We should no more feel sympathy for dead Jewish settlers than we would have done for German settlers in the Warthegau
Today Amos Oz, novelist and doyen of the
Zionist left died aged 79. Israeli newspapers, regardless of political affiliation,
are full of sorrow and eulogies.
The President of Israel, Reuven Rivlin said that the news of Oz’s death “bring us sadness”
calling him “a literary giant.”
Culture Minster Miri Regev, who was accused
of fascism by fellow Minister, Gila Gamliel, and who has apologised for likening African
migrants in Israel to human
beings and who called asylum seekers ‘cancer’ before apologising because of the offence it might
cause to cancer patients, by comparing them to refugees, said of Oz that “your works, which you’ve left in our hearts,
will resonate all over the world.”
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| Gideon Levy is Israel's true hero |
All the world’s media agreed
with the New York
Times in describing Oz as a ‘peace
advocate’. However it is untrue. Oz was a left-Zionist supporter of
Apartheid. His support for a 2 State
Solution was based firmly on the idea that Arabs and Jews could not live
together in one state. He was an
advocate of segregation. It was because he knew that Netanyahu’s plans for a
one state Greater Israel, in which the majority of Palestinians would have no
rights, would result in Israel being labelled an apartheid state, that he supported
two states. It was for this that he was seen
as a peace advocate. Oz realised that tarnishing Israel with the Apartheid
label would spell its eventual demise.
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| Not once has David Friedman tweeted about the 'vile' shooting of Palestinian demonstrators or indeed any Palestinians - only settler lives concern this vile racist |
It is not Oz, who never once
queried or questioned what a Jewish state meant for those who were not Jewish
who merits this praise. Oz never lifted a finger against Israeli racism or
settler colonialism. He preached
segregation and separation. It is Gideon Levy and Amira Hass and the activists
in groups like Youth Against the Settlements who deserve our support. Amos Oz was self-indulgent, hedonistic,
sexist and racist, not least towards Mizrahi Israeli Jews. Oz’s light only
shone because of the darkness into which Israel has sunk.
What is certain is that Oz
could not have written a searing criticism such as Gideon Levy’s below in which
he states outright that he does not have any sympathy with dead Jewish settlers
in the West Bank. Nor should we.
When Nazi Germany captured Poland Himmler immediately set about a project of settling the Gau of Wartheland with German settlers and evicting the Polish peasants and Jews. With Nazi Germany's defeat these settlers were evicted. I'm not aware that there is a great deal of sympathy for what became of them.
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| Site of shooting of settler near settlement of Ofra |
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| Razan al-Najjar - 21 year old medic gunned down by Israeli snipers while tending the wounded - there is no backstory in Israel to this young girl - she has no siblings, parents and nor are there any tears |
It is noticeable that when Palestinians die
under Israeli bullets, there are no pen portraits of who they are, their
children and life. as happens when an Israeli settler is killed. When Razan al-Najar was struck down in a hail of bullets there were no eulogies to this 21 year old
para medic living in Gaza, who had been murdered whilst tending injured demonstrators. Israeli Ministers and the President had nothing to
say about a young life cruelly taken away.
She had no family as far as the Zionists were concerned. Gaza is Hamas and therefore every barbarity
is justified.
In the thousands of words of
eulogy and in the many obituaries, it is doubtful whether there will many
criticisms of Oz. Israeli academic Gabriel Piterberg captured Oz best when he
called him a ‘mobilized propagandist’
[The
Returns of Zionism, p.232 et. seq]. He became one of the chief editors of Siah lohamim (soldier’s talk) which was
a recording of the recollections and experiences of 140 Kibbutz officers of the
1967 War of Expansion. It was ‘one of the most effective propaganda tools
in Israeli history.’ It created
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| Mourning a baby |
‘the image of the handsome,
dilemma-ridden and existentially soul-searching Israeli soldier, the horrific
oxymoron of ‘the purity of arms’ and the unfounded notion of an exalted Jewish morality.’
The text’s editors, Oz and
Avraham Shapira, of Kibbutz Jezreel, did two things: one was the omission of
entire conversations as if they had not occurred at all; the other was the
manipulation of and tampering with statements and conversations that were
included.
Conversations with the Sarig
family in Kibbutz Beit Hashita were omitted altogether. Beit Hashita belonged
to the Kibbutz Hameuchad federation, which was an important part of the Greater Israel movement (Gush Emmunim) that was founded in 1969. Nahum Sarig was
a commander of the Negev Brigade which fought in 1948. His son Ran fought in 1967. Ran Sarig
explained that:
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| Amos Oz balanced his criticism of Netanyahu with criticism of those who blamed Israel - it was also the fault of the Palestinians |
The greatest thing... was
that we were going to make the country complete... This feeling I had was...
of, as it were, the completion of father’s deeds 20 years ago. At that time
there was constant talk about the injustice [sic] – what Ben Gurion called ‘a
lasting regret’ [i.e. halting at what became the 1949 Armistice borders rather
than conquering the whole of western Palestine]. I felt regarding this matter,
that we were completing the assignment that actually should have been
accomplished then [in 1948].’
Shapira admitted 30 years later that
he had decided to omit the exchange because of his shock at ‘the manifestation of messianism’. Since Shapira published it in his journal
Shdemot it would seem that the real
reason was to preserve the ‘shooting and
crying’ image of the Israeli soldier and the propaganda value of the
collection. Piterberg notes that:
‘What is
striking here is the extent to which the national religious settlement movement
perceived itself as continuing the trail blazed by the labour settlement
movement.
One
editorial method was to distort direct descriptions of events. E.g.
‘What perhaps added to this terrible feeling was my impression of the enormous gaiety of the soldiers who [were
lying in ambush and who] as it happened killed this fallah [peasant
in Arabic]
The words
in bold were omitted in the published version and the words in square brackets were inserted despite
having not been spoken.
Another method was to tamper with testimonies
of cleansing, in which outright falsehoods were inserted at the editorial stage
and in which ‘expulsion’ was replaced with ‘evacuation’. Oz was well aware of
the thorough cleansing of the villages in the Latrun area.
Conversations with soldiers of Merkaz
Harav yeshivah were also omitted because their messianism was at odds with the
philosophical, reflective Zionist soldier.
Describing how he felt ‘downcast
and mourning’ after his encounter at Merkaz Harav, what ‘really hurt was the utter apathy towards
our moral crisis.’ And this sums up
‘left’ Zionism. Its concerns are not what happened to the Palestinians but with
their own feelings of discomfiture. That
was Oz.
Ariel Hirschfield described Oz’s Black Box as ‘seething with repressed, racist and domineering hatred for the
Sephardi, together with admiration of his might and great fear for him.’ Piterberg
asked ‘how anyone can see dissent in this
literature, aesthetically and/or politically is puzzling.’
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| The original article |
Yediot Aharanot, 3 June 2005
Shortly
after the war the writer Amoz Oz went with Avraham Shapira from Kibbutz Yizrael
to talk to kibbutzniks who participated in the Six Day War. Altogether the two
spoke to 140 officers over the course of hundreds of hours. The result was
published in the book Siah Lohamim
[Soldiers Speak] published in English as ‘The
Seventh Day’. The book, which had not been intended for commercial
distribution, became a best-seller. A hundred thousand copies were sold. The
poet Haim Gouri wrote that the book could shape the soul and the consciousness
of an entire generation. The book was supposed to present a portrait of humane
and high-souled soldiers. Segev quotes in his book a study that was written by
Dr. Alon Gan, himself a kibbutz member, who found that the book was censored
and significant parts of it were deliberately distorted, in order to preserve
the image that was portrayed in it.
For example,
the authors of the book quoted one of the soldiers saying: ‘It was a kind of release [hitparqut] a
really abnormal release.’ In reality the soldier said the following words:
A release that bordered on cruelty. I know that one company commander some old guy forty years old raised his
hands then he fired a burst into his
belly it was a kind of release grenades
into the house just to burn houses some kind of release like that. Also the
words ‘expulsion’ and ‘evacuation’ were omitted. One of the speakers who talked
about the occupation of Gaza was quoted in the book thusly: ‘There was no law’; in reality he said: ‘We had to do the most drastic actions blowing up houses and searching houses it was a situation in which human life was of
no account. You could kill. There was no law.’
Another
speaker related that he and his friends had been given an order to kill
everyone who came from the east bank of the Jordan. The authors of the book
substituted the verb ‘to kill’ with the words ‘to prevent crossing.’ One of the
members of Kibbutz Yifat related an argument that broke out among his friends
over whether they should execute a wounded Syrian soldier whom they came
across. Suddenly one of them broke off the argument, put a rifle to the wounded
man’s head and killed him. In the book that moment was described thus: ‘One suggested executing him. Of course we
didn’t allow it.’ Another soldier asked himself during the war how he would
be able to kill people, and answered, ‘like
I kill flies.’ Those words were censored. Some of the speakers described
serious war crimes that were omitted from the book. One of the speakers
described the treatment of civilians as follows: ‘I felt like a Gestapo man.’
It is
astonishing how much this thing is edited, censored and inauthentic, opines Tom
Segev. ‘A convergence of interests was
created here between a society that needed an image like this and the kibbutz
that needed an image like this. They invented this thing.’
Amos
Oz
In June 2005, Yediot Ahronot reported (see this
article) that Tom Segev
was claiming that Oz, in this 1970
book, censored and faked testimonies of Israeli soldiers about war crimes
in the 1967 war -- for example, a soldier told Oz that they got an order to
kill every person trying to return to the West Bank from the East Bank of the
Jordan but Oz just said that they were told to prevent people crossing the
Jordan.
Letter sent to the Nobel Literature Prize Committee
Honorable
Committee members
Since the writer Amos Oz is
mentioned as a candidate for the 2009 Nobel Literature Prize, I find it
important to inform you that Amos Oz supported the 2 latest wars initiated by
Israel: The Gaza war (December 2008 January 2009) in which war crimes were
committed (as reported just recently in the UN Goldstone report) and the Second
Lebanon war (July August 2006 - see Amnesty International and Human Rights
Watch reports).
Awarding the prize to Amos
Oz, especially so close to those events, contradicts the spirit of Alfred
Nobel, and is a slap on the face to Israeli human rights activists and war resisters,
as well as being an insult to the Palestinian victims, including hundreds
children.
Respectfully,
Gideon Spiro
Tel Aviv
Beneath the
veil of sanctimonious and hypocritical unity, and the media’s fake show of
national grief to advance its own commercial goals, the truth must be told:
Their tragedy isn’t ours
Gideon Levy Dec 16, 2018
2:32 AM
I do not sympathize with people who profiteer from tragedy. I have no
sympathy for robbers. I have no sympathy for the settlers. I have no sympathy
for the settlers not even when they are hit by tragedy. A pregnant woman was wounded and her newborn baby died of its wounds – what can be
worse than that? Driving on their roads is frightening, the violent opposition
to their presence is growing – and I feel no sympathy for their tragedy, nor do
I feel any compassion or solidarity.
They are to blame, not I, for the fact that I cannot feel the most
humane sense of solidarity and pain. It’s not just that they’re settlers, violators of international law
and universal justice; it’s not just because of the violence of some of them
and the settling of all of them – it’s also the blackmail with which they
respond to every tragedy, which prevents me from grieving with them. But
beneath the veil of sanctimonious and hypocritical unity, and the media’s fake
show of national grief to advance its own commercial goals, the truth must be
told: Their tragedy isn’t ours.
Their tragedy isn’t ours because they’ve brought the tragedy upon
themselves and the entire country. It’s true that the main blame goes to the governments that gave into them, either
eagerly or out of weakness, but the settlers cannot be absolved of blame,
either. The extorter – and not just those who have given into extortion – is
also to blame. But they are there, generations born on stolen land, children
raised in an apartheid existence and trained to think it is biblical justice,
and with government support. Perhaps we cannot blame those who are sitting on
land usurped by their parents. But their tragedy is not ours because they
exploit every tragedy to advance their aims in the most cynical of ways.
When a baby dies they install trailer homes, when
soldiers are killed defending them – they do not seek forgiveness from the
families of these soldiers, despite their blame for the lives that have been
cut short – they only present demands so as to whitewash their crimes. And with
these demands the appetite for revenge grows: to imprison even more of their
neighbors, to destroy their homes, to kill, to arrest, block roads and
exact more revenge. And if that, too, is not enough, their own wild militias
raid the Palestinians, throw stones at their vehicles, set their
fields on fire and wreak terror on their villages. They are not satisfied with
the collective punishment imposed by the army and the Shin Bet security service, exercised with
cruelty and sometimes criminality. The settlers’ lust for revenge is never
satisfied. How is it possible to identify with the grief of people who behave
like that?
It’s impossible to identify with their bereavement, because Israel has
decided to avoid looking at all that is done there in the land of Judea. When
you are capable of being indifferent to the execution of a psychologically impaired young man by soldiers, you can also be indifferent to the shooting of a pregnant
woman by Palestinians. When you ignore the goings on at the Tulkarm refugee
camp, you can also ignore what takes place at the Givat Assaf junction. It’s moral blindness to
everything. Yesha isn’t here, that’s the price being paid for the lack of
interest in what is going on in the territories and for ignoring the
occupation, under whose sponsorship the settlements are based. Giant budgets
are poured out there without any public opposition – so there is also
indifference to the fate of the settlers and their tragedies. The piece of land
they have taken over doesn’t interest most Israelis living in the land of
denial, and that’s the price.
We have no reason to apologize for the lack of interest and identification.
The settlers have brought it on themselves. Those who have never shown any
interest in the suffering of their Palestinian neighbors, which they have
caused, those who preach all the time that the iron fist must always be
tightened, to torture them even more – don’t deserve to be identified with, not
even in the hour of their grief. I take no joy in their suffering but I have no
sympathy for their pain. The real pain is borne by their victims, those who
moan submissively and those who take their fate in their hands and try to
resist a violent reality violently and sometimes also murderously. The
Palestinians are the victims deserving of pity and solidarity.
The Disabled Palestinian
Slowly Walked Away. Then, Israeli Troops Shot Him in the Back of the Head
Mohammad Khabali started to retrace his
steps. Security camera footage shows three soldiers moving ahead, to within 80
meters of him. Suddenly two shots are heard. The mentally disabled young man
collapses, dead
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| Mohammed Khabali |
Here’s the stick. The bereaved brother removes the black plastic that’s
wrapped around it reverently, as if it’s a holy relic. It’s a broomstick,
stained with his brother’s blood. It’s the stick he was carrying under his arm
as he tried to move away from Israel Defense Forces soldiers approaching him on
Jaffa Road in downtown Tul Karm, a street of restaurants and cafés. He was shot
from a distance of about 80 meters; the bullet slammed into his head from
behind.
How can it be claimed that he endangered anyone from that far away?
Truly understand Israel and the Middle East, from the most trustworthy
news source in the region >>
The street was relatively quiet. A small number of young people winding
up the night at the coffee houses – and about 30 soldiers opposite them. The
security camera at one of the restaurants shows 2:24 A.M. From the video
provided by that camera and three others along the street, whose footage was obtained by B’Tselem, the Israeli human rights
organization, we see no stone throwing, no large groups milling around. What is
seen are three soldiers moving forward, ahead of the rest of their unit. One
shot is heard from a distance, and another; two soldiers apparently fired
simultaneously. The person seen carrying a stick and walking on the other side
of the street, away from the approaching soldiers, falls to the ground, face
down. For a second he tries to lift his head – before dying. Another young man
is hit in the leg. The soldiers leave in a hurry.
The
B'Tselem footage of the incident.
End of operation. End of the short life of Mohammad Khabali, whom
everyone here called “Za’atar” affectionately (after the popular seasoning made
of wild hyssop). Mentally challenged from birth, he never hurt a soul and
helped local café owners clean up at night in return for a free smoke on the
narghile; occasionally he would beg for a handout from a passerby. It’s
doubtful that the soldier who shot him knew whom he was shooting; it’s even
more doubtful that would have cared. He killed Za’atar for no apparent reason
and inflicted another disaster on his already unfortunate family, which lives
not far away from town in the Tul Karm refugee camp, one of the West Bank’s
poorest.
An intimidating pile of garbage greets visitors at the gates of the
refugee camp; workers wearing United Nations shirts are loading refuse onto a
garbage truck. The Tul Karm camp is the larger of two refugee camps that abut
the city on its eastern side. (The other is Nur a-Shams.) Graffiti of a
prisoner in an Israel Prisons Service uniform is painted on a wall, a young man
in a wheelchair sits in front of one of the houses, the narrow alleys are also
littered with garbage.
Neglect is pervasive here. Garbage swirls even around the shattered
monument commemorating the 157 inhabitants of the camp who were killed until
between 1987 and 2003, during the two intifadas. The monument was erected at
the site where at least 10 young people were killed in the second intifada by IDF snipers who positioned themselves on the roof of a
high building nearby. A new, more up-to-date monument is planned, we’re told by
the camp’s director of services, Faisal Salami. A cluttered store selling
scraps, second-hand items and old trinkets is bursting at the seams. It seems
like all of Israel’s schmattes have ended up here.
Entering one of the houses, we climb to the second floor: It is the home
of the Khabali family and of the camp’s most recent martyr. Exposed electrical
cables adorn the walls, on the sink is an old car mirror – the apartment’s only
mirror. We will soon be joined by the bereaved father, Khossam Khabali, his
legs incapacitated from a childhood disease; he ascends the stairs with great
difficulty, leaning on a cane, both legs disfigured. He’s 54 years old and
trying in every way possible to provide a living for his nine children, two of
whom – the dead son and one of his brothers – have suffered from mental
impairment. Khabali works as a guard in the Tul Karm Municipality, hauls fruits
and vegetables to the market on a mule-drawn cart, and is an occasional
undertaker in the local cemetery. No, he replies, he did not dig his son’s
grave.
His face is a study in grief and suffering. Mona, his wife, a heavyset
woman of 50, speaks about her dead son in a whisper. The shock is still
palpable here.
Last Monday, they relate, Mohammad was at home and in good spirits. He
helped his father fix the mule cart. For supper he had makluba, a chicken and
rice dish that his mother prepared, and at about 7:30 he left for the cafes on
Jaffa Road, as he did every evening. Before leaving, he asked his mother if she
needed anything.
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| Mohammed Khabali's parents (center) at the Tul Karm refugee camp, December 11, 2018.Alex Levac |
He would usually get home around 1 A.M., after straightening and cleaning
up the cafes. This time he didn’t return. At about 3 A.M., distraught young men
arrived at the house and woke up the eldest son, Ala, who roused his parents:
Mohammad had been killed. Khossam asked one of his daughters to check on the
camp’s Facebook page whether it was a mistake, and discovered, to his horror,
that the victim was indeed his Mohammad. In a daze, he hurried to the Thabet
Thabet Hospital in the city, where he saw his son’s body, a hole in the back of
his neck. Death had claimed him at age 22.
Mohammad attended school until sixth grade, but didn’t understand a
thing, his parents say. Already at the age of 3 they noticed he wasn’t
developing like the other children and was mentally disabled. He was their
second son. Their next child, Ibrahim, who’s now 18, suffers from the same
affliction. Ten days before Mohammad was killed, he and Khossam returned from
Amman, where they paid condolences on the death of Khossam’s brother. It was Mohammad’s
first – and last – trip out of the country.
According to his Aunt Latifa, who came to Tul Karm for the funeral, he
was thrilled to be in Amman. Video clips show him dancing and singing at the
home of relatives in the Jordanian capital, a day before returning to the
refugee camp. There’s also a selfie that Mohammad took. He helped his uncles
harvest and sort olives – that too was captured on video and in other photos.
In the last picture taken of him, Mohammad can be seen holding a small
Koran and seemingly reading from it, though he didn’t know how to read or
write. That shot was taken in one of the Jaffa Road coffee houses, about an
hour and a half before soldiers killed him. Some clips show him speaking, but
his speech is slurred, unclear. Allah have mercy, his aunt sighs.
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| Mohammed Khabali's funeral, Tul Karm refugee camp, December 4, 2018.AFP |
After father and son returned from Amman, discussions began about the
wedding of the eldest, Ala. Mohammad told his parents that he’d like to be the
next to get married. Mohammad was never stopped by soldiers, never got into a
quarrel with anyone, and appears to have been much loved in the camp and in the
city, partly because of his impairment. The narghile was his way of relaxing,
his escape.
After leaving the family with a heavy heart, we drive to the scene of the
killing. Tul Karm’s main street for entertainment begins at Kadoorie Technical
University, at the city’s western edge, and ascends to the town center: stores,
computer game arcades, restaurants, cafés – one of which is for women only, its
windows blacked out. Some of the places are stylishly designed. There’s Café
Bianco, Café Al-Shelal and opposite them a wall painting of Mahmoud Darwish,
the Palestinian national poet.
On the night between Monday and Tuesday of this past week, some 200
soldiers invaded the city, according to residents’ estimates, and scattered to
a number of sites. Routine. A group of about 30 soldiers raided two houses just
off Jaffa Road and then proceeded to the main street. They didn’t detain
anyone. The coffee houses were already mostly closed, the A-Sabah hummus
restaurant was about to open to welcome workers who set out to their jobs in
Israel in the middle of the night.
The soldiers gathered next to the Al-Fadilia boys school, the city’s
veteran educational institution, at one end of the street. The young people who
emerged from the cafés exchanged curses with the soldiers, some threw stones at
them from a distance. According to Abd al-Karim Sa’adi, a field investigator for
B’Tselem, who carefully collected evidence immediately after the killing as
though he were from a police forensic unit, including footage from all the
security cameras on the street, the stones landed halfway between the young
people and the soldiers. No one was hit.
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| A memorial for those killed at the Tul Karm refugee camp. Alex Levac |
In Sa’adi’s estimation, no more than 15 or 20 young Palestinians
confronted the soldiers, from some distance. One of them told Mohammad,
“Za’atar, you should get out of here.” As the video from one camera shows,
Za’atar turns around and starts to walk away from the soldiers. Not running but
slowly walking. Then he’s shot in the head, from behind.
In a statement to Haaretz this week, the IDF Spokespersons Unit said,
“Last week a Military Police investigation was launched. At this stage it can
be noted that during operational activity of Israeli soldiers in Tul Karm, a
violent riot erupted and dozens of Palestinians hurled rocks towards the
fighters. In response, the soldiers used riot-dispersal means and live fire. It
was reported that one Palestinian was killed and another injured [in this
incident]. When the army finishes its investigation, the conclusions of the
probe will be examined by the military prosecutor. The incident is also being
probed at the command level.”
B’Tselem has released the following statement: “Video footage from four
security cameras installed on three separate buildings along the street shows
that the area was perfectly quiet and that there were no clashes there with
soldiers… The video footage and the eyewitness accounts collected by B’Tselem
from people who were near Khabali show no absolutely no of sign of any
‘disturbance,’ stone-throwing or use of crowd control measures. Quite the
contrary: the soldiers are seen walking unhurriedly, the Palestinians are seen
talking amongst themselves, and then the soldiers fatally shoot Khabali in the
head from a considerable distance. The lethal shooting was not preceded by a
warning, was not justified and constitutes a violation of the law.”
A few faded bloodstains are still visible on the asphalt where Khabali’s
body was dragged away after the shooting. He died on the spot, his head
bleeding profusely, Sa’adi says.
Fine Italian espresso is served in the café opposite, and two colorful
photographs are hanging on the wall. One is of a large drone with the Israel
Air Force symbol on its tail, the other of an IAF Fouga early fighter plane in
the skies above Israel. The proprietor says he erased the squadron numbers
before hanging them. He bought the two pictures in Tul Karm’s flea market.
Mohammad Khabali, aka “Za’atar,” is now buried not far from here, in the
martyrs section of the cemetery.
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