Being able to buy a home anywhere in the world usually depends on people's purchasing power.
But in this case, Fady Faddoul faces a dilemma that has nothing to do with her finances.
This Palestinian has a good salary as an accountant and could afford a house.
However, if he decides to buy it, it cannot be registered in his name and it could be taken from him at any time.
“I cannot be a property owner by law.
I could put it in the name of my mother, who does have the nationality, but if she dies I cannot inherit it and the State would keep it, ”explains Faddoul from the house where he lives for rent with his partner in Beirut, the capital. lebanese
Faddy Faddoul is a young Lebanese accountant and grandson of Palestinians who went into exile in Lebanon in 1948. He and his parents were born in Beirut and yet are not recognized as Lebanese citizens.
In the picture, he poses for a selfie with a childhood friend at his parents' house in Beirut, Lebanon. Elena del Estal
Faddy Faddoul, sitting on the terrace of his parents' house in the Christian neighborhood of Jdeide, in Beirut.
Lebanese of Palestinian origin do not have the right to work in at least 30 qualified professions, such as in the health or law sector. Elena del Estal
Faddy Fadoul toasts with arak, a typical Lebanese drink, during a dinner with Lebanese friends in Beirut. Elena del Estal
Faddy Fadoul enjoys dinner with friends at a restaurant in Beirut.
In the image, traditional Lebanese food. Elena del Estal
Views of the city of Beirut from the terrace of Faddy Faddoul.
"From a legal point of view, I am a Palestinian refugee, but I feel Lebanese. I don't know anyone in Palestine, I was born and raised here in Beirut, and so were my parents," says Faddoul. Elena del Estal
Faddy Faddoul, reflected on the glass of a window in his house in Beirut, with the city in the background.
"I wanted to buy a house, but I can't own it. Also, if I put it in the name of a relative who does have nationality, if that relative dies I can't inherit it," says the Palestinian. Elena del Estal
On the right, Faddy Faddoul's documentation;
on the left, that of his fiancee, a Lebanese of Armenian origin, who does have recognized nationality. Faddy's document is a lighter blue color, and although it is issued by the Lebanese Republic, it does not even have the word "passport" written on it about him.
It is a "travel document for Palestinian refugees", says its owner. Elena del Estal
Jossam was born and raised in the Bourj al Brajne refugee camp in Beirut.
"My daughter is an interior designer and she doesn't have a job because she's Palestinian. It's even forbidden to live here if you're Palestinian," he complains.
In the image, he looks up through the stairwell of a building in the Shatila refugee camp. Elena del Estal
Salah (43 years old) is of Palestinian descent from Yafa.
He has been born and raised in the Shatila refugee camp.
"I worked undercover in an iron company and when inspections were carried out they sent me home. The last time they came by surprise and my boss fired me from my job." Elena del Estal
Safá al Halabe is a 29-year-old woman of Palestinian origin, but born and raised in Lebanon.
"I love Lebanon because I was born here and I have also grown up here, but I feel Palestinian, they have forced me not to be in my country and I cannot get to know it either."
In the image, she calls by phone at the offices of the Najdeh association, which helps Palestinian refugees, located in the Chatila refugee camp. Elena del Estal
A woman walks through the alleys of the Shatila refugee camp.
Behind her back, you can read the phrase "Our Palestine", written in Arabic. Elena del Estal
Views from a rooftop of the Shatila refugee camp in Beirut, Lebanon.
Many Palestinians who arrived in the country decades ago also live here. Elena del Estal
Palestinians in Lebanon do not have the right to access some public services, despite the fact that Palestinian workers in companies are obliged to pay their corresponding taxes.
Neither can they own or inherit.
Faddoul shows his passport in his hands and speaks resignedly about his status as a refugee.
That is the title of the document, although both he and his parents were born and raised in Beirut and have only known one land like theirs: Lebanon.
This 36-year-old man is the grandson of Palestinian exiles from 1948, who left their home behind during the Arab-Israeli war and settled in the neighboring country fleeing the occupation.
"My grandfather used to say that it took them just an hour to get to the south, to the town of Aein al Sahr, and that there they settled in a Christian refugee camp thinking that in time they would return to Palestine," he recalls.
From 1952 to 1958, the president of the Lebanese republic was Camille Chamoun, who granted the possibility to Palestinians who professed the Christian religion to obtain nationality.
This is how Faddoul's mother got her citizenship, but she cannot pass it on to her children because the law only recognizes her father's blood ties.
Lebanon is a multi-confessional country that has 18 official dogmas and where politics is fully linked to religion.
So much so that the President of the Republic has to be a Maronite Christian by law;
the vice president, an Orthodox Christian;
the Prime Minister, a Sunni Muslim, and the Speaker of Parliament must be a Shia Muslim.
“There is always a political or economic game regarding giving us nationality.
We have become pawns of that”, says Faddoul emphatically.
According to the young man, one of the reasons why they have never been granted citizenship has to do with the fact that the majority of Palestinian refugees are Sunni Muslims.
"Christian Palestinians are very few, if we were granted nationality, the number of Sunni Muslims in Lebanon would increase and that would mean a demographic change," he reflects.
Neither the Christian parties nor the Shiite Muslim parties would like this situation.
Likewise, different countries that have different interests in the region also participate in this “political game”.
“Our problem is a bigger problem between Israel, Lebanon, the United States… We Palestinians are a card to play with.
It is negotiated, for example, that if the Lebanese are allowed to control the international waters of the south, they will finally give nationality to the Palestinians”, in relation to the dispute between Lebanon and Israel over the common maritime border where deposits are found. Of gas.
Faddy Faddoul is a young Lebanese accountant and grandson of Palestinians who went into exile in Lebanon in 1948. He and his parents were born in Beirut and yet are not recognized as Lebanese citizens.
In the picture, he poses with a childhood friend at his parents' house in Beirut, Lebanon. Elena del Estal
This permanent limbo in which they live, for which they are deprived of the right to return, but also of being considered as Lebanese citizens with full rights, suffering from discriminatory policies, has brought a series of harsh consequences for the lives of the refugees.
Palestinians are prohibited from working in more than 30 skilled professions, such as the health sector or law, and in all those that are regulated by unions.
However, on December 8, 2021, in what seemed like a step forward in terms of gaining their rights, this law was questioned by the Minister of Labor, Mustafa Bayram.
Due to the unstable economic, political and social situation in which Lebanon has been immersed for two years and, consequently, to the massive exodus that is taking place of qualified workers from the country, the minister promised to "review the list of professions excluded for Palestinians.”
But the proposal did not last long: in February 2022, the Maronite League, an organization founded in the seventies to preserve the privileges that Maronite Christians have had in Lebanon since France gave them to them during the French colonization of the Arab country (1923- 1943), appealed and the reform was suspended.
The fight against discriminatory policies from the fields
“Palestinians are not allowed to work.
I have nephews who are engineers and nurses, but they are all stuck at home.
They have tried many times, but they don't get hired,” says Salah, a Palestinian born in Shatila refugee camp.
Located in Beirut, it is known for the massacre of hundreds of civilians perpetrated in 1982 by the Lebanese phalanx led by Israel, which fenced off the compound while the crime was being committed so that it could not be prevented in any way.
This settlement is made up of a maze of alleys filled with shabby buildings and tangles of loose wires due to the lack of a decent electricity system.
What is not lacking are the graffiti and insignia of Palestine, the flags with the colors red, white, black and green and photographs of former president Yasser Arafat, considered by many to be a symbol of Palestinian resistance.
The latest protests against the discriminatory policies suffered by Palestinians in Lebanon arose from camps like Chatila.
In July 2019, the then Minister of Labor, Camille Abu Suleiman, launched a new labor market plan in which they gave companies a month to facilitate a registry of the names of employees in order to locate undocumented immigrants among they.
They also fined and even closed Syrian and Palestinian companies.
“I have worked in a company where we made iron doors for 29 years.
When we knew that people from the Ministry were coming to do inspections, the boss sent me home.
But last time they showed up by surprise and kicked me out,” says Salah, 43, the grandson of exiles from Yafa.
Palestinians are allowed to work as employees in this type of profession, but the owners of the companies take advantage of the desperate situation of the refugees to not have them legally hired.
After 29 years, Salah went to his house without any kind of severance pay, or the right to unemployment, or a document that proves his work activity.
Jossam was born and raised in the Bourj al Brajne refugee camp in Beirut.
"My daughter is an interior designer and she doesn't have a job because she's Palestinian. It's even forbidden to live here if you're Palestinian," he complains.
In the image, he looks up through the stairwell of a building in the Shatila refugee camp. Elena del Estal
On July 15, 2019, mass demonstrations against this type of discrimination began, but the terrible situation in Lebanon, which is suffering the worst economic crisis in its history, and where the Lebanese pound has lost 95% of its value in the last year The protests stopped.
For her part, Rayan, a 26-year-old Palestinian who was born and raised in Chatila, says that before the crisis she worked in a "cosmetics company", but that she lost her job "due to the circumstances" that the country is going through.
“Later I have posted resumes on several sites and they put in the same ads, on the internet, that they only hired Lebanese,” she explains.
An uncertain future for the Palestinians
Jamal Saber is the communication officer at the Najdeh association, an NGO that works primarily with Palestinian refugee women and girls and, through them, with the broader marginalized social strata of their community in Lebanon.
Shortly before the elections on May 15, the young man feared that the same politicians who have led the country to ruin would be re-elected.
Then promoting a change and a conquest of rights for the refugees would be more difficult.
“Everything will depend on who forms the government this time.
If a Hezbollah minister leaves, he will do one thing, if he leaves another party, he will do another”, he assured.
The results of the elections in the Arab republic, mired in crisis and where regional alliances are forcibly changing, have finally pointed to the possibility of a new scenario opening up for the Palestinian refugees in Lebanon and also for the rest of the general public: Hezbollah, the powerful pro-Iranian militia party, and its Shiite and Christian allies have lost their majority in Parliament.
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