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- The real reason a former Israeli army chief called out ethnic cleansing in Gaza

- The West Bank villages wiped off the map by Israeli settler violence

- Gazans face extreme hunger as ‘real famine’ spreads from north to south

- Rejoicing at Lebanon ceasefire, Gazans ask: ‘When will our turn come?’

- PHOTOS: Rainstorm devastates Khan Younis displacement camp

- ‘We must use every tool to resist’: Israeli teens jailed for refusing military service

- In besieged Beit Lahiya, rubble and decomposing corpses line the streets

- In Lebanon, a ceasefire is cause for celebration. Not in Israel

- ‘The ICC’s findings so far have only scratched the surface’

MERON RAPOPORT || DEC 5, 2024, 3:09 PM EST || SOURCE

The real reason a former Israeli army chief called out ethnic cleansing in Gaza

Less concerned by the plight of Palestinians, Moshe Ya’alon fears the impact on the defense establishment of Netanyahu’s anti-democratic revolution.

Moshe Ya'alon attends a protest against Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his Israeli government, Tel Aviv, April 6, 2024. (Miriam Alster/Flash90)

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On Sunday, Dec. 1, Israel’s Channel 12 hosted a conversation with Moshe “Bogie” Ya’alon, a former chief of staff of the Israeli army who later served as defense minister. In an illuminating exchange, Ya’alon insisted on defining Israel’s actions in Gaza as “ethnic cleansing,” argued that the arrest warrants issued by the International Criminal Court in The Hague were entirely justified, and stated that he himself would have issued such warrants “long ago” against Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich, National Security Minister Itamar Ben Gvir, and perhaps even Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

To Yaron Abraham, the Channel 12 interviewer, this was entirely unexpected; he seemed to take it personally that Ya’alon was unwilling to repeat the standard Israeli mantra that the “IDF is the most moral army in the world.”

There is no doubt that such statements carry a particular weight — coming from someone who continues to identify as a right winger, who once smeared members of the left-wing NGO Breaking the Silence as “traitors,” and who, while head of Israel’s Military Intelligence Directorate, pushed the argument that PLO Chairman Yasser Arafat was to blame for the Second Intifada. To disagree with Ya’alon that Israel is carrying out ethnic cleansing in the Gaza Strip — an act that clearly constitutes a war crime — requires a unique blend of shamelessness and audacity.

One might assume at first glance that Ya’alon is speaking out against ethnic cleansing because he sees it as a moral injustice. However, the true motive behind his statements seems to emerge toward the end of the interview.

“[Israel] is no longer defined as a democracy, nor is the judiciary independent,” he said. “We are transitioning from a Jewish, liberal, democratic state in the spirit of the Declaration of Independence to a messianic, racist, corrupt, and leprous dictatorship. Prove me wrong.” In other words, Ya’alon’s concern is not for the Palestinians being forced out of their homes en masse by the Israeli army, but for Israel’s future as a “Jewish and democratic” state.

These statements are particularly interesting because Ya’alon has been one of the most prominent figures in the protest movement against Netanyahu’s judicial coup, in which the “anti-occupation bloc” largely failed to convince the movement’s leaders that there cannot be true democracy as long as the occupation persists. Is Ya’alon effectively saying now that with no democracy there will be ethnic cleansing? Has he concluded that there is a direct connection between the judicial overhaul, the dismantling of the democratic institutions of the “Jewish and democratic” state that he holds dear, and the ethnic cleansing and war crimes Israel is committing in Gaza?

Palestinians fleeing Beit Lahia via Salah al-Din Street to Gaza City, October 22, 2024. (Omar Elqataa)

What reinforces this connection is the fact that the ethnic cleansing in Gaza is being carried out at the same time as the far-right government is intensifying its crusade against civil liberties and state institutions. At the end of November, the Knesset advanced a bill that would make it significantly easier to disqualify candidates and lists from running for parliament due to “support for terrorism”; this bill is clearly designed at eliminating Palestinian parties from the Knesset, thereby rendering the elections themselves meaningless and virtually eradicating the possibility of the right wing ever losing.

The media, too, is coming under attack: the government is advancing legislation to shut down the Public Broadcasting Corporation, while also boycotting the Haaretz newspaper for “numerous articles that harmed Israel’s legitimacy in the world and its right to self-defense,” as Communications Minister Shlomo Karhi put it.

But another central target of the assault is, ironically, the very system from which Ya’alon hails: the defense establishment. In a nine-minute video following the indictment of Eli Feldstein, Netanyahu’s aide and spokesperson suspected of leaking classified military documents to sway Israeli public opinion, the prime minster depicted the army, the Shin Bet, the police, and, to a lesser extent, the Mossad, as another “front” that he is forced to surmount.

On Channel 14, Netanyahu’s main propaganda outlet, various security agencies are not only blamed as the sole culprits for the failures of October 7, but are also portrayed as systematically undermining the pursuit of “total victory” in Gaza. This attack goes beyond rhetoric: measures like the “Feldstein Law,” which would give immunity to those passing classified documents from the military to the prime minister, and the bill to transfer the oversight of intelligence from the military to the Prime Minister’s Office — both of which have passed their first reading in the Knesset — are aimed at establishing a personal intelligence apparatus for the prime minister that bypasses the army and the Shin Bet.

The dismantling of the defense establishment is becoming a tangible reality.

An increasingly unpopular war

As in any populist regime, these actions are justified as necessary steps to carry out the mandate supposedly given to Netanyahu and his government by “the people,” while Netanyahu’s opponents — in the military, the Shin Bet, the prosecution, or the media — are portrayed as an elite seeking to preserve its power undemocratically, against the will of the people. In an absurd twist, the Palestinian minority is portrayed as being on the side of the elites, who are supposedly concerned with Palestinian rights at the expense of the rights of “the Jewish people.”

Interestingly, Ya’alon’s remarks about the war in Gaza increasingly align with public sentiment in Israel, where polls indicate the government now represents only a small minority. A Channel 12 poll published last weekend found that 71 percent of the public supports a hostage deal and ending the war in Gaza, while only 15 percent favors its continuation.

Israelis attend a rally calling for a hostage deal at “Hostages Square” in Tel Aviv, November 30, 2024. (Avshalom Sassoni/Flash90)

The decision to send soldiers to a war where they may lose their lives, especially when they serve in a conscript army, lies at the core of the social contract between a government and its citizens: the government is supposed to ensure citizens’ welfare, protect their rights, and defend them, and in return, they are expected to willingly risk their lives for the state. A democratic government, therefore, is expected to secure broad consensus before going to war.

After October 7, there was an overwhelming consensus in favor of the war in Gaza. The military action in Lebanon similarly faced little resistance from the Israeli public. But now — 14 months into the war, with a ceasefire achieved in the north, hostages dying one by one, and soldiers continuing to lose their lives despite Hamas supposedly having been virtually “eliminated”— polls indicate that most Israelis believe the war in Gaza persists solely for Netanyahu and his government’s own interests.

The overt agenda of the messianic right centers on renewing settlements as the ultimate goal of the war. This only deepens the divide, as there is a stark difference between dying in a war against Hamas, which carried out the October 7 massacre, and dying in a war aimed at re-establishing the Gush Katif settlement bloc, which was dismantled in the “disengagement” of 2005. The fact that people like Housing Minister Yitzhak Goldknopf — an ultra-Orthodox leader who doesn’t send his children to fight in Israel’s wars — waves settlement maps alongside far-right settlement activist Daniella Weiss only exacerbates the increasing illegitimacy of the war in the eyes of large segments of the public.

This growing “democratic deficit” between the government and the public may explain the former’s renewed assault on democracy and state institutions. It’s as if the government suddenly realized that waging an unpopular war was difficult in a society where the army relies on mandatory enlistment and reserve service, so it decided to dismantle what remains of democracy.

After all, why not strip elections of their meaning by excluding the Palestinian minority from the political arena? Why not crush the media and cultivate a loyal propaganda outlet like Channel 14 to eliminate public criticism of the war from the discourse altogether? Like any totalitarian regime, the Netanyahu government understands the critical need for a monopoly over the dissemination of information.

Daniella Weiss (left) at the settlement event near Gaza, October 21, 2024. (Oren Ziv)

The moves aimed at granting Netanyahu and his government direct control over the military and security apparatus are part of the same dynamic. The head of the Shin Bet, Ronen Bar, is under scrutiny, as are senior military leaders. The government seems to believe that by achieving direct control over the mechanisms of force, it can continue the war in Gaza and carry out ethnic cleansing and resettlement, even with the support of only 30 percent of the public.

Consciously or unconsciously, Ya’alon has come out firmly against this very move: the dismantling of democracy to allow Smotrich and Ben Gvir to achieve what they call the “thinning out” of the Palestinian population in Gaza. And Ben Gvir can be believed when he says that Netanyahu, who may have been more cautious about such overt war crimes in the past, is now “showing a certain openness” to the idea of encouraging Palestinians to “voluntarily emigrate.”

There’s no need to paint Ya’alon as the gospel of democracy and morality or as a defender of Palestinian rights. In fact, we can understand his recent statements in the context of his military leadership. As Israeli sociologist Lev Grinberg has argued, the military depends on a clear division between “Israeli democracy” within the Green Line and the occupation beyond it. Netanyahu’s assault on democratic institutions blurs this boundary — and in doing so, undermines the military’s legitimacy to continue its blatantly undemocratic suppression of the Palestinians.

A full military reoccupation of Gaza, ethnic cleansing of Palestinians, and the re-establishment of settlements completely erases this boundary, which is why Ya’alon opposes these moves. He does not address the direct link between the ethnic cleansing of 1948 and that of 2024, and it is doubtful he will do so in the near future. However, for a former defense minister and chief of staff to become a vocal opponent not only of Netanyahu’s anti-democratic revolution but also of the army’s ethnic cleansing in Gaza is a fascinating development.

A version of this article was first published in Hebrew on Local Call. Read it here.

Meron Rapoport is an editor at Local Call.

Tags: Moshe "Boogie" Ya'alon Benjamin Netanyahu October 7 war ethnic cleansing Gaza Anti-government protests

This article was downloaded from https://www.972mag.com/moshe-yaalon-ethnic-cleansing-gaza/ at 9 December 2024, 2:22 AM EST.

The ruins of a building destroyed by settlers in the displaced Palestinian village of Khalet Khader, occupied West Bank. (Oren Ziv)

OREN ZIV || DEC 4, 2024, 10:11 AM EST || SOURCE

The West Bank villages wiped off the map by Israeli settler violence

Since October 7, over 50 rural Palestinian communities have been forced to abandon their homes amid intensifying attacks, threats, and harassment by Israeli settlers — almost always with the backing of the army and police.

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Several weeks before October 7, +972 Magazine published an investigation into the seizure by Israeli settlers of a vast area of the occupied West Bank, stretching east from Ramallah to the outskirts of Jericho. Through the establishment of an array of new settler outposts and sustained harassment of Palestinian shepherding communities, which was often ignored or actively facilitated by the Israeli army, settlers managed to expel virtually all the Palestinians living in an area measuring approximately 150 square kilometers.

In that investigation, we reported on the forcible displacement of four shepherding communities within a period of four years, totaling several hundred people. But over the past 14 months since the Gaza war began, what was already a dramatic process of ethnic cleansing has accelerated exponentially.

According to new data gathered by the left-wing Israeli NGO Kerem Navot, which monitors Israel’s dispossession of Palestinian land in the West Bank, at least 57 Palestinian communities have been forced to flee their homes since October 7 as a result of Israeli settler attacks. Of these, seven have been partially displaced — meaning the expulsion of at least one residential cluster, located several hundred meters away from the next — and 50 have been wiped off the map entirely.

Most of the displacement has been concentrated in four areas: the northern Jordan Valley, east of Ramallah, southeast of Bethlehem, and the South Hebron Hills. “Unsurprisingly, most new outposts have been established in these areas,” Etkes explained. “There is a direct link between their establishment and the rise in violence [against Palestinians].”

Kerem Navot and another left-wing Israeli NGO, Peace Now, estimate that since October 2023, at least 41 illegal settler outposts and herding farms have been established in the West Bank. At least 10 of these were built in close proximity to Palestinian communities that were subsequently forced to flee their lands. In addition, settlers have set up “observation posts” or planted Israeli flags in areas abandoned by Palestinians in order to prevent them from returning.

“Expelling [Palestinian] communities has helped the settlers take over hundreds of thousands of dunams of grazing and agricultural land,” Etkes said — all of which is done “with the backing of the Israeli army and police. Even if the state does not officially declare it, it permits it. This cannot happen in so many communities without [the assistance of] the military.”

In some cases, the army has been documented playing an active role in the displacement. According to multiple Palestinian testimonies, settlers who in the past would harass them while dressed in civilian clothes now arrive armed and in military uniform — part of a growing phenomenon of settlers abusing their role as army reservists amid the ongoing war in Gaza. They carry out violent raids, enter homes, steal livestock, and even conduct arrests, including of Israeli and international activists who come to support vulnerable Palestinian communities.

“You definitely see it recurring,” Etkes told +972. “The army is aware and participates, whether it’s regular soldiers or settler militiamen and ‘area defense’ personnel who operate under the [aegis of the] army.”

These attacks usually occur within what is known as Area C of the West Bank, the roughly 60 percent of the territory in which the Israeli military exercises direct civil and security control. Around half a million Israeli settlers — all of those dwelling illegally in the West Bank — live in these regions, alongside approximately 300,000 Palestinians. While settlements and outposts expand freely onto privately-owned Palestinian land, Israel’s Civil Administration — the arm of the military responsible for administering the occupation — bans the vast majority of construction in Palestinian communities in Area C.

The result, illustrated by the testimonies below from seven villages across the West Bank, has been the expulsion of dozens of Palestinian shepherding communities, enabling further expansion of Israeli settlements and outposts onto their lands.

Umm Al-Jamal: ‘They bring settlers to break the residents’ spirit’

In the scorching heat of late August, Nabil Daraghmeh sat alone outside his home in the shepherding community of Umm Al-Jamal, in the northern Jordan Valley. A few days earlier, nearly all of the community’s residents — around 100 men, women, and children — had fled after settlers descended on the community from an outpost they had established nearby earlier that same week. They entered homes, photographed residents, and made false complaints against them to the Israeli authorities.

In the past, residents of Umm Al-Jamal could largely withstand the settlers’ harassment. But since the war began, the sharp uptick in violence has forced them to flee their lands and relocate to an area where settler attacks are scarcer. Daraghmeh was the last resident remaining. “I said I’m staying here and not leaving,” he told +972.

Nabil Daraghmeh, the last remaining resident of Umm Al-Jamal, Jordan Valley, occupied West Bank. (Oren Ziv)

At night, the 51-year-old father of nine had begun sleeping on the roof of his house to protect himself from settler attacks. “After everyone left, young children of settlers came to me and said, ‘It’s a waste of time, get out of here.’ I told them, ‘I’ve been here for 20 years, and you arrived yesterday — you can’t tell me to get out of here.’ They said if I didn’t leave of my own accord, they’d kick me out.”

Daraghmeh highlighted a new tactic that is becoming increasingly common across the West Bank: “A settler comes and photographs the [Palestinian’s] herd, and then turns to the army and the police and says it belongs to him and the Palestinian stole it from him.”

Immediately after the new outpost was established near Umm Al-Jamal, settlers came and started taking photos. “They were concentrating on the sheep,” Daraghmeh explained. “We saw that it happened in Ras Ein Al-Auja [another Palestinian community nearby], where 150 sheep were taken. People know what happens when the sheep are photographed, they know that in the morning [the settlers] will bring the police and army and say, ‘This is mine.’”

The Israeli outpost near the community was established on Aug. 12. By the morning of Aug. 16, the Palestinian residents had already packed their belongings, dismantled their tents, gathered their flocks, and fled. “This is happening throughout the West Bank — it’s policy,” Daraghmeh said. “They bring the settlers to break the residents’ spirit.”

Al-Farisiya: ‘Settlers, the army, and the police work together’

Residents of the shepherding community of Al-Farisiya began fleeing their homes soon after the war began. Today, roughly 30 families are still holding on, in a residential cluster called Ein Ghazal. Left-wing Israeli activists come to provide a sense of security, but the activists and residents all know that if the settlers decide to act with full force, there is little they could do.

“Since the beginning of the war, settlers, the army, and the police have been working together toward the same goal: expelling the residents and taking over the area,” Ahmed Abu Hussein, 38, explained.

“The village was closed off from all directions,” he continued. “Every day, [settlers] come to the area, abuse the sheep, and force their way into homes. In September, soldiers came to dismantle and confiscate the security cameras we’d placed with the help of organizations and activists, in order to provide some protection for the community.”

In footage from July, the settler Didi Amusi from the nearby Tene Yarok outpost, an extension of the Rotem settlement, can be heard declaring that he would establish an observation post overlooking the community. According to Abu Hussein, there are now seven settler outposts between the settlement of Mehola and the nearby Palestinian community of Ein Al-Hilweh.

The loss of grazing areas since the start of war has meant that Abu Hussein, like other Palestinian shepherds in the region, has had to buy more food for his flock, increasing his financial burden. “In Tayasir [a village in Area B, where many of the communities displaced from the Jordan Valley have fled], they also have to buy food, but there’s a little more security there because there are no settlers around,” he said.

Fathu Sedru: ‘I’m scared for the small children’

Shepherding communities in the southern West Bank describe similar ordeals. The residents of Fathu Sedru, a community located near the settlement of Carmel, were able to graze land in the area until two years ago, when the Israeli settler Shimon Atiya established an outpost called Havat Shorashim (“Roots Farm”).

An observation post that forms an extension of Shimon Atiya’s outpost, Havat Shorashim, near the village of Fathu Sedru, South Hebron Hills, occupied West Bank. (Oren Ziv)

Since the outbreak of the war, their situation has worsened significantly. Today, only one family of 14 remains in the village after two other families fled. One of their homes has since been destroyed by settlers.

“On October 7, the settlers started a war here,” Farid Hamamdeh, one of the remaining residents of Fathu Sedru, told +972. “They cut down about 100 trees, and beat my brothers and I. In the months that followed, there were dozens of attacks. Sometimes they came three times a day, always from Shimon’s outpost.”

Hamamdeh recalls how, before the war, the Civil Administration informally divided the grazing areas between the Israeli settlers and the Palestinians. Since then, however, settlers from the nearby outpost have taken over the entire area. “Shimon says that the area we live in is Israeli territory, [that] everything is Israeli.”

Atiya, he said, often comes in IDF uniform and claims to be there on behalf of the army. “We call the police, but they don’t come. But when I go into Israeli [grazing] territory, they all come.”

Hamamdeh was arrested twice this past August after being harassed by settlers from the outpost. “Shimon came to the house, and I tried to block the door but two of them made their way inside. One of them hit me on the hand and said I had hit him. I didn’t get a good [camera] shot of it. Then the police came, [after] I called them, and they said I had assaulted him. Am I crazy? Attacking [someone] and then calling the police?”

Hamamdeh described his time in jail as extremely difficult. “It was seven days, but it felt like 70. We were taken out into the yard handcuffed and blindfolded. They banged my head against the doorframe until I bled. I was taken to a doctor who gave me two handkerchiefs to clean the blood and nothing else. They gave me clothes that were too small. I came out of prison as if I had come back from death.”

Hamamdeh said that while he had no intention of leaving his home, the escalating settler violence left him and his family deeply worried. “This is our land, my father’s, my grandfather’s. But the settlers have no God. I’m scared for the small children.”

Farid Hamamdeh with his children in Fathu Sedru, South Hebron Hills, occupied West Bank. (Oren Ziv)

Umm Darit: ‘When we call the police, they tell us we’re liars’

In the community of Umm Darit, located in the region of Masafar Yatta, one Palestinian family lives sandwiched between the outpost of Mitzpe Yair and the settlement of Avigayil, which was recently legalized. After being driven out of their land at the start of the war, the Abed family managed to return in March thanks to a continual presence of international activists.

Like in other communities across the West Bank, settlers and soldiers erected an arbitrary blockade near the family’s home, cutting off access to their trees, seasonal crops, and water wells. Then came the attack.

“On Oct. 20 [2023], a group of settlers dressed in military uniforms came and forced us out of the house,” Mohammed Abed, 60, told +972. “They had us sit outside for four hours, while they broke everything. After they finished, one of them came up to me and said, ‘If you sleep here at night, we’ll kill you.’ So we went to [the nearby village of] Sha’b Al-Butum. Every morning I went back home, and at night slept in Sha’b Al-Butum.

“At the beginning of Ramadan in March, after [we] came back, they started to harass us again,” Abed continued. “In April, settlers dressed in military uniform told us that if we crossed a certain tree, they would either arrest us, kill us, or cut off our hands. We told them it was our land. They said it all belonged to Avigayil.”

Since then, settlers dressed in military uniforms have routinely encroached on the family’s land. In one case, they set a vehicle on fire. “If the settlers see that [international activists] are leaving, they immediately bring their sheep to eat our crops,” Abed said. “When we call the police, they tell us we’re liars. We have footage, but it doesn’t bother them.”

Mohammed Abed stands beside a car burned by settlers in Umm Darit, South Hebron Hills, occupied West Bank. (Oren Ziv)

To protect their property, the residents secured the community’s ancient cistern with a tightly-locked door and installed three security cameras aimed at it. Several times, settlers, mostly teenagers, came and sat on the porch of the family house for a few hours. “They said they wanted coffee next time,” Abed recounted.

Nearby, on the way to the adjacent village of At-Tuwani, settlers set up a gate to further restrict Palestinians’ freedom of movement. “Everything you see has happened since the war started,” Abed said. “Before the war, we could go to [the villages of] Mufagarah, At-Tuwani, Khalet Al-Daba; the area was open. Now they’re not letting us through. The war was their opportunity.”

Khirbet Zanuta: ‘There is a plan to kick out as many communities as possible’

The community of Khirbet Zanuta, located in the southernmost part of the West Bank, is one of the largest to have been displaced since the start of the war, comprising 27 families totaling some 300 people. In November 2023, residents were forced to flee following repeated attacks by settlers from the nearby Havat Meitarim outpost. That outpost, along with its founder, Yinon Levy, were subsequently sanctioned by the Biden administration.

The residents petitioned the High Court of Justice to allow them to return to the village and receive protection, and in July, their efforts bore fruit: the court ruled that the state must allow the residents to return, in coordination with the military and with the protection of the police and the army.

On Aug. 21, dozens of residents returned to the village, but were forbidden from rebuilding any of the structures that the settlers had destroyed. When they began setting up a cloth for shade from the sun, settlers called the Civil Administration which came with police to dismantle and confiscate the equipment.

Despite the state’s commitment to the court to protect the Palestinian residents, the settlers’ harassment continued unabated. Every day, settlers entered the community, walked among the houses, and photographed the residents to provoke them. After one such invasion, residents called the police. The officer who arrived declared that “both sides are allowed to be there.”

Israeli settlers harass Palestinian residents of Khirbet Zanuta, South Hebron Hills, occupied West Bank. (Oren Ziv)

On Sept. 9, Levy entered the village wearing a shirt emblazoned with the insignia of Hashomer Yosh — another organization sanctioned by the United States in August — and stole a sheep that he claimed originally belonged to him. The police officers and soldiers who arrived at the scene not only allowed Levy to take the sheep, but arrested one of the residents. (The sheep was returned to the Palestinians a month later.)

In a video filmed after the arrest, Levy is heard saying, “Most of this land is mine.” When told that the police officer at the scene had said it was private Palestinian land, Levy said: “He doesn’t know … He must have made a mistake.”

A few days later, the majority of residents abandoned the village once more, unable to withstand the constant harassment. Some remained for a little while in an area across the road, known as North Zanuta, but were forced out of there too by the end of the month.

Quamar Mishirqi-Assad, a lawyer representing the residents, filed a motion for contempt of court on the grounds that the Israeli authorities failed to abide by the court’s ruling and protect the residents from the settlers, which forced them to leave their land again.

“The settlers attacked the residents and their sheep, and threatened them,” she told +972. “In addition, residents were not allowed to rebuild, or even to put up a shading cloth, on the grounds that it is an archaeological site. So although the authorities committed to [allow the Palestinian residents to] return, they are not allowed basic living conditions.

“The right-wing agenda has permeated — the army is carrying it out,” Mishirqi-Assad continued. “They treat the people of Zanuta as if they are residents of an illegal outpost, even though they have admitted that they lived in caves [on the village’s land] for years, and that they have rights and documents [proving it].

“It just goes to show that there is a plan to kick out as many communities as possible under the auspices of ‘security reasons,’ and this has intensified after October 2023,” she added. “Otherwise, I can’t understand why the people of Zanuta can’t [be allowed to] return.”

A Palestinian shepherd grazes his flock on the lands of Zanuta, South Hebron Hills, occupied West Bank. (Oren Ziv)

According to Mishirqi-Assad, the initial success of the residents’ legal struggle made it particularly important for settlers to ensure that the Palestinian residents are driven away for good. “Their return gave people hope,“ she said. “There was a precedent here. It’s a big community, it has a significant impact. The fall of Zanuta led to the fall of more villages and the expulsion of more communities.”

In an indication of Israeli authorities’ attitude toward the community’s legal status, the Civil Administration referred to Zanuta as a “Palestinian outpost” in a statement to +972. It is worth noting in this context that the Civil Administration does not enforce building violations in the nearby Havat Meitarim outpost, even though all of its structures were built illegally under Israeli law.

Al-Muarrajat: ‘It looked like they wanted to kill’

The community of Al-Muarrajat lies near Jericho, abutting an area of 150 square kilometers that settlers emptied of Palestinians prior to the war. According to Kerem Navot, settlers have established around 20 illegal herding outposts in this area in recent years; one of them, a sub-outpost of a farm belonging to the radical settler Neria Ben Pazi (also sanctioned by the United States), was erected right beside Al-Muarrajat.

Before the war, residents were targeted by settlers from nearby outposts, who prevented them from crossing the road toward the community of Ras Ein Al-Auja to graze. Since October 7, the situation has only worsened, with settlers often descending on the town and walking between the houses to intimidate residents, as well as poisoning the community’s sheep. As a result of the intensification of attacks, at least one residential cluster in the center of the village fled soon after the war started.

In mid-September, settlers attacked the village’s school as some of the children hid in the classrooms, crying for help. Footage of the attack shows settlers, some of them masked, storming the school with clubs as students flee. Several teachers were wounded in the attack. When the Israeli authorities arrived, they arrested the school’s principal.

A photo shows the damage left by settlers after they attacked the school in Al-Muarrajat, Jordan Valley, occupied West Bank. (Oren Ziv)

In an extremely rare occurrence, the Jerusalem District Attorney’s Office filed indictments against five settlers, including Zohar Sabah — the owner of the nearby farm, who the United States sanctioned in November — and two minors, for their involvement in the attacks.

Awtan Al-Malihat, a 33-year-old mother of six, told +972 that some of her children were in the school during the attack. “I went there to get the kids. The settlers had clubs, they didn’t even cover their faces. They just beat us, without talking. It was a serious assault; it looked like they wanted to kill.”

After the attack, Al-Malihat’s children refused to go back to school. “They said they were afraid there would be another attack, but I told the older daughter to take her little sister and be around her all day,” she said.

“There is no security here,” Al-Malihat continued. “If there are activists, [the settlers] don’t attack us. But when they’re not here, the settlers know and come to make trouble. They want to expel us — not only here, but everywhere. But we have been living here for a long time, and we have nowhere else. This is our land, we will not leave.”

Aaliyah Malihat, a 28-year-old communications student from the community, described how the settlers’ terror against the village has intensified since the war began: “They attack residents day and night. The army and police come with them, taking sheep, arresting people, even opening fire. We don’t know who to turn to for protection.

“We’ve lived here for decades, and the school has existed for 40 years,” she continued. “The settlers decided a year ago to take over the school and the nearby spring because they know that these are the most important things in the village — and if they take them, the residents will leave.”

Aaliyah Malihat in her home in Al-Muarrajat, Jordan Valley, occupied West Bank. (Oren Ziv)

Schools in Palestinian communities in the West Bank are often targeted by settlers and right-wing organizations. In 2021, the settler organization Regavim published a report claiming that the establishment of schools was part of a Palestinian plan to take over territory in Area C.

Wadi As-Siq: ‘We were under siege’

A few kilometers up the mountain from Al-Muarrajat lies Wadi As-Siq, whose residents were expelled in the first days of the war. The community, which settlers marked for expulsion even before the war, is located next to the area that was already ethnically cleansed by the summer of 2023.

B., a father of nine who asked to remain anonymous for fear of settler retribution, told +972 that the problems started in February 2023, when the aforementioned settler Neria Ben Pazi established an outpost a few hundred meters from the local school. “From the day the settlers arrived, they made life difficult. As did the army. At school, on the roads, on the pastures, in the fields, and in the wells — there were problems. After the expulsion, the problems only got worse.”

In the summer of 2023, Israeli and Palestinian activists maintained a protective presence to prevent the expulsion of residents. After the war began and attacks intensified, however, residents began to flee. During this time, settlers and soldiers raided the community, kidnapping and severely abusing Palestinian and Israeli activists, including sexually — an incident that prompted the closure of the Israeli army’s Desert Frontier unit, whose soldiers were involved in the abuse.

“The last days in the village, from Oct. 7 to 11, were difficult,” B. said. “Roads were blocked, attacks were carried out near our home, and we were prevented from bringing water and food for the animals. We were under siege.”

Members of the community have since dispersed. Some relocated to Area B, near the communities of Taybeh and Rammun in the central West Bank. B. initially moved into a tent in an open area nearby, from which he can see his old home as well as Ben Pazi’s outpost. “I saw the village every day, but I wish I didn’t. It’s mentally difficult,” he said.

A Palestinian man looks out from a tent over the lands of Wadi As-Siq, occupied West Bank. (Oren Ziv)

“In Wadi As-Siq, we had land for grazing and sowing, we had good houses, and water in wells,” he continued. “We had 1,500 dunams [around 370 acres], a school, and an access road. After the expulsion, we don’t have anything. We don’t have a house. I only have a tent to sleep in at night. There is no water and no grazing area, and barley for sheep is expensive so we can’t buy any. There’s no work so there’s no money, even to send the little ones to school.”

As with other communities, the expulsion has dismantled the social fabric of the community. “Our neighbors are gone — we meet only on happy occasions and holidays,” B. explained. “In Wadi As-Siq, we sat together every night in a different house. The distance between us was 50 meters. Now it’s 3-4 kilometers.”

Today, B. and his family live on the outskirts of Rammun, opposite an illegal landfill where garbage is burned. They managed to send the children to a local school only after activists raised the annual tuition fee of NIS 800 (around $220) per student. The family are still afraid to go out to graze in the area: “If we go far, they will take our sheep, as they did in Zanuta.”

After B. learned that the residents of Zanuta returned to their homes in August, he was hopeful the same could happen in Wadi As-Siq. “But we heard they wanted to leave [again, due to renewed settler harassment], so hope was gone.”

A spokesperson for Israel’s Civil Administration declined to respond to an inquiry from +972 regarding how it is working to protect the Palestinian residents of Area C. The spokesperson responded only to our question about Zanuta, where it claims to be “working to maintain security and order” despite residents having been forced to flee once again after their legally mandated return. An Israeli army spokesperson responded similarly: “In cases of violence, the relevant authorities can be contacted and the matter will be examined.”

Eran Maoz assisted with this report. Sections of this article were first published in Hebrew on Local Call. Read them here and here.

Oren Ziv is a photojournalist, reporter for Local Call, and a founding member of the Activestills photography collective.

Tags: Settler violence West Bank Area C Israeli settlers South Hebron Hills Masafer Yatta Jordan Valley October 7 war forcible displacement ethnic cleansing

This article was downloaded from https://www.972mag.com/west-bank-villages-israeli-settler-violence/ at 9 December 2024, 2:22 AM EST.

RUWAIDA KAMAL AMER || DEC 4, 2024, 9:09 AM EST || SOURCE

Gazans face extreme hunger as ‘real famine’ spreads from north to south

Israel’s siege of the north and ‘benevolence’ toward gangs looting aid trucks has led to severe food shortages and skyrocketing prices across Gaza.

Displaced Palestinians line up to receive a meal in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, November 29, 2024. (Abed Rahim Khatib/Flash90)

Mustafa Al-Darsh, a 35-year-old father of three from Gaza City, spends hours every day searching for food for his family. Some days, he manages to secure a few canned goods; other days, his family has to settle for plain rice. “In the north, we yearn to eat bread with some thyme,” he told +972. He hasn’t been able to find flour for months.

Since the start of October, when the Israeli army encircled northern Gaza and began subjecting it to a campaign of expulsion and extermination, no goods — including humanitarian supplies — have entered the area. In early November, a UN panel warned that famine was imminent in the besieged area in the north of the Strip, where around 75,000 Palestinians were estimated to still remain. Local organizations have since urged the UN and international bodies to formally declare a famine. Now, with the UN Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) forced to pause aid deliveries through the Kerem Shalom crossing in the south, hunger and malnutrition across the enclave are set to intensify.

As a father, Al-Darsh usually forgoes his own meals to ensure that his wife and children eat. “Our bodies are exhausted from the lack of food — we’re unable to do anything,” he explained. When night falls, he is usually too hungry to sleep. “Sometimes I feel that I will lose my mind because of what we are living through,” he added.

More often than not, Al-Darsh cannot find any food at all, and his children go without meals for several days at a time. “Every day, I cry because they miss food,” he said. “They constantly ask me about food, telling me what they want to eat.”

“In the north of the Strip, there is a real famine,” Adnan Abu Hasna, an UNRWA spokesman, told +972. “The situation is very dangerous: there is no food, potable water, or any supplies. All health facilities have collapsed, and there are dozens of bodies lying in the streets and under the rubble.” Without international pressure to surge aid into the Strip, Abu Hasna warned, “famine will spread in the north and south.”

Displaced Palestinians line up to receive a meal in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, November 29, 2024. (Abed Rahim Khatib/Flash90)

But what Al-Darsh described as a “harsh war of starvation” only appears to be escalating by the day. “They treat us as people who do not deserve to live, with the continuous bombing, destruction, and starvation,” he lamented. “We want to die full, not hungry. This is all we hope for.”

‘In the north and south, we live through the same crisis’

Before the war, Khaled Al-Attar told +972, it was shameful to speak about hunger. For the 40-year-old from the northern city of Beit Hanoun, the word still carries that same sense of shame today, even after living through two months of siege that has blocked the entry of any food. “We are not used to hunger,” he explained, “but we are being subjected to it — a great injustice carried out by an immoral and inhumane occupation, supported by the United States.”

Some days, Al-Attar tries to control his hunger by consuming salt and water. His wife was recently bedridden for several days, unable to move from the lack of food. For most of the past year, he noted, “we relied on legumes and canned food. Now, there is nothing available; [here] in the north we have not seen food at all since the beginning of the siege.”

Even as northern Gaza bears the brunt of Israel’s policy of starvation, Palestinians throughout Gaza are going hungry. “In the north and the south we are living through the same crisis: we all have no food in our homes,” Al-Attar said, based on conversations with his relatives in the south.

According to the UN, food security conditions are “alarmingly deteriorating” in the central and southern areas of the Strip — with wheat flour shortages forcing bakeries to close, and only 16 percent of the population able to receive reduced monthly food rations. According to Abu Hasna of UNRWA, only 30 to 35 aid trucks are entering Gaza every day, “and this number is not even enough to serve a residential neighborhood or a single street. How can it be enough for the 2.3 million citizens of the Gaza Strip?”

The severe shortages have led to tragic incidents as people desperately search for food. On Nov. 23, three women were killed after what Palestinian media described as “security forces” opened fire during a stampede for bread at a bakery in Deir Al-Balah. A few days later, two children and a 50-year-old woman were crushed to death outside another overcrowded bakery in the same city.

Osama Abu Laban, whose 13-year-old daughter Rahaf was one of the victims, warned her against going to the bakery that day. “I told her not to go; the place was severely crowded,” he told +972. “Thousands were rushing to obtain bread, and there was no police to maintain order.” That was the last time Abu Laban saw his daughter alive. “She entered the crowd of people, and moments later they brought her out to me as a dead body.”

Displaced Palestinians line up to receive a meal in Khan Younis, in the southern Gaza Strip, November 29, 2024. (Abed Rahim Khatib/Flash90)

The tragedy left Abu Laban and his wife in a state of shock. “We lived through unbearable circumstances and are still suffering, but no one cares,” he lamented. “I lost my daughter for a loaf of bread. I don’t know what else is left for us to endure.”

Salwa Khreis, a 50-year-old from Beit Lahiya, fled the north last December for what Israeli authorities promised would be a “humanitarian zone” in Al-Mawasi, near Khan Younis. “I was afraid that my 10 grandchildren would die of hunger,” she told +972, “but now I am looking for food to feed them.” Sometimes she scavenges for edible plants in nearby fields, while her three sons go out each morning looking for food. “Some of them return with canned food, and some return with nothing,” she said.

None of Khreis’ sons are able to find any work, and with the exorbitant rise in food costs, what remains of dry goods or fresh vegetables has become too expensive for them to afford. “Bags of flour are very scarce, and if I find a 25-kilo bag it costs $60,” she explained. “A kilo of tomatoes costs $20, a kilo of eggplants goes for $10. Where can I find money to buy this?”

As a diabetic, Khreis now suffers from daily attacks due to the lack of food. Most nights, her grandchildren are unable to sleep, crying from the pangs of hunger. “I lie to them and tell them that tomorrow, we will eat a lot of food. But then tomorrow comes, and I don’t know what to feed them. Sometimes I feel that my heart will stop from this sadness.”

Other Gazans who spoke to +972 described similar shortages of food across the Strip. “We are experiencing a real famine in southern Gaza,” said 23-year-old Reem Al-Ghazal from Gaza City, who is currently displaced in Al-Mawasi. ”We don’t have flour; one bag costs about $100 dollars. We rely on bread with a little thyme and canned food, which have also become unavailable. What is the purpose of starving us in this way?” Her relatives in the north, she added, have not eaten “in many days.”

Louay Saqr, a 38-year-old residing in Deir Al-Balah after being displaced from Gaza City, described similar hardships. “We adults may be more tolerant of this suffering, but we have children and elderly people,” he said. “My mother fell ill due to malnutrition and was forced to go to the hospital and stay there for a whole week. I call my friends in Khan Younis or Al-Mawasi to ask them if they have food for sale in the markets, but their situation is as difficult as ours.”

Protecting the looters

On Nov. 16, a 109-truck aid convoy passed through the Kerem Shalom crossing, transporting food into southern Gaza — only for 98 of the trucks to be violently looted by armed men inside the Strip, injuring the drivers and causing extensive damage. The incident, although unusual in its scale, exemplified how the breakdown of security inside Gaza has deepened the food crisis: of the meager amount of aid that enters the Gaza, up to 30 percent is looted and stolen, mostly by organized criminal gangs.

Dozen trucks with humanitarian help from the European Union for Gaza at the Erez Crossing, November 11, 2024. (Michael Giladi/Flash90)

The UN has claimed that these armed groups operate in areas under Israeli military control, and “may be benefiting from a passive if not active benevolence” or “protection” by Israeli forces. A group of 29 major international NGOs, including Save the Children, Oxfam, and the Norwegian Refugee Council, accused the Israeli army of encouraging the looting of humanitarian aid by attacking the Palestinian police forces that are trying to combat it, or standing by as gangs loot trucks and extort their drivers.

Palestinian political analyst Muhammad Shehada believes that Israel is supporting these criminal organizations as part of an effort to find an alternative to Hamas, the Palestinian Authority, and UNRWA to control Gaza. The looting and breakdown of order inside the Strip, he argued, also serves a political interest for Israel. “The army has found a justification for preventing the entry of trucks, saying that they are allowed to enter but that Palestinians steal and loot them,” he told +972.

Jihad Islim, secretary-general of the Private Transport Association in Gaza, also holds Israel responsible for these thefts. “If Israel wanted to protect this aid, it could have done so, but it aims to spread chaos and instability in the Gaza Strip,” he argued. “These gangs have already shot and killed nine drivers.”

Islim estimated the value of the stolen goods from the trucks at millions of dollars, warning that this phenomenon will exacerbate the already extreme hunger across Gaza. Because of the widespread looting, much of the aid no longer reaches those who need it most in northern Gaza, and instead ends up in markets where boxes labeled “assistance provided by the United Nations” are sold at up to 700 percent of their original price.

The looting is most systematic between the Kerem Shalom crossing and the southern city of Rafah, an area of Gaza the gangs effectively control. But it also occurs along Salah Al-Din Street, the Strip’s main north-south corridor. Mohammed, a 45-year-old Palestinian truck driver, spoke to +972 about the experience of delivering aid during the war, which he described as the “most difficult and dangerous” period of his 20-year career.

At the beginning of the war, he noted, the Israeli army posed the main threat to aid trucks, often targeting those heading north. “We were risking our lives, but the humanitarian motive inside us was pushing us to continue delivering aid to our people,” he said. For the past four months, however, drivers fear being exposed to theft by different gangs that operate along Salah Al-Din Street.

Aid from UNRWA being sold at a market in Beit Lahiya, northern Gaza, October 4, 2024. (Sakher Rami)

“It starts in eastern Rafah, then the Miraj area [in northern Rafah], and sometimes near the European Hospital [in Khan Younis]; then there is the Bani Suheila roundabout, and the entrance to Deir Al-Balah: these are the areas most crowded with theft gangs,” Mohammed explained.

The armed men normally start by shooting at the trucks’ wheels, or at the drivers directly. “We try as much as possible to speed up to pass these gangs,” Mohammed said, “but their numbers are large. The heavy shooting could cost us our lives. [In October,] a colleague of mine was wounded by this gunfire, and another colleague left the truck when his wheels exploded.”

Saeed Daqqa, a 32-year-old Palestinian from Al-Fukhari, east of Salah Al-Din Street near Khan Younis, told +972 that he hears gunfire whenever aid trucks enter the area. “We know that this is gunfire from the gangs who control Salah Al-Din Street. We all feel upset about this: we need aid, and when it is stolen, we [can only] find it in the market at very high prices.”

On Nov. 18, Gaza’s Interior Ministry announced that 20 gang members had been killed in a heavy exchange of gunfire with the police. “The police announced an operation to pursue the thieves who steal the trucks,” Daqqa said. “This may be the beginning of hope for us to stop the famine that is pervading the south.”

In response to allegations that the Israeli army is turning a blind eye to looting of aid convoys by armed gangs, a spokesperson claimed that the army “takes all operationally feasible measures to mitigate harm to civilians, including aid convoys and workers,” adding that it was “facilitating and easing the entry of humanitarian aid into the northern Gaza Strip, both through the Erez Crossing and by enabling aid convoys from the south to the north.”

Ruwaida Kamal Amer is a freelance journalist from Khan Younis.

Tags: Gaza humanitarian aid October 7 war siege

This article was downloaded from https://www.972mag.com/gaza-famine-aid-looting-siege/ at 9 December 2024, 2:22 AM EST.

MAHMOUD MUSHTAHA || DEC 2, 2024, 5:22 PM EST || SOURCE

Rejoicing at Lebanon ceasefire, Gazans ask: ‘When will our turn come?’

Successful diplomacy in Lebanon has deepened Gazans' sense of isolation — and with Hezbollah out of the way, they fear Israel's assault will only intensify.

Displaced Palestinians in their tents at the Nuseirat camp in the central Gaza Strip, November 25, 2024. (Ali Hassan/Flash90)

On Nov. 27, a ceasefire agreement came into effect in Lebanon, bringing a glimmer of hope to the war-torn region. For the people of Gaza, battered for over a year by relentless Israeli bombardment and a deepening humanitarian crisis, the news evoked a bittersweet response. The fleeting sense of joy and relief for their neighbors to the north, who might soon be able to rebuild their lives, was overshadowed by their own agony as Israel’s genocidal military campaign in Gaza continues.

“We are happy for [the Lebanese people],” Asem, a 34-year-old father of three from northern Gaza, told +972. “No one should endure what we are going through. But it hurts that the world can act swiftly elsewhere while we are left to face this genocide alone.”

His sentiments resonate deeply among Gazans. For many of them, the ceasefire in Lebanon underscores the harsh reality that their suffering matters less than others. “The world saw what happened in Lebanon, [and was] able to stop the war there,” said Ruba Makwai, a 25-year-old teacher. “But who will stop the war in Gaza? Who will speak for us?”

Like over 90 percent of Gazans, Makwai had to flee her home because of the war. In November 2023, she and her family were forced to leave northern Gaza, after heavy Israeli bombardments destroyed their neighborhood. Now, living in a cramped shelter for displaced people in Az-Zawayda in central Gaza with her mother, siblings, and dozens of others, she finds herself yearning for a sense of normalcy.

“This morning, I watched videos of displaced Lebanese returning to their homes. I’ve replayed those videos over and over, imagining what it would be like to return to our home,” Makwai told +972. “I imagine myself running to hug my father and brother — I haven’t seen them in a year. I wish more than anything to experience that moment. But for us, reality is heartbreaking. Our life is confined to the borders of these tents.”

Displaced Palestinians around their tents in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, December 1, 2024. (Abed Rahim Khatib/Flash90)

‘We have no one to advocate for us’

A key factor complicating efforts to reach a ceasefire in Gaza is the lack of a unified Palestinian leadership, which the Israeli government, under Benjamin Netanyahu, has worked to divide and suppress over many years, exploiting the resulting vacuum to advance its own agenda. Gaza’s isolation, coupled with the political chaos, the U.S. elections, and Israel’s conflict with Lebanon, has left Palestinians without a clear voice on the international stage.

This leadership vacuum deepened with Israel’s assassinations of prominent Palestinian political figures. The killing of Ismail Haniyeh in July and Yahya Sinwar in October — key players in negotiations and decision-making — further undermined diplomatic momentum to reach a ceasefire. While U.S. President Joe Biden suggested the assassination of Sinwar could bring Gaza and Israel closer to an agreement, Netanyahu leveraged it to intensify his military campaign against Gaza.

“The assassinations leave us leaderless,” Adel, a Palestinian journalist, told +972. “We are without a father or representative. We have no one to advocate for us as Netanyahu’s plans move forward.”

Given Netanyahu’s past political maneuvers, some believe that the ceasefire in Lebanon may actually be a dangerous sign for Gaza. Youssef Salem, a Palestinian activist and lawyer, wrote in a Facebook post that the ceasefire in Lebanon “will lead to increased political and military focus on Gaza in the coming period,” but that this focus is unlikely to bring relief. Instead, it signals a potential intensification of Israeli aggression, as the war-torn enclave becomes the sole target of Netanyahu’s military strategies.

Regional actors, particularly Iran, further complicate the situation. While Tehran positions itself as a champion of Palestinian resistance, many Gazans feel that its involvement in the war only serves its own strategic interests.

Parts of an Iranian missile that fell near the Beit El settlement in Ramallah in the West Bank, October 1, 2024. (Flash90)

“They talk a lot about liberating Palestine,” Adel noted. “But where is their help when our children are dying?”

Iran’s support for Palestinian factions like Hamas and Islamic Jihad has provided Israel with a pretext for its devastating military operations in Gaza. Yet Tehran’s rhetoric is not matched by tangible aid or intervention. For ordinary Gazans, Adel argues, this disconnect breeds resentment and a sense of betrayal.

“We are caught between forces that do not care about us: Iran stirs things up, Israel attacks us, and the world watches.”

Gaza overshadowed

The longstanding divisions between Palestinian factions have posed significant challenges to the broader Palestinian cause. Yet, for the people of Gaza, their suffering transcends political rivalries. “We are human beings first. Isn’t that enough reason for the world to act?” asked Aya Shawa, a 31-year-old activist.

Her words reflect the growing frustration within the besieged Strip — not only toward their oppressors, but also toward allies like Qatar, who are perceived as turning away from Gaza.

For years, Qatar played a crucial role in helping Gaza survive Israel’s nearly two-decade long blockade, providing humanitarian aid, mediating temporary ceasefires, and funding rebuilding efforts. However, recent comments by Qatari officials, who cited lack of seriousness from “both sides” as reason for suspending the country’s role as mediator in the ceasefire talks, have left Gazans feeling betrayed and further isolated on the international stage.

U.S. Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken holds a meeting with the Qatari Amir Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani in Doha, October 24, 2024. (Office of U.S. Secretary of State/Wikimedia Commons)

“How did Qatar equate Gaza with Israel?” asked Aya Shawa. “Is it logical to put us, the oppressed, on the same level as the occupier?”

Qatar’s diplomatic shift reflects a broader regional trend: as Israel’s war in Gaza grinds on, Palestinians’ plight is increasingly overshadowed by other events and political priorities. Israel’s invasion of Lebanon in September temporarily redirected media attention away from Gaza; now, the renewed fighting in Syria’s civil war threatens to do the same. And rather than working to resolve the immediate humanitarian crisis, many diplomats and politicians are instead prioritizing the questions of Gaza’s governance and control in the “day-after” scenario.

For the people of Gaza, having already endured 14 months of war, over 44,282 deaths, looming famine, and the destruction of countless homes, schools, and hospitals, this is an ominous sign of things to come. “We are not just numbers,” Aya reiterated. “We are people with dreams, families, and hopes for a better future. But the world doesn’t see us that way.”

The ceasefire in Lebanon serves for many in Gaza as a reminder of what they long for, and what is seemingly beyond their reach. As displaced Lebanese begin returning to their homes, Gazans are left with little more than the hope that their suffering will one day end. The question that haunts them is a simple one: “Who will stand with us to stop this madness?”

Mahmoud Mushtaha is a journalist and human rights activist from Gaza. He is currently pursuing an MA in Global Media and Communication at the University of Leicester, UK. Recently, he published his first book in Spanish, "Sobrevivir al genocidio en Gaza."

Tags: ceasefire Lebanon Gaza Qatar October 7 war

This article was downloaded from https://www.972mag.com/lebanon-ceasefire-gaza-isolation/ at 9 December 2024, 2:22 AM EST.

DOAA ALBAZ || NOV 29, 2024, 11:33 AM EST || SOURCE

PHOTOS: Rainstorm devastates Khan Younis displacement camp

Heavy rain and strong winds battered the tents of Gazans displaced by Israel’s onslaught, leaving many without any shelter for the coming winter.

Seawater damages the tents of displaced people on the beach in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, November 25, 2024. (Doaa Albaz/Activestills)

The first heavy rainfall of winter arrived in Gaza this week, flooding tent encampments across the besieged Strip. With approximately 90 percent of the enclave’s population having been displaced from their homes, often several times, hundreds of thousands of Palestinians are living in makeshift tents that are ill-equipped to withstand the elements. Gaza’s Government Media Office estimates that around 10,000 tents were either washed away or damaged due to this week’s storm.

One of the areas worst hit was a displacement camp that has sprung up along the beach in Khan Younis, southern Gaza. Many tents here were completely washed away by the rising tide, leaving residents with no shelter whatsoever. Civil defense authorities issued urgent warnings to remaining residents to evacuate due to fears that additional strong winds and storms could destroy what little is left.

For children living in these tents, the arrival of winter exacerbates their suffering and leaves them extremely vulnerable to respiratory infections and hypothermia. The damage to their flimsy shelters further exposes them to the severe cold and ongoing impacts of Israel’s onslaught, as their families struggle to survive another harsh winter.

Another camp nearby, Nahr Al-Bared, was also hit badly by the storm. “I live with my family in a tent made of blankets,” Falastine Hamed Tafesh, a resident of that camp, told +972 Magazine. “I fixed it a little while ago after it tore apart, but rainwater was still seeping in. Since Monday, the rain has flooded our tent, soaking all of our clothes.

“I have no way of keeping my children warm,” she continued. “I don’t know how I can provide clothes for them. My two daughters are sick, and I’m exhausted from repeatedly visiting hospitals to no avail. How can we live in a torn tent that neither protects us from the cold nor the rain? This is the third time my husband has asked ‘Where will we go?’ and I have no answer.”

Falastine Hamed Tafesh holds one of her daughters in her arms at the entrance to her tent on the coast of Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, November 24, 2024. (Doaa Albaz/Activestills)

Seawater damages the tents of displaced people on the beach in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, November 25, 2024. (Doaa Albaz/Activestills)

Displaced Palestinians try to re-erect their tent after it was damaged by a storm, Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, November 25, 2024. (Doaa Albaz/Activestills)

A Palestinian child digs a hole next to his tent to try to prevent seawater from entering, Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, November 25, 2024. (Doaa Albaz/Activestills)

Displaced Palestinians try to repair their tent after it was damaged by a storm, Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, November 25, 2024. (Doaa Albaz/Activestills)

A tent damaged by seawater on the beach of Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, November 25, 2024. (Doaa Albaz/Activestills)

A Palestinian child stands beside her damaged tent, Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, November 25, 2024. (Doaa Albaz/Activestills)

Rainwater falls on the tents of displaced Palestinians in Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, November 24, 2024. (Doaa Albaz/Activestills)

A view of a displacement camp in the Al-Mawasi area adjacent to Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip, November 24, 2024. (Doaa Albaz/Activestills)

Doaa Albaz is a Palestinian photographer from the Nuseirat refugee camp in central Gaza, currently displaced in Khan Younis. She is a member of the Activestills photography collective.

Tags: Khan Younis Gaza October 7 war storm refugee camps forcible displacement

This article was downloaded from https://www.972mag.com/photos-rainstorm-khan-younis-tents/ at 9 December 2024, 2:23 AM EST.

OREN ZIV || NOV 28, 2024, 12:37 PM EST || SOURCE

‘We must use every tool to resist’: Israeli teens jailed for refusing military service

Conscientious objectors Iddo Elam and Soul Behar Tsalik tell +972 why their wartime draft refusal is a stand for a better future for all in Israel-Palestine.

Iddo Elam (left) and Soul Behar Tsalik (right), before entering prison for refusing mandatory conscription in the Israeli army, November 27, 2024. (Oren Ziv)

In partnership with

Two Israeli teenagers were sentenced to 30 days in military prison this week for refusing mandatory conscription in protest of the war and the occupation. Iddo Elam and Soul Behar Tsalik, both 18-year-olds from Tel Aviv, became the seventh and eighth refuseniks to publicly oppose the draft for political reasons since October 7.

The pair arrived at the Tel Hashomer recruitment center on Wednesday to declare their refusal, accompanied by dozens of friends, relatives, and activists from Mesarvot — a refuser solidarity movement — and Banki, the youth movement of the Israeli Communist Party. They were subsequently transferred to the Neve Tzedek military prison to begin their initial period of incarceration, which is expected to be extended. Joining them was Itamar Greenberg, who is now entering his fourth period of incarceration lasting 45 days after he refused the draft in August, and has already served 105 days in prison.

“As long as we continue to enlist, follow orders, and enact our government’s rotten goals, we will live in a reality of war, annexation, and hate,” Elam wrote in his refusal statement prior to entering prison. “I want no child, no matter which side of the wall they were born, to be afraid of rockets or being kidnapped from their beds … We have to do everything in our power to make sure that the children of the future live in security.”

“We must end the war and Israel’s presence in Gaza — for the lives of both Israelis and Palestinians alike,” Behar Tsalik wrote in his statement. “There may be attempts to shift our attention to Lebanon or Iran, but the reality in Gaza does not change — we are controlling Gaza. We continue the violence there and continue to forsake the hostages.” He added: “We must move from violent confrontation to a political solution. Only then can we begin to build a lasting peace.”

Military service is compulsory for Israelis over the age of 18, with women conscripted for two years and men for nearly three. Palestinian citizens are exempt, while there is an ongoing political and legal struggle over the longstanding exemption of ultra-Orthodox Jews.

Conscientious objection is exceptionally rare, and the army often sentences refuseniks to several periods of incarceration as punishment before releasing them. Since October 7, the army appears to have increased the jail time imposed on refuseniks.

The imprisonment of Elam and Behar Tsalik, and the continued incarceration of Greenberg, follows the sentencing of five other teenagers for publicly refusing the draft for political reasons since the start of the current war: Tal Mitnick, who refused in December and was released after 185 days; Sophia Orr, who refused in February and was released after 85 days; Ben Arad, who refused in April and was released after 95 days; and Yuval Moav and Oryan Mueller, who refused alongside Greenberg in August. Mueller was released after 60 days, while Moav is still serving a sentence of 125 days which could yet be extended.

A crowd of friends, family, and activists hold a solidarity protest in support of Iddo Elam and Soul Behar Tsalik outside the Tel Hashomer recruitment center, before they declare their refusal to enlist in the Israeli army, November 27, 2024. (Oren Ziv)

+972 met with Elam and Behar Tsalik two days before their incarceration to talk about what led them to publicly refuse, the reactions from those around them, and their preparations for spending time in prison.

What is the message you hoped to convey by refusing to enlist during wartime?

Elam: I refuse because I want a future of security, in which I will not be afraid of missiles, all-out regional war, or terror attacks; a Gazan child will not be afraid that his house will be blown up or that his entire family will be killed; a child from the West Bank will not be afraid that his father will be kidnapped [by soldiers] and he will not know where he is.

I’m also refusing so that children in the next generation don’t experience another October 7. It doesn’t make sense that there have been seven wars [in Gaza] since I was born, which Gazan children have also experienced and many of them have died in. I refuse because I believe that as long as we continue to comply with the government, the war, and this agenda of death and more death, that’s exactly what we’ll get: death and more death. We must use every tool to resist, to make it stop — including refusing and paying a personal price.

Behar Tsalik: I refuse for my future and the future of my country and its neighbors. We can’t go on like this. It’s unbearable for everyone here. We need to stop going in the same circles of bloodshed and start working toward peace. I hope my refusal can be a means to strive for that. This is the most tangible action we can take right now to save as many lives as possible — Gazans, hostages, soldiers, fathers, and mothers; anyone we can.

How did you reach the decision to refuse?

Behar Tsalik: I had some kind of awakening shortly before I turned 16 and realized that I wouldn’t serve in the military. I felt less comfortable getting an exemption through other means [e.g. for mental health reasons or pacifism], so I began researching the Conscience Committee. From there, I discovered Mesarvot. I saw an interview with Einat [Gerlitz, who served 87 days in prison for refusing the draft in September 2022] and found the anti-occupation bloc at the Kaplan protests [against the Netanyahu government’s judicial overhaul].

That was it — around the age of 16 or 17, I knew this was what I was going to do. And if I’m already doing this and it’s important to me, then taking the step to do it publicly feels natural.

Elam: Similar to Soul, I experienced a significant political awakening around the age of 15. I’m active in left-wing political circles opposing the occupation. It was clear to me that I couldn’t serve, partly because I come from a family that supports avoiding the draft, and partly because once I saw how the army treats Palestinians in the occupied territories and got to know Palestinians — both Israeli citizens and residents of the West Bank — it became evident to me that I couldn’t be part of that system, both morally and in terms of my commitment to them.

A crowd of friends, family, and activists holds a solidarity protest in support of Iddo Elam and Soul Behar Tsalik outside the Tel Hashomer recruitment center, before they declare their refusal to enlist in the Israeli army, November 27, 2024. (Oren Ziv)

I considered obtaining a [mental health] exemption, but the decision to refuse came from a sense of responsibility to make it part of the struggle, a protest that would spark conversation around the occupation, the war, and conscription. I think it’s critical that young people aren’t sent to war without understanding what the war is about.

We currently have a government that you could call fascist-leaning, far right, aiming to ultimately promote settlement in Gaza, continue settling in the West Bank, and, at the fringe, even settle in Lebanon. These actions will result in the deaths of hundreds if not thousands more Israelis, and, of course, tens of thousands more Palestinians and Lebanese. I think the media, the government, and the entire system pushing for enlistment aren’t talking openly about the reality here and the war’s objectives, and I feel obligated to protest and expose these truths. And I’m doing this also for the sake of Israelis: to promote a deal for the release of hostages.

Last week, the two of you sat in a park in Tel Aviv with a sign that read: “We refuse to enlist, change our minds.” What were the reactions like? And more generally, do you think it’s possible to speak to other Israeli teenagers about refusal?

Elam: It was a very interesting experience. Not many were willing to sit down and talk with us, but in the end, we did have a few conversations. Most of the people we spoke with disagreed with our decision to refuse. Those who supported us simply passed by and said, “Good for you.” The arguments we heard were along the lines of, “But who is there on the other side to make peace with?” “Why promote peace when they’re murdering our brothers?” and, “We need as many people as possible in the army — how can you allow yourselves to refuse?” We had discussions, and I think it is possible to talk to some people.

Before the war, the anti-occupation bloc [at the anti-government protests] was growing; sometimes, it had hundreds of people, and discussion of the occupation occasionally made it to the main stage. In September, just before the war, we at Mesarvot managed to gather 390 teenagers’ signatures on a refusal letter.

But as soon as the war began, there was no one to talk to about refusal. Any attempt to discuss it led to threats or even arrests in the case of Palestinians. But now, I think there’s a renewed desire to engage in this conversation because people are realizing that the war isn’t advancing the interests of the hostages or Israelis in general.

I think the act of refusal opens a door to this discussion because it’s something you can’t ignore. Even if it upsets someone to the point where they feel they have to curse us, it’s still a starting point for a discussion about topics that can be seen as less “radical,” like the occupation or stopping the war.

Iddo Elam and Soul Behar Tsalik enter the Tel Hashomer recruitment center to declare their refusal to enlist in the Israeli army, November 27, 2024. (Oren Ziv)

Behar Tsalik: Before October 7, I felt like a window had opened to talk about this, but since then, in some places, this discourse has been rejected entirely. The cracks that had formed have been filled with patriotism, revenge, and things like that. But elsewhere, the opposite has happened: people have come to understand that this isn’t sustainable.

When we sat outside and invited people to talk with us, I felt the difference that proximity makes. Online, it’s either friends of ours or people in our circles who support us, or people writing not so nice things. But when we were there in person, quite a few people passed by and quietly said, “We support you.” It’s clear they won’t refuse themselves or encourage their children to refuse, but in their hearts, and when it’s “just between us,” they can express sympathy.

I was surprised by how many such people there were. I think most of those who spoke with us were soldiers in combat roles, and they were open to dialogue. It wasn’t about convincing or being convinced, but it was a genuine and interesting conversation. The moment they saw us face-to-face, they couldn’t reduce us to “traitors” or “enemies of Israel.” They saw us as people who want to do good.

Iddo, you mentioned that getting to know Palestinians was instrumental in your decision to refuse. Is your refusal also a message to Palestinians?

Elam: When people claim there’s no one to make peace with because the Palestinians hate us, I always say that as an Israeli I can only change my own society. But I want this act of refusal to resonate among Palestinians as well, so that they hear our messages and understand that we want peace. I know from conversations with Palestinian friends over the years that this is something they deeply value. I’m not doing this for them; I’m doing it for myself, but I want a continuous connection with them so they don’t give up on the struggle.

My relationship with Palestinian citizens of Israel, especially those in Banki, has been very important over the past year. I believe they appreciate [my decision] and see themselves as partners in the same struggle, doing very similar things within their community to promote peace and a shared Jewish-Arab future. If I’m advocating for peace, I need to engage with those who will be part of that peace.

How were your decisions to refuse received within your families and at school, for example?

Behar Tsalik: There are people at school who don’t agree with me — there were less of them before the war, and today they are the majority. But they know me, they know I want to do good.

My immediate family is very supportive. The reactions from my extended family were sometimes unpleasant. There are people in the family who know I don’t intend to serve but they don’t want to ask about it, and there are some who are really supportive. I think I’m privileged in that not everyone cuts off contact with me. Those who cut off contact are relatively distant, and I can tolerate it.

Elam: The immediate circle of friends I grew up with in Tel Aviv, who come from center-left families, supported my refusal even after October 7, although there were many difficult conversations about why I opposed the war already in October and November [2023]. For a  government that is so fascist, the only way to bring down Hamas in its eyes is to bring down Gaza. So there were a lot of harsh conversations, shouting and heated discussions with friends, but little by little it became clearer to my close friends that they also opposed the war.

Iddo Elam and Soul Behar Tsalik say goodbye to friends and family before entering the Tel Hashomer recruitment center and declaring their refusal to enlist in the Israeli army, November 27, 2024. (Oren Ziv)

I heard from people here and there at school that I am a Hamas supporter and an antisemite, even if they only saw on my [Instagram] a message against the war. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t post anything in support of Hamas.

There were situations where people yelled at me as soon as I said I was refusing, even if I had only known them for five minutes. It was sometimes difficult and a little unpleasant, but on the other hand, it encouraged me to continue. Because in the end, if there are 17- or 18-year-olds who don’t know me and hate me just because of my political opinions, then this discussion has to happen.

Among my family, luckily, I have support, and those who aren’t supportive are still trying to be nice about it. We are naturally less in touch with the religious and extreme-right members of my family.

Were you afraid of publicly refusing and going to jail at a time when there is incitement and violence toward anyone who opposes the war?

Behar Tsalik: Yes. We are not the first refuseniks since October 7, so there are people who have faced it before us who can prepare us. We know what the public reaction is, and I think it’s not all that different [to the situation before the war] — perhaps only in the number of [negative] reactions. It’s a change in quantity, not quality.

Elam: The public reaction is more frightening to me than prison. Refuseniks were already being sent to prison before the war. Those who’ve already served time in military prison during the war told us that some people are there for not enlisting [usually for less explicitly political reasons], so there’s room for discussion and some of them will understand. It is precisely the attacks by the public that have become more severe and numerous.

What tips did you get from the refuseniks who already went to prison?

Behar Tsalik: Tal [Mitnick] taught me how not to answer the question of why you’re in prison if you don’t want to get into a discussion with someone, if you’re tired and don’t have the energy.

Elam: They sent us a list of what to bring, and mainly gave us advice regarding what to say or not say and how to make people understand that you’re not evil. Because even if you don’t want to get into a political discussion, you should talk to people so that you aren’t alone.

We had a lot of conversations with past refuseniks about things like what’s going to happen in prison, what’s the schedule there, what the commanders want from you, how not to anger them, how not to get put in solitary confinement or “the wing” [the part of the prison where conditions are harsher].

You won’t have your phones, but you’re allowed to take in a few CDs and books. What will you bring?

Behar Tsalik: I am taking Mati Caspi’s “End of the Day,” which is his best album. I just bought a second-hand Belle & Sebastian album that a friend recommended to me, and a bit of jazz, Thelonious Monk. Books — a little politics, a lot of philosophy, Albert Camus, a short text by Chomsky, and Nietzsche.

Why a short text? Isn’t prison a time for long reads?

Behar Tsalik: Because I’m addicted to Instagram so I have a short attention span. I also wanted a [book with a] plot, so I asked all sorts of refuseniks for their favorite books from incarceration, which include David Foster Wallace and a book called “The Centaur” that Oryan [Mueller] gave me, as well as “Catch-22” which I thought would be funny to read in prison.

Elam: I’m a jazz player, but I found that I don’t have a lot of CDs because I collect records. With the help of a lot of my parents’ friends, I’m bringing Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On,” John Coltrane’s “My Favorite Things,” Jaco [Pastorius], [Charles] Mingus, and Miles Davis.

As for books, I also wanted to bring things that are not about politics so that I’ll have fun reading them. I’m bringing Dune, a book of poems by Mahmoud Darwish in Hebrew, and Hanoch Levin, among other things. We’ll see what I’ll be able to finish. In the next incarceration period, I would very much like to bring Gramsci’s “Prison Notebooks.”

A version of this article was first published in Hebrew on Local Call. Read it here.

Oren Ziv is a photojournalist, reporter for Local Call, and a founding member of the Activestills photography collective.

Tags: army refusal conscientious objectors Israeli army military prison October 7 war

This article was downloaded from https://www.972mag.com/iddo-elam-soul-behar-tsalik-israeli-military-refusal/ at 9 December 2024, 2:22 AM EST.

IBRAHIM MOHAMMAD || NOV 28, 2024, 10:29 AM EST || SOURCE

In besieged Beit Lahiya, rubble and decomposing corpses line the streets

Thousands of Palestinians in the city are facing relentless bombardment and famine as the Israeli army ramps up efforts to cleanse northern Gaza.

Palestinian flee the city of Beit Lahiya in the northern Gaza Strip amid Israeli bombardment, November 5, 2024. (Islam Ahmad)

“Wherever you go, you find corpses on the ground. Some are almost decomposed, while others have been run over by Israeli armored vehicles. We’re surrounded from all directions, and people don’t know where to go.”

This is the current scene in Beit Lahiya, a city at the northern tip of the Gaza Strip that has been under sustained Israeli siege and bombardment since early October, as described by 43-year-old resident Ali Hamouda.

“The city has been subjected to massive destruction of buildings and infrastructure, in an attempt to force the remaining residents to leave,” Hamouda continued. “There is no food or water, and we currently face a real famine. It’s a genocide against the residents and the displaced people who are sheltering here.”

The Israeli army launched an intense aerial and ground assault on the northernmost areas of the Gaza Strip in the early hours of Oct. 6, in an effort to empty the region of Palestinians. Much of the force of the operation was initially targeted at Jabalia refugee camp, but after forcibly displacing residents and destroying most of the camp, the military has increasingly focused its attention on Beit Lahiya.

Several hundred Palestinians have been killed as a result of Israel’s recent attacks on the city — including at least 50 in an airstrike on a multi-storey residential building on Nov. 17, and 93 in another strike on an apartment block on Oct. 29. Roughly one-third of the victims of both strikes were children.

Gaza’s civil defense rescue workers, who are barely able to operate in the north’s besieged zone, have declared Beit Lahiya a “disaster area.” The city’s two hospitals, Kamal Adwan and the Indonesian Hospital, have repeatedly come under attack. And due to the high number of casualties, residents have converted part of what was once the bustling market area into a cemetery.

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The UN estimates that between 65,000 and 75,000 Gazans remain in the besieged cities of Beit Lahiya, Beit Hanoun, and Jabalia. Mahmoud Basal, a civil defense spokesperson, put that number slightly higher: closer to 80,000.

“The situation in northern Gaza, specifically in Beit Lahiya, is extremely catastrophic,” Basal stressed, adding that Israel is dropping large missiles on residential buildings “without prior warning and with residents still inside.” He and his staff, he said, “are working in extremely difficult conditions due to the Israeli targeting of our teams. We have no equipment. We search for those trapped and pull victims from under the rubble using primitive methods.”

Many of the city’s buildings which have not been totally flattened by airstrikes, shelling, drone strikes, and bulldozers have sustained extensive shrapnel damage, making them virtually uninhabitable. Hamouda’s house was completely destroyed by an Israeli attack, forcing him and his family to take shelter in a nearby building which, he said, is “on the verge of collapsing.”

And after severing Gaza’s northern cities from the rest of the Strip, the military is preventing any food or medical supplies from entering. “My family and I are now drinking unclean water, and eating the last remaining cans of legumes,” Hamouda told +972.

Yet despite the dire conditions and the constant Israeli warnings ordering residents to evacuate southward in the direction of Gaza City, Hamouda and his family are determined not to leave. “There is no safe place anywhere in Gaza,” he said. “All residents are at risk of being bombed and killed at any moment.”

‘I saw men and women drowning in their own blood’

Shukri Al-Bodi, a 51-year-old from the neighborhood of Al-Shaima’a in Beit Lahiya, described the situation in the city as a “Nakba in the 21st century.”

“The landmarks have disappeared — it has become a pile of rubble,” he told +972. “My family and I move from place to place, fleeing from the intense shelling.”

According to Al-Bodi, the Israeli army’s relentless attacks on Beit Lahiya have left many residents without any shelter at all. “We are suffering from severe overcrowding,” he explained. “People have spread out onto the sidewalks and the streets, with no basic means of survival in the cold weather.”

Palestinian flee the city of Beit Lahiya in the northern Gaza Strip amid Israeli bombardment, November 5, 2024. (Islam Ahmad)

“The occupation is demolishing entire residential areas, and people are trapped inside their homes with nothing to eat, terrified of shells falling on them at any moment,” Al-Bodi continued. “Surveillance drones are routinely flying over us at low altitudes, and quadcopter drones are opening fire at groups of civilians to force them to leave the city.”

Nermine Labed, 31, fled Beit Lahiya on foot with her four children on Nov. 17, walking for three hours until reaching the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood in Gaza City. “We made the journey while shells flew over our heads because there is nothing to eat or drink [in Beit Lahiya], and the situation is getting more dangerous by the day,” she told +972.

“While leaving the town, I saw many bodies lying on the ground, and dogs were devouring some of them,” she recounted. “I also saw men and women who were wounded, still alive but drowning in their own blood, with no one to help them. This is not life; we are dying slowly. How much longer will this killing and destruction continue?”

Khaled Al-Omari, 27, arrived in Beit Lahiya on Oct. 14 after fleeing Jabalia refugee camp. He told +972 that the Israeli army’s siege of the city, including “snipers positioned at all of the entrances,” has severely restricted residents’ freedom of movement and left them exceedingly vulnerable. “We are terrified and always wondering when it will be our turn — it seems Israel wants to exterminate us all,” he said.

“The hardest moments I experienced were when I heard the cries of people who were alive under the rubble of their destroyed homes, which were targeted by the occupation,” Al-Omari continued. “They were calling for help, but no one could do anything for them due to the absence of civil defense teams.”

Nevertheless, Al-Omari said, he and many other refugees sheltering in the Beit Lahia Project complex decided to “resist until our last breath, despite the lack of food and water and the repeated Israeli warnings for residents to evacuate the area.”

In a statement to +972, a spokesperson for the Israeli army said that its operations in northern Gaza comply with international law, and that any claims of indiscriminate targeting are “completely baseless.” It further claimed that it was “facilitating and easing the entry of humanitarian aid” into northern Gaza, and allowing for “safer evacuations” by arranging “temporary ceasefires.” The spokesperson accused Hamas of exploiting hospitals for military purposes, which “required the IDF to take action inside hospitals against the militants.” It also claimed that “over 666 aid trucks containing food, water, and more have entered the northern Gaza Strip” since the beginning of October.

Ibrahim Mohammad is an independent Palestinian journalist from Gaza City who covers humanitarian and social issues. He holds a BA in journalism and media from Al-Aqsa University.

Tags: October 7 war Gaza beit lahiya siege Israeli army

This article was downloaded from https://www.972mag.com/beit-lahiya-gaza-rubble-corpses/ at 9 December 2024, 2:22 AM EST.

ORLY NOY || NOV 27, 2024, 1:05 PM EST || SOURCE

In Lebanon, a ceasefire is cause for celebration. Not in Israel

Israel has turned ‘total victory’ into its Messiah — a redemption that can never be realized but dictates eternal war and destruction as a way of life.

Residents of northern Israeli communities who were evacuated from their homes due to the war protest against a ceasefire, in Tel Aviv, November 26, 2024. (Avshalom Sassoni/Flash90)

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The international media was awash yesterday with clips of people in Lebanon celebrating news of the looming ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah, which came into force early this morning. As one report explained alongside a video, “The news has brought a moment of hope and relief to those affected by the ongoing conflict.”

The same video was shared by the Hebrew Instagram page “Push – Real-Time Reports,” which has more than 860,000 followers. They captioned it rather differently: “People in Lebanon celebrate the ceasefire agreement: ‘Israel surrenders to Hezbollah.’”

I double-checked with native Arabic-speaking friends, and not a word about “victory” or “defeat” can be heard in the clip. All it shows is people’s joy that the war that has destroyed much of their lives is about to end — as would be expected of most normal human beings suffering from conflict anywhere in the world.

The responses to the Instagram post, needless to say, were not joyous. The only thing they celebrated was the shattering of Lebanese lives. Comments expressed widespread anger over the emerging agreement, making cynical use of the memory of fallen soldiers whose deaths, they said, would be “in vain” if the agreement is signed. In Lebanon as in Gaza, Israelis demand nothing less than “total victory.”

This unenthusiastic reaction to the prospect of a ceasefire with Hezbollah extended far beyond the confines of social media. Among the first to oppose it were local leaders and residents of northern Israeli communities, who claimed that the emerging agreement failed to adequately address their security concerns. Eitan Davidi, chairman of Moshav Margaliot in the Upper Galilee, for instance, said any ceasefire agreement must include the condition of “a buffer zone of 2-3 kilometers, [so that] these villages, which have threatened us for many years, will belong to the past.”

A view of destruction caused by the Israeli army in the southern Lebanese village of Kafr Kela, following the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah, November 27, 2024. (David Cohen/Flash90)

On the Israeli side of the border, there are at least 28 communities within a similar radius of Lebanon — including Davidi’s own community — from which former Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant ordered residents to evacuate a year ago. How would Israel have responded to a Lebanese demand to establish a buffer zone on the Israeli side, erasing these communities from the map? Why does it seem so natural and self-evident to Israelis that their security concerns justify such massive destruction of other people’s lives?

After more than a year of warfare that has displaced tens of thousands of Israelis from their homes in the north, and which further escalated in intensity after Israeli ground troops invaded southern Lebanon nearly two months ago, one can certainly sympathize with their concerns. For many of them, this period has been hellish, the backbone of their communities has been shattered, and they’ve been left economically devastated. But displaced residents were far from alone in frowning at the prospect of a ceasefire.

In a mild panic on Monday, Channel 14, Netanyahu’s propaganda channel, rushed to publish a public opinion poll showing that 55 percent of the Israeli public oppose halting the war in the north. During a studio discussion, Yaron Buskila, secretary-general of the Israel Defense and Security Forum (known in Hebrew as “HaBithonistim”), emphasized that there is “wall-to-wall opposition” to the agreement within the Israeli defense establishment. They even found a Lebanese citizen who declared that “the IDF has achieved tremendous successes and must eliminate Hezbollah once and for all.”

Channel 14’s Pavlovian opposition to any attempt at de-escalation was predictable, but they were by no means the exception. Yossi Yehoshua, the military and defense correspondent for the centrist Yedioth Ahronoth newspaper, for example, was also dissatisfied. “Those who achieve a clear victory dictate the terms of a ceasefire, and if the other side doesn’t accept them, then you keep pounding them,” he wrote in response to the emerging agreement. “Otherwise, it’s not a victory, and certainly not a total victory.”

While Yehoshua admitted that “entire villages [in southern Lebanon] have been flattened,” he quickly went on to wonder, “what will happen if a Lebanese resident wants to return and rebuild their home? And suppose they arrive in civilian clothes — who can guarantee us that they aren’t a Shiite affiliated with Hezbollah, maybe even a fighter?”

Again, try to imagine how Israel would react if a mainstream Lebanese reporter called to destroy any civilian town or community from which the Israeli military launched attacks on their territory. But Yehoshua was promised a total victory; anything less would simply be a broken promise.

Israeli soldiers seen on the Israeli side of the border with Lebanon, following the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah, November 27, 2024. (David Cohen/Flash90)

Naturally, similar reactions were heard within the political sphere, and from both ends of the spectrum. In an impassioned appeal to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, far-right National Security Minister Itamar Ben Gvir pleaded: “Mr. Prime Minister, don’t make this mistake. We are on the verge of a historic victory; we must continue, continue, continue.”

Even Benny Gantz, the spineless opposition figure who supported every despicable war crime Netanyahu committed in Gaza and fervently defended him after the International Criminal Court issued an arrest warrant against him, chose to outflank the prime minister from the right, and criticize his intention to reach a ceasefire. “We must not do a half job,” he declared.

I asked a Palestinian journalist friend of mine to gather some reactions from Lebanese residents, some of them fellow journalists, about the forthcoming ceasefire. “We’re trying not to be overly optimistic because it is well-known that Israel often says no [to a ceasefire] at the last minute, but in general, everyone really wants the war to end,” one said. “Hezbollah supporters believe a ceasefire would be a victory, but other Lebanese people feel that the scale of destruction and death negates any notion of victory,” said another. “People from the south, from Baalbek and Dahiyeh are desperately yearning to return to their homes,” a third said. “Inshallah, one day soon in Gaza as well,” said a fourth.

It is astonishing how this normal human reaction — wishing for a war to end, instead of going on indefinitely — is completely inverted when it comes to the Israeli public. Presumably it has something to do with the fact that their leaders have been promising, for more than a year now, some kind of amorphous “total victory.” No one knows what exactly this is supposed to look like, but as long as there is something left to destroy, it’s clear that it has not yet been achieved, and the public remains unsatisfied.

Yeshayahu Leibowitz, the late Israeli polymath and philosopher, used to say that “the Messiah is he who always will come,” framing redemption in the future tense. This is the function that messianic longing is supposed to serve in the life of a Jew: constantly obliging us to correct our ways in anticipation of their arrival. In a horrifying twist, Israel has turned war, destruction, and devastation into its Messiah — a redemption that can never be realized but dictates eternal war as a way of life.

A version of this article was first published in Hebrew on Local Call. Read it here.

Orly Noy is an editor at Local Call, a political activist, and a translator of Farsi poetry and prose. She is the chair of B’Tselem’s executive board and an activist with the Balad political party. Her writing deals with the lines that intersect and define her identity as Mizrahi, a female leftist, a woman, a temporary migrant living inside a perpetual immigrant, and the constant dialogue between them.

Tags: Lebanon October 7 war ceasefire Hezbollah Israeli army

This article was downloaded from https://www.972mag.com/lebanon-israel-ceasefire-total-victory/ at 9 December 2024, 2:23 AM EST.

MOHAMMED R. MHAWISH || NOV 26, 2024, 3:33 PM EST || SOURCE

‘The ICC’s findings so far have only scratched the surface’

Netanyahu and Gallant's arrest warrants are a victory for international justice even if enforcement remains a challenge, says Palestinian lawyer Raji Sourani.

Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Minister of Defense Yoav Galant hold a joint press conference at the Ministry of Defense, in Tel Aviv. October 28, 2023. (Dana Kopel/Pool)

Last week, the International Criminal Court in The Hague issued arrest warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former Defense Minister Yoav Gallant. The court’s judges, in their Nov. 21 ruling, found that there were reasonable grounds to believe that the pair were responsible for war crimes and crimes against humanity committed in the context of Israel’s ongoing war on Gaza — namely, using starvation as a method of warfare, as well as “murder, persecution, and other inhumane acts.”

The ICC’s judges issued an additional warrant for the arrest of Hamas’ military chief Mohammed Deif, whom the Israeli army claimed it killed in July but whose death Hamas never confirmed; the group insisted at the time that Deif survived the assassination attempt, but has reportedly since acknowledged that he likely died. The court’s chief prosecutor, Karim Khan, had also requested arrest warrants for Hamas leaders Ismail Haniyeh and Yahya Sinwar, but Israel subsequently killed both men, in August and October respectively.

The ICC launched a formal criminal investigation into war crimes and crimes against humanity in Israel-Palestine in 2021, when judges ruled that the court has jurisdiction over crimes committed in the occupied Palestinian territories and those committed by Palestinians inside Israel. The scope of the investigation dates back to 2014, but these warrants relate specifically to the period between Oct. 8, 2023, and May 20, 2024.

The decision also spells the defeat of an almost decade-long multi-agency Israeli campaign of surveillance and intimidation that aimed to thwart the ICC’s probe, which +972 Magazine, Local Call and the Guardian revealed earlier this year.

To understand more about the significance of this ruling, +972 spoke with Raji Sourani, a human rights lawyer and director of the Gaza-based Palestinian Center for Human Rights (PCHR), one of several Palestinian human rights organizations that Israel surveilled while it provided testimony to the chief prosecutor’s office. In the following conversation, Sourani — who is currently based in Cairo, after fleeing the genocide in Gaza — unpacks the legal and political ramifications of the ICC’s decision, its historical context, and what it means for accountability in the ongoing Israeli assault on the Strip.

Raji Sourani (Courtesy)

The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Can you break down what it means that the ICC has issued arrest warrants for Netanyahu and Gallant?

The decision to issue these warrants after a meticulous legal review signals the seriousness of the charges. It affirms allegations of Netanyahu and Gallant bearing responsibility for war crimes and crimes against humanity, particularly the use of starvation as a weapon of war and the intentional targeting of civilians in Gaza.

However, as significant as this step is, enforcement remains the ICC’s Achilles’ heel. While it has the authority to prosecute crimes of this magnitude, the court has no independent police or military force to execute these warrants. It relies entirely on its 124 member states, who are signatories to the Rome Statute [the court’s founding treaty], to act as its enforcers, arresting suspects within their borders. While this is a legal obligation under international law, enforcement is often subject to the political will of these states.

So should we expect to see them stand trial anytime soon?

Historically, the court’s reliance on member states to enforce warrants has led to selective compliance. For example, when Sudanese President Omar Al-Bashir was indicted for war crimes in Darfur, he travelled to several ICC member states without being apprehended. Similarly, Russian President Vladimir Putin, wanted for alleged war crimes in Ukraine, was recently welcomed in Mongolia, another ICC member, without consequence.

In the case of Netanyahu and Gallant, much will depend on where they travel, which is something they must now think carefully about. Initial reactions to the warrants have been encouraging, with several countries and organizations reaffirming their commitment to international justice. The European Union, with all 29 of its member states bound by the Rome Statute, has indicated through Josep Borrell [the EU’s high representative for foreign affairs and security policy] that they are obligated to act on these warrants. However, the political ramifications of arresting sitting or recently serving Israeli officials could deter even the most committed states.

Josep Borrell, during his hearing for the position of the High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy of the European Union, October 7, 2019. (European Parliament)

The United States, a staunch ally of Israel and also not an ICC member, has openly condemned these warrants. This geopolitical shielding undermines the ICC’s authority and complicates its ability to hold powerful actors accountable.

How might the United States’ opposition shape the global response to the warrants and, more broadly, affect the credibility and enforcement of ICC rulings?

The U.S. response to the ICC warrants is deeply troubling but not surprising. Historically, the United States has acted as Israel’s most ardent defender on the international stage, providing it with military aid, political cover, and diplomatic immunity. But its response to the warrants is both hypocritical and contradictory.

The United States frequently invokes international law to criticize adversaries, yet it rejects the very institutions it expects others to respect when its allies are implicated. Notably, it is not a signatory to the Rome Statute, the treaty that established the ICC. This undermines its moral authority to challenge the court’s legitimacy while also highlighting its unwillingness to be subject to the same standards it promotes globally.

The White House’s outright dismissal of the ICC warrants is a dangerous signal. It emboldens Israel to continue its policies of occupation, settlement expansion, and military aggression with the assurance of American protection. Furthermore, it discourages other nations from cooperating with the ICC out of fear of political repercussions.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu meets with U.S. President Joe Biden in Tel Aviv, October 18, 2023. (Miriam Alster/Flash90)

International law’s credibility relies on its universal application. Selective enforcement undermines the entire system and raises legitimate questions about its impartiality. When powerful nations or their allies evade accountability, the rule of law becomes subordinate to political power.

The ICC, to its credit, has sought to challenge this perception by targeting individuals from both powerful and weaker states. However, the failure to enforce these warrants risks reinforcing skepticism about its ability to act as a true arbiter of justice.

What needs to happen in order for Israel’s leaders to actually be brought to justice?

The ICC’s role as a “court of last resort” means that its success depends on the broader international community’s willingness to uphold the rule of law. If member states fail to enforce these warrants, it risks turning accountability into a symbolic gesture rather than a tangible outcome.

This marks the beginning of a long legal and political battle. For justice advocates, the challenge is to ensure that the ICC’s decisions are not only recognized but also acted upon, even in the face of immense political pressure. And international actors must prioritize legal obligations over political alliances.

While this is easier said than done, sustained pressure from global movements can shift the political calculus over time. Even in states with strong political ties to Israel, public opinion and grassroots pressure could make non-compliance politically costly.

Pro-Palestinian protesters in Washington demonstrate against Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu during his speech to the U.S. Congress, July 24, 2024. (Arie Leib Abrams/Flash90)

Lastly, the ICC must remain steadfast in its mission, despite the obstacles. It may work slowly and face setbacks, but the court’s existence is a testament to the enduring pursuit of justice. Every step, however incremental, contributes to the larger goal of holding perpetrators accountable and reaffirming the principles of international law.

Does the lack of enforcement mechanisms diminish the significance of these warrants? Will they have any other impact?

Issuing these warrants carries immense symbolic and legal weight. It is a victory for the principles of international justice, representing a critical step toward accountability for war crimes and crimes against humanity. It sends a powerful message that no one is above the law, not even the leaders of states with significant military and political power.

The warrants also challenge the long-standing perception that Israel operates with impunity. They vindicate decades of meticulous efforts by Palestinian civil society and international human rights organizations to document Israel’s violations in Gaza, the West Bank, and East Jerusalem, laying the groundwork for the ICC’s investigation and pressuring the international community to act. It is a milestone that strengthens the global recognition of Palestinian rights, even if it does not immediately deliver justice on the ground.

The decision also establishes a legal precedent that aims not only to hold individuals accountable but also to act as a tool of deterrence that could influence future actions by other leaders and countries.

Heads of Palestinian NGOs speak to the media outside of Al-Haq’s offices after the Israeli army raided their offices, Ramallah, West Bank, August 18, 2022. (Oren Ziv)

What do you make of the court’s decision to issue an arrest warrant for a Hamas leader alongside Israeli leaders?

Targeting civilians is a violation of international law, no matter the context. But there is a need to uphold Palestinians’ rights to self-defense and resistance within the bounds of international law. I think focusing on individuals like Deif without addressing the broader context of occupation and apartheid risks undermining the legitimacy of the Palestinian struggle, and equating the occupied with the occupier.

The decision to issue a warrant for Deif can be seen as part of a pattern whereby the international community places disproportionate focus on the actions of the oppressed rather than the oppressor. I’ve long emphasized that the Palestinian struggle exists within the context of prolonged occupation, blockade, and systemic violence, which creates conditions where resistance emerges. International rulings need to reflect this broader reality.

True justice requires a comprehensive approach that holds all parties accountable, particularly those in positions of power perpetuating systemic violence. There has to be a stronger focus on Israel’s actions and for the international community to address the structural conditions that drive conflict.

Considering the breadth of the ICC’s investigative scope, do you foresee additional indictments for other individuals implicated in these alleged crimes?

Additional indictments are not just possible — they are probable. The ICC’s jurisdiction covers crimes committed since 2014, a period that encompasses a wide range of documented violations, including extrajudicial killings, illegal settlements, and the blockade of Gaza. These are not isolated incidents but part of a broader pattern of systemic oppression.

Al-Haq director Shawan Jabarin hands a confidential communication to ICC Prosecutor Fatou Bensouda in the Hague, November 23, 2015. (Photo courtesy of Al-Haq)

The ongoing nature of these crimes ensures that the investigation will expand. The ICC’s findings so far have only scratched the surface. The court is building a comprehensive legal framework that will likely implicate other high-ranking officials and military commanders. This is a long process, but the implications are far-reaching.

The warrants may also serve as a deterrent to other Israeli political and military officials, signaling that they, too, could face international accountability. It could lead them to be more cautious in their operations in Gaza or Lebanon due to the threat of future arrest warrants.

Besides the potential for the arrest of Netanyahu and Gallant, what other economic and diplomatic consequences could arise from the court’s ruling?

The ICC’s decision has far-reaching economic and diplomatic implications, particularly for Israel’s relationships with the EU. As Josep Borrell rightly stated, this is a legal decision with binding consequences for EU member states. Israel’s preferential trade agreements with the EU, which exempt 65 percent of its exports from customs duties, are now under serious scrutiny.

It is ethically and legally indefensible for the EU to maintain these privileges while the sitting prime minister of Israel face charges of genocide and war crimes. Similarly, Israel’s participation in European sports leagues, cultural exchanges, and academic programs like Erasmus must be reconsidered. These partnerships starkly contradict the legal and moral weight of the ICC’s findings.

Economic consequences could extend beyond the EU. Countries in the Global South, many of which have been vocal in supporting the ICC’s mandate, may impose their own restrictions on trade and collaboration with Israel. This would not only isolate Israel diplomatically but also pressure it to comply with international law.

Bethlehem Municipality employees raise a South African flag in support of their lawsuit against Israel to the International Court of Justice (ICJ), in the West Bank city of Bethlehem, January 16, 2024. (Wisam Hashlamoun/Flash90)

Israel has a long history of resisting external pressure, often doubling down on its policies in the face of international criticism. However, sustained economic and diplomatic isolation could force a recalibration. The loss of preferential trade agreements or cultural partnerships would not just harm Israel economically but also erode its international legitimacy.

Ultimately, the ICC’s decision is a watershed moment. It sets a new standard for accountability in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, challenging the status quo and opening the door for broader legal, political, and economic consequences. Whether these pressures will compel Israel to change its policies remains to be seen, but the precedent has been set, and the world is watching.

You’ve highlighted the West’s hypocrisy when it comes to addressing war crimes. How does the international response to Palestine differ from other conflicts, such as that between Russia and Ukraine?

The international response to Palestine has long been characterized by a glaring double standard. The contrast with the reaction to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is a stark example. Within months of the invasion, the ICC indicted Vladimir Putin, and the international community imposed sweeping sanctions on Russia. This swift and decisive action underscores a global consensus that war crimes must not go unpunished.

Yet, when it comes to Palestine, the same urgency is glaringly absent. For decades, Palestinians have faced systematic violence, displacement, and occupation, but the international response has been tepid at best. Calls for sanctions against Israel or legal accountability for its leaders are met with resistance, often dismissed as politically motivated or antisemitic.

Palestinian students protest against a bill that would ban waving Palestinian flags at Israeli universities, at the Tel Aviv University, May 28, 2023. (Tomer Neuberg/Flash90)

This hypocrisy erodes the credibility of international law and institutions, raising serious questions about their impartiality. It also reinforces the perception that the rights of Palestinians are less important than those of others. However, the ICC’s recent decision challenges this narrative, signaling that even Israel’s leaders are not immune from scrutiny.

What does the ICC’s ruling symbolize for the Palestinian struggle for justice and liberation?

The road to justice is fraught with challenges. Israel and its allies have vigorously opposed ICC proceedings, using political, legal, and even coercive measures to derail accountability efforts. Legal professionals involved in these cases have faced threats, while Israel continues to dismiss the court’s jurisdiction.

Despite these obstacles, the Palestinian legal community has remained steadfast. Over decades, they have meticulously documented atrocities, built robust legal cases, and presented irrefutable evidence to international bodies. The ICC’s decision is a testament to their resilience and dedication. It represents a growing recognition of Palestinian rights on the international stage and challenges the long-standing impunity enjoyed by Israel.

At the same time, it is essential to recognize that justice for Palestinians will not come solely through legal channels. It requires a broader political, social, and international commitment to addressing the root causes of the conflict: occupation, displacement, and apartheid.

The ICC’s decision is significant, but it is only one piece of a much larger puzzle. The broader struggle for justice and liberation continues, empowered by the resilience and determination of the Palestinian people. As international attention grows, so too does the imperative to act decisively and hold Israel accountable for its actions.

Mohammed R. Mhawish is a Palestinian journalist and writer from Gaza, currently living in exile. He is a contributor to the book "A Land With A People — Palestinians and Jews Confront Zionism" (Monthly Review Press Publication, 2021).

Tags: ICC International law Benjamin Netanyahu Palestinian activists Rome Statute accountability

This article was downloaded from https://www.972mag.com/raji-sourani-icc-arrest-warrants/ at 9 December 2024, 2:23 AM EST.

Table of Contents

+972 Mag: 2024 Dec 5

All articles

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‘The ICC’s findings so far have only scratched the surface’