Author Archives: Jon Simons

Obama and the Hope for Peace

Memorial in Rabin Square

Memorial in Rabin Square

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Since 6th February, 2013, 20,000 people have signed up to a Facebook campaign calling on US President Barack Obama to address the Israeli people from Rabin Square during his upcoming visit to Israel next month. What does this direct, socially-mediated call to Obama mean? What do those Israelis want from Obama? The answers to those questions are simultaneously encouraging and dispiriting, indicating both grounds for hope and despair.

To begin with, there is the powerful symbolism of Obama speaking form the same platform as former Israeli Prime Minister, Yitzhak Rabin, did on the night he was assassinated by a right-wing extremist on 5th November, 1995. The large square in central Tel Aviv, formerly known as Kings of Israel Square, was renamed after Rabin following his murder, and a small group still visits the memorial to Rabin at the side of the square, on the spot where he was shot in the back, after addressing a large pro-peace rally. Israeli public support for the Oslo process, fiercely contested by the settler movement and Israeli right-wing, as well as Hamas and Islamic Jihad on the Palestinian side was waning at the time. The key slogan for the rally was: ‘yes to peace, no to violence’, but violence prevailed. Whether or not the terrorist’s shots killed the Oslo peace along with Rabin is another question, but that is how it seemed to those Israelis who saw in Rabin’s death the sacrifice of an idealized ‘warrior for peace’ and the embodiment of the Jewish Israeli public who had voted for him – largely Ashkenazi, middle class, educated, secular, and culturally hegemonic. The mourning for this idealized figure became melancholic, becoming an ongoing state of being, in which love was not redirected to another champion of peace (or peace initiative), but wrapped up in narcissistic identification with the lost object. In brief, some of the symbolism of Obama speaking from Rabin’s platform refers to melancholic mourning in which the loss of peace is mourned, but peace is not pursued actively.

Yet, perhaps if Obama speaks from Rabin’s platform, all that emotional investment in mourning peace will instead be transferred to Obama. Perhaps Obama will bring the peace that Rabin was prevented from making. Such hopes were attached to Obama on his election in 2008, among others by veteran peace activist Uri Avnery in his weekly column. Not coincidentally, the peace group that Avnery heads, Gush Shalom, published a notice on 8th February 2013 in the Ha’aretz newspaper (as it does each week) that repeats the expectation that Obama will sort things out for Israel: ‘President Obama/Will ask for/Clear answers/On Peace, The Palestinian state, Occupation and settlements’. Obama’s political image, especially in those thrilling days of 2008, is one of hope. The Facebook campaign for Obama to speak for peace in Rabin Square is a campaign for hope that peace, not mourning for its loss, can fill Israeli hearts again. Obama can be our leader, another Moses, an African prince found in the bull rushes who will lead us to the Promised Land. I’d like to believe that myself. He could even Hebraize his name for the role, becoming Baruch Ben Ami.

But from the start, the expectations for Obama’s visit and progress to peace should realistically have been kept low. On 5th February 2013 the New York Times reported that the US president was ‘not expected to unveil concrete proposals for bringing Israelis and Palestinians together during his visit or initiate a specific new peace process’. The prevailing opinion is that on the agenda for his visit will be the ‘burning issues’ of the Iranian nuclear programme, the civil war in Syria, leaving the question of Palestinian-Israeli peace further down the list of priorities. Writing in Challenge, an on-line magazine, on 17th February 2013, Yaacov Ben Efrat of Israel’s Daam Party remarked that: ‘When Obama reaches P[alestinian] A[uthority] territory, he will see that his policy of appeasing the Israeli right has nearly killed the PA’. Obama has already been burned by the Palestinian issue and won’t want to take up the challenge again. Obama may utter some vague, uplifting phrases about peace, but offer no practical means to achieve it.

Ben Efrat also wrote that: ‘it will not be long until the unrest in the West Bank becomes palpable to the Israeli public on its side of the wall’. In the last few days, that is precisely what has happened, with Palestinian protests over the prisoners’ hunger strike, the death in custody of Arafat Jaradat, and the flare of up the regular clashes with violent, armed settlers, as explained by Noam Sheizaf in the +972 blog. The sidelining of peace, of the daily travails of the occupation for Palestinians, of the routine violence of extremist settlers and the institutionalised violence of the Israeli occupation forces and the settlement process, from Obama’s visit agenda may be overtaken by events. Precisely because of the expectations raised by a presidential visit, Palestinian protestors have good reason to show that they have not gone away, that their frustrations have not dissipated, that occupation is the burning issue, that peace is urgent. Interviewed on Israel Channel 2 news on 24th February 2013 about the unrest, PA official Jibril Rajoub called on Israel to make a clear choice – for peace and security, or settlements and annexation. ‘Don’t expect us to come with a white flag’, he said, ‘We are a people living, existing under a cruel, racist occupation for 46 years, which brings shame on Jewish history. Enough! Enough! Enough!’ There is nothing Obama could say to the Israeli who want to hear from him that is clearer about the need to end the occupation and move to peace than that.

Taking Responsibility for Violence

30 Year Commemoration of Emil Grunzweig's murder. Photo by Peace Now.

30 Year Commemoration of Emil Grunzweig’s murder. Photo by Peace Now.

Last Sunday marked the 30th anniversary of the murder of Emil Grunzweig, a Peace Now activist who was killed when a right-wing extremist threw a hand grenade at the close of a stormy demonstration. Two days earlier, the Kahan commission, which had been charged by the Israeli government with uncovering the factors leading to the massacre of Palestinian refugees in the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps in Beirut the previous September, had announced its findings. It held the then Defence Minister Ariel Sharon indirectly responsible for the mass murder perpetrated by Christian Phalangist forces, calling for his dismissal. Peace Now had been actively opposing Israel’s invasion of Lebanon since a couple of weeks after it began in June 1982. This was the first time that Peace Now had criticised the government’s deployment of its armed citizenry at a time of war. As Israeli forces advanced well beyond the 40km limit declared initially for ‘Operation Peace for Galilee’, Peace Now rallied 100,000 demonstrators in Tel Aviv under the slogan ‘What are we killing for?  What are we being killed for?’ Following the massacre, the movement mobilised its largest ever demonstration on 25 September, attended by a legendary crowd of 400,000. But there was by no means a public Israeli consensus against the war, there being many ardent, vocal supporters of Sharon’s war, for whom Peace Now were traitors.

So on that fateful night when Emil went out to demonstrate, he and the other 10,000 marchers had to pass, on their way from Zion Square to the Prime Minister’s office, a gauntlet of spitting, kicking, punching, missile-throwing, pushing, banner and torch-snatching, hateful counter-demonstrators, some of whom accused the Peace Now women of dishonouring the nation because of their love for Arabs. The last photograph of Emil alive shows him at the front of the demonstration, arms linked with other reserve paratroopers who were Peace Now activists, forging a way through the crowd for the demonstrators. Emil Grunzweig, in the Demonstration in which he was assassinated.   Photo: Vardi Kahana Emil Grunzweig, in the Demonstration in which he was assassinated. Photo: Vardi Kahana[/caption]

Prof. Yaron Ezrahi speaking at Emil Grunzweig's 30 year commemoration.Photo by Peace Now

Prof. Yaron Ezrahi speaking at Emil Grunzweig’s 30 year commemoration. Photo by Peace Now

Yaron initially felt the impulse to participate in the elevation of Emil to a hero of the peace movement, but then, as did the rest of the Peace Now leadership, settled back into their regular mode of opposition to the mythmaking of the right. Although Emil’s memory was preserved through regular commemorative seminars about democracy and human rights, as well as the establishment of the Adam Institute for Democracy and Peace, perhaps the peace movement could have done with its own mythical martyr before Rabin’s assassination in November 1995. Orit Kamir wrote in Ha’aretz that the 30 year event was attended mostly by silver-haired pensioners. Emil has been largely forgotten by Israeli society; the trauma of the civil violence of his death in 1983 seems to have been repressed, actively forgotten.

But Niva Grunzweig has not forgotten her father, and in her speech at the commemoration knew to connect between the violence of her father’s murder, as he exercised his democratic right, and the state’s inaction against the political culture of incitement that led to his murder. More than that, she pointed to the affinity of the act of political violence that cost her father his life, and the daily violence exercised by the current Israeli state that delegitimizes all ‘leftist’ criticism as a danger to the state. Most significantly, she sees the connection between the violence through which the state was established and its ongoing violence towards its dissenting citizens and the non-citizens over whom it rules. As in the Peace Now slogan against the 1982 war to which Emil rallied, his daughter reminded us that a state that demands that we kill for it will also kill us. She imagines for us a saner future, imagining that the state take responsibility for its violence, and seek the forgiveness of its citizens and non-citizens by renouncing such violence. Peace, like sanity, might come to us by taking responsibility for the political violence of the state, the violence perpetrated in our name. All that Niva asks is that her children grow up in a state where they can expect their parents to come back alive from demonstrations against the government, to not be orphaned by state violence. All that she asks is the sanity that is peace.