Palestinians and the dilemmas of solidarity
14 May 2015
Palestinians in present-day Israel march on the lands of destroyed villages near Tiberias on 23 April.
(Oren Ziv / ActiveStills)
Solidarity with the Palestinian people retreated internationally
since the early 1990s in view of the collapse of the Soviet Union and
the ensuing
Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) collaboration with the US and Israel to liquidate the Palestinian anti-colonial struggle through the
Oslo accords.
In recent years, however, this solidarity has made a comeback with the
expanding endorsement of the Palestinian campaign to boycott, divest
from and sanction Israel, or
BDS.
As international support of the Palestinians ebbed after 1991 at the
level of states and civil societies, the tide has turned again in the
last 10 years, with the realization on the part of many initial
endorsers of Oslo that the accords were a ruse to deepen Israeli
colonization. This is especially so in the civil societies of Western
Europe and North America, but also and increasingly at the level of
European government policy, with recent murmurings in the Obama
administration that its policy might also change in view of Israeli
Prime Minister
Benjamin Netanyahu’s
recent electoral victory and the latter’s frank declaration that no
Palestinian state would be established during his tenure. Recapping this
ebb and flow in pro-Palestinian solidarity is necessary in order to
understand and analyze the more recent solidarity strategies and the
anti-Palestinian counter strategies devised by Israel and its friends to
defeat them.
The post-1990 “peace process,” beginning with the
1991 conference at Madrid,
brought about major transformations in global solidarity with the
Palestinians. While the world had until that moment supported the
Palestinian people’s right of return to their homeland in a UN
resolution that continues to be reaffirmed annually, much of the world
now seems to support some form of compensation, if anything. While much
of the world supported the dismantling of Israel as a racist settler
colony, evidenced by the
1975 UN resolution that identified Zionism as “a form of racism and racial discrimination,” by 1991, much of the world
repealed
that very same resolution. While much of the world was then decided on
isolating Israel diplomatically as one of three pariah states (apartheid
South Africa and Taiwan being the others), now most of them have
established diplomatic relations with it.
The only Palestinian right that most of the world seems to still
support is the right of some West Bank and Gaza Palestinians (but not
Jerusalemites) to self-determination and the end of Israeli occupation
in parts of the West Bank and Gaza (but not East Jerusalem). The right
of the Palestinians to resist the occupation, which had much global
support previously, was supported after Oslo by a only few. This loss of
support was not confined to states and governments but included
political movements, activists and individuals.
Throughout the 1960s and the 1970s, the PLO expressed a clear vision
of what liberation from Zionist colonialism meant. This was articulated
by
Yasser Arafat at the United Nations in his
famous speech in 1974
and in other PLO statements. The diagnosis of Zionism was clear:
Zionism is a racist colonial movement that discriminates against Jews
themselves and allies itself with imperialism; Israel is a racist
colonial state that discriminates against its Palestinian citizens and
prevents those Palestinians it expelled from returning; and Israel is a
settler colony intent on territorial expansion and the occupation of the
lands of neighboring countries.
The solution was also clear (although in need of refinement): the establishment of a secular democratic state in all of
Mandatory Palestine,
where Arabs and Jews would have equal rights. It was in this context
that international support and solidarity at the official and unofficial
levels declared Zionism to be racist, tirelessly reaffirmed the right
of expelled Palestinians to return to their homes and lands and affirmed
the legitimate rights of Palestinians under Israeli occupation to
resist their occupier.
The Palestinian guerrilla struggle attracted huge international support and included volunteers who joined the
fidayyin
fighters in Jordan and Lebanon in the late 1960s and the 1970s. They
came from the four corners of the globe — from Japan, Spain, Italy,
Germany, Argentina and Colombia, to Nicaragua, Iran, South Africa and
Turkey and from across the Arab world. Though most of the supporters
came from the Third World, many West Europeans showed other forms of
solidarity with the Palestinians, demonstrating and writing on their
behalf in their home countries and opposing their own countries’ support
for Israel. Even France was represented by no less a figure than Jean
Genet who came to Amman to document the Palestinian struggle.
Arab solidarity with the Palestinians goes back much earlier to 1917
and onwards. That Izz al-Din al-Qassam, the first Palestinian martyr
whose death at the hand of the British occupiers inaugurated the Great
Palestinian Revolt of 1936-1939 against the British and Zionist
colonization, came from what is today considered Syria was hardly
exceptional, as Arab volunteers would also join the Palestinian struggle
after the December 1947 Zionist onslaught and invasion of the country
which brought about the expulsion of most Palestinians. That the Arab
states intervened in mid-May 1948 officially to put a stop to the
Zionist expulsion (by 14 May 1948, the invading Zionist army had already
expelled approximately 400,000 Palestinians) and the establishment of
the Jewish settler-colony came as a result of massive popular pressure
across the Arab world is true enough even if the principal concerns of
the intervening countries was their regimes’ own ambitions for regional
hegemony.
PLO concessions
Since the PLO began to waver in its vision and mission and embarked
on a path that recognized Israel’s right to be a racist Jewish state and
began to negotiate under US sponsorship in Madrid in 1991, the
international friends of the Palestinian people were thrown into a state
of utter uncertainty. The first major concession that the PLO had to
make in the context of Oslo was to allow the repeal of the international
consensus on Zionism-as-racism and substitute for it the US and Israeli
consensus, namely that Israel, the only democracy in the Middle East,
was locked in a land dispute with its neighbors.
As noted, one of the earlier accomplishments of the new consensus was
the US- and Israeli-sponsored repeal of the 1975 resolution, which was
carried out in 1991. The same states that had supported the resolution
in 1975 supported its repeal in 1991. Whereas in 1975 UN Resolution 3379
was supported by 72 countries (35 voted against and 32 abstained), the
1991 repeal was supported by 111 countries (25 voted against, 13
abstained). Evidently, the collapse of the Soviet Union and the Eastern
bloc was a major loss for the Palestinian cause at the UN. However, the
transformation of the views of Third World friends and allies, and of
movements and individuals around the world, was brought about more by
PLO concessions and transformations than by any other factor.
As I
argued
more than 12 years ago in an article discussing post-Oslo solidarity,
Zionism had remained as racist in its ideology and practices as it has
always been; it was the PLO that no longer wished to condemn it for such
racism. Allies of the Palestinians, some argued, could not be expected
to be more pro-Palestinian than the PLO. Since the Madrid conference,
and especially after Oslo, Arafat and his cronies began to circulate
proposals and ideas that conceded the Palestinian people’s right of
return. It is in this context that the majority of the world that
supported the Palestinian
right of return
(including the US until the mid-1990s) began to waver. As for the
legitimacy of Palestinian resistance to occupation and racism, in the
late 1980s and as a condition for a dialogue with the US that never
materialized, Arafat had identified it, on US orders, as “terrorism” and
“renounced” it.
In light of Oslo, Arafat and the Palestinian Authority (which was created under the Oslo accords) put a stop to the
first intifada
and would diligently undertake the suppression of the second. Allies
and friends, as a result, began to waver in their support for
Palestinian resistance. Moreover, when Arafat negotiated the Oslo deal
and transformed the PLO from a liberation movement into an instrument of
the Israeli occupation dubbed the Palestinian Authority, all those
countries that had diplomatic boycotts of Israel wondered why they
should continue with them when the PLO and Arafat had established
diplomatic contacts with a colonial state that practices
institutionalized and legal racism.
Israel’s international diplomatic
isolation was thus ended thanks to Arafat’s deal.
The reversal of these important achievements, which had kept Israel,
in the eyes of much of the world, a racist colonial outpost, was not
only felt at the official level but also at the level of political
movements and individuals for whom the PLO and Arafat were symbols of
struggle against colonialism and racism. These same people were to join
the international chorus of support for Oslo as the way to resolve what
increasingly came to be called the “Palestinian-Israeli conflict,”
rather than ending Zionist colonialism and racism.
Palestinian surrender
When we look at the history of international solidarity with
oppressed peoples we find many examples of compromised national
leaderships. As I argued in my
2003 article,
the collaborationist South Vietnamese government of Nguyen Van Thieu,
for example, did not sway those in the international arena who supported
the Vietnamese struggle for liberation. A collaborationist Mangosuthu
Buthelezi, chief minister of the
KwaZulu bantustan
under apartheid, did not sway those who supported the South African
struggle either. Those who supported the end of the settler-colony of
Rhodesia did not reverse their positions as a result of the triumph of
Robert Mugabe’s ZANU over Joshua Nkomo’s ZAPU. Similarly, those who
supported the Iranian revolution did not change their minds about the
nature of the Shah’s regime and the need to overthrow him when Khomeini
took over, anymore than those who supported the revolution against Haile
Selassie in Ethiopia changed theirs when the Derg — the ruling military
council — took over under Mengistu Haile Mariam.
Yet, the fact that Arafat and the PLO dropped their opposition to a
racist Israel and transformed themselves, under the guise of the
Palestinian Authority, into enforcers of the occupation while basking in
the shadow of their earlier anti-colonial history tricked many among
those who comprised international solidarity into supporting this
transformation. Israel’s continued indecision about Arafat as the most
suitable leader of Palestinian surrender was based on his refusal to
cooperate
fully with all of Israel’s demands,
not on
account of his struggling against Israeli racism and colonialism. Those
countries, groups and individuals that constituted international
solidarity, however, did not, or refused to, make such distinctions.
This confusion and failure on the part of international supporters,
it has been argued, was the outcome of the absence of a cohesive
Palestinian movement or leadership that could provide an alternative to
Arafat and the Palestinian Authority, as
Nelson Mandela and the
African National Congress had provided to Buthelezi or the Viet Minh provided to Thieu.
But while this is an important part of the analysis, it is a not a
sufficient or fully persuasive argument, as it does not account for the
fact that it is as a result of Arafat’s and Israel’s policies that
Arafat and his successors remained the only available leaders of the
Palestinians. Israel had been assassinating Palestinian leaders around
the world for the previous five decades, while it was Arafat’s
leadership and his monopoly on power that had prevented alternative
leaderships from emerging.
Re-emergence of solidarity
Despite the confusion and disarray in which Arafat’s concessions had
thrown the friends and allies of the Palestinians, the latter continue
to command much support across the world and inspire solidarity
everywhere. If states that supported the Palestinians before Oslo came
to be intimidated by US and Israeli power after Oslo, not all political
movements, intellectuals and activists were so easily silenced.
Many people from around the world began to come to the West Bank and
Gaza after 2001 to help fight the occupation and protect Palestinian
lives. The founding of the Palestinian-led
International Solidarity Movement
(ISM) in 2001, at the height of the second intifada, would bring a
large number of white West Europeans, white Americans and white
Australians to the occupied territories who would engage in nonviolent
activism to help defend Palestinians against Israeli soldiers —
especially in cases of colonial evictions, home demolitions, land
confiscation and other forms of daily Israeli military and Jewish
colonists’ violence. In addition, ISM activists sought to document the
daily oppression of the Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza.
ISM would be targeted by the Israelis, and its activists killed,
injured and harassed. Indeed, the Israelis would accuse it of
collaborating with “terrorism” and would expel many of its volunteers
and
bar them from re-entry.
The ISM rationale was that international white volunteers could
protect the darker Palestinians whom the racist Israeli military had and
has less qualms shooting than it did white Europeans and
Euro-Americans. ISM did not realize then that white privilege is not
sustainable when a white person goes against the white European and
Euro-American consensus. ISM would learn that lesson the hard way when
the Israeli military showed little hesitation in shooting and killing
these white American, European and Australian volunteers in cold blood,
with hardly a whisper of protest from their own governments.
The American
Rachel Corrie’s case is perhaps the most famous, but there are others like UK citizen
Tom Hurndall, not to mention those who were severely injured, such as American
Tristan Anderson. The Israeli military’s
attack in 2012 on dozens of ISM cyclists
who were riding in solidarity with Palestinians led to more injuries
and showed Israel’s willingness to defeat international solidarity at
all costs.
In addition to the ISM, many others wrote and spoke on behalf of the
Palestinians in publications and forums around the world. Still, many
more marched in demonstrations protesting Israeli violence in the
capitals of Europe and the cities of North America, not to mention the
Arab world, while others began campaigns to divest from Israel and to
boycott the country or US or European companies that sell it equipment
used in its colonial policies. This was an important body of support
that was looking for direction. It would find it in the
Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel, or PACBI, which was founded in the West Bank in 2004, and with the establishment of the
Boycott National Committee (BNC) and the
July 2005 call from Palestinian civil society for boycott, divestment and sanctions.
In addition to PACBI, Ali Abunimah and a number of colleagues
established their important online publication The Electronic Intifada
in 2001 to inform allies of the Palestinians about the Palestinians’
daily struggle against a savage occupation. They have become a principal
source of information for international solidarity and Abunimah became a
powerhouse, a veritable single-person lobby, tirelessly fighting
misinformation about the Palestinians in the Western media.
In the meantime, the
siege
that Israel laid to the Gaza Strip since 2005 generated a new kind of
solidarity with the besieged Palestinians there, in the forms of
flotillas
and convoys aiming to break the Israeli siege and the subsidiary
Egyptian siege complicit with it. Recognizing the danger of such a
violation of Israeli fiat, the Israeli military fought the flotillas,
preventing them from reaching Gaza, to the point of commandeering in May
2010 all the boats in the Gaza Freedom Flotilla and killing nine
Turkish supporters on the largest of the ships, the
Mavi Marmara, in a massacre in international waters.
With the Israeli oppression of the Palestinians intensifying on all
fronts, support for BDS began to expand across Western universities,
labor unions and among artists, writers and intellectuals. Some began to
go on visits to Palestine to witness in person the effects of the
Israeli occupation, thus unwittingly highlighting the struggle of West
Bank Palestinians, and less so Gaza Palestinians, over that of the other
two thirds of the Palestinian people in exile or living under Israeli
colonial and racist laws in present-day Israel.
Whereas many of those who go on these visits are sincere and genuine
in their support of the Palestinians, there is a worry that this amounts
to no more or less than
solidarity tourism for which western
do-gooders have been known throughout the 20th century — from their
tours of the Soviet Union in the 1920s to tours and sugar-harvesting in
Cuba in the 1960s, and more so with coffee harvesting and house-building
in Nicaragua in the 1980s — none of which had any real or lasting
impact beyond the symbolic. While it is true that by witnessing the
horrors of the occupation, visitors can and do write and agitate against
Israeli policies with more authority, it remains of concern when this
constitutes the maximal limit of their solidarity.
This form of solidarity tourism is quite different from the kind of
solidarity many registered when they joined international brigades to
support the Spanish during their civil war against the forces of fascism
or those who flocked to join the Palestinian guerrillas in the 1930s
and again in the late 1960s or the flotillas that sought to break the
siege of Gaza. Indeed, there were no such tours of solidarity in the
cases of Apartheid South Africa and racist Rhodesia, any more than there
were tours of colonial Algeria before liberation, though
Frantz Fanon and other international supporters joined the anti-colonial struggle in that French colony.
Unlike the post 9/11 pro-Palestinian solidarity visitors, supporters of Israeli racism and settler colonialism have been
actively joining fighting units
of the Israeli army since the 1947–1948 Zionist conquest to establish
the colonial settlement and expel the native population. Whereas with
the passage of time, the spate of solidarity with the Palestinians moved
from joining their fighting units to supporting them diplomatically
from afar, or writing on their behalf and organizing demonstrations in
solidarity with them, to arriving in the occupied territories to defend
Palestinians nonviolently against a violent occupation and in flotillas
off the Gaza coast and finally in the form of solidarity tourism,
supporters of Israeli colonial racism have never changed their forms of
solidarity or their tactics.
Finally, and more recently, we have seen the highlighting of the
question of law among some solidarity groups, specifically the question
of international law and the Palestinians. This is not only being used
with mixed (mostly unsuccessful) results by valiant Palestinian civil
liberties lawyers who are citizens of Israel to defend the third-class
Palestinian citizens
of the Jewish settler-colony, but also is being adopted as one of the
safest topics of discussions by liberal faculty in US universities.
Law has always been the most conservative of institutions, not to say
of references. Discussing the merits and demerits of Israeli violations
of international law and signed agreements has been and
should continue to be an important tool for Palestinians and those who support them (I myself have written about the
legal claims
that Israel puts forth to justify itself). But this inordinate amount
of emphasis on the question of international law smacks of a liberal
safe approach that would not antagonize pro-Israel audiences, faculty
and university administrators, and in so doing risks reducing the
century-long Palestinian anti-colonial struggle against Zionism to a
legal question, indeed to one where Israel need only practice its
colonial policies in accordance with international law and not in
violation of it. This overemphasis on the question of law, which has
proliferated on university campuses, is a risky route, as it ignores the
colonial history and nature of international law and aims to chip away
at the important understanding and analysis of the Palestinian situation
as a colonial one, an understanding that is now adopted by
pro-Palestinian international solidarity in light of its commitment to
BDS.
It is also true that PACBI and the BNC highlight the question of law
and international law, which, as I already stressed, is an important
tool for the Palestinian struggle, but unlike the safe liberal and
reductionist approach, they do not and should not consider international
law as the
only tool for Palestinian resistance to the
exclusion of others, but rather as one of many central issues that can
aid Palestinian resistance.
Countering BDS
The enormous success of BDS across Western universities and
increasingly across European labor unions, academic associations and
within the artistic field, is such a great achievement that
international power brokers are attempting two simultaneous strategies
to break it, with a third subsidiary strategy emerging that is
complementary to both:
(1) Fighting BDS head on by denying pro-Palestinian faculty
employment, denying already employed faculty, students and artists
freedom of expression, and preventing or sabotaging the convening of
conferences, exhibits, screenings and other related events. These forms
of repression in the academic and cultural spheres are in parallel with a
host of repressive government measures and legislative initiatives
aimed at punishing or deterring other forms of BDS, especially the
economic boycott of Israel;
(2)
Co-opting BDS,
as many European governments have recently been attempting to do, by
claiming that BDS is something to be adopted exclusively to bring about
some form of a
two-state solution
in accordance with the colonial agreements signed by the Palestinian
Authority and Israel and which the Israelis refuse to abide by;
(3) A subsidiary strategy seeks to dilute the core issues of the
colonial situation in Palestine to a question of law, and to replace
Palestinian activism by an anodyne academic form of “Palestinian
studies,” which would be helpful to either of the above two strategies:
wherein (a) faculty and students can now be accused of practicing
pro-Palestinian “activism” rather than academic forms of “Palestinian
studies” and be barred from doing so in the name of strict academics,
thus helping the first strategy, and (b) by offering “objective” legal
academic assessments of the maximum that Palestinians could achieve in
line with the second strategy. This subsidiary counterstrategy has
co-opted a number of Palestinian-American and other scholars who are now
in the business of marketing Palestinian studies and panels on
Palestine and international law.
Those in solidarity with the Palestinians should be ever so vigilant
and steer clear of these three counterstrategies. Powerful as the
colonial enemy of the Palestinians is, the fate of the Palestinian
struggle, including that of international solidarity, lies in the
balance. This is why those in solidarity with the Palestinians should
not tire of emphasizing the core principles of the Palestinian
anti-colonial struggle — namely ending Israeli state racism inside
present-day Israel in order to bring about both the equalization of the
Palestinian citizens of Israel with their Jewish counterparts and allow
the Palestinian refugees to return, and the ending of Israel’s colonial
occupation of the West Bank including East Jerusalem and the siege of
Gaza.
On this 67th anniversary of the establishment of the Jewish settler
colony on the ruins of Palestine, it should be emphasized yet again that
it is not a pragmatic accommodation of different aspects of Israeli
racism and colonialism that will bring about lasting justice and peace
for the Palestinians, as international power brokers and their
Palestinian and non-Palestinian liberal supporters insist. Rather, it is
the end of the Zionist colonial venture, starting with the removal (and
not the reform) of all the racist and colonial legal and institutional
structures that it has erected that is the precondition for lasting
justice and peace for all the inhabitants of historic Palestine. On
that, those in solidarity with the Palestinians should brook no
compromise.
Joseph Massad is professor of modern Arab politics and
intellectual history at Columbia University. He is the author most
recently of Islam in Liberalism.