Perfect Victims: And the Politics of Appeal

El-Kurd lays the groundwork for his broader argument by documenting the dehumanization of Palestinians and the global mechanisms that enable and normalize their suffering. He describes how Palestinian death is rendered ordinary—so routine that it barely registers in global consciousness. The chapter begins with a meditation on the pervasiveness of death in Palestinian life, likening media reports of mass killings to weather forecasts: They are detached, matter-of-fact, and devoid of context or accountability.

El-Kurd asserts that this widespread detachment is not accidental but systemic. Journalists, politicians, diplomats, and academics participate—often unconsciously—in a machinery of language and narrative that erases the perpetrator, obscures the crime, and diminishes the humanity of the victim. Using the metaphor of the sniper, he critiques not only those who enact violence directly, but also those who make such violence palatable through sanitized discourse. These “snipers,” El-Kurd argues, exist across institutions: In newsrooms, lecture halls, and government offices. They may never hold a weapon, but their complicity is no less deadly.

The chapter then explores how Palestinians have been denied the full spectrum of human identity. They are often confined to a false dichotomy—either perfect victims or dangerous terrorists. To be granted a hearing in public discourse, they must appear docile, grieving, and depoliticized. Bereaved Palestinians are permitted to mourn, but not to contextualize their grief. Survivors may speak, but only if their stories are stripped of ideology and collective meaning. Any expression of resistance, anger, or national aspiration is quickly pathologized.

El-Kurd also examines the internal consequences of this dehumanization, showing how Palestinians, over generations, have internalized the burden of proving their own worthiness. From media appearances to daily interactions with Western visitors, Palestinians often feel compelled to explain, soften, or justify their existence—to adopt a “politics of appeal” aimed at securing basic empathy. This performance, he argues, is both exhausting and degrading, reinforcing the very hierarchies it seeks to navigate.

Finally, the chapter criticizes the asymmetric global response to violence and mourning. While Israeli deaths trigger widespread international grief and symbolic gestures, Palestinian lives and losses are often met with indifference or conditional sympathy. El-Kurd concludes that this imbalance is not incidental, but essential to maintaining the current geopolitical order. Palestinian death, he argues, sustains the status quo, and Palestinian rage is treated not as a natural response but as a threat. The chapter sets the stage for a broader interrogation of the narratives, systems, and assumptions that define global engagement with Palestine.

El-Kurd interrogates the concept of “humanization” and the political costs that come with attempting to be recognized as human in a world structured by colonialism. He opens by recounting how he was advised to “humanize” his grandmother in his writing by omitting anything too bitter, angry, or politically charged—removing the more complicated or unpalatable aspects of her character in favor of a softened, sanitized version of her story. This anecdote becomes the launching point for a broader critique of the logic that governs public sympathy for Palestinians.

El-Kurd defines the modern humanization project as a representational strategy—sometimes well-intentioned, sometimes cynical—that demands Palestinians present themselves in “respectable” and “relatable” terms. This typically includes highlighting innocence, helplessness, or victimhood while omitting traits that suggest political conviction, militancy, or anger. In order to be mourned or defended, a Palestinian must first prove that they meet externally imposed standards of civility and restraint. El-Kurd describes this expectation as a kind of performance—a script of idealized, sanitized behavior that both Palestinians and their allies are pressured to follow.

He notes that this dynamic exists beyond the Palestinian context as well, drawing parallels to how Black victims of police violence or survivors of sexual assault are defended through tropes of innocence: Sobriety, compliance, youth, or mental illness. In each case, public recognition depends not on the wrongness of the violence, but on the “worthiness” of the victim.

According to El-Kurd, the logic of humanization is deeply classed, racialized, and political. Those with elite access, such as through possessing press credentials or Western passports, may find it easier to be “humanized,” while poor, angry, or noncompliant Palestinians remain excluded from sympathy. El-Kurd critiques how this logic manifests even in obituaries, where the profession, demeanor, or political beliefs of deceased Palestinians are emphasized not as facts but as moral justifications for their grief.

He warns that this framework implicitly shifts the burden from the colonizer to the colonized. Rather than scrutinizing systems of occupation, dispossession, or surveillance, the focus becomes whether the oppressed have “earned” dignity through proper conduct. He argues that this approach reinforces colonial values and leaves behind those Palestinians who fail to meet its narrow criteria, such as the poor or the armed. El-Kurd suggests that even Palestinians who die waving white flags may still be excluded from mourning, because their humanity is never assumed.

Toward the end of the chapter, he engages with counterarguments, such as those who believe in moral authority or see “respectability” as organic rather than performative. He acknowledges that some Palestinians reject his critique and instead see virtue in adopting a universally “ethical” posture. However, El-Kurd maintains that such views overlook the asymmetries of power, language, and culture that shape global discourse. Ultimately, he asserts that the project of humanization, as currently constructed, is insufficient and exclusionary, failing to protect the majority of Palestinians who live and die outside its boundaries.