Heritage as an Act of Resistance: How Place and Identity Are Remade in Kafr Aqab — Jerusalem

I read a research paper in English, published on 26-6-2026 in the International Journal of Heritage Studies (International Journal of Heritage Studies), titled "Restoring Palestinian Cultural Heritage under Settler Colonialism: Grassroots Practices in Kafr Aqab – Jerusalem" by the researcher Claudia Vlad, from the Department of Sociology at University College Dublin University College Dublin , in Dublin - Ireland.., noting that she works at the University of London, Department of History ..(History of Art and Archaeology)... and this study was sent to me by the well-known Dr. Srimati Mitra, who obtained her PhD from Harvard University in 2014, titled "The History of Money in Palestine from 1900 to the Present"

Below I include a summary of the most important points in this research paper about Kafr Aqab – Jerusalem, and the Riwaq Center, by the researcher Claudia Vlad:

This study focuses on efforts to rehabilitate and the cultural activities implemented by the Palestinian non-governmental institution, Riwaq, in the historic center of the town of Kafr Aqab. Kafr Aqab is described as the remaining border of the city of Jerusalem and a distinctive space in terms of its geographic and legal realities (it is the largest Palestinian neighborhood located in the northern part of East Jerusalem and its northernmost area, and it lies approximately 4 kilometers from the city of Ramallah and 14 kilometers from the Old City of Jerusalem.

Israel annexed the neighborhood in 1967, along with the rest of East Jerusalem, but it was subsequently physically isolated from the city center after the construction of the separation wall in the early years of this century, and access to Jerusalem became limited to passing through Qalandiya Checkpoint, which turned Kafr Aqab into a geographic and legal enclave; it lies geographically within the West Bank, yet it remains administratively affiliated with the Jerusalem Municipality.

This unique situation led to the emergence of a vacuum in governance and administration; the Israeli occupation municipality withdrew from providing basic services, while Palestinian contractors, in the absence of oversight and regulation, contributed to what was described as a "concrete jungle" as a result of intensive and unregulated urban expansion. Kafr Aqab also became a demographic refuge for Jerusalemite Palestinians. Due to the «Center of Life» policy implemented in 1995, along with the suspension of family reunification procedures, many Palestinians were forced to reside in Kafr Aqab to preserve their Jerusalem residency rights while at the same time being able to live with their Palestinian spouses who do not hold Jerusalem identity, and this led to an unprecedented population swell, increasing from about 15 thousand people in 2010 to more than 80 thousand people by 2015.

The study asserts that at the heart of the contemporary Palestinian scene, heritage is no longer merely stone remnants of the past or landmarks displayed in history books and museums. Rather, it has become a living arena of struggle in which identity and place are reshaped under the pressure of settler colonialism. In Kafr Aqab, north of Jerusalem, this fact manifests clearly, where heritage transforms from a traditional concept into an everyday tool of steadfastness and the reproduction of presence.

This transformation stems from a critique of what is known as the “authorized heritage discourse,” the globally dominant framework set by international institutions and archaeological experts, which focuses on major and “majestic” historical landmarks while marginalizing everyday life, villages, and popular memory. In the Palestinian case, this discourse is reflected in the intense focus on the Old City of Jerusalem, at the expense of rural and surrounding areas that constitute the real fabric of Palestinian life.

Kafr Aqab represents a stark example of the consequences of this marginalization intersecting with the reality of settler colonialism. The neighborhood, although administratively within the boundaries of the Jerusalem Municipality, is effectively isolated from it by the separation wall and military checkpoints. This separation created a unique state of urban chaos, lack of planning, and declining public services, alongside a high population density that made the area one of the most fragile and complex spaces in Jerusalem.

But at the heart of this reality, cultural initiatives emerge attempting to redefine the meaning and role of heritage. The “Riwaq Center” stands at the forefront of these efforts, through projects that do not merely protect old buildings but rather rethink the function of heritage itself. Instead of heritage being a fixed symbol of the past, it turns into a living practice connected to people and their daily lives.

One of the most important of these shifts is the focus on oral memory and everyday experiences instead of official national narratives. By documenting village stories, the tales of the elderly, and the experiences of women and families, an alternative narrative of Palestinian identity is constructed, one that does not derive solely from grand symbols but from the details of ordinary life. This shift redistributes the centrality of history and gives a voice to the margins that have long been marginalized.

Alongside this, projects that redraw geography work to dismantle the reality imposed on the ground. Through alternative maps of the Jerusalem countryside, villages are reconnected to one another and the Palestinian geography is imagined as an interconnected unit despite the wall and checkpoints. These maps are used not only as documentation tools but as symbolic tools of resistance that reshape the awareness of place and restore the historical interconnectedness between villages and the city.

Concurrently, the concept of “removing dilapidation” offers a completely different approach to dealing with historic buildings. Instead of converting them into static archaeological sites or closed museums, they are repurposed as lively social and cultural spaces. Here heritage becomes part of daily life, not merely a spectacle for viewing. Old buildings are transformed into centers for gathering, education, and community activity, reinforcing the presence of residents in their places despite all forms of isolation and marginalization.

This approach redefines the relationship between people and place. Heritage no longer has value solely in itself, but becomes the result of daily practices: movement, meeting, storytelling, and participation. In this sense, Kafr Aqab transforms from a marginalized area into a space for producing meaning and identity simultaneously.

But this transformation cannot be separated from the broader context of the occupation and settler colonialism, which seeks to dismantle Palestinian place and reshape it through control of movement, resources, and borders. In this context, remaining on the land becomes an act of resistance in itself, and heritage becomes part of the system of “steadfastness” that preserves Palestinian presence in the face of attempts at removal.

At the international level, the human rights discourse is also employed to present these experiences, as happened in artistic and architectural participations on global platforms. However, this discourse often reduces Palestinians to the image of the victim. Therefore, these initiatives seek to redirect the narrative towards highlighting the Palestinian as an actor, a maker of meaning, and a producer of heritage, not merely a subject of suffering.

In this framework, heritage becomes more than preserving the past. It is a tool for reimagining the future, rebuilding the relationship with the land, and producing new forms of belonging. While settler colonialism continues to reshape and control geography, these initiatives work to reshape the consciousness of place from below and from within everyday life itself.

In Kafr Aqab, heritage is not preserved in museums but practiced in the streets, homes, and daily encounters. And here precisely lies the strength of this model: in turning what is marginalized into a center, what is forgotten into a tool of resistance, and what is material into a living act of reproducing presence!

In this sense, Palestinian heritage becomes not only a memory of the past but an open project for the present and the future — a project that redefines the meaning of being present in a place that is continuously reshaped under unequal conditions.

Heritage is not only memory... it is an act of resistance