Greater Israel and Occupied Palestine

Between the 1948 and 1967 wars, politics savagely invaded the lives of everyone living between the River Jordan in the east and the Mediterranean in the west. Elite politics, more militarized and nationalized than ever before, now demanded the full attention, daily participation and unconditional loyalty of Palestinians and Jews alike. There were very few islands of peace where people felt immune from the intrusion. Political elites on both sides had a hold over their societies that they had never had before and would not have again for a long time. Dissenting voices were stifled, and any remaining impulses towards cohabitation disappeared almost entirely. But we also find elite politics beginning to lose its importance in people's lives. This was particularly true after the 1973 war. For many groups not occupying centre stage, politics was only one of the media through which they interacted with the state or the national elites. As most marginalized groups also suffered from economic deprivation, their main concern was daily survival. Tradition and culture continued to act as anchors or defence mechanisms in the face of a harsh reality.

Israel's eventual unilateral withdrawal from Gaza and the erection of its ‘security barrier’ in the West Bank could constitute a revolutionary change of the status quo in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Strategically, Israel’s moves are an implicit acknowledgment that any aspiration to a ‘Greater Israel’ is demographically untenable. On a more tactical level, they are warnings to the Palestinians that restraining terrorism remains the sine qua non of reviving the peace process premised on the ‘roadmap’ and prospects for the creation of a Palestinian state. Hamas, the strongest of the religiously-motivated Palestinian terrorist groups, is the most formidable impediment to these objectives. The question remains whether the Israeli withdrawal will make Hamas easier or harder to control and neutralise.

This study focuses on a 2012 interview between Julian Assange and Sayyid Hasan Nasrallah, leader of the Lebanese resistance organization Hezbollah. The analysis explores how the interview platform, World Tomorrow, provided a space for Nasrallah to articulate his group's narrative regarding their resistance activities against Israeli occupation and their views on the Palestinian struggle. The conversation delves into the historical context of Hezbollah's emergence, the war in Syria, and the rationale behind the U.S. government's efforts to block Hezbollah's media network, Al Manar. This case highlights the tension between freedom of speech and state control of information, particularly when dealing with designated terrorist organizations.The backdrop for the interview is the broader context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the concept of a "Greater Israel" envisioned by some within Israeli governance. The success of Hezbollah's resistance tactics in forcing Israel's withdrawal from South Lebanon in 2000 and their further military resistance during the 2006 invasion solidified their image as a potent force against Israeli occupation. This stands in stark contrast to the portrayal of Hezbollah as a terrorist organization by Western powers. The analysis examines how Al Manar functions as a tool for Hezbollah's resistance efforts, specifically by countering the dominant narrative of Israeli invincibility and promoting a perspective of Palestinian liberation. The study contributes to the understanding of how media platforms can be utilized by non-state actors to challenge established narratives and garner support for their cause in a globalized media environment.

Choosing to Ask the Hard Questions:Thoughts on approaching the Israeli-Palestinian conflict Rebecca Subar (bio) Abstract The author relates her own movement from Orthodox Zionist to secular humanist, finding in it a lesson regarding the need to engage in a variety of strategies for meaningful peace work on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. She draws a distinction between «engagement» (usually dialogue or negotiation) and «resistance» (active protest not requiring the consent of the other party). The author argues that both strategies are useful, but that American Jewish activists need to consciously move from one to the other based on strategic necessity and ethical rightness, rather than allowing fears and biases to predispose us to certain forms of action. It's Complicated It is 1982; a group of Israelis from Peace Now rides a bus from Kibbutz Gezer to protest the groundbreaking of the new yeshiva1 in Neve Dekalim. Neve Dekalim is still only sand near the Mediterranean Sea, but it is meant to become the commercial center of Jewish settlement in the southern Gaza Strip. The cornerstone of the new Yeshivat Yamit has been [End Page 91] salvaged from the settlement of Yamit, returned to Egypt months earlier as part of the Camp David agreement. The guest speaker at the groundbreaking is Agriculture Minister Ariel Sharon, hero to the settlers. One young protester, Michael from Rochester, NY, USA, looks across the barricade to the settlers celebrating in sandals, kippot or headscarves. One of the settler women, holding her baby, is wearing a jeans skirt, glasses, blonde hair peeking out from her scarf—she looks familiar… Actually it's me Michael recognizes. We are a long way from Rochester, from Brighton High School, from Zionist youth groups. He crosses the barricade. It is a surprise and also a delight to see a face from home. "But Rebecca, how can you be part of what these people are doing to the Arabs??!" "Oh, Michael. Our rabbis visit with the Sheikhs, it's not like on the West Bank. I could never treat the Arabs as unequal; I would not be morally capable of hurting them." A thousand times since, I have pictured Michael putting down his sign, crossing that barricade, offering me a critical jostling, which was probably one-third of the fuel I needed to spin on my heel in a radical shift away from the life I was born into. The steps I took from a loving Orthodox home in Rochester to young married life in Greater Israel were an un-shocking sequence. But my response to a set of dissonant currents—Michael's admonishment in Neve Dekalim, a troubled marriage, lifelong skepticism about the necessity of religious practice—was one jarring, giant step into a personal diaspora. By 1984, we had left Gaza and Jerusalem for Los Angeles, trying to steady the pieces of a listing marriage. After a few months reflecting on my attraction to women and other puzzle pieces that couldn't be pushed into place, I put my two babies in the car and drove away on shabbes.2 Soon the scarf came off, the jeans skirt became jeans, and everything became subject to question. My father's grandfather came to Michigan from Lazdei, Lithuania around 1900, and soon joined the rest of his family in Jerusalem. In 1939, my great-grandfather built a 3-story stone house at 20 Malachi Street. My Yerusha-almi3 cousins are known for their humility and for hazzanut—their lovely singing voices. (I got the voice.) My parents were married in Rochester in 1948, and saved for twenty years until they were sure that I, the youngest, at age eight, was ready to appreciate a trip to Israel. We slept at Aunt Betty's in Yerushalayim, and we brought her a remarkable gift: my father had arranged to have a record made of her husband's zemiros.4 Before Uncle Morris died, my father had sat him down with a microphone and recorded an hour's worth of 7 inch reel-to-reel tape of Uncle Morris singing his original shabbes songs. As I write this article, my 82-year-old father calls with news: he and my...

This research examines the evolution of the degree of personal trust given to the Palestinians by the Israeli-Jewish public following the signing of the Oslo Accords. Based on continuous monthly surveys of the adult Jewish population, the findings reveal that already at the early stages of the “Oslo process,” slightly over a half of adult Israeli Jews did not believe that it would lead to a lasting peace agreement with the Palestinians. With the passage of time the trust in Oslo further deteriorated to the extent that in recent years less than one-fifth of Israeli Jews believed in the chances for peace. Furthermore, about the same percentage do not have personal trust in the Palestinians or believe that Palestinians can be trusted as a whole. Likewise, the vast majority assume that the Palestinians do not trust the Israelis. These findings are explained in terms of the evolution of the Israeli--Palestinian conflict which began at the end of the nineteenth century and its continuation ever since. While the signing of the Oslo Accords in 1993 could have potentially paved the way to resolve the conflict, it appears that neither side was ready to perceive it as a nonzero-sum game according to which both sides recognize the necessity of mutual concessions in order to achieve a lasting peace agreement. Notwithstanding the responsibility of the Palestinian side, the non-compromising attitude on the Israeli side derived from basic changes in its socio-demographic and power structure during recent decades that has led to the political hegemony of the religious and secular Right. This trend has intensified various sociopsychological barriers, such as fear and prejudice that contributed to the distrust in the Palestinians. Furthermore, for the radical Right, this widespread distrust is highly functional since it facilitates the legitimization of its ultimate vision of sovereignty over “Greater Israel” within the Israeli-Jewish public. However, given Israel’s critical dependence for its survival on the mobilization of political, military, and economic resources from the outside world, and given the latter’s consistent objection to the idea of “Greater Israel,” Israel’s fate might ultimately be decided by the international community—for better or worse.

The Palestinian-Israeli conflict is one of the thorniest conflicts in the world. The life of the Palestinians in refugee camps under occupation is very difficult. Curfews, checkpoints, detention, and violence permeate all aspects of their daily life. Striving against poverty, their vicious enemy, and the constant struggle to survive are daily nightmares. However, they are often perceived as terrorists and war criminals. Dixiane Hallaj’s Refugee without Refuge: A Novel of One Palestinian Family is an attempt to highlight the problems Palestinians face in the refugee camps in occupied Palestine. The novel engages in establishing the relationship between the horrendous living conditions of the Palestinians and the aggression of the Israeli occupation forces on one hand and the violent reaction of the Palestinians on the other. It demonstrates that suicide bombing committed by the Palestinians is a rebounding of the Israeli violence and atrocities exercised against the Palestinians and that such lethal acts have no relation to religion or politics. They are personal decisions and acts taken after a long tragic suffering under the yoke of occupation. This article argues that Hallaj’s novel challenges the familiar notions and preconceptions of Palestinians as violence agitators, suicide bombers, and terrorists, which are propagated by western media and literature. The article focuses on Hallaj’s depiction of the Palestinian suffering and their final determination to get rid of their persecutors using violence after all nonviolent means become impossible. Psychoanalysis theory is applied to the novel to criticize the protagonist’s motives to attempt suicide bombing.

The paper discusses the political significance and historical accuracy of maps that visualize competing historical claims about the land of Palestine, with specific emphasis on maps that have recently been the object of debate or criticism. After an initial overview of the role played by cartographic representations of ancient Israel and of the land of Palestine in the history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the paper presents the recent debates on the “Disappearing Palestine” map series and on the resurgence of visual representations of “greater Israel” promoted even by official Israeli social media account. By discussing the historical accuracy of these representations and the political agendas that they (and their critics) intend to promote, it confutes some of the criticism levelled against the visual representation of the Palestinian loss of land since the Mandate, and provides a critical outlook into the role of scientific objectivity in the cartographic representation of intractable conflicts.

This paper discusses the present Israeli-Palestinian war, with an emphasis on the destructive clash between two utopian visions: the vision of “Greater Israel” – including all Palestinian territories – of the far right in Israel, and the vision of destroying the state of Israel, fundamental in Hamas ideology. The dystopic result of this clash is explored from a psychoanalytic point of view, relying in part on Ogden’s notion of historicity as achieved only in the depressive position, and Jessica Benjamin’s notion of a “doer and done-to” mode which excludes recognition of the reciprocal interaction that is essential to that historicity. A brief review of the history of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, lasting more than a hundred years, points to the constant reciprocal influences leading to its deterioration, and ends with the hope for a pragmatic compromise that would alleviate the suffering and traumatization on both sides.

Israeli–Palestinian relations witnessed dramatic changes from 2001–2006. Sharon came to power, the second intifada (uprising) raged, Arafat died, Israel withdrew from Gaza, and Sharon fell ill and out of political life. Israel's embrace of unilateralism led to the Gaza disengagement and the construction of a barrier in the West Bank. Why did Israel embrace unilateralism? Israel's unilateral approach to the Palestinian question resulted from the failure of three other approaches to addressing the conflict: bilateral diplomacy, Greater Israel and settlements, and military suppression. Unilateralism was not inevitable, but Israelis and Palestinians missed opportunities to pursue other pathways. The United States also missed chances to jump-start bilateral diplomacy. The United States role in these years was less consistent and less pro-active than under the first President Bush and President Clinton.

If You Wish It—It Is the West Bank: The Israeli Regime in the West Bank in the First Decade, 1967–1976 [Im Tirtzu—Zo Hagada

This chapter discusses different aspects of the Arab–Israeli conflict over time — military, political, and economic. The first two decades of the Arab–Israeli conflict, often marked by armed hostilities, were notable for Arab refusal to recognize Israel's existence. Since the 1967 war, Arab states, specifically Syria and Saudi Arabia, have displayed willingness to recognize Israel, and two, Egypt and Jordan, have signed peace treaties; Yasser Arafat recognized Israel's right to exist in the 1993 Oslo agreement. In this regard, most Arab states have adopted a realist approach to the Arab–Israeli conflict, seeking coexistence based in part on acceptance of Israel's military supremacy. In contrast, Israel appears to insist on security through regional domination, coupled with retention of the West Bank as Greater Israel.

This chapter discusses the internal political development of the Jewish community in Palestine and, after 1948, of the State of Israel. The rise of popular politics in the early 1930s culminated in the hegemony of the Left, which was the predominant power in Israeli politics from 1933 until 1977. The predominant leader was David Ben Gurion, who retired in 1963. The Left was mostly pragmatic, with a social democratic agenda that emphasized the role of the state in the economy and culture, promoting a narrative that glorified the predominance of the Left in nation and state building. In 1977 there was a change of direction: the right-wing opposition won the elections. The government now moved toward a free enterprise economy and a new narrative, which emphasized the question of Greater Israel as the focal point of government and state interest. The clash between Left and Right in Israel was no longer centered on questions of economy and society but rather on external policy. Growing polarization between Left and Right, Ashkenazi Jews and Mizrahim (Middle Eastern Jews), Orthodox and secular, and Israeli Arabs and Israeli Jews has typified Israel politics in the last two decades.

Just last summer, the seven-year-old Israeli-Palestinian peace process seemed on the verge of success. Palestinian Authority (pa) Chairman Yasir Arafat and Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak met with President Bill Clinton at Camp David and came close to agreement. But Arafat walked away from a deal at the last moment, and less than three months later the Occupied Territories erupted in violence. Now, after months of bloodshed and with the death toll approaching 400, it has become fashionable to say that the Oslo process (so called for the city where talks first began) is dead. Rumors of its demise, however, have been exaggerated. Its central objective? transforming the existential Israeli-Palestinian conflict by ending Israel's mutually harmful control over three million Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza?remains as crucial today as it was seven years ago. It was in Oslo in 1993 that the Israeli government, under then Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, first agreed to withdraw from parts of the West Bank and Gaza and opted definitively for territorial partition. With this shift in Israeli policy, Rabin crushed the Israeli right's dream of a Greater Israel. And he signaled his support for a