Birzeit… Where We Become Us

Author: رامي مهداوي

Returning to Birzeit University is not just an official visit to sign a cooperation agreement, but a return to the original spirit, to the place that shaped our consciousness, and paved our paths to national and intellectual maturity. On July 10, 2025, I returned to my alma mater, not as a student or a student activist as I once was, but representing the Palestinian Ministry of Labor, accompanying Her Excellency the Minister of Labor, Dr. Inas Al-Attari, a daughter of this university, her former student, and teacher, and here she is today returning as a minister and a developmental leader, bearing the concerns of youth and graduates throughout the homeland.

However, something in this visit transcended the official nature. The feelings of return were akin to someone retrieving their first self, with its sincerity, yearning, and simplicity. Birzeit, which has graduated generations of fighters, thinkers, and decision-makers, was not just an academic edifice, but a national state of existence that produces the human being before the degree, and equips the student with awareness rather than just grades. Here, we learned how to love Palestine, how to differ with dignity, how to engage in dialogue with courage, and how to shape the dream to fit the homeland rather than our individual sizes.

Dr. Al-Attari, who led her ministry's delegation with the same enthusiasm with which she used to engage in intellectual discussions in the halls of Birzeit, affirmed during her speech that this agreement with the university is just part of a broader developmental project, which includes all Palestinian universities, from Rafah to Tulkarm, from besieged Gaza to Nablus, Ramallah, and Hebron. The idea is not limited to Birzeit alone, despite its symbolism, but extends to cover every Palestinian academic institution, believing that Palestinian youth, wherever they are, deserve to have the legal and professional tools to enter the labor market with knowledge and dignity.
The Minister spoke about the three digital platforms launched by the ministry to connect graduates with job opportunities, both locally and internationally, in the midst of a difficult and complex economic reality. But she stressed that her efforts do not stop at the borders of the West Bank but also encompass the Gaza Strip, which suffers from siege, destruction, and extreme unemployment. Hence, the ministry seeks to institutionalize geographical justice in its programs and to reach the youth in Gaza with employment, training, and psychological and moral support initiatives, emphasizing the unity of blood and destiny.

While the official meetings were taking place, I couldn’t resist my desire to visit one who was once the face of Birzeit: Abu Sateef, the university's guard. I saw him as I remembered him, standing at the gate of memory, recognizing each one of us despite the years. He embraced me as if time had frozen, as if the story that began here has not yet ended. How many ministers, professors, or ambassadors have passed through here, with Abu Sateef being the first to open the gate for them?

Then I sat with my colleague Dr. Iyad Tuma, who continues our student journey today as an academic leader and vice president of the university for administrative and financial affairs, as if we had never parted ways. In my meeting with my professor Dr. Yasser Al-Amouri, who once shaped my intellectual awareness, I felt gratitude for every moment he spent teaching us how to think, not just memorize, and how to question, not just submit.

I cannot return to Birzeit without recalling the national and academic figures who had a significant impact on my path; Dr. Hanna Naser, whose presence at the university served as a moral and national compass, a calm yet profound man, instilled in us the meaning of balance, respect, and the organic connection between knowledge and position. As for Dr. Nabil Qasis, he was indeed one of those who taught me how public work is managed with integrity and mental rigor, how decisions are made not by slogans but by data, and with a deep understanding of national interest. I learned from him what I could not learn in management books.

As I wandered around the university campus, I felt a painful emptiness when I passed by the place that once held the Student Council, the beating heart of student life. It was not just a building, but a symbol of freedom, of the noble struggle between political currents, and of countless initiatives. Today, after destruction has reached this beloved corner, I felt as if some hand had transgressed against memory, not just stone.

Amidst these emotions, the image of my late professor, the spiritual father of media and public relations, Albert Aghzariyat, was not absent from my heart. How indebted I am to him for many professional and human tools that helped me in my journey. He was elegant in his words, sharp in his evaluations, and kind in his silence. May he rest in peace; he was one of those teachers who are irreplaceable, who do not just teach but illuminate the way.

Birzeit has never been outside of Palestinian time but is very much within it. Every stone here tells a story, and every hall resonates with the voices of those who challenged reality with their positions and thoughts. It is not alone, but alongside our other universities across the country, which graduate minds and build humans, despite walls, restrictions, and occupation. In times of brutal occupation and the siege imposed on Gaza, knowledge becomes more than a necessity; it becomes a form of resistance. And returning to the university becomes an act of loyalty.

Birzeit has not only taught me how to write or debate but how to love, how to yearn, and how to carry the homeland in my heart wherever I go. Today, I return to it in my official capacity, but I leave it carrying the same dream I held as I walked its corridors as a student one distant morning.