of becoming a burden, the striving to keep on with minimal complaint, the impatient waiting for the new soul to arrive-almost all are slipping away unrewarded. Doctors in charge disagree about how to best save the mother and the baby. They deal with this crisis with that provocative detachment of men dealing with death without being vulnerable to it. While the majority of doctors insist on the need for a caesarian section, there are a few-one of which is the leading doctor in this hospital-who believe that the mother is not giving enough effort to make this process work. Despite the fact that the majority prefers active intervention, the doctors submit to the will of the few, and they all stand idle waiting for the mother to do something miraculous to save herself and the new soul in her womb.

Well I, for one, will not stand idle, for I have lived the Palestinian dream; I have seen it almost come true. And I have witnessed the horrific collapse. And I, by God, swear that a childbirth gone so wrong can wait no more. This is why I speak, and this is why the Palestinian-Israeli conflict is more than a question of land, security and terrorism.

Mohammed J. Herzallah ’07 is a government concentrator in Adams House. He is spending his summer working at The Crimson Summer Academy, a new academic program for 30 motivated high-school students from the Boston area.