Mostrando postagens com marcador Druze. Mostrar todas as postagens
Mostrando postagens com marcador Druze. Mostrar todas as postagens

terça-feira, 9 de agosto de 2011

J14 MAY CHALLENGE SOMETHING EVEN DEEPER THAN THE OCCUPATION

7 August 2011, + 972 http://972mag.com (Israel)

Dimi Reider*

The social justice demonstrations have been accused of ignoring the key issue of the occupation. But their tremendous groundswell of solidarity and cooperation is slowly gnawing at something even more significant than that – the principle of separation, of which the occupation is just one exercise.
Placard citing the Tahrir slogan of "Go!" and reading "Egypt is Here" at the J14 rally. Photo: Oren Ziv, Activestills.org

One of the most impressive aspects of the J14 movement is how quickly it is snowballing, drawing more and more groups and communities into a torrent of discontent. Pouring out into the streets is everything that Israelis, of all national identities, creeds and most classes complained about for years: The climbing rents, the rising prices on fuel, the parenting costs, the free-fall in the quality of public education, the overworked, unsustainable healthcare system, the complete and utter detachment of most politicians, on most levels, from most of the nation.

All this has been obfuscated for decades by the conflict, by a perpetual state of emergency; one of the benefits from leaving the occupation outside the protests, for now, was to neutralise the entire discourse of militarist fear-mongering. Contrary to what Dahlia and Joseph wrote last week, the government so far utterly failed to convince the people military needs must come before social justice; Iran has largely vanished from the news pages, and attempts to scare Israelis with references to a possible escalation with Lebanon or the Palestinian are relegated to third, fourth and fifth places in the headlines, with the texts often written in a sarcastic tone rarely employed in Israeli media on “serious” military matters.

Over the past week, though, the Palestinians themselves have begun gaining presence in the protests; not as an external threat or exclusively as monolithic victims of a monolithic Israel, but as a part and parcel of the protest movement, with their demands to rectify injustices unique to the Palestinians organically integrating with demands made by the protests on behalf of all Israelis.

First, a tent titled “1948″ was pitched on Rothschild boulevard, housing Palestinian and Jewish activists determined to discuss Palestinian collective rights and Palestinian grievances as a legitimate part of the protests. They activists tell me the arguments are exhaustive, wild and sometimes downright strange; but unlike the ultra-right activists who tried pitching a tent calling for a Jewish Tel Aviv and hoisting homophobic signs, the 1948 tenters were not pushed out, and are fast becoming part of the fabric of this “apolitical” protest.

A few days after the 1948 tent was pitched, the council of the protests – democratically elected delegates from 40 protest camps across the country – published their list of demands, including, startlingly, two of the key social justice issues unique to the Palestinians within Israel: Sweeping recognition of unrecognised Bedouin villages in the Negev; and expanding the municipal borders of Palestinian towns and villages to allow for natural development. The demands chimed in perfectly with the initial drive of the protest – lack of affordable housing.

The demands chimed in perfectly with the initial drive of the protest – lack of affordable housing. Neither issue has ever been included in the list of demands of a national, non-sectarian movement capable of bringing 300,000 people out into the streets.

And, finally, on Wednesday, residents of the Jewish poverty-stricken neighbourhood of Hatikva, many of them dyed-in-the-wool Likud activists, signed a covenant of cooperation with the Palestinian and Jewish Jaffa protesters, many of them activists with Jewish-Palestinian Hadash and nationalist-Palestinian Balad. They agreed they had more in common with each other than with the middle class national leadership of the protest, and that while not wishing to break apart from the J14 movement, they thought their unique demands would be better heard if they act together. At the rally, they marched together, arguing bitterly at times but sticking to each other, eventually even chanting mixed Hebrew and Arabic renditions of slogans from Tahrir.

Yesteday’s mega-rally was also where Palestinian partnership in the protests came to a head, when writer Odeh Bisharat spoke to nearly 300,000 people – overwhelmingly, centrist Israelis Jews – of the grievances of Palestinians in Israel and was met with raucous applause. I’ll return to that moment a little further below, but before that, perhaps I should explain why I think the participation of Palestinian citizens of Israel in the protests has more bearing on the conflict than any concentrated attempt to rally the crowds against the occupation.

On the most practical level, if the protesters had begun by blaming all of Israel’s social and political woes on the occupation, none of the breathtaking events of the past three weeks would have happened. They would have been written off as Israel-hating lefties and cast aside, just like every attempt to get mainstream Israelis to care for Palestinians before caring for themselves was cast aside for at least the past decade.

Altruist causes can rarely raise people to a sustained and genuine popular struggle against their own governments, and attempts to rally Israelis to the Palestinian cause for selfish reasons – i.e. for our own soldiers’ sake or because of the demographic time bomb – smacked of hypocrisy and ethnic nationalism; hypocrisy is a poor magnet for popular support, while ethnic nationalism is the natural instrument of the Right, not of the Left, which wields it awkwardly and usually to its own detriment.

It should be admitted, 11 years after the second Intifada, 18 years after the beginning of the peace process, that the Israeli left has utterly and abjectly failed to seriously enthuse Israelis in the project of ending the occupation. There was never a choice between a social struggle focused on the occupation and a social struggle temporarily putting the conflict aside, because the first attempt would have flopped . There was nothing to be gained by trying the same thing again for the Nth time. There have been many important victories in battles, but on the whole, the two-state left (as opposed to the two-state right) has lost the war.

The Occupation is just part of a bigger problem
But these were the tactical considerations valid only for the beginning of the protests. Social injustice does not exist in a vacuum, most certainly not in a conflict zone – and the problem in Israel-Palestine is much wider and deeper than the occupation. The occupation may be the most acute and violent injustice going on, and, like Aziz and I wrote in our New York Times op-ed last week, it’s certainly the greatest single obstacle to social justice on either side of the Green Line. But it’s still only one expression of an organising principle that has governed all of Israel-Palestine for at least the past sixty years: Separation.

Israel-Palestine today is, for all intents and purposes, a single political entity, with a single de-facto sovereign – the government in Jerusalem, but the populations this government controls, are divided into several levels of privilege. The broad outlines of the hierarchy are well-known – at the bottom are Palestinians of ‘67, who can’t even vote for the regime that governs most areas of their lives and are subject to military and bureaucratic violence on a day to day basis; Palestinians of ‘48, who can vote but are strongly and consistently discriminated and lack collective rights (which is a Jewish privilege); and finally the Israeli Jews.

But separation runs deeper than that: It employs and amplifies cultural and economic privilege to fracture each broad group into sub-groups, separating Druze from Bedouins from Palestinians, Ramallah residents from residents of Hebron, city residents from villagers, established residents from refugees; and within Jewish society, Mizrachis from Ashkenazis, settlers from green-line residents of Israel, ultra-Orthodox from secular, Russians from native-born Israelis, Ethiopians from everyone else, and so on.

The separation system is so chaotic even its privileges are far from self evident: ultra-Orthodox and settlers are seen as the communities most benefiting from the status quo, but it is important to remember the actual socio-economic standing of both is rather weak, and many in both are not only beneficiaries, but also hostages – the ultra-Orthodox to sectorial parties, the settlers to the occupation. And the occupation itself is just an instrument of separation: Its long term purpose is to acquire maximum land with a minimum of Palestinian on it, but for the past 40 years it mainly ensured half the population under the control of a certain government would have no recourse or representation with that government on any level.

And while the issue of the occupation remains to be engaged with directly in the #j14 movement, the very dynamic of the protests is already gnawing at the foundation on which the occupation rests – the separation axiom. Haggai Matar is a veteran anti-occupation activist, with a prison term for conscientious objection to serve in the IDF and countless West Bank protests under his belt. There are few people in Israel more committed to ending the occupation than him. And yet this is how he writes of yesterday’s rally:

Odeh Bisharat, the first Arab to address the mass rallies, greeted the enormous audience before him and reminded them that the struggle for social justice has always been the struggle of the Arab community, which has suffered from inequality, discrimination, state-level racism and house demolitions in Ramle, Lod, Jaffa and Al-Araqib. Not only was this met with ovation from a huge crowd of well over a hundred thousand people, but the masses actually chanted: “Jews and Arabs refuse to be enemies.” And later, in a short clip of interviews from protest camps across the country, Jews and Arabs spoke, and a number of them, including even one religious Jew, repeatedly said that “it’s time for this state to be a state for all its citizens.” A state for all its citizens. As a broad, popular demand. Who would have believed it.

It would be seriously far-fetched to assume the protesters are deliberately trying to pull down the entire meshwork of rifts and boundaries. But one of the many unexpected consequences of this movement – indeed, the movement itself is an avalanche of completely unexpected consequences – is that these boundaries are beginning to blur and to seem less relevant than what brings people together. We have failed to end the occupation by confronting it head on, but the boundary-breaking, de-segregating movement could, conceivably, undermine it.

Like Noam wrote earlier today, it’s still too soon to tell where the movement will eventually go, and “it can even bring Israel further to the right; it certainly won’t be the first time in history in which social unrest led to the rise of rightwing demagogue – but right now, it is creating a space for a new conversation. Limited as this space may be, it’s so much more than we had just a month ago.” The slow erosion of separation lines means there are also possibilities opening up for new conversation about the Jewish-Palestinian divide – including the occupation.

*Dmitry (Dimi) Reider is a journalist and photographer working from Israel and the Palestinian territories. His work had appeared in the New York Times,The Guardian, Foreign Policy, Haaretz, Jerusalem Post, and Index on Censorship, etc.

terça-feira, 21 de junho de 2011

Counting the cost of patriotism on the Golan Heights

The Other Occupation
Getting to know the Golan


14 June 2011, Jews for Justice for Palestinians http://jfjfp.com (UK)

Israel’s killing of dozens of pro-Palestinian demonstrators at the fence surrounding Majdal Shams has again catapulted the 19,000Druze and 2,000 Muslim Arabs of the Golan Heights to popular attention. Despite being as numerous as Israeli settlers, they lack equal rights and access to resources, as Arthur Neslen discovered in this feature, which was spiked by Jane’s Islamic Affairs Analyst.


Salman Fakhr al-Din winced as he pointed up at Mount Hermon. “When I was a child, I tried to climb the mountain so that I could touch the sky,” he said, “but now it is filled with mines and soldiers and if you tried you could be killed. This mountain used to be part of our lives but it has become something strange and terrible.” He still lives in its shadow, in the Druze heartland ofMajdal Shams.

Forty years after the war that slid the Golan peninsula into Israel’s hands, the territory under Salman’s feet had changed drastically. Since 1967, mines had killed 42 people and injured more than 80 in the Golan. Forty percent of the victims were children.

No figures exist for the exact locations, number or types of mines planted in the Golan, but they stretch over several kilometres. Reports by landmines NGOs note a lack of warnings and fencing around many minefields. Often they are situated near schools and houses. Residents complain that every year some are washed into their gardens and streets by rain and soil erosion.

Saleh Barah had never had any mines awareness lessons at school when, aged 13, he went to play in a yard beside his local restaurant. “I was with my friend when we saw something that looked like a brown cola bottle,” Saleh said. “I asked ‘What’s that?’ and he started to open it so I shouted ‘Give it to me!’ He threw it over and I caught it and tried to open it. A few seconds later, everything went black”.

When Saleh awoke in a Haifa hospital 20 days later, he had lost a leg, an arm beneath the elbow, and one eye. The authorities offered him no financial compensation, he said. Now 38, and a respected agricultural businessman in Majdal Shams, Saleh blamed the occupation for the mines which still littered nearby roads. “Our lives are not important to the Israelis,” he told me. “It’s the same as what happened in Lebanon.”

In a bid to raise awareness about landmines issue, Saleh refuses to wear prosthetic limbs. “I want others to know me as I am,” he said. “Also, this way when people see me, they ask ‘What happened to him?’ and they start to learn.”

But even knowledge of the risks does not outweigh the economic necessities of life. In June 2001, a 73-year-old shepherd from the village of Buq’ata was killed by a mine near Ain Al-Hamra. One of his sons had died in a mine accident there 14 years before.

Syrian Golanis complain that the authorities turn a blind eye to such phenomena because it depresses their economic development and so helps Israel’s demographic battle. After the 2006 Lebanon War, settler leaders launched a slick $250,000 advertising campaign to double the Jewish population on the Golan within a decade.

The fertile volcanic fields and valleys of the Golan provide much of Israel’s fruit and wine industry but economic competition between the two communities is intense. While Syrian Golanis are said to provide around 30 percent of Israel’s apple crop, for instance, Israeli-Jewish moshavs and kibbutzim are thought to account for 40 percent.

Shahadi Nasrallah, a local agronomist blamed unequal distribution of water resources for the differential. “One dunam (1000 sq metres) of apple trees needs about 700 cubic metres of water a season to grow” he said, “but (the Israeli water company) Mekorot only allows Arab farmers about 200 cubic metres at best, while the Jewish farmers get as much as they need. If you don’t have enough water, your apple crop will be of a lower quality, and you will probably have to harvest it before it is ripe.”

On the macro-political level, Israel’s continued presence in the Golan is intimately tied to control of the region’s water resources. The Sea of Galilee, where Christians believe that Jesus fed the masses with fish and loaves, today accounts for around a third of Israel’s drinking water. Syria controlled its north eastern shore until 1967, but today exclusive access to the freshwater source is viewed as a national security issue in Tel Aviv.

Even the use of smaller local water resources, such as Lake Ram, has proved contentious. “It has seven million cubic metres of water – which Mekorot collects – but they sell four million to the Jews and only three million to us,” Shahadi said. “We are not allowed to pump from it even though it is between our fields and we used the water all the time before 1967.” By contrast, Shahadi’s organisation, Golan for Development claimed that settlers had water from the lake pumped directly into their fields, and paid three times less for it.

Folklore in Israel has it that Syrian Golanis silently benefit from Israeli governance, but Samer Safadi disagrees. A teacher sacked for ‘security reasons’ after marrying an anti-occupation activist, Samer complained of discriminatory allocation of teaching resources, kindergartens, electricity and even garbage disposal.

“We do have more work here,” she admitted, “and politically we have greater freedom because Syria is undemocratic and a one party state. But we are absolutely ready to sacrifice these benefits to return the Golan to Syria. You cannot weigh patriotism against economics. It is the highest value a person can have.”

Such sentiments are common on the streets of Majdal Shams but a less strident tone is increasingly heard among the plateaux’s middle class. According to Shahadi Nasrallah, times changed after the Soviet Union fell. “The world became less ideological,” he said, “and people became more open to Americanisation, to visitors with coloured hair coming here, to Madonna. They started to put themselves first and instead of struggling they earned money, built houses and bought cars.”

Some believe that Israel only allowed five Druze towns to remain in the Golan in 1967 – after destroying over 100 villages and expelling more than 100,000 Arabs – because of a perceived strain of cultural pragmatism. Popular prejudices have, perhaps unfairly, held that Israel exploited this alleged quality among its own Druze population in the years after 1948.

However, pragmatism can cut both ways. Sitting in his comfortable apartment, Shahadi noted wryly: “I have calculated it many times from an economic point of view, and we would be better off in Syria. The prices there are lower and with the same fields we could live better.”

Many local people believe that demilitarisation and a change of sovereignty over the Golan’s settlements, tourist sites, farms and vineyards would create an economic powerhouse for Syria.

It would also address the most emotive issue for the Arabs of the Golan: family reunification. Women, children, and non-religious men in the Heights are forbidden to visit relatives in Syria and those who do are barred from returning.

In a scenario popularised by Eran Riklis’ 2004 film The Syrian Bride, Chazme Rosaini’s daughter Nadia has not been allowed to return to Majdal Shams since she travelled to Damascus in 1983 following her marriage to a Syrian cousin.

Chazme, a great grandmother with bright blue eyes that peep out from behind a traditional Druze head-covering, spoke with pathos about the separation. “Back in ’83, the occupation seemed so temporary and Nadia really thought it would end soon,” she said. “We had a family wedding party here and it snowed heavily the next day. We heard them walk out across the snow on their way to Quneitra and from there, the Red Cross bussed them to Damascus. Since then, we have only met twice in Jordan.”

Until the mid-1990s, even telephone calls to Syria were banned and Chazme and her daughter had to communicate by megaphone at the infamous Majdal Shams ‘shouting fence’, where families and friends once regularly gathered to bellow messages at each other. One local legend has it that some women had heart attacks while trying to make themselves understood to relatives across the wide expanse of no man’s land.

“It was messy and oppressive,” Chazme said. “But this is the ‘Nakba’ [catastrophe] of war, its misery and strangeness – to be separated from your own flesh and blood, unable to touch, see or talk to them for days on end.”

Links between the Palestinians of the West Bank and the Syrians of the Golan are strong. ‘Samir’, an activist who was imprisoned for several years after becoming involved in a Syrian information gathering cell, said he had since taken part in solidarity actions on the West Bank.

“We have a connection to the Palestinian struggle and we support them with whatever materials we can,” he told me. “We had our own Intifada in 1982 when Israel annexed the Golan Heights and tried to force us to become Israeli citizens. But this is not the West Bank and we don’t have the demography to sustain an Intifada every day. Still we will struggle until the Golan is liberated.”

In the mid-1980s, a small minority of activists in the Golan Heights turned to acts of violent resistance. Samir was not one of them and he remained optimistic that the Golan would be returned peacefully to Syria in the next decade. “It is a question of when, not if” he repeated in answer to many questions.

But with two thirds of Israelis telling pollsters they want to hang on to the Heights, and four decades of accumulated grievance bubbling like lava beneath the rocks, the future remains uncertain. When asked what might happen if hope for a peaceful solution faded, Samir frowned and looked up at the mountain. “In this case,” he said gently, “maybe people will take this other way to struggle.”