Context, moral shock, and the protests: Israel – Palestine
Ultimately, we will all be hurt, one way or another. Some of us, way more than others.
Al-Ahli Arab Hospital in Gaza was bombed on the night of October 17, killing more than 300 civilians—citizens who were wounded, sick, or had taken shelter since there was nowhere else to go.
Israel stated that the incident was caused by an errant rocket fired by Islamic Jihad. Conversely, both Islamic Jihad and Hamas contended that Israel deliberately targeted the hospital, citing ongoing Israeli bombardments in Gaza since October 7.
The truth has no bearing anymore. This is different from fake news or disinformation. Encountering continuous disinformation and being misled is one thing; purposefully shutting one’s senses to all but one kind of knowledge is another thing: Epistemological dysfunction. People have decided what to believe. The truth, even when presented with irrefutable evidence [as of 18 October 2023, no such confirmation], does not hold sway over how people feel or react. The bombing of the hospital bombing was the last nail in the coffin of the human atrocity that has been unfolding since October 7 in Israel and Gaza.
Two main reasons contribute to the irrelevance of truth. The first is rooted in a fundamental aspect of human nature. We use cognitive shortcuts in chaotic and uncertain times, especially ‘when established norms and institutions lose their guiding force, people face unexpected novelty, and outcomes seem up for grabs.’1 This is how we think we can have a minimal grip, a semblance of control amidst rapidly unfolding events and unreliable sources of information. In such circumstances, indecision creates a bigger ‘uncomfort zone’ than a potentially wrong decision.
The second reason lies in an epidemic that has the potential to exact a higher danger on humanity than viral ones. It goes by various names - hyperpolarization, radical partisanship, but I prefer to label it as tribalism. ‘Unlike partisanship, tribalism spills beyond the strictly political arena into parallel assumptions about history, geography, economics, and, of course, religion’ and pushes people into binary and definitive ghettos. This leads to ‘the perpetual motion of a machine driven by revenge. If you hurt the other side, they will hurt you back, and when they do, they prove themselves to be the incorrigible enemies you always knew they were. Atrocities, even when they are committed by a tiny minority of people, cease to be individual crimes that should be punished by law and become sources for collective outrage (if they did it to us) or for collective excuses (if we did it to them)’. This analysis, succinctly captured by Fintan O'Toole in his piece 'Defying Tribalism' in the London Review of Books (November 2, 2023), encapsulates the essence of contemporary politics. It undeniably defines the structural foundations upon which the two opposing camps have constructed their narratives during the recent conflict in Israel and Gaza.
Reflecting on the war in Gaza or the broader Palestinian-Israeli conflict from the comfort of Oxford, while people are enduring the harrowing realities of ethnic cleansing, death, deprivation of basic necessities like food, fuel, and electricity, or being kept as hostages in fear, is undeniably a deeply troubling juxtaposition. I know. I also do not claim to have transcended my own reflexive and cognitive shortcuts, nor do I consider myself impervious to peer or tribal pressure. I am devastated and furious. However, my years of experience as a journalist during which I focused on the resolution of an armed conflict (the Kurdish issue in Turkey) coupled with my academic endeavors compel me to share what I see and leverage what I know.
Context and the blame
I am afraid I have to start with these two hollow sentences that are now required to start any conversation. Not that they have practical value or serve as a substantive foundation for any intellectual activity, it is what it is: I condemn Hamas, and I condemn Israel. The context of Israel’s recent atrocities against the Palestinian people seems conspicuous to many: Hamas’s killing of Israeli soldiers and civilians on October 7. However, the motives behind Hamas's resorting to such actions remain deliberately obscured. Examining the origins and evolution of an armed movement—labeled as a terrorist organization by many states—does not equate to endorsing its array of tactics. Quite the contrary, as numerous conflict resolution scholars contend, it represents the initial step toward potentially finding a solution to end the cycle of violence Ahistorical approaches to this calamity only feed the tribalism machine, which in turn stokes fuel in the war machine.
Judith Butler, in her essay in the London Review of Books on this issue, argues that blaming the apartheid regime in Israel as the only culprit of Hamas’s crimes—as some of Harvard’s Palestine Solidarity Committee had done in a recent statement—was wrong because, first, it gives a moral justification to Hamas violence, and second, it implies that ‘Hamas’s violence is only Israeli violence by another name’ which in turn means ‘even Palestinians do not own their violent acts as their own. That is no way to recognise the autonomy of Palestinian action.’ As seen, Butler’s latter criticism is related to the agency of the Palestinians, which, as far as we know, has been caged and denied long before Harvard’s committee assigned blame to any party. Even though I find Butler’s agency argument thin-stretched, I agree that there must be a distinction between providing context and adjudicating crimes. In a similar vein, contextualization should not be misconstrued as a means to exonerate or relativize.
Maybe this basic of the basics could serve as a starting point, - although I have very little hope due to reasons I outlined earlier -: There used to be a place called Palestine. Now, no more. There are people called Palestinians. Now, almost no more. Recognizing this historical fact does not equate to denying the right of Israel to exist. The Palestinian struggle predates recent events, and it didn't commence with actions by groups like the PLO, Ikhwan, Islamic Jihad, or Hamas. It is not, for a matter of fact, a direct consequence of Jewish aspirations, shaped by the horrors of the Holocaust, to establish their own homeland. What we've been witnessing for the past six decades is a situation that many characterize as an apartheid regime—a severe consequence of European colonialism and a perpetuation of Orientalist tropes. Acknowledging this gives us the right scaffolding to find meaning—or, as Max Weber’s framework calls it, ‘the ethics of conviction’—at this time of moral shock.
‘ash-sahab yurid…’
Following the news of the bombing of Al-Ahli Arab hospital in Gaza on the night of October 17, which pushed the Palestinian death toll to over 3,000, protests began to intensify in numerous cities across the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region, as well as in other parts of the world. Demonstrators gathered in front of Israeli and American embassies and consulates, although at this stage, the number of participants and the nature of the protests can be described as relatively static and their dynamic as 'non-movement.' However, it is my belief that this situation will evolve into larger waves of protests.
Several Western governments have already cautioned their citizens against traveling to Lebanon and Turkey due to the escalating tensions. The prospect of a significant escalation in these protests is not merely a concern for Western governments that have offered unwavering support to Israel. The underlying fear runs even deeper within authoritarian regimes in the MENA region, despite their professed support for the Palestinian cause. This apprehension is rooted in the memories of the Arab uprisings. The "Arab Street" serves as a passive network where both non-movements and organized movements converge, and collective action can be decided upon, as was evident during the uprisings of 2011.
‘The Arab street has been neither ‘irrational’ nor ‘dead’, but it is undergoing a major transformation caused by both old constraints and new opportunities brought about by global restructuring. As a means and mode of expression, the Arab street may be shifting, but the collective grievance that it conveys remains’, as stated by Asef Bayat.2 That is the problem for authoritarian regimes. The enduring collective grievance poses a significant challenge for them authoritarian regimes. They would fear that even though protests may initially focus on condemning the Palestinian massacres, they could ultimately shift toward addressing the lingering grievances that continue to resonate with the people.
The recent literature on social movements and contentious politics underscores the significant roles of emotions in motivating masses to participate in street protests. Social movements are rational; yes, assess opportunity structures— conditions that, from their perspective, offer the best chance of achieving their goals—and consider the resources at their disposal, yes. But they are also made up of individuals who are guided by their emotions and, hence, at times decide to join a protest, even in the face of fear of reprisal or personal harm. Non-movements, which can be defined as collective actions by individuals who may not necessarily be operating under a shared or unified banner but are driven by shared experiences and grievances, can coalesce with more organised movements when circumstances align, adding to the potency of the resistance, even though their cost-benefit analysis or means-to-ends calculus say otherwise.
What I'm attempting to convey is that the protests that initially emerged in response to the Israeli atrocities of the past ten days may evolve into a convergence of this moral shock with the longstanding grievances of the Arab peoples, and the authoritarian regimes in the region are acutely aware of this potential. They learned from the events of 2011 that when moral outrage fuses with deeply rooted grievances, it can ignite significant social and political movements.
An emblematic example of this dynamic is the slogan chanted in Ramallah on the night of the hospital bombing, reminiscent of the rallying cry of the Tunisian revolution: "ash-shab yurid isqat an-nizam—the people want the regime to fall." This time, it was directed toward Mahmoud Abbas and the Palestinian Authority, which many Palestinians view as illegitimate.
So, what comes next? The machinery of war is poised to continue its destructive course. It possesses its own renewable energy and self-sustaining mechanisms. More lives will be lost, more will be killed, more people will take to the streets, more clashes with states and among themselves will ensue, and more displacement will occur. Regional and transatlantic alliances will be shaken, and friendships will be buried as collateral damages to our tribal affiliations. Ultimately, we will all be hurt, one way or another. Some of us, way more than others.
Weyland, Kurt. “The Arab Spring: Why the Surprising Similarities with the Revolutionary Wave of 1848?” Perspectives on Politics 10, no. 4 (2012): 917–934, p. 920.
Bayat, Asef. Life as Politics: How Ordinary People Change the Middle East. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 2013: 220.