So many important books and essays being published about the Palestinian genocide, but DISCIPLINE (UQP Books 2025) by Randa Abdel-Fattah is impressive and unique because it is a contemporary fictional tale that explores the complexities and nuances of the current situation through the lives, choices and beliefs of her characters, the timely world events and reactions by major powers, and the Australian setting which gives us an insight into the modern trauma, racism, controversial attitudes and ideologies which are happening right now.
The arresting red and green cover is a striking reveal of the passion, energy and fight that is contained within these pages.
I learnt so much from this book but never felt it was didactic or lecturing. In fact, I think the author takes great care to present the issue from many differing sides, proffering the perhaps obvious position that not all Islamic people will feel the same, and not all Jewish or Israeli people will have the same views. Through the setting and situations she creates, the narrative asks the reader to constantly question what we see and hear, and why we believe what we do. She challenges our perhaps entrenched world view and asks deeper questions not only about the historical aspects of this conflict, but the current issues that affect us today.
Abdel-Fattah does this through the clever use of two storytellers: Hannah is a journalist with a young child, struggling to remain an objective and balanced reporter while honouring the voices and troubles in her own community. Ashraf is an academic who is determined to revive his flagging career but is continually confronted by bureaucratic red tape and university politics which hamstring him from separating what is right / his ambition / what his colleagues expect.
Both are in invidious positions. They each have a job to do and their respective employers expect and demand certain guidelines and parameters to be met, and specific language and views be used, curtailed or excised altogether. Free speech (for the media) and free thought (in the academic world) are widely promoted as cornerstones of those institutions, and yet when incidents occur that threaten the power of these organisations, the goal posts shift as to what is and what is not acceptable.
The inciting incident in the novel is when a young (18-year-old) Year 12 student from an Islamic college is arrested after participating in a protest against a university’s ties to an Israeli weapons manufacturer. Nabil is by law an adult, yet still in school. He is young enough to still be developing nuance around his views and how to best express them. But he is old enough to be detained on charges of extremism, simply by wearing a particular item of clothing, or displaying certain colours or holding a sign. Some sectors of the community are outraged that he has been protesting; some are just as horrified that he has been targeted.
Both Hannah and Ashraf hold relatively privileged positions in Australian society. They have important jobs, secure relationships, and a platform they can use with relative safety (or so they believe, compared to the powerless injustice of those living in Gaza). But this is tested, and the author depicts this is a nuanced and complex way. Ashraf fears for his absent wife and daughters, who have chosen a more conservative path. Hannah wants to report sympathetically but in a way that her bosses will approve (otherwise her articles will be canned altogether). And as each day passes, more and more bombs drop on Gaza, and while Ramadan brings the local community together, every day increases concerns for family and friends living in Palestine.
Meanwhile, the school involved is advocating for the safety of its students and its right to religious teachings, while also wanting to make it clear that it is not a ‘hot-bed of terrorism or radicalisation’, as some media outlets are claiming.
What I love most about this book is the nuance. Muslims, Palestinians, Israelis, Arabs, migrant Australians, far-left, far-right, pacifists, terrorists, feminists, ideologists, protesters … all are labels bandied about, sometimes true and sometimes only partly true. What is in each individual’s heart is so much more than a label. Sometimes people do the right thing for the wrong reason, or the wrong thing for the right reason. People do step outside the law, but perhaps it is the law that needs calibrating, not people’s actions? Different generations react to the same situations in very different ways.
But nevertheless, along with the nuance is a clear message of support for a horrific conflict that demands our attention. Written in brilliant and intellectual prose, but with relatable family scenarios, Abdel-Fattah does ask us to question everything but she does not allow that to obscure her message about the continuing unfolding disaster in Gaza – the famine, the lack of shelter, the attacks on civilians and medical personnel, the utter horror of genocide that is being enacted on the world stage, while world leaders respond in various ways, some sympathetic, some not, but nobody seemingly willing to actually step in and stop the atrocity. Abdel-Fattah manages to both convey the subtleties and restrictions of the situation (particularly in Australian institutions) while simultaneously highlight the inhumanity that is happening right now.
Nothing is ever black and white, and this book shows how the rules and norms of (Australian) society can restrict attempts by even the most well-meaning people to seek justice. It also demonstrates the cruel psychological trauma this evokes in people constantly trying (sometimes succeeding but often failing) to get the right thing done, and to achieve action and change. DISCIPLINE is a battle cry of a book, shouting: Do not give up! We see you!