"Calls to End Forced Deportations Follow Custodial Death"

Human rights organisations have been demanding an independent inquiry into the death of a Nigerian asylum seeker who died while being deported and a stop to all forced repatriations.

Switzerland's sixth deportation flight of 2010, scheduled for the evening of Mar. 17 with 16 Nigerians on board, never took off. Among the prisoners was Alex Uzowulu, 29, whose asylum claim had been previously rejected.

According to the cantonal police of Zurich, Uzowulu refused to board the flight and "could only be constrained by the use of force." Uzowulu's arms and legs were tied up and a helmet put over his head and police claim that, thereafter, "he suddenly showed health problems." He was unbound but never revived.

The director of the Federal Office for Migration (FOM), Alard du Boys-Reymond, who happened to witness the deportation later told Swiss Television that the police acted professionally.

Eyewitnesses, however, accuse the officers of being brutal and acting "like animals." Following Uzowulu's death, the FOM has temporarily halted further special repatriation flights.

Uzowulu is the third casualty related to forced deportations from Switzerland in 11 years. In 1999, a Palestinian asylum seeker who was bound and gagged with tape suffocated to death. Two years later, a Nigerian asylum seeker died in deportation custody, after police officers pressed him to the ground.

A first autopsy by the Institute of Forensic Medicine of the University of Zurich offered no clear conclusions on the cause of Uzowulu's death. The Nigerian had been on hunger strike for a few days preceding the deportation, the authorities admit. Fellow prisoners, however, claim the young man had refused food for a much longer time.

Du Boys-Reymond said it did not matter that the deportee had been on hunger strike, but that he was declared healthy on the day of deportation. In general, he added, "it should be that only healthy persons can be deported."

Christoph Hugenschmidt, speaking on behalf of the human rights group 'augenauf' (open eyes), accused du Boys-Reymond of hypocrisy. "We have documented dozens of cases where sick and unhealthy persons have been deported," he said.

To the police statement that Uzowulu was listed as as a drug-dealer, Hugenschmidt reacted by saying: "What does that mean? He was never convicted as a drug dealer!" The activist accused the police of slander and defamation in order to condone the Nigerian's death.

Switzerland has not adopted Schengen norms and still detains rejected asylum seekers for up to two years ahead of their repatriation.

Cristina Anglet, of the solidarity network 'Solinetz' in Zurich and who regularly visits deportation prisoners at the Zurich airport said that following Uzowulu's death at least 10 of the inmates had gone on a hunger strike. "I visited on Monday (Mar.22). On the fourth floor, where mostly Africans are imprisoned, almost everybody refused food. Additionally, I knew about people on hunger strike on the second floor."

Hugenschmidt is appalled by the authorities' efforts to play down the hunger strike. "Someone may just have died from the consequences of a hunger strike," he said. Several rights organisations such as Amnesty International and various cantonal left-wing parties have demanded an independent inquiry into Uzowulu's death.

Balthasar Glättli, secretary-general of 'Solidarité sans frontières' (Sosf), an organisation promoting migrants' rights, prefers an international body such as the Committee against Torture to investigate. "The department of public prosecution is the wrong body to probe, as its ties with the police are much too close."

As a Schengen state, Switzerland is obliged to implement the European Union's 'Return Directive' according to which it has to set up an effective forced return monitoring system by spring 2011. Amnesty International demands that no forced deportations are carried out without independent monitoring.

Sosf's Glättli remains sceptical: "Monitoring only makes sense if the deployed observers are present during the whole process. I'd prefer if deportees were accompanied by lawyers who could legally represent and defend them." Glättli says that during forced deportation detainees are often trussed up. "The authorities put up with the death of people."

Sosf states that the right of individuals to physical integrity, and therefore their protection from potentially deadly deportation procedures, have to be regarded as more important than Switzerland's desire to remove people from its territory.

This report was first published here by IPS Inter Press Service.

"Nahr al-Bared camp still far from being rebuilt"

After the Palestinian refugee camp Nahr al-Bared was totally destroyed in a war in 2007, the Lebanese government promised the 30.000 refugees a quick reconstruction and the return to the camp. However, the government's words haven't materialized yet, while the camp remains under the tight grip of the Lebanese army.

„Nahr al-Bared wasn't destroyed to be rebuilt. It was destroyed and that's it. I want to emigrate!“ These are the words of Marwan Hamed, a 30-years old Palestinian refugee currently living in a 18 square meters 'temporary shelter' on the outskirts of Nahr al-Bared refugee camp in northern Lebanon. After fleeing to a school in the near Beddawi refugee camp in May 2007, he has returned to Nahr al-Bared early 2008. Having lived in an iron barracks for almost two years, Hamed has lost any hope that the camp would be rebuilt, living conditions would improve and he could find work.

In May 2007, a 15-weeks battle between the non-Palestinian militant group Fatah al-Islam and the Lebanese Armed Forces (LAF) erupted in Nahr al-Bared. The fighting left 54 civilians and approximately 400 soldiers and militants dead. The refugee camp was left totally destroyed and while it was under sole control of the LAF, homes were burnt down, blown up and systematically looted.

Already during the war, former Lebanese prime minister Fouad Siniora made three promises to the refugees: “Your displacement is temporary, your return definitive and the reconstruction of Nahr al-Bared certain.” The government's willingness to rebuild Nahr al-Bared is remarkable keeping in mind the conflict-ridden past of the Palestinian refugees in Lebanon. Camps destroyed during the civil war such as Tel az-Zataar or Jisr al-Basha were never rebuilt and the rejection of permanent resettlement of Palestinian refugees remains one of the very few consensuses within Lebanon's political arena.

After the government along with the UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine refugees (UNRWA) and the grassroots Nahr al-Bared Reconstruction Commission (NBRC) launched a master plan for the reconstruction of the camp in February 2008, a donor conference was held in Vienna in June 2008. In the document outlining its recovery and reconstruction strategy for Nahr al-Bared, the Lebanese government states the camp “will not return to the previous environmental, social and political status quo ante that facilitated its takeover by terrorists.”

Over and over, prime minister Siniora vowed Nahr al-Bared once rebuilt would come under the authority of the Lebanese state and its security forces, thereby becoming a “model camp” for the other official eleven Palestinian refugee camps on Lebanese soil. At the iron barracks, cynicism and frustration reign. Marwan Hamed angrily asks: “Nahr al-Bared is supposed to be a model? A model for what? A model for unemployment, depression and denial?”

About two thirds of the camp's inhabitants used to live in the original core of Nahr al-Bared, which was totally destroyed. After most of the rubble was removed, the foundation stone for the new camp was laid in spring 2009. Reconstruction has only started in November though, as in summer a moratorium issued by Lebanon's state council stopped all works. At a time where power struggles blocked the formation of the new government, Michel Aoun, leader of the Free Patriotic Movement abused the finding of antique ruins under Nahr al-Bared's rubble to file a plea. The process was also delayed by the wast amounts of unexploded ordnance and the expropriation of the land from its private owners.

Charlie Higgins, UNRWA's Project Manager for Nahr al-Bared's Reconstruction, is pleased by the start of the reconstruction, but warns: “We've just crossed the starting line and it's been a long time actually getting to the starting line.” At NBRC's improvised offices in Nahr al-Bared everybody remains quite realistic, too. Abu Ali Mawed, a member of NBRC says: “People are everything but optimistic regarding reconstruction. There were too many unfulfilled promises and the pace of the process is very slow.” Mawed adds he'd start to feel optimistic only when seeing the first people living in their homes.

At UNRWA's heavily-guarded compound in Tripoli, Higgins says not technical difficulties were the worst to overcome, but administrative, legal and political ones. “The reconstruction of Nahr al-Bared is not a completely accepted issue in Lebanon. There are people who, for one reason or another, object to rebuilding Nahr al-Bared,” he says and warns that he expects further difficulties in the future.

One of the problems ahead is that UNRWA has so far only been able to raise about a third of the 328 million dollars required to rebuild Nahr al-Bared. “This does neither surprise us nor should it stop us from moving ahead,” says Higgins, who's optimistic that UNRWA will raise more money once donors see the first buildings going up.

For Amr Saededine, an independent journalist following the events in Nahr al-Bared, a major problem is the Lebanese army's role: “The government permitted the army to even interfere in the planning of the reconstruction.” He feels reminded of how in the 19th century Baron Haussmann under Napoleon III planned Paris: The LAF look at Nahr al-Bared solely from a security perspective. Saededine says the LAF had unsuccessfully tried to forbid the building of balconies, but – as did Israel in Jenin camp – insisted the streets would be broad enough so tanks could enter. He blames the civilian offices on the Lebanese side for hiding behind the LAF: “All these civilians working in their specific field, reconstruction, need to get approval by the army. But it's about rebuilding a civilian area, not about something else!”

The LAF have declared Nahr al-Bared a military zone. The army has sealed-off the bulldozed core of the camp and also controls and limits access to the surrounding area, where almost 20.000 refugees have temporarily resettled. Without special permits issued by the army's secret service, entering Nahr al-Bared isn't possible. Journalists either aren't allowed in or are accompanied by soldiers – even during interviews.

Cutting off Nahr al-Bared from the surrounding Lebanese communities not only negatively affects relations between Palestinians and Lebanese, but also hampers the camp's economic recovery. Before the war, half of Nahr al-Bared's customers were Lebanese, as they profited from the camp's cheap prices and the ability of businessmen to sell on credit. Since autumn 2007, when the first refugees were allowed to return to the camp, many businesses have re-opened. This superficial impression is misleading, however.

In Jar al-'Amr, a neighborhood at the southern edge of the camp, an old woman running a grocery store complains: “In the beginning I was alone. Now, several others have opened in the same street and I sell far less.” Similar complaints can be heard all over Nahr al-Bared, as tiny grocery stores, coffee shops, bakeries and sandwich restaurants are abundant. The Palestinian-Arab Women League (PAWL) runs several programs to provide local entrepreneurs with in-kind grants. Sahar Itani, who coordinates the programs, says that the market is saturated, as the customer base is limited to those living inside the fenced-off camp.

Further down the street in Jar al-'Amr, Rima Ghannam and her husband have spent the last two years rebuilding their damaged, totally looted and partly burnt carpenter workshop. Small factories and companies like their's weren't as unusual in Nahr al-Bared as in other camps. Before the war, access to the camp was unlimited and business was prosperous. Ghannam proudly points at the new machines in the workshop and says: “We've rebuilt it the way it was. However, we need to display our work in a big gallery not in a small room and wait until a customers comes and buys it.”

Ghannam says that using lower quality raw material and selling piece by piece is difficult. She explains: “If we were able to return to producing collections of beds and furniture, the situation would certainly improve.” Being highly indebted and cut-off from their customers, she hopes the army will open the checkpoints, thereby facilitating traffic to the nearby highway connecting Tripoli to the Syrian border.

The LAF meanwhile claim their security arrangements “aim first and foremost to preserve people’s safety through preventing the infiltration of terrorists and wanted people, smuggling of weapons, explosives, and illegal material.“ In contrast, UNRWA's Charlie Higgins considers the LAF's security arrangements “a significant barrier to the recovery of the camp in every sense.” He describes the economic situation in the camp as “stuck.”

In October, the LAF dropped the requirement of permits for Lebanese citizens to enter the camp. However, the number of Lebanese customers has hardly increased, as they still face delays, searches and questioning at al-Abdi, the only checkpoint they're allowed to enter from. Several Lebanese citizens have reported using their old permits again, as their entry would be quicker.

Within Nahr al-Bared, the army and its secret service rule at will. The refugees have become very careful talking openly and in public about issues related to these institutions or the Lebanese state. The secret service has abused the refugees' difficult situation and recruited countless informants, especially women, whose services they mostly 'pay' with phone cards.

Recently, the Internal Security Forces (ISF), Lebanon's police, have set up a post at the northern edge of the camp. Their current role seems to be limited to patrolling the streets. Marwan Abdulal, leader of the theoretically left-wing Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) and the Palestine Liberation Organization's (PLO) person in charge for the reconstruction of Nahr al-Bared says “the problem is that when the ISF entered, the army remained present instead of making place for the ISF.” He demands the transformation of Nahr al-Bared from a military into a civilian area and the withdrawal of the army.

Future security arrangements in Nahr al-Bared are currently heavily debated. The Lebanese government intends to keep Nahr al-Bared under the state's sovereignty and introduce the Anglo-Saxon model of community policing in the camp. The U.S. currently fund a US$ 6 million program to train the ISF. Saededine criticizes the idea as absurd: “They drop it with parachutes and make Nahr al-Bared a testing field. It's neither implemented in Lebanon nor anywhere in the region.” He argues that the Lebanese government is prioritizing the implementation of community policing to having a dialogue with the Palestinians leading to an agreement.

Meanwhile, the PLO prefers to to keep up Palestinian self-governance and reform the camp's popular committee. It proposes the formation of an internal police coordinating with the popular committee and the ISF, which would be stationed outside the camp. The PLO's Marwan Abdulal, himself a resident of Nahr al-Bared, says that introducing direct Lebanese policing in the camp wouldn't work: “If the law remains discriminatory, but should be enforced, the experiment is doomed to fail.”

Indeed, implementing current Lebanese law in Nahr al-Bared would mean the ISF had to arrest basically everyone, says Saededine: “Palestinians aren't allowed to own property, to work in many professions, to open shops etc.” Obviously, the implementation of Lebanese law in the camp would mean to engage in a serious discussion of civil rights for Palestinians in Lebanon. In no other Arab country, Palestinians have been facing as much legal discrimination as in Lebanon.

For Abdulal it is clear: “It's impossible to have Lebanese state security without human security for Palestinians. Palestinians need to be given civil rights.” In a positive step, in 2005 the Lebanese-Palestinian Dialogue Committee (LPDC) was established by the Lebanese Council of Ministers. The committee's mandate is to improve living conditions of the country's 250.000 Palestinian refugees. So far however, the LPDC's impact has been marginal and the most important issues such as giving Palestinians free access to the Lebanese labour market haven't been tackled.

Nahr al-Bared's reconstruction is a very political undertaking and all sides involved regard it as deeply connected to the future of Palestinian refugees in Lebanon and their relationship to their host country. There are opportunities and indeed, some Lebanese political actors are willing to fundamentally change the Palestinian's situation to the better. However, many obstacles remain and developments in Nahr al-Bared over the last two and a half years indicate an ongoing hegemony of security considerations regarding the treatment of Palestinians in Lebanon, which contradicts all the nice words and promises.

The original version of this report was published in the Swedish weekly newspaper Arbetaren.

"Nahr al-Bared's economic recovery hampered by military siege"

More than two years after the end of the fighting, the war-torn Palestinian refugee camp of Nahr al-Bared, located in northern Lebanon, is far from the model the Lebanese government has promised the camp would become. Instead, reconstruction of the camp is delayed, the area is a military zone with restricted access, and the camp's economy is stalled and residents are largely unemployed.

Following a 15-week war in the summer of 2007 between the Lebanese army and the militant group Fatah al-Islam, who occupied portions of the camp, Nahr al-Bared was totally destroyed. So far, about two-thirds of its 30,000 Palestinian inhabitants have returned and resettled on the camp's outskirts. One of them is Jihad Awed, who sits in front of his tiny clothing store and tells about the good times before the war. "My shop was larger and I sold more products. It went well and I made a living. I sold between $130 to $200 per day."

Having returned to Nahr al-Bared after the war, Awed started to sell shoes, but went bankrupt. He sold his wife's jewellery and opened his new store, which barely makes $30 a day. "I can't live on it. The rent is $100 per month. I buy cigarettes and coffee and my income is gone," Awed explains.

Charlie Higgins, Project Manager for the Reconstruction of Nahr al-Bared with the UN agency for Palestine refugees (UNRWA), describes the economic situation in the camp as "stuck." Higgins says that "It hasn't changed very much since the early months after the end of the fighting. The economy has not regenerated and the employment situation has not significantly improved."

He explains that residents are still living in a temporary environment and partly haven't returned to Nahr al-Bared. The camp has also lost its linkage to the surrounding Lebanese communities. Higgins states that "The area remains within a military perimeter and that has effectively regulated and to some extent prevented the re-establishment of the close integration that existed before."

Indeed, most of the shopkeepers in Nahr al-Bared blame the lack of customers from outside for their terrible situation. Nasser Nassar, who refills and sells cooking gas canisters, claims that "The checkpoints and the siege [by the Lebanese army] are the biggest problem." He explains that unlike before, Lebanese customers prefer to buy outside the camp, adding, "Why should they come to the camp, requiring permits and subjecting themselves to being searched and having their IDs checked?"

Unlike other Palestinian refugee camps in Lebanon, Nahr al-Bared once was an open economic hub for the whole region. According to a 2008 survey by UNRWA, about half of its customers were Lebanese. Since the fighting ended, the Lebanese army has maintained control over what remains of the camp, including its destroyed centre and heavily-damaged adjacent area, as well as the Palestinian refugee population that called Nahr al-Bared home. Access to the camp is only possible with special permits issued by the army's intelligence service.

Various non-governmental organizations have attempted to recover Nahr al-Bared's economy. Premiere Urgence (PU) has provided 220 entrepreneurs with in-kind grants. Julien Mulliez, PU's head of mission, says: "Recovery of the economy is obviously compromised by the current conditions of access to Nahr al-Bared. The problem is that access to the camp is dependent on prior authorization [by the Lebanese army], resulting in fewer customers visiting the camp."

The Palestinian-Arab Women's League (PAWL) has conducted five similar projects. Sahar Itani, PAWL's Program Coordinator, says she fears for the sustainability of the beneficiaries' businesses. "It's because of the limited customer base that's currently available in the market in Nahr al-Bared," she explains. "We've reached a market saturation situation."

In his clothing store, Awed complains that the camp's merchants are selling to each other, while everybody is just sitting around. "The money circulates on the same spot. Nothing comes in," he says.

Hassan Mawed, the president of Nahr al-Bared's traders' committee, estimates that Lebanese account for less than five percent of all current customers. According to Mawed, "This is far from being enough to boost Nahr al-Bared's economy. In fact there's some kind of bartering going on in the camp."

Sakher Sha'ar is a hairdresser whose salon is located on Nahr al-Bared's former main street. Sha'ar laments the lack work, explaining that "There are 29 barber salons here. As long as nobody can enter from outside, 29 are too many for the area."

A few blocks down the street, Salim Mawed has a barber shop. He says his daily sales are about $20 compared to approximately $35 before the war, when he owned his shop. "Now I have to pay rent for the salon, the tools etc.," he says. "In the end nothing remains."

Before the war, around two-thirds of Nahr al-Bared's labour force worked within the camp's boundaries. As Palestinian refugees face heavy legal and social discrimination in the Lebanese labour market, working outside the camp is difficult. Unemployment has re-enforced the will of many to emigrate. Mawed says that "If they opened the door to emigration, nobody would stay. I'd be the first one. I'd leave everything here."

Since mid-October, the Lebanese army has allowed Lebanese citizens to enter the camp without extra permits, but only through al-Abdi checkpoint at the northern edge of the camp. However, the army's procedural change has neither attracted more Lebanese customers nor facilitated access to the camp.

A journalist who requested anonymity recently entered Nahr al-Bared along with a Lebanese friend. "We counted 11 commands and questions to move 10 meters: 'Your ID! Open! Step out! Park!' It's terrible. This is a civilian area, not an army base! It's collective punishment of the people."

A Lebanese employee of a non-governmental organization operating in Nahr al-Bared requesting anonymity says she still uses her permit, although she could enter without, as access is easier and quicker: "I rather spend 20 to 30 minutes more in our field office helping people instead of waiting until my name is cleared."

The Lebanese government has declared that once rebuilt, Nahr al-Bared camp should become a model for better relationships between Palestinian refugees and their Lebanese hosts. But Hassan Mawed is tired of hearing this talk over and over. Raising his voice, he asks, "A model for what? A model for a prison? For a siege, checkpoints and humiliation? It should be a model that gives us freedom, civil rights, the right to work and property rights!"

Reacting to increasing complaints by residents, the media, local organizations and parties as well as international organizations operating in Nahr al-Bared, the army recently issued a statement claiming the security arrangements "aim first and foremost to preserve people's safety through preventing the infiltration of terrorists and wanted people, smuggling of weapons, explosives, and illegal material."

However, Marwan Abdulal, the Palestine Liberation Organization's official in charge of the reconstruction of Nahr al-Bared, has demanded the army lift the siege of the camp. According to Abdulal, "The basic requirement for the recovery of the camp's economy and social life is the removal of the checkpoints or at least the abolishment of the permits."

Similarly, UNRWA's Charlie Higgins considers the Lebanese army's security arrangements "a significant barrier to the recovery of the camp in every sense." It remains uncertain if the Lebanese government and the army will respond to these complaints and allow Nahr al-Bared to be rebuilt or if the siege will remain in place and the promises unfulfilled.

This report was first published here by Electronic Lebanon.

"New Lebanese security approach rejected by Palestinians"

Recent inter-factional clashes in Lebanon's Ain al-Hilweh refugee camp once more illustrated the fragile security situation in some of its Palestinian camps. Lebanese plans to take over security within the camps are rejected by the Palestinians.

The new year had hardly begun when the sounds of gunfire and rocket- propelled grenades rocked Ain al-Hilweh camp on the outskirts of the Lebanese coastal city Saida. The most recent clash broke out when fighters belonging to the militant Islamist group Jund ash-Sham attacked an office of the mainstream Fatah movement within the camp. The fierce fighting was contained and eventually stopped when the camp's security committee intervened.

Ain al-Hilweh and other refugee camps are home to various Palestinian nationalist groups, but also host different Islamist forces that the Lebanese government considers a threat to the state's security and stability. In 2007, one of those groups called Fatah al-Islam engaged the Lebanese army in a 15-week battle in Nahr al-Bared, the country's most northern camp. Nahr al- Bared was reduced to rubble, and 30,000 fled.

Lebanon hosts around 250,000 Palestinian refugees, many living in 12 officially recognised refugee camps. They have no education or employment rights comparable to the Lebanese. The Cairo Agreement of 1969 put the camps under control of the Palestine Liberation Organisation (PLO), and banned Lebanese security forces from entering.

Although the Lebanese government withdrew from the Cairo Agreement in the late 1980s and theoretically reclaimed its rule over the camps, the state has refrained from exercising its authority. Politically, the camps have been ruled by popular committees, while security committees have been serving as an internal police force.

When in 2006 Fatah al-Islam trickled into Nahr al-Bared however, the camp only had a weak popular committee and no functioning security committee. The Palestinian parties were divided, and consequently failed to push the well-armed Islamist group out of the camp, effectively allowing it to take over.

At the 2008 international donor conference for the recovery and reconstruction of Nahr al-Bared, the Lebanese government declared that once rebuilt the camp would "not return to the environmental, social and political status quo ante that facilitated its takeover by terrorists", but be put under its authority.

It announced that the rule of law would be enforced in the camp by community and proximity policing through the Internal Security Forces (ISF). Pointing to the destroyed camp as an experimental ground, the government stressed that success in Nahr al-Bared would promote a security model for other Palestinian refugee camps.

In October 2009, a senior ISF delegation toured the United States to study community policing. The visit was part of a programme sponsored by the U.S. Department of State's Bureau of Narcotics and Law Enforcement. Assistance under the programme includes construction of an ISF police station, and equipment such as patrol vehicles and duty gear. Since 2006, the U.S. government has provided Lebanon with more than half a billion dollars in security assistance.

Community policing is an approach to police work in specific, well-defined areas. In theory, it builds on mutually beneficial ties between police and community members, and emphasises community partnership and problem solving. The community police benefits from expertise and resources existing within communities.

Marwan Abdulal, the PLO person in charge of the reconstruction of Nahr al- Bared doesn't like the idea of implementing the concept in the camps. "It doesn't take into account the peculiarity of Lebanon and the Palestinians' presence in Lebanon," he says. If Lebanese law remained discriminatory, and is enforced, he said the experiment is doomed to fail.

"The concept is fashionable. The word 'community' sells," says Amr Saededine, an independent journalist. He says community policing is about getting people to spy on one another, and report to the security service. Ghassan Abdallah, director general of the Palestinian Human Rights Organisation, points at polls indicating that a large majority of the refugees do not trust the Lebanese security forces, and object to them controlling the camps.

Beirut and the government palace are far from the ruins, rubble and muddy streets of Nahr al-Bared. Here, the reality is different. More than two years after the war, about 20,000 refugees have returned to the outskirts of the camp, which is still surrounded by army posts, barbed wire and five checkpoints. Access for Palestinians and foreigners is only permitted with extra permits issued by the Mukhabarat, the Lebanese army's intelligence service.

The Mukhabarat constantly patrol the streets and have been recruiting scores of new informants. An atmosphere of fear has spread across Nahr al-Bared. People avoid talking about sensitive issues such as the Lebanese state or its security apparatus in the presence of people they don't know.

Women especially are recruited. Informants mostly get paid in phone cards. Others receive practical benefits like easier access to the camp. A social worker who doesn't want to be identified says, "It's as if they planted a virus within society, which is difficult to get rid of." Living under military rule and having no security committee, the camp's residents are unable to clamp down on the informants.

The army's control over daily life "makes people explode at some point," says Sakher Sha'ar, a hairdresser in Nahr al-Bared's main street. "Why do they treat us this way? Why don't they treat us like the residents of the surrounding Lebanese communities? We're not their enemies." Many refugees remember the Palestinian revolution in the late 1960s which was a reaction to the humiliating rule of the army's intelligence branch known as the 'deuxième bureau'. The uprising started in Nahr al-Bared.

A few months ago, the ISF set up a police post at the northern edge of Nahr al-Bared. The PLO's Marwan Abdulal welcomes steps to transform the military zone into a civilian area. But he says "the problem is that when the ISF entered, the army remained present." Indeed, the ISF's role in the camp is currently almost zero, while the army keeps control, intimidating and arresting people.

The Lebanese ministry of interior seems unsure how to let the ISF enforce the law. "They would have to imprison the whole camp," says journalist Amr Saededine. "Palestinians are forbidden to own property, to work in many professions, to open a shop, to found a civil society organisation..." Serious law enforcement in the camps by the ISF would ultimately require a fundamental change in Lebanon's discriminating law.

The issue at stake in Nahr al-Bared is not just its future security arrangements, but its governance in general. The PLO has realised the need for a reform of the popular committee. Abdulal suggests a civilian body similar to a municipality, consisting of the parties as well as representatives of the civil society.

On internal security, the PLO suggests self-governance to counter the government's intention to introduce community policing. Pointing to the successful model practised in Syria, Abdulal says there should be a Palestinian police force attached to the popular committee and coordinating with the ISF, which should remain outside the camp.

A similar model has informally been practised in most Palestinian refugee camps in Lebanon. Their security committees have been coordinating with the Lebanese authorities, and have repeatedly handed over suspects to the state. Amr Saededine argues that if there was a serious attempt to re- organise camp governance and security, one would have to look at how society itself used to solve its problems, "but dropping the Anglo-Saxon concept of community policing by parachutes on the camp is irrational."

After some Lebanese media recently reported on a stun-grenade attack in Rashidiyeh camp in Lebanon's south, Sultan Abu al-Aynayn, a Fatah official, accused them of bloating up this personal act and depicting it as having political and security dimensions. He argued that this steady focus on Palestinians as a security problem obscures their demands for civil and social rights.

Abdulal insists that it is impossible to have Lebanese state security without human security for Palestinians. "There has to be a general feeling of security among Palestinians, in the political, economic, social and cultural sense."

In Lebanon, Palestinians are still seen solely through security eyes. In Nahr al- Bared, the government has allowed the army to play a major role in the reconstruction project. It hasn't shown will to revise its treatment of Palestinians and finally - after more than 60 years of their presence - abolish the legal discrimination against them. Current developments in the laboratory called Nahr al-Bared point to a one-sided imposition of direct rule on Palestinians rather than a "mutually beneficial partnership" between them and their hosts.

This report was first published here by IPS Inter Press Service.

"Police Smash School for Undocumented Migrants"

The Zurich police have raided and demolished an autonomously run school where undocumented migrants held language classes. The raid came as the Swiss government admitted that its harsh treatment of undocumented asylum- seekers has partly failed, and following an announcement that it is again planning a revision of federal asylum law.

Several police officers, half of them in riot gear, stormed the Autonomous School Zurich (ASZ) Thursday. After chasing away the squatters and holding off protesting supporters with pepper spray, officers started confiscating teaching materials and technical utilities. The police partly demolished the single-storey building and removed its windows, leaving it uninhabitable.

The ASZ had started operating at the Allenmoos School on Zurich's outskirts last April, when activists squatted the empty building. The autonomous school operated according to do-it-yourself principles. Anyone could take, or offer, courses for free. As a result, a broad variety of training ranging from open-source computer courses to classes in solar energy fundamentals was available.

The biggest group using the facilities has been the grassroots association 'Education for All' founded by migrants and anti-racist activists to support undocumented migrants. The project is intended to be a form of resistance against exclusion, discrimination and oppression, the association claims.

Teacher Ruedi Salzmann who witnessed the police raid said he was taken aback. "We expected to stay until summer." The Zurich city council had said late November that it tolerated the occupation, and expected it to last until summer 2010, when construction for a new project was due to start. The city council argued that removing the squatters would only lead to further occupations and more costs as buildings would have to be guarded.

Michael Raissig, an activist with the Right-to-Stay Collective says many volunteers have invested a lot of time and energy in running the project. "It's a hard blow for us that all we've built up is demolished within a few hours and without prior warning."

Switzerland is estimated to host 100,000 to 200,000 so-called 'sans- papiers', undocumented migrants. Over the past few years, the country with a population of almost eight million has repeatedly tightened its asylum policy. In 2009, approximately 16,000 people applied for asylum in Switzerland, while about 5,000 asylum-seekers either 'voluntarily' left the country or were deported.

In September 2006, a harsh revision of the asylum law was accepted by 68 percent of voters. The revision meant asylum claims would only be looked into if the requesting person presented valid identification papers such as a passport. Some migrants don't bring identity papers with them; others who fled oppression were never issued papers by their authorities for political reasons.

In late December, the Swiss Federal Office for Migration came up with new proposals to "facilitate" the current asylum regime. It stated that certain measures such as the non-admission decision had failed to increase the number of asylums seekers properly declaring their identity, as in 2009 only 29 percent (compared to 26 percent in 2006) of the asylum seekers actually presented valid documents.

The Federal Office for Migration now plans to consider asylum claims even if the applicant doesn't present proper identity papers. But it intends to cut appeal deadlines for negative decisions by half to 15 days.

Harsh asylum laws have pushed more migrants into illegality, and their asylum claims were either denied in the first place or at a later stage during the regular process. 'Sans-papiers' teacher Ruedi Salzmann says for Swiss authorities asylum seekers "cease to exist as soon as they receive a negative decision. However, the fact is that they're still here." Through the squatted school for undocumented migrants, he said, these people became visible and audible again.

Bah Saidou, himself a 'sans-papiers', was one of the teachers at ASZ. He taught other migrants the basics of German language. He's upset about the police raid and says having no place to teach and learn has dire consequences for himself and his fellows, as learning the German language facilitated their integration into society. "Most of us live in emergency centres and don't have access to education. The autonomous school has for many of us been the only chance to educate."

Zurich police said they carried out the raid due to an illegal and dangerous electric cable installed by the squatters. Mario Cortesi, spokesperson for the city police, said the raid was due to security reasons; a caretaker from a nearby school suffered an electric shock when he checked the wires. The squatters say the city had offered to install a provisional cable but failed to do so, forcing them to help themselves.

"This is just a pretence to get rid of the school and oppose the unwelcome self-initiative by the 'sans-papiers'," says Michael Raissig. His colleague Saidou says if the problem was really only technical, matters could have been discussed together to find a solution. "But simply raiding the school and confiscating all our material isn't a solution."

Raissig says their project isn't dead. Teacher Salzmann says 'Education for All' is discussing future steps and that there's a strong consensus to continue. "We'll look for a new place and are ready to hold classes in public squares or facilities."

This report was first published here by IPS Inter Press Service.

"Rebellious rhymes from a destroyed refugee camp"

The hip-hop beats ringing through the muddy, unlit streets of this burnt-out Palestinian refugee camp seem incongruous. But the rhymes are camp-grown - and courageous.

"I'm carrying worries / From inside a destroyed camp / I'm preparing an attack / Words that keep turning in my head / Nahr al-Bared is fenced-in with iron bars / In the newspapers they speak about suffering / Every word makes sense."

Farhan Abu Siyam, 21, is Nahr al-Bared's first and only rapper. Going by the name of MC Tamarrod (which translates as MC Rebellion), he grew up in the Palestinian refugee camps of Nahr al-Bared and Bourj al-Barajneh.

Abu Siyam knows that hip-hop has few takers within Palestinian society. "Many people don't like rap because they're against Western music and its elements like the beat."

But he asks the community to give rap a chance, stressing that he does not sing in a foreign language, but uses Arabic. "I rap in our Palestinian dialect, in the language of the camps where I was born and grew up."

Abu Siyam says he is inspired by the hip-hop crews ‘Katibe 5’ and ‘I-Voice’ in Beirut's Bourj al-Barajneh refugee camp and rap groups in Palestine such as ‘Ramallah Underground’ or ‘DAM’ which are regarded as the founders of Palestinian hip-hop and have a style that is serious rather than entertainment-oriented.

Palestinian rappers are usually inseparable from their origins, stress their marginalised or oppressed situation and use their words as weapons in their political and social struggles.

Groups direct their rhymes at the discrimination that the approximately 250,000 Palestinians in Lebanon face as well as at their own society's establishment, accusing NGOs and the political parties of being corrupt and betraying the Palestinian cause.

Abu Siyam raps about the miserable post-war life in Nahr al-Bared. Together with the autonomous media collective 'a-films', he has produced a short video clip.

Gesturing in front of a bullet-riddled wall in a burnt-out building, he revisits the camp's devastating war in 2007 and raps: "Asking me what happened? / Those who hit have run / Those who passed by have looted / And some of them have burned."

Two and a half years ago, the Nahr al-Bared camp in Lebanon's north was totally destroyed in a war between the Lebanese Armed Forces (LAF) and the non-Palestinian militant group Fatah al-Islam.

Two-thirds of the camp's former inhabitants now live on its outskirts in damaged homes and temporary shacks. Abu Siyam says many people sing or talk about Nahr al-Bared, "but nobody speaks out about the war, the hopelessness and oppression."

Nahr al-Bared is still closed down and designated as a military zone by the LAF which mans five checkpoints around the camp. Access is restricted and journalists are not allowed to work freely. "We're surrounded and live like in a prison. In other camps people can come and go in a normal way," says Abu Siyam.

The LAF's presence in and around Nahr al-Bared is one of the main topics Abu Siyam raps about:

"I'm Palestinian and don't submit to the rule of your army / Stop building this wall! / From the first time I saw you, I knew what you wanted / 'Hey you, give me your ID, where's the permit?'"

The Lebanese army states the checkpoints and permits are necessary to preserve the safety of the people "through preventing the infiltration of terrorists and wanted people, smuggling of weapons, explosives, and illegal material."

However, many refugees in Nahr al-Bared feel humiliated and oppressed by the LAF. Abu Wissam Gharib, leader of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) in Nahr al-Bared, says he understands that warfare required an army, "but once the war is over, why does the army stay?"

Gharib wonders why he needs to have special permit to return home to Nahr al-Bared when he can travel everywhere else in Lebanon on his ID.

Abu Siyam records in al-Mukhayyamat studio in the Palestinian refugee camp of Bourj al-Barajneh, located in the suburbs of Beirut.

"The parties are two-faced / Their authority is silly / Fortified by lies / Their politics are sick."

Abu Siyam is aware of the power of his lyrics. "We're not against the Lebanese system, but they deprive us of our rights."

Palestinian youth do not see a future in Lebanon and see emigration as a way out. When a delegation from donor states recently visited Nahr al-Bared, the residents of the temporary housing units did not ask them for more aid, but for visas allowing them to emigrate.

In Nahr al-Bared the slow reconstruction and the continued presence of the LAF have led to widespread unemployment.

Charlie Higgins, project manager for Nahr al-Bared's reconstruction at the United Nations Works and Relief Agency for Palestine refugees (UNRWA) describes the economic situation in the camp as "stuck," with the economy yet to regenerate and employment situation unimproved since the war ended.

Abu Siyam hopes that whenever Nahr al-Bared is rebuilt there will be a music studio where he might record his songs. He will have to drive to Beirut to record the two new rap numbers that he is currently working on.

This report was first published here by IPS Inter Press Service and republished by the Daily Star.

"Refugees Remain Sceptical of Nahr al-Bared Reconstruction"

More than two years after their refugee camp was destroyed in a war between the Lebanese army and the Islamist militant group Fatah al-Islam, Nahr al-Bared refugees Wednesday witnessed the start of the camp’s reconstruction. Their relief is mixed with scepticism, however.

Established in 1949, the Palestinian refugee camp of Nahr al-Bared in north Lebanon’s Akkar region has become home to more than 30,000 residents. In the summer of 2007, the camp was totally destroyed as the Lebanese Armed Forces (LAF) fought a group of well-equipped, mostly non-Palestinian militants who had taken over the camp.

During the 15-weeks of war, a local grassroots commission was quickly formed. By early 2008 it had worked out a master plan for the camp’s reconstruction, which was approved by the Lebanese government and the United Nations Works and Relief Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA).

Rubble removal and the actual rebuilding works were delayed several times, however. In spring 2009, the foundation stone for the reconstruction of Nahr al-Bared was laid and ceremonial speeches were given, but the bulldozed area remained untouched. Again in the summer of 2009 work was to start, but the leader of the Free Patriotic Movement and former general Michel Aoun blocked the government decision to rebuild Nahr al-Bared and a two-month moratorium issued by Lebanon’s state council stopped all work on the ground.

In the early morning hours of Nov. 25, officials of the UNRWA, representatives of various Palestinian parties and community organisations - including displaced residents of Nahr al-Bared - guarded by Lebanese soldiers, witnessed and applauded as concrete for the basements of the first houses was poured from a truck.

Mahmoud Eshtawi, a father of two, has been living in a 18 square meter iron barracks adjacent to Nahr al-Bared for the last one and a half years. Currently, his only job is to drive the local kindergarten bus twice a day. He feels relieved: "We’ve been living in very difficult conditions in our barracks. What I’ve seen today makes me feel better and gives me hope that they’ll rebuild the camp." His sister Manal nods: "I’m happy. Although not knowing how long it will take, I have hope to return home. Our return is most important."

The various delays over the last two years have caused widespread pessimism among Nahr al-Bared’s refugees. "From the beginning until today, we’ve faced a lot of obstacles and delays. Within the last two and a half years we could have rebuilt the camp," says Abu Khaled Freji. He’s been working with the Nahr al-Bared Reconstruction Commission (NBRC) since its establishment during the war. He explains that people who have been living in garages and barracks often felt betrayed and lied to, adding: "This is just the beginning, nothing more. Always we’ve swung between hope and frustration. Living in a very difficult and tiring situation, I’m cautious to feel extremely happy just because they poured some concrete today."

Access to Nahr al-Bared’s outskirts as well as to the construction site is still controlled by the LAF. Amr Saededine, a journalist closely following developments in Nahr al-Bared points to the LAF as a big obstacle to the reconstruction process. "The army interferes in anything. Nahr al-Bared was declared a military zone. But this here is a civilian area, not an army base!"

Saededine says the LAF have over and over demanded changes in the master plan for the reconstruction. "In the beginning, the army didn’t want the houses to have balconies, for example. They also demanded the streets to be wide enough so tanks could enter."

The funding for Nahr al-Bared’s reconstruction is yet another open question. As for now, UNRWA has only been able to raise about a third of the 328 million dollars required. Last week, representatives of about a dozen donor organisations visited Nahr al-Bared. UNRWA officials have recently expressed their optimism that the beginning of the reconstruction and the forming of the new Lebanese government will attract more funding.

As a result of the LAF’s siege of the camp and the destruction of its businesses, unemployment has drastically spread in Nahr al-Bared. Wednesday, many young males gained hope. Mohammad Eshtawi has spent the last two years mostly drinking coffee and sitting around, only rarely having a chance to work and earn some money. His mood has changed to cautious optimism. "We’ve been waiting for the start of the reconstruction for a long time. I hope that many of us will find work in the reconstruction," Eshtawi said. "It is a long undertaking. I hope me and my father will be employed there, too."

This report was first published here by IPS Inter Press Service.

"Muslims Targeted in the Name of Minarets"

Switzerland's Muslim community is witnessing a xenophobic campaign by the political right-wing ahead of a vote next month on the banning of Islamic minarets.

The initiative 'Against the construction of minarets' was submitted last year by a committee of politicians from the right-wing Swiss People's Party (SVP) and the conservative Federal Democratic Union (EDU). While the SVP holds 58 seats in Switzerland's National Council, the EDU only holds one of the the council's 200 seats. The committee says minarets are a "symbol for religious- political claims to power" and an instance of a creeping "Islamisation of Switzerland".

Aware of the unrest the initiative could provoke among Muslims around the world, the Swiss Federal Council, Switzerland's government, has asked voters to reject the amendment. Its call was followed by majorities against the initiative in the Council of States and the National Council, both chambers of the Swiss parliament.

Switzerland is home to about 350,000 Muslims, accounting for less than five percent of the population. Over the past 50 years, Muslim communities have built more than 150 mosques, mostly in homes, garages or in industrial areas. Only four minarets can be seen in the country, while construction of a fifth is legally disputed in Langenthal town.

Tensions are rising ahead of the Nov. 27 vote. Propaganda placards have led to lengthy debates in the media. One poster shows a veiled woman before a Swiss flag penetrated by several black minarets. The picture is accompanied by the words: "Stop. Yes to a ban on minarets."

Hisham Maizar heads the Federation of Islamic Umbrella Organisations, representing almost half the Islamic centres in Switzerland. "They claim that minarets will spread like mushrooms," he says. "It's unacceptable that minarets are presented like rockets and that the pictured woman symbolises an attitude which female Muslims can't identify with."

The initiative demands the addition of a single sentence to the Swiss constitution: "The construction of minarets is forbidden." For its critics, the story doesn't end here. "The initiative's real goal is not to avoid the construction of a few minarets in Switzerland," says Balthasar Glättli, secretary-general of Solidarité sans Frontières, an organisation promoting migrants' rights. "It's obvious that this campaign is about spreading fears of Islam and prejudices against people originating from Islamic countries."

Hisham Maizar, a Swiss doctor of Palestinian origin, is said to be Switzerland's most influential Muslim. He is also a founding member of the multi-faith Swiss Council of Religions. The national body made up of Jews, Christians and Muslims firmly rejects the initiative.

Maizar accuses the initiators of leading a proxy debate on Islam instead of minarets: "Their lack of arguments is indicated by their stereotyping: they claim that minarets stand for sharia, Islamisation and burqas. However, this isn't reflected in Switzerland's Islamic community at all. I can't remember when I last saw a woman wearing a burqa in this country."

Switzerland has experienced similar right-wing campaigns in recent years. In 2002 Swiss citizens voted on an initiative against 'asylum abuse'. A propaganda banner then showed a dark-skinned, black-haired man in black clothes, wearing black sunglasses and gloves, emerging from the middle of the Swiss flag and tearing it up. In 2007 and 2008, the SVP collected signatures for an initiative demanding the deportation of criminal foreigners, using the image of white sheep kicking a black sheep out of the Swiss flag.

"The initiative and the campaign have continuity as regards content and stand in a tradition of right-wing populist campaigning in Switzerland," says Damir Skenderovic, professor of contemporary history at the University of Fribourg near capital Bern. "However, the current focusing on a specific group is noticeable. The various migration-related votes and campaigns during the nineties were kept much more general. It was about 'the stranger' or 'the other', mainly in the form of asylum-seekers. Nowadays the focus is on one specific group, namely Muslim immigrants."

Skenderovic, who has published several studies on racism, right-wing extremism and migration politics in Switzerland, traces the origins of the right-wing discourse to the late eighties. "At that time splinter parties like Vigilance, National Action, and the Federal Democratic Union operated with the threat of an assumed Islamisation, the flooding of the Christian West by Islam. Nine-eleven definitely reinforced the discourse, but the phenomena itself has a much longer tradition."

As in many European countries, Muslims have often been depicted as being unable to integrate. The fiercest debates have erupted around veiled women, the refusal of some Muslim parents to let their daughters join swimming classes at school, and the conception of women in Islam in general. Maizar strongly disagrees with the widespread stereotype that all Muslims are the same: "The Muslim communities are very diverse. It's absurd to lump all Muslims together, as the populists are doing."

Balthasar Glättli points out that the hostile conception of Islam in Switzerland "is being nurtured totally independent of the number of Muslims in the country. It's an attempt to create a cultural unity among Swiss people. Such efforts usually serve less to define the enemy in detail, but more to create one's group identity vis-à-vis something external."

Valentina Smajli is originally from Kosovo - and Muslim. Living in Switzerland's Catholic heartland, she's active in the Social-Democratic Party and in various political projects on migrants' issues. She says that like herself, "many migrants from countries with a Muslim population treat their religion indifferently and don't define themselves through Islam. However, also these people sometimes are victims of hidden or frank anti-Muslim prejudices."

"Muslims in Switzerland are suffering from negative generalisations and headlines," agrees Andi Geu, co-director of the National Coalition Building Institute (NCBI), a Swiss institute devoted to fighting prejudice, racial discrimination and violence. "When looking for apprenticeship, work or housing, Muslims are often discriminated against."

Geu considers the SVP's anti-Muslim campaign a xenophobic effort "to keep its constituency mobilised and attached to the party. It's not about the minarets, it's about permanent election campaigning." NCBI is now running an information campaign on Islam to confront the new initiative.

Shahab, a young Kurdish refugee from Iraq living in Bern considers the anti- minaret initiative "a point of departure for right-wing attacks against all migrants in Switzerland. The initiative basically targets foreigners, not minarets," he says. "In the end two winners emerge: right-wing extremists and radical Islamists. For the latter it's becoming easier to present Muslims as an oppressed minority whose religious activities are being limited."

The current discourse on the 'Islamisation of Switzerland' can be seen in the tradition of what Skenderovic calls the 'discourse of overforeignisation'. The professor traces its origins back to the early 20th century. In Switzerland, the discourse's impact drastically increased before the Second World War: "Eventually, the discourse entered state policies and legislation. It continued in refugee policy and was strongly connected to anti-semitism in the thirties and the way the authorities dealt with Jewish refugees during the thirties and throughout the Second World War."

The discourse of 'overforeignisation' was revitalised in the sixties by state authorities, trade unions and right-wing populist parties, and became a keystone of splinter parties' agendas. Its continuity was largely connected to the radicalisation of the conservative Swiss People's Party.

"In the beginning of the nineties, specifically in 1991 and 1992, the SVP was organisationally and structurally more or less overtaken by Zurich's cantonal branch and the latter's agenda transferred to the federal SVP," says Skenderovic. "At that time, the SVP took over the discourse of 'overforeignisation' from the splinter parties, especially regarding asylum and integration policy."

Taking over radical right-wing parties' xenophobic agenda strengthened the SVP and was a key to its rise in the past two decades. On the national level, the SVP managed to swallow all parties on the right side of the political spectrum. In the 2007 federal elections, the last seat in the National Council held by the far-right party Swiss Democrats fell to the SVP, who won 29 percent of the vote.

In response to the anti-minaret placards, the local governments of Basel and Lausanne towns recently decided to prohibit their display. Various other cantons and cities have asked the Federal Commission against Racism for advice. The commission regards the images as reinforcing prejudices against Islam, presenting it as negative and potentially threatening.

But Hisham Maizar is against banning the posters. "I'm fundamentally against bans, and advocate freedom of speech. However, I'm clearly against the fact that the red lines of our democracy are crossed like this and that a specific group like the Muslims are attacked in such an impious way."

Balthasar Glättli says he too opposes restricting freedom of speech, but has some sympathy for those advocating the ban, because the campaign is really going way too far.

This report was first published here by IPS Inter Press Service.

"Undocumented Migrants Run Their Own School"

Switzerland is a tough place for asylum-seekers and undocumented migrants. In Zurich, they have been running a remarkable campaign for the past year, challenging the canton's asylum policy. Now, they have opened their own school.

"Please show me your homework!" Bah Saidou tells his students. Some hand in their papers, others haven't done anything, and a few are new in the class. The classroom is packed full. The lesson of the day focuses on grammar. This isn't a regular school though, Saidou isn't a usual teacher, and the students aren't quite common either. The class takes place in a squatted, autonomous school, and Saidou is a so-called "sans-papiers" - an undocumented migrant. The more than 60 students in the class are asylum-seekers, immigrants with temporary admission, and people whose stay is illegal under Swiss law.

It is estimated that Switzerland is home to 100,000 to 200,000 sans-papiers. Among them, three main groups can be distinguished: the first group consists of those who entered the country on work permits, didn't get them renewed but decided to stay. Those who came to Switzerland looking for clandestine employment make up the second category. As a consequence of Switzerland's harsh asylum policy, a third group is steadily growing. It contains migrants whose asylum request was rejected or not even looked into, and refugees who've lost their temporary admission when they were asked to leave because their countries of origin where considered "safe to return".

Saidou, one of the teachers at the school, is from Guinea. He came to Switzerland in September 2002. A few months later, he received a so-called NEE, a "non-admissibility-decision" on his asylum claim. Despite being obliged to leave the country, he stayed, and has been living in Switzerland illegally for the past six years. When in January 2008 the new asylum law came into effect, Saidou's living conditions drastically worsened. No longer receiving social aid, he was placed in an emergency centre and has been surviving on minimal assistance provided by Zurich's Department of Social Affairs.

The new Swiss asylum law left a tiny door open for illegalised migrants: The "provision for cases of hardship" allows sans-papiers, who have lived in Switzerland for at least five years and have "integrated very well", to file a request for a residency permit. The cantonal authorities of Zurich, however, put extremely difficult conditions for applicants, such as comparatively high skills in German language. At the same time, undocumented migrants have neither opportunity nor the means to visit language classes.

In December 2008, a group of sans-papiers squatted at a church in Zurich for more than two weeks, demanding their right to stay in Switzerland, and better living conditions. "Shortly after the occupation of the church and the talks with the canton's council, we and our supporters decided to establish language classes on our own," says Saidou. The project started with about 30 people. Today it serves more than 150 students. Classes for three different language levels - A1, A2 and B1 - are held.

Berhanu Tesfaye is one of the students at the school. Born in Ethiopia, he fled to Switzerland in 2000 and was issued a NEE twice. Then he filed a request under the hardship provision, but failed: "My application was rejected because my German language skills weren't good enough", Tesfaye explains. "Then I came to the school. Three months later I successfully passed an exam in A2, and four months later in B1. The certificate allows me to hand in an application again."

Waiting for the class to begin, Joao Antonio from Angola says he's happy with the course. He's been living in Switzerland for the past 15 years, most of the time illegally. His situation worsened when the new asylum law came into effect: "I lost my job and my home. Now I live in an emergency centre. I want to apply for a residency permit under the hardship provision and improve my language skills, that's why I've come to the school."

For undocumented migrants, the school is the only way to learn German. A woman from Nigeria who prefers to remain anonymous explains: "I came here in 2002. In 2003 I was allowed to attend classes, but this was stopped in 2004. I received a NEE and was no longer permitted to attend language classes. This school is my only way to learn the language properly."

Another student, Sayyed Mohammad Mumi, says learning German facilitates his daily life. He fled from Somalia and came to Switzerland in 2008. His asylum request was rejected, but he obtained temporary admission to Switzerland because he currently can't be sent back to his homeland. "For the first six months of my stay, I could attend classes," Mumi says. "Because the follow-up course is booked up, I decided to join the class at the autonomous school."

Bah Saidou, Mumi's teacher, seems to enjoy teaching German. He's assisted by a lady from Zurich. Irene Holliger says she's amazed by the students' motivation to learn and the joy in their eyes. She regards her engagement as an act of solidarity: "I'm retired. I have free time and want to support the refugees. All of us work as volunteers."

Although the autonomous school is in a squatted building, some expenses accrue. Berhanu Tesfaye regrets that some students can't attend all three classes per week. "Many students live in emergency centres far away from the school. We've raised some money with fundraising meals and a party. This allows us to cover travel expenses for many of the students, but it's not sufficient." Sans-papiers receive the equivalent of 60-70 Swiss francs (about as many dollars) per week if they register at the Department of Migration in Zurich. The amount isn't paid in cash, but in cheques for the biggest Swiss supermarket chain Migros.

Hardly able to survive on their cheques, the sans-papiers are bound to spend all of the money at Migros. More than a year ago, they and their supporters started to undermine the authorities' practice. Once a week they gather at the Refugees Welcome Café in Zurich, where they can sell their cheques for cash. This allows the migrants to spend their limited income a little more freely, for example for train tickets.

Bah Saidou is disturbed by the fact that Swiss politicians keep demanding foreigners' integration into Swiss society, but don't give them an opportunity to do so. His colleague Berhanu Tesfaye agrees: "Integration consists of different aspects such as access to education, the labour market and decent housing. However, we have no chance to visit a school, are forbidden to work, and live in fenced-off emergency-centres often far away from towns and villages." The autonomous school sent letters to communal authorities, asking for financial support to cover people's travel costs. The call has remained unanswered so far.

Undocumented migrants live in constant fear of being arrested, imprisoned and deported. On the blackboard of Saidou's classroom, a picture reminds students of Maria Dennis Díaz, a fellow sans-papiers who was deported to Colombia on Sep. 20. Diaz had lived in Switzerland for 12 years. Her 17- year-old son Juan Jacobo was also arrested. Despite being under-age, he was separated from his mother and is currently in custody.

Nevertheless, Tesfaye says he isn't afraid of a police raid at the school. "The police know that I live in an emergency centre. If they want to arrest me, they can come there or send me a summoning. Learning a language isn't a criminal act anyway."

Zurich's authorities are aware of the school. Hans Hollenstein, the canton's security director, admits the school is doing something positive. "They allow the migrants some integration for the time being. We can tolerate that. However, I want to make clear that these people are illegally here and have to leave the country as soon as possible."

For the activists, the school isn't just about the language classes. Bah Saidou, a major contributor to the sans-papiers' campaign, explains: "This is my way to struggle. We have realised that we have to stick together. The school is part of our struggle." Since squatting the church last winter, Zurich's sans-papiers have kept demanding better living conditions. "Unlike Zurich, governments of other cantons have proved more flexibility with sans-papiers," adds Tesfaye. "That's why we've started to establish our own structures. After squatting the church, we've talked to a lot of politicians and succeeded in raising awareness for the conditions we're living in, but on the ground nothing has improved so far."

In mid-August, one of the sans-papiers' busiest activists, Ishmail Fayé, was arrested. The man from Sierra Leone had prevented several deportation attempts. For the past year, he lived under Zurich's emergency regime and was forced to move from one emergency centre to the next on a weekly basis. Currently in custody at Zurich's airport prison, Fayé speaks of the canton's policy: "They want us to leave the country. That's why they're applying this strict regime. They try to make your life unbearable, so you leave."

The campaign for collective regularization, the right to stay for all, faces a rocky path. While other European countries such as Italy or Spain have repeatedly granted collective regularisations for thousands of undocumented migrants, Switzerland's government remains far from even considering it an option.

This report was first published here by IPS Inter Press Service.

"Nahr al-Bared Reconstruction Delays Protested"

Since the end of August, construction equipment in the Palestinian refugee camp of Nahr al-Bared, near the northern Lebanese city of Tripoli, has stood unused after the Lebanese State Council granted a two month moratorium for the reconstruction of the camp. Nahr al-Bared, home to approximately 30,000 refugees, was destroyed during a three-month-long battle between the Lebanese army and the militant group Fatah al-Islam in the summer of 2007.

Although a master plan for the reconstruction was already compiled by early 2008 and approved by the Lebanese government, the beginning of the construction works was delayed again and again. Ancient ruins were discovered beneath the rubble of the camp this spring, but few among the refugees believed the reports. For the last two years they heard too many -- often flimsy -- reasons for repeated delays in the reconstruction of the camp.

However, the archaeological findings were legitimate and the Lebanese Directorate General for Antiquities (DGA) became involved. Along with the UN agency for Palestine refugees (UNRWA) and the office of the Lebanese prime minister, a solution was found: before the different sectors of the old camp would be backfilled and the concrete foundations laid, the DGA would excavate and document the archaeological findings.

The delay is understandably frustrating for refugees who could hardly believe their eyes when, after almost two years, reconstruction finally began in Nahr al-Bared late last June. According to UNRWA, the backfilling first stage of the eight-stage plan was almost complete by the end of August and the laying of the concrete foundation was about to start when the agency was ordered by the Lebanese government to halt construction.

Amr Saededine, an organizer with the Nahr al-Bared Reconstruction Commission, told The Electronic Intifada, "There is a real fear in the camp based on previous experiences that the displacement will continue and they will not be allowed to return to Nahr al-Bared," referring to camps like Nabatiyeh, Tel al-Zatar and even areas of Shatila that were destroyed in the past and never rebuilt.

The leader of the opposition-aligned Free Patriotic Movement, former Lebanese General Michel Aoun, filed a plea this summer against the government's decision regarding the backfilling of the camp. On 18 August, the English-language Lebanese newspaper The Daily Star reported that the State Council, in light of Aoun's request, granted a moratorium for the time being. A definitive decision is expected in October.

Representatives of the Nahr al-Bared Reconstruction Commission accuse Lebanese politicians of using the archaeological findings for scoring political gains. The commission points to a discourse demanding the transformation of the ancient ruins into a tourist site. In a recent speech, Michel Aoun denied delaying the reconstruction of Nahr al-Bared but said: "It is the government's responsibility to purchase substitute lands to build the camp on, instead of rebuilding on the site where an archeological discovery was recently made." The commission meanwhile rejects resettling the refugees on lots surrounding Nahr al-Bared, calling Aoun's intentions "theoretical and unworkable."

Thousands of Nahr al-Bared residents organized a massive protest at the end of August at the entrance to the construction site, which was complemented by protests in other Palestinian refugee camps throughout Lebanon. Criticism not only targeted the halting of reconstruction, but also the Lebanese army's continued siege of the camp. The Lebanese army controls movement inside and at the perimeters of Nahr al-Bared, isolating the camp's residents and crippling its economy. On 16 September, the refugees took their protest to the streets of Tripoli where they were joined by Lebanese supporters.

Three protesters were shot dead and many others wounded at a demonstration during the military operations in Nahr al-Bared at the end of June 2007. Since then, protests have been limited to non-confrontational gatherings, but at a press conference on 3 September, activists from Nahr al-Bared hinted at launching a series of nonviolent direct actions and more strategic campaigns.

Saededine of the reconstruction commission stated that these latest protests were just the beginning: "There is an escalation happening now in the organizing against the halt to reconstruction. [The protests] began in Nahr al-Bared, then [the nearby refugee camp of] Baddawi, then Tripoli and next Beirut." He said that there would be a sit-in held on 12 October in downton Beirut "organized by all the camps in Lebanon, saying that we will not accept [a failure] to reconstruct Nahr al-Bared. This is also supported by forces in the Lebanese civil society [movement]."

Nahr al-Bared's refugees meanwhile stick to a slogan they've been using since the first days of their displacement in 2007. At the nearby Baddawi refugee camp, displaced families had taken refuge in schools which they refused to leave for other temporary shelter, claiming that they would only be satisfied by a return to Nahr al-Bared camp -- or to their property in Palestine.

This report was first published here by Electronic Lebanon.