"You came for the big party, and tomorrow is it," Mick from the Scottish Palestine Solidarity Campaign said last night at the organizing meeting as we planned our illegal demonstration happening in a police state, in a meeting that overflowed the restaurant of the hotel in which we were meeting and was surely infiltrated with police agents.
Having been barred entry into Gaza, we had decided to have our Freedom March right here in downtown Cairo, in Tahrir Square, the Times Square of Cairo. There were so many reasons why this plan was insane. We had been prevented from meeting in large groups. Communication could politely be described as sketchy. All our meetings had been infiltrated and they were probably listening to our cell phone conversations. The location we had picked was large, complex, and ground zero for Cairo's kamikaze traffic. The police presence had already been quite intense and groups assembling on the street had been quickly targeted.
The night before the march, we noticed police buildup around all our hotels. The de facto affinity group that had formed at our hotel decided to leave early that morning. Everyone was dressed in non-activist clothes, looking like tourists, traveling in small groups. As we headed out in the morning, we were relieved to find our hotel had not been sealed off, but as we passed the Lotus Hotel, where many of the organizers were staying, we saw it was completely barricaded and surrounded by riot cops. A crew of people ended up being trapped there for several hours.
One thing I've learned from this week is that if you're going to do something insane, you have to commit to it. Because we had already survived one confrontation with the riot cops, at the US embassy, unscathed, my two friends and I all felt confident enough to volunteer to be in the "front line" contingent of women (which only ended up being about 15 people) who were going to give the signal to start the protest and be the first to go into the street.
We had decided that the only way we could assemble was by "flash mob," where small groups of people come together quickly like swarms of mosquitos at a pre-determined point. Man, flash mobs were made for this shit. Our crew of about 15 had all tucked "flags," really just large bright pieces of cloth, into our shirts and bags. As we reached the point where the protest was going to start, the cops scoped us out and started closing in. Next thing I know, Lisa, our team leader, has her flag out and is chanting "Free, free Gaza!" and marching right into the street. Then we're all doing it, and suddenly out of nowhere we have a crowd of several hundred people behind us. The notoriously homicidal Cairo traffic parts like the Red Sea for us and we are marching in the street.
That lasted for probably about a minute. The cops had their own flash mob brewing and were on us immediately. They penned us in and stopped everyone from moving within minutes...I'd say less than five, but who knows? We sat down in the street and linked arms. I couldn't really tell how many people sat down because damned if I didn't end up in the very front line.
The cops had clearly decided that if we were going to get a dose of violence, blocking traffic was the right excuse for it. They started physically pulling us out of the street--grabbing, shoving, hitting and dragging those who peacefully resisted, and apparently shouting insults at us in Arabic, although I couldn't tell you what they were. They had observed quite accurately who the instigators were and targeted us first. The uniformed riot cops (who ironically are the scary-looking ones) we learned are mostly military conscripts who either couldn't care less about us or are actually sympathetic. They were great at blocking us in but tended not to hurt us. The plainclothes cops are the career policemen, and they were very rough with us. One of my friends was punched in the head (though luckily not too hard); a man was hit hard with a walkie-talkie under his eye and was bleeding. I was grabbed forcefully enough to leave bruises on my arm, although I'm proud to say I gave them a decent amount of trouble. I ended up being extremely grateful for the nonviolence training we had taken with Starhawk the previous day. Through some protest miracle, I managed to hang onto the keffiyah I'd bought in Gaza, and all my electronics escaped damage.
They forced us onto the sidewalk with really remarkable speed. Once on the sidewalk, they surrounded us again, but by getting everyone to sit down (I'd say this was 300-500 people now), we held the space. We were now occupying a sidewalk on one of Cairo's busiest streets. We hung banners and flags from a tree and lamp posts, waved Palestinian flags, chanted, sang songs, held a speakout with representatives from all the different country delegations that had participated, and held spokescouncil meetings right there on the sidewalk to decide what to do next and how long to stay. We set up a bathroom station when they refused to let us leave. Egyptians brought us food and water, passed through the police lines. We re-christened our space "Free Gaza Square."
We held the space for nearly seven hours. Our original plan was to stay through midnight and ring in the new year in Free Gaza Square. By late afternoon, our numbers had dwindled significantly though, to a level that some people thought was unsafe, and we decided to disperse peacefully as a unified group. While we weren't able to carry out the stay-til-midnight plan, I think the fact that we were able to organize *anything* given the conditions we were operating under is a significant accomplishment. I felt that we had achieved what we wanted to achieve, which was to show the world that we stand with Gaza, we want to see the siege broken, and we will not let the Egyptian government silence us. Even though we would have much preferred to be in Gaza, we knew that we were marching when the Palestinians were marching, and they knew it too.
Although I had been ready to stay until midnight, or longer, I can't say I wasn't grateful for a few hours back at the hotel to depressurize. We did ring in the new year with a protest, back in Tahrir Square: a lovely, really beautiful and moving candlelight vigil in a tranquil plaza. The most moving thing was the numbers of Egyptians who materialized seemingly out of nowhere to participate. Even here, the riot cops couldn't leave us alone, and plainclothes officers scared off most of the Egyptians pretty quickly. But everyone knows what we have done here. People wave to us on the street and greet us with a "You go to Gaza?" and sometimes a "Good luck!" or a victory sign.
During the vigil, Medea called Deema, one of the march organizers in Gaza, where they had just finished a concert for the folks who did make it in, about 85 all together. Medea relayed messages from Deema to the crowd, and at one point we all chanted "We love you, Gaza!" into the phone. Toward the end of the conversation, Deema said something like "we can feel your solidarity, and it gives us the strength to keep fighting for our freedom." In all the chaos and confusion and infighting and hastily made, imperfect plans, this was the most important thing of all to hear.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
gaza freedom march dec. 30
This is the bullet point version since I have to get to sleep soon in preparation for tomorrow.
- Deal to let 100 people go, which seemed like a victory at first, is feeling increasingly like a strategy to divide us. Egyptians imposed all kinds of conditions and then announced to their own media that they (not us) had selected the "truly peaceful" activists and allowed only them to go. This is bullshit. We did the selection ourselves, under ridiculous time constraints, and we all signed a pledge of nonviolence when we signed up for the march. They are trying to say that purely humanitarian actions are okay but political ones are not. Given these new details, some who were selected decided not to go, others went to Gaza and will be on the march in Gaza tomorrow. Good arguments can be made for both positions. More later.
- We heard that Israelis dropped leaflets warning Gazans of impending war for the second time yesterday. Not sure if this is just a torture tactic or real evidence of an impending escalation.
- We are planning a unified march in downtown Cairo tomorrow, to protest the siege and show solidarity with the Gazans, who are still planning to march inside Gaza. French are packing up their embassy encampment and will join us. Tonight we've noticed cops beefing up security around our hotels. Their strategy has been to contain, and we don't know if they will even let us out in the morning. We have no idea how far our "march" will get, but we plan to move as far as possible and then sit down wherever we are stopped.
Intenet access may be limited if I'm, say, sitting in on the street in Cairo. I'll do my best to update via Twitter (lauradurkay, or just search for the hashtag #GFM).
- Deal to let 100 people go, which seemed like a victory at first, is feeling increasingly like a strategy to divide us. Egyptians imposed all kinds of conditions and then announced to their own media that they (not us) had selected the "truly peaceful" activists and allowed only them to go. This is bullshit. We did the selection ourselves, under ridiculous time constraints, and we all signed a pledge of nonviolence when we signed up for the march. They are trying to say that purely humanitarian actions are okay but political ones are not. Given these new details, some who were selected decided not to go, others went to Gaza and will be on the march in Gaza tomorrow. Good arguments can be made for both positions. More later.
- We heard that Israelis dropped leaflets warning Gazans of impending war for the second time yesterday. Not sure if this is just a torture tactic or real evidence of an impending escalation.
- We are planning a unified march in downtown Cairo tomorrow, to protest the siege and show solidarity with the Gazans, who are still planning to march inside Gaza. French are packing up their embassy encampment and will join us. Tonight we've noticed cops beefing up security around our hotels. Their strategy has been to contain, and we don't know if they will even let us out in the morning. We have no idea how far our "march" will get, but we plan to move as far as possible and then sit down wherever we are stopped.
Intenet access may be limited if I'm, say, sitting in on the street in Cairo. I'll do my best to update via Twitter (lauradurkay, or just search for the hashtag #GFM).
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
report from the us embassy action in cairo
I was an eyewitness to the Egyptian police repression of Gaza Freedom Marchers at the US embassy in Cairo today, December 29, 2009.
1300 delegates from all over the world have been trying to reach Gaza to march in solidarity with the Gazan people to commemorate the one-year anniversary of the Israeli massacre called Operation Cast Lead. We bring with us tens of thousands of dollars of material aid, including medical supplies, school supplies and winter coats, and the solidarity of people in 43 countries around the world.
The Egyptian government has been blocking us from going, and we know that behind the Egyptians is the United States, which gives Egypt several billion dollars of aid every year in exchange for their collaboration with US and Israeli wishes, including enforcing the siege on Gaza, and lately, building an underground wall under the border with Gaza that will cut the tunnels that are a lifeline for the majority of the population of Gaza.
Early this morning, a small group of delegates from CODEPINK had a meeting at the US embassy to ask for their support in helping us get our humanitarian mission into Gaza. They were joined by about 30 supporters in the heavily fortified courtyard of the embassy. The supporters, who were peacefully assembled, were immediately surrounded and hemmed in very tightly by a circle of riot police and not allowed to disperse, meaning they were effectively being detained on the spot.
I and the two friends with whom I am traveling happened to arrive late to the action. We, along with a few other people, tried to observe the situation from outside the permanent barricade around the US embassy. Egyptian riot police and plainclothes secret police kept trying to move us along and we kept ignoring them. Without warning, a group of riot police started physically pushing our group of about 8 activists very aggressively toward the "pen" they had created for the other activists. One activist who had a suitcase full of supplies had the suitcase grabbed out of her hands, ripping the handle right off. The suitcase was quartantined inside the pen and they tried to make her go too.
Out of pure luck, one of the 8 people among us was a well-known, very experienced activist and nonviolent civil disobedience trainer. When the police started shoving people, she told us to sit down, and we all sat in the street right in front of one of the main entrances to the embassy compound, on a very busy thoroughfare along the Nile. The police immediately surrounded us with arms linked in a tight cordon. They repeatedly tried to get us to go inside the pen and we repeatedly refused. When they heard a man who spoke Arabic translating some of what they were saying to us, they very roughly grabbed him, dragged him over the barricades outside the embassy and forced him into the pen with the 30 people inside the gates. They were also extremely aggressive with media, both "official" and grassroots, keeping them away from us and demanding that we not take pictures and video ourselves (we sneaked some anyway.)
Although they definitely wanted to contain us and block us from view of passing Egyptians and media, it became clear that they were not yet ready to escalate to the level of arresting us or physically dragging members of our group of all women one by one into the main protest pen, which is what they would have had to do to make us move. Eventually we were able to create some space for ourselves, enlarge our circle, and start chanting and waving victory signs at people passing on the road. We chanted in English and Arabic and got a lot of hastily flashed, but inspiring, signs of support from passing Egyptians. The cops even tasked someone to keep traffic moving, since it was starting to slow down near us.
Ali Abunimah, editor of Electronic Intifada, bless his heart, was negotiating with the police, talking to people in the embassy, and liaising with both protest groups the whole time. He did a fantastic job despite some of the secret service folks getting quite hostile and threatening with him. Not once did anyone from the US embassy intervene to protect their own citizens from being detained by a foreign police force and blocked from entereing their own embassy, which I'm sure is illegal under even Egyptian law. But then, that didn't really surprise us. We know whose side they're on.
After about three hours, we managed to negotiate a truce in which people were allowed to leave the area in small groups. Although we had been detained for several hours, no one was arrested. Despite repeated insistence that we in the sit-in group had to go inside the protest pen, we never did and they were not ready to force us to do so at this point.
One note about the Egyptian police: most of the uniformed cops are military conscripts, and many are quite sympathetic to us, but feel they can't do anything other than follow orders. I also want to be clear that the repression we faced today, while not insignificant, is MILD compared to what Egyptians themselves would have faced, or what Palestinians in the Occupied Territoruies face every day. We considered it a small victory that they were not able to completely control our movement, and we learned a lot about how to operate in situations of(nonviolent) noncompliance with this particular police force. We think they are--at least for now--reluctant to use more repressive tactics on internationals, such as mass arrest or violence on a large scale (though there have been incidents of police violence in the past two days) for fear of international embarrassment. This is great for us, since it means that we still have space to escalate our tactics if we so desire.
1300 delegates from all over the world have been trying to reach Gaza to march in solidarity with the Gazan people to commemorate the one-year anniversary of the Israeli massacre called Operation Cast Lead. We bring with us tens of thousands of dollars of material aid, including medical supplies, school supplies and winter coats, and the solidarity of people in 43 countries around the world.
The Egyptian government has been blocking us from going, and we know that behind the Egyptians is the United States, which gives Egypt several billion dollars of aid every year in exchange for their collaboration with US and Israeli wishes, including enforcing the siege on Gaza, and lately, building an underground wall under the border with Gaza that will cut the tunnels that are a lifeline for the majority of the population of Gaza.
Early this morning, a small group of delegates from CODEPINK had a meeting at the US embassy to ask for their support in helping us get our humanitarian mission into Gaza. They were joined by about 30 supporters in the heavily fortified courtyard of the embassy. The supporters, who were peacefully assembled, were immediately surrounded and hemmed in very tightly by a circle of riot police and not allowed to disperse, meaning they were effectively being detained on the spot.
I and the two friends with whom I am traveling happened to arrive late to the action. We, along with a few other people, tried to observe the situation from outside the permanent barricade around the US embassy. Egyptian riot police and plainclothes secret police kept trying to move us along and we kept ignoring them. Without warning, a group of riot police started physically pushing our group of about 8 activists very aggressively toward the "pen" they had created for the other activists. One activist who had a suitcase full of supplies had the suitcase grabbed out of her hands, ripping the handle right off. The suitcase was quartantined inside the pen and they tried to make her go too.
Out of pure luck, one of the 8 people among us was a well-known, very experienced activist and nonviolent civil disobedience trainer. When the police started shoving people, she told us to sit down, and we all sat in the street right in front of one of the main entrances to the embassy compound, on a very busy thoroughfare along the Nile. The police immediately surrounded us with arms linked in a tight cordon. They repeatedly tried to get us to go inside the pen and we repeatedly refused. When they heard a man who spoke Arabic translating some of what they were saying to us, they very roughly grabbed him, dragged him over the barricades outside the embassy and forced him into the pen with the 30 people inside the gates. They were also extremely aggressive with media, both "official" and grassroots, keeping them away from us and demanding that we not take pictures and video ourselves (we sneaked some anyway.)
Although they definitely wanted to contain us and block us from view of passing Egyptians and media, it became clear that they were not yet ready to escalate to the level of arresting us or physically dragging members of our group of all women one by one into the main protest pen, which is what they would have had to do to make us move. Eventually we were able to create some space for ourselves, enlarge our circle, and start chanting and waving victory signs at people passing on the road. We chanted in English and Arabic and got a lot of hastily flashed, but inspiring, signs of support from passing Egyptians. The cops even tasked someone to keep traffic moving, since it was starting to slow down near us.
Ali Abunimah, editor of Electronic Intifada, bless his heart, was negotiating with the police, talking to people in the embassy, and liaising with both protest groups the whole time. He did a fantastic job despite some of the secret service folks getting quite hostile and threatening with him. Not once did anyone from the US embassy intervene to protect their own citizens from being detained by a foreign police force and blocked from entereing their own embassy, which I'm sure is illegal under even Egyptian law. But then, that didn't really surprise us. We know whose side they're on.
After about three hours, we managed to negotiate a truce in which people were allowed to leave the area in small groups. Although we had been detained for several hours, no one was arrested. Despite repeated insistence that we in the sit-in group had to go inside the protest pen, we never did and they were not ready to force us to do so at this point.
One note about the Egyptian police: most of the uniformed cops are military conscripts, and many are quite sympathetic to us, but feel they can't do anything other than follow orders. I also want to be clear that the repression we faced today, while not insignificant, is MILD compared to what Egyptians themselves would have faced, or what Palestinians in the Occupied Territoruies face every day. We considered it a small victory that they were not able to completely control our movement, and we learned a lot about how to operate in situations of(nonviolent) noncompliance with this particular police force. We think they are--at least for now--reluctant to use more repressive tactics on internationals, such as mass arrest or violence on a large scale (though there have been incidents of police violence in the past two days) for fear of international embarrassment. This is great for us, since it means that we still have space to escalate our tactics if we so desire.
gaza freedom march update, dec 28-29
Under the original plan, I was supposed to be in Gaza by now, but we are still in Cairo. The Egyptian government has been blocking us at every turn, but we have been pushing back. There are delegates here from all over the world and despite the repression, amazing things are happening.
Egypt is a police state, and any political gathering of more than 6 people is technically illegal. This means not only our demonstrations but all of our organizing meetings can be broken up at the will of the police, making it difficult to coordinate between 1300 people from 43 countries. The government has made things difficult for us by revoking the permit we secured for our initial mass orientation meeting, keeping us from congregating in large spaces for organizing, and threatening Egyptians who intially promised to work with us. Buses we ordered have been canceled and cab drivers have been told they will have their cabs confiscated if they take anyone to the border, or even to the town of Al Arish, which is 25 miles from the border and the staging ground for delegations and aid into Gaza. We also heard that foreigners were not being allowed on public buses to Al Arish and that passports were being checked.
However, we also realize that, as foreigners, we have a huge amount of privilege that Egyptians who protest their own government's actions do not have. We are just not going to be subject to the same level of repression that's meted out to Egyptian activists, for whom arrest, beatings, long prison terms and torture are common features of political life. This means that we have the ability to push back against some of the Egyptian government's attempts to control us.
The day before yesterday the word from the Egyptian government was along the lines of "We've told you no, absolutely not, you are not getting in. What part of that don't you understand?"
We decided that the time for polite negotiation was over, and groups of delegates started escalating to more confrontational actions. The French delegation occupied the street in front of their embassy in the Cairo neighborhood of Giza, demanding that the French government intervene on their behalf. Although they were quickly surrounded by hundreds of riot cops and eventually pushed out of the street onto the sidewalk, they have remained strong and are calling their encampment "the Giza Strip."
Yesterday we spent most of the day protesting outside the UN offices. A few representatives met with UN officials, who basically told us they were powerless against the people that everyone knows really call the shots--the Americans and the Israelis. Meanwhile, hundreds of us gathered in the plaza downstairs, chanting, singing, waving banners and a giant Palestinian flag. Hedy Esptein, an 85-year-old Holocaust survivor on our delegation, announced she was starting a hunger strike until we get into Gaza. She now has about 25 people joining her.
Today many national delegations targeted their embassies, and you better believe we were at the US embassy. By sheer dumb luck I was one of about 8 people involved in a 3-hour sit-in surrouned by riot cops outside the gates of the embassy, but that story deserves it own post, to follow shortly. Although they detained us for several hours and got very physical at times (shoving and dragging people, but no batons yet) they did not arrest anyone, and all ~40 people (about 30 inside the gates and the 8 of us outside) were eventually released.
The MO of the Egyptian police seems to be twofold: to contain us in very controlled spaces, and above all to keep us isolated from the general Egyptian population. The government fears the revolt of their own population more than anything, and they know that their collaboration with Israel in maintaining the siege--and the internal repressive conditions they maintain--just makes that revolt more inevitable.
While they have been fairly successful on the first count, they have massively failed on the second one. Our actions were on the front page of newspapers in Cairo this morning. In the downtown neighborhood where many of us are staying, people who see our keffiyahs, t-shirts and Gaza Freedom March buttons have been stopping us to talk and show their support (and frequently try to plug the family shop located nearby, but that's just how it goes here.)
Perhaps most amazing of all was the protest we attended tonight on the steps of the journalists' syndicate building. In the middle of all this, Netanyahu has the gall to come visit Egypt. Egyptian activists called for our support at a joint protest. When we arrived there were, I think, about 500 people (but people were jammed so tightly onto the steps it was hard for me to get a good estimate.) I think the balance was probably about 2/3 Egyptian and 1/3 international--chanting together in English and Arabic behind four lines of riot cops. The chants were "Free Gaza," "Viva Palestina," and "Down with Netanyahu"...but also "Free Egypt" and "Down with Mubarak."
We know it is very dangerous for the Egyptians to be taking part in any protest at all and we felt honored and inspired to stand among them. "It is because of you [internationals] that we are being allowed to do this at all," one protester told us. "If you weren't here we would be locked up straight away."
Just a few hours ago, we heard that Egyptian first lady Suzanne Mubarak had in fact reponded to a letter delivered to her by the women's affinity group. The Egyptian government has allowed us to send 100 people on two buses into Gaza tomorrow, with as much of the aid as we can assemble given the extremely short notice.
The 100 people going were selected by proportional representation from as many different countries as we could muster. I am not among them, nor was I expecting to be. Personally, I would much rather those seats go to Palestinians who have family in Gaza (who are among us) and those who have not yet had the wonderful experience of traveling there.
However, this represents a significant victory. We have pushed them and they have gone from "what part of no don't you understand?" to allowing 100 people in. We are going to keep pushing and continue our actions over the next couple of days. If 100 can go in, why not 1000, we ask?
If there's a chance for me to get to Gaza, I will be thrilled. But if there isn't, I feel that we have already done something significant here. We've put another little crack in the wall of the siege, and every crack, no matter how small, is a step in the right direction.
Egypt is a police state, and any political gathering of more than 6 people is technically illegal. This means not only our demonstrations but all of our organizing meetings can be broken up at the will of the police, making it difficult to coordinate between 1300 people from 43 countries. The government has made things difficult for us by revoking the permit we secured for our initial mass orientation meeting, keeping us from congregating in large spaces for organizing, and threatening Egyptians who intially promised to work with us. Buses we ordered have been canceled and cab drivers have been told they will have their cabs confiscated if they take anyone to the border, or even to the town of Al Arish, which is 25 miles from the border and the staging ground for delegations and aid into Gaza. We also heard that foreigners were not being allowed on public buses to Al Arish and that passports were being checked.
However, we also realize that, as foreigners, we have a huge amount of privilege that Egyptians who protest their own government's actions do not have. We are just not going to be subject to the same level of repression that's meted out to Egyptian activists, for whom arrest, beatings, long prison terms and torture are common features of political life. This means that we have the ability to push back against some of the Egyptian government's attempts to control us.
The day before yesterday the word from the Egyptian government was along the lines of "We've told you no, absolutely not, you are not getting in. What part of that don't you understand?"
We decided that the time for polite negotiation was over, and groups of delegates started escalating to more confrontational actions. The French delegation occupied the street in front of their embassy in the Cairo neighborhood of Giza, demanding that the French government intervene on their behalf. Although they were quickly surrounded by hundreds of riot cops and eventually pushed out of the street onto the sidewalk, they have remained strong and are calling their encampment "the Giza Strip."
Yesterday we spent most of the day protesting outside the UN offices. A few representatives met with UN officials, who basically told us they were powerless against the people that everyone knows really call the shots--the Americans and the Israelis. Meanwhile, hundreds of us gathered in the plaza downstairs, chanting, singing, waving banners and a giant Palestinian flag. Hedy Esptein, an 85-year-old Holocaust survivor on our delegation, announced she was starting a hunger strike until we get into Gaza. She now has about 25 people joining her.
Today many national delegations targeted their embassies, and you better believe we were at the US embassy. By sheer dumb luck I was one of about 8 people involved in a 3-hour sit-in surrouned by riot cops outside the gates of the embassy, but that story deserves it own post, to follow shortly. Although they detained us for several hours and got very physical at times (shoving and dragging people, but no batons yet) they did not arrest anyone, and all ~40 people (about 30 inside the gates and the 8 of us outside) were eventually released.
The MO of the Egyptian police seems to be twofold: to contain us in very controlled spaces, and above all to keep us isolated from the general Egyptian population. The government fears the revolt of their own population more than anything, and they know that their collaboration with Israel in maintaining the siege--and the internal repressive conditions they maintain--just makes that revolt more inevitable.
While they have been fairly successful on the first count, they have massively failed on the second one. Our actions were on the front page of newspapers in Cairo this morning. In the downtown neighborhood where many of us are staying, people who see our keffiyahs, t-shirts and Gaza Freedom March buttons have been stopping us to talk and show their support (and frequently try to plug the family shop located nearby, but that's just how it goes here.)
Perhaps most amazing of all was the protest we attended tonight on the steps of the journalists' syndicate building. In the middle of all this, Netanyahu has the gall to come visit Egypt. Egyptian activists called for our support at a joint protest. When we arrived there were, I think, about 500 people (but people were jammed so tightly onto the steps it was hard for me to get a good estimate.) I think the balance was probably about 2/3 Egyptian and 1/3 international--chanting together in English and Arabic behind four lines of riot cops. The chants were "Free Gaza," "Viva Palestina," and "Down with Netanyahu"...but also "Free Egypt" and "Down with Mubarak."
We know it is very dangerous for the Egyptians to be taking part in any protest at all and we felt honored and inspired to stand among them. "It is because of you [internationals] that we are being allowed to do this at all," one protester told us. "If you weren't here we would be locked up straight away."
Just a few hours ago, we heard that Egyptian first lady Suzanne Mubarak had in fact reponded to a letter delivered to her by the women's affinity group. The Egyptian government has allowed us to send 100 people on two buses into Gaza tomorrow, with as much of the aid as we can assemble given the extremely short notice.
The 100 people going were selected by proportional representation from as many different countries as we could muster. I am not among them, nor was I expecting to be. Personally, I would much rather those seats go to Palestinians who have family in Gaza (who are among us) and those who have not yet had the wonderful experience of traveling there.
However, this represents a significant victory. We have pushed them and they have gone from "what part of no don't you understand?" to allowing 100 people in. We are going to keep pushing and continue our actions over the next couple of days. If 100 can go in, why not 1000, we ask?
If there's a chance for me to get to Gaza, I will be thrilled. But if there isn't, I feel that we have already done something significant here. We've put another little crack in the wall of the siege, and every crack, no matter how small, is a step in the right direction.
Friday, December 25, 2009
wwjd? he'd be on the gaza freedom march, duh
Christmas Day here in the states, and the Gaza Freedom Marchers and Viva Palestina folks are undeterred. Viva Palestina is still being blocked from entering Egypt, but negotiations are ongoing and Galloway has said they will not be moved. "We feel very sad that Egypt has turned us away on Christmas Day, but we hope they will reconsider," Galloway said in a statement on the VP website. "This is a very determined convoy and we're not going anywhere except to Gaza."
On the Gaza Freedom March front, delegates from around the world have begun arriving in Cairo, with many more on the way in the next several days. Judging from what the organizers have communicated to us, the mood is excited and defiant despite the Egyptian government's continued efforts to thwart us, the latest of which is canceling the permits we had secured for our large orientation meeting. (Under Egyptian law, any political gathering of more than 6 people is technically illegal.) The organizers have sent an open letter directly to Egyptian President Mubarak asking that we be allowed to proceed with the march, a nonviolent humanitarian action organized by global civil society.
We continue to receive messages of support from around the world, but the one that most inspired me comes from the West Bank village of Bil'in. The residents of Bil'in are perhaps the world's leading experts in creative, nonviolent resistance in the face of extremely violent repression. The fact that they are watching, supporting and encouraging us, and will be demonstrating "in solidarity with Gaza, and all those trying to enter," despite the fact that the conditions of oppression in their own village are themselves quite dire...well, that's the kind of thing that can only make one more determined, right?
We are still hoping to get into Gaza, but a variety of very exciting potential alternatives are now being planned if we do not get in. Regardless of what country I'm in, I am confident that I'll be ringing in 2010 exactly where I want to be--standing in solidarity with the Palestinians.
On the Gaza Freedom March front, delegates from around the world have begun arriving in Cairo, with many more on the way in the next several days. Judging from what the organizers have communicated to us, the mood is excited and defiant despite the Egyptian government's continued efforts to thwart us, the latest of which is canceling the permits we had secured for our large orientation meeting. (Under Egyptian law, any political gathering of more than 6 people is technically illegal.) The organizers have sent an open letter directly to Egyptian President Mubarak asking that we be allowed to proceed with the march, a nonviolent humanitarian action organized by global civil society.
We continue to receive messages of support from around the world, but the one that most inspired me comes from the West Bank village of Bil'in. The residents of Bil'in are perhaps the world's leading experts in creative, nonviolent resistance in the face of extremely violent repression. The fact that they are watching, supporting and encouraging us, and will be demonstrating "in solidarity with Gaza, and all those trying to enter," despite the fact that the conditions of oppression in their own village are themselves quite dire...well, that's the kind of thing that can only make one more determined, right?
We are still hoping to get into Gaza, but a variety of very exciting potential alternatives are now being planned if we do not get in. Regardless of what country I'm in, I am confident that I'll be ringing in 2010 exactly where I want to be--standing in solidarity with the Palestinians.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
viva palestina stopped at aqaba
For the moment we are back on the bad news side of the spectrum. Earlier today, the word was that Viva Palestina was being allowed into Gaza. The convoy, now consisting of hundreds of vehicles packed with medical supplies, arrived at Aqaba, in Jordan, only to be told they would not be allowed onto the ferry to cross to the Egyptian port of Nuweiba. Now they are being told, "Oh yes, you can bring your aid into Gaza...but only from Al Arish."
Al Arish is on the Mediterranean. On the other side of the Sinai Peninsula. To get there from Aqaba one would have to almost completely circumnavigate the Sinai, adding almost 500 nautical miles to the trip. I don't want to speculate on what's being negotiated or considered on the convoy; I advise you check out the Reading PSC website for plenty of live updates. Things can change at any minute and probably will.
The point is that, as is common in this part of the world, one roadblock removed has rapidly turned into another roadblock erected. Elation turns to anxiety as quickly as that, all at the whim of a foreign government. And once again we're reminded that one of the most basic of freedoms, freedom of movement--something many first-worlders take for granted--is not guaranteed at all when it comes to Palestine.
Of course everyone is still going; many delegates are on their way or already in Cairo. Of course. What else can you do? The only way to face such obstacles is with a heavy dose of what Palestinians call samoud, steadfastness. But it does make one imagine. If you lived in Gaza, your whole life would be like this.
Al Arish is on the Mediterranean. On the other side of the Sinai Peninsula. To get there from Aqaba one would have to almost completely circumnavigate the Sinai, adding almost 500 nautical miles to the trip. I don't want to speculate on what's being negotiated or considered on the convoy; I advise you check out the Reading PSC website for plenty of live updates. Things can change at any minute and probably will.
The point is that, as is common in this part of the world, one roadblock removed has rapidly turned into another roadblock erected. Elation turns to anxiety as quickly as that, all at the whim of a foreign government. And once again we're reminded that one of the most basic of freedoms, freedom of movement--something many first-worlders take for granted--is not guaranteed at all when it comes to Palestine.
Of course everyone is still going; many delegates are on their way or already in Cairo. Of course. What else can you do? The only way to face such obstacles is with a heavy dose of what Palestinians call samoud, steadfastness. But it does make one imagine. If you lived in Gaza, your whole life would be like this.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
gaza freedom march: keep the pressure on!
Good news: the Viva Palestina convoy, currently in Amman on its way to Gaza, has apparently gotten word from the Egyptian government that they will be allowed into Gaza "due to the humanitarian nature of their mission." Of course, nothing is guaranteed when it comes to that border, but this is a very encouraging development, since, to my knowledge, no international solidarity delegation has ever gotten an official "green light" from the Egyptian government before going to the border. (Side note: You can follow the convoy on a cool live Google map here on the Reading, UK Palestine Solidarity Campaign's website.)
Bad news: the Gaza Freedom March has not gotten a "green light." Yet. We too are bringing desperately needed humanitarian aid valued at tens of thousands of dollars, including medical supplies, school supplies (even basics like paper and pencils are scarce in Gaza) and winter coats (winters in Gaza are cold and rainy, particularly miserable if you're one of the estimated 40,000 people whose home was damaged or destroyed.) In light of the excellent news about Viva Palestina, we have formally contacted the Egyptian government requesting the same consideration. We have not heard anything yet. But...
Good news: the organizers are reporting that Egyptian embassies around the world have been "besieged" (quite appropriately!) with calls supporting the march. Apparently the switchboard operators in the DC embassy complained that they "cannot conduct normal business," which is awesome.
As delegates from around the world start to board plans headed for Cairo, it is especially important for our supporters to keep the pressure on. Please continue to call Egyptian embassies and consulates and POLITELY but firmly insist that Egypt open the Rafah crossing for the Gaza Freedom March. You can stress the humanitarian nature of our mission and the fact that we are trying to do what a coalition of 16 prominent NGOs say the international community has failed to do in the last year: bring real relief and show solidarity with the people of Gaza.
The numbers to call are:
Egyptian Embassy in DC: 202-895-4500 (ask for Omar Youssef)
NYC: 212-759-7120, 212-759-2171
Chicago: 312-828-9162
Houston: 713-961-4915
San Francisco: 415-346-9700
You can also send an email (or many) to Egyptian government officials using the handy widget here.
Bad news: the Gaza Freedom March has not gotten a "green light." Yet. We too are bringing desperately needed humanitarian aid valued at tens of thousands of dollars, including medical supplies, school supplies (even basics like paper and pencils are scarce in Gaza) and winter coats (winters in Gaza are cold and rainy, particularly miserable if you're one of the estimated 40,000 people whose home was damaged or destroyed.) In light of the excellent news about Viva Palestina, we have formally contacted the Egyptian government requesting the same consideration. We have not heard anything yet. But...
Good news: the organizers are reporting that Egyptian embassies around the world have been "besieged" (quite appropriately!) with calls supporting the march. Apparently the switchboard operators in the DC embassy complained that they "cannot conduct normal business," which is awesome.
As delegates from around the world start to board plans headed for Cairo, it is especially important for our supporters to keep the pressure on. Please continue to call Egyptian embassies and consulates and POLITELY but firmly insist that Egypt open the Rafah crossing for the Gaza Freedom March. You can stress the humanitarian nature of our mission and the fact that we are trying to do what a coalition of 16 prominent NGOs say the international community has failed to do in the last year: bring real relief and show solidarity with the people of Gaza.
The numbers to call are:
Egyptian Embassy in DC: 202-895-4500 (ask for Omar Youssef)
NYC: 212-759-7120, 212-759-2171
Chicago: 312-828-9162
Houston: 713-961-4915
San Francisco: 415-346-9700
You can also send an email (or many) to Egyptian government officials using the handy widget here.
Monday, December 21, 2009
gaza freedom march UPDATE!
We got word this morning, that, despite the organizers' tireless efforts to work with the Egyptian government to make the passage of our delegation of 1,360 internationals from 43 countries into Gaza as smooth as possible, Egypt has decided to ban the Gaza Freedom March. They have informed us that the border will be "closed" until some time in January due to "escalating tensions." You can read the official Code Pink press release here.
Of course, the border was technically "closed" the last time we were there, too, and isn't it nice how tensions always seem to escalate so conveniently when international solidarity delegations want to cross?
This is far from the first time Egypt has tried to intimidate a group of activists out of crossing into Gaza. A Canadian delegation was surrounded by riot cops and held at gunpoint on the road across Sinai; the July Viva Palestina convoy was physically stopped on the bridge over the Suez Canal and turned back to Cairo. Both of these delegations got into Gaza by being calm, persistent, and calling on international support.
The only way to deal with intimidation is to refuse to be intimidated. We are not backing down. We are still going. But we need your help!
If you are in the US, please call the Egyptian Embassy in DC or your nearest Egyptian consulate. Hey, call all of them while you're at it. You can (calmly) ask them to allow the Gaza Freedom March to proceed into Gaza. Let them know we are bringing medical aid and school supplies, and wish only to nonviolently express our solidarity with the besieged people of Gaza. Ask them to have the same courage we do: to stand with the people of Gaza against US and Israeli threats and pressure.
Here are the numbers:
Egyptian Embassy in DC: 202-895-4500 (ask for Omar Youssef)
NYC: 212-759-7120, 212-759-2171
Chicago: 312-828-9162
Houston: 713-961-4915
San Francisco: 415-346-9700
If you are outside the US, you can find a complete list of Egyptian diplomatic posts here.
VIVA PALESTINA! WE WILL BREAK THE SIEGE!
Of course, the border was technically "closed" the last time we were there, too, and isn't it nice how tensions always seem to escalate so conveniently when international solidarity delegations want to cross?
This is far from the first time Egypt has tried to intimidate a group of activists out of crossing into Gaza. A Canadian delegation was surrounded by riot cops and held at gunpoint on the road across Sinai; the July Viva Palestina convoy was physically stopped on the bridge over the Suez Canal and turned back to Cairo. Both of these delegations got into Gaza by being calm, persistent, and calling on international support.
The only way to deal with intimidation is to refuse to be intimidated. We are not backing down. We are still going. But we need your help!
If you are in the US, please call the Egyptian Embassy in DC or your nearest Egyptian consulate. Hey, call all of them while you're at it. You can (calmly) ask them to allow the Gaza Freedom March to proceed into Gaza. Let them know we are bringing medical aid and school supplies, and wish only to nonviolently express our solidarity with the besieged people of Gaza. Ask them to have the same courage we do: to stand with the people of Gaza against US and Israeli threats and pressure.
Here are the numbers:
Egyptian Embassy in DC: 202-895-4500 (ask for Omar Youssef)
NYC: 212-759-7120, 212-759-2171
Chicago: 312-828-9162
Houston: 713-961-4915
San Francisco: 415-346-9700
If you are outside the US, you can find a complete list of Egyptian diplomatic posts here.
VIVA PALESTINA! WE WILL BREAK THE SIEGE!
i had no idea
Poking around the excellent Mondoweiss today, I came across this short video that was recorded on the previous delegation to Gaza I was on in May/June, in which blog author Philip Weiss interviews longtime activist Dennis James in the lovely indoor/outdoor restaurant at Marna House, where I sat up late on my last night in Gaza listening to shelling.
Dennis said something which I have heard a lot of people who have traveled to Palestine express, including veteran activists, something which I've felt myself. Multiple times during the six-minute interview, he says, in regards to what he witnessed on the trip, "I had no idea."
One of the things I am still sorting through as I get ready for my second trip to Gaza is just how utterly unprepared I was for what I saw there. It took me a while to realize this truth. I thought I knew what to expect. I had no idea.
I was very knowledgeable about Palestine, and completely supportive of the Palestinian cause, before I traveled there. I had read and read and read. I had watched nearly every film, documentary and fiction, shot in Palestine that I could get my hands on. I had followed news of the war daily on blogs written by activists on the ground. And still. I had no idea.
I have spent a lot of time studying state-sponsored violence and organizing against it. I am pretty familiar with the darker side of humanity. I thought I had lost my capacity to be shocked. Boy was I wrong.
After just a few hours in Gaza, I realized that, far from exaggerating the level of violence that people in the Occupied Territories face, I had vastly underestimated it. Vastly. It is staggering. At times it feels like standing in front of a tidal wave.
You can read the word disproportionate but until you're walking through a neighborhood where every house has been flattened--no, where every house has been blown up with land mines individually planted by Israeli ground troops--you don't really understand what it means.
I thought I understood occupation. I didn't. Not until I was riding down Gaza's coastal road at sunset, watching the lights of Israeli gunboats glitter in the sea on one side of the bus and the red warning lights of the eastern border blink on the other, all while listening for drones overhead. Not until I was listening to shelling and trying to imagine what it would be like to sleep under that every night. To sleep in a tent under that every night.
I thought I understood repression, violence and state terror. I was not prepared. For the shattered American International School, the destroyed parliament building, for the piles of rubble that appear without warning in the middle of a block, that used to be a home or a shop or a police station. For sitting in a meeting with family members of detainees, women and small children holding pictures of their family members who are prisoners in Israeli jails, facing their pain and feeling powerless beyond description. At that meeting, I happened to be sitting next to an ISM activist who leaned over to me and said at one point: "I feel ashamed, because I was arrested in the West Bank and I only spent one day in jail." I knew exactly what he meant.
I thought I understood resistance. Blessedly, I had no idea. I had no idea how extraordinary the human capacity to stand up to violence is, what fearsome weapons political will and solidarity can be, how amazingly powerful small acts of resistance can become. A flag planted on a pile of rubble, the Islamic University student who talked about her brother, a volunteer medic killed during the war, and said "they killed my brother but they can't kill our dreams," even something as simple as a cup of tea, offered by someone standing beside the ruins of their home.
In Palestine you will see how cruel people can be, but also how strong--how brave and sweet and loving and resourceful and creative and resilient and defiant and human. You will understand exactly how much violence oppressors can deliver--and exactly how much power the oppressed have to defeat it. You'll realize that human beings can do anything.
Dennis said something which I have heard a lot of people who have traveled to Palestine express, including veteran activists, something which I've felt myself. Multiple times during the six-minute interview, he says, in regards to what he witnessed on the trip, "I had no idea."
One of the things I am still sorting through as I get ready for my second trip to Gaza is just how utterly unprepared I was for what I saw there. It took me a while to realize this truth. I thought I knew what to expect. I had no idea.
I was very knowledgeable about Palestine, and completely supportive of the Palestinian cause, before I traveled there. I had read and read and read. I had watched nearly every film, documentary and fiction, shot in Palestine that I could get my hands on. I had followed news of the war daily on blogs written by activists on the ground. And still. I had no idea.
I have spent a lot of time studying state-sponsored violence and organizing against it. I am pretty familiar with the darker side of humanity. I thought I had lost my capacity to be shocked. Boy was I wrong.
After just a few hours in Gaza, I realized that, far from exaggerating the level of violence that people in the Occupied Territories face, I had vastly underestimated it. Vastly. It is staggering. At times it feels like standing in front of a tidal wave.
You can read the word disproportionate but until you're walking through a neighborhood where every house has been flattened--no, where every house has been blown up with land mines individually planted by Israeli ground troops--you don't really understand what it means.
I thought I understood occupation. I didn't. Not until I was riding down Gaza's coastal road at sunset, watching the lights of Israeli gunboats glitter in the sea on one side of the bus and the red warning lights of the eastern border blink on the other, all while listening for drones overhead. Not until I was listening to shelling and trying to imagine what it would be like to sleep under that every night. To sleep in a tent under that every night.
I thought I understood repression, violence and state terror. I was not prepared. For the shattered American International School, the destroyed parliament building, for the piles of rubble that appear without warning in the middle of a block, that used to be a home or a shop or a police station. For sitting in a meeting with family members of detainees, women and small children holding pictures of their family members who are prisoners in Israeli jails, facing their pain and feeling powerless beyond description. At that meeting, I happened to be sitting next to an ISM activist who leaned over to me and said at one point: "I feel ashamed, because I was arrested in the West Bank and I only spent one day in jail." I knew exactly what he meant.
I thought I understood resistance. Blessedly, I had no idea. I had no idea how extraordinary the human capacity to stand up to violence is, what fearsome weapons political will and solidarity can be, how amazingly powerful small acts of resistance can become. A flag planted on a pile of rubble, the Islamic University student who talked about her brother, a volunteer medic killed during the war, and said "they killed my brother but they can't kill our dreams," even something as simple as a cup of tea, offered by someone standing beside the ruins of their home.
In Palestine you will see how cruel people can be, but also how strong--how brave and sweet and loving and resourceful and creative and resilient and defiant and human. You will understand exactly how much violence oppressors can deliver--and exactly how much power the oppressed have to defeat it. You'll realize that human beings can do anything.
Friday, December 18, 2009
done. ish.
Grand total for the semester:
3 features (2 first drafts, 1 serious rewrite)
326 pages of script (net)
21 page research paper
2 class presentations
3 talks on Gaza
1 departmental assistantship with plenty of its own charms that aren't appropriate to go into on this blog
It was insane, and at times I became convinced it was physically impossible, but I did it.
Of course, it doesn't really feel like anything's over, since at my last formal commitment of the semester, a rewrite class on Wednesday, I got loads of notes on Gaza Sunrise, many helpful, others eminently frustrating. And I am leaving in four days, to spend four days in Baltimore and then a week in Gaza on the Gaza Freedom March, after which it's back to LA with less than a week before classes start again.
On the one hand, I can't imagine that next semester could possibly be harder than this. On the other hand, next semester I'll be graduating, a thought that conjures up a giant ball of stress and uncertainty that I imagine looking something like the giant ball of evil in The Fifth Element.
I keep waiting for the sense of triumph that you'd think would be due to me for conquering the semester from hell. It hasn't arrived yet.
But on the bright side, I finally got around to watching some Battlestar Galactica, and damn is it awesome.
3 features (2 first drafts, 1 serious rewrite)
326 pages of script (net)
21 page research paper
2 class presentations
3 talks on Gaza
1 departmental assistantship with plenty of its own charms that aren't appropriate to go into on this blog
It was insane, and at times I became convinced it was physically impossible, but I did it.
Of course, it doesn't really feel like anything's over, since at my last formal commitment of the semester, a rewrite class on Wednesday, I got loads of notes on Gaza Sunrise, many helpful, others eminently frustrating. And I am leaving in four days, to spend four days in Baltimore and then a week in Gaza on the Gaza Freedom March, after which it's back to LA with less than a week before classes start again.
On the one hand, I can't imagine that next semester could possibly be harder than this. On the other hand, next semester I'll be graduating, a thought that conjures up a giant ball of stress and uncertainty that I imagine looking something like the giant ball of evil in The Fifth Element.
I keep waiting for the sense of triumph that you'd think would be due to me for conquering the semester from hell. It hasn't arrived yet.
But on the bright side, I finally got around to watching some Battlestar Galactica, and damn is it awesome.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
occupation, apartheid and ethnic cleansing: what's in a name?
Around the time I was in Gaza, the Israeli military patrols along the Strip's eastern border had discovered a new pastime. They were setting Gazan farmers' fields on fire. They would wait until the grain was crackling dry, almost ready to be harvested, after the farmers had spent months tending their fields under constant threat of being shot at by these very same patrols. Then they'd roll along and firebomb the fields.
There are many, many things that Israel attempts to justify under the guise of "security." The wall, the checkpoints, the constant surveillance and control of Palestinian movement, buffer zones, air strikes, demolishing homes and destroying olive groves, house raids, arrests and torture. You may argue--correctly--that none of these things actually make Israeli civilians any safer, to say nothing of the Palestinians who are the victims of such abuses. But if you buy into the idea that Israel needs to defend itself from the resistance it itself has created...well, you can sort of see the logic.
But then there are things like this. There is just no possible military justification for setting somebody's crops on fire. That's not to say that if there were a military justification, specious or otherwise, it would all be okay. But I do think it's reasonable to assume that most Israeli soldiers believe their actions to be rational and justified in the name of Israel's security. Which makes me really wonder what was going through these particular soldiers' heads as they lobbed incendiary bombs onto the scant agricultural land of a starving, imprisoned population.
All occupations and colonial situations involve immense levels of violence, racism, and dehumanization of the oppressed. But I think many people familiar with Palestine will admit that Israeli colonialism brings with it a particular viciousness that demands a particular explanation. How are we to understand this action, or any of the countless other Israeli policies--from destroying Palestinian wells and rain-water cisterns to denying imports of chocolate to Gaza--that seem to exist out of nothing more than sheer, deliberate, calculated cruelty?
There are two possible explanations. One is racist: that Israelis are just inherently mean people. But saying all Israelis are sadistic bastards (while that may certainly appear to be true if you live in the Occupied Territories) is really no better than saying all Palestinians are fanatical terrorists, right?
The other explanation is that there is an intentional program of ethnic cleansing going on in Palestine--that the utterly ruthless way in which Israel attacks every possible facet of Palestinian society and daily life is part of a conscious plan to make life so unbearable for the Palestinians that they leave. The staggering level of brutality, and its thoroughly deliberate and calculated nature, can only be understood as actions carried out by people who see their claim to the land as superior to all others and refuse to acknowledge Palestinians as equal human beings.
Many comparisons have been made between Israel and apartheid South Africa. Those comparisons are absolutely valid--particularly the comparison between South Africa's Bantustans and all currently proposed models for a Palestinian state. The Palestine solidarity movement should absolutely continue to make those comparisons, because apartheid is a system that was de-legitimized by an international solidarity movement working in coordination with a national liberation struggle inside South Africa. Apartheid is now internationally not cool, thanks to the work of those movements. Zionism has yet to be de-legitimized in the same way, although it needs to be if any just solution is to be implemented in Palestine.
But the reality is that Israel has developed its own unique and particularly virulent strain of settler colonialism, one that goes much farther than South Africa's white supremacists ever dreamed. From its inception in the false idea of Palestine as "a land without people for a people without a land," Zionism has always had a genocidal edge that seeks to deny the existence of the Palestinians as a people--and, if necessary, create that reality on the ground. It is these aggressive, expansionist, exclusionary and exterminatory tendencies in Zionism--tendencies that slide straight into fascism at their most extreme--that make Israeli colonialism so particularly vicious, unstable and dangerous a system.
I recently had a debate with a fellow traveler about whether using terms like "ethnic cleansing" and "genocide" was useful in discussions about Palestine with folks who may just be beginning to understand that the Palestinians are the oppressed group in the situation, even if we-who-know-the-score agree that what's going on in Palestine IS ethnic cleansing and genocide. I think it is not only correct, but vitally important.
I think the most basic job of the left is to tell the truth, which those in power often have an interest in obscuring. By not calling something what it is, we are doing a disservice to ourselves, by muddying our own understanding of the situation; to those we are trying to persuade, by not giving them a full and accurate picture of the massive crimes taking place; and to those we stand in solidarity with, by assuming that the reality they live every day needs to be watered down for an outside audience. In the case of this particular issue, we are also giving in to the mainstream narrative that seeks to normalize Israel as a democratic state responding to terrorist threats, instead of an ethnocentric colonial entity that was built on the dispossession and expulsion of the indigenous population, a process that continues to this day.
As usual, Israelis themselves are more clear-eyed about this issue than the American left. A majority of Israelis not only believe that what's going on in the Occupied Territories is ethnic cleansing--they support it. A new poll recently revealed that 53% of Israelis surveyed support "transfer"--the forcible mass expulsion of the Palestinian population of the Occupied Territories (and, many fear, of the Palestinian minority inside Israel as well.) In fact, transfer--that is, finishing the job of ethnic cleansing that was started in 1948--is now the most popular "solution" to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict among Israelis. This is a significant, and frightening, hardening of Israeli racism that is essential for Americans to understand.
After visiting Gaza, two things are absolutely, inescapably clear to me. One: what Israel is doing is a calculated, conscious and systematic program of ethnic cleansing. Two: the Palestinians will never give up. This means that the situation is fundamentally unstable and can only be permanently resolved in one of two ways--equality or genocide. A resolution on the side of equality--the dismantling of Israel as an exclusionist state and the creation of a home for all people, regardless of race or religion, in all of historic Palestine--is far from impossible, but it is also far from guaranteed.
It is crucial that Americans and other internationals in solidarity with Palestine understand exactly what it is we are fighting against, and exactly how high the stakes are. Palestinians, I have no doubt, are already quite aware. Unless we are able to look Israel's true nature in the face, unless we truly understand what it is we are facing, how can we expect to comprehend what it will take to win?
There are many, many things that Israel attempts to justify under the guise of "security." The wall, the checkpoints, the constant surveillance and control of Palestinian movement, buffer zones, air strikes, demolishing homes and destroying olive groves, house raids, arrests and torture. You may argue--correctly--that none of these things actually make Israeli civilians any safer, to say nothing of the Palestinians who are the victims of such abuses. But if you buy into the idea that Israel needs to defend itself from the resistance it itself has created...well, you can sort of see the logic.
But then there are things like this. There is just no possible military justification for setting somebody's crops on fire. That's not to say that if there were a military justification, specious or otherwise, it would all be okay. But I do think it's reasonable to assume that most Israeli soldiers believe their actions to be rational and justified in the name of Israel's security. Which makes me really wonder what was going through these particular soldiers' heads as they lobbed incendiary bombs onto the scant agricultural land of a starving, imprisoned population.
All occupations and colonial situations involve immense levels of violence, racism, and dehumanization of the oppressed. But I think many people familiar with Palestine will admit that Israeli colonialism brings with it a particular viciousness that demands a particular explanation. How are we to understand this action, or any of the countless other Israeli policies--from destroying Palestinian wells and rain-water cisterns to denying imports of chocolate to Gaza--that seem to exist out of nothing more than sheer, deliberate, calculated cruelty?
There are two possible explanations. One is racist: that Israelis are just inherently mean people. But saying all Israelis are sadistic bastards (while that may certainly appear to be true if you live in the Occupied Territories) is really no better than saying all Palestinians are fanatical terrorists, right?
The other explanation is that there is an intentional program of ethnic cleansing going on in Palestine--that the utterly ruthless way in which Israel attacks every possible facet of Palestinian society and daily life is part of a conscious plan to make life so unbearable for the Palestinians that they leave. The staggering level of brutality, and its thoroughly deliberate and calculated nature, can only be understood as actions carried out by people who see their claim to the land as superior to all others and refuse to acknowledge Palestinians as equal human beings.
Many comparisons have been made between Israel and apartheid South Africa. Those comparisons are absolutely valid--particularly the comparison between South Africa's Bantustans and all currently proposed models for a Palestinian state. The Palestine solidarity movement should absolutely continue to make those comparisons, because apartheid is a system that was de-legitimized by an international solidarity movement working in coordination with a national liberation struggle inside South Africa. Apartheid is now internationally not cool, thanks to the work of those movements. Zionism has yet to be de-legitimized in the same way, although it needs to be if any just solution is to be implemented in Palestine.
But the reality is that Israel has developed its own unique and particularly virulent strain of settler colonialism, one that goes much farther than South Africa's white supremacists ever dreamed. From its inception in the false idea of Palestine as "a land without people for a people without a land," Zionism has always had a genocidal edge that seeks to deny the existence of the Palestinians as a people--and, if necessary, create that reality on the ground. It is these aggressive, expansionist, exclusionary and exterminatory tendencies in Zionism--tendencies that slide straight into fascism at their most extreme--that make Israeli colonialism so particularly vicious, unstable and dangerous a system.
I recently had a debate with a fellow traveler about whether using terms like "ethnic cleansing" and "genocide" was useful in discussions about Palestine with folks who may just be beginning to understand that the Palestinians are the oppressed group in the situation, even if we-who-know-the-score agree that what's going on in Palestine IS ethnic cleansing and genocide. I think it is not only correct, but vitally important.
I think the most basic job of the left is to tell the truth, which those in power often have an interest in obscuring. By not calling something what it is, we are doing a disservice to ourselves, by muddying our own understanding of the situation; to those we are trying to persuade, by not giving them a full and accurate picture of the massive crimes taking place; and to those we stand in solidarity with, by assuming that the reality they live every day needs to be watered down for an outside audience. In the case of this particular issue, we are also giving in to the mainstream narrative that seeks to normalize Israel as a democratic state responding to terrorist threats, instead of an ethnocentric colonial entity that was built on the dispossession and expulsion of the indigenous population, a process that continues to this day.
As usual, Israelis themselves are more clear-eyed about this issue than the American left. A majority of Israelis not only believe that what's going on in the Occupied Territories is ethnic cleansing--they support it. A new poll recently revealed that 53% of Israelis surveyed support "transfer"--the forcible mass expulsion of the Palestinian population of the Occupied Territories (and, many fear, of the Palestinian minority inside Israel as well.) In fact, transfer--that is, finishing the job of ethnic cleansing that was started in 1948--is now the most popular "solution" to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict among Israelis. This is a significant, and frightening, hardening of Israeli racism that is essential for Americans to understand.
After visiting Gaza, two things are absolutely, inescapably clear to me. One: what Israel is doing is a calculated, conscious and systematic program of ethnic cleansing. Two: the Palestinians will never give up. This means that the situation is fundamentally unstable and can only be permanently resolved in one of two ways--equality or genocide. A resolution on the side of equality--the dismantling of Israel as an exclusionist state and the creation of a home for all people, regardless of race or religion, in all of historic Palestine--is far from impossible, but it is also far from guaranteed.
It is crucial that Americans and other internationals in solidarity with Palestine understand exactly what it is we are fighting against, and exactly how high the stakes are. Palestinians, I have no doubt, are already quite aware. Unless we are able to look Israel's true nature in the face, unless we truly understand what it is we are facing, how can we expect to comprehend what it will take to win?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)