Call it what it is: a never-ending war
Those of us who consider ourselves people of conscience need to question all assumptions made, writes Nomboniso Gasa
The immediacy of war overwhelms, often making it difficult to think with clarity and look beyond what is projected on television screens and smartphones. It paralyses, even as it demands our prompt and visceral response to the devastation that unfolds before our eyes. War elicits strong words of condemnation and righteous anger against those we deem to be the “enemy”, or on the “wrong” side.
Yet war is often a result of a complex and bitter history, and policies that dehumanise and oppress the “other”. It requires we step back from the constant loud coverage that often offers singular narratives and entrenches binary choices between “good” and “bad”/“evil”. Those who bear witness and stand in solidarity must sift through loads of information and propaganda to find voices that help them to not only understand the complexity of what is happening, but humanise those affected.
The British academic and writer professor Sunny Singh reminds us that “much of war is a contest of stories: who gets to tell theirs, disseminate theirs, and how those build empathy and sympathy. Stories also dehumanise, which is not only required for killing, but also ensuring only some victims matter and others are ignored.” The October 7 Hamas attacks, the most serious since October 6 1973, when a coalition of Arab states jointly launched a co-ordinated military assault on Israel, left the world reeling.
In those early hours of the immense darkness of war on October 7, the words of Israelis and Palestinians who insist on seeing the humanity of others gave us the light we needed.
Haggai Matar, an Israeli journalist wrote: “As I sit in Tel Aviv, fearing for my family and friends, I know that this has also been the reality for Palestinians, especially in Gaza, for decades. One of fear and being defenceless, and a brutal enemy who has no problem killing civilians, entire families even.” Another Israeli, Ami Dar, wrote on X: “I am an Israeli Jew. This is the worst day of my life. And yet today, it bears repeating: the only way to end this cycle is by working for freedom and dignity for all. For all. On all sides, our blood is the same colour and our tears taste the same.”
All over social media and alternative media there have been voices of many ordinary Israelis, Palestinians and people of Israeli and Palestinian descent all over the world who have rejected easy explanations and have chosen, despite the pain and fear, the difficult path of seeing each other’s humanity. These ordinary people have the extraordinary vision and wisdom to see their lives and futures intertwined with those of their neighbours. They understand the futures of their countries and children are guaranteed and safeguarded not by making Israel the most armed and militarised country in the world, not by Hamas’s artillery and terrorism, but by the hard work of peace-building, seeking a political and humane solution that will help them coexist.
Unfortunately, their voices and wisdom have been drowned out by the powerful, mainstream, mostly Western media, which repeats the words of politicians worldwide. When Israeli leaders use the word “Holocaust” to describe the Hamas attacks, much of the global media repeats it without question. This word is carefully chosen to resonate with the greatest tragedy that befell Jewish people in history and one of the biggest crimes in human civilisation. This is intended to make it difficult to question the choices of the Israeli government and what people knew would be a disproportionate military response. Globally, people quickly bought into the Israeli government’s message, helping to project its genocidal retaliation against Palestinian as “reasonable”.
The same government that speaks of the “Holocaust” described Palestinians as “human animals”. This description is not only racist, but a carefully chosen dehumanisation discourse that has been prevalent since the onset of the Nakba and occupation of what colonialism described as “vacant land”.
The Israeli government has made true its promise to reduce Gaza to rubble. As fighter jets fly over the region, leaving nothing but piles of rubble behind, one remembers the words of essayist, artist, writer and humanist John Berger, who described the unending piles of rubble he saw all over Palestine as symbolising the destruction, impermanence, and ever-present threat of invading Israel. “Everywhere one goes in Palestine — even in rural areas — one finds oneself amongst rubble. The rubble is of houses, roads and the debris of daily lives. There is also the rubble of words — the rubble of words that house nothing any more, whose sense has been destroyed. There is rubble too of sober and principled words which are being ignored.”
Vowing to attack Hamas like never before, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and his minister of defence Yoav Gallant launched unprecedented attacks on Gaza. The Israeli
government announced war crimes and delivered them without any fear that its powerful and wealthy allies would criticise it. Its language has been genocidal and in direct violation of the Geneva Convention and Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC). Of course, Israel and its chief ally, the US, are not party to the ICC. To be clear, Israel and Hamas have committed war crimes which are clearly defined in UN conventions and declarations. In a pattern with which we have become too familiar, the necessary worldwide condemnation of Hamas has not been matched by similar condemnation of Israel by powerful countries.
Influential nations and organisations, including the EU in Brussels, the Houses of Parliament in London, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and many other important sites around the globe displayed Israel’s flag in a symbolic statement. No Palestinian flag. The meaning of this for Israel, especially in the absence of statements about its war crimes and genocidal language and practices, is that its stance is approved. The message to Palestinians is that “though we keep saying we know Hamas does not mean Palestine, we approve of the collective punishment Israel is perpetrating”.
In a statement on X, US President Joe Biden said: “Hamas does not stand for Palestinian people’s equal right to dignity and selfdetermination.” And then proceeded to support Israeli actions.
In his 2005 essay “Undefeated Despair”, Berger writes about the “gap between declared principles and realpolitik”, saying: “What is happening [in Palestine] is careful destruction of a people and promised nation.” His words were true then and they are most certainly true now.
As we watch this destruction, we can no longer keep quiet. We should consider our words and actions carefully. We must weigh the former and check them for meaning, implied and direct. Even the word “war” is problematic when the two sides are so unequal. Glib condemnation and “despair about the state of humanity on all sides” is inadequate. These no longer meet today’s challenge. Many would argue they never did. Yes, Hamas committed war crimes. Yes, those who commit such crimes must be condemned. Similarly, Israel commits war crimes. And yes, these too must be condemned. But this is not enough.
Those of us who consider ourselves people of conscience need to question all assumptions made. We need to reclaim our words and clearly, unequivocally commit ourselves to the ending of military aggression and recognise the humanity of Palestine’s people, who, like all of us, are entitled to freedom.
In her book Twelve Feminist Lessons of War, the leading feminist scholar Cynthia Enloe reminds us that we are not passive. She urges us to be intentional in how we listen to women, how we pay attention to their experiences of war. Right now, young women in Israel and Palestine are calling us to pay attention. A young Israeli woman who survived the massacre in Be’eri has told us: “Listen carefully: how am I supposed to get up in the morning, knowing that 4.5km away from Kibbutz Be’eri, in Gaza, there are people for who this [the war] is not over? Those talking revenge — shame on you.”
It is our duty, those who are serious observers or analysts, to listen to the survivors. To look beyond comfortable and tired clichés and learn from the courage of all of them, to pay attention to what they say. And most importantly, to demand our governments take up these issues in the many multilateral and bilateral forums in which they participate.
As an old woman in Gaza told Berger in 2005: “It is their [Western countries’] silence that hurt us, not their [Israeli] guns.”