Palestinian girls sit in front of the Dome of the Rock in the Temple Mount compound on October 23, 2015. AFP/Ahmad Gharabli. |
Losing Palestine. By Haviv Rettig Gur. The Times of Israel, October 27, 2015.
Gur:
The terrorism of the past month is not a new surge in Palestinian opposition to Israel, but a howl against the pervasive Palestinian sense that resistance has failed.
Even
four weeks into this latest surge in violence, in the fast succession of
stabbings and protests and funerals and pronouncements, it can be hard to
figure out exactly what this round of terror attacks is actually about.
There
is no shortage of explanations, of course, but they usually say more about the
explainer than the phenomenon they are explaining.
Many
pundits sympathetic to the Palestinians’ plight have said the killings are
driven by economic or political “frustration” — a statement the attackers
themselves, along with their most passionate supporters in Palestinian
politics, often seem to contradict when they insist they are motivated by devotion
to God, Islam or the vision of a redeemed Palestine.
Those
who sympathize with the Israelis blame Palestinian “fanaticism” and point to
the attackers’ own rhetoric as proof. Yet that rhetoric, for all its
rejectionism, does not explain this specific outburst, since it does not mark a
change from the past. The Northern Branch of the Islamic Movement in Israel has
been warning for decades that the Jews are trying to “steal” Al-Aqsa.
Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas has been extolling the “martyrs”
— among them the killers of Israeli schoolchildren — for years, to the
consternation of Israelis and the complete disinterest of everyone else.
Neither
“fanaticism” — the term itself is a judgment, not a description — nor
“frustration” really encapsulate what the attacks mean in the cultural and
political context that spawned them, and to which they are speaking: the
Palestinian collective consciousness.
The Missing Intifada
The
First Intifada, beginning in 1987, was a genuinely popular effort supported by
broad swaths of Palestinian society. Its intent was thus more amorphous and
more authentic than any specific strategy adopted later on, authentic enough to
lead to fundamental shifts in how many Israelis perceived the moral claim the
Palestinians had on the Jewish state. The Second Intifada of 2000, with its
clear and oft-stated strategy — to cause enough pain and fear in the Israelis
that they will choose of their own accord to leave the land – was not born in
the grassroots, but at the very least enjoyed the apparent mobilization of
Palestinian elites.
The
latest wave of terrorism has broad support neither among the people nor among
the elites.
Indeed,
one of the most remarkable facts about the stabbings and protests that so
dominate the headlines of the past few weeks is how few Palestinians are
actually participating in them: a few hundred, and at moments of dramatic
mobilization — such as the occasional “days of rage” called by Arab leaders —
perhaps a few thousand.
This
absence is a fact that television news or viral Internet videos fail to convey,
since they are ill-equipped to tell a story they cannot show on video. Yet the
simple arithmetic is undeniable: the Palestinian people are not lashing out at
the Israelis. They are staying home. The elites, meanwhile, are paying lip
service to the “martyrs” — the PA’s lip service can be rabid, to be sure,
openly celebrating the stabbing of children or offering anti-Semitic blood
libels in official media — but are simultaneously acting with determination on
the ground to disrupt and stop the attacks against Israelis, and even, more
rarely, to offer arguments against them.
In this
absence of the people and the elites from the fighting, in the quiet, desperate
effort to end the violence alongside the public need to affirm its legitimacy,
a deeper message emerges. These youths — the average age of the attackers
hovers at around 20 — who are killing Israelis, and often dying almost
instantly in the attempt, are lauded as martyrs among Palestinians not so much
because Palestinians believe their deaths have meaning, but because it is too
agonizing to admit publicly that they do not. In their refusal to recognize
Palestinian authorities outside their own online networks, in their appeals to
religion and each other rather than the old heroes of the Palestinian
“resistance” that lend their names to the more established armed groups, they
are making a passionate plea to their own society to reclaim a vision that
their society has largely abandoned.
They
are resisting more than the Israeli occupation (we are describing the terrorists’
narrative for the moment; most Israelis believe the occupation persists because
of the violence, not the other way around). They are battling, too, the growing
Palestinian realization that their national movement has no answers, no
narrative or political vision that offers a way forward to better days. These
young killers are striving, in their kamikaze fervor, to rekindle the idea
among Palestinians that straightforward victory remains possible, if only
because the alternative – the possibility that Israel cannot be dislodged, that
the nostalgic vision of an undivided, unfettered Palestine cannot be reclaimed
— is simply too monstrous to accept.
So it
is significant that their actions are loudly celebrated and quietly regretted.
Unlike in the Second Intifada, when many Palestinians believed the suicide
bombings, for all their brutality, could at least be justified by the hope that
they might produce real results, few Palestinians now expect or even seriously
fantasize that any sort of victory might flow from these new suicides. The
deaths of these young killers, who proclaim their brutal acts are a reclamation
of Palestinian self-respect, only deepen the despair and sense of indignity
among the countrymen they leave behind.
Losing the Thread
The
Palestinian national movement once had a coherent narrative. The Israeli
polity, it claimed, was a political construct resting on force of arms and
doomed to collapse under the weight of its own injustice, taking with it back
to the colonialist, imperialist West the millions of Jews it dragged into this
land. This narrative formed the underlying logic of Palestinian terrorism.
Brutality was lionized precisely because in this analysis of the Israeli enemy,
exacting a high cost for Israel’s continued existence hastened the day of its
collapse, of its succumbing to its inherent weaknesses.
This
narrative drove Palestinian politics for generations. It was believed by
moderates and extremists alike. Its essential premise, that the Jews of Israel
are not a rights-bearing nation with nowhere else to go, but rather a
colonialist ideological construct imposed on this land by foreigners, has
become a pillar of more than Palestinian politics; it lies at the root of
Palestinian identity, of what Palestinian nationhood has come to mean.
Palestine, an identity that had no political expression until Zionism came into
being, is for Palestinians, at least in part, that cultural and social reality
delineated by the experience of being pushed back by the invading imperialism
of the Jews.
None of
that takes away from the Palestinians either their nationhood or their history.
Such identities and narratives can only be given to a nation by itself. Indeed,
Palestinian intellectuals usually agree that the challenge of Zionism coalesced
Palestinian national feeling to resist the newcomer.
Yet
this vision of the Jewish state has a glaring problem: it has failed
monstrously to predict events. Israel, that supposedly hollow shell, that
artificial ideological construct, has failed to collapse under its own weight.
Indeed, it is the Arab world that has collapsed around it while the Jewish
state continues, maddeningly, unjustly, to flourish. The promise of Israel’s
inner weakness, offered to the Palestinians as often by Jewish activists as by
Palestinian ideologues, has betrayed them. The Jews have failed to leave, and
despite the rallying of a handful of radical Jewish intellectuals to the cause,
won’t even acknowledge that their national identity is something less than
authentic.
Imperiled Al-Aqsa
A
comprehensive and startlingly deep September poll of Palestinian public opinion
lays out in painful detail the Palestinians’ current despondency.
“For
the first time since we started asking, a majority [of Palestinians, 53%,] now
demands the dissolution” of the Palestinian Authority, explains the report,
produced by the well-regarded Palestinian pollster Khalil Shikaki.
The
main reason: Palestinians feel defenseless against a looming, threatening
Israel. Fully 81% of Palestinians polled said they worried “that they would be
hurt by Israel or that their land would be confiscated or homes demolished,”
the study found.
This
figure would surprise most Israelis, who continue to view both the violence of
extremist Jews and the legal battles over housing construction and land
ownership in the West Bank as essentially peripheral phenomena. Whatever their
statistical scope – as with most things, Israeli and Palestinian officials
offer different figures – the effect of these experiences on Palestinians’
willingness to trust Israel is decisive.
Thus we
find that over two-thirds (68%) of Palestinians said in the Shikaki poll that
protecting them from extremist Jewish attacks is not the responsibility of the
Israel Defense Forces, but of the Palestinian Authority that ostensibly
represents them. A nearly identical number, 67%, said the PA was not doing all
it could to fulfill that responsibility – not that it was failing to protect
them, but that it wasn’t meaningfully trying.
Nearly
half of West Bank residents (48%) even said they would volunteer for unarmed
civil guard units in their towns and villages to defend against Israeli
violence, if the chance were offered to them.
This
sense of the failure of their national institutions doesn’t end with their
security. Palestinians feel actively oppressed by their leaders and ideologues.
In
Hamas-ruled Gaza, where the regime scarcely pretends to offer individual or
civil rights, just 19% say their media is free and only 29% say they can
criticize their government without fear (a number actually lower than the 34%
who say they support Hamas). It is commonly thought that the Palestinian
experience in Gaza is somehow fundamentally different from that in the West
Bank. When asked to describe their leaders, however, the dismal figures are
nearly the same in Palestinian Authority-controlled areas. Only 23% in the West
Bank say their press is free, and 29% – identical to those under Hamas rule –
say they can criticize their government.
It is
impossible to understand Palestinian claims that Israel seeks to rob them of
al-Aqsa, claims that underlie the latest violence, without first grasping this
pervasive sense of vulnerability and abandonment.
According
to the poll, the vast majority of Palestinians believe that Israel seeks to
change the situation at Jerusalem’s Temple Mount in its favor. Fully half — 50%
— of Palestinians say they believe Israel intends to destroy the Al-Aqsa Mosque
and the Dome of the Rock shrine and replace them with a Jewish Third Temple.
Another 21% say Israel intends to split the Temple Mount plateau and build a
synagogue alongside the Muslim sites. A further 10% — the total is now 81% —
said Israel wants to change the five-decade-old status quo that allows only
Muslims to pray there. Just 12% said Israel seeks to maintain the status quo.
Of
course, this widespread acceptance of claims to Israeli perfidy should not
surprise those familiar with past polls, or the Israeli-Palestinian conflict
generally. But Shikaki followed up this question with another, and respondents’
answers to this next question are astonishing.
Will
Israel succeed with its nefarious
plans, he asked.
Fully
half, 50%, of Palestinians said yes.
The
root of what the Israelis sometimes call the Palestinians’ “Big Lie” –
essentially, that the Jews are plotting to take Al-Aqsa away from them – is not
really very difficult for Israelis to understand after all. Vulnerability, Israelis
know well, can dramatically change your view of the enemy.
It
hardly matters whether any particular Israeli leader actually wants to change
the status quo on the Temple Mount at any particular moment. The simple fact
that they could do so if they wished – as vast numbers of Palestinians openly
believe – brings into agonizingly sharp relief the helplessness and failure of
Palestinian aspirations. The beating heart of Palestinian identity and
geography, the shrine that constitutes their claim to a seat of honor in Islam,
is in the iron grip of the enemy.
Prime
Minister Benjamin Netanyahu regularly insists that Israel has only good
intentions for the Temple Mount, saying his government will ensure Palestinian
rights and access to Al-Aqsa just as previous governments have for five
decades.
Palestinians
do not believe these assurances for several reasons: just as Israelis do not
see nuance among Palestinians, missing the general Palestinian despondency amid
the loud, violent terrorism of the stabbings, so Palestinians do not bother
distinguishing between the activism of Yehudah Glick or Uri Ariel and the
longstanding commitments of Israeli governments and the public to a peaceful
status quo at the site.
Palestinian
unfamiliarity with Israelis, despite the intimate closeness in which we all
live, also means they project onto Israel some measure of their own politics.
There is little doubt among most Palestinians that if the disparity of power
were reversed at the Temple Mount, as it was before 1967, Muslims would deny to
Jews what they believe Israel plans to deny to them; it is hard to really trust
that the Jews genuinely do not intend to do the same.
Finally,
and perhaps most importantly, Netanyahu does not seem to grasp that his
reassurances are themselves galling, since they highlight the intolerable fact
that Al-Aqsa’s fate really is ultimately dependent on him and his cabinet.
Last Stands
At
least two distinct Palestinian visions have emerged for helping the Palestinian
national movement to regain its footing.
One was
perhaps best articulated by the well-known Palestinian journalist Mohammed
Daraghmeh, who also serves as a Ramallah-based writer for AP. In a remarkable
column last week largely but not entirely ignored by Israelis, Daraghmeh spoke
directly to the young Palestinian attackers – and to their missing-in-action
leaders.
“After
the Second Intifada ended, we stood as one and said: We were wrong here,
mistaken there,” he wrote on the Palestinian news site al-Hadath. Yet this
belated self-criticism was ultimately cowardly, he implied, since Palestinian
intellectuals and leaders did not have the courage to speak out while the
intifada raged.
Today,
too, “the politicians are fearful for their popularity. But the intellectuals
charged with safeguarding the spirit of the nation – they must not be afraid.
They must shout in the loudest voice: Where are we going?”
According
to Daraghmeh, the only power the Palestinians can wield against the
overwhelming force of the Israeli occupier lies in the fact that “Palestine is
an international issue. [The issue] won’t be decided in a flurry of knives or
acts of martyrdom [suicide attacks], or in protests or demonstrations. It will
end only when the world understands it has a duty to intervene and to draw
borders and lines, as it did in Bosnia-Herzegovina, in Kosovo… One might ask:
How long? And I say: The day will come. … One might ask: Did the peaceful
struggle bring about the end of the occupation? And I say: Did the military and
armed struggle do so? …. Only the world can bring the solution. But it won’t do
so if we are silent, or if we commit suicide. It will [come to our rescue] if
we stay on the humane path of our national struggle…. Our children grab kitchen
knives in a wave of emotion…. We must stand before them and say to them: You
are destroying your lives and ours — Palestine needs you alive.”
Such
sentiments are easy to admire in the context of Palestinian discourse (Israelis
might be less moved; they won’t find here any moral qualms over the actual act
of stabbing innocent Israelis). Daraghmeh published his warning in a relatively
popular news outlet, one whose Facebook page boasts over 230,000 “likes.”
Indeed, his views reflect the essential strategy of Mahmoud Abbas’s Palestinian
Authority in recent years: internationalize the conflict, rope a basically
sympathetic world into the equation in order to force the Israelis to retreat.
Yet
this most moderate of Palestinian strategies suffers from the same weakness as
the more violent ones: it does not address hard strategic realities.
Daraghmeh
fails to note that the Bosnian and Kosovar conflicts were ended by the blunt
expedient of aerial bombardment. Is it really reasonable to expect what he
calls the “world” — US-led NATO, to be exact – to bomb Israel out of the West
Bank? Or less cartoonishly, can an Israeli public that consistently tells
pollsters it believes a West Bank withdrawal will result in vastly larger and
bloodier versions of the Gaza wars of recent years, with rockets targeting
Israel’s population centers and subsequent Israeli incursions dealing far worse
agony to Palestinians than the current occupation – can a voting public that
sees such risks in withdrawal be swayed by economic boycott, UN Human Rights
Council resolutions or the snubs of indignant NGOs to carry it out?
Then
there is the second Palestinian vision, which amounts to a denial that the past
strategies have failed. In Gaza, Hamas has spent the past four weeks loudly cheering on the violence in the West Bank.
Yet
ironically, this triumphalism, not the self-criticism of Daraghmeh, brings the
Palestinian strategic collapse into sharpest relief. Hamas has praised and sung
the glory of the stabbing attacks – while clamping down tightly on sympathetic
rocket attacks from Gaza out of fear that Israeli reprisals against the coastal
strip could further increase the cost Gazans believe they are paying for
Hamas’s strategy of perpetual struggle. (It is not an accident that Hamas’s
support in Gaza – 34% in September – marks a five-point drop from Shikaki’s
last poll in June.)
Worse,
Palestinian leaders do not seem to understand that Hamas’s support for violence
fatally undermines Abbas’s nonviolent internationalism, shoring up Israelis’
determination to resist withdrawal because they do not believe Abbas can really
hold out against Hamas if Israel pulls out.
The
irony is perhaps best encapsulated in last Monday’s comments by Izzat al-Rishq,
a member of Hamas’s political bureau based in Qatar, who proclaimed that “the
heroes of Palestine” have managed to place a “blockade” on the occupier with
only knives and handguns. To Israel’s actual blockade of Hamas-ruled Gaza the
group has found an answer by rhetorically padding the achievements of these
(mostly non-Hamas) killers into a comparable — and thus, the pretense goes, deterrence-producing
— response.
Similarly,
one of Hamas’s leaders in Gaza, Mahmoud al-Zahar, said last week that the
images of IDF soldiers fleeing a Palestinian shooter who opened fire on them at
Beersheba’s central bus station prove that Israeli soldiers are unfit even to
direct traffic. He did not seem to notice that such claims about the IDF’s
frailty might raise questions about Hamas’s inability to effectively puncture
the Israeli defensive line in the four wars it has fought with Israel since
Israel left the Gaza Strip.
When
Hamas decides to effectively sit out a major Palestinian assault on Israel
while proclaiming that the very same assault constitutes a force multiplier
that somehow balances the power of the sides, when it proclaims Israeli soldiers
are feeble while policing Gaza’s border to prevent Palestinians from clashing
with those soldiers and eliciting their response, one may safely conclude that
even Hamas isn’t quite sure how to move the Palestinian cause forward from this
nadir.
There
is, of course, one more voice: that of the attackers themselves. Here, too, the
strategic impasse soon becomes evident. Their self-proclaimed “Jerusalem
awakening,” at once an appeal to the sanctity of Al-Aqsa and an admonition at
the galling vacuum of powerlessness that Jerusalem has come to represent, is no
awakening at all. In their rejection of existing Palestinian authorities, these
“digital natives,” at home in the anarchic internet and partly shaped by its
narcissistic tendencies, are in search of a new cultural and political
wellspring of resistance that is not tainted by the failures of Fatah and
Hamas.
Israeli
security officials have told the cabinet in recent weeks that the stabbings are
largely the work of “lone wolves” who lack the sort of organizational
infrastructure that would make them vulnerable to easy disruption by Israeli
intelligence. The diffuse nature of this sort of online grassroots activity may
make them harder to intercept (at least until Israel’s security services
sufficiently penetrate Palestinian social media) but it also leaves them unable
to escalate the assault to the level that might drive real panic among Israelis
– the sort of panic that terrorism as a strategy fundamentally requires. Online
activism only really matters if it inspires a critical mass of real-world
activism. In the long list of painful ironies for the Palestinians, then, this
is yet another: the very thing that gives these young, decidedly modern
attackers their tactical advantage ensures their strategic defeat. Israelis who
ultimately brushed off the suicide bombings of the Second Intifada through the
simple expedient of continuing with their daily lives will not be cowed by
stabbings in the street.
This
simple truth is not lost on the attackers. It is one reason that they do not
discuss goals or strategy in any serious way. The video games, cartoons and
music videos they share are essentially devoid of a narrative. These artifacts
of the present state of Palestinian “popular resistance” are mostly focused not
on a discernible path to national redemption, but on the promise of personal
satisfaction. The message is simple: stab the Jews, watch them scream, prove to
yourself in that instant that they are mortal, vulnerable. For that brief
moment – so the online campaign implicitly claims – Palestinian dignity is
restored.
Yet the
real-world attacks that flow from this promise, the moments of frantic
scuffling with Israelis, the quick deaths the attackers meet time and again,
even when facing unarmed Israeli civilians, only bring the collapse of
Palestinian solutions and self-respect – and Israeli unflappability – into
sharper relief.
Necessary Failure?
None of
this is a moral argument. Whether the Palestinians’ essential claims are right
or wrong, or the Israelis’ skepticism of withdrawal moral or immoral – indeed,
whether any of this is good or bad for ostensibly victorious Israel – are
separate issues to the simple fact of the Palestinians’ growing realization
that they can no longer articulate meaningful options, violent or otherwise,
for reclaiming control of their fate.
Yet in
the very admission of failure, as always, lies a hint at a possible path that
leads in a different direction.
The
Palestinian national movement has paid a monstrous price for its misreading of
the Jews — for failing to understand that Israeli Jews are largely the
descendants of refugees who had nowhere else to go in the brutalities of the
20th century, and thus could not be driven away with terrorism as scattered
European colonialists, far from their distant homelands but never estranged
from them, emphatically could. The Jews’ resilience to Arab violence lies not
in historical realities, but in psychological ones; the Jews believe that they are a people defending
themselves, and that is enough to inoculate them to terrorism. Terrorism, after
all, is an attempt to exact a cost from a certain behavior; it depends heavily
on the victims perceiving a viable alternative to their present behavior.
Yet by
this analysis, the Israeli victory is exceedingly limited. It is not rooted in
any wise Israeli policy, but in unconscious processes of Israeli identity.
Similarly, this victory cannot “solve” the essential challenge. No one has yet
suggested a plausible means by which either people might be forced out of this
land. So the Israelis and Palestinians remain stuck, whether in failure or
success, in coexistence or wild brutality, with the hard reality of each
other’s existence as self-proclaimed nations.
It’s
not hard to understand why the Palestinians have struggled to come to terms
with the Jewish presence in this sense. The barriers to recognition are
immense. If the Jews can’t be made to leave, if the foundational strategy of
scaring them off wasn’t rooted in an understanding of what that might entail –
that is, of how the alternatives to this homeland might appear in the Jews’
collective psyche – then what is the value of Palestinian sacrifices made on
the altar of this misbegotten strategy?
Indeed,
if the Jews of “colonialist” Israel cannot be dislodged, does that mean they
are not like other colonial projects that could
be made to collapse? If they are not colonists who can be pushed back to
Germany or Russia or Iraq or Morocco from whence they came, what are they? What
is to be done with the fact of the enemy’s implacable claims to nationhood,
which clash so directly with Palestinian claims?
Nations
have rights, and do not lose these rights when they err. That is why
Palestinian leaders are so fearful of acquiescing to Israel’s demand that they
recognize Jewish nationhood; among their arguments against the demand, one is
paramount: it amounts to recognition of Jewish national rights, a vastly more profound concession than Palestinian
moderates’ acknowledgment of Jewish power.
Failure
has not yet led to any serious consideration that the premise at the heart of
the Palestinian strategy may be wrong. No Palestinian who matters, who shapes
opinion or controls militias, is willing to be the first to acknowledge defeat.
And so
even as Palestinian public opinion grows weary of the pointlessness of the
current struggle, Palestinian politics remain trapped in the lingering
uncertainty, an uncertainty that is Hamas’s lifeblood and validation: What if
we are giving up too soon? What if a little more pain, a little more sacrifice,
will yet redeem and restore all that has been lost?
Few
really believe that anymore in Palestine, but none are yet willing to seek
another path.