By Yossi Loss (translated from Hebrew by Maya Naveh)

President Peres at the UN Climate Change Conference, Copenhagen. (Photo: GPO)

In Israel’s latest budget plan, the item dedicated to reducing greenhouse gas emissions has been cancelled, arousing frustration among the country’s environmental organizations. However, reducing greenhouse gas emissions is not the most urgent problem facing Israelis regarding climate change, and thus, the budget should be directed toward other environmental problems.

Many publications point to an atrocious inequality in global emissions. Western countries have emitted and continue to emit greenhouse gases at an excessive rate, while disadvantaged countries emit far less. However, those disadvantaged countries are the ones that will suffer the most from the resulting climate change, while the countries that can best prepare for climate change repercussions will remain strong.

Where do things stand in Israel?

In all the publications I have come across, Israel’s contribution to greenhouse gas emissions more or less matches the size of its population, relative to the world. Sometimes I wonder whether these publications take into account the emissions of the Palestinian population under Israeli military control, or whether they only consider citizens of Israel. But let’s put this question aside for a moment. Because of Israel’s size, even if it were to eliminate greenhouse gas emissions entirely, the effect on climate change and the amount of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere would amount to zero. That is why, according to the Kyoto Protocol, Israel isn’t required to reduce emissions at all. Still, President Shimon Peres committed to reducing emissions during the Copenhagen Summit, and was rewarded with generous compliments for doing so.

Think of a small child whose parents are agonizing over huge debts, losing sleep at the night, and not functioning during the day for fear of debt collectors and worries about the future. The sweet, beloved child comes to his parents and gives them a coin he found, which he received for helping an old man cross the street or for selling a toy to another kid. The parents are happy and proud of their little boy, but the debts still gnaw at their hearts and threaten their lives. The child is happy and proud of himself, but nothing has really changed regarding his family’s debts, which are about to wreak their lives and his future.

In his book “Here it Comes,” Dan Rabinowitz explains that as a rule, there are two strategies for facing climate threat: adaptation and reduction. Poor countries are forced to adapt because they have nothing to reduce, and either way, they’ll be the ones bearing the consequences of climate change. Rich countries, on the other hand, must reduce their emissions. Where does Israel stand on this matter? What should guide Israel’s policy regarding climate change? Its self-image as one of the industrialized, Western countries, or its actual ability to bring about change? What can Israel change?

Because Israel’s emissions are negligible, they cannot affect global emission levels. Thus, it would be best if it were to focus solely on adapting to the repercussions of climate change. Of course, one of the major problems will be the difficulty of food production, which will inevitably lead to a rise in food prices, and will impact the disadvantaged communities of Israel. An additional problem caused by climate change is a potential rise in morbidity, which will also mostly affect the disadvantaged. The same can be said regarding a host of problems stemming from climate change.

Therefore, if the Israeli government is concerned with climate change and its consequences for humankind, the most logical outcome would be for us to prepare as a country for the difficulties ahead, and focus less (or not at all) on reducing Israel’s inconsequential emissions. Furthermore, Israel’s civil society should undoubtedly join the effort to pressure Western countries into significantly reducing their emissions. Israeli citizens must demand that their government invest in strengthening the disadvantaged population by ensuring both food security and the ability to make a living. This must be done so that on the day that climate change forces additional communities into poverty and hunger, the country will already be equipped to better face the challenge.

Yossi Loss is the co-editor of Haokets, where this article was first published in Hebrew. Haokets is a non-profit, independent, progressive Israeli web magazine that hosts critical discussion where hundreds of writers publish professional and original pieces on socioeconomic, cultural and philosophical issues, human rights activism, feminism, and Mizrahi politics. Visit their English-language blog.

By Talal Alyan

Around 200 protesters march to the Muquata, the Palestinian Authority (PA) headquarters, to protest against the latests wave of political arrests made by the Palestinian Authority, Ramallah, October 2, 2012. (photo: Activestills)

“The image before the return of the PLO was the image of the freedom fighter/ Now here is that same freedom fighter (chained with the conditions of his enemies), exercising his direct authority on the ordinary citizen, on the old men, on the students.” – Mourid Barghouti 

Palestinian Authority (PA) security forces recently arrested Zaher Ash-Shashteery, a representative of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP). His alleged crime: he spoke out against the transgressions of the PA. Of course, it will come as no surprise to most Palestinians to learn about this arrest. We are all familiar with the constant human rights violations of both Hamas and the PA. We have all heard stories of protests being put down by Palestinian security forces, or of civilians being arbitrarily arrested and tortured.

It is a strange position that Palestinians find themselves in. Should we forfeit our grievances with these political powers and their cronies, and instead focus entirely on the ongoing occupation? Or should we reserve some of our effort to speak out against these ruling political factions? One main concern is that our complaints may be hijacked by sponsors of the occupation in order to divert attention from Israeli actions. This isn’t an unwarranted concern – the crisis in Syria, for instance, is often evoked to imply that we should not focus on the Israeli occupation, and that some injustices should be prioritized over others. For the same reasons that I reject this logic I also have to believe that we owe something to Palestinians languishing in the jails of Hamas and the PA. It is our responsibility to insist that their suffering not be secondary.

Arbitrary incarceration

The fear of being arrested suddenly and without charge by Israel is a frightening fact of life that most Palestinians, especially in the West Bank, have to live with. The psychological implications of going through your day knowing that you or your loved one might be snatched at any moment will for generations torment the Palestinian psyche. Unfortunately, anxiety over Israeli arrest is further agitated by a fear of abduction at the hands of the PA or Hamas. Family members of those arrested are often given no information about where their loved ones are being taken, or for how long they will be held. Similarly, the incarcerated are commonly denied access to a lawyer for extended periods of time. The Palestinian Authority arbitrarily arrested 755 persons in the West Bank in 2011. The number itself is likely an underestimate, as it only includes complaints lodged to the Independent Commission for Human Rights. The number of complaints is almost assuredly curbed by fears of retaliation. In the two years before 2011, there were around 3,045 complaints of arbitrary detention filed with ICHR against the PA.

The situation in Gaza is no less grim, with 271 complaints lodged against Hamas in 2011. The fact that these figures are significantly lower than those in the West Bank is likely due to a heightened fear of reprisal from Hamas. ICHR received 1,789 complaints about arbitrary arrests in Gaza during 2009 and 2010. Palestinian law prohibits arrests without warrants except in extraordinary circumstances. However, Human Rights Watch notes that warrants are often issued after the individual has been already been arrested and detained an extended time period.

Torture

The torture of detained Palestinians is a common occurrence in both the West Bank and Gaza. Palestinian law strictly prohibits the employment of torture, as Article 13 of the Palestinian Basic Law dictates that any confessions or statement made during torture are to be considered “null and void.” Despite the clear illegality of evidence acquired by torture, confessions are often permitted in court cases and influence verdicts. Palestinians are also supposed to be given a medical examination prior to incarceration in order to establish the prisoner’s wellbeing before interrogation. However, the practice is rarely employed.

112 complaints about torture were filed with the ICHR against the PA in 2011, and Hamas was not far behind with 102 complaints filed. There were five documented deaths of Palestinians held in Hamas custody in 2011. It is worth reiterating that the listed number of individuals tortured by the PA and Hamas is most likely an underestimate. The ICHR notes the insistence on anonymity by most persons who register complaints – an indication of the concern most have about retaliation. In addition, Hamas prevents human rights workers from visiting individuals while they are being held, thereby preventing an assessment of ongoing torture. The torture methods range from beatings to mock executions, and the employment of electrical cables and strappado is also common.

Resisting all oppressors

The transgressions of the PA and Hamas do not excuse Israeli policy. They may be hijacked and exploited to conceal the occupation, but that possibility should not intimidate us into silence. Instead, it should stand as a testament to our consistency and our thirst for liberation – that we resist all forms of injustice.

It is often a misconception, believed by these authoritarian groups, that they can act with impunity under the guise of liberators. But if ever there was a commonality amongst Palestinians, a shared characteristic threading us together, it is our resentment of oppression. Hamas and the Palestinian Authority would do well to remind themselves of the endurance of Palestinian memory, and of our unwillingness to forgive subjugation regardless of the perpetrator.

Talal Alyan is a Palestinian freelance writer currently living in Syracuse, New York. He wishes to thank Nader Atassi for his advice and guidance.

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By Avraham H. Muthada / Café Gibraltar

Khaju Bridge in Isfahan, Iran (Photo: Hamed Saber/CC)

I often find myself yearning for Iran. Despite the fact that my feet have never stepped there, my mouth has never tasted its water, my lips have not sipped from its goblet. There, in the diaspora, where the dream of the promised land still burned and echoed. The longing that was part of us even before man met women, a longing for what does not exist – for a borderless purity amongst humans. The mullah (rabbi) stands at the gate of the city during every holiday with complete devotion, his face tilted toward the West – toward the sea – mourning a hill of stones and broken memories, quietly praising and calling for Zion. In his mind’s eye he sees the tribes of Israel and the Land of Judea and the Mediterranean – there he shall not pass.

My father shrinks into the blue, fur arm chair and sinks into a song of homesickness for a homeland left behind. “My Iran, my life and soul.” He glances upward, imagining the pathways of his childhood, weaving together notes and letters to form a pearl necklace of suffering. He is motionless. Like a national monument, he collects remnants of moments and gives them vitality. Soon his eyes will open and a sigh will leave his mouth.

“I am like a victim of your land / and helpless without you / every beat of my heart is the whispering of Iran,” the singer eulogizes the homeland, and my father continues, “Without you my home is full of sorrow / every moment is grief, the distance drives me mad / God knows that this world is a prison without you / life is dark and cold.” Indeed, Iran is the homeland of many expatriates, not all of them Muslims. Different religions, tribes and cultures are tied together to the forgotten homeland which has been painted black and white.

No other homeland

The task of wandering to a distant homeland was commanded of us, even before we became a nation, in one sentence that changed our fate: “Go from your homeland and the homeland of your father to a country that I shall reveal to you.” And here, thousands of years later, I wonder to myself, as Jews who returned to our homeland, aren’t we supposed to feel an even stronger connection to nature, to humans, to the living and the air around us? Our hearts have been filled with songs of the homeland and love for the Land of Israel, built by the fearless pioneers who sought to redeem the land of the swamps, ever since we were little. Are not the history and literature books full of songs of praise such as “Ein Li Eretz Aheret” (“I Have No Other Country”) and the famous “El Artzi” (“To My Land”), in which the Hebrew poet Rachel confesses that she did not do enough for her country.

Yoram Taharlev nicknamed it a “homeland with no shirt, a barefoot homeland.” Uzi Chitman called for “Eretz Ha’Tzabar,” (Land of the Tzabar) and even Aviv Geffen called it “Uri Ur.” But no, the promised land disappointed. Friends of mine who up until recently claimed “I love the country, not the state,” can now be found waiting in endless lines for a foreign passport, or at the very least a long-term visa. And like a beggar at the gates, divested of my memories and of the images of my forefather’s land, I am forced to bear a burden that is not my own. Creating a love for the homeland out of nothing, instead of creating new meaning for living in my country, Israel, through the eyes of my forefathers.

A letter of longing from Zion to Iran

Pain is the father of creation. It is woven into our being, into books, songs and prayers. Often I find myself incessantly switching stations on the radio, until I find an Arabic station and sink into the trills of the muezzin. Quarter tones, the deeply layered singing, carved out of a deep place of pain, remind me of the songs of my home.

“My heart wants to return to Isfahan…
I am still here, but my heart is there / all my prayers and desires are there.”

As a boy I loved the elegy for Isfahan, the birthplace of my parents, but I never wondered why. It is possible that I considered the city as holy as Jerusalem, where belief and holiness move us to a memory we have never experienced. I sit and stare into my father’s eyes. I am filled with jealousy as those eyes yearn for a homeland that was taken away, for the sounds that arise from the oblivion and fill the room. The glory of a faraway kingdom, stories of bravery about giants and ghosts who walk among humans. Stories about simple people and their simple lives. That same yearning for a homeland that prevails in my family excites me to the point that it seems as if it is inherited. Or perhaps they borrowed this trait from their Shi’ite neighbors, another persecuted minority who will one day reach salvation. Persian is a holy language to me – it empowers my mind and stimulates my creativity. Songs for Iran, which are sung by Iranian expats, those same songs I grew up on, penetrate my body and strum into my soul, despite not understanding most of the words.

MK Hanin Zoabi, with whom I do not see eye to eye, once claimed that Jews in Israel do not understand the love for a homeland. “Loving the homeland means loving and respecting its history and that of its indigenous people. One who loves his homeland does not cut down trees nor build ugly fences and does not ruin the natural view. This is not love, this is a project that says ‘we are the masters and we want to erase the other group that exists here’.” This is true. A homeland is not a piece of cultivated land, nor the object of a war for pride. Homeland is not nationalism. Love has no place where land is a tool for control. Homeland is an idea through which we mold our hopes and our most secret fears. It is an unconditional love.

My love for Zion and Jerusalem has nothing to do with blue and white and is not based in the history books of my childhood. Its origins lay in adopting the love for a homeland from my father. From Iran to Zion. From Isfahan to Jerusalem. There is an uncertainty about a father instilling forgotten love and continuity to his son. Like the poet Khalil Gibran wrote:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

This is the legacy I inherited from my father.

It is ironic that the land Abraham left for the Promised Land is the same land he misses while being in the Promised Land. Zion is my homeland, and I will love it forever. But every time that I direct my desire toward Jerusalem, the holiest of holies, I will slightly divert my eyes to Iran and tilt my head to hear the echoes of the mullah praying for the Land of Israel, that which he will never see.

Avraham H. Muthada is a writer and student of communications and journalism. This post first appeared in Hebrew on Café Gibraltar. 

By Yesh Din, written by Yossi Gurvitz

About two weeks ago, A. was on his way from Hebron to Jerusalem. A is a resident of Abu Dis, and married to a resident of East Jerusalem; as such, he enjoys Israeli residency. But as he was about to find out, that didn’t help him all that much.

On his way home, A. passed through a checkpoint charmingly named “the humanitarian checkpoint,” where he ran into a surprise roadblock, manned by a mixed force of soldiers and border policemen. The soldiers asked A. to turn off his engine, leave the car, and hand them his papers. A. noted they spoke “poor Arabic.”

The soldiers first searched A. before searching his vehicle – they found nothing suspicious. But then the all-too-common occurrence turned surreal. A. says that two border policemen told him that he must speak Hebrew. A., who does not, denied it. The two began laughing, and then someone (A. was with his back to him, so he can’t say if it was a soldier or a policeman) held him from behind, handcuffed him, blindfolded him, put him in the vehicle and left him there.

The time of the year is May, and the days are hot. A., left blindfolded and handcuffed in the car, asked the person to speak with him in Arabic, saying he was in pain. There was no response, but A. remembers hearing them laughing. That’s the last thing he remembers from the incident.

A. woke up in a hospital in Hebron, after an IDF ambulance transfered him to a Red Crescent ambulance. A. reached the hospital in a state of total disorientation, likely as a result of dehydration and sunstroke. He was given a fluid infusion in the IDF ambulance.

A. is suspected of nothing. He was not detained. His vehicle was not confiscated but rather left near the checkpoint. A family member drove to the checkpoint and found the vehicle there. There, the family member asked the soldiers about the whereabouts of the vehicle’s owner. “The owner stopped the vehicle because he felt unwell,” they responded. A man handcuffs himself, blindfolds himself (what is that routine good for, except intimidating the detainee?) and climbs into a hot vehicle. Sounds reasonable.

A needless handcuffing is a kind of torture. A needless detainment is abuse of power. Think about how much noise would be made if an Israeli citizen were detained by soldiers or police officers, handcuffed without any reason or explanation, and placed in a hot vehicle where he loses consciousness. This happens to people who are Israeli residents, by armed Israeli men, without so much of a squeak. We’ve gotten used to that.

Written by Yossi Gurvitz in his capacity as a blogger for Yesh Din, Volunteers for Human Rights.

By Roi Bachmutsky

PM Netanyahu speaks at Taglit-Birthright Mega Event, 6.1.11. More than 250,000 young Jews have come to Israel on Birthright since the program’s inception. (photo: Amos BenGershom, GPO)

Demonstrations in the East Jerusalem neighborhood of Sheikh Jarrah have come alive again as of this past Friday, aiming to show solidarity with the Shamasneh family who have appealed the impending eviction from their home. Unbeknownst to many, the struggle in Sheikh Jarrah reaches far beyond the borders of Jerusalem. In fact, it affects ethnic tensions half a world away by influencing how American Jewish youth internalize the separation between “us” and “them.”

“I was just having a really hard time,” one Jewish student at UC Berkeley told me, speaking of her experience at a Sheikh Jarrah protest she was invited to attend while traveling through Israel. “It was the first time I’d ever talked to a real Palestinian,” she explained, “… [he] doesn’t want to kill me, he tells me he likes some Israelis, it was just crazy.” She would later explain to me that upon reflection, she was “raised, not explicitly but at least very implicitly, with racism towards Arabs, and Palestinians in particular.” I asked whether she meant that she had never explicitly said the words: “I hate Arabs.” “Frankly,” she admitted to my surprise, “I probably did say that.” The Palestinian man she encountered at Sheikh Jarrah was evidently not at all whom she was expecting, but the question remains – how did she imagine her first encounter with a Palestinian and where did this conception come from?

I found my answer in the summer of 2011, when I attended a Taglit-Birthright Israel trip with 39 other Jewish young adults – the vast majority of whom were receiving their first glimpse of the Middle East. Before we even boarded the plane, our Birthright staff were quick to explain that “Israel is a safe place but there are people that want to hurt Jews there so we have to be very careful.” The notion that we were endangered tacitly followed us throughout the trip, from the daily reminder of our security guard’s loaded rifle to the staff’s insistence that participants refrain from venturing into Jerusalem’s Muslim Quarter. “It is very dangerous,” we were told.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu emphasized similar perils to thousands of Jewish youth at the Taglit-Birthright mega event in January of this year. “It’s our job to wake up the world,” he proclaimed, “… the great danger to the world is not from Jews building in our ancestral capital in Jerusalem. It’s from nuclear weapons in Iran… It’s chemical weapons in Syria falling into the wrong hands.”  The message is straightforward – the enemy of our enemy is our friend. There are powerful antagonists seeking to do us harm – Bibi wants us to remember – and therefore Jews the world over must ignore divisive politics, such as the Judaization of East Jerusalem in Sheikh Jarrah, and instead unite against our common enemy.

The identity of that common enemy became abundantly clear to my Birthright cohort after we learned about the surprise war launched during the Yom Kippur holiday in 1973.  Overlooking the Syrian-Israeli border, our tour guide casually explained that what we have to understand is that “the Arab mentality has great propensity for revenge and holding grudges over long periods of time.” The desire to murder Jews was not a figment of the past, we were taught, but instead a horrific fact of our present time. “Fuck you, fucking Arabs!” one participant yelled across the border before we left.

As the trip went on, a publicly accepted animosity toward the local Palestinian population began germinating as participants internalized the division between “us” and “them.” On the way back from the Syrian border, for example, one staff member posed the following question to the group: “Where I live, if we had an Israeli flag on our car window it would get broken in by the end of the day. Who here would break the window of a car with a Palestinian flag on it?” He expected no response, yet was caught off-guard when two male participants raised their hands. He pressed them, “Really now, guys?” “Yep!” the two replied in unison. If there was any discomfort among the group at the time, it was kept silent. Nobody said a word.

A parallel racism was brewing on another trip to Israel, this time led by a Los Angeles Jewish day school. “It was the last day [of the trip],” one participant recounted, “we eat lunch at this air force base and a pilot brings us over some missiles that they’re going to use in training.” “So these missiles are going to be dropped on Lebanese Hezbollah villages,” he recalls the pilot saying, “here are some sharpies – write your messages.” And as if the destructive weaponry were a Bar-Mitzvah sign-in board, young Jews began etching their wishes for the recipients: “Arabs die,” “Nasrallah burn at the stake,” “Arabs should burn in hell.” When the participant raised his concern to the day school teachers leading the trip, he was told to “lighten up.” “I know that [the pilot] was kidding,” he explained to me in retrospect, “that these aren’t going to hit a Lebanese village… but the idea that they think it is fun for us to be doing this… I almost wanted to cry.”

Do these examples illustrate that all organized trips to Israel breed antagonism against Arabs? Not necessarily. Do they mean that we must overlook cases of Arab anti-Semitism and violence against Israelis? Not necessarily. What they do mean, however, is that in their haste to unify Jewish youth in support of Israel, American-Jewish institutions have (perhaps unwittingly) bred an often unrecognized racism among the next generation of community leaders. The demonstrations in Sheikh Jarrah spurred at least one student to come to terms with her own racism. We must all follow her lead. If we do not prioritize identifying and eradicating racism before it spirals beyond our control, the integrity of American Jewry in the coming years will quickly begin to crumble.

Roi Bachmutsky is a recent graduate of the University of California, Berkeley. You can follow him on his blog and on Twitter (@roibachmutsky).

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By Ofri Ilani, translated from Hebrew by Ofer Neiman

Perhaps we should start with the question of Israel’s international standing. In recent years it is often termed as “growing global isolation.” This isolation may diminish at times, but there is a wall-to-wall consensus about Israel becoming less popular with every war and military operation. You say that in fact the opposite is true. In your film, one can see officers from armies the world over coming to Israel to purchase arms – from Europe, India, Latin America, and of course – the U.S. So is this talk of criticism and isolation a show in which everyone partakes? Or is this criticism another force that we need to take into account?

I think that a view of Israel as an unrestrained savage that resides in a brutal neighborhood and therefore has to exercise excessive/immense albeit necessary force, has taken hold. It follows that this view is usually condescending-forgiving. More importantly, I believe that Israel’s security marketing succeeds where Israeli Hasbara [advocacy] is less fruitful. Many people fail to make the connection between Israel’s hi-tech weapons and the unrestrained military force about which one can read in reports by human rights NGOs. People think of these as two disparate phenomena merely existing in spatial and temporal proximity. If you read the Goldstone Report about the bombing of the ceremony at the police academy in Gaza on the first day of Cast Lead, and then read a marketing brochure of Rafael about the operational experiment involving “Spike 4″ (the missile used by Israel in that incident), some effort is required in order for you to realize that these are different accounts of one historical event. The same goes for the drones used for assassinations in Gaza. On the other hand, It is possible that the Europeans understand all this and simply don’t care.

In the previous decade, following operation Cast Lead, there was a feeling that this cannot go on, that in this constellation, Israel would have to go to a third, fourth, fifth and sixth Gaza war, and perhaps on other fronts as well – but also that it cannot really be involved in so many wars.

After the disengagement (from Gaza) a process noticed only by a few outside the army occurred. War has stopped being an extraordinary, unexpected and dramatic event in the life of the nation, and has become a periodic activity which is a part of that national life. Thus, at any given time, Israel is either in the midst of a Gaza war or awaiting the next one. Between the 2005 disengagement and “Cast Lead,” we had “Summer Rains”, “Hot Winter” and several other Israeli military operations in Gaza. Yoav Galant, the commander of the southern front between the disengagement and Cast Lead, who can be seen in the film, played a major role in the formulation of this doctrine. He employed the metaphor of a lawn mower to describe it: war as routine, periodic maintenance beyond the borders.

One of the contributing factors has been the massive use of shielded or automatic unmanned vehicles, which allows for wars in which there is no proportion between the risk taken by one side and the risk incurred by the other. This has reshuffled all the moral, political and legal categories which had been applied to warfare. In the past, all these campaigns were based on the assumption that this is a conflict in which two parties accept the possibility of killing or dying, but here, in almost all cases, one party kills and the other dies. The military industries, which develop products for conflicts of the Gazan type, and coax the Israeli army to purchase them, are playing a pivotal role here. The result is disturbing, because it seems to me that the war in Gaza has become inherent to the Israeli political system, possibly a part of our system of government. This was particularly noticeable during operation Pillar of Defense which took place during the election campaign, but support for it unified all the contenders for power.

Do you think that the testing of weapons systems played a part in, say, Ehud Barak’s calculations during the recent wars in Gaza?

It’s hard to rule this out. This connection is much more immediate than the one made by General Dan Halutz between the second Lebanon War and his personal portfolio. There are very close ties between the military industries, on one hand, and the army and the political system on the other. The most profitable military company is Elbit, owned by Mickey Federman, one of Ehud Barak’s confidants and a key player in his electoral campaigns. This company specializes in advanced means of asymmetric warfare, exactly the type of wars conducted by Barak in Gaza in recent years. There are other such personal ties. Furthermore, this is a national economic interest. The Defense Ministry plays a double role as the authority overseeing the military system and a sales promoter for the Israeli military industry abroad. I think it’s inhumane to demand that Barak separate the two issues. I am not saying that they embark on military campaigns in Gaza in order to test systems and make money, but it does play a part.

And in the lower echelons, Israeli military industries invest a great deal of effort in order to make IDF officers purchase their products, and use them to boost their export potential. They do so also by hiring retired senior officers en-masse, as sales promoters and project managers vis-a-vis their former colleagues in the IDF. A prominent case is Elbit and General (Ret.) Yiftach Ron-Tal.

This approach bears fruit. A key player in the military industries told me that the operational testing in Gaza of Elbit’s BMS (Battle Management System – a special internet-like system for ground forces), a huge project worth $1 billion, has allowed Elbit to raise its price in a deal signed a year later with Australia. The same goes for Rafael. The company stated openly that it would capitalize on the escalation that preceded operation Pillar of Defense – with the first operational use of Iron Dome – to raise around half a billion shekels (rougly $135 million) through the issuance of bonds. A salesman for the IAI (Israel Aerospace Industries) told me that assassinations and operations in Gaza bring about an increase of tens of percentage points in company sales.

Still, it’s somehow difficult to feel convinced. There is a feeling that the increased threats, the need to build walls, fire more defensive missiles and launch more units on all fronts, will lead to a “we’ve run out of money” outcome, or perhaps this is reversed at a certain point?

The question is who’s money is running out. Unlike in the past, a substantial part of the military industries nowadays are private. On the other hand, the state plays a role in the success of these companies, through its investment in the Israeli army, national research and development projects. From this perspective, as shown by Shlomo Swirski, the military industries are responsible for the transfer of public funds to an upper-middle class which makes its living from these industries, directly or indirectly. Some of this money ends up back in state coffers through taxes and revenues for government arms makers, thereby contributing to a conflict state economy, and some of the money remains in private hands.

Is there anything new here? There have always been Israeli arms dealers, and in general, states have always profited from wars.

When I started making this film, I met witharms dealer Yair Klein at his house, above the flea market in Jaffa. We had a lengthy talk about the film’s thesis and my proposed synopsis. Prima facie, Klein would have made a classical protagonist for such a film. A former officer with the elite Haruv unit who sold Colombian militias the tactics employed by the IDF in the Jordan Valley against Palestinian militants crossing the Jordanian border, at a time when Rehavam Ze’evi was the home front commander and did as he pleased. But during my conversation with him, I realized he actually had no idea what I was talking about. His generation doesn’t grasp the current reality. The magnitudes are completely different nowadays. Profits from Israeli arms are more than tenfold higher, but more importantly – the Israeli products are different.

Klein sold lethal weapons and training. Today Israel offers an entire political model for asymmetric warfare, a conflict between a state and irregular combatants. This model has both lethal and “soft” elements. Israel exports Rafael missiles used for assassinations in Gaza, IAI drones, General Aviv Kochavi’s combat methods and separation walls by Magal, but also legal experts, experts on population administration in the vein of Israel’s civil administration over the West Bank, and even war ethics. Perhaps this is the reason why the Left has a stronger foothold these days in such business. Yossi Beilin sells “security products,” Shlomo Ben Ami held a senior position at Global CST which has provided the Colombian government with arms and training services, and Ehud Barak entered this line of business at its peak, following 9/11.

You’re actually saying that since 9/11, Israel has once again become the educator of the human species in the main issue on the international agenda – asymmetric warfare. Thus, the Jews are once again at the forefront of thought – as was the case with Moses, Jesus, Spinoza, Freud, Einstein, Kafka…

I don’t know if it’s appropriate to think of Israeli military educators as Jews. The military genealogy of the officers described in the film begins with Yigal Alon, goes through Meir Har-Zion and Ariel Sharon and ends up with Ehud Barak and Aviv Kochavi. For these people, Judaism does not necessarily play a critical role in their identity.

But obviously, on these issues, the countries of the world have a special approach towards Israel and the Israelis, which may be nurtured to some extent by the historical context which you have raised. It has to do with the fact that Israel’s asymmetric conflict with the Palestinians, and possibly in Lebanon too, preceded conflicts which erupted only after 9/11. Israeli products and methods are used in America’s wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the conflict with the FARC in Colombia, wars against drug lords in Mexico, ethnic conflicts in Kashmir, as well as economic conflicts, embodied by gated communities for the affluent in South Africa, Latin America and the US. This has a tremendous effect on Israel. Its military exports have tripled from $2 billion annually at the beginning of the 2000s to $7 billion annually last year (2012), and Israel has become the world’s fourth-sixth military exporter throughout this past decade.

You mention the mathematical formula developed by Prof. Yitzhak Ben-Israel for the optimal number of casualties in a targeted assassination. Can you explain this formula?

Ben-Israel used a mathematical equation to explain the Israeli doctrine of targeted assassinations. This equation is derived from the entropy equations of physics, which describe the behavior of gas molecules and the measure of their order. As you raise the temperature, the molecules behave in a more chaotic manner. Ben-Israel adapted the equation to the question of how many Palestinian resistance members one has to eliminate or arrest (we cannot go into the intricate mathematical details here). In the application to the Gazan case, the context is primarily Israel’s assassination policy.

Listening to this, it makes sense. After all, it is a way to kill as few people as possible and still bring about the collapse of the enemy’s combatant force…Can one say that the IDF has really become more efficient at avoiding the killing of civilians?

Yes, from a certain aspect. There is no doubt that one component of the theory of asymmetric warfare is a certain degree of restraint, restraining the element of excessive violence during war and the Israeli interest is not to just kill civilians. This begs the question why precision munitions still kill hundreds and thousands. A few explanations can be offered, and one of them regards the definition of “involved” (pesons, i.e. combatants vs non-combatants). The Israeli definition of this term has a wide scope and includes the 89 graduates of the (Hamas) traffic police course killed on the first day of Cast Lead, as well as many killed in what are called “signature strikes” – drone attacks carried out on the basis of the target’s “suspected” activity. Such activity may be anything resembling the launching of rockets, but also the use of a mobile phone to photograph, which may result in the classification of its owner as an enemy scout. There is an ongoing debate in the U.S. on the possibility of automatic targeting in such attacks. A technology which bases attacks on behavioral patterns already exists, but it hasn’t been decided whether it is morally acceptable.

One of the protagonists in the film is Shimon Naveh, who implemented critical theories by Deleuze and Guattari for the incursion into the Nablus Casbah during Operation Defensive Shield in 2002. Do you think his use of their philosophy was perverse?

Many social science faculty members were shocked to read about Naveh, if only for not having expected this state and military infringement on what they experience as their autonomous sphere. All in all, I agree with Naveh’s statement that Deleuze does not belong only to those who affiliate themselves with him. I believe it’s better not to have a sterile space for this discussion. It’s better for it to be “contaminated” by external factors, which will require posing questions, perhaps questions about the philosophy of Deleuze. Could it be that its adoption by Naveh says something about this theory itself?

Because I find it hard to imagine any military use of Foucault or Walter Benjamin. Furthermore, the presumed academic sterility is just an illusion. On the other side of the wall of the Tel Aviv University lecture hall in which students who study Deleuze and hear of Naveh sit, seminars at the university’s security studies program are held, and over there – the students study Naveh and hear of Deleuze. And walls between rooms – as shown by Naveh in Nablus – are quite unstable.

The film can be affiliated with a genre of other recently-made Israeli films which opted to turn the camera towards those wielding power, rather than the victims: The Law in These Parts and The Gatekeepers. Do you endorse this affiliation?

Viewers and filmmakers have become more sensitive to films whose Israeli cinematographer takes money from the Culture Ministry to make films in the name of Palestinian victims. Tolerance for such films has run out, and rightly so. Another reason is what was referred to as “fascism” two years ago – [Culture and Sport] Minister Limor Livnat’s influence on cultural institutions.

On the other hand, Jews still want to make political films, and in order to minimize the pretense, they ask questions about those in power, those who resemble them – instead of questions about the victims. This allows for a more rational understanding of a political situation. Instead of invoking the emotional outrage effect in the face of a certain reality, they ask questions about this reality: what is its internal structure and who profits from it? This is something I support because political action has to be both emotional and rational. It’s important to elicit rage, but it’s also important to apply tools which can steer this rage in the right direction.

Does the film lead to a clear moral conclusion? Can a viewer come out, accept your economic analysis, yet feel contented about Israel having such a profitable resource, which provides employment and strengthens the economy?

I think that question is relevant to any material project. After all, a capitalist can read Marx’s Das Kapital and try to strip it of the moral and political conclusions, regarding it as an exhaustive account of social relations and then derive a bourgeoisie ethic from it – for example, how to boost the surplus value and produce more capital from labor. I can imagine people actually doing that. The same goes for this film – I think that many of my assertions – about the conflict becoming an economic resource – would be endorsed by Ehud Barak too, and many arms dealers or CEOs in the security industries, although perhaps slightly modified.

Nevertheless, I try to muster some optimism regarding the film’s political effect, and presume that most viewers would sense that there is something immoral about deriving money from blood, or profiting from an ongoing military occupation. One of the proofs which bear out this optimism is the fact that the arms industry is not the focus of the discourse in Israel. There is no correspondence between the relevance of this issue to the economy and to life and its minimal presence in the public discourse. In comparison to other countries, very few exposés and articles about arms are published in Israel and the topic is not discussed widely, even though everyone has an uncle in Elbit or IAI. This shows that people do sense that this content is problematic, that there is something which should not be discussed extensively.

Can one derive a political strategy from the film – for the sake of ending the occupation, attaining equality and peace?

I think one conclusion has to do with where critical political energy is channeled in Israel. People tend to focus on a political and military elite, while overlooking an economic elite, which profits from the application of military strength and makes it possible. The border lines between the Israeli arms industry and the Israeli hi-tech industry are very slight, and practically non-existent.

A second conclusion follows from global aspects of the local conflict. States in which an overwhelming majority of citizens denounce the Israeli army’s actions in Gaza, actually make these actions possible by purchasing arms tested there. This is essential to the Israeli security industry, the only industry of its type which exports more than it sells in the local market. Therefore, such purchasing is also necessary for the IDF, which makes sure these industries develop new arms for it to use in the next wars in Gaza. Perhaps if the citizens of these states knew about this they would protest and raise hell, but this too brings about some difficulty. I don’t know if we want Swedes telling their government, “don’t buy Israeli missiles,” instead of, “don’t buy missiles.”

First published in Hebrew on the Eretz Haemori blog.

By Matan Kaminer

MK Nitzan Horowitz. Horowitz recently announced his candidacy for mayor of Tel Aviv. (Jstreet CC BY NC SA 2.0)

Although municipal political party Ir LeKulanu is not considered “left” in Israeli terms, it embodies one of the greatest successes of the non-Zionist left in Israeli history. In national elections, the non-Zionist or “radical” left keeps slamming into the brick wall of privileges enjoyed by Israel’s Jewish citizens, including not only Mizrahi, Ethiopian and Russian citizens (whose Jewishness is the only thing separating them from the socio-economic abyss), but also the “liberal” Ashkenazi middle class.

However, the municipal arena is a bit different. Since most decisions pertaining to the state’s Jewish and colonial character are not made at the municipal level, it is possible to envision an alliance between victims of urban capitalism in the face of disagreement over so-called “national-political” issues. Under the aegis of Ir LeKulanu (“City for All”), radical activists whose opposition to Zionism is well known have been able to join forces not only with young middle-class people from the city center but also with an active, vocal group of south Tel Aviv residents. (At the same time, the movement has been only partially successful in connecting to the Palestinian residents of Jaffa, whose “Yafa” party ran separately but supported Ir LeKulanu mayoral candidate Dov Khenin.)

Five years have since passed over Tel Aviv-Jaffa, bringing with them two wars on Gaza, one Arab Spring and one wave of social protest which momentarily shook Israeli society. The party’s many members who expected it to develop into a full-fledged popular movement were disappointed. But Ir LeKulanu’s very survival under the bitter attacks it faced from the municipal opposition is not to be taken for granted – and most of the credit for this perseverance goes to the movement’s indefatigable council members.

About two weeks ago, Khenin announced that he would not be running for mayor again, opening a debate on the desirability of running a candidate from the party, especially in the wake of Meretz MK Nitzan Horowitz announcing his candidacy. Some say that all oppositional forces must be united for the overarching goal of defeating incumbent mayor Ron Huldai. But insufferable as he may be, Huldai is only the representative of an urban alliance which is bigger than him. The two wings of this alliance are the affluent, mostly Ashkenazi residents of the northern neighborhoods who enjoy the fruits of Huldai’s reign, and the capitalists reaping profits from the transformation of the city center from a living residential area into a glitzy playground of real estate speculation.

Horowitz is far from challenging this alliance. In a mass e-mail he sent out to declare his candidacy, Jaffa is never mentioned, and the city’s south is barely paid lip service. Praise for former mayors, on the other hand, is abundant, with especially warm words for the incumbent, under whom Horowitz’s party has served loyally for four of the current administration’s five years. Whether or not it is efficacious for him, this tactic sends a clear signal to the oppressed groups in the city – Palestinians, refugees and migrants and Mizrahi residents of the south – that Horowitz is signalling his utter indifference to them.

This is the time for Ir LeKulanu to hoist another flag, differentiating itself from both Huldai and his little brother Horowitz. It is going to be a turbulent summer, with great turmoil over the austerity measures about to be unleashed by the government. Now is the time to catalyze urban energies around an alternative pole. In a sense, Khenin’s decision is advantageous, as it enables Ir LeKulanu to make a clear statement by choosing a Mizrahi from the city’s south to be its candidate for mayor. Such a choice would not be forced or artificial, since the movement has included a lively contingent of south Tel Aviv activists from its inception. Among these are two of the movement’s most outstanding city council members, Yael Ben-Yefet and Aharon Maduel, as well as many others. Yet candidacy is not just a matter of personal excellence, but of what the candidate symbolizes. Running a candidate will be a clear sign to the residents of the south that they are a central priority for the movement, and that their presence within it is desired.

The Mizrahi Jewish community is Israel’s largest ethnic group. Its historic links to the culture of the Middle East and its class position make it a critical component in any revolutionary coalition imaginable in Israel. When even far more privileged groups are unwilling to reject Zionist identifications at the national level, it is neither fair nor realistic to expect Mizrahis to be the first to do so. But for this very reason, at this critical junction, the radical leftists who form an important component of Ir LeKulanu should not pass up the opportunity to throw their weight behind a Mizrahi urban leadership in coalition with Palestinians, Ashkenazis, refugees and migrants. The way to do so is clear: to fight with determination in support of a south Tel Aviv candidate for mayor.

Matan Kaminer is active in Ir LeKulanu. This article was first published in Hebrew on Haokets. Haokets is a non-profit, independent, progressive Israeli web magazine that hosts critical discussion where hundreds of writers publish professional and original pieces on socioeconomic, cultural and philosophical issues, human rights activism, feminism, and Mizrahi politics. Visit their English-language blog.

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By Noam Wiener

Mavi Marmara. (Free Gaza movement/CC BY-SA 2.0)

On May 14, the Union of Comoros, represented by Turkish attorneys, sent the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court (ICC) a referral requesting it commence an investigation into Israeli conduct, due to alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity.

The complaint does not refer to Israel’s illegal settlement policy, nor does it refer to the use of phosphorous shells during Operation Pillar of Defense. The referral does not pertain to the rather liberal use of artillery by the Israeli military during Operation Cast Lead either. No, Comoros is alleging that war crimes and crimes against humanity of a gravity that ought to engage the ICC took place when Israeli commandos boarded the MV Mavi Marmara during the flotilla incident in May of 2010.

Comoros, a member of the ICC, can refer the case to the prosecutor because the Mavi Marmara was sailing under a Comorian flag. Thus, any alleged crimes committed on board the Marmara took place on Comorian sovereign territory, granting the ICC jurisdiction in the case.

I am a firm believer in the moral imperative to bring international criminals to justice, and thus am also a supporter of the ICC. Yet I think this referral is an abuse of the institution of international criminal law. The abuse is not the result of jurisdictional overreach – the grant of ICC jurisdiction over individuals who are citizens of non-member states is perfectly legitimate if these individuals commit crimes in the territory of a member state. Further, the reason I say it is an abuse of the ICC is not because the Israeli military did everything it ought to have done to minimize casualties – it did not, the Israeli operation was reckless and dangerous. It is simply that even if all the allegations are true, this is not a case of the magnitude or gravity that ought to take up the time of the prosecutor.

That the ICC has jurisdiction over alleged crimes does not mean the prosecutor is obliged to commence proceedings. I do not intend to provide a complete legal analysis here of the admissibility requirements of the ICC (see legal blogs here, here, and here for some legal analysis or read the Rome Statute here).

Instead I merely ask that we think of some of the cases that the ICC and other ad hoc international criminal tribunals have dealt with so far: World War II in Europe and in Asia (millions killed), the killing fields in Cambodia (two million victims), the wars in the former Yugoslavia (tens of thousands killed and millions displaced), the genocide in Rwanda (hundreds of thousands killed), the civil war in Sierra Leone ( tens of thousands killed and millions displaced), or the fighting in the Congo (tens of thousands killed in each, thousands of child soldiers recruited).

And then look at the nine dead on the Mavi Marmara.

My intention is not to be disrespectful to the people who lost their lives trying to break into Gaza, or to argue that the Israeli military was in the right. Every life lost is a tragedy. But in a world of limited resources one must choose how to allocate prosecutorial time and money so as to go after the gravest crimes. The violent takeover of the Mavi Marmara simply does not stack up to violent mass executions of passive civilians. Referring the situation to the prosecutor, with the knowledge that it does not measure up to the standard, has costs.

First, one of the main arguments made by detractors of the ICC has been that it will be used as forum to bring petty political based complaints to harass states instead of acting as a neutral arbiter. The scale and severity of this action, when compared to genocide and campaigns of mass rape and extermination, plays right into the hands of the ICC’s opponents. Referring a relatively minor incident in the context of a highly politically charged conflict would confirm suspicions that the ICC is no more than a political wolf camouflaged in the neutral trappings of criminal justice.

Second, Israeli conduct in the occupied territories and Gaza is sometimes manifestly criminal (settlements) and at other times most likely criminal (instances of indiscriminant use of force – I say most likely because the conduct is subject to claims of proportionality). The results of such conduct are disastrous, with the occupation costing thousands of lives and causing grave injustices over the years. But all this is simply irrelevant to the case of the Mavi Marmara. Trials, unless the judges lose control of the courtroom, focus on specific questions relevant to specific charges rather than on broad political contexts. The Marmara case, should it reach trial, will focus on questions such as the degree of force the Israeli military could use to enforce its blockade, in light of the resistance of the people on board the ship, and other similarly technical questions that have nothing to do with the plight of Palestinians. Thus, this referral risks assisting Hasbara experts in “spinning” the discussion away from more serious violations stemming from Israel’s conduct.

The ICC is still very much a nascent institution. Although it should not shy away from taking on serious cases due to political pressure, adhering to the gravest manifestations of international crimes is crucial to the court’s legitimacy. It would be best for supporters who believe that international law has an important role to play in defining basic norms of behavior and punishing perpetrators who violate them to refrain from setting unnecessary pitfalls for the ICC and sacrificing its legitimacy in order to promote narrow political ends.

By Lior Sternfeld

Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, Shah of Iran, and his wife, Queen Farah, prepare to depart after a visit to the United States. (photo: WIkicommons)

The relationship between Israel and Iran dates back to the early years of the Jewish state, and constituted the basis of both countries’ geopolitical policies. This political relationship was not, however, merely a matter of the ruling elites. Insofar as Pahlavi’s Iran is concerned, even oppositional circles in the 1960s and 1970s had a complex and sometimes favorable approach to the State of Israel. Moreover, many of these viewed Israel and Iran as essentially exceptional in nature in the contemporary Middle East, a perception that would change definitively for the worse after the 1967 war.

Shortly after the establishment of Israel in 1948, a new love story began in the Middle East. In 1950, Iran granted Israel de facto recognition and opened an embassy in Jerusalem. At that time Iran was (and still is) a homeland to the largest Jewish community in the Middle East, and a safe haven for many Iraqi Jews who had fled persecution in Iraq throughout the 1940s.

Unlike the majority of Jewish communities in Arab countries, many Iranian Jews decided to stay in Iran after the establishment of Israel. While most other Jewish communities in the Muslim world vanished between 1948-1956 and migrated en masse to Israel, the vast majority of Iranian Jews stayed in their homeland and had a complex relationship with the Zionist movement and Israel. This is not to say Iranian Jews were anti-Zionist. However, due to their decision to stay in Iran, Iranian Jewish communities were generally not identified with Zionism. This was, of course, a sharp contrast to most Arab-Jewish communities from Syria, Iraq, Lebanon, Morocco, and Libya. Many Arab-Jews emigrated to the newly founded State of Israel before 1956, due of increasing tensions (and at times outright persecution) with the local populations on the background of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

In the years following Israel’s establishment, non-Jewish intellectual and political elites in Iran generally saw Israel in a positive light. Many were intrigued by early articulations of Labor Zionism, which emphasized the proletarianization of society through dominant trade unions and communal agricultural-based collectives such as the kibbutzim. Left-leaning movements, like the Socialist Union and the communist Tudeh party, were dominant domestic opposition forces in Iranian politics. Once their attitudes towards Israel are examined through a geopolitical lens, their perspectives become significant and understandable. The Soviet Union, which supported the Tudeh Party, also supported the UN Partition Plan of Palestine in 1947 (which divided the land between a future Israeli and Palestinian state) and went on to recognize Israel in May 1948.

Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, late Shah of Iran (photo: Wikicommons)

Given the prevalence of the “Aryan Hypothesis” in Iran and the general yearning Westward during the Pahlavi dynasty, an ideological pact with Israel made a great deal of sense. This was especially true after the inception of the White Revolution in 1963, a move that was advertised as an attempt to rapidly modernize Iran along Western lines. The notion that these countries shared a more “Western” attitude even though they were situated in the “East” became an integral part in the foundation of a regional coalition among the non-Arab countries of the Greater Middle East (Turkey, Ethiopia, Iran, and Israel). This coalition came to be known as the “Alliance of the Periphery.”

The Shah, however, was a deeply unpopular and autocratic ruler among the majority of Iranians. Despite Israel’s role in consolidating the Shah’s autocratic rule, the Iranian elite’s fascination with Israel helped to create a surprisingly favorable opinion of Israel in Iran. Due to the close ties between the two governments, Iranians tended to associate Israel with projects like the rebuilding of Qazvin after the earthquake in 1962 rather than with the notoriously brutal Iranian secret police SAVAK, which the Israeli Mossad helped establish and train.

Although many of the political leaders of the Iranian Jewish communities were sympathetic to the Zionist cause, most Iranian Jews remained indifferent to it. In fact, many joined leftist movements in Iran and eventually assumed leadership positions in them, demonstrating that their political allegiances belonged first and foremost to Iran. Naturally, this situation caused major frustration in Israel, a state whose existence was and still is premised on the notion that the destinies of world Jewries and the State of Israel were inexorably intertwined.

The predominant Iranian Jewish interpretation of Zionism was different from the political Zionism espoused by the Israeli establishment at that time. The former did not necessitate the existence of a Jewish state, but rather reflected a religious sentiment and an emotional-cum-spiritual attachment to Zion, the biblical name of Jerusalem. This was not unique to the Iranian Jewry, but rather common among Jews across the Middle East. It, however, remained relevant only to Iranians, as the other communities for the most part ceased to exist post 1948-1956.

While many Iranian Jews had relatives in Israel and had visited Israel before, Israel was not part of their Jewish identity, and they did not see themselves leaving their beloved homeland for any other country — including Israel. Overwhelmingly, they did not share the political interpretation of of Zionism with the Zionist movement and Israel and tied any meaning of the term to the existence of the State of Israel.

To understand the unique place Israel occupied in the Iranian worldview, one should consider that Iranians who wrote about it. Jalal Pahlavi Al-e Ahmad, a foremost Iranian thinker, may have best conveyed the transformation of Israel’s representations in the Iranian public sphere. Al-e Ahmad, a one-time member of the Tudeh leadership, gained leftist-internationalist credentials with the publication of Gharbzadegi (1962), in which he criticized the tendency of broad segments of  Iranian society to blindly mimic the West. Gharbzadegi (“Westoxification”) lamented the inevitable loss of Iranian culture and identity to Western models and paradigms. His publication influenced a later generation of Iranian revolutionaries such as Ali Shariati and the current supreme leader, Sayyed Ali Khamenei.

Given his remarkable place in both the evolution of the Iranian Left and the development of contemporary political ideologies, one would not expect that he should name Israel as a model society. Yet, Al-e Ahmad conjured ideas that were common among intellectual circles in Iran before 1967 — ideas which brought home the message that Israel in its essence was a cultural and political ally.

Two years after the publication of Gharbzadegi, Al-e Ahmad and his wife, Simin Daneshvar, visited Israel. Al-e Ahmad’s travelogue, Safar Beh Vilayet-e Ezrael (Journey to the State of Israel) attests to the profound impression the country left on him. The critical thinker wrote about Israel in nothing less than admiring terms. He described in details a visit to Yad Va’Shem, the Holocaust memorial museum in Jerusalem, and expressed his fascination with the resurrection of the Jewish people after the horrors of the Holocaust. Later, he broadly discussed the Kibbutz in Israel and the state’s socialist ideology in positive terms.

During their visit, Al-e Ahmad and Daneshvar stayed in Kibbutz Ayelet Ha’Shahar in northern Israel. He described the Kibbutz for the Iranian reader as follows: “[…] these people in Israel had already laid the foundation for the socialization of the means of agricultural production in a part of the world which had been inspired by the Russian Social-Democratic movement and not by Stalin.” Thus, Al-e Ahmad associated Israel with the “correct” side of communist ideology, as the contemporary rift in the Tudeh party also created another communist opposition to Stalin’s legacy.

Jalal Al-e Ahmad and Simin Daneshvar’s writing from the Kibbutz Ayelet Ha’Shahar guestbook. (Kibbutz Ayelet Ha’Shahar archive)

There is perhaps another reason for Al-e Ahmad’s great sympathy for Israel. In his travelogue, Al-e Ahmad depicts the Arabs in derogatory terms as ideological and cultural enemies, to say the least. Cultural tensions between Arabs and Iranians surface clearly in the text. As he wrote: “I am a non-Arab citizen of the East who has suffered much at the hands of the Arabs and still does. In spite of all the services that ‘I’ [I as “Iran,” not the person of Jalal Al-e Ahmad] rendered to Islam through the ages and still does, they still refer to me as Ajam,” which, in this context, likely means a “foreigner” and “illiterate” as well. Similar statements can be found throughout the text. Given Al-e Ahmad’s public status, this travelogue certainly had an impact on Iranian perceptions of Israel.

Interestingly, Safar beh Vilayet-e Ezrael was published in a series of newspaper articles which was read and discussed among secular and religious intellectuals. For example, Iran’s current supreme leader, Seyyed Ali Khamenei, later recalled that this travelogue not only puzzled him but also stirred major controversy among the young clerics in Qom, specifically because of the inherent contradiction they saw between this book and Al-e Ahmad’s previous popular writings, first and foremost Gharbzadegi.

The year 1967 was a watershed moment in the relationship between Pahlavi Iran and the State of Israel. The Six Day War, during which Israel invaded its neighboring countries and occupied the West Bank, the Gaza Strip, the Sinai Peninsula and the Golan Heights, transformed Israel into a colonial power in the eyes of Iranian intellectual elites. After the war, many of the Soviet Bloc countries severed their relations with Israel, as did their satellite parties, including the Iranian Tudeh.

Jalal Al-e Ahmad wrote the last chapter of this travelogue in 1968, faithfully reflecting the transformation of Iranian attitudes towards Israel. In this chapter, he describes Israel as a part of a Western capitalist scheme in the region, explaining that the reactionary Arab regimes played into the hands of Israel and the colonial powers. He also criticizes French intellectual elites for their betrayal of the Arabs and supporting, yet again, a new colonial venture. His criticism was aimed directly at Jean-Paul Sartre and Claude Lanzmann for condemning the French colonialism in Algeria and being very critical towards Britain’s ventures, yet miraculously finding a way to ignore the exact same problems when it came to Israel.

Along with the elite’s opinion, Iranian popular perceptions of Israel also changed dramatically after 1967. A clear popular expression of this came about in 1968. That year, the Israeli and Iranian national football teams played against each other in Tehran as part of Asia Cup finals. Habib Elghanayan, a wealthy Jew and a community leader, purchased a large number of tickets for this game for Iranian Jews to attend and cheer for the Israeli team. This game, however, became a site where Iranian fans vehemently showed their discontent with Israel’s policy. The Israeli team and their supporters fell victims to brutal incitement and had to be escorted out of the stadium by the police. This incident reflected a sea change in the Iranians’ attitudes toward Israel. A one-time favorable partner now became an unwanted foreigner, protected only by the grace of the Shah’s iron fist.

Beginning in the 1970s, the Shah attempted to find new alliances in the Middle East and beyond. Iran’s relations with the Soviet Union and some of the Arab countries were revisited. A peace agreement with Iraq and the American election of President Jimmy Carter in 1976, and the subsequent harsh criticisms that Carter voiced against the human rights conditions in Iran, led the Shah to develop a more negative view of the State of Israel. By the late 1970s, the revolution toppled the Shah, and the new regime reflected the Iranian public’s feelings towards the State of Israel with vocal anti-Zionism, kicking the Israeli diplomatic mission out and developing strong ties to the Palestinian resistance. And while the majority of Iranians would come to forget the mixed feelings they initially harbored towards Israel prior to 1967, Jalal Al-e Ahmad’s writings still stand as an almost lonely testament to that time.

Lior Sternfeld is a PhD Candidate in the History Department in the University of Texas at Austin. His research focuses on Iranian social history and the religious minorities in Iran during the Pahlavi era. This post was first published on the Ajam Media Collective, an online space devoted to documenting and analyzing cultural, social, and political trends across diverse Iranian, Afghan, Central Asian, and their Diaspora communities, and was translated to Hebrew in Haokets. Haokets is a non-profit, independent, progressive Israeli web magazine that hosts critical discussion where hundreds of writers publish professional and original pieces on socioeconomic, cultural and philosophical issues, human rights activism, feminism, and Mizrahi politics. Visit their English-language blog.

By Daniel Bar-Tal

A right-wing protester holds up Israeli flags while thousands march in the annual human rights march in Tel Aviv. (photo by Activestills)

Israel is a prosperous and well developed state with remarkable achievements in technological, educational, cultural, scientific and agricultural spheres by every account. These achievements are a source of pride to Israelis as well as to Jews around the world. But beside these undeniable successes, a considerable segment of the Jews in Israel, who love their country and care about its future, also see a glass half empty.

They see the growing dominance of nationalistic, expansionist, and anti-democratic ideologies – goals and policies which have already crossed democratic and moral red lines. The ongoing occupation of the West Bank and the expansion of Jewish settlements in the occupied territories violate Palestinians’ basic human and collective rights and tear apart Israeli society’s democratic and moral fabric, as did past governments’ refusal to engage in meaningful negotiations with the Palestinians while ignoring the Arab Peace Initiative. In carrying out these policies, the government has not only violated international law, but at times also broken Israeli laws, thus seriously undermining the very foundation of Israeli democracy. We’ve witnessed systematic and often successful attempts to pass laws that contradict the fundamental democratic principle of equal treatment of minorities, along with institutionalized discrimination against minorities. In addition, we’ve seen organized attempts to silence criticism of Israeli policies and delegitimize dissenting voices in academia, the media and NGOs.

This deterioration, which has very serious practical implications, is taking place in the spheres of values, moral codes, norms and laws, so often people do not pay attention to them. They can live comfortably without exercising their right to freedom, without defending the rights of others or without observing discrimination, oppression or exploitation carried by their own society. This has happened in many places in the world, often directly affecting the fate of the Jewish people.

This is what is presently happening in Israel. But this time it is Jews who ignore, repress or rationalize deviations from the moral and democratic compass. This process is not surprising if one looks at the way in which a person grows up in Israel. In addition to the continuous external threats which provide the context, Israeli Jews pass through a uni-dimensional tunnel of formal socialization which limits them to different perspectives, and closes them off to alternative ideas to their formal narrative. It begins in the schooling process from kindergarten and continues throughout mandatory military service. Much of Israel’s mass media, although being relatively free, exercises self-mobilization on “security issues” and practices self-censorship in order to maintain a positive image of the state (Freedom House ranked Israel 65th out of 197 states in terms of freedom of the press).

Although there are also clear voices in the media, civil society, academia, art and the political arena that challenge the hegemonic political culture, most Israeli Jews do not subscribe to moral and democratic values of human rights, justice, freedom and equality, particularly when it comes to Palestinians (regardless of whether they are Israeli citizens or they live in the occupied territories). At best, the minority that does care about these values is viewed with disdain. At worst, they are seen as traitors who harm the state’s interests. There is a growing monopolization of patriotism and Zionism, which recognizes only one ideology, one goal and one policy as legitimate and patriotic. All other views are branded as harmful to the State of Israel and the Jewish people. Valid criticism is depicted as “anti-Semitic,” “anti-Israel,” or even as expressing “self-hatred.” This approach aims to silence critical voices by arousing fear, and constitutes a powerful tool that has been used over and over again by anti-democratic forces in different societies.

In light of this situation, it is imperative that Jews around the world who cherish humanistic values of Jewish heritage publicly express their concern about the current, critical situation in Israel, and call loudly and clearly for Israel to return to peaceful, moral, democratic and humanistic values. This is a vital manifestation of concern and love for Israel. It is a shared responsibility towards future generations, who will pay a heavy price for our silence and passivity. The cost of silence far exceeds the cost of involvement. What is at stake is no less than the future of the State of Israel, Israeli society and the Jewish people. It is an obligation to speak out and take action, as an ultimate expression of our identity and conscience. Ultimately, history will judge us by our actions.

Daniel Bar-Tal is a professor of political psychology at Tel Aviv University. He recently launched a project to encourage involvement of liberal Jews around the world to create a critical watch group to monitor Israeli legislation, policies and actions.

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