Hasbara (Hebrew for “explanation” or “propaganda”) is a tactic used mostly on campuses to disseminate misinformation hiding or distracting from the crimes committed by the apartheid State of Israel. Hasbara seeks to influence mass audiences explaining these actions and policies, despite the fact that many are violations of international law, UN Resolution and are ethically unjustifiable.
This is a safe space for all people: actively working against expressions of sexism, racism, homophobia, anti-Semitism, ableism, Islamophobia or other forms of oppressive behaviour. That said, this is a bullshit free space and I have no illusions about or interest in “tolerating” crap.Anti-Hasbara
— Shiri Eisner, Love, Rage and the Occupation: Bisexual politics in Israel/Palestine (via lgbtqblogs)
If Israeli Jews were attempting to kill all Palestinians, why would 20% of the Israeli population be Palestinian Israeli citizens? Yes, there is discrimination and stigmatization in Israel proper, but that’s not genocide.
Why, if the goal is to kill all Palestinians, do you think the IDF isn’t targeting the Palestinians in the West Bank? Why do you think Gaza is the focus?
Regardless of how inefficient you think the warnings the IDF sends out are, why would anyone seeking genocide send out any warnings at all? Why do you think Israel, with its powerful army, hasn’t already obliterated Gaza?
If the end goal is genocide, then why has Israel provided humanitarian aid to Palestinians? Water? Electricity?
Here’s the thing: death on a large scale is horrifying, but it doesn’t automatically constitute genocide. The deaths in Gaza are tragic, and I want nothing more than for the violence to end, but words have meanings.
Calling it genocide erases the ideological component of genocide. It’s either an ignorant, lazy, sloppy analysis of the situation at hand (which makes you seem uneducated, and makes me far less likely to take anything you have to say seriously), or it comes from a far more sinister motive of deliberately comparing Jews to Nazis. That is not powerful; it is anti-Semitic.
Genocide requires ideology. I mean hey, maybe if the IDF had a charter that said something like, 'the Day of Judgement will not come about until Jews fight the Muslims, when the Muslim will hide behind stones and trees. The stones and trees will say O Jews, there is a Muslim behind me, come and kill him,' I’d see your point. But we aren’t the ones with a charter that says that. (Article 7)
Let’s work through the zionist propaganda at play in this post.
Firstly, the internationally recognized definition of genocide is found in Article II of the Genocide Convention, which reads:
In the present Convention, genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such :
(a) Killing members of the group;
(b) Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
(c) Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to
bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;
(d) Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;
(e) Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.
As is apparent, it specifically states that it need not be the entire population that is targeted — i.e. even if only one segment is targeted for mass killings, it is still genocide. So just because Palestinians inside so-called Israel are not subject to systematic killings does not change the fact that what is happening in Gaza is genocide.
As for the manner of the killings, to ask why Israel doesn’t just kill all the Gazans is to demonstrate how little the OP understands about the nature of genocide. For example, the Bosnia Genocide took place Srebrenica and Žepa in 1995, even though the war had been going on for three years previously. The massacre resulted in the deaths of around 8,500 people, most men and boys. This number, as horrifying as it is, does not constitute the entirety of the Bosnian people nor even the entirety of the towns of Srebrenica and Žepa, but it was no less a genocide committed by Serb nationalists against a largely defenseless population. Similarly, the 2200 Palestinians may not be a significant portion of our population as a whole, but they were still murdered simply because of their ethnicity and their location inside of Gaza.
Now one of the key components of genocide is intent. The OP hints at this with the claim that there is no ideological component to the massacre that Israel perpetrated in Gaza. Unfortunately, this claim is false. There have many reports of Israeli demonstrations during which the main chant is “Mavet la-Aravim” (Death to the Arabs). This is one of the latest examples, and googling the phrase will turn up many results over the years. More importantly, over the past two months we have seen repeated calls in prominent newspapers from government officials and others “to suspend the laws of war,” to attack the entire Gaza Strip with no consideration for civilian casualties, describing the entire Palestinian people as the enemy and Palestinian mothers as snakes, and so on. The notion that Israelis are not calling for genocide or that genocidal intent plays no role in Israel’s actions is belied by the words of zionists themselves.
What Israel perpetrated in Gaza these past 7 weeks was genocide by every definition of the word. To deny that and to accuse people who describe it as such of bigotry is obscene.
Oussama Diab, New Pieta, 2012
"New Pieta" reconfigures Michaelangelo’s "Pieta" sculpture, but adds a keffiyah to Jesus Christ to show him as a Palestinian rebel. "Mary here is the mother of all Palestinian martyrs. Every day there’s a new Jesus Christ in Palestine. Every day there’s a new Mother Mary crying for her Jesus Christ."
What is happening in Ferguson - and the solidarity people from Palestine are expressing - is exactly what Angela Davis has been talking about. The internationalization of these oppressive structures. The prison industrial complex does not exist in a vacuum. Police brutality doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Apartheid doesn’t exist in a vacuum. These oppressive structures are interconnected.
This is why whenever I’ve seen her speak on the PIC or on feminism and abolition, she’s always connected it to Palestine. Global connections. When she was imprisoned in the 70s, in solitary confinement in an American prison, a Palestinian political prisoner in an Israeli jail sent her a message of solidarity - it was smuggled out of that Israeli cell an into Davis’ cell. Do we not see parallels of that today in those tweets sharing tips on how to deal with police brutality?
The struggles are distinct. Specific to specific communities. But the structures are interconnected. What does it say for American police to be trained by and often armed by the IDF; what does it say for weapons to be tested on Palestinians and then sold to the rest of the world; what does it say for military and prisons to both be privatized to this extent; what does it say for neoliberal institutions like the IMF and the world bank to be supporting private prisons as replacements of state functions in developing countries? We have to have attention to detail and we have to also be able to look at this in a larger framework.
I’m sorry but this is a completely misinformed and biased post.
The Israeli Defense Force (IDF) does not “test weapons on Palestinians” and then sell them to the rest of the world. By saying this you’re not only misleading and misinforming the Internet, with absolutely no basis and no back-up except your own mindless opinions and observations, but you are disrespecting an entire nation and country and belittling the lives of countless loss civilians and soldiers ON BOTH SIDES OF THE ISRAELI-PALESTINIAN CONFLICT.
First of all, the IDF is one of the most humane military forces in the world. Here are some resources WITH PROOF that justify why:
- The IDF drops flyers/leaflets to the civilian areas of Gaza before it strikes so as to avoid any casualties
- They also send text message ahead for the same reason and to warn any innocents to not affiliate with Hamas or venture into any known Hamas territory, a known-terrorist group
Also, if anything Israel as a country is one of the LEAST apartheid countries in the world. Israel goes out of its way to offer freedom and equality to ALL its citizens, Palestinian and Israeli alike. You can ask thousands of Palestinians currently living in Israel today. Here are some more resources:
- A full, detailed, and justified website site full of more resources showing that Israel is clearly not apartheid and does not distinguish between its Palestinian and Israeli citizens
- Former South African President de Klerk (under whom segregation ended) makes an official statement about how Israel is NOT an apartheid state/and another article with the same topic (to cross reference the truth)
- Another detailed article with even more resources
- A man who suffered under real apartheid explodes the Leftist/Islamic supremacist libel that Israel is an apartheid state
There are plenty more and I could spend all day citing resources, but the truth is probably no one will ever see this, and it makes me sick.
This post already has almost 2000 notes, and people will reblog it and go on thinking everything true, and go on hating.
I completely agree with everything this person said about Ferguson. We cannot close our eyes to the blatant crime that is occurring right under our noses. The outstanding police brutality we’ve seen over the past few days is astounding, and we can’t ignore it.
But I beg ANYONE who sees this to spread this side of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. MY SIDE.
Because so many people spew hate, unbacked and unwarranted, but so few try to actually look at the facts. To see what’s going on right in front of their eyes.
Yah kiddo you’re not about to spread your Zionist propaganda on my post
- Here’s literally an entire book on discrimination and segregation is Israel
- you’ll also be thrilled to hear all kinds of accounts about how “equally” Israel treats refugees from East Africa here
- Are you actually arguing that apartheid only existed in South Africa and that unless it mirrors South Africa exactly it’s not apartheid? Because a) in many ways it’s worse and b) that was not the first time segregation occurred in this world, I’m sure given your outstanding sympathy with Ferguson, I don’t have to remind you of the US’ own history with this.
And I actually won’t even go on because you literally are arguing that Israeli genocide of Palestinians is okay because they text them ahead of time? lol txt it evacuate ur home we abt 2 bomb u?? To draw a weak analogy that you may comprehend, would it have been okay to kill Mike Brown if he had been texted about his imminent murder ahead of time?
This dissonance is mind boggling, you “agree” with me on Ferguson and we “cannot close our eyes to blatant crime” but yet still we need to share ~both sides of the story~ so your Zionist ass can feel included and accounted for? Do you think your solidarity in this regard absolves you from complicity in another? There is no balance, no two sides, no conflict. There is literally nothing leveled about this war and to even have the audacity to demand the oppressor’s narrative be told is repulsive.
You can quote however many people you want saying this isn’t apartheid, you know what that changes? Jackshit. The wall still stands 11.8 ft tall, streets and lives in the West Bank are still segregated, illegal settlements continue to be established on stolen Palestinian land, non-Jews are still second-class citizens, Gaza is still an open-air prison, close to 2,000 people are still dead in this latest assault on Gaza. So excuse me for not mentioning the Israeli that sprained an ankle while running into a bomb shelter and the motherfuckers who sat on hills in Sderot, watching the assault on Gaza from couches on hilltops but this isn’t about you and I owe you nothing. You can go on tirades on this elsewhere but don’t run your mouth on my posts with half-assed propaganda like this as if I owe any of y’all liberal fuckshits any kind of ~balance~ in discussions of situations that are inherently imbalanced
"What is your father’s name?"
"What is your father’s father’s name?"
"Where was he born?"
"You have Palestinian passport?"
"You have American passport only?"
"You have family in Ramallah?"
"You don’t have family there?”
"Who do you know in Ramallah?"
"You were born in Ramallah but you don’t know anybody there?"
"You JUST TOLD ME you were born in Ramallah."
A phone call in Hebrew I don’t understand a word of. A hostile glare.
I tell her I’m sorry, that I misheard her, I thought she was asking where my grandfather was born. He was born in Ramallah. I was born in Detroit. I have only an American passport. I am telling her this calmly, but in my mind, I am thinking I am fucked and this would all go so much more smoothly if the Israeli woman with the bad eyebrows behind the counter didn’t know my grandparents were from Palestine. Of course, the irony of the situation does not escape me. Being Palestinian is making it impossible for me to visit Palestine.
She gives me a Visitor Information Form to fill out, sends me to a grid of cold metal benches, separated by thick metal bars from the rest of the people waiting to cross into the West Bank. I don’t know why the Israelis need to know my father’s middle name, the location of my workplace in Michigan, or the address of the second cousin of the brother of the doctor of the shop owner who lived on the same street as the sister of the woman my great-great-grandfather might have met once, but I complete the form. It isn’t long before the rest of my group, thirteen other Arab-Americans, joins me. And not long after that, interrogation starts.
They take J. first. I am silently praying that she can stay strong, because I know she doesn’t know what to expect. Almost an hour later, she emerges from the tiny room, shaking, wiping tears from her eyes. They yelled at her. Accused her of lying. Told her she could be arrested. She is terrified, but she kept her composure. Already, I am full of this strange but familiar combination of rage and pride, the internal swell and crash of injustice and resistance, of indignity and resilience, of being Palestinian.
They call each of our names. They are the hardest on our boys. A. is shuttled between three different rooms, screamed at and threatened by three different officers. T., who has been leading delegations to Palestine for twenty years, warned us while we were still on the bus leaving Jordan: “Stay calm, don’t let them get to you.” We are laughing, joking, and playing games in the waiting area as the minutes tick by, as one by one, we are asked the same questions and the Israelis get the same answers. We wait, and talk, and dream of Palestine. We wait.
A baby-faced boy dressed in olive green, with a rifle slung across his shoulders, chooses to sit in the waiting area with us instead of taking C. to the interrogation rooms. “I’m sorry about this,” I hear him say. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
"I don’t even understand why we’re doing this, to be honest."
"I’m 20. This is only my second week in the IDF."
I sigh. He’s my age; seems like a sweet kid. But this is Israeli occupation, so because he is Jewish and we are Palestinian, he holds the gun and asks the questions. We can do nothing but wait.
(When it is time for iftar, for Muslims to break their daily fast during Ramadan, Baby Face sneaks N. and R. a bottle of water. We do not see him again.)
They take J. again; the same narrow-eyed woman beckons impatiently. “You know, you’re scaring her,” T. tells her.
The Israeli woman rolls her eyes, turns around. “That’s not us. That’s her personal experience. That’s personal, if someone is scared.”
We have been detained at the Israeli border crossing for hours, interrogated, accused of crimes, lied to, and threatened. There are men with guns casually wandering back and forth. The lines at the gates fill and empty, fill and empty, as we watch, waiting to be granted permission from military occupiers to enter our own homeland. That’s personal.
It is 8:30 by the time my name is called last and frankly, I’m wondering what took them so long. The woman with flat blond hair, the one who made J. cry, beckons me to follow her into a tiny room. I wink at my friends as I leave our waiting area.
She is coldly professional. I am polite. “Have a seat.” “Thank you.”
"This will be quick and easy," she says. Great.
"What is the purpose of your visit?"
"What is the group you are with?"
"What will you be doing?"
"Where will you be staying?"
"Will you be going anywhere else?"
"Will you be going to Ramallah, Nablus, or Jenin?"
"Will you be going to any refugee camps?"
"Have your leaders told you to say any specific information?"
"Was there anywhere else they said they might go?"
"Who do you know in Israel?"
"What are you doing here?"
My heart is pounding but I smile, answer calmly. Tourism; a Christian youth group; visiting holy sites; Jerusalem; maybe Bethlehem—you know, holy sites—So you’re Christian?—Yes—That’s personal; I don’t know; I don’t know; no; no; not that I know of; nobody; excuse me ma’am but what are YOU doing here? Did your great-grandparents walk this earth? Did your grandfather tell you the exact location of the fig tree he planted as a child? What are YOU doing here? Is this your home, your history? Didn’t think so.
"Are you sure," she asks, "because the consequences depend on your answers."
I am dismissed, told to stand outside with three other travelers. The blonde woman mutters to a stern-looking man, who instructs us to cross to the other side of the gate, where we cannot see or hear the other members of our group. He points for us to sit. So we sit. And we wait.
T. wanders back to our side, now with a grey sweatshirt on over the Bedouin-via-China dress she bought in Petra.”I think they’re going to deny our entry.”
I am staring down at a spot on the tile floor, a speck missed by the Black man who pushed the cleaning machine around us earlier. I know how Israel treats its African asylum seekers, and it doesn’t escape my notice that the white, European Israelis hold positions of relative power while every Black person I see has been cleaning. We have been sitting on the same metal bench, separated from the rest of our group, for at least an hour. Nobody has told us what is going on. The Israeli officer, who seems to have nothing to do but sit and watch us, spoke only to tell us not to talk to each other, the note in her voice too harsh not to defy—of course we talk to each other. We make sure she hears us laugh. Every small act of defiance feels like resistance to this occupation.
We are still waiting. T. and J. drift back and forth. They are calling the State Department, the Consulate General, waiting for our paperwork, waiting for what? It’s cold inside the Allenby border crossing, and we are tired. The Israelis eventually offer us cheap snacks. How benevolent, how generous they are.
Since I heard we may be denied entry, i am curled in my metal seat, refusing to let the words settle.
I knew before I boarded a plane to Amman that the Israeli border control could simply decide, for any or no reason, not to let me into Palestine. This is the reason I am careful in everything I do, careful to make sure I am never photographed, that I am un-google-able, that my name is not associated with Palestine solidarity activism in any way. I know they harass activists. They harass everybody. I avoid cameras and journalists. I know I am overly paranoid, but staying as anonymous as possible is just a precaution; it can’t hurt, and it sets my father’s mind at ease, as he worries constantly that even my modest activism will get me in trouble. I knew, but I didn’t think I had much to worry about. I expected questioning; I expected to be detained. This much is standard. To be denied entry is extreme, but not unheard of. So I worry, and I wait.
And I wait. The border crossing is still open, and we see a few families pass, a few single men. We are still separated from the rest of our group and from any access to information about why this is taking so long. There is nothing to do but try to make light of the dread, the weight of anxiety, the uncertainty simmering.
Finally, a young woman with a stud in her nose approaches, holding a stack of passports. N. trails behind her, catches my eye, shakes her head. Mouths the words “we’re not going.”
The Israeli woman clutches the stack of American passports, calls out a few names. Tells them they are going with her to get their luggage. Tells the rest of us to wait for our passports. More officers follow, holding our passports hostage, tell us to collect our bags & that we’re leaving. Not leaving the freezing, hostile border crossing to enter the holy land, but leaving through the door we entered from, leaving back to the no-man’s-land between the West Bank and Jordan. “You’re leaving.”
At this point, deportation doesn’t come as much of a surprise. As the words settle, as yet another thin, blonde Israeli woman approaches with my passport, J. emerges from the other side of the gate, biting her nails.
"We’re banned for five years," she says.
I stop breathing.
Banned from the place my grandparents were born, that I’ve heard endless stories and seen countless photos of, that I’ve dreamed of returning to. Forbidden to see the holy land for five years, a sentence handed down arbitrarily by bored officers who don’t know and don’t care what this means. They are laughing, flirting, leaning back in the chairs, killing time until they get off work, when they can travel freely wherever they want within historic Palestine. Our devastation is nothing to them.
I collect my bags. Later, in a hotel in Amman, I will find that the Israelis have folded all of my clothing, arranged my t-shirts and bras. The woman returns my passport, opened to page 9 to reveal a new scar.
Entry Denied. Not one but two ugly rectangular red stamps on a formerly clean page of my passport.
Five hours of waiting, of interrogation, of reassuring each other the border closes soon, they can’t keep us here forever, they just want to scare us, this is normal. Three hours is nothing. Four, average. Five, entry denied.
Banned. From my own homeland. For five years.
Standing on the street waiting for a bus to take us back to Jordan, I unwrap a piece of gum to mask the bitter taste rising in the back of my throat. A man in a plaid blue shirt and jeans lifts a semiautomatic rifle as he sees me move. Clicks the safety off. I snap a photo, trying to be discreet, as he stands with his finger on the trigger. Not discreet enough. He turns his eyes on me.
Suddenly two men appear on either side of me, speaking Hebrew-accented Arabic, switching to English when they see my blank stare. “Get your passport. Come with me. Give me the cell phone.”
I wait. “Why? Can you tell me what the problem is?” As if I don’t know the problem is the photo, the problem is the potential of sharing Israel’s brutality with the world with a click of a button.
"The security guard gonna ask you a few questions."
I’m too tired to argue, so I let them lead me away, tell them “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to take a photo, it’s just that I’ve just never seen anything like that in America.”
"Okay, erase the photo."
"You’re holding my phone. You erase the photo." He does. "Maybe you took a video too?"
"You’re holding my phone. If I took a video, you’d see it there."
He thanks me, and in some bizarre attempt to ease the tension, casually asks “So, are you going back to Jordan?”
Something in me snaps.
Of course I’m going back to Jordan. Where else am I supposed to go? You and your people just TOLD me I had to go back to Jordan. Because of you—
T. grabs my arm, pulls me away; “stay calm, don’t let them get to you,” murmured in my ear for the thousandth time today.
The man thanks me again with a smirk. i can do nothing but stare back at him.
The next few hours are surreal, blurred memory of chaos and calm. We are silent in our devastation as the reality of what has just happened settles; we are shaking with anger, jaws aching from holding back furious tears; we are in tears trying to console each other, realizing some of us may never see our elderly grandparents in Palestine again. The Jordanian tour bus wants to charge us $300 for the drive from the Israeli border across no-man’s-land back to Jordan—hardly more than one mile. We need new Jordanian visas to reenter, though we were only out beyond Jordan’s borders for a few hours. The Jordanians check our passports; we wait; they check our luggage; we wait. Chaos and calm. Rage and disbelief. Exile and acceptance.
Eventually, the Jordanian officers show some sympathy, and taxis arrive to take us back to Amman. At some point during the hour’s drive, to break the heaviest silence I have ever felt, H. points out at some distant hills. “Hatha Amman?” Our driver jerks his lead to the left, “la2, Amman hon.” Amman is over there. And on the right, where she pointed? “Hatha Falasteen.” We are so close, separated from home by just a few miles. Minutes away, but it will be five years before any of us can return.
In Amman, we flip through Arabic television channels, desperate for news. Though I can’t understand a word of the anchor’s formal Arabic, I recognize images of Palestine. A photo of a teenage boy wearing a baseball cap flashes across the screen, followed by footage of protests. Muhammad Abu Khdeir has been kidnapped and murdered by Jewish settlers. Israeli soldiers are shooting at protestors in Ramallah and Jerusalem. They have begun airstrikes over the Gaza Strip. It is now 3:00 in the morning, and I am exhausted, struggling to understand; struggling to carry the weight of exile, the burden of my Palestinian blood.
As bombs fall over Gaza, and keffiya-clad youth throw stones at their occupiers, my bones ache to be across the border. To be home.
Rafah-born author and poet Khaled Juma wrote a heartbreaking tribute to the children of the Gaza Strip amidst the missiles striking his hometown. At least 506 Palestinian children have been killed since Israel commenced its latest invasion of Gaza on July 8, 2014
Photograph #1: A Palestinian boy, who fled with his family from their home during Israeli air strikes, bathes his brother at a United Nations-run school in the Jabalya Refugee Camp in the northern Gaza Strip on July 31, 2014. The school is a designated shelter for Palestinians who were displaced by Israel’s offensive. Photo credit: Mohammed Salem
Photograph #2: A Palestinian girl reacts at the scene of an explosion carried out by the Israeli military that killed at least eight children and wounded 40 more in a public garden in Gaza City on July 28, 2014. Photo credit: Finbarr O’Reilly
Photograph #3: A traumatized Palestinian child is comforted by a man arranging care for him in a hospital in Gaza City following an Israeli air strike on July 9, 2014. Photo credit: Momen Faiz
Photograph #4: A Palestinian child pulls out toys from a box at a local market in Gaza City during a temporary ceasefire on August 6, 2014. Palestinian and Israeli delegations met in Cairo with Hamas demanding an end to the siege on Gaza and Israel demanding a demilitarization of the territory. Photo credit: Lefteris Pitarakis
Photograph #5: A Palestinian boy sleeps at a United Nations-run school in Gaza City on July 14, 2014, after fleeing with his family from their home in Beit Lahya. Photo credit: Mohammed Salem
Photograph #6: Doctors tend to injured children while a young girl sitting on her mother’s lap cries at a hospital in Rafah in the southern Gaza Strip on August 4, 2014. Photo credit: Eyad El Baba
Photograph #7: A Palestinian girl cries while being treated at a hospital in Beit Lahya following after sustaining injuries from an Israeli air strike on a United Nations school in the Jabalya Refugee Camp on July 30, 2014. Photo credit: Khalil Hamra
Photograph #8: Two Palestinians girls celebrate the first day of Eid Al-Fitr on the grounds of a United Nations school in the Jabalya Refugee Camp in the northern Gaza Strip on July 28, 2014. Their families are among the dozens that have fled their homes and sought refuge in the school. Normally, Muslim families in Palestine celebrate Eid Al-Fitr by visiting one another and gifting children with new clothes and shoes. Photo credit: Khalil Hamra
Photograph #9: One-and-a-half year old Razel Netzlream was killed after she was fatally hit by shrapnel from an Israeli air strike on an adjacent home the previous day. Her father carries her body to the funeral in Khan Younis on July 18, 2014. Photo credit: Alessio Romenzi
Photograph 10: A portrait of Shahed Quishta, 8, is fixed to a pillar in her home in Beit Lahya on August 16, 2014, after an Israeli tank fired a shell into the living room. She was killed on July 22, 2014. Photo credit: Khalil Hamra
Palestinians — young and old — celebrate an indefinite ceasefire in Gaza. 26 August 2014.
Aug. 26 2014
There is one clear reason to celebrate the ceasefire deal Israel and the Palestinian resistance reached today: 51 days and nights of relentless Israeli massacres and destruction have come to an end in Gaza.
With reports that Israel has agreed to reopen Gaza’s borders, Hamas announced victory and Palestinians, especially in Gaza, are celebrating. Among many Israelis, meanwhile, there is a feeling of bitterness and defeat.
“What Netanyahu and his colleagues have brought down on Israel, in a conflict between the region’s strongest army and an organization numbering 10,000, is not just a defeat. It’s a downfall,” wrote Haaretz’s Amir Oren in a stunning admission of how much Israel has been set back.
Some observers are treating the latest events with understandable caution.
“I do not feel in a rejoicing mood, only glad that no more people and children will die,” Gaza writer Omar Ghraieb wrote to me.
In addition to the more than 2,100 killed, “so many people got injured, houses got bombed, towers got leveled and life got deformed,” Ghraieb adds. “I would rather just watch closely what awaits Gaza.”
Indeed, Israel has a long history of violating almost every agreement it has ever signed with Palestinians, from the 1993 Oslo accords to previous ceasefires in Gaza.
Israel agreed to open the crossings as part of its November 2012 ceasefire deal with the Palestinian resistance, but reneged. This time Israel knows the stakes are much higher if it violates those terms again.