So many news items today—many about Vittorio Arrigoni, some about Goldstone (the latter not in this message), and other matters. Out of the 20 or so that I have copied and saved in folders, 7 are below.
The initial one, ‘Another Country,’ is by far the longest, but worth your time. It gives a relatively accurate impression of procedures in trials of Palestinians in a military court, this one being the court in Ofer. Are the trials just? Well read and see what you think.
Item 2 is a survey which reveals that Israeli Ethiopian students fall way behind other Jewish Israeli students. No mention of Arab Israeli citizens’ stats. Interesting that the survey compares only Jewish students. Of course if enough money had been dedicated to helping these students adjust, they undoubtedly would have done better. Ethiopian children, like other Jewish children, include those who do better in studies and those who do worse. But they as a whole are no less intelligent than are other Jewish or Arab children.
Item 3 relates the trials and tribulations of Palestinian Christians who wish to celebrate Easter in Jerusalem. Israeli spokespersons can utter as many times as they wish that there is no religious discrimination in Israel, but their acts prove differently.
Item 4 is one of the many on Vittorio Arrigoni. I found this one particularly touching.
Item 5 sees Arrigoni’s murder as carrying a warning. His murder signals a change in the relative calm that preceded it as does the latest exchange between Israel and Gaza. This change can have implications for the future. The keys to preventing disaster are in Israel’s hands: ease the blockade.
Item 6 is about Israel’s treatment of the ‘flow of African immigrants.’ I find Israel’s treatment disgusting—racist, to be more accurate, and inhumane. The argument that every country has a right to restrict immigration might have some value, but not when it is done on racist lines. This is the problem with a tribal society, be it a pure Aryan one or a pure Jewish one! It has no room for ‘the other.’
Item 7 is about the impact of Pro-Israel lobby groups, working with House majority leader Eric Cantor on Israeli-US relations.
Sorry to burden you, but, as I’ve said more than once—I don’t make the news, I only select what to omit and what to include in a message.
Still hoping for better news, for the light at the end of the tunnel to shine a bit more brightly.
Dorothy
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1. Haaretz ,
April 15, 2011
Another country
Thousands of Palestinians go on trial every year in the Ofer military court for offenses like illegally entering Israel or demonstrating against the separation fence. No one really wants to know what goes on there. So is there any point at all to telling this story?
The entrance: You stand alongside a metal fence; there is no one around. Three meters away there’s a sealed glass booth. You don’t know who is looking at you right now; in fact, you don’t know whether anyone is looking at you. Held somewhat in suspense, you wait. A few seconds go by. When the seconds turn into minutes, you shout, “Hey, is anyone there?” When nobody answers, you wait a few more minutes. It’s still quiet. Now you start hitting the metal fence. Once, twice, three times. Suddenly you hear a shout: “Wait a minute.” Another few minutes go by. You pound the metal fence again. “What do you want?” someone asks. You bark that you’ve come for a trial, that you have to enter. A soldier in uniform comes out to you, jots down your details, and returns. Finally, you enter.
A few long moments have gone by since you entered, and nothing happens. You look from side to side. There are some people on the other side of the nearby fence. You don’t understand what they are doing there. You think they are already in the court area; you suspect they are prison detainees. Later it turns out that they are not detainees, that they live in another country. You don’t look them in the eye. You are embarrassed.
That other country is a meter away from you. The fence, which divides the court area in two, is a miniature representation of the separation fence. A Palestinian who is summoned to the court cannot arrive by traveling on the main road, Highway 443, the route you followed just an hour ago. That road is limited to ordinary travelers, like yourself. The High Court actually ruled that Palestinians can travel on it, but they can only travel on its less useful stretches. In order to reach the court, Palestinians must travel on a different, longer road, which features two checkpoints (Bitunia and Qalandiyah ).
A Palestinian reaches the court and is placed on the left side of the fence. An Israeli who travels to the court on the fast highway, positions himself on the right side. Right now, the Palestinian and the Israeli stand relatively close to one another; neither looks the other in the eye; each tries to stay in his own world.
An attorney stands close to me. He too has been waiting for several minutes. He is angry; his client’s trial is set to start in another few minutes. He calls to someone who is on the other side of the glass booth, and asks that the door be opened. Nobody answers him. He yells, but is greeted again by silence. More shouts; more silence. In the end, he loses patience and pounds on the fence angrily. The person behind the glass booth cries out to him: “What’s happened, what’s happened?” The lawyer responds: “I’ve been here for half an hour, I am a lawyer, I have a trial to go to, let me pass through.” The lawyer speaks in a voice filled with frustration and disgust. There is a pause for several seconds; apparently a consultation is being held.
“Why do you act like a bulldog?” The lawyer is asked, as he passes through the court gates. “I am a bulldog? You are a bulldog!” The person in the glass booth laughs, but the lawyer is not amused.
I wait for my own bell to ring. The time comes: I pass through the gate, but my way is blocked by a big blue door. I wait. After another few minutes, a warden comes out and asks tersely what I want. I tell him that I’ve come to cover a trial. “Whose trial?”
“Mohammed Khatib.”
“I hope they throw 40 years in his face.”
The blue metal door opens, and I reach an inspection point. You take off your shoes, your jacket; you empty your pockets, and are asked to pass through the security machine. It beeps. “Go back – do you have something else in your pockets?” There is a pen. I take out the pen, and make it past the detectors, but the security check hasn’t ended. There are two small booths, for men and women, where hand-checks are conducted. The two inspectors call me into the booth. They are instructed to make a perfunctory check – “He’s a journalist.” Hands to the sides, pockets emptied out. “What are you covering?” I’m asked. “For which newspaper? You have no camera, correct?” Correct; everything is correct.
This is the Ofer military court. Its purpose is to enclose the occupation within a defined, justiciable framework. At night, IDF soldiers enter villages and arrest Palestinians; in the morning, Palestinians are brought, handcuffed, to Ofer, and sent to a jail located a few meters from the court. Hearings about the detainees are held on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday of each week in seven trailers called “halls.” In 2009, 12,428 persons were detained; in 2008, the figure was 13,003; in 2007, 14,198; in 2006, 16,451. This is a factory for detainees. I’ve come to observe this factory, to see how it works.
A few words about the problem. The biggest problem is that most people don’t care about the Ofer military court. They don’t care about its activity or its meaning. My sense is that the moment an Arab name appears on a document – Abdullah, for instance – interest levels plummet. Apathy reigns, because the dispute has become a mechanized routine. There are “leftists,” and “rightists,” and any new fact is processed according to such categories. The automatic branding spares people the need to wrestle morally with hard facts, and relieves them of considerable heartache. Yet the automatic branding perpetuates the situation and renders invisible anyone who doesn’t want to perpetuate it. Writing about the military court at Ofer is like transcribing reality in invisible ink. The ink is wrapped in paper that declares “only for leftists; only leftists will see this ink.”
I have some questions:
Am I the only person who feels this way?
Are the statements wrapped around the ink correct?
Is there a point to telling this story?
Perhaps the names of the Palestinians should be erased, and we should use numbers instead?
After asking these and other questions, I decided to tell everything exactly as I saw it.
A woman, 19 years old I don’t know what sort of trial is being held in hall number 3, but it doesn’t really matter. After eight visits to the Ofer military court, the conclusion is inescapable: In every hall, at all times, an interesting trial is being held. The interesting aspect does not always derive from the facts of the case; sometimes the trial situation itself is what creates a Kafka-esque atmosphere, one that leaves you speechless. I go in.
A 19-year-old woman is standing in the hall, declaring “I am sorry, your honor, I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t do it again.” I look at her; she has put on a lot of makeup and is holding a handbag. She looks like an Israeli teenager a few months before her army service. I wonder, what is she sorry about? What lesson has she learned?
The judge says: “I accept the plea bargain. I believe that S. has decided to rehabilitate herself and go on with her life. She expresses regret about what she did, and claims that she has learned her lesson. For this reason, I sentence her to a month’s suspended sentence, and an NIS 800 fine.”
Here’s the story: It turns out that S. has a Palestinian father and an Israeli mother. One day, loneliness overcame her, and she decided to visit her mother in Jerusalem. She traveled there and was apprehended by security forces. She was put on trial for this offense. The judge now trusts that she will rehabilitate herself, that she will change her ways. If not, next time she will spend a month in prison.
Orange boy The “orange boy” enters hall number 4 with a few other people, all older than he is. The orange boy is 14 or 15; he has a baby face, and is called “orange” since his uniform is that color, unlike the gray and black uniforms worn by the other prisoners.
When he enters hall number 4, the orange boy suddenly sees his parents. His mother wears traditional dress; the father has on an old jacket and is missing two front teeth. I look at the orange boy, and notice that his face is twitching uncomfortably. It appears that he is trying to brush something off his body, or refrain from some action that his body is forcing on him. It seems that the orange boy is excited. When his mother waves at him, he can’t control his emotions any longer, and bursts into tears.
Within seconds, he grasps that the situation is problematic – some older prisoners are standing around him. These are ill-shaven, battle-worn men; what do they make of the orange boy’s tears? Using his orange shirt, he tries to wipe the shameful tears from his face. Yet despite his desire to stop crying, the tears keep streaming down. I look at his parents; they don’t know how to respond. I try to ask them why their son was arrested; but they don’t understand a word I’m saying.
They read out his name. He doesn’t know that he’s supposed to stand up. His attorney gestures to him, using his hands. “Stand up!” He stands up. The attorney is dressed in an expensive jacket and wears fancy shoes; his hair is carefully combed to conceal his bald pate; he has designer sunglasses. The lawyer is everyone’s friend in the trailer, including the prosecutor. He goes to the prosecutor, who represents the police in this case, and taps him on the back; the two lawyers conduct a short discussion, and the trial is set to start.
But it doesn’t begin. It turns out that there is a more important detainee to take care of, ahead of the orange boy. The boy is told to sit down. Right now he points to his mother, and wants to say something, but anything that comes out of his mouth is drowned out by the commotion in the trailer. The judge raises his voice, declaring: “Three of you in the back, I’ll expel you from the hall. I’m warning you this one time: I’ll expel the lawyers if I have to.” The boy starts crying again.
It turns out that he has been in prison for six days. According to legal procedure in the West Bank, a person, including a child, can be held in custody for eight days before being brought before a judge. Within the Green Line, the law says that a suspect has to be brought to a judge within 24 hours. In the West Bank, a child is anyone under the age of 16. In Israel, a child is anyone under the age of 18. Different laws for different folks. Now, here’s the trial scene featuring the orange boy, with the well-outfitted attorney and prosecutor as supporting actors:
The prosecutor, aged 50, in civilian dress, wears reading glasses, and speaks in pithy sentences. It should be borne in mind that each time he says “it appears in the report,” he is referring to an account that was relayed to the court, but whose contents have been shown neither to the defendant nor to his attorney.
The orange boy’s attorney: “How many times have you interrogated him?”
Prosecutor: “It appears in the report.”
Defense attorney: “Were the offenses carried out, or not?”
Prosecutor: “It appears in the report.”
Defense attorney: “Are there confessions.”
Prosecutor: “It appears in the report.”
Defense attorney: “Is there more than one confession?”
Prosecutor: “The interrogation reports are with the court.”
Defense attorney (despondent ): “Do you intend, after interrogation, to submit an indictment against him, or transfer him to the civil administration?”
Prosecutor: “Everything will be decided at the end of the investigation.”
Defense attorney: “Why are you asking for an arrest remand of 21 days; he has already been in custody for six days.”
Prosecutor: “It appears in the report.”
Defense attorney: “Are you trying to tell me that your investigation needs 21 days?”
Prosecutor: “As it appears in the report.”
Defense attorney: “Do you question him during day or night?”
Prosecutor: “It appears in the report.”
Defense attorney: “Did you investigate him yesterday in the nighttime?”
Prosecutor: “Defense is repeating the same questions.”
Subsequently, the orange boy’s lawyer delivers a speech: “Your honor, my client is being interrogated in a cruel, undignified fashion, and I intend to lodge a complaint about this procedure. During the interrogation, questioners hit him, and yell at him, trying to force a confession. I ask that he be released from custody, even if the bond is a costly sum – whatever bond you set [will be met]. He was a minor at the time he acted. I ask that you review carefully the classified materials, and strike a fair balance.”
The judge’s decision: “The suspect has been in custody since December 23 [six days]. I have found that there is reasonable suspicion that the suspect is involved in grave offenses injurious to security in the region. Interrogators should be allowed to complete the investigation. Yet I do not believe that the request [for 21 days in remand] ought to be met in full; this is a very long period. I rule in favor of an extension of the remand for 10 days.”
A soldier translates these words to the orange boy, and his parents listen as well. The bottom line is that he won’t be brought to trial for another 10 days – that will be after a total of 16 days in custody. Then he will be sentenced to another few months in prison. The orange boy cries. His mother joins with tears of her own. The father keeps all emotion off his face.
In a car, en route to Tel Aviv. On the way home, with hot air blowing into your face and the radio blaring music, you forget quickly. It’s very easy to forget, because you haven’t seen troubling events firsthand. Your eyes saw a military base, and people sitting on benches, and speaking. You tried to process second- and thirdhand information to get a sense of what was going on; but in order to be shocked, you need to fully understand what was happening. And at Ofer, you need to understand what is going on before you can feel what it means.
Here’s an example of the way you forget: At a certain point on the journey home, a car behind me flashed its bright lights, urging me to switch lanes. I drive pretty fast, at 100 kilometers an hour at least. It was hard to move into the next lane, because there were too many cars around. I stayed in my lane for another few seconds; the car behind me started to flicker its lights and pulled up right behind me in the way Israeli drivers love to have their cars kiss the bumpers of the vehicles in front of them. In the end, I moved into the right lane. He passed me, and fired off an angry look. I was angry. For the next few seconds, I’ll think about the barbarism of the driver who used the bright lights. That’s where my thoughts will be. And then someone will call, and we’ll talk about sports until I get home and park. When I enter my house, I’ll give my child a bath and then I’ll lie down to go to sleep. Later, I’ll fall asleep. Tomorrow is another day.
Abdallah Abu Rahmah The Ofer military court is located close to Jerusalem’s Pisgat Ze’ev neighborhood. In winter, harsh winds blow and temperatures drop. It’s very cold. In hall number 3, the warden is frustrated. Relating to the next prisoner on the docket, he wonders, “Why didn’t they bring his grandmother here?” He can’t understand what so many people are doing in the trailer. He also doesn’t understand why they are wearing expensive jackets, and why the women look as though they have been photographed for fashion magazines.
One soldier, who stands next to where the defendants enter the hall, says, “We’ll be here until 5 P.M.” A woman soldier standing next to him, corrects that assessment – “at least until 7 P.M.” Another woman soldier moans, “I have a problem, I have to go home.”
There is one photographer in the hall, and he keeps shooting pictures. He is taking photos of a defendant who has an embarrassed smile on his face. Some soldiers roar with laughter: They can’t understand what is worth all these photographs. At the end of the day, it’s just another trial.
In fact, it’s not a trial, it’s an appeal. The case: the IDF vs. Abdallah Abu Rahmah. The 10 soldiers in the hall don’t really care about Abu Rahmah. They don’t have any idea who he is; they want to go home at 5 P.M., and they can’t figure out why so many people have come. They express frustration, but the drama in the hall makes them forget their desires to go home, and they try to understand why this trial has attracted so many well-dressed people.
These well-dressed people happen to be diplomats – the British consul-general, the Spanish deputy consul-general, other diplomats from Britain, Germany, and France, and four European Union diplomats. They are here because Abdallah Abu Rahmah has been designated a human rights activist by the EU. The guard at the door doesn’t understand what all the discussion about human rights is about. He thinks the dignified visitors are journalists. “What newspaper are you from?” he asks me.
Haaretz, I answer.
“That only proves what I always say,” quips the soldier.
“What is it that you always say?” I ask.
“That it’s a leftist newspaper.”
“Why is that? Is there no need to cover what happens here?” I query.
“No. Look around, do you see a reporter from Israel Hayom, Maariv or Yedioth Ahronoth?”
“I don’t know why they aren’t here. But don’t you think that what happens here should be covered?”
“They aren’t worth the cost of the paper used to write about them.”
A woman soldier chimes in, saying: “They’re not worth it: nobody needs to know anything about them.”
A worker in the cafeteria wonders why so many people have come today. I explain that there’s a hearing about a Palestinian who has been declared to be a human rights activist, and who has been held in confinement for a year. The cafeteria worker nods his head, serves me coffee, and continues making an omelet for a soldier who serves on the base. It’s still very cold out, and three groups of people huddle inside the cafeteria: Palestinians, Israelis and diplomats. It’s a strange scene: people dressed in expensive jackets sit on cheap metal benches alongside Palestinian mothers in traditional garb. There’s no connection between the groups – the diplomats sit on the right, the Palestinian families on the left. The cultural gap is huge, and it’s hard to bridge it in the few minutes allowed by a trial recess. So the groups sit on different sides, and nobody says anything.
The other law Abdallah Abu Rahmah was convicted a year ago on four counts connected to demonstrations against the separation fence in Bil’in. The counts: incitement, involvement in unauthorized demonstrations, stone throwing and illicit use of firearms. He was arrested and sentenced to 12 months in prison. The sentence was delivered a few days before he completed 12 months in custody. Exactly at the moment he was to be released from prison, the military prosecutors decided that an additional punishment should be meted out. He appealed; Abu Rahmah remained in prison, and right now the judge is reviewing claims made by both sides.
The case against Abdallah Abu Rahmah is based on testimony given by some small children who were arrested in the middle of the night. Abu Rahmah’s attorney, Gabi Lasky, tells the judge: There is a law for the protection of minors. Children cannot be whisked from their homes in the middle of the night by soldiers who wield rifles; notification has to be given to their parents before they are questioned; this is all inadmissible evidence.
The judge explains to Lasky that the law for the protection of minors does not apply in the West Bank. He is right. Under the law in this other land, children can be taken from their homes at gunpoint in the middle of the night, without their parents being notified about the intention to interrogate them.
The attorney counters, claiming that children under such circumstances suffer from post-traumatic stress, and their testimony has to be seen in this light. The judge says that there is no scientific proof of this claim.
The translators The cafeteria is 6.6 meters wide and 10 meters long. Chairs are arranged along the walls. There are a number of signs in Arabic – “Smoking is forbidden,” “Please don’t touch.” There are rosters listing the names of prisoners whose hearings will be held during the day. A group of Palestinians from the territories sit on the cafeteria floor, praying. There are eight trash cans in the cafeteria. When it is cold, everyone waits inside the cafeteria; when it is hot, people wait outside.
There is no way of knowing when the hearing I have come to cover will be held. The families of prisoners are told to come at 9 A.M.; sometimes they stay at Ofer until 4:30 P.M. This is a wearisome business; the tension is debilitating; everyone smokes. The people who determine when, and in which trailer, hearings will be held are the translators. The translators – all Druze, with one exception – have the function of mediating between the Israelis and the Palestinians.
The task of translation sometimes appears to be a burden they do not want to assume. Sometimes they translate as though they are saying something incidental, as though they are being forced to utter some words. During some hearings, they have trouble looking the accused in the eye. The fact that they know Arabic creates a link of sorts between themselves and the stigmatized population of the Ofer court, the Palestinians.
Some translators, however, create a different sort of impression: They translate the words clearly and look straight at the accused. I noticed a young translator with the rank of private who was roaming around the prefab structures that are called “bathrooms.” Usually I don’t have a chance to speak with the soldiers, but taking advantage of our secluded position, close to these dismal restrooms, I decide to initiate a conversation. I won’t cite the translator’s name. He enlisted in August, and intended to serve in the Israel Prison Service. Why the prison service? I ask.
“I’m from the north,” he explains, “and in the prison service you do a day on the base, and then go home for 48 hours. You also have a career after your service.”
How did you become a translator?
“They just told me I’m going to be a translator. I didn’t understand what that meant. They told me that I would be assigned to Ofer; I didn’t know what that meant.”
Are all the translators here Druze?
“All are Druze, other than one Jew who immigrated from Syria.”
What do you do here? It looks as though you run the place.
“Our work is very important. First of all, there’s the translation itself. It’s important that the defendant know everything, along with the defense attorneys who often don’t know any Arabic. We have a lot of responsibility.”
Do you translate every word, every remark?
“Everything, other than jokes, and things that are said that have no connection to the trial.”
You need to concentrate carefully.
“That’s what is so hard. Do you know what it’s like translating for a whole hour? It’s exhausting. So we rotate among ourselves during long trials.”
Why do people come to you to ask where the trial will be held, in which hall? You are, after all, the translator.
“True, but we more or less set the agenda. We consult with the judges, see what is more important and less important – depending on the level of importance, we set [the schedule].”
At this stage, Hamdan, also a Druze soldier, who is generally responsible for keeping order in the court and has specific authority to deal with journalists, notices that I am speaking with a soldier. He is furious, and approaches the soldier. “Why are you talking with him,” he growls at the soldier. “He is a journalist. Did anyone give you authorization to speak with him?”
I tell Hamdan that he is yelling for no good reason, that I am the one who initiated the conversation, and that it’s not clear whether the soldier noticed that I am a journalist. Hamdan, normally a pleasant fellow, is not convinced. He dismisses the soldier, and gives me a nasty look.
A slice of life in Israel, March 2011: On the dais there are three judges, all male Ashkenazi officers. To their left is a female stenographer. One judge tells her, “Not there, you erred on the 14th line; go down a line, write this and that.” Below this stage sits a Druze translator, working as a liaison between a Jewish attorney and Arab defendants. The defendants are Palestinians from the territories; behind them is the prosecutor, the Israel Defense Forces. Here is Israel in a nutshell: an officer who makes the decisions, a young woman stenographer, a Druze mediator and an accused Palestinian.
A comment on ‘envelopes’ Officials at the Ofer military court make frequent use of the term “envelopes.” Repeatedly, during hearings, the judge uses the term to create a link between the incomplete evidence and the inevitable decision to hold the detainee in custody after the hearing. The connotations of the term suggest that confinement or punitive action can be warranted, even in the absence of proof of specific activity. Here’s an example: A Palestinian says he is 17 years old. It turns out that he is 19. He left a box of fireworks in an area that was liable to explode whenever people walked by it. The prosecution also claims he is guilty of stone throwing, but it lacks proof of this. It is stuck with the firecrackers. The defense counsel says he objects to an extended remand; his client denies the charges, and the single offense in question is not a grave matter, since we are talking, after all, about firecrackers.
The decision: “The defendant laid a bomb; there is evidentiary foundation for this offense; the offense is enveloped within the evidentiary materials; under these circumstances, in light of the danger posed by his actions, the accused should remain in detention until proceedings in his case are completed.”
In actual fact, our own existential fears are “enveloped” within the use of this term. By using the term, we silence these fears, at least temporarily. Perhaps that is the reason why our existence here is enveloped within strange, uneasy feelings.
An example of discrimination The picture appears in each trailer: a soldier prosecutor and a soldier judge. The fact that in 2004, the military courts were separated from the IDF advocate general in order to strengthen the judges’ independence does not eradicate the structural conflict of interests. The army is the legislative, judicial and executive branch here. Even if the judges try to render straightforward, well-reasoned verdicts, they are nonetheless acting within a legal framework that is unlike the system of justice that obtains in Israel. Each time a persuasive argument is made by defense counsel, it suddenly turns out that the claim is not valid, because it relies on norms and procedures that apply only in Israel’s judicial system. It is extremely confusing and troubling. In the state you live in, there are two separate legal systems, for two different populations.
In most cases, the discrimination precedes the stage in which the detainee is brought to court. For example, when Abdallah Abu Rahmah was arrested several years ago, during a demonstration in Bil’in, six persons were detained – Abdallah Abu Rahmah, Ratab Abu Rahmah, and four Israeli Jews. All were charged with disturbing public order. The two Palestinians were interrogated, issued denials, and were imprisoned. Ratab was held in custody for two weeks. An indictment was issued against him, along with a request that he be held in remand until proceedings in his case were completed. Abdallah was held for a similar period, and an indictment was filed against him.
In contrast, the four Israeli detainees did not cooperate with investigators. In the police station, investigators offered to release three, with restrictive conditions. One agreed; two refused the offer, as an act of solidarity with their Palestinian comrades. The three Israelis who were held in custody were released by the courts after spending one night in jail. Files on all four were closed.
The car, and home On January 11, I arrive once again at Ofer. A verdict is supposed to be delivered today on the army’s appeal of the decision to release Abdallah Abu Rahmah. The diplomats reach the court entrance. Unlike previous episodes, this time the court is prepared for the visitors. A delegate from the IDF Spokesman’s office is on hand to deal with the foreign media; the inspection booths are manned; soldiers in the glass booth show signs of life; and so there is almost an atmosphere of celebration in a place that is the antithesis of joy.
There is commotion in the compound around the court. Human rights workers discuss matters with Palestinians; and foreign journalists (only foreign journalists, since in Israel, there is no interest in this case ) talk among themselves, waiting to be called to the big trailer. The cafeteria worker asks me what’s going on, why there are so many people. I explain to him that a verdict is due today in the case of a defendant who is defined as a human rights activist. He nods his head, as though he understands, and asks whether I want anything. I order a coffee (NIS 7 ). Before I can take a sip, Hamdan – today he is exceedingly pleasant – signals that we can enter the hall.
The courtroom is chaotic. A photographer who has taken a picture of Abu Rahmah is reluctant to leave the trailer and one Prison Service official yells to another, “He’s not listening, get him out.”
At the end of a relatively short discussion, the judge announces that he has decided on a 16-month sentence for Abu Rahmah. Since Abu Rahmah has already been behind bars for 13 months, he only has three months left. Given the general absurdity of the situation, this is a reasonable verdict: the expectation was an 18-month sentence.
Outside the trailer, 10 foreign journalists are straining to hear attorney Gabi Lasky. She explains in fluent English the meaning of the verdict, and her reservations about it; an IDF spokesman heads toward her, and asks her to speak into the cameras. She responds: “I’m speaking right now to people, not to cameras.” The IDF man cracks a confused grin, and leaves the scene. After a few minutes, Hamdan signals that we should leave the compound around the trailer.
Presents The way out is like the way in, although there are fewer delays for security checks. You have to pass through some electronic devices while the man in the glass booth watches you. Then you have to go up to a plastic window and receive your identity card. Eventually, you wait by a metal door, until the man in the glass booth pushes a button; usually it takes him a few minutes to carry out this action. After the metal door opens, you find yourself in the Palestinians’ compound, the spot you noticed to your left when you entered the facility. This is, in effect, a different part of the land of Israel. You stand there with your back to the Palestinians, who look at you somewhat incredulously, as though to say, “Well, we have to be here, but what’s your excuse?”
The person in the glass booth has forgotten about you; you have to shout to get him to move, or you can knock on the metal gate; after you pound on the gate, you should hear a buzzer. When the buzzer sounds, you have to move fast, because the man in the glass booth has a short attention span, and he’ll forget about you after a few seconds. If you’ve moved quickly, you are in another compound that is fenced off by bars and an iron fence. You knock on it, and the chances are you’ll be able to get into your car after a few seconds. You put on a CD, and sing along with Eviatar Banai: “When I get out of this, I’ll buy presents for everyone.”
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2. Haaretz,
April 15, 2011
Survey: Israeli Ethiopian students lag far behind other Jewish counterparts
In addition to lagging behind scholastically, children of Ethiopian origin say they have had to endure racist remarks almost three times more frequently than such remarks were reported by the general population of children surveyed.
Significant gaps exist in achievement between students of Ethiopian origin and those of all students in the Jewish sector in standardized tests, a recent Education Ministry report revealed.
The largest and possibly most significant gap is in eighth-grade math, where students in the Jewish sector overall scored an average of 50 points out of 100 and Ethiopian-Israeli students scored 26. In other subjects, including English, Hebrew and the sciences, the gap was between 18 and 25 points.
“The education system has still not found the way to improve the scholastic achievements of this community,” says Roni Akale of FIDEL, the Association for Education and Social Integration of Ethiopian Jews in Israel.
The recently completed report is based on the achievements of students who were born in Ethiopia or whose parents were born in Ethiopia, on the standardized tests administered nationally between 2007 and 2010 by the Education Ministry to children from the fifth to eighth grades. The report also states that gaps between children of Ethiopian origin and others have been noted as early as the second grade in terms of proficiency in Hebrew.
The report also notes that children of Ethiopian origin said they have had to endure racist remarks almost three times more frequently than such remarks were reported by the general population of children surveyed.
Last year, the Education Ministry said there were 35,884 children of Ethiopian origin in the school system, of whom 21,717 were born in Israel. Of the total, 53 percent were studying in state religious schools, as opposed to a national average of 17 percent of all children.
In last year’s English test, eighth graders in the Jewish school system in general scored an average of 76 points in English, as opposed to 59 among children of Ethiopian origin. In Hebrew, the scores were 72 for all students opposed to 59 for Ethiopian-Israelis.
Most of children of Ethiopian origin come from poor families, and the report attempted to check the extent to which socioeconomic background explained the relatively lower achievements of the Ethiopian-Israeli children. In comparing the results of the latter children with poor children of other backgrounds, the gaps narrow slightly, but were still significant. The report concluded: “Gaps in achievement are not only the result of socioeconomic background, and there are additional factors connected to these gaps, for example, in language and culture.”
In scrutinizing the school environment, the report noted that 38 percent of Ethiopian-Israeli children reported being teased about their racial origin, as opposed to 14 percent of all children.
David Maharat, director of the Steering Center for Ethiopian Immigrants in the Education System, said, “Ostensibly investment in the [Ethiopian] community by various official bodies is great. Perhaps it would be better to give the money directly to the members of the community, who would know best what to do with it to change the situation.”
The Education Ministry said in response that last year a five-year program began operating in schools “to focus on advancing scholastic achievements among students of Ethiopian origin.” NIS 20 million was given to the program this year, and the identical amount will be given next year. Another program to help advance the scholastic achievements of Ethiopian-Israeli students and their families has been funded at NIS 200 million, the ministry said.
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3. LA Times,
April 16, 2011
WEST BANK: Palestinian Christians denied access to holy places in Jerusalem during Easter
As Christians get ready to celebrate Easter, Palestinian Christians living in the West Bank and Gaza Strip are envious of fellow Christians from all over the world who are able to visit Jerusalem’s holy Christian sites and worship freely while they cannot.
Since Israel cut off East Jerusalem from the rest of the occupied Palestinian territories in the early 1990s, Palestinian residents of the West Bank and Gaza Strip have been required to get Israeli army permission before they can enter Jerusalem.
The situation worsened since the turn of the century and restrictions got tighter after a 20-foot concrete wall was built all around East Jerusalem barring both Muslim and Christian Palestinians from reaching their holy sites in Jerusalem and its Old City.
“For Christians, Holy Week in Jerusalem has a special spiritual connection,” said a statement issued by the Christian community in the West Bank. “The Old City, its gates and roads, the Mount of Olives, Via Dolorosa and the Holy Sepulchre Church, where pilgrims from all over the world journey to, are equally important to the Palestinian Christians of Gaza and the West Bank, who want to join their Jerusalemite Christian brethren in the liturgical events leading to the resurrection, the holiest celebration in Christianity.”
But West Bank and Gaza Christians reaching Jerusalem even during holidays has become a privilege, rather than a spiritual right. To get to Jerusalem, any Palestinian resident of the West Bank or Gaza of any age or religion has first to get a permit issued by the Israeli military government.
These permits do not come easily. They are usually issued to sick people trying to get treatment in Jerusalem or Israeli hospitals, or to businesspeople. Often they are given to workers because Israel can use the cheap West Bank and Gaza labor force. But for people who want to visit family members living in East Jerusalem or take a tour of the Old City or pray at their holy sites, permits become a scarcity.
“In every country that respects and implements freedom of worship, worshipers of different faiths live their faith and express their prayers without restrictions from the governing authorities,” said the Christians’ statement. “In Jerusalem, and for the past decade, this has not been the case. The occupying power is denying free access to holy places of worship to both Christians and Muslims on several important occasions,” the statement said.
“The local faithful … see that the restrictions made against them are violations of basic human rights and religious freedom as well as a violation of … centuries of religious traditions for the indigenous Christians of this land,” the statement continued.
Though Israel began recently issuing between 2,000 and 3,000 permits for Christians to visit Jerusalem holy sites during Christmas and Easter, the figures remain relatively small compared with the number of Palestinian Christians, and permits are issued only to older married people, not the young and single. Christians also have to apply through their churches to get the permit, a process Christians say is done on a first-come first-served basis.
“The permit system instated by Israel is in obvious violation of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and other international covenants and treaties to which Israel is a signatory,” said the Christian community. “Regardless of the number of people from the local congregation allowed to participate in the celebrations, we reject the imposition of a permit/quota system to access our churches.”
Unfortunately for Palestinian Christians, Easter coincides with the Jewish Passover holiday. Israel usually imposes a closure on the occupied territories during Jewish holidays, which means permits are automatically canceled and people with permits will not be able to cross checkpoints into East Jerusalem, which Israel considers part of its territory since it annexed it after its occupation in June 1967.
— Maher Abukhater in Ramallah, West Bank
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4. The Guardian,
16 April 2011
Vittorio Arrigoni, ‘hero of Palestine’
The murder of a peace activist who fought for Palestinian human rights has left me crying with rage at such cruelty and stupidity
Vittorio Arrigoni in April 2010. Photograph: International Solidarity Movement/handout/EPA
Hearing of the murder of Vittorio Arrigoni, a committed peace activist who for the last 10 years campaigned for recognition of Palestinian human rights under Israeli occupation, has left me shaking and crying with rage at the sheer cruelty and stupidity of those who would carry out such an act. According to news reports, Arrigoni was murdered by the Tawheed and Jihad group, which operates in the Gaza Strip in opposition to the Hamas government.
His kidnap and murder came as a terrible shock to all who knew him. Known to his friends as Vik, as a human rights campaigner he was an unstoppable force.
Even after Israel’s forces deported him from the West Bank he still took part in a direct action, associated with the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), to highlight Israel’s deportation of peace activists, taking a flight to Ben Gurion airport in the hope of being allowed to attend a peace conference in Bethlehem – only to be deported after spending Christmas 2005 in detention.
I first met and interviewed Arrigoni while he was preparing for this action. He described to me how, after some years of suffering depression, he undertook volunteer work in Africa and Eastern Europe. He soon found himself in Palestine as part of ISM and felt that he had to do all he could to help bring about equality and human rights for Palestinians living under occupation and to raise awareness outside Palestine of the difficulties and injustices of their lives.
He was aboard the 2008 Free Gaza Movement vessel and was imprisoned in Israel several times. He was in Gaza throughout “Operation Cast Lead”, helping medics and reporting what was happening. Arrigoni wrote for the Italian newspaper Il Manifesto and for Peace Reporter and in 2010 he wrote Gaza Stay Human, a book based on what he witnessed and survived during Operation Cast Lead.
Khaleel Shaheen of the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights in Gaza, a friend of Arrigoni, says: “What has happened is a black day in Palestinian history. The horrific murder of our friend Vittorio is totally condemned. We ask the local authorities to bring the criminals to justice as soon as possible. He is in our minds always. He is a hero of Palestine.”
Arrigoni’s brutal murder comes after the murder of a settler family and the shooting of theatre director Juliano Mer-Khamis last week. Writing as someone who has spent a great deal of time in the West Bank over the years, these events seem alien to the Palestinian culture of resistance I have come to know and respect. Such actions smack of some kind of dirty war, based on motives that have little to do with the ongoing struggle for Palestinian self-determination.
On Friday Arrigoni’s friends gathered at the Italian embassy in London with candles and flowers. Demonstrations also took place following the Friday prayer across from the UN headquarters in Gaza. The villages of Bil’in and Al Masara dedicated their weekly Friday demonstrations to Arrigoni; and there were gatherings in Al Manara square in Ramallah and at Al Jundi al Majhull in Gaza City. A mourning tent will open at the fisherman’s port Al Mina and in Nablus, in the north of the West Bank, political parties have called for an event in the city centre, condemning Arrigoni’s killing and celebrating his work.
Vik took and withstood much violence but stayed so human and loving until the end – dear Vittorio Arrigoni, you are deeply missed.
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Body of kidnapped Italian peace activist Vittorio Arrigoni found in Gaza
Two men arrested after security officials say they found body in abandoned house
Vittorio Arrigoni: pacifist supporter of the Palestinian cause
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5. The Independent,
16 April 2011
Leading article: A killing in Gaza that also carries a warning to Israel
The kidnapping and killing of Vittorio Arrigoni in Gaza is exactly what the Italian foreign ministry statement said it was: “An act of vile and senseless violence.”
Arrigoni was no novice; he had lived in Gaza for several years, working for the International Solidarity Movement, a group committed to non-violent resistance against Israel’s occupation of Palestinian land. There was no reason for Palestinians to treat him as anything other than the sincerest of friends.
This is not the only inexplicable element in his fate. His captors appear to have been members of the Salafist movement, a group that regards Hamas as unduly moderate. Their declared purpose was to secure the release of their leader, who was detained by the Hamas authorities last month. But Arrigoni died several hours before the expiry of the deadline they had imposed, suggesting either that something went wrong from the start or that they quickly abandoned hope of attaining their objective.
The killing prompted grief in Gaza, but also despair. Not only was Arrigoni well known and well liked there, but it escaped no one that this kidnapping was the first since that of the BBC journalist Alan Johnson in 2007. The intervening four years – crudely interrupted by Operation Cast Lead, Israel’s 2008 reinvasion of the territory – had seen Hamas gradually more able to impose order. Missile attacks on Israel had declined and kidnappings of foreigners had ceased. It must be feared that the death of Arrigoni signals a change. With missile attacks on Israel from Gaza also increasing in recent weeks, the relative calm is at risk of breaking down. Lawlessness, never far from the surface in Gaza, could be on its way back, with implications for the territory, for the Palestinian cause, for Israel, and for the, currently moribund, prospects of peace in the Middle East.
Two factors can be identified as fostering current tensions – one that can be addressed; the other harder to tame. The first is the continuing Israeli blockade, which has helped to create and now exacerbates tensions in Gaza. Loosening the blockade is the only way that the pressure inside the densely populated territory can be relieved. Allowing in more goods, including especially medical supplies and building materials, would bring a rapid improvement of conditions inside Gaza, with hospitals better able to function, more productive work, and an acceleration of reconstruction. It is unfortunate that Israel’s automatic response to renewed violence in Gaza is to tighten the blockade, without apparently understanding that this invariably serves only to reinforce the malign trends.
The other factor is the spread of unrest across the wider region. With Egypt still in ferment, protests in Syria showing no sign of abating and a new Jordanian government only just holding the line, Gaza inhabits a deeply troubled neighbourhood. What is more, it shares many of those countries’ most problematical features: a very young population, an acute lack of employment, and serious obstacles to political engagement. With so much turmoil gathering around, the very last thing Israel needs is chaos in Gaza. But it needs to recognise that it holds the keys to making that less likely in its own hands. Self-interest, as well as the benefit to Gaza, dictates that it should relax the blockade.
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6. Washington Post,
April 15, 2011
Flow of African migrants poses dilemma for Israel
Samuel Sockol/ African migrant street vendors peddling used clothes in south Tel Aviv
Daoud Ibrahim, newly arrived from the war-torn Darfur region of Sudan, sleeps for now on a piece of cardboard in a city park in a gritty section of south Tel Aviv. When it rains, he said, he and others take shelter in the central bus station nearby.
He is one of tens of thousands of African migrants, mostly from Eritrea and Sudan, who have sneaked across the border into Israel from Egypt’s Sinai desert in recent years, seeking asylum, jobs and a better life.
Their presence has created an acute dilemma for Israel, a state founded as a haven for Jewish refugees that now finds itself coping with an influx of foreigners that Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu has warned could threaten the nation’s Jewish character.
Having escaped deadly attacks by government-backed militias in Darfur, after a long trek through the Sinai and a perilous border crossing that risked gunfire from Egyptian border guards, Ibrahim, 34, said his goals are simple.
“I want to get a job, go to school and grow in the future,” he said, smiling. “This is the beginning.”
There are nearly 34,000 African migrants in Israel, according to the most recent official statistics. Many are concentrated in Tel Aviv, where they live in cramped apartments or shelters in poor neighborhoods where there is resentment against the newcomers’ presence.
At a demonstration in south Tel Aviv last week, protesters marched by African street vendors selling used clothes and shoes, calling for the migrants’ expulsion. “Return them now,” signs carried by the demonstrators said. “If we keep silent we will become strangers in our own neighborhoods.”
The controversy over the African migrants, who have changed the face of some areas of south Tel Aviv, touches on core questions of Israel’s self-definition as both a Jewish and democratic state. A nation of immigrants created as a shelter for Jews after the Holocaust and an active participant in drafting the postwar U.N. convention on refugees, it is now pondering ways to stem a flow of people who say they are fleeing persecution in their own countries.
Harrowing journeys
In a surge that began in 2007, hundreds of migrants have been sneaking across the border from Egypt each month, some after harrowing journeys in which Bedouin smugglers in Sinai have imprisoned them for lengthy periods and subjected them to torture and rape to extort high ransom payments from their families.
After crossing the border, the migrants are taken by the army and held in a detention center in southern Israel for several weeks before being put on buses to Tel Aviv, where they are left to fend for themselves.
Israel has granted special status to those arriving from Eritrea, Sudan and more recently from Ivory Coast, who are protected from deportation because of threats in their home countries. But they have no work permits and are not covered by state health and social services. Still, the authorities have not taken action against employers who collect the migrants from street corners for menial day jobs, such as cleaning work, dishwashing in restaurants or construction.
This past November, the government approved plans to build a large holding center for illegal migrants to prevent them from working and reduce the economic incentive for others to come. “This growing wave threatens Israelis’ jobs, is changing the character of the country and we must stop it,” Netanyahu said at the cabinet meeting.
Work has also begun on a fence along the Egyptian border to block further arrivals. In some cases, Israeli soldiers have sent Africans who crossed the frontier back to Egypt.
The government and Israeli groups helping the newcomers disagree over their motives. The government says the overwhelming majority are work migrants seeking jobs. The aid groups say many are asylum seekers, and they have urged the government to move promptly to determine which should be granted refugee status. Meanwhile, the migrants remain in limbo as the controversy about their presence has intensified.
Religious edict
Along with the demonstrations in south Tel Aviv calling for the expulsion of the Africans, a group of rabbis in the area issued a religious edict several months ago against renting them apartments, warning against intermarriage and claiming that the newcomers have brought a rise in violent crime.
In several interviews, residents recited a litany of complaints against the migrants, accusing them of alcoholism, drug use and carrying diseases, as well as involvement in muggings, break-ins, harassment of women and even rape and murder. Yet police statistics show that the crime rate among the Africans is significantly lower than among the general population.
Yohannes Bayu, executive director of the African Refugee Development Center, said that statements by government officials warning against the flow of migrants have fueled hostility toward the newcomers, leading to increased incidents of assaults on the streets. He showed a list of recent reports from migrants who said they had been beaten or verbally abused in several incidents last month in the Tel Aviv area.
Bayu, a migrant from Ethiopia who is one of the few who have received refugee status, said that Israel, whose absorption of Jewish immigrants has served as a model for countries around the world, “has to extend its hand to this population, too.”
But Binyamin Babayof, a city councilman from south Tel Aviv, said that his economically depressed constituency should not be burdened with housing the impoverished migrants. “It’s not fair to saddle them with this,” he said, noting that he had led efforts to pressure local landlords not to rent apartments to the Africans.
“We have to preserve the Jewish majority in Israel,” added Babayof, who has been active in welcoming Ethiopian Jewish immigrants to his area. “We have no other Jewish state.”
Orit Marom, who works for ASSAF, a local aid organization for refugees, said that it was precisely Israel’s Jewish character that should move it to welcome the migrants.
“What makes me Jewish are values of ethics and justice,” she said. “We know what it’s like to be refugees. As a Jewish state, we have to grant them asylum.”
greenbergj@washpost.com
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7. Al Jazeera,
April 16, 2011
Israel bias Cantor-productive in Washington
House majority leader Eric Cantor works with Israeli prime minister Netanyahu to undermine Obama’s Mideast policies.
Pro-Israel lobby groups, working with House majority leader Eric Cantor and prime minister Benyamin Netanyahu, are hoping to undermine Obama’s impending speech on America’s Mideast policy [GALLO/GETTY]
Leave it to House majority leader Eric Cantor (R-VA). With president Barack Obama expected to deliver a major speech outlining a new (or, at least, revised) Middle East peace strategy soon, Cantor decided it as time to invite Israeli prime minister Binyamin Netanyahu to deliver a speech before a joint session of Congress.
This is one of the benefits of having a Republican House at the same time that a Likud prime minister is in office in Israel: the two right-wing parties can work together to thwart any Democratic president’s attempt to advance US national security by brokering Middle East peace.
The last time this happened was in the 1990s, when Bill Clinton was president. Newt Gingrich was speaker, and the self-same Netanyahu was Israel’s prime minister.
Undermining the president
Netanyahu, joyously anticipating Clinton’s defeat for a second term, worked with the Republicans to subvert Clinton. Douglas Bloomfield, AIPAC’s long-time legislative director, recalled :
No Israeli leader was as adept at playing partisan American politics, nor as disruptive as the American-educated Netanyahu: he understood the politics of divided government. Even before becoming prime minister, he joined forces with Gingrich against common enemies: then-president Bill Clinton, Rabin and the Oslo peace process. Their goal was to make sure all three failed.
Gingrich was happy to play this game with Netanyahu, but he is more than matched by Cantor, who is not only a pro-Likud zealot but has also publicly admitted that he would use his position to help Netanyahu withstand any pressure from his own president.
Back in November, just after the Republicans won majority control of the House, Cantor made clear that, in any arguments between Obama and Netanyahu, he would be there for the prime minister.
In a statement issued by his office following a meeting with Netanyahu, Cantor made his position clear:
Eric stressed that the new Republican majority will serve as a check up on the administration and what has been, up until this point, a one party rule in Washington.
Reporting on the Cantor statement, Jewish Telegraphic Agency (JTA) correspondent Ron Kampeas wrote, “I can’t remember an opposition leader telling a foreign leader, in a personal meeting, that he would side, as a policy, with that leader against the president.”
So it is not surprising that, according to Haaretz, the Republicans have invited Netanyahu to the Capitol to “counter a speech expected to deal with US Mideast policy by president Barack Obama.”
Not surprising, but utterly unseemly. And there is nothing “pro-Israel” about it.
The geopolitics have changed
Israel today is in the worst geostrategic position it has been in for decades. The collapse of the Mubarak government has put the Israeli-Egyptian peace treaty (which has saved countless lives) in jeopardy.
The Assad regime in Syria – no friend of Israel, but a reliable enforcer of de facto peace on the border – is under popular assault and is unlikely to survive for long.
Lebanon is now run by Hezbollah. The Jordanian regime is shaky, like most of the monarchies in the region.
And Turkey, Israel’s one powerful Muslim ally, a strong friend of Israel since its birth, is so disgusted by Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians that it is distancing itself as fast as it can.
And then there’s Iran.
That is the status quo, and it certainly doesn’t favour Israel. In fact, it is so bad that if anyone had predicted it a few years ago, even a few months ago, he would have been dismissed as utterly out of touch.
But that’s the reality. Nonetheless, Binyamin Netanyahu makes no attempt to alter the situation by pursuing an agreement with the Palestinians.
Rather, he works with all his might to preserve a status quo which, although terrible for his country, keeps him in power.
After all, as his apologists are quick to say, freezing settlements to advance negotiations would weaken his coalition, and he can’t allow that to happen.
This is not to say that achieving a negotiated agreement with the Palestinians would eliminate all of Israel’s problems – problems which threaten its very survival.
But it would eliminate most of them, simply because, as the late Yitzhak Rabin pointed out, it would eliminate Israel’s enemies’ pretext for war.
Once an agreement is reached (one that provides for a viable Palestinian state alongside a secure Israel) no wars can be launched on the Palestinians’ behalf. Even Iran and Hezbollah would be neutralised by peace as they cannot be by war.
Is it possible that those, like Cantor, who would thwart US efforts to achieve peace, don’t know this? Yes, it is. Ideologues – and Cantor is a Likud ideologue – are often blind to facts that are obvious to others.
As for the lobby and its congressional acolytes, including Cantor, of course, they benefit from the status quo. An ugly status quo may be terrible for Israel and the Palestinians, but it is a great tool for fundraising.
For example, a few weeks ago, AIPAC responded to a terror attack by immediately sending out an e-mailurging those outraged by the killing to send money to AIPAC.
Netanyahu will almost certainly say nothing worthwhile in his speech to Congress, but the photo ops with the prime minister of Israel will show up in dozens of congressional fundraising appeals.
It’s just politics. It’s a game, and – as with most issues these days – it’s mostly about money.
Recognising the new status quo
No wonder Obama seems so reluctant to get involved. Any effort he makes will, by definition, be designed to change the status quo and therefore, will make those who benefit from the present impasse unhappy.
Nonetheless, the president should lay a plan on the table. It is true that, until now, Netanyahu and his cheering section here have treated Obama’s ideas with contempt. But the fact is, whether Eric Cantor understands it or not, the objective situation has changed.
Israel’s regional situation is worse than ever. And, unless there is serious progress toward peace between now and September, Palestinians will declare a state composed of the West Bank, Gaza and East Jerusalem that will be recognisd by virtually the entire world.
No matter whether the declaration actually creates a Palestinian state or not, a declaration would seriously undermine Israel’s standing.
Defence minister Ehud Barak’s views summarises it well:
We stand to face a diplomatic tsunami that the majority of the public is unaware of. Israel’s delegitimisation is in sight.
That is why Netanyahu desperately wants to prevent a September declaration. And it’s why he expects and needs the United States to stop it from happening.
That is something Obama can do, but not by simply shouting “no”.
Obama needs to tell Netanyahu that the only way to avoid a unilateral solution is by brokering a bilateral one. Running to Eric Cantor won’t change a thing.
MJ Rosenberg is a Senior Foreign Policy Fellow at Media Matters Action Network.
The above article first appeared in Foreign Policy Matters, a part of the Media Matters Action Network.
