The National.. and the Lowly

In Palestine, not all shining faces are clean, and not everyone who stands under the image of the leader has become a statesman, nor has everyone who memorizes slogans become a patriot.

There are men who have carried this homeland on their shoulders until their backs have bent from exhaustion, and there are those who have carried the homeland as a temporary travel bag, opening it when there are interests and closing it in times of danger.

The true patriot is not recognized by his loud voice but by his long patience. By his silent pain.
And by his ability to remain respected despite all that he has endured from marginalization, exclusion, and deliberate transgressions, as if some chair holders fear real men more than they fear the occupation itself.

The patriot is the one who remained loyal when politics for some turned into a cheap bazaar.
He is the one who has not sold his history for a position, nor changed his stance every time the wind changed direction.
You see the fatigue in his eyes, but he does not beg for applause nor stand at the doors of the influential seeking their approval, because he knows that national dignity is not granted by a decree nor taken away by a small conspiracy from a minor employee wearing a suit bigger than his size.

As for the lowly one, he is that being who masters the art of rising on the shoulders of others. He uses the position in power as a bridge, not to serve the people, but to ascend positions within the movement, as if the homeland is merely a wooden ladder for personal ascent.
He
Entered every office with a mirror in his pocket, not to see the people... but to ensure that his image is still in the center.

The lowly one does not believe in struggle but in the clever management of fear. He is cowardly when situations call for courage and only fierce against the weak. He talks about Fatah as a merchant talks about his shop and about the revolution as a broker talks about a piece of land he wants to sell at the highest price.

And when he senses that a real man is approaching... begins the subtle siege. Rumors start, attempts at exclusion commence, and lies wrapped in cold smiles and lengthy meetings ensue that produce nothing but more small conspiracies.

For the lowly one cannot live in the presence of men who possess the respect of the people, as his entire existence is based on their absence.

The patriot does not fear competent individuals but rejoices in them because the homeland is greater than names.
As for the lowly one, he trembles at anyone who has a history, presence, or genuine affection in the streets, thus spending half his life evading confrontation and the other half creating obstacles.

The patriot, when serving the people, feels ashamed if he falls short. As for the lowly one, he treats the position as if it were a private farm where he distributes false promises and cheap flattery, hiding behind long titles to cover his internal emptiness.

And every time this people rises from its pain... we discover that those who have remained steadfast in pain are the true patriots, those who have asked for nothing for themselves nor compromised their history, nor turned Fatah into a private joint-stock company.

As for the lowly one... no matter how many positions he gathers and how many guards and applause-makers he surrounds himself with, he remains fragile on the inside, afraid of the truth because people ultimately know well the difference between a man who burned for the homeland... and a man who has mastered quietly consuming the homeland.

And despite everything... Fatah will remain greater than the lowly, because this movement was not built on the shoulders of climbers but on the blood of real men and the sweat of fighters and the patience of believers in Palestine.

This people, despite pain, fatigue, and disappointment, will remain capable of sorting faces and discovering the truth, for homelands may tire sometimes... but they do not die as long as there are men resembling Palestine more than they resemble the chairs.