I Shall Not Hate

1. Refugee Childhood Defined by Hardship

The truth is, my most powerful memories of my boyhood in Jabalia Camp are of the stench of the latrine, the gnawing ache in my hungry stomach, the exhaustion from selling milk in the very early morning to earn that little bit of money that was so essential to my family, the anxiety I felt rushing to get to school on time.

Born into poverty. Izzeldin Abuelaish was born in the Jabalia refugee camp in Gaza in 1955, one of nine children living in a single, small, dirty room with no electricity, running water, or privacy. His family, dispossessed from their village Houg in 1948, faced constant deprivation and relied on UN rations and odd jobs for survival.

Scars of displacement. The memory of being forced from their land and the promise of return lingered, but the reality was permanent displacement and living in overcrowded, unsanitary conditions. This early life instilled a deep understanding of suffering and injustice, shaping his perspective on the conflict.

Survival over childhood. His childhood was not one of play but of work and anxiety. As the eldest son, he felt immense responsibility to contribute financially from a young age, taking on difficult jobs like selling milk or hauling manure, which left him physically and emotionally exhausted.

2. Education as the Path to Escape

Education was the only way out of the circumstances we were in.

Teachers offered hope. Despite the challenging home environment and the pressure to work, teachers at the UN school recognized his potential and encouraged his academic pursuits. They became crucial mentors, convincing him that education could open doors and provide a future beyond the camp's poverty.

Prioritizing learning. He worked tirelessly to excel in school, seeing new information as a gift and striving for top marks. Even when family needs pushed him to skip classes for work, the encouragement of his teachers, particularly his English teacher, motivated him to stay the course and pursue higher education.

University as a dream. His dedication paid off when he earned a scholarship to study medicine at the University of Cairo. This opportunity was a source of immense pride for his family and community, marking him as the first Abuelaish to attend university and symbolizing a potential escape from their circumstances.

3. Medicine as a Bridge for Coexistence

For me, every patient is like one of my relatives.

Healing transcends borders. As a physician, Izzeldin saw medicine as a powerful tool to connect people across the Israeli-Palestinian divide. He believed that in the hospital, shared humanity and the goal of healing could overcome political and ethnic differences.

Working in Israel. He pursued advanced medical training and worked in Israeli hospitals like Soroka and Sheba, becoming the first Palestinian doctor on staff in an Israeli hospital. This allowed him to treat patients from all backgrounds – Israeli, Palestinian, Arab-Israeli, Bedouin – without discrimination.

Building trust. His interactions with Israeli colleagues and patients demonstrated that mutual respect and cooperation were possible. He facilitated meetings between Israelis and Palestinians, using healthcare as a common ground to build understanding and challenge prejudices on both sides.

4. The Daily Humiliation of Border Crossings

As an experience, crossing is never routine, often erratic, frightening and exhausting.

A life divided. Living in Gaza and working in Israel meant navigating the Erez crossing twice a week, a process fraught with unpredictable delays, searches, and interrogations. This constant humiliation was a stark reminder of the lack of freedom and dignity imposed on Palestinians.

Arbitrary restrictions. Permits could be denied or revoked without clear reason, impacting his ability to work, study, or even return home. The process was designed to be difficult, affecting everyone from laborers to students and critically ill patients seeking medical treatment.

Psychological toll. The uncertainty and powerlessness experienced at the checkpoints built immense frustration and anxiety. While he learned patience, the indignity of being treated as a security threat, even when rushing to a dying wife's bedside, highlighted the dehumanizing nature of the occupation.

5. Conflict's Toll on Minds and Lives

Almost everyone here has psychiatric problems of one sort or another; everyone needs rehabilitation.

Cycle of violence. The ongoing conflict, marked by intifadas, blockades, and military incursions, created a pervasive atmosphere of tension, fear, and hopelessness in Gaza. This environment fostered self-destructive behaviors and extremism among a disenfranchised population.

Psychological impact. Decades of oppression, poverty, and violence have left deep psychological scars on Gazans, particularly children. Teachers reported behavioral problems, and the constant threat of attack contributed to widespread trauma and mental health issues with little access to help.

Dehumanization. The conflict reduced people to statistics or stereotypes, making it easy for each side to demonize the other. This dehumanization fueled further violence and made it difficult to see the shared suffering and desire for peace among ordinary people.

6. The Strength of Family and Community

What I do for myself and my children, I also do for my brothers and sisters and their children.

Mutual support. In the face of hardship, the extended family and community provided a vital support system. Resources were shared, and family members looked out for one another, embodying a strong sense of collective responsibility.

Mother's resilience. His mother, Dalal, was a central figure of strength and determination, pushing her children to succeed despite their circumstances. Her perseverance in the face of poverty and family ostracism served as a powerful example of resilience.

Togetherness in crisis. During the Israeli incursion, the family huddled together for safety, finding solace and strength in their unity. Even after the tragic shelling, the surviving children and relatives clung to each other, their bonds helping them navigate unimaginable grief.

7. Tragic Loss of Daughters and Niece

In seconds, my beloved Bessan, my sweet shy Aya and my clever and thoughtful Mayar were dead, and so was their cousin Noor.

Shelling of the home. On January 16, 2009, during the Israeli incursion into Gaza, two Israeli tank shells struck his apartment building, specifically targeting the bedroom where his daughters and niece were seeking refuge. The attack was sudden and devastating.

Unimaginable scene. The immediate aftermath revealed a horrific scene of destruction, injury, and death. Four young girls – Bessan (21), Mayar (15), Aya (14), and their cousin Noor (17) – were killed instantly, while his daughter Shatha and niece Ghaida were gravely wounded.

Public tragedy. The tragedy unfolded live on Israeli television as he called his friend, journalist Shlomi Eldar, during a newscast, his raw grief broadcast to millions. This moment humanized the Palestinian suffering for many Israelis and garnered international attention.

8. Choosing Forgiveness Over Revenge

To those who seek retaliation, I say, even if I got revenge on all the Israeli people, would it bring my daughters back?

Rejecting hate. In the immediate aftermath of the shelling, despite his profound grief and the calls for revenge from others, Izzeldin made a conscious decision to reject hatred. He saw hate as a destructive force that would only perpetuate the cycle of violence.

A message of peace. His response, famously stating, "Let my daughters be the last to die," became a powerful call for an end to the conflict and a plea for dialogue and understanding between Israelis and Palestinians. He directed his energy towards peace, not retribution.

Focus on the future. He believed that dwelling on revenge would dishonor his daughters' memory and prevent any possibility of a better future. His focus shifted to ensuring that their sacrifice would contribute to building bridges and fostering coexistence.

9. Empowering Women and Girls for Peace

I feel it’s time to empower Palestinian women and girls, to give them respect and independence and let them take the lead.

Untapped potential. Izzeldin believed that empowering women and girls through health and education was crucial for the development and peace of the region. He observed that cultural and financial barriers often prevented girls from reaching their full potential.

Women as agents of change. He saw women as inherently less inclined towards war and more focused on building and nurturing. Investing in their education and health could shift societal dynamics and contribute significantly to breaking the cycle of poverty and conflict.

Foundation for daughters. In honor of his deceased daughters, he established a foundation dedicated to empowering women and girls in the Middle East through health and education. This initiative aimed to create opportunities and foster relationships across divides.

10. The Call for Truth and Accountability

I wanted the Israeli army to tell me why my home, which had harboured no militants, which was filled with children whose only weapons were love, hopes and dreams, was fired upon.

Seeking answers. Immediately after the shelling, Izzeldin sought an explanation from the Israeli military for why his home was targeted. He was determined to uncover the truth and prevent a cover-up.

Conflicting accounts. The Israeli army offered various, often contradictory, explanations for the attack, including claims of snipers on the roof or militants in the building, which he vehemently denied. He insisted his home was a civilian target.

Demanding responsibility. He called for the IDF to admit their mistake and apologize, arguing that sophisticated weapons meant the targeting was precise. The subsequent Goldstone Report by the UN also criticized the attack as disproportionate and called for accountability from both sides of the conflict.

11. Shared Humanity and the Will for Peace

We are two peoples who want to live in peace and are fed up with war and bloodshed.

More alike than different. Despite the decades of conflict, Izzeldin consistently emphasized the shared humanity and cultural similarities between Israelis and Palestinians. He believed that ordinary people on both sides desired peace and a normal life for their children.

Building trust. He advocated for dialogue, mutual respect, and understanding as the only way forward. His personal experiences working with Israelis and fostering friendships demonstrated that connections could be built across the divide.

Hope for the future. Despite immense personal loss and the ongoing challenges, he maintained an optimistic outlook, believing that peace was achievable if there was the collective will to pursue it. He saw his life's work and his daughters' legacy as contributing to this possibility.

Last updated: June 10, 2025