Bulletin Du Centre De Recherche Français À Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 [Online], Online Since 31 December 2012, Connection on 11 March 2020

Home , 2000 Camp David Summit, Aharon Megged, Avital Leibovich, Avi Issacharoff, Carlos Latuff, David Rubinger

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem

23 | 2012 Varia

Electronic version URL: http://journals.openedition.org/bcrfj/6679 ISSN: 2075-5287

Publisher Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem

Printed version Date of publication: 31 December 2012

Electronic reference Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 [Online], Online since 31 December 2012, connection on 11 March 2020. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/bcrfj/6679

This text was automatically generated on 11 March 2020.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Éditorial Olivier Tourny

Activités du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem en 2012

The Dynamics of Images in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

Foreword Jérôme Bourdon and Frédérique Schillo

Foreign coverage: evaluation and self-reflection

Representing the Israeli-Palestinian conflict A short history and some research questions Jérôme Bourdon

Still… the power of words Marius Schattner

Beyond neutrality and/or political commitment The ethical commitment of the discourse analyst Roselyne Koren

Peace Journalism, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the German press and the German public Wilhelm Kempf

Blogging around and beyond the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Delphine Matthieussent

Visualizing the conflict

Mapping Israel/Palestine Constructing National Territories across Different Online International Newspapers Christine Leuenberger

Dynamics of death images in Israeli press Tal Morse

Cartooning the conflict Michel Kichka

Israel: commitments

The New Historians of Israel and their Political Involvement Ilan Greilsammer

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 2

Is there a right-wing alternative to the left-wing Bohemianism in Israel? Cyril Aslanov

Investigating the Israeli Soldier’s Guilt and Responsibility The case of the NGO “Breaking the Silence” Yael Munk

Israel's media policy

Rituals of Apology in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Zohar Kampf

Reflections on Israel's Public Diplomacy Meron Medzini

Varias

Les philosophes dans la prophétologie sunnite Nadjet Zouggar

Sur les traces du « vivre-ensemble » Siegfried Landshut : portrait d’un intellectuel juif allemand Elena Fiorletta

Les Tcherkesses d’Israël : des « Arabes pas arabes » Eleonore Merza

Politics and Conflict in a Contested City Urban Planning in Jerusalem under Israeli Rule Jonathan Rokem

Politiques et conflit dans une ville au cœur de la discorde L’urbanisme à Jérusalem sous gouvernement israélien Jonathan Rokem

Pursuing the significance of “living together” Siegfried Landshut: a portrait of a German-Jewish intellectual Elena Fiorletta

The Israeli Circassians: non-Arab Arabs Eleonore Merza

The Philosophers in Sunni Prophetology Nadjet Zouggar

Editorial Olivier Tourny

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 3

Éditorial

Olivier Tourny

1 Au cours de l’année 2012, le CRFJ aura vécu trois moments particuliers, l’un joyeux, avec les célébrations de son jubilé, le second très stimulant, avec le soutien de la Fondation Bettencourt-Schueller pour les trois prochaines années, le troisième fort triste, avec le décès de Jean Perrot, fondateur du Centre.

2 Comme une trame, c’est tout d’abord la joie de célébrer 60 années d’activités à Jérusalem qui nous aura accompagnée toute cette année. 60 ans de présence ici, c’est pratiquement le même âge que l’État d’Israël. Cela compte dans le paysage de la région, comme dans celui de la recherche française au sens large. Le plus ancien centre du CNRS à l’étranger est là et bien là ; toujours plus présent même. Lors des célébrations tenues à Jérusalem les 25-27 juin, une très importante délégation de cadres du CNRS conduite par son directeur général délégué aux ressources, Monsieur Xavier Inglebert, ainsi que des représentants du MAE, du MESR et du Haut Conseil Scientifique Franco- Israélien ont été accueillis par l’équipe du CRFJ au complet, l’ambassade de France, le consulat général à Jérusalem et, évidemment, par nos partenaires locaux, universités et instituts de recherche. La présence et l’enthousiasme de Jean Perrot, fondateur du Centre en 1952, ont donné un éclat encore plus particulier à ces journées. Pour nos hôtes, ce fut une occasion de prendre contact avec la réalité du terrain, d’en mesurer l’importance et de pouvoir évaluer les nombreux travaux conduits au Centre. Une occasion pour nous de présenter nos acquis, nos savoir-faire et nos projets présents et à venir. Pour tous, ces rencontres à Jérusalem permirent de (se) rendre compte de la vie du Centre – celle de son équipe et celle de ses recherches. 3 Dans un timing on ne peut plus parfait, moins d’un mois avant ces festivités, nous arrivait l’annonce officielle du soutien de la Fondation Bettencourt Schueller au CRFJ à destination de nos étudiants. Cette fondation prestigieuse a en effet décidé de soutenir pour les trois prochaines années 15 bourses annuelles doctorales/post-doctorales (2012-2015). Une divine surprise venue d’une fondation ne finançant jamais les recherches en Sciences Humaines et Sociales ni les recherches à l’étranger. Les 60 ans du Centre et sa présence à Jérusalem valaient sans doute cette exception. Ce vrai succès est aussi le fruit d’un travail de toute une équipe. Il s’agit là en définitive d’une très

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 4

belle reconnaissance envers la qualité de nos travaux et une marque de confiance particulière dans notre capacité à les conduire. 4 L’année 2012 s’est achevée dans le deuil le 24 décembre avec le décès à Paris de notre collègue et ami Jean Perrot, à l’âge de 92 ans. Ami d’Israël, père de l’archéologie préhistorique française sur le Levant sud, citoyen d’honneur de la ville de Beersheva, son action aura marqué de son empreinte indélébile le rayonnement de la France dans la région. Le pionnier Jean Perrot nous a quitté. Nous garderons le souvenir de sa dernière venue parmi nous en juin dernier, de sa joie de se retrouver à Jérusalem pour célébrer ensemble le jubilé du CRFJ dont il aura été le fondateur et le directeur pendant 40 ans. Un adieu dont on gardera la mémoire, marqué par la finesse, la culture et le sens de l’humour de cette personnalité d’exception qu’était Jean. 5 Le présent numéro du Bulletin du CRFJ conserve le format du numéro précédent, composé d’un dossier, suivi de varias. Ce modèle fait ses preuves. Il permet de publier dans un délai rapide les Actes d’un colloque tenu l’année précédente, ainsi que de servir de tribune à des travaux de chercheurs apprentis ou confirmés en poste au Centre sur des thématiques diverses. 6 Le dossier ici présenté constitue les Actes du colloque international tenu les 7 et 8 novembre 2011 au CRFJ et à l’université de Tel Aviv sur la question des « Dynamiques des Images dans le Conflit israélo-palestinien ». Placé sous la responsabilité éditoriale du Professeur Jérôme Bourdon du département communication de Tel Aviv et de Frédérique Schillo, ancienne boursière post-doctorale au CRFJ, ce dossier thématique regroupe 15 articles et témoignages de journalistes locaux et internationaux, ainsi que d’universitaires de Tel Aviv, Jérusalem, Bar Ilan, Cornell, Konstanz et Londres. Mais laissons le soin aux éditeurs d’en faire la présentation dans l’introduction qui suit. 7 Quant aux quatre articles présentés dans les varias, ils émanent de quatre jeunes chercheurs déjà confirmés. La qualité de leurs publications en témoignent. Là est aussi la raison d’être du Bulletin : servir de tribune aux travaux innovants des générations montantes et laisser une trace indispensable de leur séjour de recherche parmi nous. 8 Coopérer, former, publier, tel le coeur de notre mission. Le présent Bulletin en est une fois encore le produit de cette dynamique. 9 Vous en souhaitant bonne lecture.

AUTEUR

OLIVIER TOURNY

Directeur du CRFJ

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 5

Activités du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem en 2012

Manifestations

Colloques, Ateliers

From Yemen to Eilat & the Neguev: A Bridge Between Culture and Peoples, 26-27 janvier 2012, CRFJ, Ben Gurion University Eilat Campus, ICOMOS Unesco Forum, Institut Ben Zvi. Psychanalyse et humanité, 20-21 février 2012, CRFJ, Université Paris V, Université Paris VII, All Quds University, Ben Gurion University. L’enseignement des langues étrangères dans une société multiculturelle : quelle place pour le français ?, 5-6 mars 2012, CRFJ, Bar-Ilan University, Institut Français d’Israël. Participation de Stefan Goltzberg, CRFJ, MAEE-CNRS (UMIFRE 7) Norme et créativité dans l’histoire comparée des grammaires française et hébraïque. Le centenaire du pogrom de Fès, 16-18 avril 2012, CRFJ, Institut Ben Zvi, Bar-Ilan University. Un monde en trans, tensions et défis éthiques dans le monde comtemporain, 6-7 mai 2012, Netanya Academic College, Cerses CNRS Paris V. Minhagim, les coutumes dans la société juive, 13-16 mai 2012, CRFJ, Tel Aviv University. La culture visuelle au XIXe siècle, 22-23 mai 2012, CRFJ, Institut Français.

Conférences

Elisha Russ-Fishbane, Entre Moïse et Mahomet : l’idéal prophétique dans la mystique juive et la mystique. 18 janvier 2012. Florence Heymann et Alexandra Laignel-Lavastine , avec la collaboration de Olivier Rubinstein, La destruction des Juifs de Roumanie : deux livres-événement sur une Shoah oubliée. 1er février 2012.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 6

Florence Heymann, Kippa srouga, kippa zrouka (« kippa tricotée », « kippa jetée »), le basculement vers la laïcité. À partir de quelques séries télévisées. 30 mai 2012. Michaël Jasmin, L’archéologie et les origines du monothéisme. 7 novembre 2012. Éléonore Merza, Ni juifs ni arabes, israéliens et musulmans, les Tcherkesses d’Israël. 19 décembre 2012.

Séminaires

Klervi Fustec, La co-construction des discours sur l’eau et le changement climatique : un processus de territorialisation multi-échelle. 30 mars 2012. Tristan Storme, Pluralité du monde contre pluralisme. Penser l’Europe en se mesurant à la théorie politique de Carl Schmitt. 30 mars 2012. Damien Simonneau, Israéliens mobilisés en faveur d’une barrière ; étude d’une configuration d’acteurs et premiers retours de terrain. 2 mai 2012. Florence Heymann et Gérard Rabinovitch, Formation pour les cadres de l'éducation nationale. 28 octobre-4 novembre 2012. Julie Trottier et Caroline du Plessix, Introduction aux séminaires des étudiants de Sciences Po. 12 novembre 2012. Alain Dieckhoff, Les fondements de l’État d’Israël. Verdin P. H., Point Presse. 23 novembre 2012. Jonathan Rokem, Toward Resolving the Planning Disparity in Jerusalem. 21 décembre 2012.

Divers

Célébrations du 60e anniversaire du CRFJ, 25-27 juin 2012 Expositions de photos de Michaël Jasmin, « L’alphabet du désert - Parcours Néguev », à l’IFJ Romain Gary. 25 octobre-4 décembre 2012. Docu-débat, avec la participation de Vincent Lemire, « La soif du monde », à l’IFJ Chateaubriand. 10 novembre 2012.

Participation de chercheurs CRFJ à des conférences extra-muros

Borders, Boundaries and Transgressions: within and between religions, 5-7 septembre 2012. BASR annual conférence, Université de Winchester, participation de Florence Heymann, CRFJ Rencontre des mémoires, Conférence Histoire et mémoire d'eau à Jérusalem, 13-15 novembre, Strasbourg, participation de Vincent Lemire (CRFJ). A Mixed City – A City State: Involving City Residents in Decision Making, Mixed cities conférence, YMCA Jérusalem, 13-15 novembre 2012, Jonathan Rokem, doctorant CRFJ/ Fondation BS The Future of Mobility in Divided Cities – A Comparative Study of Immigrants and Minorities Mobility Patterns in Jerusalem and Stockholm, 29-30 novembre 2012, Annual conférence Mobile Urbanisms, Kings College London, Jonathan Rokem, doctorant CRFJ/Fondation BS

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 7

Colloque annuel La société Préhistorique Israélienne, Institut Weizmann Rehovot Israël, 13 décembre 2012: Fanny Bocquentin and Hamudi Khalaily, Renewed excavations at Beisammoun: An exploration of the PPN-PN transition in the Hula Valley. Laurent Davin, Ornament in a funerary context. Two case studies on the acquisition, manufacture and use from the Early Natufian of Mugharet el-Wad. Francesca Manclossi, New techn-typological study about flint from Askelon Iron Age I horizon.

Revue de presse

29 juin 2012, France Culture, La fabrique de l'histoire, Katell Berthelot. Septembre-novembre 2012, Le monde de la Bible numéro 202, article sur Katell Berthelot. 18 mai 2012, Akadem TV, Le pouvoir de la mémoire – mémoire virtuelle ou « incarnée » de génération en génération, Aaron Appelfeld, cinquante ans d'écriture, Florence Heymann. 26 décembre 2012, France 3, Pour l'amour de Jérusalem, Vincent Lemire.

Publications des chercheurs du CRFJ, 2012

ACL : article publié dans une revue à comité de lecture. DO : direction d’ouvrage. OS : ouvrage scientifique. COS : chapitre dans ouvrage scientifique. AP : autre production.

Archéologies, sciences de l’Antiquité et du Moyen-âge

Bocquentin F. and Khalaily H., 2012, Beisamoun (Mallaha) 2011, Preliminary Report. Hadashot Arkheologiyot – Excavations and Surveys in Israel. Journal 124. http:// www.hadashot-esi.org.il/report_detail_eng.asp?id=2025&mag_id=119. AP. Bocquentin F., 2012, « Des hameaux partagés par les vivants et les morts. Pratiques funéraires des premières sociétés sédentaires au Proche-Orient », In : Schlanger N., Taylor A-C., (éds.), La préhistoire des autres. Perspectives archéologiques et anthropologiques, p. 291-304. Paris : La Découverte. COS. Bocquentin F., Crevecoeur I., Arensburg B., Kaufman D. et Ronen A., 2012, « Les Hommes du Kébarien géométrique de Neve David, Mont Carmel, Israël ». Bulletins et Mémoires de la Société d’Anthropologie de Paris, 23, p. 38-51. ACL. Cohen H., Sarie I., Medlej B., Bocquentin F., Toledano T., Hershkovitz I., Slon V. on line June 2012. Trauma to the Skull: A Historical Perspective from the Southern Levant (4300 BCE-1917 CE). International Journal of Osteoarchaeology. http:// onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/oa.2258/abstract. ACL. Valla F. R. (ed.), 2012, Les fouilles de la Terrasse d’Hayonim (Israël) 1980-1981 et 1985-1989. CNRS, aux éditions de Boccard, dans la Collection Mémoires et Travaux du CRFJ. OS. ONLINE Publication de Deux campagnes de fouilles de M. Raymond Weil à Tell-Gezer (1914 et 1924) : Le

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 8

mémoire perdu et retrouvé de Mme SILBERBERG-ZELWER (1892-1942). Archives électroniques consultables sur le site Web du CRFJ (http://www.crfj.org/? cat=14) : Les documents originaux numérisés et les documents ressaisis par Jean-Baptiste Humbert et Charles Zelwer.

Les traditions : histoire, religions, savoirs

Alvarez-Pereyre F., 2012, Précis d’ethnomusicologie, CNRS Éditions, Paris, 173 pages (en collaboration avec Simha Arom), réimpression d’une version augmentée de l’ouvrage paru en 2007. OS. Alvarez-Pereyre F., 2012, « L’École sociologique de Bucarest : fondements, réception, héritage », Secolul XXI, Bucarest, (numéro de juillet). ACL. Baumgarten J., Costa J., Guillaume J. P., Kogel J., 2012, En mémoire de Sophie Kessler- Mesguich, Presses Sorbonne nouvelle, 325 p. Volume issu du colloque international « Hommage à Sophie Kessler-Mesguich » qui s’est tenu à Paris, au Musée d’art et d’histoire du judaïsme les 28 et 29 novembre 2010. OS. Fenton P., L’exil au Maghreb, la condition juive sous l’islam. 1148-1912, Presses Universitaires de Paris-Sorbonne, deuxième édition 2012 (2010), 792 p. OS. Fenton P., 2012, « An Epistle on Esoteric Matters by David II Maimonides from the Genizah », in : J. Kraemer et M. Wechsler, Pesher Nahum Texts and Studies in Jewish History and Literature from Antiquity through the Middle Ages presented to Norman Golb, Chicago, 57-74. COS. Goltzberg S., 2012, « À la recherche de l’arbitraire. Du droit à la sémiotique et retour », International Journal for the Semiotics of Law – Revue internationale de Sémiotique juridique. ACL. Goltzberg S., 2012, « Legal fiction in Talmudic texts », in Schumann, Andrew, (ed), European journal for Philosophy of Religion. ACL. Goltzberg S., 2012, « Les sources perelmaniennes entre Athènes, Rome et Jérusalem », Perelman (1912-2012). De la Nouvelle Rhétorique à la Logique Juridique, (éds) Benoît Frydman et Michel Meyer, Presses Universitaires de France, Paris. COS. Goltzberg S., 2012, « Réception messianique et apocalyptique du Livre de Daniel au XVIIe siècle : regards croisés entre judaïsme et christianisme », in : Storme T., La théologie politique à l’épreuve du XXe siècle. Avatars d’un retour du religieux, Librairie Droz, coll. « Travaux de Sciences Sociales », Genève. COS. Goltzberg S., 2012, « Sens restrictif et sens extensif », Dictionnaire des concepts de l’herméneutique, sous la direction de Christian Bernet et Denie Thouard, Vrin. AP. Goltzberg S., 2012, « Three Moments in Jewish Philosophy » (tr. J. Grumbach), Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 22/2011. http://bcrfj.revues.org/6615. ACL. Goltzberg S., 2012, « Trois moments de la philosophie juive », Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 22/2011. http://bcrfj.revues.org/6606. ACL. Goltzberg S., 2012, Perelman et l’argumentation juridique, Michalon, « Bien commun », Paris. OS. Goltzberg S., 2012, Théorie bidimensionelle de l’argumentation : présomption et argument a fortiori, Bruylant, « Penser le droit », Brussels. OS.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 9

Kessler-Mesguich S., 2012, Les études hébraïques en France, de François Tissard à Richard Simon (1508-1680). Grammaires et enseignements, édition à titre posthume, Genève, Éditions Droz, (avec le soutien du CRFJ, du CNL et de la FMS). OS. Lemire V., 2012, Jérusalem 1900. La ville sainte à l’âge des possibles, Paris, Armand Colin- CRFJ. OS. Lemire V., 2012, « The Awakening of Palestinian Hydropolitical Consciousness: Artas- Jerusalem Water Conflict of 1925 », Jerusalem Quarterly /Institute for Jerusalem Studies, 48, january 2012. ACL. Lemire V. (dir.), 2012, « L’invention politique de l’environnement », special issue of Vingtième Siècle. Revue d’histoire, n° 113, janvier 2012. DO. Lemire V., 2012, « Jérusalem », in : Daniel Roche (dir.), Dictionnaire historique de la civilisation européenne, sous la direction de Daniel Roche, Paris, Fayard. AP. Lemire V., 2012, « Aux origines de l’alter-journalisme ? Les correspondants- photographes de L’Humanité, 1950-1980 », in Images, médias et politique, colloque INA /MSCI (Paris), 18-20 novembre 2010. COS.

Israéliens et Palestiniens : sociétés et cultures contemporaines

Garcette A., 2012, « Réajustements des acteurs de la filière oléicole palestinienne face aux dispositifs de séparation israéliens (2002-2010) », dans Parizot C. et Latte- Abdallah S. (éd.), À l’ombre du mur. Israéliens et Palestiniens entre séparation et occupation, Actes Sud. COS. Heymann F. et Kichelewski A. (dir.), 2012, « Les Juifs polonais en France et en Israël. Représentations, trajectoires et instruments de la mémoire », Bulletin du Centre de recherche fançais à Jérusalem, 22/2011. http://bcrfj.revues.org/6451. ACL. Renno P., 2012, « Frictions locales et conflit national : de la gestion de la proximité arabe israélienne dans les implantations juives de Galilée », Bonny Y., Ollitrault S., Keerle R. et Le Caro Y. (dir.), Espaces de vie, espaces enjeux. Entre investissements ordinaires et mobilisations politiques, Presses Universitaires de Rennes. COS. Renno P. et Marteu E., 2012, « L’identité israélienne à l’heure des mobilisations communautaires », Critique internationale, 56 (3). ACL. Schillo F., 2012, La Politique française à l’égard d’Israël, 1946-1959, Bruxelles, André Versaille Éditeur. OS. Zajde N., 2012, Les enfants cachés en France, Paris, Éditions Odile Jacob. OS.

Pluridisciplinarité

Noveck I. A., Bonnefond M., Van der Henst J.-B., 2012, A deflationary account of invited inferences. Belgian Journal of Linguistics, 25, pp. 194-208. ACL.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 10

The Dynamics of Images in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 11

Foreword

Jérôme Bourdon and Frédérique Schillo

1 This issue of the Bulletin of the French Research Center in Jerusalem makes available most presentations made during the international conference “The Dynamics of Images in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict” which took place on November 7, 2011, at the French Research Center in Jerusalem, and on November 8, 2011 at the Department of Communication, Tel Aviv University.

2 We are quite aware that the topic of the media coverage of the conflict is a highly controversial one and has been so for a long time. In addition, in the years 2000s, the Internet has revived the controversies by allowing increased media monitoring and criticism. While we make no claim to be neutral observers or outsiders (this would be absurd, one organizer being a French Israeli Academic living in Tel Aviv, the other a French researcher living in Jerusalem) we did try to avoid polemics and controversies. 3 However, we decided not to focus on the moot1 questions of “fairness” and “objectivity”. Much work on the role of the media in the conflict is, ultimately, of this kind, static for the most part and focusing only on coverage at a given moment. It ultimately aims at demonstrating that this article/newspaper/journalist/country is pro or anti (Palestinian/Israeli). We try to avoid a static/political approach and to analyze the way media representations are moving, across borders, media, periods, and are produced, discussed, appropriated within a complex network of actors, and often in unpredictable manners. We have invited historians, discourse analysis, sociologists but also journalists, bloggers, people who both analyze media and who work inside the media, in order to understand the part representations play, before judging them. 4 In recent years, the so-called digital revolution has made media coverage, lato sensu, even more fluid and hard to follow. It has changed journalism and the way it is consumed around the world and in Israel/Palestine2. The new media added much to a still remarkably high production of news, for a relatively small territory: it is estimated that there are 1 400 foreign journalists based in Israel in 2012; and the number is higher in times of crises3. At the time of this conference, the use of new media was by political actors was in its infancy, but rising quickly. The Israeli government, after the failure of the second Lebanon War (2006), started investing in new media seriously, although this did not always mean successfully, be in the first Gaza War (2008-9), or the Gaza flotilla

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 12

raid (2010), which were much discussed during the conference. The use of social media was even more noticeable during the Gaza battle of last November4, resorting to the whole gamut: YouTube, Facebook, Tweeter. With much less resources, the Hamas did not neglect the social media. ” 5 Only part of the interventions of the conference is published here5. It will be noted by readers that in this conference there is more discussion either of Israel’s image, or of Israel and Palestine together, than of Palestine itself. We did try to have some Palestinian speakers, or experts on Palestinian media and representations, but two factors prevented this. On the one hand, many Palestinians do not wish, at this historical juncture, to participate in a conference side-to-side with Israelis. On the other, few media researchers focus solely on the image of Palestine and Palestinians, and most analyze the conflict as a whole, or focus solely on Israel 6 This did not prevent some controversy to occur, obviously, and some differences of perspectives will be noted by the reader, including and not surprisingly, among Israeli researchers and media practitioners. In addition and unsurprisingly, criticism came from the outside6. 7 The first part of the proceedings is dedicated to foreign media coverage of the conflict. Jérôme Bourdon presents a historical overview of Western representations. He comes back on the reversal of sympathies which started with the Six-Day War in 1967. Most Western media so far had glorified Israel and Zionism. This sympathy was partially transferred to the Palestinians, especially in Europe, much less so in the U.S. Since the 2000s, we might have entered a third period, where the degradation of the image of Islam at large affects the Palestinians’. European public opinions seem more confused than before, once the US media and public opinion remain, overall, staunchly pro- Israeli. The power of representations is discussed by Marius Schattner, former AFP journalist, and researcher, who shows the semantic dilemmas which confront the French and Anglo-American journalists when they describe places, people and actions. The interest of its article also is to shed some light on the role of words in an “unbalanced conflict” which cannot be solved by the power of weapons alone. If words do not kill, however, they can contribute to delegitimization or incitement to hatred, argues Roselyne Koren, who points out the danger of analogies with the “parangon of historical evil”, nazism. She makes a plea for an “ethical commitment” of a non-neutral analyst of media discourse, which gives food for thought about the position of the journalist. Wilhelm Kempf discusses the potential but also the limitations of peace journalism, of which he is one of the pioneers, and which he defines as followed: “when editors and reporters are aware of their contribution to the construction of reality and of their responsibility to ‘give peace a chance’ ”. He illustrates this with a study of German media coverage of the second Intifada and the Gaza War. The question of the freedom of speech is at the heart of Delphine Matthieussent’s presentation. Commenting on her experience as author of a blog in a French daily newspaper, she explains how much she enjoyed the freedom provided by the Internet. However, although her blog was dedicated to everyday life in Israel/Palestine, she found herself exposed to violent criticism about alleged bias. 8 The question of visual images is discussed in the second part of the proceedings. Analyzing the role of maps in the representation of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, Christine Leuenberger shows to what extent supposedly “illustrative”, “background” maps unfold within a complex social, cultural, and political context. Her article shows

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 13

striking divergence between maps on British, American and Arab news sites. Tal Morse’s article exposes the results of a study of 21 years of photojournalism in Israel on the image of death. Focusing on the production of images, but also on the way journalists reflect on them, he describes the conflict between professional norms, the public interest and privacy, and shows how the Israeli media distinguish between categories of victims. Photographs have much in common with cartoonists, tells us cartoonist Michel Kichka: they are war reporters, although on a different frontline; they both create icons, and they have to choose an angle, if not to take sides. He illustrates this with numerous drawings of his colleagues, authors which sometimes chose to criticize both sides or to take a stand. Kichka also offers us a precious testimony on the history of cartooning and on his own career. 9 The third part of the volume, entitled “Israel: commitments”, focus on the debates which started inside Israeli society (in the Academy, the literary world, the army), although they came to be “exported” outside Israel. Ilan Greislammer presents the disputes opened by the Israeli “New historians”, who dared to question the Zionist myths and the official narratives of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Especially from abroad, the literary authors affiliated to the Peace Camp are still too often seen as hegemonic but, as Cyril Aslanov explains, this perception is biased. He analyzes, in an original research on the ideological and aesthetic history of the Israeli literature, the difficulties of what he terms a right-wing dandyism facing a left-wing Bohemianism. Yael Munk, a cinema researcher, shows the links between Israeli cinema and the clips recorded and broadcast, on the net, by the organization “Breaking the Silence”, which encourages Israeli soldiers to report on war crimes. Evaluating their contribution to the representation of the conflict and to public debate, she describes how these clips help to illuminate the ethical dilemmas of soldiers who feel victims of their own nation. 10 Israel’s communication policy and strategy are the focus of the fourth part. Zohar Kampf discusses the discourse of apology, regret and expression of sorrow produced by Israeli authorities, and how journalists participate in constructive this discourse in a positive way (as promoters of reconciliation) or a cynical one (as tellers of melodramatic stories). He reveals how Israel, who played a leading role in the promotion of the ‘age of apology’ as the representative of Jewish victims, rejects the position of the offender or accepts it only partly, in order, ultimately, to restore its image. The history of Israel’s Information policy (known as “hasbara” in Hebrew) is presented by Meron Medzini, an Academic who is also a former head of the GPO and spokesman for the Prime Minister’s bureau. He recounts the key changes of policy since the origins – when secrecy was the norm – until the aftermaths of the creation of the Ministry for Public Diplomacy in 2009. Underlining the difficulties with which still confront the heads of Hasbara to portrait Israel, the author incriminates the absence of a global strategy of public relations.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 14

NOTES

1. Moot here as: quite debatable, not as irrelevant; although sometimes, as our readers will notice, the question of bias is either not relevant, or not directly relevant, to the dynamics of images. 2. According to the International Telecommunication Union, the number of users of Internet in Israel grow up from 18,2% in 2000 up to 70% on November 2012, whereas in the Palestinian territories (West Bank only) this number grow up from 3,41% in 2000 up to 58,9 in 2012; there is actually 48,7% of users of Facebook in Israel and 39,1% in the West Bank. Statistics available on: http://www.internetworldstats.com/stats5.htm 3. During the November 2012, the events were covered by 2 100 journalists, working for 450 media foreign outlets. Source: Communiqué of the Israeli Government Press Office (11/18/2012). 4. “The blogosphere and new media are another war zone”, according to Avital Leibovich, spokesperson for the Israeli army, quoted in Max Socol, “IDF launches You Tube Channel”, The Jerusalem Post, December 30, 2008, available on : http://www.jpost.com/Israel/Article.aspx? id=126931. The effect of this new “deployment” remains much debated. See for example: http://972mag.com/marketing-israel-is-it-the-campaign-or-does-the-product-suck/63041/ 5. The other presentations were: Leon Barkho, Jonköping University, Sweden, “A Critical Analysis of the Israeli-Palestinian Media Images as Presented by the BBC and Al-Jazeera English”; Daniel Dor, Tel Aviv University, “Politics, Ideology and discourse analysis: the Israeli coverage of the conflict”; Jonathan Rynhold, Bar Ilan University, “Framing the Conflict: Narratives in the West”; Ariel Schweitzer, Tel Aviv University, University of Paris-8, “Between Aesthetics and Politics: The Reception of Israeli Cinema in France. A testimony”; Tamir Shaefer, Hebrew University, Israel, “Mediated Public Diplomacy”, and Rebecca L. Stein, Duke University, U.S., “The Arab-Israeli Conflict on YouTube”. In addition, we had presentations by four journalists, Qassem Khatib, Correspondent in Israel for the MBC channel, and three journalists from Haaretz; Avirama Golan (on her book Hope for an Israeli Spring: Letter to a Palestinian Friend); Avi Issacharoff, “The conflict on the net”, Gideon Levy, on his book The Punishment of Gaza. 6. Rather audaciously wrapping up 4 of our speakers as post-zionists, a so-called “Israel Academic monitor” denounced “a biased conference. ” We'll take this as an illustration of the difficult of working on this topic, and on the conflict at all.

AUTHORS

JÉRÔME BOURDON

Jérôme Bourdon is professor at the Department of Communication, Tel Aviv University, and associate researcher at the Center for the Sociology of Innovation (CSI), École des Mines-CNRS, Paris. Recent publications: “Together, Nevertheless. Television memories in mainstream Jewish Israel” (with N. Kligler), European Journal of Communication, 26-1, 2011; Old Heroes in a New Medium. Israeli Collective Memory and the show “This is Your Life” (with A. Ben Amos). Jewish Social Studies 2012.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 15

FRÉDÉRIQUE SCHILLO

Frédérique Schillo is a historian who specializes on Israel and international relations. Doctor in History, she is associate researcher at the CRFJ and at the Center for History at Sciences-Po Paris. She has published La Politique française à l’égard d’Israël, 1946-1959 (André Versaille Editeur, 2012).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 16

The Dynamics of Images in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

Foreign coverage: evaluation and self-reflection

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 17

Representing the Israeli-Palestinian conflict A short history and some research questions

Jérôme Bourdon

1 Offering a general, historical overview of the coverage of a protracted conflict is a challenge, and even more so when the conflict is question (and its coverage) have been, at different times, but repeatedly since 1967 if not before, highly controversial. Often, Academics studying the coverage sound like professional media blamers, claiming that this country/media/media outlet is blatantly in favor of one side or the other. Much research has been busy with alleged media bias, yet, bias is hard to appreciate, especially when one aims at generalizations beyond a given media outlet at a given time. Assuming Academic researchers are less biased that the journalist, they also face tricky methodological problems. Their studies can be based on a variety of methodologies which do not necessarily converge. Quantitative content analysis (in the long term) would be the safer methodology to appreciate bias, offering a way to objectify judgments. We have such content analyses, but usually in the short term. Discourse analysis is supposed to go more “in-depth”, but at the expense of localizing the examination often to a specific, short period, if not to a specific problem, e.g. a given speech act (see Kampf in this issue of the Bulletin).

2 I propose two ways out of this conundrum. First, I will suggest that researchers may be happy with offering relative, not absolute, appreciations of the position and the involvement of the media in a conflict. This can be done by comparative analysis of media content, of course. But we can also resort to the testimonies of the actors involved. If a “pro-Palestinian” media actor claims that his position was very difficult before the six-day war (e.g. Rouleau, 1984: 5), while a “pro-Israeli” will claim that he feels a lot more uncomfortable since, then we can assume the position of the media has changed about Israel and the Palestinians, although it doesn’t allow us to claim which position is the better, the more adequate, etc. We can tell the story of the media as an additional battlefield, as seen by the eyes of the actors, in a coherent manner. Let us move from historical to geographical differences. When a (pro)Palestinian intellectual travelling from the US to France claims he feels a lot better with the French media

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 18

(Khalidi, 2004: VIII), while a French intellectual feeling Israel is unfairly attacked in his country praises the US media (Finkielkraut, 1983), they converge, at least, on the relative appreciation of the media in each country. 3 Second, I will offer examples of topics which can be explored without reference to the question of political partisanship. The media have their own logic, which they may apply regardless of preferences in a conflict (or together with them: then it is the business of the researcher to disentangle professional and political logics). For researchers obsessed with bias, it may be difficult to appreciate media logics per se, although it is not difficult to give examples. Thus when covering the suffering of civilians, a correspondent may well express empathy, regardless of the side covered, especially if she/he is close to the people covered. The actors in the conflict are aware of this: they often use the suffering of “their” victims to the media, be they Israeli bystanders killed in a Palestinian suicide bombing in Tel Aviv or a Gaza family killed by an Israeli bombing. A second example is the media love affairs with dialogues and peace accords. It is not a specificity of the Israeli-Palestinian/Arab conflict (see a Latin American example in Pedelty, 1985), but it grew steadily after Six-Day War (see specific section below). A third example if the “double blame”: when dealing with a (very) controversial conflict, or chapter in the conflict, many media will send both sides back to back, as violence-prone. This is a media strategy which can often be found in the US, where journalistic are more wary of balance. It is also part of the “the cartoonist’s armory” (to quote a famous article by Gombrich, 1963). Since the cartoon genres often includes comparisons and metaphors of all kind, comparing both sides as similarly guilty of violence might often be a strategy used by “moderate” cartoonists (see examples in Michel Kichka’s presentation). 4 With those caveats in mind, let us embark on a short historical review, which will be, at the same time, a catalogue of questions about the coverage and the ways it can be researched. I will sometimes leave the conflict, and widen the focus. The Israeli- Palestinian conflict cannot be separated from the images of the Jews/The Arabs/the Muslim World. At different times, there are interferences, comparisons, assimilations (whether they are legitimate of not from a historical point of view – which is another question). This affects, especially, the image of victims and/or perpetrators, as will see about the Holocaust (Jews as victims, which can used both to justify and to criticize Israel) or about the rise of violent Islamism after 9/11 (Muslims as perpetrators), which affected the image of the Palestinians after 2001. Such interferences raise the stakes for researchers, but also make their work more challenging. 5 Regarding sources, I will freely move from minute examples (sometimes my own, such as quotes by journalists), to broader macro-data, to give a sense of the variety of materials which can be used: interview with actors, militants, professionals, opinion polls, content or discourse analysis of the media… Many of my examples will be about France, which I have researched most, but I will try to provide comparative or additional points of view. From this material, I will propose tentative generalizations which should by no means be considered as conclusions. Those generalizations will be about the Western (US and European) coverage, and not about the coverage in Israel and the Arab world, although we cannot dissociate areas that easily: as we will see, especially, some Israeli representations have travelled very well, and still do, beyond the borders of the country.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 19

Before 1967: Israel, front stage

6 There is little doubt that Israel enjoyed, compared to the post 1967 period, and even more the post 1980s period, a wide support in the Western World and in much of its media. If only by collecting quotes, one is struck by the enthusiasm around Israel, with sentences which seem inconceivable today (at least in the mainstream media). In 1955, a French newsreel (Bourdon, 2008), claimed: « For the first time after 2000 years, the Jewish people went voting again », a sense of historic revival which is exactly what the State of Israel was (and still is) trying to convey. Here is the International Herald Tribune on January 1st, 1951: “I have now seen the new State of Israel and I can say that a miracle has been achieved (…)”. The word miracle was currently used at the time. More remarkable, in the same article, is the fact that the author justifies the “ruthless policy”, included “acts of terrorism”, by a comparison with the US: “Every country, including the United States, has had its structure cemented by blood and tears”. Moving to the UK, one can fruitfully read the book devoted by Daphna Baram (2008) to the daily newspaper The Guardian, once a strong supporter of Zionism, which became, after 1967, one of the well-known critiques of the state of Israel, which was all the more noticed as it had a strong Jewish liberal readership.

7 Of course, a few quotes do not do justice to the whole picture. One should mention that the support for Israel was not that general. Scathing critiques, often anticipating the post-1967 ones, could be read in the media of the Communist World, which were influential in some European countries (France and Italy, in particular). As far as I know, the representation of Israel and the Arabs/Palestinians in the Communist media has not been systematically researched. In the daily newspaper of the French Communist party, denunciations of Israel as a “racist State” and a “theocracy” started as early as 1960 (Lapierre, 1968, see also Coulon, 2009).

“Exporting Zionism”: some genres and themes

8 In order to understand the wealth of images around Israel, and, by contrast, the paucity of images or the “Arab refugees of 1948”, as the Palestinians were often referred to, one must consider a whole gamut of genres, beyond news.

9 Some themes can be given as examples of successful export. Making the desert blossom: David Ben Gurion’s dream was shared by many people beyond Israel. In the early sixties, when discussions of overpopulation and lack of natural resources were rife, Israel could be seen as a place which was busy solving a problem the whole world was facing. Techniques of irrigation developed there were discussed way beyond the country itself. 10 Another Israeli “invention”, or, rather, institution, the Kibbutz, was also successfully exported, and way beyond the genre of news and current affairs. There is an interesting paradox at work here: that left-wing media and personalities, including communist sympathizers, could be both sympathetic to the “socialist” side of the new State, and deeply critical of its policy vis-à-vis the Arabs. More generally, I would suggest that researchers must be sensitive to ambivalent feelings towards the actors in the conflict (a point which does not sit well with the research of bias), in this case vis-à-vis the State

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 20

of Israel (but, then again, it inherited some of the feelings towards Jews – both antisemitism and also philosemitism). 11 Finally, and this prepared the reversal of the Six Days War, one must remember that the fact that Zionist had a colonial aspect could be seen quite favorably, at least in countries which still controlled colonial empires. Europeans could see Israelis as other Europeans coming to “uncivilized” areas in order to bring progress (this latches on the theme of “making the desert blossom”). New implantations could be called colonies, without this being considered as derogatory. A 1947 French newsreel celebrated “the French colony of Neve Ilan” because this new Jewish implantation in Palestine was created by… French Jews (a symbolic annexation of a small part of Israel to the French colonial empire?) (Bourdon, 2008). The Western world was long blind to the Sephardic part of Israel – reflecting to a certain extent what was happening in Israel itself. 12 Before 1967, another trend must be noted, which is probably the main novel avenue for research. Beyond news and current affairs, a whole culture of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, in films (Exodus, 1960, being the first major example, see McAllister, 2005), in novels, in travel accounts (the trip to Israel becoming a tradition in itself, inheriting some of topoi of the voyage to the Orient), not to mention best-sellers with Mossad agents as heroes, or, more recently, comics. The successful export of Israeli culture itself, starting with literature, and moving, especially in the last ten years, to film (Schweitzer, forthcoming), has also contributed much to the representations of the conflict. 13 It would be worthwhile to explore this culture, especially in a comparative manner, across the 1967 divide, for history (see below), and across the US/Europe divide, for geography. A recent example of different visions of histories has been provided by Ashuri, who compared the three (American/British/Arab) versions of the “same” historical documentaries on the Israeli-Arab conflicts, broadcast on different networks (Ashuri, 2010): using the same archives and interviews materials, different histories were written and proposed to different national viewers.

The Six-Day War as turning point

14 Whatever the differences between countries and ideological positions, the Six-Day War must be considered as a major turning point of our history of images. In France, the lexicon of the occupation was immediately adopted, and given an official approval in a famous press conference by the President de Gaulle on November 27, 1967, who went as far as to qualify the Jewish people of “an elite people, sure of themselves, and domineering”. The word “occupation” had obvious connotations in European history, some twenty years only after the Second World War. De Gaulle also insisted that occupied civilians will resort to acts of “resistance, which others will call terrorism”. This resonated with an old debate on the use of such words, which was reactivated in the Israeli-Palestinian context.

15 Let us leave media and political discourses for another kind of source: the sociology of journalism, especially that of the editors and correspondents who covered the Middle East for many years. I will propose just a quote which shows very well the ambivalence and the changes which could be experienced by a journalist covering Israeli-Arab affairs:

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 21

"If shame for Britain’s part in the Suez affair set off my exasperated affection for the Arab world, a far deeper, European, shame fed my passionate advocacy of Israel’s existence, a passion that survived, just, (emphasis added) my first visit to the Middle East. My way to Israel led through the Palestinian refugee camps in Lebanon, and the gross injustice of evicted Palestinians paying for Europe’s guilt (…). The scene changed after the 1967 War, a war in which Israel captured all the rest of the land that the Palestinians could call home” (Smith, 2003). 16 This change of sympathies can be easily corroborated with other testimonies (Bourdon, 2009), at least in Europe, as opposed to the United States, where the Six-Day War triggered a wave of sympathy for Israel (McAllister, 2005).

17 The group of foreign correspondents has long attracted the interests of media research (for the US a classic author is Hess, 2006) 1967 is linked to a major change regarding the populations of foreign correspondents operating from Israel. Slowly, an old guard of correspondents covering Israel mostly from Tel Aviv, often bi-national Israeli- Europeans or Americans (there are still quite a few), was replaced by another, based in Jerusalem, while the occupation became a major story, and, often, the main story, to be covered from Israel (Bourdon, 2009). The number of correspondents started growing, a growth which went on until the years 2000s.

After 1967, (media) dialogues and (substantial?) agreements

18 If 1967 was the major turning point of our history, each single major event, war, peace agreement, needs to be explored in comparison with others, but also in its own rights: the Camp David accords with Egypt in 1977, the first (1982) (Kassir, 1983) and second (2006) Lebanon wars, the first (1987-91) and second (2000-2005) Intifadas, to name only the major turning points. There are many interesting monographs here, too numerous to be quoted. In the Israeli media (and sometimes in the Jewish-Diasporic media, the claim has been (and still is) often made that from the 1970s onward, the Western media were against Israel, or even, following a saying (and even the name of a popular Israeli song, at some point), that “The whole world is against us”.

19 Of course, the picture is much more complicated. For one thing, even when criticism is leveled at Israel, it does not automatically mean praise for the other (Arab/Palestinian) side. Both sides can and are criticized together (some examples later). In addition, the media like the genre of peace agreements and peace accords, of the “enemy brothers at last (or soon) shaking hands”. They do to such an extent that they quickly initiated dialogues (especially in the genre of the studio programme), and were sometimes actively involved in some negotiations (Gilboa, 2005). This love affair with agreements culminates in the coverage of major peace accords which became major media events (Dayan, Katz, 1992), starting from 1977. In some cases the media hype did not always mean substantial agreement. This disconnection has probably increased over time, as the actors have adapted themselves to the media, agreeing on one thing at least: presenting themselves as willing peace partners in order to draw international sympathies.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 22

After 1967: the rise of the Palestinians

20 From a media point of view (and without entering the debate about the substance of the change, although both phenomena are related), another key evolution started in the media after the Six Day War, the transformation of the Arab refugees of 1948 into a national group, the Palestinians. The question of which images were dominant, and at what times, cannot be summarized quickly. I will discuss three dominant representations: the refugee, the fighter and the terrorist.

21 Unlike 1948, 1967 was covered by television, and television offered images of refugees living what would become the occupied territories, including forcefully expelled. A lot remains to be done here, including international comparisons. There is no doubt that the American media covered the 1967 War with, overall, much sympathy for Israel (McAllister, 2005), which delayed the arrival of the Palestinians in the US media. In Europe, or at least, in France (Bourdon, 2009) and the UK (for the Guardian, Baram, 2004), the empathy towards the Palestinians as a newly occupied people appeared much more quickly. The Palestinian refugees came at the forefront of some coverage, with special reports in refugee camps (including, of course, the camps born from 1948). The Black September 1970 massacre of Palestinians by the Jordanian army was a key moment. In 1982, the expulsion of the Palestinian fighters from Beirut to Tunis triggered some sympathy. But the massacre of Sabra and Chatila by the Christian Phalanges supported by the Israeli army was a much more shocking event, which would remain, to some extent, in the collective memories (plural intended) of various actors involved in the conflict. 22 The second image if that of the fighter, which cannot be dissociated from that of the long unique leader of the Palestinians, Yasser Arafat. He became the president of the Palestinian Liberation Organization in 1969, one year after the battle of Karameh which he led, against the Israeli army. The event received much media attention, and Arafat, for the first time, reached the cover of Time magazine. Arafat was much more than the president of the PLO. He became, for many years, the Palestinian, the rival to the gallery of Israeli leaders who were much covered by the Western media (Moshe Dayan, Yitzhak Rabin, Golda Meir). His 1974 speech at the UN general assembly was a peak of his career. 23 The Palestinian guerilla fighter became a romantic figure, part of global constellation, somewhere between Latin America and Vietnam, emigrating from news to other cultural genres. The first and the second Intifadas added the image of the child as fighter. The first Intifada, especially, brought the children to the forefront. The Palestinian child facing an Israeli tank, with a stone in the hand, became the icon of the first intifada. Some Palestinian leaders, taking their cue from Arafat, were much aware of the power of images. Witness, early in 1988, the representative of the PLO on French TV, referring to the “stones of the thousands of our Palestinian David”, (Bourdon, 2008) – using a classic Biblical metaphor, against Israel. 24 The third image is that of the terrorist. The word itself is heavily loaded, and its use in the media a complicated topic. There is no agreed upon definition, and people who oppose the use of the word are prompt to mention the fact that blind violence against civilians is part of the strategy of many regular, state armies. Beyond the controversies, there is no doubt that the word has a strong negative connotation. Everybody will agree that novelist Doris Lessing chose the title The Good Terrorist for her 1985 novel, as

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 23

a powerful oxymoron. This connotation explains much of the dispute over the word. From a historical/communicational point of view, the Palestinians as “terrorists”, or as “air pirates”, emerged with the wave of plane hijackings in the seventies, which could, especially if there were no civilian victims, gain them some sympathy, and, in all cases, extremely high visibility. The massacre of the Israeli athletes during the 1972 Olympic game, on the other hand, drew widespread condemnation (in France, then again, one clear exception was the daily newspaper of the Communist Party – Coulon, 2009). 25 Twenty years later, the image of the Palestinian as terrorist has changed. The suicide bomber has added a new image. The use of the word “terrorist”, in this case, is not always present. The French and Spanish media have resorted to the word “kamikaze”. At any rate, the suicide bombing in the midst of a crowd of civilians has drawn much media attention, especially since the late 1990s, and the second intifada, when it became part of a systematic strategy. 26 Another series of events, not directly connected to the Palestinians, affected their image: the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center, and, the following years, the rise of radical, violent political Islamism. The perception of Palestinian suicide bombings could not be the same after this (see an example for French television in Blanchard, 2003). In addition, the victory of Hamas (officially listed by the US and the EU as a “terrorist” organization) and the division of the Palestinian territories into two distinct policies, also played a negative part.

The Holocaust and its implications for Israel’s image

27 History, of the ways our reading and memories of history change, also affect media representations of the conflict between Israel and the Arabs/Palestinians. The most powerful example is provided by the changing images of the Holocaust. Although the Holocaust has historical event has been much researched, its media representations have attracted, relatively to the mass of documents, little attention. The 1961Eichmann trial was a turning point. It is well known for its part in the history of Israel and the way it became part of a project to incorporate the Holocaust into Israeli/Jewish collective memory (Segev, 1991; Yablonka, 2004). Less well known is the fact that it was also heavily covered by the international press. The work of a particular New Yorker correspondent, Hannah Arendt has been widely discussed, but not as a part of a global effort of reporting for the media. The Eichmann trial cannot be dissociated from another figure in Israeli culture (but also, nowadays, in global culture), the rise of the witness, coming from the past to verbalize, publicly, his/her suffering (Feldman, 1991, Wieviorka, 2006).

28 The Holocaust would later be heavily represented in fiction (the eponym American mini-series, in 1978, which was successful in much of Europe), and in documentary (the key work being Claude Lanzmann’s 1985 documentary film Shoah, which contributed to popularizing the Hebrew word for the Holocaust, especially in French). These two genres have been studied, but much more cinema (major reference here: Insdorf, 2003). There is much less on a genre which is crucial for television, documentary (see, however, the recent work by Maeck, 2009, with an interesting comparison between France and Germany). The Holocaust has also been given global political prominence by recent events and celebrations, to the extent that some researchers have claimed there is a “cosmopolitan memory” of the Holocaust (Levy, Sznaider, 2002).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 24

29 One thing is clear, however, images of the Holocaust have become the images of the victims par excellence, and it is impossible to deny their political implications in a global “competition of victims” (Chaumont, 1997) unfolding on the global media scene(s). “Our” conflict is connected to a change in public culture, and in the media culture of conflicts. 30 It is hard to draw a clear balance of the effects of the diffusion of Holocaust images. On the one hand, the diffusion of an image of the Holocaust may be considered as reinforcing the status of the state of Israel as a shelter for the Jews. And the State of Israel has been active in promoting images of the Holocaust. On the other hand, the very diffusion of those images cannot be dissociated from hostile reactions: here the whole history of Holocaust denial comes into play. Finally, another process is at work, no so much the denial than the trivialization of the Holocaust through increased references into culture, especially as metaphors and comparisons for other kinds of conflict.

Comparisons and metaphors

31 Ever since, at least, the first Lebanon war, the partial or more developed comparison of the conflict with the genocide, with the Palestinians as Jews, and, much more controversially, the Israeli side as Nazis as a long history. It is certainly an indication of a form of anti-Zionism, if not anti-Semitism. Then again, we reach another sensitive area of research: the overlapping between anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism, which is probably the area where researchers of representations of the conflict most often disagree. Claiming that anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism are closely related will be correlated with a relatively pro-Israeli position, while denying any connection might well be correlated with the opposite position.

32 However, this comparison (or “amalgame”, see here Koren’s text) is not the only one made between the conflict and other historical situations. Whether the Israeli occupation has some similarity to the apartheid has also been suggested by some media, and some authors (famously Jimmy Carter), drawing much flak from supporters of Israel. Part of the journalistic lexicon is also metaphoric, through the use of words with certain historical denotations and connotations (not necessarily known to the audience), like “kamikazes” (used in French and Spanish for suicide bombers, as noted above), “colony”, “refuzniks” (for Israelis refusing to serve in the territories or in the Israeli army). 33 The meaning and the use of those comparisons also change over time and space. A good example is provided by Dan Berkowitz (2005) is his study of the “Middle East as Wild West” comparison. This is a typical American reference, in a double sense. Not only does it connect with American culture, but it also provides a sense that there is no responsibility, or that both sides are involved in a violent conflict without clear starting point. Thus, metaphors and comparisons be related to wider characteristics of journalistic discourse.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 25

Dynamics of images among the public (or publics?), and the transatlantic divide again

34 We have alluded, several times, to the impact of coverage on public opinion. How can we appreciate, or even measure this? Here it is important to start with an analytic distinctions between specific publics, involved in the conflict for reasons of ideology and or/identity, and public opinion at large, the mass of the public, less involved.

35 The first category includes “diasporas” (lato sensu) of Jews, Arabs, Muslims, who are, for different reasons and in different ways, “stakeholders” in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. There is little doubt that images of Israel, the conflict, Palestinians, not to mention Jews and Arabs, are watched by those publics with particular attention. They react in many ways, especially by activities of media monitoring which started before the Internet, but has received a decisive push through the global network. Media researchers, but sociologists of such diasporas cannot ignore the impact of the media, and, specifically, of the conflict, on such publics. For example, being Jewish in a media world has become increasingly connected to the way Jews, in general, and Israelis, in particular, are represented in a media, especially as individualism among Jews, just like any other religious and cultural communities, has been growing. 36 Among militant publics, the whole question of the value of the conflict for the (radical) left, which has a long history, is the topic most debated. For much of the liberal left in Europe, (and the radical left only in the U.S.), how and why did the Palestinian cause became “the good fight” after 1967, and, even more, after the end of the Vietnam War and other colonial conflicts? How this reinforced the reading of the conflict as a colonial situation, a term which is refused by some, and accepted partially by other, or as a form of “apartheid” (this comparison/metaphor being even more controversial)? There is a number of questions to be posed, and it seems that Academics find it difficult to treat them without passing judgments on the media. 37 Regarding public opinion at large, the questions, and the research methods, are quite different. Here we will discuss opinion polls only. On the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, a huge number has been published. Their systematic collation and study could be quite fruitful. Two problems should be mentioned, which communication scholars know well. Do we have series with the same question, formulated the same way, to allow comparisons between countries, and periods? Often opinion polls are isolated, and their interpretation is limited to a major headline, about sympathy or antipathy for the Palestinians/Israel. A second problem is the choice of timing. An opinion poll in the midst of an Israeli attack in the occupied territories, or right after a Palestinian suicide bombing, is bound to have a very different signification than the answer to the same questions after, say, a peace accord. 38 For Europe, we will propose a single, particularly interesting example of a recurring opinion poll over the years. For the years 1967-2002 in Denmark, the following Gallup table1, gives the answers to the question: who do you think is mostly right in the conflict between Israel and the Arabs? In black: the Israelis. In white: the Arabs (not the Palestinians). In grey: don’t know or think both sides are right. This table confirms the idea that 1967 was a watershed, and a high point of sympathy for Israel. The most striking result is the decline of the support for Israel. But this decline is not automatically converted into political sympathy for the Arabs, although this has grown

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 26

from 2% to 21%. The number of people without opinion, or thinking both sides are right, has steadily grown.

39 Since 2002, the same question has no longer been asked on a regular basis. However, a poll published in the Jyllands-Posten on May 11, 2008 suggests that the clear trend which started in 1967 might have been broken, or at least, blurred. This being Denmark, we must bear in mind the impact of the 2005 affair of the Muhammad cartoons. The sample was asked which side they sympathized with the most. In 2002, 20% sympathized with the Palestinians, 14% with Israel. In 2008, 14,2% with the Palestinians, 20,2% with Israel. We have similar data for France (Bourdon, 2009). In short, European public opinion(s) may enter a new era of “zigzaging sympathies”. 40 When considering the evolution of measured public opinions, the US/Europe divide which we have mentioned many times, appears most clearly. The contrast between this European example, and the US, is vivid. Consider another Gallup table, below. Israel garners the sympathies of a majority of the American public for almost the whole of the 1988-2011 period. The Palestinians never received more than 20% of the sympathies. Even more strikingly – and quite remarkably for an international conflict – the percentage of people who do not take sides tends to go down.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 27

Conclusion

41 The reader expert in one single area will probably feel that a lot is missing, and that this panorama has been painted with very wide brush strokes. However, my ambition has not been to discuss the fine grain of events, but to give some major head chapters, and, if I may insist, without actually taking sides. I know quite well that this is impossible (and can even be contested as a starting point for sound research, see Koren’s article here). For example, some people might consider that refusing to use the word “terrorism” as a simple descriptive term (as I did in this paper), is a way of taking sides. Beyond these controversies, I do hope that I have suggested a number of research questions for everybody interested in the part played by the media (broadly speaking) in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. To speak just like some journalists I have met while researching the coverage: I claim to be honest, and also to consider all data, whether it suits my needs or not; objectivity, or neutrality, are words which I consider very difficult to use in a conflict still unfolding in front of the eyes of so many diversely involved actors, media professionals, and media users.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 28

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Ashuri, T. 2010 The Arab-Palestinian Conflict and the Media, Producing Shared Memory and National Identity in the Global Television Era, London, IB Tauris.

Baram, D. 2004 Disenchantment. The Guardian and Israel, London, Guardian Publications.

Berkowitz, D. 2005 “Telling What-a-Story News through Myth and Ritual: The Middle East as Wild West”, in E. Rothenbuhler and M. Coman (eds) Media Anthropology, Thousand Oaks, CA, Sage, pp. 210-19.

Blanchard, P. 2003 “Les grands médias français face au conflit israélo-palestinien depuis la seconde Intifada”, Annuaire français de relations internationales, Vol IV.

Boltanski, L. 1999 Distant Suffering. Morality, Media and Politics, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

Bourdon, J. 2008 Israël Palestine, l’emprise des images. Documentary film, 112 ’, Paris, French Parliamentary Channel and Institut National de l’Audiovisuel, available at: http://www.ina.fr. 2010 Le Récit Impossible. Le conflit israélo-palestinien et les médias, Paris, De Boecke et INA publications.

Chaumont, J. M 1997 La Concurrence des victimes, Paris, La Découverte

Coulon, L. 2009 L’opinion française, Israël et le conflit israélo-arabe 1947-1987, Paris, Honoré Champion,

Dayan, D., Katz, E. 1992 Media Events. The Live Broadcasting of History, Harvard, Harvard University Press.

Felman S. 1991 “In an Era of Testimony: Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah”, Yale French Studies 79, Literature and the Ethical Question, pp. 39-81 (online).

Finkielkraut, A. 1983 La Réprobation d’Israël, Paris, Denoël-Médiations.

Gilboa, E. 2005 “Media Broker Diplomacy. When Journalists Become Mediators.” Critical Studies in Media Communication 22/2, pp. 99–120.

Gombrich, E. H. 1963 The Cartoonist’s Armoury, Meditations on a Hobby Horse, and Other Essays on the Theory of Art, London, Phaidon, pp. 127–142.

Hess, S. 2006 Through Their Eyes: Foreign Correspondents in the United States, Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 29

Insdorf, A. 2003 Indelible Shadows: Film and Holocaust, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press (3rd edition).

Kassir, S. 1983 La Guerre du Liban et les Médias Français, Revue d’études palestiniennes, No 8.

Khalidi, R. 2004 Foreword to: L’identité palestinienne. La construction d’une conscience nationale moderne, Paris, La Fabrique (Original Publication in English: Palestinian Identity: The Construction of Modern National Consciousness, Columbia University Press, 1997)

Koren, R. 1996 Les Enjeux éthiques de l’écriture de presse, Paris, L’Harmattan.

Kotek, J. et D. 2003 Au nom de l’antisionisme : l’image des Juifs et d’Israël dans la caricature depuis la seconde Intifada, Brussels, Complexe.

Lapierre, J. W. 1968 L’information sur l’État d’Israël dans les grands quotidiens français en 1958, Paris, Éditions du Centre national de la recherche scientifique.

Maeck, J. 2009 Montrer la Shoah à la télévision, Paris, Nouveau Monde.

McAlister, M. 2005 Epic Encounters. Culture, Media and US Interests in the Middle East, 1945-2000, Los Angeles, University of California Press.

Munk, Y. 2011 Exiled in their Borders: Israeli Cinema between the Two Intifadas, Raanana, The Open University of Israel, 2012 (in Hebrew)

Observatoire du Monde Juif 2000 Le conflit israélo-palestinien : les médias français sont t-ils objectifs ? Paris. http:// obs.monde.juif.free.fr/pdf/medias.pdf (last viewed Nov 15, 2012)

Pedelty, M. 1985 War Stories, London, Routledge.

Philo, G., Barry, M. 2004 Bad News from Israel, London, Pluto Press.

Poliakov, L. 1983 De Moscou à Beyrouth, Essai sur la Désinformation, Paris, Calmann-Lévy.

Rouleau, E. 1984 Les Palestiniens d’une guerre à l’autre, Paris, La Découverte/Le Monde.

Sacco, J. 2001 Palestine, Seattle, Fantagraphics Books.

Levy, D., Sznaider, N. 2002 “The Holocaust and the Formation of Cosmopolitan Memory”, European Journal of Social Theory 5(1): 87-106.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 30

Schweitzer, A. Forthcoming Between Aesthetics and Politics: The Reception of Israeli Cinema in France. A testimony.

Segev, T. 1991 The Seventh Million. The Israelis and the Holocaust, London, Maxwell-Macmillan.

Smith, B. 2003 Half a century at the Economist, The Economist, 20 december.

Taguieff, P. A. 2002 La Nouvelle Judéophobie, Paris, Mille et Une Nuits

Le Temps des Médias, Revue d’histoire 2005 Dossier: Shoah et Génocide.

Wieviorka, A. 2006 The Era of the Witness, Ithaca, N. Y., Cornell University Press

Yablonka, H. 2004 The State of Israel vs. Adolph Eichmann, New York, Shoken Books.

NOTES

1. For this section I would like to thank Hanne Foighel who provided me with the figures for Denmark.

ABSTRACTS

This paper puts the representations of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in the Western world into historical perspective, while also evoking the international differences between the media and public opinion in the U.S, on the one side, and in Europe, on the other side. It starts from the favorable image which Israel has enjoyed until the Six-Day War, with the notable exception of the Communist world and its media. This can be explained mostly by the post-war discovery of the genocide, the identification of Israel with a European state in a zone still to be “civilized”, and diplomatic alliances. From 1967 onwards, the media have gradually adopted a more critical stance about Israel, but while this started right away in Europe, it took more time (and remains more subdued) in the US. The Palestinian cause has gradually become a major “good fight”, among left-wing circles, especially radical ones, previously closer to Israel. Israel has become a nation of settlers in occupied territories and a more religious nation, a problematic image in a post-colonial and highly secular Europe. For foreign correspondents, the occupation (televising a powerful army facing civilians) has become the central “story” – in lieu of the heroic narrative of the new State. The “return of the (anti-Semitic) repressed” and its conversion into radical anti- Israeli sentiments must also be considered. It might be that we have entered, since 2005, a third phase. The image of the Palestinian is blurred by the connection with an Islamic world increasingly perceived as a threat, which may create more support for Israel, or, at least, detachment or increased “compassion fatigue”. The US-Europe rift is growing: the American

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 31

public shows much support for Israel, while in Europe, some data suggest that, except for militant or diasporic publics involved in the conflict for specific reasons (and passionately monitoring the media), it is becoming increasingly difficult for the public at large to take sides.

Cette présentation propose un parcours historique des questions majeures que pose l’étude des représentations du conflit israélo-palestinien dans le monde occidental, en évoquant aussi les différences internationales, singulièrement entre les médias et les opinions publiques américaines d’une part, européennes d’autre part. Elle part de l’image favorable dont Israël a longtemps bénéficié dans le monde occidental après la création de l’État en 1948, à la notable exception du monde communiste et de ses médias. Cette “israélophilie”, au moins apparente, peut s’expliquer par la vague de sympathie née après le génocide, par l’identification d’Israël à un État européen dans une zone du monde “à civiliser”, par des alliances diplomatiques… À partir de 1967, les médias occidentaux ont adopté une position plus critique. L’occupation des territoires, identifiée à la colonisation désormais condamnable, la sympathie pour la cause palestinienne devenue peu à peu le “bon combat” pour la gauche et singulièrement la gauche radicale, la montée du fondamentaliste religieux en Israël (spécialement pour une Europe très laïque) constituent des facteurs explicatifs. Le retour du refoulé antisémite sous forme d’anti-israélisme doit aussi être considéré. Pour les correspondants, l’occupation, avec ses images de civils palestiniens face à une armée puissante, remplace le narratif héroïque du nouvel État. Enfin, peut-être sommes-nous entré, depuis 2005, dans une phase plus incertaine. Certains facteurs sont défavorables aux Palestiniens : ainsi la montée internationale de l’Islam radical associés aux attentats suicide, la division entre Gaza et la Cisjordanie. Israël recueille toujours la sympathie américaine, mais en Europe, l’étude de l’opinion publique à long terme suggère que la part des indifférents au conflit s’accroit, même si les minorités de public militants et diasporiques continuent de suivre le conflit (et de surveiller les médias) avec passion.

AUTHOR

JÉRÔME BOURDON

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 32

Still… the power of words

Marius Schattner

“Our enemies called us terrorists. People who were neither friends nor enemies (…) also used this Latin name, either under the influence of British propaganda or out of habit. Our friends (…) called us by a simpler, through also a Latin name: patriots.” Menachem Begin, The Revolt, story of the Irgun 1 Images, as we say in French ne parlent pas d’elles-mêmes, “do not talk for themselves”, even when pictures are taken on the spot, transmitted without the slightest delay, without editing or, at least, apparent editing. The words still tell the story, reveal the background, give the meaning and mark memory when associated with images. This is true for every modern conflict, but even more so for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

2 Are the words so powerful because this confrontation appears as “unbalanced conflict”, which cannot be solved by the power of weapons alone, with no real winners or losers on the field, so that the issue depends largely on the perception that we get from it? 3 Or, may be, because the tremendous emotional and symbolic power of the words in a battle field taking place in the Promised Land of the Jews, the Holy Land of three monotheistic religions? 4 Anyway as journalists who are expected to have an impartial view, who are free of prejudices, uninfluenced by our different backgrounds, and if not necessarily neutral, at least honest. But we find ourselves, against our wishes, in a position no more of being spectators but rather of begin an actors, summoned to taking sides, just by the word we use. And the fact that journalists are more and more pressed to write in the shortest possible way, in a Novololangue adapted for television, smartphones and the Internet, make their task ever more difficult, thus increasing the danger of simplification. 5 So let us try to decipher by a limited number of examples some of the semantic dilemmas to which the journalist is confronted daily, including dilemmas (and

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 33

mistakes) stemming from translation. We may roughly differentiate between names of places, of people, of actions.

Places

6 We use the wording of the international community: “West Bank” and not “Judea and Samaria” – a term which was introduced by Israel after the Six Day War of June 1967, based on the biblical terminology. “Judea” and “Samaria” each have of course historical, religious and geographical meanings. But their association in a single word is new and was imposed to public radio and television by the Israeli political Right, when it came to power in May 1977.

7 We use the term “settlements” (“implantations” or “colonies de peuplement” in French), which is the translation of Yishuv or Hitnahalut, and not the term “Jewish communities”, which appears in Israeli army communiqués (in English but not in Hebrew) – especially when these so-called “communities” are attacked by Palestinians, thus implying that they are victim of hatred of Jews. 8 The people who live in settlements are “settlers”. Translated in French the word is “ colon”. It is true that since the Algerian Independence war, the word “colon” has in French a negative connotation, but there is no other word in French except “colon” for the people living in settlements. 9 We call the territories conquered in the Six Day War and under Israel control till today “occupied” and not “administrated” – a term used by the Israeli authorities, for these territories are under military occupation, against the will of the native population even though certain zones are “autonomous”. By the same logic, we specify that East Jerusalem is “annexed” and “occupied” and not “reunified”. We call the new Jewish neighborhoods built in East Jerusalem after 1967 “urban settlements” (“quartiers de colonisation”) for the same reason, though the Israeli government and the Israeli municipality of Jerusalem insist that they have to be called as just “neighborhoods”, so not to differentiate between them and the Jewish neighborhoods in West Jerusalem. 10 Because Jerusalem is not recognized till today as the capital of Israel by the international community, we avoid expressions which are frequently used in French such as when the name of the capital is a substitute to the name of the country (like “ Washington announce”; “Paris s’oppose”, etc.). 11 There are of course ambiguities, which are basically political, and may be source of confusion, like the term “Palestine”. Ironically, till the creation of the Jewish State in 1948, the Zionist movement used the term extensively. During the British Mandate between 1922 and 1948, “Palestine” meant the sliver of land between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River – nowadays Israel, the West bank, the Gaza Strip. It was translated to Hebrew by the word Eretz Israel in official documents and on stamps. Today, especially in reference to a future Palestinian state, it can mean only the West Bank, and Gaza. When people call in demonstrations for “Free Palestine”, it is not very clear what land they have in mind.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 34

People

12 How, in a single word, to call the Palestinians engaged in violent actions against Israel: “fighters”? (which suggests “freedom fighters”), “résistants” in French? (with its very positive connotation), “guerilla”, or “terrorist” as they are called most of the time by Israeli authorities and media? Should the authors or these attacks be qualified as “ activists” or “militants” (words which have different meanings in French and in English) or “terrorists”, especially when they commit suicide attacks?

13 Of course it depends on the context, where an attack takes place, in Israel or in occupied territory, against whom, civilians or military. Who puts a bomb in a public bus in an Israeli town commits evidently an act of terrorism. But the one who opens fire against a military patrol or even kidnap a soldier? And how to call this soldier: a prisoner or a hostage? 14 In many cases the borderline is not crystal clear. So press agencies avoid using words which are too emotionally charged, like “terrorist” or even more so, “terrorist group” (with the exception of al Qaeda in the wake of 9/11. 15 They do not use the word “freedom fighters” or “martyrs” (shahid) to qualify a Palestinian killed by Israelis, while in the Arab media the word “shahid” describes both a child killed by an Israeli bomb and a suicide bomber.

Actions

16 Helped by pro-Palestinians activists, people in the Palestinian villages of B’ilin or Nahalin west of Ramallah demonstrate regularly against the confiscation of land for the sake of the nearby Israeli settlement or the building of the fence. At the end of the weekly demonstrations, youngsters or children throw stones; the army fires back, avoiding in principle the use of lethal weapons. Yet people are killed. How to call them? The army call these demonstrations “violent riots” (implying that there are non violent riots), the demonstrators call them “peaceful demonstrations”. Here again the journalist is faced with a dilemma. And is it just a “security fence” that Israeli has completed, or an “Apartheid wall”, as the Palestinians call it? So we use the more general word “separation fence”.

17 Describing military operations involves similar questions. It is often written that Palestinian “launched rockets from Gaza” and Israeli “reacted”, while the chain of attack and response is more complex: for Palestinians also respond. But it is true that the initiative mostly comes from Palestinian armed groups who consider that they “respond ” to Israeli occupation. 18 Of course we could provide many more examples. There is also an important element in the “war of words” – in which journalists are on front line: The necessity to be fast, to impress the public, while news sadly become some sort of “reality show” in a region where tension seems always to be on the rise. Tension which is slowing down is no news: “when it bleeds it leads”.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 35

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bourdon, J. 2009 Le récit impossible, le conflit israélo-palestinien et les médias, Paris, De Boecke.

Schattner M. 2001 “Les armes du mensonge”, Le Monde, 24 mai 2001.

Whitaker B. 2001 “Israel wins war of words”, The Guardian, 9 April 2001.

ABSTRACTS

Images, as we say in French ne parlent pas d’elles-mêmes,“do not talk for themselves”. The words still tell the story. This is true for every modern conflict, but even more so for the Israeli- Palestinian one. One of the reasons being the tremendous emotional and symbolic power of the words in a battle war taking place in the Promised land of the Jews, the Holy Land of three monotheistic religions. Anyhow, as journalists we are expected to have an impartial view, free of prejudices, uninfluenced by our different backgrounds, and if not necessarily neutral, at least honest. But we find ourselves, in position no more of spectators but actors, summoned to taking sides, just by the word we use. So let us try to decipher by a limited number of examples some of the semantics dilemmas the journalist is daily confronted, including in translation.

Les images, on ne le sait que trop bien, “ne parlent pas d’elles-mêmes”. Associés aux images, les mots pour le dire gardent leur poids. C’est vrai pour tous les conflits modernes. C’est particulièrement vrai pour le conflit israélo-palestinien ne serait-ce qu’à cause de la charge émotionnelle de la Terre Sainte. Les observateurs neutres, impartiaux, libérés des préjugés, que sont censés être les journalistes, se trouvent ainsi bon gré malgré dans un rôle d’acteurs, ne seraient ce que par les mots qu’ils utilisent. Je tente de décrypter par un nombre limité d’exemples les stratégies sémantiques de chaque camp et expliquer les choix et dilemmes auquel le journaliste est confronté, y compris dans les traductions.

INDEX

Keywords: Israel, Palestine, Journalist, Medias

AUTHOR

MARIUS SCHATTNER

Journaliste franco-israélien, correspondant de 1981 à 2011 de l’AFP à Jérusalem, Marius Schattner est l’auteur d’une Histoire de la droite israélienne (Complexe, 1991), d’Israël, l’autre conflit, Laïcs contre religieux (André Versaille éditeur, 2008) et de plusieurs articles dans la revue Esprit. Il prépare avec l’historienne Frédérique Schillo un ouvrage sur la guerre du Kippour de 1973 à paraître en octobre 2013. Israeli-French Journalist, correspondant between 1981 and 2011 of AFP (French Press Agency) Marius Schattner is the author of Histoire de la droite israélienne (Complexe, 1991), of Israël, l’autre

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 36

conflit, Laïcs contre religieux (André Versaille éditeur, 2008) and few articles in revue Esprit. He prepares a book with the historian Frédérique Schillo on The Yom Kippur War, expected publication October 2013.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 37

Beyond neutrality and/or political commitment The ethical commitment of the discourse analyst

Roselyne Koren

1 Most French linguists, discourse analysts and even argumentation scholars maintain that a researcher can and is obliged to remain neutral and objective even if his object is “hot”, and by hot I mean polemical andor political, in our case: the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. As a member of this scientific community – I am a linguist dealing with discourse analysis and its links to argumentative theories and rhetorical devices – I approve and share this stand as often as possible and do not wish to judge, moralize or evaluate systematically every text I have to describe, question and comment on.

2 I will try to demonstrate, however, that there are cases where this decision is disputable and where neutrality and objectivity are no longer relevant nor justified. My contention is that in these cases refusing to cross the red line separating neutrality from commitment is problematic from a scientific point of view. There is a risk of leading to a refusal to see and know what is anchored in discourse, taking in vain a fundamental scholarly function of constructing and transmitting knowledge linked with evaluation and action. This stand is not justified on a priori political grounds but on knowledge established by some theoreticians in the sciences of language. It is, in my view, for an Israeli scholar the only raison d’être of the right to analyze and criticize the way the state of Israel and the conflict are portrayed in the French medias. Most of my French colleagues assert that one has to dissociate radically research and militant commitment which is a question of citizenship and not of research; my contention is that this dissociation prevents us from seeing that there is at least a third option which is not ideological: scientific ethical commitment adequate to the axiological components of discourse and by axiological, I mean conveying explicit or implicit value judgments, evaluations of what is good or bad from an individual or collective point of view. 3 We should remind these theoreticians of the following: language is not a harmless technical mirror of reality, but a formal symbolic arbitrary structure, an extremely powerful mode of social life; one of its fundamental and unavoidable mechanisms is

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 38

selection consequently linked with the notion of subjective choice; the essence of language theorized by the famous linguist Emile Benveniste (1966) is fundamentally subjective. The verbal act of saying “I, Je” transforms the speaker, in his terms, into a human social being; this act is automatically linked to the simultaneous emergence of “tuyou” so that subjectivity and inter-subjectivity are the pillars of discourse defined as a central mode of social life. When Benveniste deals with subjectivity, he does not mean emotions but the basis of the human cognitive aptitude and the interdependence of the notions of individual and society in language. And last, but not least, we know that one of the fundamental functions of language is to build and transmit information and knowledge, so that the subjective utterer is responsible for the referential truth of his assertions; we also know, however, due to the rhetoric of Aristotle and to his reinterpretation by Perelman in The New Rhetoric, that discourse is also activated simultaneously by a logic of values. Due to this logic we justify our choices, opinions and decisions which lead to persuasion and action, to polemical debate and disagreement or to a heuristic negotiation of our respective stands. Language is not only a set of techniques dealing with truthful representation, it is also a discursive space where we deal with values such as good, bad, just and unjust and with conceptions of norms and argumentative rules grounded in referential truth, but also in ethical rectitude or efficiency which have often nothing to do with truth. So the speaker is accountable not only for truthful information, but also for his explicit or implicit ethical evaluations and value judgments which are an essential component of social and political discourses. All of us have to speak, whether we like it or not, in linguistic patterns coined by the circulation of language in society, but the subjective system of discourse also contains an indelible component of autonomy regulating the speaker’s liberty and responsibility. Does it mean that to be rational, a presentation has to remain in the field of referential truth and discursive objectivity? My contention as a rhetorician is radically different and I will try to prove it in my case study. There are, in my view, other regimes of rationality grounded in critical evaluation and justification; an ethical decision can and must be explained and justified as rigorously as a judgment of fact. The passive dominated audience of an assertion mirroring reality “telle quelle” has to accept it without trying to discuss it; the audience of an arguer dealing with the justification of what is right or wrong, just or unjust, honest or fallacious from his point of view, is the master of the game. The speaker’s argumentation is not rational a priori, it’s axiological rationality depends on the construction of the argumentation and on the “critical rationalism”1 of the addressees. Their identification with the speaker’s point of view cannot be imposed by any kind of force. The rationality of the arguer’s speech is then achieved by the interaction with an autonomous audience and also by an interior dialogue with a third anonymous type of audience which Perelman calls the “universal audience”2. This addressee is called by Bakhtine the “surdestinataire”; he is also grounded in the profound subjective system of discourse where he plays a crucial ethical role. The speaker has to try, in front of this inner ethical instance, to aspire to surpass himself. The function of this aspiration is to prevent him from violating the social values system of his community but also his own personal beliefs. There is however no guarantee that this speaker will prefer to aspire to equity and to renounce for example to the benefits of the demonization of the Other, in the name of justice… 4 So if the dominant Cartesian values system presents neutrality as the ultimate value, and if however absolute objectivity is linguistically impossible, how can journalists but also scholars affirm that one can choose to remain neutral and pretend that language

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 39

can be the mirror of referential truths? When an article – or a scientific paper – seems, in spite of the knowledge that has been evoked above, to appear neutral and objective, my contention is that these appearances are grounded in well-known rhetorical devices which create artificial effects of objectivity. There are a lot of such devices: erasure of the verbal traces of the speaker’s presence, impersonal syntactic forms, citations, attribution to facts of human behaviors, numerical indications, counting of victims and statistics transformed in salient events. One can observe, for example, in the following statements the attribution of human behaviors to facts: the irony of history has transformed the former terrorist into the institutional head of the State, The situation requires serious economic changes, etc. Erasing the verbal presence of the speaker can also transform a value judgment, an opinion into a pseudo-neutral judgment of fact. The utterer then can pretend that he is not responsible for his report; he presents himself as the neutral mirror or the “loud-speaker” of indisputable self-evidences.

Beyond neutrality or political commitment: the ethical commitment

5 So my proposition of a different conception of the ethics and commitment of the scholar is grounded in the above epistemological stands. I do not pretend that my proposition is unique and original. The English school of discourse analysis, the American theories of informal logic and the argumentation theory of the pragma- dialectic center of Van Eemeren in Amsterdam do not hesitate to be normative; the refusal of normativity is specific of most of the scholars in the sciences of language in France. The English school of discourse analysis3 asserts for example explicitly that its theory is grounded in a Marxist ideology of social life, but that it does not impair the scientific aspect of a conception of research deeply anchored in close reading and linguistic knowledge. I do not wish however to enter any prior ideological conviction in my scientific frame; my conception of the discourse analyst’s commitment is not political but ethical and by ethical I mean in this paper: questioning the verbal rectitude and the discursive responsibility of scholars and journalists dealing with the image of the State of Israel and of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. What is at stake here is the accountability not only to referential truth but also and often simultaneously to value judgments about what is good or just, bad or unjust and to the consequences of verbal stands in a context of questions of life and death.

6 Discourse analysts and the linguists generally agree that there are no verbal specific signs of truths and lies; I do not intend to criticize this established fact. Most of these scholars also deny the possibility and the scientific right of designating and describing verbal traces of deliberate manipulation or argumentative fallacy. When they admit that there are polemical devices of destruction of one’s public face or image, they restrict themselves to the description of these devices and refuse to utter any value judgment on the eventual consequences of these types of demonization even if it may constitute an implicit legitimization of lethal intentions. The discursive responsibility of the utterer’s value judgments is not a scientific objective in their view. My contention is however that reasoning in a deliberately deceptive way implies visible linguistic traces of argumentative and discursive dysfunctions. These dysfunctions have to be deconstructed and evaluated if one wishes to lead to an emancipator function of knowledge. I will try to show that fallacies, deliberate verbal manipulation,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 40

and bad faith are not optical illusions depending on the addressee’s benevolent or malevolent perception in particular socio-historical contexts. One can designate the procedures and the verbal places of discursive and argumentative dysfunctions: informal natural logic is normed less rigorously than formal logic, but ethical norms of rectitude, and the rules derived from them, are anchored in the deep structure of discourse and are well known and defined by scholars4. So, in my view, it is scientifically relevant to ask such questions as: ”Is this reasoning valid ?“, ”What are the limits beyond which the argument is not admissible ?“, and to try to answer in a rational scientific way, even if you know and accept a priori that your conclusions are refutable and will surely be discussed. The alternative for the scholar who prefers not to enter these pitfalls where it is so difficult to trace clear and absolute frontiers between bad faith and discursive rectitude is meta-linguistical scholarly silence; refusal of being simultaneously spectator and actor and consequently, in my view, refusal of dealing with a lethal component of language and with its consequences in cases of life and death, refusal of knowing, analyzing and evaluating the part of the speaker’s responsibility which does not deal with referential truth but with value judgments. Scholarly silence about this component of language is not imposed, in my eyes, by ethical incontestable professional rules, but by a rationalist fear of judging and taking a stand. My contention is that in the field of ethical vital questions the discourse analyst has to turn to “critical rationalism”, and by critical I mean evaluative axiological rationalism grounded in scientific knowledge and activation of the ethical responsibility of any speaker.

From theory to practice…

7 Let us move now from these theoretical considerations to a concrete case study: the role played in the presentation of the conflict by a rhetorical device called in French l’amalgame5, a term which can be translated to English as fallacious analogy, translation containing a scientific normative stand: ”fallacious“ refers indeed to a manipulative dysfunction in the well-known frame of analogy. Analogy plays a central role among the verbal arguments establishing the structure of extralinguistic realities; it is considered by Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca (1971) in the The New Rhetoric A Treatise on Argumentation as a crucial heuristic argument, stimulating reflection and thoughtful debate. The basic analogical pattern is “A” is to “B” what “C” is to “D”, which underlines a partial similarity between the type of link binding “B” to “A” and “D” to “C”; “AB” being the unknown phoros, and “CD” the known theme helping the audience to define and conceptualize the unknown. “AB” and “CD” are heterogeneous, but this fact is not an obstacle to the construction of knowledge: what is at stake is only a partial similarity. There are several types of analogies : for example ”A“ is to “B” what “A” is to “C” where “A” can be , for example, the notion of totalitarianism (namely totalitarianism is to the German political power in 1940-45 similar to totalitarianism activated by the communist executive power, totalitarianism being so transformed into a general common qualification). Analogy becomes fallacious when the speaker authorizes himself to deduce, from this partial similarity, that one can glide from it towards total assimilation. If ”A” is to “B” what “C” is to “D”, then “AB” and “CD” are no longer heterogeneous, but totally equal: “CRS = SS”, “IDF (Tsahal) = Wehrmacht” and “Gaza = the Warsaw Ghetto”. One can then consider that if they are equal, one has to apply in their case the “rule of justice”6; an argument stipulating that identical entities

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 41

have to be treated in the same way in the name of an egalitarian rationalism refusing to judge and evaluate lest they become unjust and partial. The role of the well known theme “CD” is often played in the “amalgame” by one of the actual paragon of the evil: Nazism, Hitler, the SS, racism, fascism, apartheid, etc. Gliding from analogy to historical metaphors implies a procedure of discursive condensation which gives to the metaphoric qualifications the appearances of disturbing pseudo self-evidences. In the case of the “amalgame”, the historical heuristic metaphor turns into an axiological incriminating qualification which justifies implicitly the target’s destruction. Fallacious metaphors such as “CRS = SS” ground their power in efficiency and not in referential truth or ethical rectitude. The verbal force of the amalgame should not to be confused however with the brilliance of truth or self-evidence; the fallacious assimilation becomes irrelevant from the moment one opposes it historical essential differences, which have been obscured to mask ideological or lethal stands such as: if “X” equals “evil incarnate” then it is legitimate to ask for the physical destruction or for the public de-legitimization of the target’s right to exist. The assimilation of the Israeli- Palestinian conflict to WW II and the procedures of nazification and demonization of the state of Israel are at stake here. I am quite aware that there are also some Israeli people using “amalgames” for de-legitimizing Palestinian politicians or even their own political adversaries. I’m also aware that the fallacious analogy is not specific to the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, and that this conflict has not invented it. It has become today a rhetorical international device which tries to justify and legitimize implicitly punitive violent sanctions or hatred in a period of human history where killing or hating are condemned by the western systems of values.

8 So if using fallacious analogies is not specific of the image of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict we are dealing with, if “CRS = SS”, “Nazism = Communism”, “Milosevic = Hitler”, “Islamism = Nazism” are also well known and frequent lethal formulas, is there no difference at all between the use of this device in the Middle East and in the case of other international actual targets ? Let us analyze some examples and try through them to answer this question. 9 1. Libération (20.09.1982) publishes after the massacre of Sabra and Chatila the following statement in an editorial by Gérard Dupuy: “In a period following the great Nazi genocide you witness a major perversion of Jewish ethics. […] The Israelis say: ‘we did not want’, ‘we did not know’. But do you think that the German populace […] acknowledged joyfully the existence of Dachau and Auschwitz?”7. The rhetoric of this editorial is of course much more subtle than the equation “Nazi Germany = Israel”; it leads implicitly to the following points by simply juxtaposing the evocation of the theme, the massacre of Sabra and Shatila next to the phoros “Nazi genocide”; this syntactic structure creates through juxtaposition a new type of discursive synonyms. The assimilation of the Israeli people to the “German populace” follows a similar procedure: people who say the same thing when discovering the existence of massacres are identical; this identification justifies another one, the assimilation of the camp of Palestinian refugees to Dachau and Auschwitz. We can observe here a rhetorical device called by Libération (21.09.1982) the “Copernican revolution”, namely a phenomenon of inversion of the roles of victim and hangman which implies implicitly that the real murderers of the Palestinian refugees are the Israeli soldiers. This inversion is an additional device constituting a specific trait of the fallacious analogy in the

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 42

Palestinian-Israeli conflict. A second trait is the excessiveness of a repeated fallacious equation of Israel to the absolute evil. 10 2. Additional illustration: an extract of an editorial of Jean Daniel also published in 1982. It could constitute a link with the actual rhetoric using the phoros “ghetto” to refer to Gaza. Daniel’s article “Pour l’honneur d’Israël” begins by a pseudo-lexicographic definition of the notion of ghetto: “the place where a population finds refuge, the place where they are parked, enclosed, locked up, what do you call it? A ghetto. You may invoke whatever you wish, that the rapprochements are painful, the fact remains nevertheless unavoidable.”8 This definition constitutes the ground of a total assimilation of the ghetto with the camps of Sabra and Shatila. The editorialist infers then from the total identity of these two places that the Palestinian victims have become “the Jews of their butchers” (“les Juifs de leurs massacreurs”). Israel has lost, asserts Jean Daniel “the caution of the martyr which has sanctified its origins”. What is here singular to the rhetoric constructing the public image of Israel is the “Copernican revolution” which reverses the roles victimhangman, the implicit questioning of Israel’s right to exist and the exorbitance of the peremptory tone of “the fact is nevertheless unavoidable” which presents an opinion and a fallacious analogy as a truthful indisputable judgment of fact. What is common however to the journalistic rhetoric of the presentation of several contemporary conflicts is the Manichaean oscillation between demonization and victimization making it impossible to think of the complexity of the conflicts in political, socio-historical terms. This rhetoric does not question the lethal consequences of these assimilations and places the appeal to emotions, such as compassion versus hatred, above the contribution to the explanation of the complex ins and outs of the enemies positions.

Conclusion

11 My decision to argue in favor of a scientific ethical commitment is essentially linked here with the decision to unmask fallacious assimilations, which constitute more or less an implicit justification of hatred and destruction. This decision implies the activation of a scientific knowledge which permits justifying every step of a conception of discourse analysis integrating an argumentative logic of values. Does this choice impair scientificity? Does it dispossess the audience of its freedom of thought? My contention is that it does not impair it nor dispossesses anyone of his freedom of thought as long as the following conditions are fulfilled: explicit distinction between the levels of scientific description and explanation on one side and ethical evaluation on the other side, justification of the scholar’s point of view anchored in scholarly knowledge, accountability for judgments of fact but also for value judgments, acceptance of the fact that a speech act cannot mediate absolute truths but only subjective disputable and refutable opinions. However, everyone, scholar and citizen included, has, in my view, the right and sometimes the obligation to judge and protest against bad faith and argumentative fallacies when it is an ethical question of life and death.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 43

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Amossy, R. 2008 “Responsabilité journalistique et responsabilité politique. Le journal Ha-aretz face à la commission Winograd sur la deuxième guerre du Liban”, Questions de communication, n° 13, pp. 109-127.

Benveniste, E. 1966 Problèmes de linguistique générale, 1. «De la subjectivité dans le langage», Paris, Gallimard, pp. 258-266.

Bourdon, J 2008 “Le lieu de la critique”, in B. Fleury & J. Walter (éds.), Metz, Université Paul Verlaine-Metz, pp. 113-132.

Fairclough, I & Fairclough, N. 2012 Political Discourse Analysis, London and New York, Routledge.

Fleury, B. &Walter, J. (Eds.) 2008 Les Médias et le conflit israélo-palestinien Feux et contre-feux de la critique, Metz, Université Paul Verlaine-Metz.

Koren, R. 1995 “Concerning an ‘argumentative monster’: the perverted analogy in French journalistic discourse”, in F. H. Van Eemeren, R. Grootendorst, J. Blair, C. A. Willard, Reconstruction and Application, Sic Sat, International Center for the Study of Argumentation, University of Amsterdam, vol. III. 1996 Les Enjeux éthiques de l’écriture de presse et la mise en mots du terrorisme, Paris, L’Harmattan. 2002a “‘La nouvelle rhétorique’, ‘technique’ et/ou ‘éthique’ du discours : le cas de l’ ‘engagement’ du chercheur”, R. Koren & R. Amossy (éds.), Après Perelman : Quelles politiques pour les nouvelles rhétoriques ?, pp. 197-228, Paris, L’Harmattan. 2012b “Langage et justification implicite de la violence : le cas de l’amalgame”, in L. Aubry et B. Turpin (Eds.), Victor Klemperer. Repenser le langage totalitaire, Paris, CNRS Éditions.

Perelman, Ch. & Olbrechts-Tyteca, L. 1971 (1958) The New Rhetoric A Treatrise on Argumentation. Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press.

Van Dijk, T. A. 2009 “Texte, Contexte et Connaissance”, Semen 27, pp. 127-155, URL: http://semen.revues.org/ 8890.

Wodak, R. 2009 “Pragmatique et Critical Discourse Analysis : un exemple d’une analyse à la croisée des disciplines”, Semen 27, pp. 97-125, URL : http://semen.revues.org/8878.

NOTES

1. See Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca (1971), p. 514: “The theory and practice of argumentation are, in our view, correlative with a critical rationalism that transcends the duality ‘judgments of reality’-‘value judgments’”.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 44

2. See, regarding this notion, Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca (1971), p. 31-35. 3. See, regarding this theoretical frame (Critical Discourse Analysis): I. & N. Fairclough 2012, R. Wodak or T. A. Van Dijk 2009. 4. One can also easily observe verbal marks of argumentative dysfunctions in the frame of humor, irony, jokes and puns. See for example Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca (1971), p. 204, “Presenting theses as compatible or incompatible”: “an amusing case of the application of retort”. 5. See, regarding this device, Koren 1995, 1996 and 2012. 6. See, regarding this argument, Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca (1971), pp. 218-220. 7. My translation of: “On assiste, au sortir du grand génocide nazi, à une perversion majeure de l’éthique juive. [...] Les Israéliens diront “On ne voulait pas, on ne savait pas.” Mais croit-on que le populo allemand [...] a reconnu de gaieté de cœur l’existence de Dachau ou d’Auschwitz?” in “Le sang chaud de sang-froid”, Éditorial, G. Dupuy, Libération, 20.09.1982. 8. My translation of: “Le lieu où une population se réfugie, le lieu où on la parque, l’enferme, la boucle, cela s’appelle comment ? Un ghetto. [..] On pourra invoquer ce qu’on voudra, dire […] que les rapprochements sont douloureux, le fait n’en demeure pas moins […] incontournable”. J. Daniel, Éditorial, Le nouvel Observateur, 25.09.1982.

ABSTRACTS

The aim of this contribution is to revisit the question of the duty of objectivity of the researcher, analyst of media discourses on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It is not to contest the validity of a “neutral” posture, but rather to reexamine it and to amend it in particular cases where matters of life and death are analyzed. The author shows that this amendment is necessary not for political but for ethical reasons: even if words do not kill, they can however legitimate a vilifying image of one side, while rendering acceptable deadly violence of the other and incitement to hatred.The author will try to justify the following hypothesis: objectivity or, on the contrary, political commitment, are not the only options in matter of scientific position. There exists a third option, namely an explicit ethical commitment of the researcher, supported by scientific knowledge.

Cette contribution souhaite problématiser la question du devoir d’objectivité du chercheur, analyste de discours médiatiques sur le conflit israélo-palestinien. Il ne s’agit pas de contester la validité de la posture “neutre”, mais de la revisiter et de l’amender dans les cas où les corpus analysés ont des questions de vie et de mort pour objet. On soutiendra que cet amendement est rendu nécessaire pour des raisons éthiques et non pas politiques : les mots certes ne tuent pas, mais il peuvent contribuer à la légitimation de la diabolisation et de la violence mortifère ou de l’incitation à la haine. L’auteur tentera de justifier l’hypothèse suivante : l’objectivité ou au contraire l’engagement politique ne sont pas les seules options en matière de positionnement scientifique ; il en existe une troisième : l’engagement éthique explicite, justifié par un savoir scientifique.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 45

INDEX

Keywords: Israeli-Palestinian conflict, analogy, objectivity, commitment, ethics, fallacy, New rhetoric

AUTHOR

ROSELYNE KOREN

Roselyne Koren is Full Professor of Language Sciences at the French Department of Bar-Ilan University and coordinator, with Professor Ruth Amossy, of the research group ADARR (Discourse analysis Argumentation Rhetoric). She is the author of Les Enjeux éthiques de l’écriture de presse et la mise en mots du terrorisme [Ethical stakes in press writing and putting terrorism into words] (Paris, L’Harmattan). She is also the author of numerous articles and chapters on the following questions: the regulation of appearances of discursive objectivity and subjectivity in the French written press, denomination and implicit argumentation; the ins and outs of argumentation by analogy; publications about totalitarian discourses, demonization in polemical discourses, axiological evaluation in discourse, scientific research and commitment, enunciative responsibility, ethics of discourse.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 46

Peace Journalism, the Israeli- Palestinian conflict, the German press and the German public*

Wilhelm Kempf

Definitions of Peace Journalism

There’s a war between the ones who say there is a war and the ones who say there isn’t. (Leonard Cohen, There is a War) 1 Media contribute to the social construction of reality, on one hand, by introducing specific topics into public discourse (agenda setting; McCombs & Shaw, 1972) and, on another, by presenting these topics (framing; Goffman, 1974) in such a way “as to promote a particular problem definition, causal interpretation, moral evaluation and/ or treatment recommendation for the item described” (Entman, 1993).

2 Similarly, Jake Lynch & Annabel McGoldrick (2005) provided a compact formula for what Peace Journalism (PJ) is about when they defined it as follows: “Peace Journalism is when editors and reporters make choices – of what stories to report, and how to report them – which create opportunities for society at large to consider and to value non-violent responses to conflict.” 3 As a formula for the aims of PJ, this definition is quite comprehensible. As a working definition, however, it lacks precision and can easily be (mis)understood as a program of advocacy journalism that requires active contributions by reporters to peaceful conflict resolution (Loyn, 2008) and entails overstepping the thin line between journalism and public relations (Hanitzsch, 2008).

4 As a consequence, (if not war) at least antagonism has broken out between those who support the PJ concept and those who do not. Many journalists, such as David Loyn, fear that PJ could compromise their integrity and their role as neutral disseminators of

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 47

information, and they feel they are under attack when “the advocates of Peace Journalism … lump everyone else together … as ‘War Journalists’” (Loyn, 2008, 61). 5 When Annabel McGoldrick (2008) launched her attack on journalistic objectivity, the situation worsened. Critics of PJ refused to give up the quality norms of journalism and accused PJ of being the opposite of good journalism (Loyn, 2008). 6 Understanding myself as one of the pioneers of PJ1, I must admit that they are not completely wrong: If PJ understands itself as an advocacy journalism that disregards journalistic quality norms, it is in danger of not only deteriorating into the opposite of good journalism, but also of jeopardizing its own goals and becoming a Journalism of Attachment. 7 Partisanship in the name of peace, creating one’s own conflict resolution plan and designating an evildoer who is allegedly to blame for not adopting this plan – these can easily promote enemy images and partisanship for those regarded as the victims of the evildoers. Accordingly, it was no surprise when one of the most popular advocates of PJ posted a couple of anti-Israeli blogs during the Gaza War.

The need for Peace Journalism

All we are saying is give peace a chance. (John Lennon, Give Peace a Chance) 8 In order to avoid these dangers, I propose that we modify Lynch & McGoldrick’s definition as follows: “Peace Journalism is when editors and reporters are aware of their contribution to the construction of reality and of their responsibility to “give peace a chance.” 9 Even if we adopt this definition, however, the critics of PJ may still cling to the view that PJ is at best meaningless (Loyn, 2008), or perhaps just old wine in new bottles (Hanitzsch, 2008), and they may still deny the need for PJ, “since most of the legal framework, and the codes of conduct for journalists, written by trade unions and responsible employers, provide a sufficient framework which prescribes what journalists can do and what they cannot do” (Loyn, 2008).

10 Regarding this point, however, they are definitely wrong. The codes of conduct for journalists are definitely not sufficient to guarantee high quality journalism that is neutral, objective and unbiased. • As countless media content analyses have demonstrated, the mainstream of war reporting has an escalation-prone bias, and so-called quality journalism does not live up to its own norms. • Even though most journalists try to do a good job, they often fail and end up doing biased reporting and – in the worst case – a sort of conflict coverage which looks like war propaganda plain and simple.

11 Journalists don’t just report facts, they also give them meaning. And even if they try to report truthfully, they can only write what they personally believe to be true. However, journalists are members of society, and they often share the same beliefs as other members of their society.

12 Particularly in long-lasting intractable conflict, however, these societal beliefs include, among others, beliefs about the justness of one’s cause, one’s victim role, the delegitimizing of the enemy and the defense of personal and national security through

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 48

a policy of strength. According to Bar-Tal (1996), it can be assumed that these societal beliefs can be found in any society engaged in intractable conflict, especially in those that successfully cope with it. They are necessary for enduring intractable conflict, and any nation at war, therefore, tries to create and maintain these beliefs by means of propaganda. 13 Nonetheless, they are not just an ideology imposed on society from outside or by its political leaders, nor are they just the result of misleading propaganda. They arise from a long history of experiences with concrete conflicts at a high level of escalation, and they are constituted as a generalized interpretation of these conflicts. Once these beliefs have emerged in a society, they provide a framework (war frame) that literally interprets every interaction with the opponent as another event in the great historical drama of the struggle between “good” and “evil.” 14 In order to give peace a chance, journalists need to distance themselves from these beliefs and replace them with a different interpretative frame (peace frame) that acknowledges the justification (of at least some) of the interests of the other side, recognizes mutual victim roles, ends the delegitimizing of the opponent and strives to achieve personal and national security through a peaceful solution (Kempf, 2011b).

How Germans frame the Israeli-Palestinian conflict

He’s the Universal Soldier and he really is to blame, his orders come from far away no more, they come from here and there and you and me. (Buffy St. Marie, Universal Soldier) 15 The escalation dynamics of conflicts are decisively influenced by whether a conflict is interpreted as a competitive or as a cooperative process. Competitive conflicts have a tendency to expand and escalate and go together with typical misperceptions (Deutsch, 1973) that become motors of conflict escalation and – in the long-run (Kempf, 2003) – solidify into the above-named societal beliefs.

16 The members of a society directly affected by a conflict are not the only ones who develop such beliefs. Outsiders trying to make sense of a conflict in which they are not themselves engaged will also interpret it either in the sense of a peace frame (win-win model) or of a war frame (win-lose model). How a person positions himself toward a conflict – which side he takes, e.g., in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict – thus depends essentially on the mental model he forms of the conflict. 17 Particularly in Germany, the way people position themselves toward the Israeli- Palestinian conflict is quite ambivalent, however. The World War II lesson of “never again fascism, never again war” implies a tendency to adopt the Peace Frame (never again war). But, it is ambivalent with regard to human rights. “Never again fascism” can be interpreted in two ways: • as support for the victims of National Socialism, which implies a tendency toward unconditional solidarity with Israeli policy and a weakening of the peace frame. This can go so far that it turns into a war frame: (never again fascism, therefore war), as was the case (in part) in 1990/91 Gulf War discourse (Kempf, 1994), or

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 49

• as support for human rights worldwide, which implies rejecting at least some aspects of Israeli policy and includes solidarity with the Israeli peace movement and at least a certain degree of empathy with the Palestinian side. Although this tends to strengthen the peace frame, it also poses the danger of adopting the war frame and siding with the Palestinians.

18 The results of a recent survey (Kempf, 2011a) demonstrate that this danger is quite real. One of the aims of the survey was to reconstruct the mental models according to which people in Germany interpret the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Starting from the conception that mental models have not only a cognitive, but also an affective aspect, we designed three separate scales for participants’ “concern about the conflict,” their perception of the “ambivalence of war and peace” for both Israelis and Palestinians, and their “positioning with regard to the conflict.” As a first step, we identified typical response patterns for each of the three scales, and in a second step, we then inferred the participants’ mental models by identifying the meta-patterns in which they combine concern, ambivalence and positioning.

19 Concern: The results of the survey showed that the more they are concerned, the better the participants consider their knowledge of the conflict to be. The more participants feel affected by the conflict, the fewer there are who do not feel attached to one side or the other, the more there are who have visited Israel and/or the Palestinian territories, the more there are who have had personal contact with Israelis and/or Palestinians, and the more there are who have Israeli and/or Palestinian friends, relatives or acquaintances. 20 Ambivalence: With increasing concern, participants’ sensitivity for the ambivalence of war and peace changes from empathy for Israel’s security dilemma via uncertainty about whether peace can offer Israel security, to recognizing the ambivalence of peace for both parties, to regarding the status quo as the lesser evil for Israel, to naive pacifism: “peace is good, war is evil,” and finally to uncertainty as to whether war is really very bad for the Palestinians. 21 Positioning: At the same time, the dominant position participants take to the conflict shifts from no position at all via an ambivalent peace frame with sympathy for Israel to an ambivalent peace frame with sympathy for the Palestinians, to a polarization between a pro-Israeli war frame, pro-Palestinian peace frame and a pro-Palestinian war frame. 22 From this point on, the participants’ positions switch to the Palestinian side: The (mainly) naive pacifists interpret the conflict according to a pro-Palestinian peace frame on the edge of a war frame, and the participants who are most concerned about the conflict and – at the same time – do not fear that Palestinian violence is an obstacle to the establishment of a Palestinian state interpret the conflict according to a pro- Palestinian war frame. 23 Comparing the results of our representative study with those of a (non-representative) pilot study, we also found that there was a dramatic shift in the way participants position themselves to the conflict. From one year after the Gaza war (November 2009 – February 2010), when the data for the pilot study were collected, to the months after the Israeli navy’s seizure of the Free Gaza ship (June 2010 – November 2010), when the data for the survey were collected, the share of participants who interpreted the conflict according to a pro-Palestinian peace frame decreased dramatically, and instead

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 50

there arose a group of participants who interpreted the conflict according to a pro- Palestinian war frame. In our pilot study, we did not find any such group.

How to do Peace Journalism

And brothers can’t you see, this is not the way we put the end to war. (Buffy St. Marie, Universal Soldier) 24 If journalists are to give peace a chance, they need some easy-to-follow guidelines for how to do this, and for many journalists and peace researchers, Galtung’s (1998, 2002) famous table which contrasts PJ with conventional war journalism seems to offer such a guideline. As a guideline, however, it has some crucial shortcomings: • It creates a simple dualism between PJ, on the one hand, and War Journalism, on the other. • It only describes the outcome of the two approaches. • It does not tell us how to reach our goal.

25 Both the antagonism between those who subscribe to PJ and those who do not, and the tendency to understand PJ as a variant of advocacy journalism that deliberately disregards the norms of quality journalism are simply logical consequences of these shortcomings.

26 PJ should be employed, but it is not helpful to expect journalists to distance themselves from the dominant beliefs of their society. Societal beliefs are part of a society’s ethos, and they are also part of the psychological infrastructure that enables societal members to hold up under the stress of war (Bar-Tal, 1996). They construct society members’ views of conflict in a way that seemingly proves the truth of the stereotypes and prejudices that foster these views (Kempf, 2003), and the only way to break out of this vicious circle is to learn to accept the facts before they are interpreted (Martin- Baró, 1991). 27 Only if a society does this can conflicts that persist after a peace treaty or that arise during peace processes be understood in a way that gradually overcomes prejudices and transforms a war culture into a more constructive social contract between former enemies. • The first rule for journalists who aim to facilitate such a process of social learning, therefore, is to mistrust the superficially plausible. • And the second rule is to ask the right questions.

28 A peace or reconciliation discourse is not a discourse about peace or reconciliation, and especially not a discourse that harmonizes contradictions or suppresses conflicts. It is a matter of how to deal with conflict. Correspondingly, the best way to characterize the various discourse forms in which journalists may engage is in terms of the questions they focus on. • In war discourse, it is a matter of “Who is guilty?” and “How can they be stopped?” • Peace discourse asks, “What is the problem?” and “How can it be solved?” • And when a reconciliation discourse is appropriate, the focus is on questions such as “Who is the other?” and “How can we meet each other with mutual respect?”

29 The choice of a suitable discourse form is essential for the developmental dynamics of peace processes, and – as Lea Mandelzis (2007) has shown in the case of the Oslo Process – mistakes in choosing a discourse form can easily create overly optimistic

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 51

expectations. Their disappointment can spread ill-feeling in the population and ultimately has the consequence that the discourse turns into a renewed war discourse.

30 For this very reason, it would be inappropriate to engage in a reconciliation discourse during the ‘hot’ phase of a conflict. If journalists manage to maintain a critical distance from belligerents of every stripe and make the public aware of the high price violent conflict imposes on all participants, they have already accomplished a lot. Proposals for solutions are a delicate matter at this stage of a conflict, however, and there is a risk that societal members will rashly dismiss coverage as implausible or as hostile counter- propaganda. Therefore, in this phase the chief aim can only be to find a way out of the fixation on violence and mutual destruction and to alert the public to an external viewpoint that can deconstruct the conflict parties’ antagonistic conceptions of reality. 31 Once this is accomplished and the parties no longer automatically perceive every voice for moderation as hostile, PJ may enter into a constructive process and focus coverage on the question of how to start peace processes and how to build peace.

How the German quality press frames the Israeli- Palestinian conflict

And he knows he shouldn’t kill, and he knows he always will. (Buffy St. Marie, Universal Soldier) 32 In every escalating conflict, there comes a point when the parties start to seek allies and to divide the world into those who are “for us” and those who are “against us.” PJ doesn’t have any easy solutions for such situations. Quality journalism cannot refrain from reporting issues that are unfavorable to one party or the other and, in the light of increasing sympathy for the Palestinian cause in the German public, it is not surprising that German media are often accused of providing one-sided reportage on the Middle East conflict and displaying narrow partisanship for the Palestinian position (cf. Anti- Defamation League, 2002; Jäger & Jäger, 2003; Wistrich, 2004; Krämer, 2010).

33 Criticism like this should not be taken lightly. In order to decide whether there is a growing pro-Palestinian bias in the German media, we compared the coverage of the second Intifada and the Gaza War in the big five German national quality papers which cover the entire political spectrum and are generally regarded as representative for the German media landscape (cf. Wilke, 1999): Die Welt (DW), Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (FAZ), Süddeutsche Zeitung (SZ), Frankfurter Rundschau (FR) and Die Tageszeitung (taz). 34 The results of our study (cf. Maurer & Kempf, 2011) demonstrated that media coverage of both conflicts was much more complex and differentiated than assumed by critics, and during the Gaza War the German quality press likewise did its best to avoid taking the Palestinian side. 35 The press tried hard to satisfy the quality norms of journalism and to report in an objective and detached manner. In many regards, it maintained a uniform distance from both conflict parties, it was quite critical of both sides’ policies, and it tried to make clear the pluralism of both societies. 36 Nonetheless, the coverage of the two wars did not really live up to PJ as defined above, and the results of our study showed the negative impact of the news selection

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 52

mechanisms that Galtung blamed for the escalation-prone bias of conventional war journalism as early as 1998. • Due to the news factor “social, cultural, historical proximity,” more was reported on the Israelis than on the Palestinians. Only with regard to victims (and due to the actual number of victims) did the German papers report less about Israel than about the Palestinians. • Due to the news factor “negativism,” German coverage was dominated by negative news. It focused on the employment of force, the victims of violence, as well as on the conflict parties’ confrontational and threatening behavior and thus put not only the Palestinians, but also Israel in a bad light.

37 In this context, Israeli actions were more often criticized than those of the Palestinians. Israel’s strength and confidence of victory, competitive logic, its confrontational behavior and threats to it were more often reported than on the Palestinian side. This makes Israel appear extremely powerful and uncompromising and could possibly favor a “David versus Goliath” image that encourages solidarity with the Palestinians.

38 Trying to provide balanced reportage, however, the German media neutralized this negative effect by displaying a measure of understanding for Israeli policies, so that on balance Israel came off looking better than the Palestinians. • Israel was more frequently portrayed in a defensive position than were the Palestinians, and the threat to Israel was more often thematized. • Israeli actions were more often justified, Israel’s rights were more often acknowledged, and not only Israel’s cooperative behavior, but also its readiness for cooperation were thematized more often.

39 Due to the different nature of the two wars, during the Gaza War the reportage situation tended to shift in favor of the Palestinians, however. • There were more frequent reports on threats to the Palestinians and on Palestinian victims than during the second Intifada, and the calculation and comparison of victim statistics was more frequent. • Cooperative behavior, offers of cooperation and threatening behavior were less often thematized for both sides, and the focus of the reportage shifted to Israeli use of force, on the one side, and confrontational Palestinian (political) measures, on the other. • While the focus on Palestinian use of force declined during the Gaza War in favor of a competitive logic and confrontational behavior, during the Gaza War Israeli use of force was focused on about twice as often as during the second Intifada. Thereby an impression was given of an increasing asymmetry between Israel’s (excessive) use of force and the Palestinian’s (mere) political confrontation.

40 Thus, the media image of Israeli actions during the Gaza War was more negative than during the second Intifada, and that of Palestinian actions, in contrast, not quite as negative as previously. This partial leveling of the differences between the representations of the two parties’ actions was, however, probably due more to the facts and the specific characteristics of the two wars than to bias in favor of the Palestinians.

41 Quite to the contrary, differences in German reportage on the two wars indicate a clear tendency to tone down a reporting situation unfavorable to Israel. • Also, during the Gaza War, Israel’s behavior was still less negatively represented than that of the Palestinians.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 53

• Israel’s seemingly excessive use of force was balanced with reportage that justified Israeli actions, increasingly represented Israel as taking a defensive position and less often thematized Israel’s superior military power. • To be sure, the frequency of justifications of both conflict parties’ actions decreased during the Gaza War, but the judgment of Israeli intentions and actions did not change in comparison with the second Intifada and also remained largely positive during the Gaza War. • Instead, reportage on events that could turn readers against Israel was counteracted by a negative shift in the evaluation of Palestinian intentions and actions. • Thereby the imbalance between the two parties increased in favor of Israel. Whereas during the second Intifada Israeli behavior was justified somewhat more than twice as often, during the Gaza War this rose to four-and-a-half times as often.

42 This asymmetry between increased portrayal of Israeli use of force, on the one side, and increased justification of Israeli actions, on the other, is also mirrored in the punctuation of the conflict and the representation of its victims. • Thus, during the Gaza War reportage on victims and numbers of victims admittedly shifted in favor of the Palestinians, but this was counteracted in that Israel (relative to the Palestinians) was increasingly represented in a defensive position, and Israel’s superior military force was (relatively) less often thematized. • Although the amount of coverage devoted to the two sides was not as dramatically unequal as during the second Intifada, during the Gaza War the threat to Israel was still represented more than twice as frequently as that to the Palestinians. • And although both parties were less often represented in a defensive position during the Gaza War, the ratio between the two parties shifted in favor of Israel. While Israel was represented twice as often in a defensive position during the second Intifada, this rose to more than three times as often during the Gaza War.

43 Summarizing these results, we can state that the coverage of the German quality press did not meet the standards of PJ. • While the press aimed at objective, detached and balanced coverage, it tended to follow the pattern of conventional war reporting (cf. focus on violence and confrontational behavior), which did not really give peace a chance but merely put both sides in a bad light. • Moreover, the particular way the press tried to balance coverage during the Gaza War produced a tension between a reportage situation that could favor pro-Palestinian solidarity among readers, on the one side, and a framing of the reportage that was favorable to Israel, on the other.

44 On the background of German-Jewish history and precaution against the rise of a “new” Israel-centered anti-Semitism, this way of “balancing” is quite understandable. But it may also provoke a backlash and even make existing latent anti-Semitic prejudices and stereotypes salient: Prejudices from the repertoire of latent anti- Semitism – e.g., “One [i.e., the German press] is not allowed to say what one really thinks about the Jews.” – or insinuations from the repertoire of manifest anti-Semitism – e.g., “International Jewry has a firm grip on the German press and dictates how it has to report.”

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 54

How the German public copes with media frames

You don’t believe in war, but what’s that gun you’re totin’?’ (P. F. Sloan, Eve of Destruction) 45 According to the present state of framing research, media frames do not have a linear effect on public opinion. The effects of framing result more from the interaction between media frames and the a priori mental models (individual frames) with which people make sense of the issues covered by the media. Depending on the recipients’ mental models, partisan war journalism may also produce a backlash, and consequently we should not be overly optimistic about the potentially positive effects of PJ.

46 In a recent experiment (cf. Kempf & Thiel, 2012) we confronted the participants in six experimental groups with differently framed reports on either Israeli or Palestinian violence: A Palestinian suicide attack in Tel Aviv in April 2006 and an Israeli military operation in the Gaza Strip at the end of February and beginning of March 2008. 47 Using original material from the German quality press and based on Kempf’s (2003) model of escalation- vs. de-escalation oriented conflict coverage, each of these scenarios was framed either • according to an escalation oriented pro-Israeli war frame which condemns Palestinian violence and/or justifies Israeli actions, or • according to an escalation oriented pro-Palestinian war frame which condemns Israeli violence and/or justifies Palestinian actions, • or according to a de-escalation oriented peace frame which focuses on the costs of war for both sides.

48 In accordance with previous studies (cf. Bläsi et al., 2005; Spohrs, 2006; Schäfer, 2006; Möckel, 2007), the results of the experiment were quite encouraging for PJ. The participants generally evaluated the peace frames as more understandable, less biased, more balanced and more impartial.

49 Nonetheless, these effects were not uniform. • Due to their sensitivity to the propaganda function of reports about violence and victims (cf. Herman & Chomsky, 1988), participants who positioned themselves according to a pro- Palestinian war frame (or on the edge of one) rejected reports about Palestinian violence as biased in favor of Israel, and conversely, those who interpreted the conflict according to a pro-Israeli war frame rejected reports about Israeli violence as biased in favor of the Palestinians. • As well, participants dismissed media frames that were incompatible with their own positioning to the conflict as less understandable, more biased and partisan in favor of the opposing side. • Moreover, even participants who themselves interpret the conflict according to a peace frame projected the Israel-friendly bias of German mainstream coverage onto the media peace frame and regarded it as somewhat biased in favor of Israel.

Summary

50 Summarizing both the theoretical considerations and the empirical studies that I have presented in this paper, I conclude that the norms of quality journalism are a necessary

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 55

but not sufficient condition for the production of quality journalism during conflicts and crises. In order to give peace a chance, • journalists need to refrain from the media’s focus on negative news • they need to refrain from a superficial balancing of their reports, and • they need to mistrust the superficially plausible, refrain from oversimplification and ask the right questions.

51 If they succeed, they will find an audience that appreciates their coverage as more understandable and less biased, more impartial and more balanced than conventional war reporting.

52 Nonetheless, we should not be over-optimistic about the beneficial effects of PJ. In an antagonistic situation where society members have already made up their minds as to who is good and who is bad, journalists must be aware that news recipients who already side with one party or the other may reject the peace frame as less understandable and more biased in favor of the opposing party. 53 Moreover, in an antagonistic situation like this, PJ risks coming under fire from belligerents on all sides and, therefore, requires great courage on the side of journalists. Nonetheless, PJ is a worthwhile endeavor, and in the long-run it may contribute to a society’s co-construction of reality in a more beneficial and productive way.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Anti-Defamation League 2002 European attitudes toward Jews: A five country survey. New York: Anti-Defamation League. http://www.adl.org/anti_semitism/EuropeanAttitudesPoll-10-02.pdf.

Bar-Tal, D. 1998 “Societal beliefs in times of intractable conflict: The Israeli case”. International Journal of Conflict Management, 9/1, pp. 22-50.

Bläsi, B., Jaeger, S., Kempf, W. and Spohrs, M. 2005 “Glaubwürdigkeit und Attraktivität von eskalations- und deeskalationsorientierten Nachrichtentexten”. In: Projektgruppe Friedensforschung Konstanz (ed.) Nachrichtenmedien als Mediatoren von Peace-Building, Demokratisierung und Versöhnung in Nachkriegsgesellschaften. Berlin: Regener, pp. 203-234.

Deutsch, M. 1973 The resolution of conflict. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Entman, R. M. 1993 “Framing: Toward clarification of a fractured paradigm”. Journal of Communication, 43/4, pp. 51-58.

Galtung, J. 1998 “Friedensjournalismus: Warum, was, wer, wo, wann? ” In: Kempf, W., Schmidt-Regener, I.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 56

(eds.). Krieg, Nationalismus, Rassismus und die Medien. Münster: LIT-Verlag, pp. 3-20. 2008 “Peace journalism: What, why, who, how, when, where”. In: Kempf, W. (ed.). The peace journalism controversy. Berlin: Regener, pp. 19-33.

Goffman, E. 1974 Frame analysis. An essay on the organization of experience. New York: Harper & Row.

Hanitzsch, T. 2008 “Situating peace journalism in journalism studies. A critical appraisal”. In: Kempf, W. (ed.). The peace journalism controversy. Berlin: Regener, pp. 69-80.

Herman, E.S. and Chomsky, N. 1988 Manufacturing consent. The political economy of the mass media. New York: Pantheon.

Jäger, S. and Jäger, M. 2003 “Medienbild Israel. Zwischen Solidarität und Antisemitismus”. In: Medien: Forschung und Wissenschaft Vol. 3, Münster/Hamburg/London.

Kempf, W. 1996 “Konfliktberichterstattung zwischen Eskalation und Deeskalation”. Wissenschaft & Frieden, 14/2, pp. 51-54. 2003 Constructive conflict coverage. A social psychological approach. Berlin: Regener. 2008 News coverage of conflict: Between escalation and de-escalation. In: Kempf, W. (ed.). The peace journalism controversy. Berlin: Regener, pp. 11-18.

2011a Criticism of Israel, modern anti-Semitism and the media. Diskussionsbeiträge der Projektgruppe Friedensforschung Konstanz, N° 70. Berlin: Regener. 2011b Peace Journalism. In: Christie, D. J. (ed.). Encyclopedia of Peace Psychology, Vol. II, Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell.

Kempf, W. and Thiel, S. 2012 “On the interaction between media frames and individual frames of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict”. Conflict & communication online, 11/2.

Krämer, S. 2010 Interview in the news magazine Focus on 17 May 2010.

Loyn, D. 2008 “Good journalism or pace journalism?” In: Kempf, W. (ed.). The peace journalism controversy. Berlin: Regener, pp. 53-68.

Lynch, J. and McGoldrick, A. 2005 Peace journalism. Stroud, UK: Hawthorn Press.

Mandelzis, L. 2007 “Representations of peace in news discourse: Viewpoint and opportunity for peace journalism”. In: Shinar, D. and Kempf, W. (eds.). Peace journalism: The state of the art. Berlin: Regener, pp. 97-110.

Martin-Baró, I. 1991 “Die psychischen Wunden der Gewalt”. In: Kempf, W. (ed.). Verdeckte Gewalt. Psychosoziale Folgen der Kriegsführung niedriger Intensität in Zentralamerika. Hamburg: Argument, pp. 29-47.

Maurer, M and Kempf, W. 2011 “Israelkritik und Antisemitismus? Eine vergleichende Analyse der deutschen Presseberichterstattung über 2. Intifada und Gaza Krieg”. Conflict & communication online, 10/2.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 57

McCombs, M. E. and Shaw, D. L. 1972 “The agenda-setting function of mass media”. Public Opinion Quarterly, 36, pp. 176-187.

McGoldrick, A. 2007 “War journalism and ‘objectivity’”. In: Shinar, D. and Kempf, W. (eds.). Peace journalism: The state of the art. Berlin: Regener, pp. 17-25.

Möckel, J. 2007 News from the Holy Land. Akzeptanz und Wirkung von Konfliktberichterstattung im Fernsehen. Universität Konstanz: Diplomarbeit.

Schaefer, C. D. 2006 “The effects of escalation vs. de-escalation-orientated conflict coverage on the evaluation of military measures”. Conflict & communication online, 5/1.

Spohrs, M. 2006 “Über den Nachrichtenwert von Friedensjournalismus – Ergebnisse einer experimentellen Studie”. Conflict & communication online, 5/1.

Wilke, J. 1999 “Leitmedien und Zielgruppenorgane”. In: Wilke, J. (ed.). Mediengeschichte der Bundesrepublik Deutschland. Cologne: Böhlau, pp. 302-329.

Wistrich, R. S. 2004 The Politics of Ressentiment: Israel, Jews, and the German Media. Jerusalem: SICSA.

NOTES

*. Paper presented at the conference on “The dynamics of images in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict” in Jerusalem and Tel-Aviv, Nov. 7-8, 2011. Funded by the German Research Society (Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft – DFG), grant No KE 300/8-1. 1. The first version of my PJ model (Kempf, 1996, 2008) was published two years prior to Galtung’s (1998, 2008).

ABSTRACTS

The present paper discusses the potentials and limitations of Peace Journalism (PJ) and exemplifies them with the results of (1) a recent survey of the mental models (individual frames) according to which Germans interpret the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, (2) a comparative analysis of the German press coverage of the second Intifada and the Gaza War, and (3) an experimental study on how the German public copes with the frames that are offered by the media.

Cette présentation discute le potentiel et les limites du "journalisme de paix" (peace journalism). Elle s’appuie sur des travaux récents. 1. Les résultats d’une enquête sur les modèles mentaux (cadres individuels) avec lesquels les Allemands interprètent le conflit israélo-palestinien. 2. Une analyse comparée de la couverture par la presse allemande de la seconde Intifada et de la guerre

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 58

de Gaza de 2008-9. 3. Une étude expérimentale de la façon dont le public allemand négocie les cadres (frames) qui lui sont proposés par ses médias.

INDEX

Keywords: Peace Journalism, Media Frames, Competitive Misperceptions, Gaza War, Second Intifada, Audience Frames

AUTHOR

WILHELM KEMPF

Wilhelm Kempf, Dr. phil. habil., since 1977 Professor of Psychological Methodology and Director of the Peace Research Group at the University of Konstanz, Germany. Since 2002 editor of conflict & communication online (www.cco.regener-online.de). Special areas of interest: nonviolent conflict resolution, the construction of social reality by the mass media. Recent books: Constructive Conflict Coverage. A Social Psychological Approach (2003); The Peace Journalism Controversy (2008); Readings in Peace Journalism (2010).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 59

Blogging around and beyond the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

Delphine Matthieussent

1 As a correspondent for Liberation I was exposed to the internet through my blog and the online reactions of my readers. I enjoyed the freedom provided by the internet that allowed through my blog to give a glimpse of daily life here, around and beyond the conflict. But I was also exposed to the backdrops of such an immediate and anonymous media.

2 My experience as a journalist covering the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in connection with the internet is double. Firstly it is linked to the blog I ran for about two years that was posted on the Liberation web site. Secondly, my articles and my blog postings put on line on Liberation web site provoked numerous reactions from the readers. The violence of some of these reactions pushed me to think about what was unique to the internet. 3 First, the blog. My idea in starting it was to try to give an insight about daily life here, everything that is not directly related to the conflict and that I found interesting but never managed to insert in my articles for the newspaper. I called this blog “Greetings from Jerusalem, chronicles of an almost ordinary life”. 4 I fulfilled an old dream by becoming correspondent for one of the main French newspapers in Jerusalem in 2006. But after having imagined for years checkpoints, secret meetings, tales of war and peace and anonymous sources, I became quite quickly discouraged with “the Conflict” with a big “C”. 5 As time passes by, it became more and more difficult for me to see the end of the conflict because I had the recurrent feeling of “déjà vu” on the political and diplomatic levels. I was disappointed in the dead end that the so called “peace process” seemed to have reached. I became increasingly interested and even fascinated by so-called “small things”; these small details of ordinary daily life, on the Palestinian and Israeli side, that shed a different light on what is going on here. 6 Just to give a few examples, I wrote about very trivial things like the arrival hall at Ben Gurion airport that I find so typically Israeli with people shouting and hugging each other. You can also see there the incredible diversity of Israeli society: from religious

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 60

families arriving with all their kids, to young people having traveled the world after their military service coming back a bit hazed with their huge backpacks. I also wrote about less trivial things like the atmosphere in Jerusalem on “Yom Kippur” (Kippur holy day) and “Yom haShoah” (Day of rememberance of the Holocaust). 7 Sometimes I couldn’t escape writing about the conflict in my blog but it was from a different angle from what is usually reported in the media. My blog allowed me to report things about the conflict that are rarely reported in the main news media because they don’t fit into one narrative or another (Israeli or Palestinian). Mainly the fact that, despite the closures and the occupation, Israelis and Palestinians do sometimes have contacts. 8 For example I wrote about the story of Ezzedine abu Al-Aish, this Palestinian doctor working at Tel Aviv Tel Hashomer hospital, who lost three of his four daughters when his house was bombed during the Israeli operation in Gaza in the winter 2008-2009. One of his good friends is Israeli Channel 10 anchor Shlomi Eldar. Just after the bombing of his house, Abou al-Aish called Eldar on his cellphone and begged for help because his fourth daughter was badly injured and he wanted to try to evacuate her to an Israeli hospital. Eldar picked up the phone while he was live on TV. His face turned blank when he hear the screams of abu Al-Aish on his phone. He put the speaker on so that anyone can hear: “Shlomi please, get us out, please…” Eldar interrupted his program, get up and said: “I think I have to go”. He leaved the studio and managed through his contacts to have an ambulance evacuate his friend’s daughter to Israel. 9 Beyond the content – the fact that I could write about topics that I couldn’t have included in my articles – my blog also allowed a freedom of writing that is often forbidden in journalism. The A-B-C of journalism is to focus on facts and to pretend that as a journalist you are a “neutral observer”, just collecting information and facts and editing them. This is true even when you write a feature piece, as I used to do on a regular basis for Liberation. In my current job at AFP facts are even more important because the stories that we put on the wire are the basis that other journalists use to build their own stories. 10 What I really enjoyed about the blog is that I didn’t have to pretend anymore that I was this “neutral observer”. On the contrary, it is expected that the author of a blog writes in the first person, expressing his opinions, feelings, analysis of the events he is describing. I could finally say “I”, which is forbidden in most of the cases in print journalism. 11 Regarding the reactions on Liberation website to the articles I wrote for the newspaper, I was struck by two things. First, the fact that most of the readers were ideologically driven, pro or anti Israel, for or against the Palestinians. They were almost systematically going back the conflict no matter what I was writing about (sometimes culture, society, or other subjects unrelated to the conflict). The article was actually just a pretext for them to give their opinions. 12 Secondly, the wording of these opinions was sometimes so violent that the moderator of the website decided not to publish them. 13 My conclusion was that: • The Internet magnifies the ideological filter through which the conflict is often analyzed. • The fact that it is anonymous creates a kind of free zone in which verbal violence goes unrestrained (thus the use of the moderator).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 61

14 To conclude, the Internet allows journalists – through blogging – a different, freer way of writing that what is usually accepted in the profession. It also exposes them way more to the reactions of their readers who often use the article as a pretext to express their own opinions taking advantage of the anonymity provided by the internet.

ABSTRACTS

As a correspondent for the French daily newspaper Liberation, the author was exposed to the internet through her blog “Greetings from Jerusalem, chronicles of an almost ordinary life” and the online reactions of her readers. She enjoyed the freedom provided by the internet that allowed through her blog to give a glimpse of daily life here, around and beyond the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. But she was also exposed to the drawbacks of such an immediate and anonymous media.

En tant que correspondante à Jérusalem du quotidien français Libération, l'auteur a été exposée à internet à double titre: à travers son blog "Bons baisers de Jérusalem, chroniques d'une vie presque ordinaire" et également via les réactions des lecteurs sur le site du journal à ses articles parus dans la version papier. Elle a apprécié la liberté qu'offre internet, qui lui a permis, avec son blog, de donner un aperçu de la vie quotidienne ici, autour et au-delà du conflit israélo- palestinien. Mais elle a aussi pu mesurer les risques d'un media aussi immédiat et anonyme.

INDEX

Keywords: Israel, Palestine, Journalist, Internet, Blog

AUTHOR

DELPHINE MATTHIEUSSENT

Delphine Matthieussent is a journalist with Agence France Presse in Jerusalem. She was the correspondent for French daily newspaper Liberation from 2006 to 2011. Delphine Matthieussent est journaliste à l’Agence France Presse à Jérusalem. Elle a été la correspondante en Israël du journal Libération de 2006 à 2011.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 62

The Dynamics of Images in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

Visualizing the conflict

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 63

Mapping Israel/Palestine Constructing National Territories across Different Online International Newspapers

Christine Leuenberger

Acknowledgments: I am grateful to the Fulbright Scholar Program for the Middle East, North Africa, Central and South Asia Regional Research Program (grantee number G48413539) and the National Science Foundation (award number 1152322) for research support. I am particularly thankful to Jérôme Bourdon for his encouragement to write this paper. I am also grateful to Simone Tosoni, Trevor Pinch, George Lowery, and Eitan Alimi for helpful comments and suggestions.

Mapping Israel/Palestine

1 Since the Iraq war in 2003, we are more aware than ever of the role the media can play in conflict situations. Journalists embedded with American troops advancing on Baghdad were accused of bias, propaganda, and for taking on the invaders’/liberators’ perspective. At the same time, Iraqi victims dematerialized on American TV screens as they were neither seen nor heard. They had become enemy targets envisioned only through high-tech lenses (Gusterson 1991; Warburg 2003).

2 One of the most polarizing debates is how the media covers the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Palestinian as well as Israeli protagonists maintain that the media is explicitly either pro-Israel or pro-Palestinian. Pro-Palestinian sources argue that news stories tend to be explicitly pro-Israeli as they eliminate Palestinian accounts, rationales, and concerns. Pro-Israeli groups and lobbyists, on the other hand, complain about anti- Israeli and anti-Semitic views expressed in the media1. With the increasing use of graphics and maps in newspapers, protagonists have also suggested that certain news outlets chose certain maps and map layers deliberately in order to further particular political positions. For these critics, there is a direct and pre-determined link between map-choice and politics2. 3 Underlying these critiques is the assumption that journalists are like scientists following scientific methods. Their stories are to be objective, value-free, verifiable,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 64

and the product of disinterested observers. They also should embody what neoclassical economics call ‘homo economicus’, people acting independently and rationally, based on a maximum level of information available. Science Studies has long dispelled the myth of the rule-following and disinterested scientist, and even economists have largely buried ‘homo economicus’ so as to better understand economic action in the social world. Why then do we still expect journalists to provide that impossible birds- eye view of contentious political events? The philosopher Jacques Derrida pointed out that one cannot stand on higher, more neutral ground and gaze objectively at the social world. On the contrary, we are always on the inside and thus “reporting from no perspective at all” is untenable (Zelizer, 2002). ‘Bias’ therefore is inevitably part of all reporting. This is not due to a reporters’ deliberate distortion of news, but rather stories are always selective. They omit as much as they include. Indeed, according to constructivist approaches in Media Studies, news stories are selective as they unavoidably provide an interpretative frame by which to understand events. Stories are thus framed and packaged in ways that are tied to broader cultural developments and they are sustained by sets of institutions, networks, resources and power politics (Alimi 2006; Gamson et. al. 1989; Ryan et. al. 2006; Wolfsfeeld et. al. 2008). 4 Arguably such a constructivist approach to Media Studies in conjunction with insights from the Sociology of Knowledge, Science Studies, Critical Cartography and Cultural Studies provide useful conceptual tools to think about map-making as news making within its context of production (Black 1997; Crampton et. al. 2006; Crampton 2009; Gamson et. al. 1989; Hall 1997; Jasanoff 2004; Leuenberger et. al. 2010; Monmonier 1989; Monmonier 2006; Van Leeuwen 2001; Wood et. al. 2008). Accordingly, map-making, like the scientific endeavor, can be understood as ‘situated’ practices (Suchman et. al. 1999; see also Perrin 2011). In other words, the newsroom brings together various actors, materials, technologies, and resources that enable and constrain certain activities. It is therefore the peculiarity of local cultures, social and interactional contingencies, as well as various institutional and political circumstances that impact map-making as news making. It is such diverse conditions that can explain how and why maps may converge or diverge with ideologies and politics at any given time and place. 5 In order to understand the visual rhetoric of maps I also draw on a methodological framework developed elsewhere (Leuenberger and Schnell 2010). The analytic focus is thus on the following four aspects of map-making: visual signifiers (that includes features such as a map’s projections and scale, levels of cartographic detail, and choice of colors), textual signifiers (such as the naming of places and other signifiers that load an image and reveals its target audience), and the demarcation of the space (which creates a spatial hierarchy as only certain geographical or infrastructural features are included) (Pickles, 1991; Harley, 1991). Furthermore, the analysis of a map’s context of production, circulation, and use, can illuminate the choice of particular visual and textual information, the map’s intended meanings and target audiences, as well as how the map’s meanings are interpreted by users (see Van Leeuwen 2001). Critical cartographers have also increasingly shifted their focus from investigating the design and content of maps to analyzing them as a social practice (Kitchin and Dodge 2007). Therefore the study of maps should not only include their analysis as meaningful objects, but also how particular meanings become embedded in their making. Relevant questions then become: how are maps produced, designed, and contested in practice and how do they come to incorporate certain forms of knowledge and certain forms of politics (Crampton 2009)? How do locally available resources, materials, and

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 65

technologies impact map-making? And how do the visual and textual devices integrated into maps communicate political meanings? In order to address some of these concerns, I draw on a data corpus that contains ethnographic fieldnotes on cartographic practices and qualitative (face-to-face and online) interviews conducted between 2008-2012. The maps discussed here are drawn from a collection of maps used in various European, British, American, Arab and Israeli online newspapers. I will specifically focus on the British online news produced by The Guardian and the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), the American online news produced by The New York Times and the Chicago Tribune, as well as the Arabic news service, Al-Jazzera online, in order to exemplify generic mapping practices that were present across the data corpus.

Why look at maps?

6 Journalistic maps have become ever more widespread since the 1970s. Maps used in news media constitute a distinctive “cartographic genre” (Monmonier 1989: 14). They tend to be visually simple in terms of content and symbolization; they tend to be narrowly focused and present a very selective view of the globe; and they usually can be understood without specialized training. They are also designed to communicate a message instantly and unambiguously (Gilmartin 1985; Monmonier 1989). They need to be – more than other maps – rhetorically effective so as to remain newsworthy and hold the readers’ attention and interest. As one journalist pointed out: “we choose maps for readability and clarity” (Journalist G 2011). A journalist at The New York Times also maintained that: “We generally err on the side of clarity... The simplicity we try to achieve is an aesthetic in itself”3.

7 Traditionally, the most common maps used in newspapers are ‘locator-maps’ and ‘explanatory maps’: they focus on where an event has taken place and why. Such maps often are an extension of a textual essay, but can also present an “independent graphic essay” (Monmonier 1989, 23). The rise of online news, mobile devices, cartographic software, and interactive graphics are, however, increasingly transforming how maps in the news are used. Interactive graphics provide new possibilities and constraints for how maps are designed and contextualized within news stories, and new software provides large geographic databases that can be used to design maps in new ways4. 8 Critical cartographers also point out that map-making has ever more been transformed from a disciplinary expertise to a ‘people’s cartography (Crampton and Krygier 2006; Monmonier 2006). New web-based software, open source mapping applications and the Internet provide for a more and more user-defined mapping environment5. Therefore maps have exponentially increased in the public sphere – from the news media to the blogosphere. Journalistic maps are particularly important because they, unlike scientific or navigational maps, are the maps most encountered by the public at large (Crampton 2009). They can influence public perception of foreign, domestic, and local problems. Thus “the news media are society’s most significant cartographic gatekeeper and its most influential geographic educator” (Monmonier 1989, 19). 9 Despite their potential impact on the public imagination, journalistic maps, and how they are produced, circulated, and interpreted, have been understudied (Crampton 2009; Monmonier 1989). Given their increasing importance in the public sphere, however, it is ever more important to investigate how maps can become rhetorical resources to make various social, cultural and political claims (Leuenberger and Schnell

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 66

2010). Critical cartographers have long pointed out that maps are not objective representations of the world ‘out there’, but rather mapmakers inevitably choose certain themes, scales, and relations. They hereby affirm the existence and significance of some features, signaling that “some things, some people, some places are worthy of our notice, and others are not” (Perrin 2011: 301; see also Alimi 2006). In this paper I therefore trace how various online news sites include or eliminate certain geographical features when depicting Israel and the Palestinian Territories, and how such choices become politics by other means. In the following I will first sketch out the social context of map-making as news-making and how certain structural issues, such as access to either Israeli or Palestinian news sources, impact not only news stories, but also map-making. I will then discuss how the visual and textual grammar of maps can be interpreted as politically meaningful.

Making Maps as ‘Situated’ Practice

10 Mapping in practice is always messier and more unpredictable than we would commonly assume. Graphic artists and journalists encounter a range of constraints and possibilities when choosing, designing, or buying a map. This can include a news agency’s resources, ability to access information, internal guidelines, and staff, as well as the need to produce a newsworthy story by a deadline and accommodate to certain political pressures. There are, for instance, always a range of technical and economic resources and constraints. Depending on the size of the news agency, cartographic material may come from public, commercial, private, or in-house sources. In-house graphics departments may have access to various maps, which can be retrieved from previous stories, the software available, or reference libraries. The material at hand can determine the maps reproduced in the story, such as the base map (that either delineates or eliminates the border markings between the West Bank, the Gaza Strip, and Israel). One journalist pointed out that he buys all maps online: “On the matter of maps and graphics, I know that we buy “stock art” maps from Istock and Getty… As you will note, editors and photo editors have lots and lots of choices” (Journalist G 2011). 11 Such online stores include maps with varied scales, designs and content. Some maps represent the whole of Israel and eliminate the West Bank and the Gaza Strip; others delineate the territory according to internationally recognized treatises6. Which map is chosen can depend on various factors such as the available space and formatting of the story, the knowledge and experience of the graphic designer, or the visual appeal of the map. The political preferences of the graphic designer or the editor may also impact the choice of map. As one journalist pointed out: “it would be easy to distort representations of territory, for example, if one were trying to reinforce a bias” (Journalist G 2011).

12 It may not only be individual biases that can impact the choice of map, but also editorial policies and guidelines that are often specified in news agencies’ stylebooks. These are used for reference, training and as a template for ‘redesign’ (Monmonier 1989: 143) They are especially pertinent when it comes to contentious political issues, such as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, as they provide guidelines as to the lexicon to be used for politically sensitive topics and cover historical, religious, diplomatic and legal issues pertaining to the Middle East conflict. For instance, the BBC’s style guide suggests

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 67

certain terms and phrases to describe politically contentious issues such as settlements, the occupation, or the Temple Mount. Al-Jazeera also specifies the use of certain terms and phrases. For instance, settlements are to be described as colonies and the ‘security fence’ as the ‘wall’ (Barkho 2011). While some scholars argue that these guidelines promote a hegemonic culture within news agencies (Barkho 2011), ethnomethodologists have emphasized the complexities involved in interpreting and applying rules and guidelines in particular settings (Garfinkel 1967; Heritage 1984). Indeed, news agencies’ guidelines are often tempered by interactional contingencies and institutional cultures. For instance, according to a New York Times journalist, what is commonly considered ‘good practice’ matters more than a stylebook: “the sort of principles that we sort of follow are fluid, and they depend on the situation and the kind of material you have, and we don’t really try to set boundaries or rules for ourselves… There’s a visual language at the Times, but there’s no law that governs what that visual language is. It’s just sort of an agreement, I think, among the designers here about what works well and is clear”7. 13 Rule following can therefore be superceded by tacit knowledge, consensually agreed upon good practices, and situated improvisation.

14 At times, external political pressures may also contribute to certain editorial directives being established. For example, various governmental and non-governmental organizations, ranging from Israeli embassies to right-wing Israeli and Christian interest groups, watchdogs, and lobby groups, have a range of tools at their disposal in order to put forth certain ideological positions, influence media coverage, or draw attention to what they deem to be biased news coverage (see also Götz 2008). Consequently, as a result of political pressure from right-wing pro-Israeli lobby groups, CNN headquarters in Atlanta instructed its journalists to stop referring to Gilo as a “Jewish settlement”. The order stated: “We refer to Gilo as ’a Jewish neighborhood on the outskirts of Jerusalem, built on land occupied by Israel in 1967’… We don’t refer to it as a settlement”8. However, such top-down directives do not necessarily dictate practice. Instead, CNN new stories use a range of terms that accommodate, yet deviate from the directive. In a news story in 2011, Gilo was referred to as a “Jewish settlement neighborhood”, a “disputed neighborhood in Jerusalem”, a “contested area of Jerusalem”, and as also potentially categorizable as a “West Bank settlement”9. Therefore, policies, whether they are organizational directives, interventions to stipulate certain politically motivated coverage, or professional guidelines, always become adapted, transformed and amended in practice. Indeed, according to Daniel Perrin: “policies, norms, and practices are not simply postulated and followed or not, they are reconstructed in everyday life and are thereby subject to variation and change” (Perrin 2011: 1874). 15 The production process is thus a ‘situated activity’ (Perrin 2011: 1866) in which social settings intersect with individual, organizational, and political resources and constraints.

16 Whether or not top-down directives are implemented also depends on the staff in charge. Scholars point out, that maps in newspapers are often designed by staff untrained in cartographic principles and thus reflect their ignorance in cartographic projection and conventions (Monmonier 1989). Also a journalist maintained: “in many U.S. organizations, selecting and manipulating (sizing) graphics and maps often falls to badly paid, very young people, just out of school…” (Journalist G 2011). Consequently,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 68

“cartographically unskilled personnel are primarily responsible for poor quality maps in American newspapers” (Gimartin (1985: 7). When combined with Americans’ well- documented tendency to be ‘geographically challenged’ the end product becomes less a politically motivated act, than an expression of ignorance, oversight, and haste in design. When the news broke in 2009 that the right-wing American News Channel Fox has a rather “shaky grasp of Mideast geography”, American democrats rejoiced (see Fig. 1). There is, after all, nothing much better than ‘Schadenfreude’!

Fig. 1.

Fox Channel’s challenge to locate Egypt10.

17 Besides the fact that professional experiences and cartographic skills may impact the choice of maps in newspapers, the need to produce a newsworthy story by a certain deadline can also affect the story, its content, as well as the maps included. As one journalist pointed out: “Well, bloody hell, I’ve only three minutes to do this piece in and I’m going to spend a minute going through the arguments” (Philo and Berry, 2004: 245). Journalists are often told not to do “explainers” (Philo and Berry 2004: 215). After all, news stories are to capture attention with eye-catching headlines, powerful graphics, hot live action, and up-to-date news. Therefore there is generally: “a dearth of indepth, analytic and explanatory material included in news reports” (Philo and Berry, 2004: 244, see also Götz 2008).

18 Also, as every fact concerning the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is disputed, journalists would be hard pressed to provide enough contextual information to explain the complexities of the conflict. Therefore, news services may provide no or minimal contextual information within news stories and journalistic maps. As a result, viewers without specialist knowledge often neither understand the significance of current events nor the rationale for certain political actions (Philo and Berry 2004). Indeed, studies have shown that more than 80% of an audience does neither comprehend the news nor the significance of the lexicon used (such as military occupation or settlements) (Götz 2008). Alternatively, news services may also make sense of the conflict in terms of perpetrators and victims, as “it would… be quite confusing to have two sets of victims” (Ross 2003). In other words, they tend to explain and contextualize the actions and perspectives of only one of the sides in the conflict. 19 There is, however, a well-documented “structural imbalance” (Philo and Berry 2004: 138) between Israel and Palestine, which is reflected in both parties’ ability to

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 69

disseminate news (Barkho 2011: 6). Media scholars have pointed out that: “it is the Israeli explanation… which is most frequently referenced” and it is most often “Israel’s voice that came across through the mouths of the reporters” (Philo and Berry 2004: 150; 246-7). Across many US news outlets, Israeli actions are contextualized more frequently than those of Palestinians. Also Israelis’ views and rationales for actions were more likely to set the news agenda, and Palestinian perspectives were frequently absent and their motives, actions, and concerns reminded often hard to grasp (see also Ross 2003; Zelizer 2002)11. 20 There are various institutional reasons for why the Israeli perspective tends to dominate over the Palestinian perspective in the Western mainstream media. These include: Israel’s sophisticated public relations infrastructure as well as the fact that foreign journalists tend to reside in West Jerusalem where they have easy access to Israeli sources, documents, and maps (see Götz 2008; Zelizer 2002). On the other hand, restrictions on the freedom of movement in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip make access to Palestinian interviewees and source material more challenging, which does not sit well with the need for rolling news (Philo and Berry 2004). Also, due to the often still weak and fractured Palestinian state institutions, Palestinians don’t possess a very developed public relations’ infrastructure and they lack a “clear public relations approach” (Philo and Berry 2004: 246; see also Götz 2008). Indeed, Palestinians are well aware of the need to build up local expertise and improve their public relations approaches: “We are trying to go after putting facts more in our research or in our publications, in our presentations to the world – or how to see the conflict on a factual basis from the Palestinian perspective – because – apparently we have not being doing so good on the international arena when it comes to showing and exhibiting the facts on the ground… the first questions would be ‘where is your sources, what are your facts?… [also] when… they started with the peace process apparently the Palestinian side went to the negotiations with virtually no maps – they were using Israeli maps” (Interview IJ Jan 2011). 21 For instance, it was not until the International Court of Justice declared the “Separation Wall” to be illegal under International Law, that the Palestinian government designated a national committee to map the barrier and to show its impact in a scientific manner. Palestinian stakeholders argue that mapping the barrier is crucial in advocating for a Palestinian perspective on its impact. As a result, various Palestinian mapping units have made concerted efforts to do so. The long absence of such maps, however, and the fact that, to this day, there is no one authoritative mapping institution in Palestine (Abdullah 2001; Scanteam and ARIJ 2009), means that such maps have long not been available and are still hard to come by, including for foreign journalists!

22 Even the Arabic news service Al-Jazzera online uses barrier maps that are produced by the Israeli human rights organization B’tselem. For instance, a 2008 story on the “Separation Barrier” provides an external link to a PDF file entitled “B’Tselems map of Israel’s separation barrier in the West Bank”12, and does not use maps produced by Palestinian governmental or non-governmental organizations such as the Applied Research Institute Jerusalem (ARIJ) or the Palestinian Authorities’ Ministry of Planning and International Cooperation (MOPIC). Diverging and non-standardized cartographic coding systems, the difficulty of one governing institution to enforce its political mandate, and the continuing lack of Palestinians’ sovereignty and control over parts of the West Bank, have negatively impacted the development of Palestinian cartography.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 70

There are therefore various structural impediments to obtaining information from Palestinian sources as well as attaining generally agreed upon Palestinian-produced maps. 23 As we have seen, map-making as news-making unfolds within a complex social, institutional, and political context. An analysis of maps as socially situated practices points to the fact that common assumptions about journalist’s pejorative to chose maps based on political biases disregards the many factors that might impact the choice of maps, such as available technical and economic resources, the need to accommodate to political pressure group, news agencies stylebooks, and governmental positions, as well as pressures to produce a newsworthy story by a deadline. Yet, maps can communicate certain political meanings, and how such political messages may be built into the content, design, and structure of maps is what I what to turn to in the following section.

The Politics of Maps

24 Media studies scholars have pointed out that national presses can become representative of national politics (Barkho 2011; Gamson et al. 1989; Ross 2003; Wolfsfeld et al 2007). For instance, the American press tends to depend on governmental sources, which encourages the media to privilege “the government’s construction of key issues and events” (Ross 2003). Also, the alignment of the mainstream British media, such as the BBC, with the views of the British government is facilitated by the fact that the BBC’s internal guidelines rely on the UK Foreign Office’s view on the conflict. The BBC therefore tends to use language and terms that go “with the British official line” on matters of international law and the territorial status of the territories (Barkho 2011: 8). The alignment of maps used by the BBC with the British Government’s position on the territorial status of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, is reflected in the types of maps used. These maps tend to clearly demarcate the West Bank and the Gaza Strip as separate from Israel in accord with their territorial status under International Law (see Fig. 2). At the same time, there is less consistency in representative practices regarding the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights, which at times appears as either part of Israel or Syria.

Fig. 2.

BBC News map13.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 71

25 While most mainstream British and American news sites use maps that similarly demarcate the West Bank and the Gaza Strip so as to account for their status under international law, it is the maps’ textual and visual framing that lends them their political identity and meaning. As NYT graphic designer, Kevin Quaely maintains, the aim is to not “put [the] map we do in a vacuum” 14. Indeed, the textual and visual signifiers used in a map, alongside the accompanying text, can either provide or eliminate certain contextual information. For instance, in most CNN maps, the West Bank, the Gaza Strip and the Golan Heights are delineated, but often without names or any indication of their disputed territorial status (see Fig. 3).

Fig. 3.

CNN map15.

26 Most of the ‘locator-maps’ in The New York Times delineate the territories similarly, yet without naming them or indicating their legal status (see Fig. 4). Putting maps ‘in a vacuum’ can thus have a political function.

Fig. 4.

New York Times map16.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 72

27 Also in maps from the Chicago Tribune, the West Bank and the Gaza Strip are delineated, yet are nameless (see Fig. 5).

Fig. 5.

Chicago Tribune map17.

28 As these territories are not named, it is unclear whether they are part of Israel or not. While the mapmakers’ concerns may only have been with clarity and visual appeal, the map nevertheless can have a political effect, as it passes “the buck onto the readers”18. Consequently, only people with specialized knowledge will know how to interpret the lines. It is thus the choice of discursive ‘frames’, that are either built into the structure of the map or appear alongside it, that construct and transmit its meanings (Ross 2003; Zelizer 2002).

29 While The Guardian (which tends to be accused of a pro-Palestinian bias) and The New York Times (which tends to be accused of a pro-Israeli bias) may use the same base map (that delineates Israel, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip), the focus of the story and the level of visual and textual detail and context differ (see Fig. 6a, b).

Fig. 6a and b.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 73

The New York Times and The Guardian Mapping the West Bank Barrier19.

30 For instance, when providing a map of the West Bank Barrier, The Guardian uses a detailed interactive map entitled “Mapping the Occupation’, that was designed by the Israeli human rights organization B’Tselem. Already the map’s title acknowledges the territorial status of the West Bank as ‘occupied’ under International Law. The map also traces how the barrier is part of a system of closures and settlements that fragment Palestinian-controlled areas into isolated brown patches. The New York Times, on the other hand, in an interactive video clip about West Bank settlements, only faintly traces the barriers’ route in relation to the Green Line (the internationally recognized temporary boundary between Israel and the West Bank that is based on the 1949 armistice line), and does not show how it relates to other geopolitical realities on the ground. This fosters an interpretation of the barrier as a way to secure Israel, rather than as an integral feature of closures that permeate the West Bank territory.

31 The maps used in The New York Times exemplify how maps do political work that seemingly favors the Israeli, rather than the Palestinian perspective. Their maps also often use geographical maps without inserting editorial comments, and they offer no or minimal visual translation of current events into the maps themselves. In other words, they provide ‘weak visual contextualization’ of information within and alongside the map provided.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 74

Fig. 7a and b.

New York Times maps exemplifying ‘weak visual contextualization’ of information20.

32 For instance, a news item in 2011 on “Challenges in defining an Israeli-Palestinian border” makes available clickable interviews with Palestinians and Israelis on these challenges (see Fig. 7a, b). While the interviewees tell their stories, various images appear next to a ‘locator-map’ of the West Bank that is delineated by the Green Line. Depictions of the West Bank Barrier (also known as the ‘security fence’) come into view, yet the barrier is not integrated into the map itself, but appears as a ‘fence’ to the left- hand side of the map. By only juxtaposing the ‘fence’ and the map, but not superimposing the ‘fence’ onto the map, nor providing any textual clues as to whether the ‘fence’ converges or diverges from the Green Line, a lay audience would be hard pressed to understand how the ‘fence’ relates to the Green Line and establishes certain facts on the ground. Moreover, the appearance of a red street sign indicating entry into the Palestinian-controlled Area A (which are located along the edges of ‘Area A’)21

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 75

besides an abstracted map of the West Bank would be simply mystifying to anyone who hasn’t traveled in the Palestinian Territories!

33 By not sufficiently contextualizing information within the visuals provided, readers can also get the impression that the West Bank is a den of extremists and terrorists and that the whole area is fraught with danger (see Fig. 8 a, b).

Fig. 8a and b.

New York Times: constructing Palestinians through images and maps22.

34 In the same 2011 news item as mentioned above, the stories as told by Palestinian protagonists are juxtaposed with stereotypical images of Palestinians. The images speak to Western orientalist notions of Arabs as violent, zealous, untrustworthy and fundamentally ‘other’ (Said 1979). These sort of images are, no doubt, the reason why when I first returned to upstate New York from a 4 month-stay in Israel, my neighbor

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 76

greeted me with the word: “Nice to see you still alive!” He is an avid New York Times reader!

35 While The New York Times also tends to provide no or minimal contextualization of violent incidents within a map, The Guardian is more likely to produce ‘event-centered maps’ (Zelizer 2002) that integrate occurrences into the maps’ composition (see Fig. 9).

Fig. 9.

The Guardian: Event-centered map23.

36 This sort of visual contextualization facilitates readers’ understanding of the context of action (such as whether a violent event took place in the occupied Palestinian Territories or in Israel proper). The Guardian uses other ways to contextualize information within a map as well. For instance, in a 2011 news item on “Changing map of Israel and the Palestinian Territories”, a clickable series of maps are provided in order to present a historical timeline on the making and remaking of the map of Israel/ Palestine. Hereby, the visuals, alongside the text, contribute to the historical and geographical contextualization of the conflict (Fig. 10).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 77

Fig. 10.

The Guardian’s Interactive Historical Timeline maps24.

37 Like The Guardian, the Arabic news service Al-Jazeera, is also more likely than the American online newspapers investigated here, to contextualize the Palestinian perspective. Unlike mainstream Western news outlets that tend to depict the no-man’s land around Latrun (around the middle of the western rim of the West Bank) as part of Israel, the maps used by Al-Jazeera carefully delimit the no-man’s land as specified under International Law. Al-Jazeera’s maps also often refer to the territories as either ‘Palestinian Territories’ or as ‘West Bank’ and the ‘Gaza Strip’. At the same time, Israel is named, frequently with Hebrew lettering, so as to emphasize its recognition. Al- Jazeera’s maps, unlike maps used in many mainstream American online news sites, are also more likely to show geopolitical realities on the ground, such as the impact of settlements and the ‘Separation Wall’ (see Fig. 11).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 78

Fig. 11.

Al-Jazeera’s map of geopolitics on the ground25.

38 It is thus such strong levels of visual contextualization of geopolitical realities that are likely to provide a more in-depth understanding of the Palestinian perspective. It is also notable that their most frequently used maps consist off satellite images upon which territorial lines are superimposed. The use of satellite images offers a powerful way to attempt to merge geopolitical realities with what is taken to be an objective representation of the physical landscape26.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 79

Fig. 12.

Al-Jazeera satellite map.

39 Moreover, Al-Jazeera, like The Guardian, accounts for the legal status of the Palestinian Territories under international law. In a politically charged environment, international law still remains a powerful rhetorical resource in order to retain credibility and legitimacy.

Summary

40 Journalists are often accused of harboring explicit political biases (Ross 2003). Underlying such accusations is the assumption that they could potentially single- handedly deliver value-free, neutral, and objective news that are not colored by the social context of their production and filtered through a range of institutional layers. However, the study of map-making as ‘situated practice’ reveals how intricately the coverage, content, and terminology of news stories are interwoven with a range of “community-internal and external conditions and practices” (Cotter 2011, 1898). These range from: tight deadlines; the need to ascertain the newsworthiness of a story and its graphics; top-down stipulations concerning the use of certain terminology, phrases, and designs; the space and formatting of a story; local institutional notions of ‘good practice’; as well as technical constraints (Barkho 2011). Besides such internal – structural, professional, and organizational – pressures, there are also wider cultural and political realities, such as the relative effectiveness of various lobby groups; the differential ability of journalists to access Israeli versus Palestinian news sources; and a government’s political stance on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Such a complex ecology may impact news making and map choice in often unforeseen and unpredictable ways (Ross 2003). Therefore, according to Patricia Gilmartin: “satisfying

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 80

one demand may conflict with another or eliminate other alternatives… the final commercial product is the result of the trade-offs made among mutually exclusive goals and the differing sets of values that influence the production of every map” (Gilmartin 1985: 8). The newsroom thus brings together various human and non-human actors, materials, technologies, and resources that provide spaces of practice that provide the material and conceptual tool kit from which news stories and maps are made (see also Swidler 1986; Gamson and Modigliani 1989; Ryan and Gamson 2006).

41 Besides the messiness of practice that can account for often varied and, at times, contradictory mapping practices on online news sites, the choice of certain maps in terms of their focus, content, design and detail, is inevitably selective and can hereby become politically meaningful. Mapping, just like reporting “from no perspective at all” (Zelizer 2002) is untenable. The online newspapers examined here provide some preliminary conclusion as to how maps are chosen for online news stories and how political messages may become embedded within the design of various maps. Arguably, politics can become embedded in online news maps in various ways. Firstly, the depiction of territories in journalistic maps used by the mainstream media tends to be aligned with a national government’s position on the territorial status of Israel- Palestine. Secondly, the demarcation of space and the use of particular textual and visual signifiers can either provide or omit contextual information. For instance, whether mapmakers visually integrate events into a map can profoundly impact the ability of an audience to comprehend and contextualize the information provided; likewise, integrating a historical timeline may also increase contextual understanding. On the other hand, weak visual and textual contextualization will not only hinder an audiences’ ability to understand the news, but can also lead to misconceptions, stereotyping, and misinformation. As we have seen, pairing abstracted maps of the West Bank with commonly held national stereotypes of Palestinians may encourage, maintain, and enforce the process of ‘othering’ of a whole population. Thirdly, a map’s content and detail is informed by its underlying assumptions. In other words, international law, Israel‘s security discourse, or its occupation policies can all inform and shape the content and design of a map in different ways. For instance, while The Guardian tends to contextualize the Palestinian perspective textually and cartographically in terms of international law, The New York Times is more likely to contextualize the Israeli perspective through Israel’s own security discourse. Lastly, the types and sources of maps can become a form of politics. For instance, in a politically- charged environment, the use of satellite images, upon which territorial lines are superimposed, can become a useful rhetorical tool in order to evoke the objectivity of a map. There also continues to be an absence of Palestinian-produced maps in the mainstream news media. This reflects the still persistent infrastructural inequities, which produce an information and credibility gap between Israel and the Palestinians. 42 While newspapers, like The Guardian, can represent the Palestinian perspective through the lens of international law, Palestinians still struggle to disseminate more widely their own definitions and visions of their territories. Palestinian cartographers have, at times, critiqued UN-produced maps for not representing the ‘Separation Wall’ (also known as the ‘West Bank barrier’ or the ‘security fence’) as part of a ‘Segregation Zone’, that is much wider and more extensive than the UN-produced maps suggest (see Fig. 13). Indeed, in some Palestinian-produced maps, the ‘Segregation Zone’ is clearly defined and named. According to an interviewee, “we use the term Segregation Zone

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 81

because it is not only wall, because 250 meters from the Palestinian side no construction is allowed – so it is a zone” (Interview JI 2011).

Fig. 13.

Applied Research Institute Jerusalem (ARIJ)’s map of the Segregation Zone27.

43 The question then becomes, why do Palestinians’ experiences and understandings of the ‘Segregation Zone’ not permeate the international news media like the Israeli governments’ security discourse? Israel’s ability and Palestine’s relative inability to make its voices heard and set the agenda in terms of which issues matter, has to do, not with the failing of individual journalists, but with current structural inequities. Until these inequities can be addressed, Israeli visions will continue to be perceived on their own terms, while for the Palestinians, international law is one of the few available mouthpieces through which their voices can be heard and translated within the international community of newsmakers.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abdullah, S. A. 2001 An Approach Towards The Development of National Geographic Information Strategy in Palestine, dissertation submitted to partial fulfill requirements for the Master of Science degree in

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 82

geographical information sciences, School of Geography, University of Nottingham. The Lower Jordan River Basin Programme Publications.

Alimi, E. Y. 2006 Israeli Politics and the Palestinian Intifada: Political Opprtunities, Framing Processes, and Contencious Politics, London and New York: Routledge.

Anderson, B. 1983 Imagined Communities, London, Verso.

Barkho, L. 2011 “The role of internal guidelines in shaping news narratives: ethnographic insights into the discursive rhetoric of Middle East reporting by the BBC and Al-Jazeera English,” Critical Discourse Studies, vol. 8, n° 4, pp. 1-13.

Batuman, B. 2010 “The Shape of the Nation: Visual production of Nationalism through maps in Turkey,” Political Geography, vol. 29, n° 4, pp. 220-234.

Black, J. 1997 Maps and Politics, Chicago, The University of Chicago Press.

Cotter, C. 2011 “Diversity awareness and the role of language in cultural representations in news stories,” Journal of Pragmatics, vol. 43, n° 7, pp. 1890-1899.

Crampton, J. W. and Krygier, J. 2006 “An Introduction to Critical Cartography,” ACME: An International E-Journal for Critical Geographies, vol. 4, n° 1, pp. 11-33.

Crampton, J. 2009 “Cartography: performative, participatory, political,” Progress in Human Geography, vol. 33, n° 6, pp. 840-848.

Culcasi, K. 2006 “Cartographically Constructing Kurdistan within Geopolitical and Orientalist Discourses,” Political Geography, vol. 25, n° 6, pp. 680-706.

Gamson, W. A. and Modigliani, A. 1989 “Media Discourse and Pubic Opinion on Nuclear Power: A Constructivist Approch,” American Journal of Sociology, n° 1, pp. 1-37.

Gasher, M. 2007 “The View From Here” A news-flow study of the on-line editions of Canada’s national newspapers,” Journalism Studies, vol. 8, n° 2, pp. 299-319.

Garfinkel, H. 1967 Studies in Ethnomethodology, New Jersey, Prentice-Hall.

Gerovitch, S. 2002 From Newspeak to Cyberspeak: A History of Society Cybernetics, Cambridge, Mass, MIT Press.

Gilmartin, P. 1985 “The Design of Journalistic Maps/Purposes, Parameters and Prospects,” Cartographica, vol. 22, n° 4, pp. 1-18.

Götz, U. 2008 “Israel und die palästinensischen Gebiet”, in Oliver Hahn, Julia Lönnendonker and Roland

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 83

Schröder (eds). Deutsche Auslandskorrespondenten: Ein Handbuch, Konstanz, UVK Verlagsgesellschaft mbH, pp. 412-428

Gusterson, H. 1991 “Nuclear War, the Gulf War, and the Disappearing Body,” Journal of Urban and Cultural Studies, vol. 2, n° 1, pp. 28-39.

Harley, J. B. 1991 “Deconstructing the Map”, in Barnes Trevor and James S. Duncan (eds.) Writing Worlds: Discourse, Text and Metaphor in the Representation of Landscape, London, Routledge, pp. 231-247.

Hall, S. (ed.) 1997 Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices, London, Sage.

Heritage, J. 1984 Garfinkel and Ethnomethodology, Cambridge, Polity Press.

Jasanoff, S. 2004 States of Knowledge: The co-production of science and social order. London, Routledge.

Kitchin, R. and Dodge, M. 2007 “Rethinking Maps, Progress in Human Geography, vol. 31, n° 3, pp. 331-344.

Lams, L. 2011 “Newspapers’ narratives based on wire stories: Facsimiles of input,” Journal of Pragmatics, vol. 43, n° 7, pp. 1853-1864.

Leuenberger, C. 2007 “Cultures of Categories: Psychological Diagnoses as Institutional and Political Projects before and after the transition from State Socialism in 1989 in East Germany,” Osiris, Chicago, Chicago University Press, vol. 22, pp. 180-204.

Leuenberger, C. and Schnell, I. 2010 “The Politics of Maps: Constructing National Territories in Israel,” Social Studies of Science, vol. 40, n° 6, pp. 803–842.

Monmonier, M. 1989 Maps with the News: The Development of American Journalistic Cartography, Chicago, University of Chicago Press. 2006 “Cartography: Uncertainty, Interventions, and Dynamic Display,” Progress in Human Geography, vol. 30, n° 3, pp. 373-381.

Perrin, D. 2011 “There are two different stories to tell” – Collaborative text-picture production strategies of TV journalists,” Journal of Pragmatics, vol. 43, pp. 1865-1875.

Philo, G. and Berry, M. 2004 Bad News from Israel, London, Pluto Press.

Pickles, J. 1991 “Texts, Hermeneutics and Propaganda Maps,” in Trevor J. Barnes and James S. Duncan, J. S. (eds.) Writing Worlds: Discourse, text and metaphor in the representation of landscape, London, Routledge, pp. 193-230

Ryan C. and Gamson W .A. 2006 “The Art of Reframing Political Debates,” Contexts, vol. 5, n° 1, pp. 13-18.

Ross, S. D. 2003 “Framing of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict in thirteen months of New York Times

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 84

editorials surrounding the attack of September 11, 2001,” Conflict & Communication Online, vol. 2, n° 2. http://www.cco.regener-online.de

Said, E. 1979 Orientalism, New York, Vintage Books.

Scanteam and Applied Research Institute Jerusalem (ARIJ) 2009 Draft Report: End Review of the Physical Planning and Institution Building (PPIB) Project, Palestinian Territory, commissioned by the Norwegian Representative Office, Scanteam and ARJI, SCANTEAM Project No: 927, Draft Version Oslo, Ramallah and Bethlehem. Bethlehem: ARIJ.

Stallings, R. A. 1990 “Media Discourse and the Social Construction of Risk,” Social Problems, vol. 37, pp. 80-95.

Suchman, L., Blomberg, J., Orr, J. E. and Trigg, R. 1999 “Reconstructing technologies as Social Practice,” American Behavioral Scientist, vol. 433, pp. 392-408.

Swidler, A. 1986 “Culture in Action: Symbols and Strategies”, American Sociological Review, vol. 51, n° 2, pp. 273-286.

Van Leeuwen, T. and Jewitt, C. 2001 Handbook of Visual Analysis, London, Sage.

Warburg, J. P. 2003 “The age of meta-war: the distancing effects of techno-weaponry and a sanitized global media are altering the structural basis of modern warfare” Arena Magazine (April 1st) http:// www.arena.org.au/2003/04/the-age-of-meta-war/ (retrieved 4/30/2010).

Wolfsfeld G., Alimi E. Y, and Kailani W. 2008 “News Media and Peace Building in Asymmetrical Conflicts: The Flow of News between Jordan and Israel,” Political Studies, vol. 56, pp. 374-398.

Wood, D. and Fels, J. 2008 “The Natures of Maps; Cartographic Constructions of the Natural World,” Cartographica, vol. 43, n° 3, pp. 189-202.

Zelizer, B. 2002 “How bias shapes the news: Challenging The New York Times’ status as a newspaper of record on the Middle East,” Journalism, vol. 3, n° 3, pp. 283-308.

NOTES

1. Media Education Foundation, Peace propaganda and the Promised Land: US Media and the Israeli- Palestinian Conflict. Available at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/CNN-Watch/message/2639; Swiss Media Watch. Available at: http://www.swissmediawatch.org/report_tagblatt.asp. 2. For scholarly work on how maps may encourage national sentiments as well as constructions of ‘otherness’ across national boundaries see e.g. Anderson 1983; Batuman 2010; Culcasi 2006. 3. Creating Graphics for Online News, http://mindgatemedia.com/lesson/creating-graphics-for- online-news/ 4. See Kevin Quealy, New York Times Graphics Department, http://www.youtube.com/watch? v=hFpIE8xY_w8. 5. See e.g. “Maps, Maps” 2006 http://english.aljazeera.net/cartoons/ 2006/11/2008525183553214362.html.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 85

6. iStockphoto. Available at: http://www.istockphoto.com/search/text/israel%20map/filetype/ photos/source/basic#149ce931; gettyimages. Available at: http://www.gettyimages.com/Search/ Search.aspx?contractUrl=2&language=en-US&family=creative&p=israel+map&assetType=image. 7. Creating Graphics for Online News. Available at: http://mindgatemedia.com/lesson/creating- graphics-for-online-news/ 8. Rachel Coen 2002 “Euphemisms for Israeli Settlements Confuse Coverage”. Available at: http:// www.fair.org/index.php?page=2645. 9. See CCN World, Shira Medding, “Controversial Israeli construction approved as Obama meets with Peres”, April 05, 2011. Available at: http://articles.cnn.com/2011-04-05/world/ israel.construction_1_east-jerusalem-jerusalem-municipality-arab-neighborhoods? _s=PM:WORLD. 10. Fox News graphics department has shaky grasp of Mideast geography, July 27, 2009 http:// mediamatters.org/mmtv/200907270040. 11. It is important to note that media discourses and predominant interpretative frames change in response to wider social, political, and institutional developments and power politics. For instance, Alimi (2006) points out, that Palestinians’ media strategies were relatively effective during the first Intifada in terms of garnering international support and sympathy for the Palestinian drive towards self-determination. Such international support, however, diminished with ever increasing violence in conjunction with the ability of the Israeli Public Relations infrastructure to re-frame the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as a threat to Israel’s security (see also Wolfsfeld et. al. 2007). 12. “Background: The Separation Barrier” 2008. Available at http://english.aljazeera.net/news/ middleeast/2008/07/200876142132497191.html. 13. BBC News “Israel & the Palestinians, Key Maps”. Available at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/ english/static/in_depth/world/2001/israel_and_palestinians/key_maps/; see also BBC News “Middle East Crisis, Key Maps”, 2006. Available at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/5184828.stm. 14. Kevin Quealy, NYT graphics dept http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFpIE8xY_w8. 15. Edition.cnn.com. Available at: http://edition.cnn.com/WORLD/meast/9807/16/ israel.treason/israel.tel.aviv.jpg; CNN “Hamas admits to fatal Israeli bus bombing” 1996. Available at: http://www.cnn.com/WORLD/9602/israel_explosion/02-25/pm/ 16. See e.g. The New York Times. Available at: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/12/14/world/ middleeast/14israel.html; http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/15/world/middleast/ 15israel.html?_r=1; http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/26/world/middleeast/26israel.html. 17. Chicago Tribune. Available at: http://www.chicagotribune.com/topic/politics/government/ knesset/ORGOV0000053.topic. 18. Kevin Quealy, NYT graphics dept http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFpIE8xY_w8. 19. The Guardian, 2008, “Mapping the Occupation”. Available at: http://www.guardian.co.uk/ world/interactive/2008/sep/11/israelandthepalestinians?INTCMP=SRCH; The New York Times, 2011, “Challenges in defining an Israeli-Palestinian Border, Part 3: The Settlement Issue”. Available at: http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/09/16/world/middleeast/the- settlement-issue.html?ref=middleeast. 20. The New York Times, 2011, “Challenges in defining an Israeli-Palestinian Border, Part 3: The Settlement Issue”. Available at: http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/09/16/world/ middleeast/the-settlement-issue.html?ref=middleeast; The New York Times, 2011, “Challenges in defining an Israeli-Palestinian Border, Part 2: the Battle of the Barrier. Available at: http:// www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/09/14/world/middleeast/the-battle-of-the-barrier.html. 21. In line with the 1993 Oslo Accords the Palestinian Territories have been divided into Area A (under full Palestinian control), Area B (under Palestinian civil control and Israeli military control), and Area C (under full Israeli military control).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 86

22. The New York Times, 2011, “Challenges in defining an Israeli-Palestinian Border, Part 3: The Settlement Issue”. Available at: http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/09/16/world/ middleeast/the-settlement-issue.html?ref=middleeast. 23. The Guardian, “Israel and Palestine, A year of violence”, http://www.guardian.co.uk/wto/ flash/0,6189,382165,00.html. 24. The Guardian, “Changing map of Israel and the Palestinian Territories” 2011. Available at: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/interactive/2011/sep/14/map-israel-palestinian-territories; see also http://www.guardain.co.uk/israel/graphic/0,5543,523588,00.html; http:// www.guardain.co.uk/world/2001/,ay/24/israel2. 25. Al-Jazeera. “The Palestine Papers: The Napkin map Revealed” 2011. Available at: http:// www.aljazeera.com/palestinepapers/2011/01/2011122114239940577.html. 26. Al-Jazeera, “Map: Nato attacks on Libyan cities – Interactive” 2011. Available at: http:// www.aljazeera.com/indepth/interactive/2011/06/2011625448137941.html; Al-Jazeera, “Map: Weekly West Bank Protests” 2011. Available at: http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/interactive/ 2011/07/20117155510250892.html. 27. See the Applied Research Institute Jerusalem (ARIJ) http://www.arij.org/eye-on-palestine/ maps.html.

ABSTRACTS

This paper draws on critical cartography, science studies, cultural studies and the sociology of knowledge in order to analyze the social context of map-making and the content and structure of maps. The focus is on how and why British, American, and Arab online news outlets depict the contested territories of Israel and the Palestinian Territories in often varied and inconsistent ways. Certain online news sources have been accused of political biases concerning the Israeli- Palestinian conflict, which arguably translates into particular maps and map layers being included in news stories. Rather than they are being a direct and pre-determined link between map-choice and politics, however, I argue that map-making can be understood as a form of ‘situated’ practice. In other words, the newsroom brings together various actors, materials, technologies and resources that enable and constrain certain activities. It is therefore local cultures, social and interactional contingencies, and institutional and political circumstances that impact map-making and explain how and why maps may converge with or diverge from politics at any given time and place. At the same time, the choice of certain maps and map layers in terms of their focus, content, design, and detail is inevitably selective and can hereby become politically meaningful. It is thus the various textual and visual signifiers and the contextual information included in a map that can become politics by other means. Moreover, the types and sources of news stories and their maps are also co-determined by power politics, the structural inequities between the state of Israel and a Palestinian state-in-the-making, and their respective ease of access to public relations infrastructures that can reach the public at large.

Cette présentation s’appuie sur la cartographie critique, les science studies, les cultural studies et la sociologie de la connaissance pour analyser le contenu, la structure des cartes et le contexte social de leur réalisation, en se focalisant sur le comment et le pourquoi de la description souvent variée et incohérente de la terre contestée d’Israël et des territoires palestiniens dans les médias en ligne britanniques, américains et arabes. Certains ont été accusés de biais politique dans la

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 87

couverture du conflit, ce qui est censé se traduire dans la façon dont les cartes sont conçues et sont incorporées dans les reportages. Plutôt que d’y voir un lien direct entre un choix de carte et une orientation politique, je soutiens que la production de carte peut être comprise comme une forme de pratique “située”. La salle de rédaction est un lieu où se rassemblent des acteurs, des matériels, des technologies et des ressources qui rendent possibles certaines activités mais aussi leur donnent des limites. Par conséquent, ce sont des contingences culturelles, sociales, interactionnelles, institutionnelles et des circonstances politiques qui affectent la production de cartes et expliquent pourquoi les cartes peuvent converger ou diverger avec des positions politiques à des lieux et des moments donnés. En même temps, le choix de certaines cartes et niveaux de cartes en termes de focalisation, de contenu, de design et de détail, implique une sélection qui peut être politiquement significative. De plus, les types et sources des reportages et des cartes qui les accompagnent sont aussi codéterminés par la politique du pouvoir et les inégalités structurelles entre l’État d’Israël et l’État palestinien en formation, et leur respective facilité d’accès aux infrastructures de relations publiques qui permettent d’atteindre le grand public.

INDEX

Mots-clés: Maps, journalism, online newspapers, Palestine, politics, visual rhetoric, Israël, situated practice

AUTHOR

CHRISTINE LEUENBERGER

Christine Leuenberger is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Science & Technology Studies at Cornell University. She received her PhD in Sociology/Social Sciences in 1995 from the University of Konstanz (Germany) and an MA in Sociology of Contemporary Culture from the University of York (England). She was a Fulbright Scholar in Israel and the Palestinian Territories in 2008 and a Fulbright Specialist at Tel Aviv University in 2011-12. She is a current recipient of an National Science Foundation Scholar’s award to investigate the history and sociology of mapping practices in Israel and the Palestinian Territories. She is also working on the social impact of the West Bank Barrier and on the social history of psychology in the Middle East.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 88

Dynamics of death images in Israeli press

Tal Morse

1 On March 11, 2011, two Palestinians from Awarta invaded the Jewish settlement of Itamar in the West Bank, and killed five members of the Fogel family – three children and their parents – while they were asleep. This attack, which was later named the “Itamar massacre”, was shocking in its brutality. The killing of almost an entire family in their sleep, including the killing of a three-month-old infant, Hadas, outraged the public in Israel. The killing – that took place on a Friday – was the leading story in Sunday’s newspaper1, overpowered the other major story of that day – the earthquake and tsunami in Japan (Shargal 2011a). The butchered bodies of the Fogel family were documented by a local photographer and a public debate on whether to publish these images began (Sofer 2011; Somfalvi 2011; Zitun 2011). The controversy was between those who thought that circulating these images around the world violates the human dignity of the dead and scorns their death and between those who thought that such images can serve as an effective tool for the Israeli Hasbara (Israel’ public diplomacy) against the Palestinians.2 Israel’s Minister of Diplomacy and Diaspora Affairs, Yuli Edelstein, said that “only these ghastly images can show the world what and who the State of Israel has to deal with”, and other officials said that releasing the photos from Itamar “would force the international community to come face to face with the cruelty of Palestinian terrorism” (Magnezi 2011). On the other side of the debate there were people like MK Isaac Herzog who said that “The decision to publish the photos conveys panic and it dishonours the mourning over the dead” (Zitun 2011).3

2 All the news organisations in Israel refused to distribute the images of the dead Fogel family (Tausig 2011), asserting that such images violate the human dignity of the victims and do not follow the code of decency the news organisations all adopt in relation to gory death images (this will be discussed later in more detail). However, Hasbara experts, together with the Minister of Diplomacy and Diaspora Affairs insisted on disseminating the images around the world, and the images were distributed to international news organisation. These organisations refused to publish the images – not because of their gruesomeness, but because the images were digitally blurred by

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 89

the Israeli government before their dissemination. As these organisations do not publish manipulated images, the images were not published (Hasson 2011). The images were eventually distributed via social networks, but not by any established news organisation. 3 The refusal to print the gory images of the slain Fogel family follows a practice of Israeli news organisation to self-censor disturbing images. And yet, a look at the Israeli newspapers in October 2011, seven months after the Itamar massacre, implies that the self-censorship is not always in play. On October 21st, images of the mutilated body of Muammar Gaddafi were the leading images of the newspapers (Oren 2011; Shargal 2011b). These gory images were printed prominently and with no concealment or blurring. The caution and sensitivity in relation to the images of the Fogel family vanished, giving way to explicit images of a mutilated corpse. What, then, makes some death images fit to print when other images are kept away from public display? What are the journalistic and ethical considerations in relation to such images? What can or do the different practices for publishing death images teach us regarding questions of identity and human dignity? These are the questions this paper aims to address. 4 This paper begins with the ways in which western culture deals with death and its representation. The discussion then focuses on the tensions around death images in news reports. Next, the paper explores the dilemmas the Israeli press face when reporting death events – mainly terror attacks that take place in city centres. Findings from a quantitative content analysis are introduced and discussed in order to shed light on the journalistic practices in covering death events and the meaning these practices entail regarding questions of journalism ethics, identity and power relations between Israel and its “others”.

Death and Western culture

5 The occurrence of death breaks the daily routine and activates a series of social and religious rituals to cope with the lost lives. These rituals are symbolic manifestations that reflect society’s prevailing values (Gennep 1960; Huntington and Metcalf 1991; Seale 1998). The symbolic engagement with death encapsulates the beliefs and perceptions society holds in relation to its identity and how it is situated within a broader social order (Seale 1998; Seaton 2005). This includes production and consumption of death representations in order to reaffirm society’s values. The use of death images as an enactment of symbolic power is not new. The spectacle of death has a long history and it is usually embedded with social and political meaning. Images of death and dying have served political purposes throughout history, utilising the thoughts and feelings that the imagery of death evokes. Going back to the Greek tragedies and the Roman games, through Christian images of suffering and along a history of public killing, the spectacle of death has been utilised to reinforce the social order (Seaton 2005; see also Sontag 2003).

6 In contemporary Western culture, most of our engagement with death is mediated (Gorer 1965; Walter, Littlewood, and Pickering 1995). Most of the people die away from home – in hospitals and hospices – but death is still present in our lives as it invades our homes and private sphere through the media from every television screen, computer monitor and newspaper when the media brings stories of wars, murders, illnesses and other calamities. Some of these representations of death are fictional and

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 90

entertaining, like in action movies and police television series (Foltyn 2008); others are depictions of non-fictional events. Usually, the representations of death in news reports are informative, but they also bear political meaning and feed into broader narrative and more fundamental understanding of our lives as social beings (Seaton 2005). As death images speak to our deepest fears, such representations can elicit very strong feelings and fierce emotions, and different political actors are actively involved in managing the circulation of such images – making them available or unavailable – based on potential to support or undermine political causes (Aday 2005; Butler 2009; Griffin 2010; Thompson 2005; Zelizer 2010).

The use of death images in news reports

7 The debate around the circulation of death images after the Itamar massacre resonates with an on-going discussion about the involvement of governments and administrations in utilising death images for political ends. This discussion teaches us that death images can be used as a weapon in a political struggle. However, not all mortal images are the result of governmental involvement that strives to utilise these images to enhance their propaganda goals. Death is a newsworthy subject, and it meets the criteria to become a news story (Hanusch 2010; Harcup and O’Neill 2001; Seaton 2005). As death occurs on a daily basis, most of the time, the media show images displaying dead bodies as part of an on-going routine of reporting on the happening in the world. Differently put, the occurrence is a breakdown of the “order”, but the reports on it are quite ordinary. These reports include stories on wars, terror attacks, car accidents, natural disasters, plane crashes and murders (see table 1). As media consumers, most of our encounter with death images is routine and mundane, and yet, as will be shown later, this encounter is a result of a well-thought practice that manifests prevailing values of identity, dignity and decency.

8 The history of death images in journalism is dated to the first days of photojournalism (Aday 2005; Brothers 1996; Hanusch 2010; Seaton 2005; Sontag 2003; Zelizer 2010). Illustrations of death and suffering were published in newspapers from the very beginning, even before photography was introduced to journalism. Later, when the use of photography became more prevalent, photojournalism gradually developed as a profession until it became a common practice in the 1930s (Brennen and Hardt 1999; Brothers 1996; Zelizer 1995; Zelizer 2006). The use of photography facilitated the journalistic claim for truth, and the photographic account bolstered positioning of journalists as eye-witnesses of the events they reported on. This was the case in the journalists daily practice, and moreover in the case when reporting on major news events like wars (Taylor 1998; Zelizer 2010). In fact, the first major death event that was reported in real time by photojournalists was the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939)4, and this event marked the beginning of printing photographs of dead bodies in the press (Brothers 1996). 9 From the journalistic point of view, the photographic documentation of wars was intended to render the events in an accurate fashion. The production of the photographic image and its quality facilitated the mediation of the events as real and authentic. The photographic images rendered the spectacular happening to the readers in ways that words could not match. It enabled the readers to see for themselves what was going on, and since “seeing is believing” this practice also enhanced the authority

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 91

of the journalists to provide an objective and accurate account of the events (Zelizer 2006; Zelizer 2010). As death stories are newsworthy, and as these stories take place almost every day, the media covers such stories on a daily basis (Hanusch 2010). How the media renders death stories bears cultural and political importance regardless of whether the death story is the result of a political conflict. The mundane, every day encounter with death and death stories is part of a daily media ritual that reinforces the values of society and reaffirms the ties between its members. It is a persisting process of symbolic exchange that establishes the safety zones for the media consumers and cultivates their sense of belonging to a certain community and order (Carey 1989; see also Silverstone 2006). Thus, it is not only the reports on wars and conflicts and other major news events that are important. It is also the everyday, banal reports that facilitate the way we understand the world. 10 Hence, when we examine the mediation of death by news reports, we need to study this text not only as a transmission of information, but also as processes that manifest and maintain the core values of society (see also Hanusch, p. 4). The mediation of death, and in particular the management of its visibility, can teach us something about the identity of a given society and how it perceives itself in light of the events that take place in the world. What, then, can we learn about the Israeli society if we study the ways in which its newspapers depict death? Given the on-going Palestinian-Israeli conflict and the routinisation of terror attacks in Israeli cities, what can we learn about the Palestinian-Israeli conflict if we examine it from the perspective of the representation of death?

The tensions and contestations around images of death

11 If we understand the management of the visibility of death as reflecting social values, then first we need to examine the contesting values in relation to the visibility of death. A public or violent death raises the question, as to what is the right way to mediate it to the greater public. The core question in this regard is whether to present death imagery as is, or to conceal or disguise it in one way or another and so to mitigate the horror. The different answers to this question encompass a tension between conflicting values and contestations amongst different agents.

The public’s right to know

12 A death event is noteworthy and newsworthy and it is within the public’s right to know: The public has the right to know that life is in danger; it is entitled to know if somebody neglected to protect others’ lives; and it is entitled to know the cost of the actions that the government carries out on its behalf. But what is the visual value of a report on death events? According to Azoulay (2008), “the familiar slogan regarding ‘the public’s right to see’ only partially expresses what is at stake and is thus a mistaken and misleading formulation. It is not simply the right to see, but the right to enact photography free of governmental power, and even against it” (Azoulay 2008:105). In other words, photography, as a means of documenting reality, bears the potential for citizens to document governmental wrongs and to act against them. A violent death is a deprivation of life and documenting it is an act of solidarity among fellow citizens.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 92

13 The public’s right to know can also be discussed in terms of witnessing as an ethical stance. Witnessing others in their misfortune brings with it the claim to acknowledge their deprived security and to act upon their suffering. Witnessing the pain of others “requires us (the spectators) to take responsibility for our part in the process, one way or another” (Silverstone 2006: 27). This brings into consideration the question of the public’s right not to know. Can we as spectators turn a blind eye to the catastrophes in the world? Can the media turn away from such events? Is it moral to ignore the suffering of others? Do we need to bear witness to their misfortune? If the reality is devastating, should the media mitigate it? And if so, when and why? 14 Alongside the question of whether or not to report death events is the question of “how?” More specifically, how explicit should the death image be? What are the ethical considerations that need to be taken into account when presenting death images? On the one hand, the public should be well informed of events that take place, no matter how appalling they are. Sometimes the reality is so gruesome that words cannot convey its horror. We need to witness reality in order to be able to comprehend it. Journalism has a duty to bring the reality “out there” into our living rooms and it should do so as well as possible. On the other hand, is there a real value in gruesome images? Do they fulfil the duty of informing the public? Do we need to see the spilled blood? Do we need to witness the mutilated bodies and the body parts? This brings the issue of human dignity into play.

Human dignity and privacy

15 The public’s right to know, to obtain information of reality as is, might be in conflict, thus, with other values like human dignity and respect towards the dead. Presenting images of dead bodies without the consent of the dead5 or their next of kin might be considered a violation of their human dignity. The public presentation of a person’s photograph without the person’s consent might harm his or her privacy (Gross, Katz, and Ruby 1991). Accordingly, some believe that the fact that a violent death occurred in public is an insufficient justification for violating the victim’s human dignity. Newton (2001) argues that “even though photojournalists have the legal right to document the human condition in all its despair… they should use discretion…”(Newton 2000:71), and Wischmann (1987) argues against occasions when ”one has the misfortune to die in public” and his or her “privacy rights evaporate, superseded by that slippery public right to know”. She believes that “everyone should be entitled to the privacy of his or her own death” (p. 68). Azoulay (2008) also agrees that photographing injured or dead civilians might harm their privacy and human dignity, but she argues that revealing renunciation by their government supersedes it.

16 Public discussions that have taken place in many countries have debated the proper perspective of death presentation and how explicit the image should be, trying to balance between the role of the press to report the event (and the public’s right to know) on the one hand, and the respect towards the dead and the public’s emotions regarding the images on the other hand. Guidelines have been written to provide journalists with the tools to perform their tasks as required and to overcome the disputes (Hanusch 2010; Zelizer 2010). These guidelines have yielded norms that govern the representation of death in the West (see also Campbell 2004). What are the norms and regulations in Israel? The rest of the paper addresses that question.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 93

The public debate over death reports in Israel

17 The dispute between journalistic duties and the public interest and the privacy and dignity of the dead, over the proper coverage of death events is enhanced in Israel, due to the dominance of Jewish culture and the relatively high number of violent deaths that occurred in the midst of civilian population. According to Jewish tradition, visual presentation of the dead in public is forbidden, and it is customary to cover and not openly display the body in public (Lamm1969). Such showing is considered as a scorning of human dignity. The second character of death cases in Israel is the relatively high number of violent mass death cases that took place in city centres. Unlike many other western countries that encounter violent mass death events mainly during military campaigns, violent mass death cases in Israel are much more “civic” – they took place not in remote battle fields, but in the middle of towns, in coffee shops and on street corners. As table 1 shows, 23.7% of the photographed death stories in Israeli press between 1987 and 2008 were reports of terror attacks. These scenes are not subject to the scrutiny of military censorship, and therefore the journalists bear the professional and the moral responsibility for the circulation of images from such scenes. They are the gatekeepers. This led the journalists in Israel to adopt self- regulation codes when covering death events (see also Morse 2009).

Table 1

Cause of death Frequency

Terror attack 136 (23.7%)

Murder 115 (20.0%)

War 96 (16.7%)

Car accident 49 (8.5%)

Natural death 30 (5.2%)

Police related death 24 (4.2%)

Disaster 22 (3.8%)

Suicide 18 (3.1%)

Accident 18 (3.1%)

Other 67 (11.7%)

Total 575 (100.0%)

Frequency and percentage of reports accompanied by images of death bodies in Yedioth Aharonoth between December 1987 and December 2008 by cause of death (N=575)

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 94

18 What is, then, the proper way to cover death events? To begin answering this question, let us go back to the mid-1990s and the early 2000s, to the Israeli reality of suicide bombers in the town centres and to the public debate about the proper way to cover such events. The first major suicide bomb took place in 1994 in Dizengoff Street at the centre of Tel Aviv. Twenty two people were killed after a terrorist exploded on a bus near “Dizengoff Centre” shopping mall. The event was covered live on the public national TV station, Channel 1, and also on the then-new commercial Channel 2. Israel’s most popular newspaper, Yedioth Aharonoth (“Latest News”, in Hebrew), issued a second edition at 9:00 A.M., most of it composed of pictures. The images that emerged from the scene were horrific and included bleeding bodies and body parts. Viewers protested against the display of horror photographs on television (Rosenblum 1994) and a public discussion arose.

19 On one side of the debate were journalists, who argued that the media should present reality as is and that by self-censoring the reports the journalist do not fill their duty: “despite the horror… the photogenic politeness undermines the raison d’être of television. The elementary duty of a documentary camera is to bring exactly what happened there” wrote one journalist after a suicide attack in Jerusalem in 1995 (Zandberg 1995). Another journalist wrote a few years later, after another suicide attack in Haifa, that the report should “bring the disaster back into the living rooms. Suicide bombers’ attacks are the current disaster of Israeli society, and the Israeli public must be kept informed. It is the media’s duty to document a disaster as is and not to report a lighter version of the events that is easier to digest” (Alfer 2003). On the other hand, there were voices that argued that explicit coverage causes unnecessary panic amongst the viewers and also violates the human dignity of the victims. “Satisfying the public’s right to know does not mean an endless live report from the scene. Repeatedly airing the ritual of lining the covered corpses against the wall has nothing to do with reporting. Those footages do not add any new information. It is, nonetheless, pornography and dishonouring the victims of the disaster. Even in their death due to a terror attack in the centre of town, people’s privacy and decency should be respected”, argued one scholar with regard to the live coverage of terror attacks by the Israeli television channels (Zertal 1996). Asa Kasher, a prominent Israeli philosopher argued that “it is not within the public’s right to know how this and that looks, when he or she is bleeding” (in Levy-Barzilai 2005: 337). 20 The public discussion on the appropriate manner to cover violent events during the 1990s resulted in some amendments to the Rules of Journalistic Ethics in Israel (Rules of Journalistic Ethics 2008). The ethical guidelines advise journalists to balance the public’s interest to know about the unfolding events with the casualties’ privacy and the feelings of their next of kin. Dr Yuval Karniel, the head of the ethics committee of the Israel Broadcasting Authority, who was a member of Israel Press Council and The Second Authority for Television and Radio’s ethics committees, told me in an interview: “The reality is clear to everybody. When you have a terror attack in the centre of town, of course the facts need to be delivered. But more than that – bringing images of body parts, spilt blood on the street, recognition of people – it is not only violation of privacy and human dignity. That’s pornography” (Karniel 2009). 21 And so, practically, the main guidelines to the coverage of death events were to avoid graphic and gory images, to prefer long shots over close ups, and to not include images that can identify the depicted person. To what extend did the Israeli press adhered

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 95

these guidelines? Did they follow them strictly or selectively? Let us take a look at the findings. But first, let me discuss briefly the methodology in use.

Methodology

22 The following findings are the result of quantitative visual content analysis (Bell 2001). The sample is composed of images that accompanied news stories of death cases. The sampled images are images depicting dead bodies – uncovered, covered or in coffins. The time span for this study is between December 1987 (the outbreak of the first Palestinian intifada) and the end of 2008. This is a time when terror attacks were frequent and took place in civil settings rather than in remote battle fields.

23 Two images were randomly selected for each month from Israel’s most popular newspaper at that time – Yedioth Aharonoth. The images were then coded according to relevant parameters following the discussion above – the display of concealment of the dead body, the closeness and openness of the shot and the identifiability of the deceased. 24 The following tables show the findings from the time after the terror attack near Dizengoff Centre (October 1994) until December 2008. The analysis focuses on the coverage of death events after the public and journalistic discussion on that matter took place. Therefore, the analysis shows how the press in Israel coped with the deadly reality and whether or not the newspapers complied with the regulations they formulated for themselves.

Findings

25 The first guideline to be examined was the display of unmitigated death images. The guidelines in relation to reporting on death events in visual terms advised not to confront the viewers and readers with explicit images of death. This was based on the assumption that such images are the utter indexical representation of death, whereas covered bodies or coffins are mitigated iconic images of death. This is also based on the prevailing norms in Jewish custom not to openly display the dead since the display of such images violates the human dignity of the dead and harms the feelings of the dead’s next of kin.

26 When examining the display of uncovered bodies [table 2], the analysis shows that in the years after the Dizengoff Centre terror attack (October 1994) and the discussion it entailed, 78.1% of the corpse’s images that accompanied death related stories depicted covered corpses, i.e. corpses covered by sheets or shrouds, coffins and corpses that were digitally blurred before being printed. Only 21.9% of the images were images that showed dead bodies with no concealment.

Table 2

Display of the corpse Frequency

Uncovered body 82 (21.9%)

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 96

Covered body 208 (55.5%)

Body in coffin 60 (16.0%)

Digitally blurred body 25 (6.7%)

Total 375 (100.0%)

Frequency and percentage of reports accompanied by images of death bodies in Yedioth Aharonoth between October 1994 and December 2008 by the display of corpses (N=375)

27 The second guideline to be examined was the closeness and openness of the shot, i.e. the space occupied by the corpse in the photographic frame, and more specifically, the space occupied by the face of the dead person in the frame. This photographic technique brings the readers closer to the corpse or keeps them away from it. Needless to say that the closer the frame, the more it encloses details of the corpse and its shape.

28 Table 3 shows that the use of close-ups was scarce. Only 2.4% of the images depicting dead bodies used close-up or medium close shots (images focusing of the upper torso and head). The vast majority of the images – 97.6% – used medium shots (26.1%) or long shots (71.5%). In other words, the guideline advising to prefer long shots over close-ups was followed meticulously.

Table 3

Shot in use Frequency

Close-up/Medium close shot 9 (2.4%)

Medium shot 98 (26.1%)

Long shot 268 (71.5%)

Total 375 (100.0%)

Frequency and percentage of reports accompanied by images of death bodies in Yedioth Aharonoth between October 1994 and December 2008 by shot in use (N=375)

29 The third guideline to be examined was the ability of the readers to identify the dead person in the photograph. Given the sensitivity of such images to the deceased’s next of kin, and given the questions regarding the respect towards the dead that were discussed earlier, this guideline aims to protect the human dignity of the deceased and to respect the feelings of his or her next of kin. Table 4 shows that this guideline was generally followed, as 86.9% of the images were images in which the deceased was not identifiable.

Table 4

Identifiablity Frequency

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 97

The person in the photograph is identifiable 49 (13.1%)

The person in the photograph is not identifiable 326 (86.9%)

Total 375 (100.0%)

Frequency and percentage of reports accompanied by images of death bodies in Yedioth Aharonoth between October 1994 and December 2008 by identifablity (N=375)

30 However, as we could see in the three tables above, the guidelines were not always followed, and there were some occasions when images that were not in line with the guidelines were still published. When and why, then, where these regulations breached? Coming from the ritual approach to communication (Carey 1989), this study presumes that there is a meaning not only to what the press report, but also to how they do so. The hypothesis of this study was that the Israeli media put in play different practices when covering death events, based on the identity of the dead. Therefore, another set of analyses was conducted, this time controlling for the identity of the dead.

31 As table 5 shows, the display of uncovered bodies was more common when the dead were not Israelis. In fact, more than half the images depicting dead Palestinians (56.3%) were images of uncovered corpses. 41.5% of the images depicting dead that are not Israelis and not Palestinians were also images of uncovered corpses. This is compared with only 6.9% of uncovered corpses of dead Israelis.

Table 5

Display of the corpse Israeli Palestinian Other Total

Uncovered body 16 (6.9%) 27 (56.3%) 39 (41.5%) 82 (21.9%)

Covered body 173 (74.2%) 8 (16.7%) 27 (28.7%) 208 (55.5%)

Body in coffin 39 (16.7%) 2 (4.2%) 19 (20.2%) 60 (16.0%)

Digitally blurred body 5 (2.1%) 11 (22.9%) 9 (9.6%) 24 (6.7%)

Total 233 (100.0%) 48 (100.0%) 94 (100.0%) 374 (100.0%)

Chi-Square = 136.329, P < .001.

Display of the corpse by national affliation

32 When examining the openness or closeness of the photographic frame, the analysis reveals that the use of close-ups and medium close shots was almost never in use when the dead were Israelis (0.4%) [Table 6]. However, 10.4% of the images depicting dead Palestinians were of that kind, and 39.6% were medium shots. Only 50% of the cases depicting dead Palestinians were in line with the guideline advising to use long shots (compared with nearly 75% when the dead were non-Palestinians).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 98

Table 6

Shot in use Israeli Palestinian Other Total

Close-up/Medium close shot 1 (0.4%) 5 (10.4%) 3 (3.2%) 9 (2.4%)

Medium shot 59 (25.3%) 19 (39.6%) 20 (21.3%) 98 (26.1%)

Long shot 173 (74.2%) 24 (50.0%) 71 (75.5%) 268 (71.5%)

Total 233 (100.0%) 48 (100.0%) 94 (100.0%) 375 (100.0%)

Chi-Square = 24.66, P < .001.

Shot in use by national affliation

33 Lastly, when examining the ability to identify the dead in the photograph, the analysis shows that dead Israelis were almost never identifiable (98.3%), whereas the dead Palestinians were identifiable in 43.8% of the cases [table 7]. Drawing on the significance of this visual trope and its relation to human dignity and the respect toward the dead, we can find a clear distinction between the ways in which the Israeli press treated Israelis, Palestinians and others.

Table 7

Identifiablity Israeli Palestinian Other Total

The person in the photograph is identifiable 4 (1.7%) 21 (43.8%) 24 (25.5%) 49 (13.1%)

The person in the photograph is not 229 (98.3%) 27 (56.3%) 70 (74.5%) 326 (86.9%) identifiable

233 48 94 375 Total (100.0%) (100.0%) (100.0%) (100.0%)

Chi-Square = 79.064, P < .001.

Shot in use by national affliation

Discussion

34 The findings show that the self-regulation that the Israeli press formulated for covering death events in visual terms were followed in most of the cases. The main principles of protecting the human dignity of the dead and respecting the feelings of their next of kin were generally kept. In most cases, the Israeli press used images depicting dead people in a way that did not violate the dead’s right for privacy, and preferred to use images that conveyed the deadly reality while keeping the report decent and preventing it from turning into a sensational spectacle. Only about 20% of the images accompanying reports of death events showed uncovered corpses; the use of close-ups

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 99

and medium close shots was scarce; and in less than 15% of the cases the dead person was identifiable. This practice balances the public’s right to know and the respect towards the dead.

35 However, as the findings also indicate, the coverage of death events was not uniform, and the identity of the dead played a significant role in the way the Israeli press reported on the event and treated the dead. The principles designed to protect the human dignity of the dead were strictly kept when the dead were Israelis. Yet, when the dead were not Israeli – and more specifically, when they were Palestinians – the common practice was completely different. In these cases, it seems that the discussion regarding the proper way to cover death events was forgotten and the principles for covering such events evaporated.6 Almost 6 out of 10 images of dead Palestinian depicted uncovered bodies; photographs of dead Palestinians were taken from a closer perspective, using long shots only in 50% of the cases (compared with about 75% when the dead were not Palestinians); and in almost half the photographs depicting dead Palestinians the dead were identifiable. 36 The fact that the Israeli press maintain two practices for covering death events is telling in many respects. It shows that death and its imageries are still a prevailing theme in organising societies and reflecting upon questions of identity and solidarity. The two practices discussed here also show how the representation of death establishes hierarchies of lives – some groups are treated in a respectful manner while other groups are introduced in less respectful ways. The human dignity of some is well protected, while the human dignity of others is more easily violated. By managing the visibility of death, the Israeli press uses the representation of death as a mechanism for demarcating the boundaries of respect and decency, and by that demarcating the boundaries of “the human”.

Conclusions

37 The death of a person is a unique event, but the journalistic report of people’s deaths is routine. Wars, terror attacks, car accidents, natural disasters and the death of public figures occur on a daily basis in different places around the globe. Those events are reported by the media because they break the natural order and stability of daily life, and we as a society find it important to deal with and explain these happenings.

38 The cultural approach to communication (Carey 1989), argues that communication is not merely a transmission of information, but also a process of constructing and reaffirming mutual beliefs and dominant social values. Cultural actions are projections of ideals and social norms that compose the basis of our society. The discussion here focused its scrutiny on the journalistic practices related to death events, in order to better understand the role of the media in processing death and its reflection on issues of the value of life, social solidarity and identity. The analysis offered here delineates the different practices that are employed when reporting death events by the Israeli media. 39 The norms that apply to the presentation of death delineate different group memberships, with Israeli media routinely distinguishes “us” (Israelis) from non- Israelis – Palestinians or others. The need to protect the readers from the horror photographs arises only when it comes to Israeli victims. The Israeli media protects the

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 100

human dignity of members of Israeli society, but it tends to violate the human dignity of “others”. Given the on-going conflict between Israel and the Palestinians, the findings show how by employing different visual tropes, the Israeli media construct hierarchies of life and death for the Israelis and the Palestinians – the former are worthy of human dignity and the latter are not. 40 Since the data collection for this study has ended, the Israeli parliament (The Knesset) has amended its Privacy Protection Act (section 2(4A)) (Privacy Protection Act 2011). The amendment aimed to address the norms governing the coverage of death events by the Israeli press. The discussion in the parliament dealt with the same issues that were introduced here earlier. The minutes of the discussions indicate that the Israeli legislators do not trust the press to regulate itself, and therefore advocated the amendment of the act. And yet, as discussion around circulation of the images of the dead Fogel family shows, sometime it is the ministers and legislators that are more eager to publish gory images and the journalist need to restrain them. 41 To conclude, the production and circulation of death images reflect political contestation and cultural values. The Israeli reality forced the journalists to formulate a code of conduct that prefers implicit death images over explicit images. Yet, national identity shapes the ways in which death is covered. Different actors are actively involved in managing the visibility of death, and the emergence of digital means makes it more challenging to control the circulation of death images. In this arena, journalists no longer have the monopoly, as technology develops and legislators interfere.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Aday, S. 2005 “The Real War Will Never Get on Television: An Analysis of Casualty Imagery in American Television Coverage of the Iraq War”. In Philip, M. S., (ed.), Media and conflict in the twenty-first century. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Alfer, R. 2003 “Not a testimony and not an eye witnessing”. Haaretz, June 3: 16.

Azoulay, A. 2008 The Civil Contract of Photography. New York; Cambridge (Mass.): Zone Books.

Bell, P. 2001 “Content Analysis of Visual Images”. In Van Leeuwen, T. and Carey, J., (eds.), Handbook of Visual Analysis, pp. 11-34. London; Thousand Oaks Calif.: SAGE.

Brennen, B. and Hardt, H. (eds.) 1999 Picturing the Past: Media, History, and Photography. Urbana: University of Illinois Press.

Brothers, C. 1996 War and Photography: A Cultural History. London; New York: Routledge.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 101

Butler, J. 2009 Frames of War: When Is Life Grievable? London, Brooklyn, NY: Verso.

Campbell, D. 2004 “Horrific Blindness: Images of Death in Contemporary Media”. Journal for Cultural Research, Vol. 8, No 1, pp. 55-74.

Carey, J. W. 1989 Communication as Culture: Essays on Media and Society. Boston; London: Unwin Hyman.

Foltyn, J. L. 2008 “Dead Famous and Dead Sexy: Popular Culture, Forensics, and the Rise of the Corpse”. Mortality, Vol. 13, No 2, pp. 153-173.

Gennep, A. V. 1960 The Rites of Passage. London: Routledge & K. Paul.

Gorer, G. 1965 Death, Grief, and Mourning in Contemporary Britain. London: Cresset Press.

Griffin, M. 2010 “Media Images of War”. Media, War & Conflict, Vol. 3, No 1, pp. 7-41.

Gross, L., Katz, J. S., and Ruby, J. (eds.) 1991 Image Ethics: The Moral Rights of Subjects in Photographs, Film, and Television. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hanusch, F. 2010 Representing Death in the News: Journalism, Media and Mortality. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Harcup, T., and O’Neill, D. 2001 “What Is News? Galtung and Ruge Revisited”. Journalism Studies, Vol. 2, No 2, pp. 261-280.

Hasson, N. 2011 “Why Did Israel Release Bloody Images of the Family Slain in Itamar?” Haaretz.com, March 15. http://www.haaretz.com/print-edition/features/why-did-israel-release-bloody- images-of-the-family-slain-in-itamar-1.349254, accessed May 13, 2012.

Huntington, R., and Metcalf, P. 1991 Celebrations of Death: The Anthropology of Mortuary Ritual. Cambridge:Cambridge University Press.

Levy-Barzilai, V. 2005 Seventeen conversations with Asa Kasher. Israel: Kineret, Zemorah-Beitan.

Magnezi, A. 2011 “Israel Distributing Itamar Massacre Photos”. Ynet, March 14. http://www.ynetnews.com/ articles/0,7340,L-4041557,00.html, accessed May 13, 2012.

Morse, T. 2009 Regarding the Death of Others: Photographs of dead bodies in Israeli media. MA thesis, University of Haifa. 2013 “Shooting the Dead: Images of Death, Inclusion and Exclusion in the Israeli Press”. In Aaron, M. (ed.), Envisaging Death: Visual Culture and Dying. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 102

Newton, J. H. 2001 The Burden of Visual Truth: The Role of Photojournalism in Mediating Reality. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

Oren, P. 2011 “Newspapers review: Does not shock anybody”. The 7th eye. http://www.the7eye.org.il/ PaperReview/Pages/paper_review_211011_does_not_shock_anybody.aspx?RetUrl=/ PAPERREVIEW/Pages/skirat_itonut_lobby.aspx.

Privacy Protection Act 2011 (Israel)

Rosenblum, I. 1994 “Viewers resented against the display of horror images in television broadcast”. Haaretz, October 20, p. 11.

Rules of Journalistic Ethics 2008 Israel Press Council. http://www.moaza.co.il/BRPortal/br/P102.jsp?arc=27521.

Seale, C. 1998 Constructing Death: the Sociology of Dying and Bereavement. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Seaton, J. 2005 Carnage and the Media: the Making and Breaking of News about Violence. Allen Lane.

Shargal, D. 2011a “The massacre and the tsunami: newspapers review”. http://velvetunderground.co.il. http://velvetunderground.co.il/?p=898. 2011b “The Ruler Gaddafi and the Sister Haddas”. http://velvetunderground.co.il. http:// velvetunderground.co.il/?m=20111021.

Silverstone, R. 2006 Media and Morality: On the Rise of the Mediapolis. Cambridge: Polity Press.

Sofer, R. 2011 “Minister Hopes Images Will Shock World”. Ynet, March 14. http://www.ynetnews.com/ articles/0,7340,L-4042043,00.html, accessed May 13, 2012.

Somfalvi, A. 2011 “Israel Mulling Publication of Shocking Attack Photos”. Ynet, December 3. http:// www.ynetnews.com/articles/0,7340,L-4041202,00.html, accessed May 13, 2012.

Sontag, S. 2003 Regarding the Pain of Others. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Tausig, S. 2011 “Newspapers review: Something in the fundamental assumptions”. The 7th eye. http:// www.the7eye.org.il/PaperReview/Pages/ 140311_Something_in_the_fundamental_assumptions.aspx?RetUrl=/PAPERREVIEW/Pages/ skirat_itonut_lobby.aspx.

Taylor, J. 1998 Body Horror: Photojournalism, Catastrophe, and War. New York: New York University Press.

Thompson, J. B. 2005 “The New Visibility”. Theory, Culture & Society. Vol. 22. No 6, pp. 31-51.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 103

Walter, T, Littlewood, J., and Pickering, M. 1995 “Death in the News: The Public Invigilation of Private Emotion”. Sociology. Vol. 29, No 4, pp. 579-596.

Wischmann, L. 1987 “Dying on the Front Page: Kent State and the Pulitzer Prize”. Journal of Mass Media Ethics. Vol. 2, No 2, pp. 67-74.

Zandberg, E. 1995 “Castrated camera”. Ha-ir, July 28, p. 19.

Zelizer, B. 1995 “Journalism’s ‘Last’ Stand: Wirephoto and the Discourse of Resistance”. Journal of Communication, Vol. 45, No 2, pp. 78-92.

Zelizer, B. 2006 “What’s Untransportable About the Transport of Photographic Images?”. Popular Communication, Vol. 4, No 1, pp. 3-20.

Zelizer, B. 2010 About to Die: How News Images Move the Public. Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press.

Zertal, I. 1996 “Free press shall not be returned”. The 7th eye, February 29. http://www.the7eye.org.il/ dailycolumn/pages/0203.aspx.

Zitun, Y. 2011 “Foreign Bloggers Vow to Report Other Angles”. Ynet, March 14. http:// www.ynetnews.com/articles/0,7340,L-4041848,00.html, accessed May 13, 2012.

NOTES

1. In Israel there is no Saturday edition to the newspapers. 2. This approach is very different form the American approach until 2009 – whereas the Israeli approach is to show the dead and discuss the death toll as part of a self-victimizing discourse, the Americans considered the reports of the death toll in visual terms as jeopardizing the war efforts and its legitimacy. 3. The original statement was in Hebrew, and I made some correction to the quote stated. The article in Hebrew can be found here: http://www.ynet.co.il/articles/0,7340,L-4041874,00.html. 4. The Crimean War was the first photographed war, but the photographs from the battle field were not distributed in the newspapers in real time (Sontag 2003; see also Aday 2005). 5. I leave the discussion of the question whether the dead have rights in the legal sense, for another time. 6. Elsewhere I have showed how the Israeli media construe different regimes of pity – one for Palestinians and another one for Israelis – even when the circumstances of death are similar (Morse 2013).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 104

ABSTRACTS

This paper focuses on the journalistic discourse on the representation of death in news reports and the production of death images by the media. The violent reality of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict forced the Israeli press to self-regulate the circulation of death images in news reports. The paper considers the dilemma of Israeli journalists: how to deal with the conflict between the need to report newsworthy death events without violating the respect towards the dead? Analysis of the journalistic discourse around key death events maps the competing values that this issue brings. In addition, analysis of photographs from 21 years of reporting death events in Israeli newspapers traces the changes in the depiction of death along the years, and delineates the norms regulating Israeli media coverage over time. This paper argues that the norms that apply to the representation of death delineate different group membership, with Israeli media routinely distinguishing “us” (Israelis) from the “Others” (Palestinians and non-Israelis).

Cette présentation analyse le discours journalistique de la représentation de la mort dans les reportages, et la production d’images de mort par les médias. La violente réalité du conflit israélo-palestinien force la presse israélienne à une auto-régulation de la circulation des images de mort. D’où un dilemme du journaliste : comment traiter du conflit, entre le besoin de rapporter des événements de mort ayant valeur journalistique, et celui de respecter le mort ? Analyse d’événements-clef de ce type permet de cartographier les valeurs qui s’affrontent ici. De plus, l’analyse des photographie de morts sur 21 années de reportages dans les journaux israéliens permet de retracer les changements dans la représentation de la mort, et celui des normes qui régulent la couverture médiatique, sur le long terme. La présentation soutient, que les normes appliquées varient selon l’appartenance au groupe, les médias israéliens distinguant de façon routinière le “nous” (Israéliens) des “autres” (Palestiniens et non-Israéliens).

INDEX

Keywords: Israel, Palestine, Conflict, Press Images

AUTHOR

TAL MORSE

Tal Morse is a PhD student at The Department of Media and Communications at The London School of Economics and Political Science. His research interest includes media and culture, including media rituals, visual communication, journalism ethics and media and morality.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 105

Cartooning the conflict

Michel Kichka

Some personal background

1 I have been a cartoonist for the press since 1997. It was when the 2nd Israeli channel started its morning programs this year, competing with the 1st channel. They tried to do something different. They asked me to come in the studio, to do a cartoon, live. We did a pilot. I would say “hello” at the beginning of the show, drew a cartoon during the show, off camera, which I commented upon at the end. I did this for ten years. This is how I got started. At first, we were right in the middle of the Intifada, I drew mostly on the conflict, on Israel. I started diversifying, from time to time. Nobody told me what to do.

2 At some point, I scanned my drawings, added a French caption, and succeeded in selling them to some French media, the weekly Courrier International to start with. It gave me a chance to internationalize my work which was only published in Hebrew until then. I wanted this deeply. For me, as an Israeli citizen with more than one culture, it didn’t feel far fetched to try. 3 After my success with Courrier International, I also translated into English and sent to CWS, they accepted, and I signed a contract. CWS (“Cartoonists and Writers Syndicate”) is one of the two big Cartoon Syndicates in the US. They can be found on the New York Times website, which gives them quite some visibility. I send them everything, and the select what they want. At the end of the year, I receive a check with a reference to all the publications of my cartoons. 4 In 2002 as well, I started collaborating with TV5 Monde, the French francophone channel. To this day, I send them 4 to 5 drawings a week for their weekly current affairs program “Kiosque”. Today they are my main client. 5 Finally, I also put my cartoons on my blog, on Facebook, but with a quality which is not good enough for publication. 6 There is another reason why I started internationalizing my work. In January 2002, after 9/11, the World Economic Forum of Davos, took place in New York, not in Davos,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 106

as a homage to the city of New York. For the first time, they invited cartoonists, including Gado from Kenya, Pat Oliphant, Plantu. They had 9, they wanted 10. Plantu said “I have a friend in Israel”. I was francophone, but I was an Israeli which made it interesting for them. Discovering the work of others, and gaining some confidence, despite the fact that my experience had been local so far, this is what gave me the strength to propose my work, to go to Paris, first to the offices of Courrier International. And it worked! 7 Davos invited cartoonists for 4 years, until 2006, until the affair of the Mahomet cartoons. They got cold feet. They were cartoonists from different countries, from Palestine, from Serbia, from South Africa… 8 TV5 Monde also invited cartoonists for a special edition of “Kiosque” in the summer, instead of foreign correspondents. So it gave us more opportunity to meet as cartoonists, and we became a family of sorts. 9 In 2005, the Jerusalem conference Center Mishkenot Shaananim received a big budget from the Konrad Adenauer Foundation. They proposed me to organize an international conference of cartoonists. I did it – it was a big success. I invited cartoonists from Japan, Singapore, Gado again from Kenya, an anti-Putin cartoonist from Russia… And a few months later, the affair of the Mohamed cartoons erupted. I invited several cartoonists from Arab countries; the only one who came was my colleague from Ramallah, Baha Bouhari. 10 On October 2006, the first conference of “Cartooning for Peace”1 took place at the UN headquarters in New York. I was one of the people who started this association. Our work has also been followed by a Belgium team who is now preparing a documentary which will be broadcast on Arte, the French-German Cultural TV channel, in the autumn this year.

Source: unknown

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 107

11 With all those opportunities, we went on meeting, debating, discussing our work. Cartoonists have a lot to say, although most of the time they are far from the cameras.

12 Regarding my political affiliations: when I started appearing on television, I met some people who would recognize me, or my voice, and they would congratulate me for my work, even mentioning that they didn’t agree with me. Thus in the middle of the second Intifada, when I was dealing with events which were often tragic. For me it was quite an exercise, for example, to condemn a terrorist act, while saying I disagreed with the policy of my government. My temperament, however, is moderate, and deeply. I am not cruel or mean when I caricature a character.

13 When I started exporting my work, I could also feel the differences according to audiences. For TV5, they were cartoons I would send. I had no restrictions, they would just tell me the topics which would be debated live, and I could either use my existing drawings or draw new ones. It is true that I might have done, sometimes, a cartoon which was relatively “pro-Israeli”, compared to a rather “pro-Palestinian” point of view dominant in the French media. Some of those where not picked up by the channel. This is their decision and I respect it.

Cartoons among images

14 Images are the new battlefield, images which circulate through TV, Facebook, the smartphone; it’s a new weapon. We could see it on Tahrir Square. It is because of demonstrators filming with smartphones, that they asked Al-Jazeera to keep on filming, that’s why Al-J was accused of taking sides. Coming back to Tahrir Square, when a female demonstrator was drawn on the ground by policemen, a demonstrator

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 108

filmed, sent the image, and it created an instant icon which circulated globally. In the case of the Tsunami, the icon was the Japanese woman wrapped up in her blanket, surrounded by piles of trash (it parallels the little girl burnt by Napalm in Vietnam).

15 The impact of images is instant, and it can be huge. This explains why the cartoon survives in this context; it is an image which can circulate and be read fast. When we had the first session of “Cartooning for Peace”, in the UN in New York, I remember Kofi Anan saying, “You can stop reading an editorial, you cannot stop seeing a cartoon.” While an editorial, if you disagree, after 15 lines, you stop reading it and you forget it. A strong image will stay a lot longer in the minds. And it’s true of cartoons as well: it makes an imprint in memory.

Cartoonists and photographers

16 Cartoonists and photojournalists are war reporters, although they work on different frontlines. Photojournalists are on the actual frontline, they expose themselves. See the number of them who were killed. Cartoonists sit home, get the pictures, depend on it, and draw. We are luxury journalists, we are no longer, as some years ago, on the frontline. Ronald Searle was in Vietnam. Shmulik Katz was send by Aman (the Intelligence Department) with his sketchbook in 1956. It doesn’t exist anymore.

17 Cartoonists have some time to think. While photographers don’t have time, all the more as now they film with their machines, and it’s almost broadcast quality. Cartoonists have the time to digest, to analyze a bit. The cartoonist today sits in front of his computer, sometimes with radio and TV on. The cartoonist has to imagine a follow- up to the image he gets. He must exaggerate, start from the real and push it in a little more absurd direction. He strikes at news from a different angle.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 109

18 Every year, there is the World Press Photo, an exhibit which goes around the world. It’s interesting to see the different approaches, including from photographs. Let’s say we have 100 photos of Hilary Clinton with Netanyahu at the Knesset. There isn’t much room for maneuver here. In the end, one picture will come out of the thousand which will be taken then. A tough job. We, cartoonists, we must invent, and that makes our job interesting. And just as photographers, we created icons. 19 This morning I received a cartoon from my colleague Jeff Danziger, which shows Crime and Punishment….Shows the difference between the punishment of a regular criminal who will spend a lifetime and prison, and Bashar al-Assad who will get a sauf-conduit to Geneva after massacring a whole people. This, paralleling events which have nothing to do with each other, comparing, and judging, only cartoonists can do. On Assad, everything has been said, 16 months of massacre, so he uses a comparison… Danziger connects two different kinds of events, in order to rejuvenate the statement in his own way.

Three reasons for the decline of the political cartoon

20 The weigh of the cartoon is a lot less than it used to be in the 19th century, before the invention of photography. The first page was a drawing (see La Libre parole de Drumont). Daumier used to make his lithograph, and the size will be the full first page. But it remains lively, despite its going down. For several reasons:

21 First, because of political correctness. Many drawings we could have done 20, 50, 100 years ago, are not accepted by editors today. US cartoonist Daryl Cagle said to me recently: “Editors like jokes, they don’t like opinions”. In France as well: the drawings of Charlie Hebdo can be published only there, same with the Canard Enchaîné. I don’t think

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 110

there is, in the US, a satirical political press of this kind. Art Spiegelman recently left the New Yorker, because he felt he couldn’t express himself there anymore. When he proposed his series “In the Shadow of the Dead Towers” to the New Yorker, the magazine refused, and it was published in a European newspaper: the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. Remember that he blamed Bush’s arrogance. The rare times when the New Yorker proposed a political cover, it provoked the most incredible debates. On Valentine Day, they had a cover by Spiegelman which showed an Ultra-Orthodox kissing a black woman. They received threats, insults, subscription cancellations. The editor first refused, Spiegelman had to insist. Same with a cover of the Obama couple as Muslims burning the US flag in the Oval room. For all that, the New Yorker is an exception. It started around 1923, and the principle that their cover is a drawing has been established since there.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 111

22 In my case, for the drawings I send to my website/agency in the US, I have sometimes to censor myself, or they do it themselves. See those examples. You don’t use the word fuck, nor the fuck sign with the finger. They cut the fingers of Hugo Chavez in my cartoon, when he got himself elected for life, saying “f… you” to his people. The drawing became meaningless.

23 The second reason why the cartoon is declining is that we are going to moving images. I have a colleague who used to make 6 cartoons a week for the website of the Washington Post. Now she makes three small animated pictures. The still image, just like the still photograph, might be declining. We expect our images to be moving. In addition, she uses soundtracks based on actual soundbites by politicians, personalities. 24 Third reason: Some time ago, each newspaper had his cartoonist, on its regular staff, with an office. Now, they resort to agencies, to freelancing. In the US, there are two huge websites (agencies), where they show all the drawings by country and by cartoonist; you can click and buy! So the editors can decide about the images they want to show. They will choose a drawing which won’t irritate their readership. They tend to remove the provoking part, which is the basis of the cartoon. In addition, since 9/11 and the 2006 Mohamed cartoons affairs, there is a debate in the press. Some cartoonists see themselves threatened, if not expelled from their newspapers. Religious fundamentalism, of all kinds, is threatening freedom, in this field in particular. On July 10, 2012, Plantu did a drawing in Le Monde, when there was a debate on the GIUS of Ultra-Orthodox Jews in Israel. He got a letter from Richard Prasquier, the chairman of the CRIF, the Umbrella organization of Jews in France2. There is also a lobby of Catholics on the lookout, who protested, for example, about some drawing on the scandal of pedophiles in the Church. The same Plantu was criticized for this. (Full disclosure: he is a friend, but this has no relation with the claim I make here). At least, we, the cartoonists, have the advantage of being openly subjective, compared to photographers whose technology have claim to objectivity, and yet can be so easily manipulated through Photoshop, as the example of the photographer sacked by Reuters for adding clouds over Beirut during the 2006 Lebanon War.

Analyzing some cartoons. Quotes and icons

25 It’s interesting to see how some themes, icons, reoccur, are re-exploited, how cartoons quote other cartoons, photographs, etc.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 112

Photo Joe Rosenthal, 1954.

Source: Anti Defamation League

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 113

26 Take the case of the American soldiers raising the flag at Iwo Jima. It started as a photograph, it became a sculpture. It’s been countlessly reused, for example in the Israeli Palestinian conflict. Here is a group of Israeli soldiers as Nazis raising a flag over Palestinian corpses. I don’t know the author. In that case it is not only a quote, but also an outrageous comparison between Israeli soldiers and Nazis, which has, unfortunately, a long history already. It is nothing but pure antisemitic hatred.

27 I, personally, used this Iwo Jima Icon when Clint Eastwood directed his movie Letter from Iwo Jima, I transformed the American soldiers into Japanese soldiers, to convey the audacity of the American director dealing with the suffering of Japanese prisoners. 28 This is the famous picture of David Rubinger in 1967, when the Israeli soldiers faced the Western Wall. He got a special authorization for accompanying the troops. Dover Tsahal, the information service of the army, had just asked him to give them a negative as a gift, which Tsahal used without paying the rights. He sued them! Years after. Here is the picture exploited as a cartoon, stressing that the heroes of yesterday now can receive stones – that was at the time of the first Intifada.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 114

29 Look at the following cartoons about Gilad Shalit, based on the contrast between numbers: the numbers of Palestinians prisoners liberated as a “ransom” for Gilad Shalit. They all variations around the same idea, and cannot be expressed in a photography.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 115

30 Here is Mohammed Al Dura, who became an icon. Whatever the interpretation of the picture, it is everywhere. This is a graffiti I found on the net. This is rather a balanced interpretation, through the caption. The Tunisian Republic did a stamp about of it. It’s been used endlessly.

Source: unknown

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 116

31 Sometimes there is a need for a picture when there is none, and cartoonists can step him, as in the case of Ben Laden. Jim Morin, from the Miami Herald, and I, had the same idea of Bin Laden as a monster one head of which only was cut off. This is another drawing, when Ben Laden was killed. In many ways, it could be said to be prophetical.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 117

32 Allusions and quotes are not always understood. For examples, in a recent poll, many young French had no idea what the “Rafle du Vel d’Hiv” was about. It’s important when some people reuse icons of the Holocaust, of the Second World War. Some culture is needed to interpret some images.

Takings sides. The Gaza flotilla

33 Here are a few cartoons of the flotilla. No doubt that the army behaved in an amateurish fashion. Here is Barrigue, a Swiss cartoonist. I like this drawing, it hurts, but there is something right about it. Here is an excellent drawing supporting the flotilla. This is a dark ice flow, representing Israel, which an innocent boat succeeds in breaking. There were few drawings, like this American one, to justify the Israeli action. I followed the works of the commission who decided on the assault, it was done in a nonsensical way. They sent them to a disaster.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 118

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 119

34 This is what I did. The morning of the news, I was in a conference at the Susan Dallal center. I heard the opening conference where Bernard-Henry Lévy spoke of the event, I did a sketch which I finalized later. I wanted to stress the fact that Israel fell in a trap, that they lost the war of images because of the stupidity of Avigdor Lieberman.

35 This is anti-Israeli, with a classic antisemitic reference to the huge Jewish octopus, in this case with a Star of David, grabbing the little boat. The cartoonist is Emad Hajjaj. He also has a website which the name of his main character, “Mahjoob”. Here it does something which is becoming popular: reproduce and modify some icons of the Holocaust, turning the Israelis into Nazis, and the Palestinians into Jews. I think this comparison, in the end, filters into the minds of many readers, without the culture to understand what it is about. 36 Hajjaj draws for a Jordanian newspaper. For years the big American websites refused to publish his cartoons. Then, in order to get some work in the US, he started to change his ways of drawing against Israel. In this drawing, he got back to his old ways. 37 Are they many cartoonists who did the same, and tried to adapt to the US? It’s not easy. For one thing, the Americans are used to a certain way of drawing. Hajjaj has a somehow realistic style. This can be accepted. Most do not fit.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 120

Some antisemitic drawings or cartoonists

38 This is Carlos Latuff from Brazil, who is a good cartoonist, not very subtle. And a well- know antisemite. He is an anti-Globalism, a pro-Palestinian, an anti-Zionist, and an antisemite. It gets a bit mixed up in his drawings, which I think are published mostly on radical websites.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 121

39 This is from Jonathan Zapiro, Jewish south-African, whom is a friend. I was very irritated by this drawing. He paid a high price for his cartoons during the Apartheid period. What is problematic in the drawing you see, it is the comparison between Ariel Sharon and a Nazi officer. Again, the famous comparison. It is entirely inacceptable. In addition, there has been no massacre in Jenin in 2002. 27 Israeli soldiers were killed there.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 122

40 Here are a few more examples. Of drawings which won a prize at the Iranian “International Holocaust Cartoon Competition”. The first prize went to a Moroccan cartoonist, Abdellah Derkaoui, the second to Carlos Latuff. Both resort to the same comparison of Palestine with a concentration camp.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 123

41 A few years later, I was invited to Doha, in Qatar, to the “World Press Freedom Day”, or supposed to be. I did this drawing of my father, who was in Auschwitz, with Ahmadinejad trying to erase, unsuccessfully, his tattooed number.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 124

Criticizing both sides

42 Here is an excellent drawing by the Swiss Chappatte, of the Gazans taken hostage by the Hamas: with the woman holding a board saying “I didn’t vote for Hamas”, on the roof of her house being bombed by Israel.

43 Another excellent drawing, typical of what the cartoonist can do: it is mixing a very popular album Where is Charlie, with current affairs. It incriminates Israel, of course, as we see an Israeli tank crushing people in a dense crowd, while looking for the invisible Hamas, while the “Where is Charlie” (in this crowd) is replaced by “Where is Hamas”. But, in a way, the Hamas as well for hiding in the crowd.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 125

44 Here is a drawing which shows victims on both sides, by my colleague Baha Boukhari from Ramallah. It is not obvious, and courageous for a Palestinian, to show victims on both sides. I think that the fact that he is a member of “Cartoonists for Peace”, may positively affect his point of view.

45 This is a drawing of the best Belgian cartoonist, Pierre Kroll, where you see a Palestinian and an Israeli sharing the land by digging graves together. It says it all.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 126

46 This is Khalil Abu Arafe in 2006, at the time of the fights between Hamas and Fatah. He shows both clans celebrating, at the expense of the Palestinian people. This is a courageous drawing.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 127

NOTES

1. See http://www.cartooningforpeace.org/ 2. See http://www.crif.org/fr/leditorialdupresident/lettre-ouverte-à-plantu/31966

ABSTRACTS

Looking back on his beginnings as a political cartoonist for Israeli TV, Kichka explains how he got the opportunity to internationalize his work and of experiencing different media, editorial lines and audiences. He describes the debates between cartoonists about the necessary subjectivity of their approach, critics the anti-Semitism of some cartoons and talks about the Cartooning for Peace ’s family of which he is a founding member. Considering the role of cartoon among images, Kichka shows that, despite the recent decline of the political cartoon, the cartoonists, like the photographers, create icons.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 128

Revenant sur ses débuts en tant que dessinateur de presse, notamment pour la télévision israélienne, Kichka explique comment il a eu l’opportunité d’internationaliser son travail et de s’ouvrir à différents médias, différentes lignes éditoriales et des publics divers. Il décrit les débats entre dessinateurs de presse à propos de la subjectivité inhérente à leur démarche, critique l’antisémitisme de certains dessins et parle aussi de la famille de Cartooning for Peace, dont il est un membre fondateur. Analysant le rôle des dessins par rapport aux images, Kichka montre qu’en dépit du récent déclin du dessin politique les dessinateurs de presse, à l’instar des photographes, créent de véritables icônes.

INDEX

Keywords: Israel, Palestine, Conflict, Cartoon, Cartooning for Peace

AUTHOR

MICHEL KICHKA

Michel Kichka, born in Belgium in a family of Holocaust survivors, is a political cartoonist and an illustrator for press and children books. Guest cartoonist at the World Economic Forum in Davos, NYC and Jordan, Kichka is a member of “Cartooning for Peace” founded by Plantu and Kofi Annan. He received in 2009 the “Dosh Award” for the best achievement in Israeli Cartoonist. His last book, Second Generation, a graphic novel, was published in 2012 (Dargaud).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 129

The Dynamics of Images in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

Israel: commitments

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 130

The New Historians of Israel and their Political Involvement

Ilan Greilsammer

1 As you know, of course, Zionism is a very original political movement, compared with other national projects of the nineteenth century. The idea, as developed by Hovevei Zion, the “Zion Lovers” in the 1880’s, then by Theodor Herzl in his book Der Judenstadt, and in his presentation at the first Zionist Congress in Basel, aimed at establishing a nation-state for the Jewish People in Palestine (or “Eretz Israel”).

2 But contrary to other national minorities in Europe, what is called “the Jewish People” was, after the Emancipation, extremely heterogeneous, and divided by many cleavages, between religious and non-religious, sefardim and ashkenazim, socialists and anti- socialists, bourgeoisie and workers, etc… It was very far from constituting “one people”, and the founders of the Zionist movement should have had… a lot of imagination when they thought that so many different groups of populations could be united one day into a single nation. 3 The man, the leader, the thinker who, more than any other, considered as his personal task to fuse and mix all these populations in the Land of Israel, was David Ben-Gurion, the head of the Zionist movement and the Jewish Agency, the founder of the Mapai party in 1930, the initiator of the State of Israel in 1948, and his Prime Minister until 1963. 4 Ben Gurion, who arrived in Palestine with the Second Aliya in 1906, witnessed the successive aliyot and understood very well the huge differences between the various immigrants: Russian, socialists, Polish, capitalists, German-speaking in the thirties, Shoah refugees, Jews from Yemen and Iraq, Jews from North Africa in the Fifties. The central idea of Ben-Gurion’s political thought, which we call in Hebrew mamlakhtiut, or Statism, was that there was a tremendous importance in blending all these people into a single nation and making them “Israelis”. But how do you do that? 5 The main idea of Ben-Gurion and the Mapai leadership was to forge this artificial unity by inventing national myths and national symbols, which would be common to all the

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 131

immigrants and, time passing, would give them, and even more their children and grand-children, the impression that they belong to one people, the Israeli nation. 6 By the way, this is not specific to Zionism. Every nation has its political myths. A political myth is a story which is taught and repeated every day, again and again, a story which gradually becomes common sense, and that every citizen shares with the others. It should of course be a positive tale, a tale which makes ordinary men extremely proud to be members of the national collective, and which create tight bonds between the members of the collective. Concerning France, my country of origin, I don’t need to mention the myth of the baptism of Clovis, or the myth of Jeanne d’Arc, or the French Revolution, or in modern times the myth of the Front Populaire in 1936, or the powerful myth of the French Resistance against the Nazis during World War II. To be truly powerful and effective, a political myth has to be based on a certain amount of historical truth. It cannot be totally invented. There is always some reality behind it. Clovis, Jeanne d’Arc, Robespierre, Leon Blum and de Gaulle really existed. But every historical event, to become a political myth, has to be arranged, changed, corrected, distorted in such a way that it will be truly useful. For example, you have to emphasize the humanistic ideals of 1789 and play down the period of Robespierre’s terror, you have to transform the poor and tiny Resistance into a huge movement which encompassed the whole population of France at the call of de Gaulle, etc… Let’s add that the proportions of historical truth and of falsification are, of course, very different in various political myths. 7 From the beginning, Ben-Gurion and other Zionist leaders understood the utmost importance of elaborating nation – building myths. I will give two examples, which are very-well known. The first is Massada. As you maybe know, the story of Massada, the story of these Zealots who leaved besieged Jerusalem and resisted the Romans in their citadel on the top of the Rock on the shore of the Dead Sea, has no place whatsoever in the Jewish religious tradition. It appears only in Yosefus Flavius and was never considered by rabbinic authorities as a “positive” story of heroism, on the contrary the fact that the defenders committed a collective suicide in order not to be taken by the Romans alive, was considered as extremely negative, as every suicide for the Jewish Tradition. But Zionist leaders understood very well the extraordinary potential of this story and transformed it in a myth of Jewish heroism, emphasizing the connection between the bravery of Massada’s defenders and the courage of young Israeli soldiers, who would swear fidelity to the State on a Bible and a rifle on the top of Massada. Another powerful myth was the legend of Trumpeldor who defended the fortified farm of Tel-Hay in Upper Galilee in the Twenties against Arab attackers, and died in a most heroic way, pronouncing four words (in Hebrew) which are known by heart by every pupil in Israel: “Tov lamout bead artsenou”; “It is good to die for our country”. Everyone knows today that the story of Tel-Hay was largely invented and that Trumpeldor never said these words. 8 Massada and Tel Hay are not the only nation-building Israeli myths. There are many others. The secular leaders of Israel picked various stories in the Jewish religious tradition, like the story of the Maccabee revolt against the Greeks (Hanouca), the exodus from Egypt (Pessah), or the story of the Jewish revolt under Mordechai against Aman (Purim) and converted them into national myths of secular modern heroism, just like the Uprising of the Varsaw ghetto in 1943. These stories were taught in schools and youth movements, they appeared again and again in every media, newspapers, books,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 132

radio broadcasts and television programs, they became the core of Zionist and Israeli teachings and beliefs. It should also be noted that the first Minister of Public Education of the State of Israel was a long-time colleague and supporter of Ben-Gurion in the Mapai Party, and himself an important historian at the Hebrew University, Professor Ben-Zion Di Nur, and that he was personally in charge of diffusing this ideologically- oriented mythology. 9 During the first years of the State, and even until the Fifties and the Sixties, at the time of Mapai’s supremacy, no one even dared putting into question what was considered as absolute historical truth and as the basic Zionist credo. 10 But from 1948 on, appeared a new myth, a fundamental political myth which occupied a central place within the Israeli political culture: the glorious story of the War of Independence, 1948-1949. The Israeli victory in this war, a victory of a very small armed force against a coalition of all Arab armies, a victory which permitted the State of Israel to survive, was in fact extraordinary brilliant. It reinforced the unity of the nation, gave Tsahal a tremendous place in the hearts of the citizens, offered a great number of national symbols and memories, but… it included also a lot of – let’s say – “problematic” aspects. Mainly the fact that during that war, from the end of 1947 to 1949, hundreds of thousands of Palestinian Arabs which lived for many years in this country abandoned their homes, flew away or were flown away, never came back, and became refugees in the Arab countries and elsewhere, an exodus which the Arabs call the Nakba, the disaster. In other words, everyone understands that the State of Israel was built on the ruins of the Arab presence in Palestine, and that the Jewish State exists precisely thanks to the Palestinian tragedy, something which was probably unavoidable, but would appear to many people in the world as unjust, illegitimate, and immoral. Moreover, it was very well-known that there had been cases of atrocities during the war, such as the famous case of Deir Yassin in the outskirts of Jerusalem, where a commando of the Irgoun Tsvai Leumi killed a great number of unarmed civilians. This moral problem appeared very early in the Israeli literature, as in the famous novel of Sameh’ Izhar “Hirbet Izee” or later on in “Facing the Forests” of Abraham Yehoshua. 11 The Israeli leadership, the government, the Knesset, Tsahal, the universities, the education system had to find a satisfactory explanation for this tragedy, an explanation which would preserve the purity of the Zionist dream, the cleanliness of the war and of the newborn Jewish State. So a central theory appeared immediately, during the war itself, and it became something like an axiom in the following years. The theory had to establish without any doubt that we, Israelis, had no responsibility whatsoever in the Palestinian disaster. According to this narrative, Arab leaders had repeatedly called in their radio broadcasts the Arab inhabitants of Palestine to quit their homes and take shelter on the other side of the border, in the Arab countries, because very soon the Arab armies would enter into Palestine, kill all the Jews in a terrible bloodshed and throw their bodies to the sea. After victory, and the destruction of the Jewish presence in Palestine, they could quietly return to their homes, and continue their happy life in a country without Zionism and without the Jews. Supporting this call with enthusiasm, the Palestinian Arabs left their homes and flew away, thinking they would come back a few weeks later. Of course, unfortunately for them, the Jewish forces succeeded, the Arabs were completely defeated and the refugees would never come back. 12 Such a canonic narrative put the total responsibility of the Nakba on the Arabs themselves and on the Palestinians, and justified, in the eyes of most Israelis, the

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 133

constant refusal of every Israeli government to take any blame for this tragedy, and the decision to refuse to take back even a limited number of the refugees. This theory was of course reinforced by the arrival in Israel of hundreds of thousands of Jewish immigrants from the Arab countries, where they had to abandon their homes and all their belongings, and some equivalence was made in Israeli minds between their exile and suffering, and the exile and suffering of the Palestinians: if there was suffering on both sides, it was OK. 13 This narrative was not only accepted as accurate during forty years, taught by teachers in the school system and diffused by every youth movement and every media, but in fact no one dared to put it into question. It became something like a “sacred tale” which guaranteed the purity and legitimacy of the State. 14 Suddenly, some years after the beginning of the first Lebanon war launched by Begin and Sharon, and the tragedy of Sabra and Shatila, a deep moral trauma for the Israelis, in the second half of the 1980’s appeared this extraordinary phenomenon, which is called “The New Historians of Israel”. Why? I think there were many reasons. 15 The first and main reason for this phenomenon was the Yom Kippur War in 1973, which began as a disaster for Tsahal and for the whole country, and put the State of Israel at risk of destruction. In the aftermath of the war, the Israeli population was in a state of total shock and of extreme anger. It discovered that the whole leadership of the country had lied when it affirmed that Tsahal was ready to face any attack and that, anyway, the Arab countries would never dare to attack Israel. Such a terrible anger and deception led, a few years later, to the fall of the Labor Party and the victory of the Likud. But above all, the Israeli public began to change his mind and to ask questions concerning all kinds of heroic stories of the past which were considered as sacred and untouchable. Because, if the leadership had lied concerning this war, it could have lied concerning other fundamental truths commonly accepted until then. So a lot of people said: let’s check our history. 16 Secondly, the prestige of the army was badly hurt by the 1973 surprise attack and even if at the end Israel did win, the generals, and the officers in general lost very much of their standing and reputation. Again, in 1982, the Begin-Sharon War in Lebanon did not appear as a tremendous military success. Tsahal was no more sacred, so looking at the behavior of Tsahal during the War of Independence was no more a taboo. “After all, if this bunch of generals has been so incompetent in the Yom Kippur War and in the Lebanon war, let’s have a look at what the Israeli army did in 1948!” 17 A third element was the gradual opening of new sources of information concerning the War of Independence. After 1948, the Israeli leadership had carefully decided to close the archives for many years, under the pretext of “Security of the State”. But slowly slowly, every year, new archives were open and access was, even if reluctantly, given to young Israeli researchers. In England, but also in France and the US, archives which had not been seriously scrutinized attracted Israeli researchers who began to explore them very thoroughly. 18 I would add the fact that Israel, at the end of the eighties, was already a forty years old State, not a new country of the Third World. It was no more in real danger, it had the strongest army in the Middle East, a strong police, a strong economy, so… the well- known Israeli warning: “Be careful, caution, we are weak, we are in a state of danger,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 134

the Arabs want to kill us, so be quiet, don’t publish thinks which could harm the security of the State, etc…” such a warning began to be obsolete and irrelevant. 19 Finally, in our five Israeli universities, Jerusalem, Tel-Aviv, Beersheba, Haifa and Bar- Ilan, appeared a new generation of first-rate young social scientists, historians, anthropologists, economists, etc., which took their professional work very seriously and decided not to surrender to any ideological constraints, from the right as from the left. 20 The first, and most famous of these “New historians”, as he called himself, was Benny Morris. Morris was born in Kibbutz Ein HaHoresh, the son of immigrants from England. His father, Ya’akov Morris, was an Israeli diplomat. His parents left the kibbutz and moved to Jerusalem when Morris was a child. He was raised bilingually. He served in Tsahal as a paratrooper during the Six Days War, was wounded in 1969 by an Egyptian shell at the Suez Canal, and was released from the army four months later. He completed his studies in history at the Hebrew University and received a doctorate in Anglo-German relations from the University of Cambridge. After graduation, he returned to Jerusalem and worked as a correspondent for the Jerusalem Post for twelve years. In 1982, he was a field reporter during the Lebanon War, and also served as a reservist, taking part in the siege of Beirut in a mortar unit. In 1988, when he was called up for reserve duty during the first Intifada, he refused and spent three weeks in jail. 21 It was while working at the Jerusalem Post in the eighties that he began reading through Israeli government archives, at first looking at the history of the Palmach, the elite unit of the Hagana, then turning his attention to the origins of the Palestinian refugee problem. He found evidence that there had been a lot of expulsions and atrocities committed by Jewish soldiers, which he made public in 1988 in a major book: The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, 1947-1949. In this book, Morris argues that the 700,000 Palestinians who fled their homes left mostly due to Israeli military attacks, fear of impending attacks, and expulsions. He says that there was no “centralized expulsion policy” as such, no general plan of transfer, but that expulsions were ordered ad hoc by the Israeli high command as needed. At the same time, Benny Morris documents many atrocities committed by Israeli soldiers, including cases of rape and torture. Morris describes, in chilling detail, massacres that included the arbitrary killing of hundreds of innocents and orderly executions carried out against a wall or next to a well. The book also draws a map of 228 “empty” Palestinian villages, and attempts to explain, in each case, why the Arab villagers left. In some cases the inhabitants were expelled by the IDF; in others, residents fled because they learned of attacks on other villages; and in a few others, they left under instructions of the mukhtars, the local Arab authorities. 22 Six years later, in 1994, Benny Morris published a new book, as important as the first one: 1948 and After: Israel and the Palestinians, a collection of essays on the Palestinian exodus of 1948 and subsequent events. It analyses Mapai and Mapam policies during the exodus, the IDF report of July 1948 on its causes, and some new cases of expulsions that occurred in the fifties. 23 Although Morris dismisses again and again the Arab claim that the Palestinians were systematically expelled due to orders of the Israeli leadership, he nevertheless quotes an IDF Intelligence Report that concludes that 70% of the exodus was caused by Israeli forces and Jewish militias. Totally destroying the official Zionist narrative, Morris states that “the IDF reports makes no mention of any blanket order issued over Arab radio stations or through other means, to the Palestinians to evacuate their homes and

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 135

villages”. He proves what had been argued elsewhere, notably by Oxford professor Avi Shlaim, another Israeli new historian, that the myth of the Arab commanders calling Palestinians to flee is unsustainable and without any substance. 24 As soon as their first books were published, Morris, Shlaim and the other New Historians were harshly criticized by Israeli right and Zionist left intellectuals, accused of being anti-Semites and “Arab lovers”, and were even compared to Holocaust deniers. A huge historical and intellectual controversy developed for months and even for years, a tremendous amount of articles were published in all main Israeli newspapers, supporting or attacking the New Historians. Notwithstanding the very high esteem he earned in academic circles out of Israel, Benny Morris was fired by the Jerusalem Post and was unable, at that time, to get an academic appointment in any Israeli university. In 1996, he told a journalist that he was thinking of moving to America to find some work. Only years later, he was appointed a professor in Middle East History at Ben- Gurion University of the Negev. 25 In the eyes of most Israelis, somebody who documents Jewish atrocities in the War of Independence or any other Israeli-Arab War, is necessarily an “anti-Zionist” or worse, a “post-Zionist”, an enemy of himself, of his people and of his own country. The harshest critics of Morris, like the important writer Aharon Megged, alleged that Morris’s first book betrayed his deep pro-Arab sympathies, and they said that his scholar work was totally biased because of his “political commitment” against Israel. In the Arab world, even if most intellectuals criticized Morris’ book for failing to find evidence of a centralized Zionist plot to evict the Palestinians, they congratulated him for having revealed Jewish atrocities, and they looked at him in a very positive way, as a friend, as an ally. 26 At that point, it seemed that the phenomenon of the New Historians was linked to their “leftist” political commitment. Because, as their research destroys the founding myths which gave Israel its legitimacy, such as the heroism and moral purity of the Jewish soldiers, it seemed that every New Historian was identified with leftist positions and was critical of Tsahal, of Israel and of Zionism. Of course, the presence of self-declared anti-Zionists like Professor Ilan Pappe from Haifa University among the New Historians, reinforced this popular conviction. Pappe himself directed a very controversial PhD at Haifa University, establishing many cases of atrocities committed by the Alexandroni unit of the Hagana, and after having called for an embargo on Israeli universities, he left Haifa University and Israel. 27 But very soon, this consideration of the New Historians as a group of leftists appeared as untrue. First, there have been rightist New Historians, for example Professor Uri Milstein, who criticized in a very destructive way Mapai’s military narrative of the War of Independence. Milstein, who had published in 1973 a military history of the early days of Israeli statehood, In Blood And Fire Yehuda, published in 1989 the first volume of an important series on the War of Independence, in which he criticized flawed functioning of Palmach and Hagana commanders, who were until then considered as heroes. He then published Crisis and Its Conclusion, a research which criticized the functioning of the IDF in the Yom Kippur War, and later on The Rabin File: How the Myth Was Inflated, a very negative analysis of Yitzhak Rabin as a commander of the Palmach. Finally, in The Blood Libel of Deir Yassin – The Black Book, he claims that the Deir Yassin massacre was a myth invented by the Israeli left to prevent the Irgun from forming an independent unit inside Tsahal and keep Menahem Begin out of the first national unity

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 136

government. Another example of “New History” coming from the right was the criticism of the official narrative of the uprising of the Warsaw ghetto in 1943, a major Israeli myth of heroism, because this narrative presented the revolt as having been entirely done by the Zionist-socialists of the ghetto, without any help of rightist ideological groups. As historians linked with the Israeli right pointed out, besides the Zionist-socialists like Mordehay Anielewicz and his friends there were many revisionist pro-Jabotinsky nationalists in the leadership of the revolt, as well as religious or even ultra-orthodox fighters. So, criticism of the official narrative promoted by the establishment was not, and is not necessarily reserved to leftist historians. 28 Then came a huge surprise. The foremost new historian Benny Morris answered his critics that they had completely failed to understand his book on the Palestinian exodus. They assumed that, when a serious and dedicated historian describes Jewish actions in 1948 as acts of violence, he necessarily condemns them and supports the Palestinian cause. In fact, he said, not only he never condemned these actions, but from his own Zionist point of view, he supports them – in the context of 1948. This support, he repeats, did not stop him and should not stop any serious scholar from wanting to describe these atrocities. He said he only did his job as a professional historian. 29 Benny Morris’ political views hardened in 2000, after Arafat’s rejection of Barak’s proposals at Camp David and the beginning of the second Intifada. Later on he confessed: “My turning point began after 2000. I wasn’t a great optimist even before that. True, I always voted Labor or Meretz or the Israeli left and in 1988 I refused to serve in the territories and was jailed for it, but I always doubted the intentions of the Palestinians. The events of Camp David and what followed in their wake turned the doubt into certainty. When the Palestinians rejected the proposal of [Prime Minister Ehud] Barak in July 2000 and the Clinton proposals in December 2000, I understood that they are unwilling to accept the two-state solution. They want it all: Lod and Acre and Jaffa…” 30 Morris still described himself as left-wing because of his support for the two-state solution, but he said, “I don’t see the suicide bombings as isolated acts. They express the deep will of the Palestinian people. That is what the majority of the Palestinians want.” And in an interview that totally upset and threw into confusion his former admirers, he said that Israel was justified in uprooting the Palestinian “fifth column”, once the Arabs had attacked the infant state, and that the number executed or massacred – some 800, was “peanuts” compared with the massacres in Bosnia in the 1990s. He even added: “The Israeli Arabs are a time bomb. Their slide into complete Palestinization has made them an emissary of the enemy that is among us. They are a potential fifth column. In both demographic and security terms they are liable to undermine the state. So that if Israel again finds itself in a situation of existential threat, as in 1948, it may be forced to act as it did then. If we are attacked by Egypt (after an Islamist revolution in Cairo) and by Syria, and chemical and biological missiles slam into our cities, and at the same time Israeli Palestinians attack us from behind, I can see an expulsion situation. It could happen. If the threat to Israel is existential, expulsion will be justified...” And when a puzzled Haaretz interviewer called the 1948 Palestinian exodus “ethnic cleansing”, Morris responded that “there are circumstances in history that justify ethnic cleansing. I know that this term is completely negative in the discourse of the 21st century, but when the choice is between ethnic cleansing and genocide – the annihilation of your people – I prefer ethnic cleansing.” Morris’

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 137

comments concerning the Palestinian expulsions in 1948 have also proved controversial in an interview with the Israeli newspaper Haaretz in 2004 when he said: 31 “If Ben Gurion was already engaged in the expulsion, maybe he should have done a completed job. I know that this stuns the Arabs and the liberals and the politically- correct types. But my feeling is that this place would be quieter and know less suffering if the matter had been resolved once and for all. It may yet turn out this was his fatal mistake. If he had carried out a full expulsion – rather than a partial expulsion – he would have stabilized the state of Israel for generations.” 32 Let’s say that for us, Israeli historians and intellectuals, Professor Benny Morris remains an enigma. 33 In conclusion, I would like to ask: what has been the real place of this phenomenon, the “New Historians”, in contemporary Israeli society? I wonder if their extraordinary scholar work of rethinking the past and of destroying Zionist political myths has had consequences in the Israeli public sphere. 34 Today, I firmly believe that Benny Morris’s work, and New Historians books in general, have had a serious impact on Israeli political thinking. Before these publications, most Israelis were absolutely not ready to acknowledge any responsibility for the 1948 Palestinian tragedy and for the Palestinian problem. After the publication of these books, a lot of people in my country began to understand that we do have a responsibility because we did destroyed the Arab civilization which existed in Palestine, and because our soldiers did commit expulsions and atrocities. Of course, most of us continue to believe that this tragedy was probably unavoidable, because the Arab world, and all the Palestinians, totally and absolutely refused any idea of dividing Palestine, and because, if they had remained in their villages and in their homes, no Jewish state could have been established. But I do believe that the New Historians really contributed to promoting and strengthening the idea of the two-state solution. Four years only after the publication of Morris’ fundamental work, Yitzhak Rabin and Shimon Peres came to power, and in 1993 the Oslo agreements were signed, which potentially included the birth of a Palestinian state alongside Israel, with an emerging support of Israeli public opinion. 35 I always wondered if Rousseau’s Contrat Social truly influenced Robespierre and the leaders of French Revolution, but the New Historians of Israel are really a case in which academic and intellectual writings influenced, even if slightly, the way of thinking in my country.

ABSTRACTS

At the end of the 1980’s, appeared in Israel a remarkable and fascinating intellectual phenomenon: the “New Historians”. Young social scientists, working in the fields of history, sociology, anthropology and economics, began to put into question fundamental ideas which, until then, had been considered by the Israeli society as perfect “truth”. In particular, these young and brilliant academics undertook to review various chapters of contemporary Israeli

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 138

history, in order to check if these events were true or were “political myths” created by the Zionist establishment to support the national aim. The main debate was initiated by Benny Morris and dealt with the exodus of the Palestinian Arab population during the War of Independence (1948-49). The book written by Morris and published in 1988 was the first revolutionary event in this national controversy. The questions raised by the “New Historians” provoked a major intellectual debate in Israeli media. These young academics were harshly criticized, or enthusiastically supported. The aim of my paper is to try to explain the importance of this controversy in the context of the Israeli society, in the wake of my book: La Nouvelle histoire d’Israël : essai sur une identité nationale (Gallimard).

À la fin des années 80, un phénomène remarquable et fascinant apparaît en Israël : celui des “nouveaux historiens”. De jeunes scientifiques, travaillant dans les domaines de l’histoire, de la sociologie, de l’anthropologie et de l’économie, remettent en question des idées fondamentales qui, jusque-là, étaient considérées par la société israélienne comme l’unique “vérité”. Ces jeunes et brillants universitaires ont entrepris d’examiner différents chapitres de l’histoire contemporaine israélienne, afin de vérifier si ces événements étaient réels ou bien des “mythes politiques” créés par l’establishment sioniste dans le but de soutenir l’objectif national. Le principal débat a été lancé par Benny Morris qui traitait de l’exode de la population arabe palestinienne pendant la guerre d’Indépendance (1948-49). Le livre de Morris publié en 1988 est le premier événement révolutionnaire dans cette controverse nationale. Les questions soulevées par les “nouveaux historiens” ont provoqué de grands débats intellectuels dans les médias israéliens. Ces jeunes universitaires ont été sévèrement critiqués, ou soutenus avec enthousiasme. Le but de mon article est de tenter d’expliquer l’importance de cette controverse dans le contexte de la société israélienne, à la suite de mon livre: La Nouvelle histoire d’Israël : essai sur une identité nationale (Gallimard).

INDEX

Keywords: Israel, Political Involvement, New Historians

AUTHOR

ILAN GREILSAMMER

Ilan (Alain) Greilsammer was born in Paris and settled in Israel in 1972. Author of twelve books and numerous articles on Israeli politics, France and Jewish politics, he is Professor of Political Science at Bar-Ilan University.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 139

Is there a right-wing alternative to the left-wing Bohemianism in Israel?

Cyril Aslanov

1 Once upon a time, the split between general and revisionist Zionism was not necessarily formulated as an opposition between Left and Right. For many members of the Yishuv, general Zionism with its socialist-inspired ideology constituted a mainstream or even a default choice affiliation. An echo of this reluctance from party sectarianism is found in S. Y. Agnon’s novel Only Yesterday (Tmol Shilshom) where Itzhak Kummer, the hero and narrative double of the writer, is described as refusing to play the game of party affiliation after his arrival in Ottoman Palestine.1 At the time Agnon wrote those lines and in the immediately following decades (1945-1967), nationalism and Left were strongly linked together in the politic life of the Yishuv and the State of Israel to the extent that even such a formations like Ha-poel Ha-mizrai and its continuation the National Religious Party were considered part of the Center-left or the Center, certainly not of the Right.

2 Nowadays, the situation is very different due to the strong polarization between the heirs of revisionist Zionism and the Labor Party continuators of general Zionism. Although this polarization was recently moderated by the attempt to create centrist parties (Kadima and Independence), it is obvious that Amos Oz, Abraham B. Yehoshua and David Grossman, the most illustrious representatives of Israeli literary Bohemianism, and may be Israeli literary Bohemianism as a whole, are clearly affiliated to the Left and the Peace Camp.2 3 I would like to check whether this association between modern Israeli literary Bohemianism and the Left suffers some exceptions in the local Parnassus. To be sure, some authors more associated with the Right seem to have broken the monopole of left-wing literary Bohemianism. However, right-wing Bohemianism would probably sound as an oxymoron since Bohemians are usually associated with leftist ideals, in Israel and elsewhere.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 140

4 Sometimes, Israeli writers did not belong to the Left only because they considered themselves above the parties like Agnon’s aforementioned hero. Some other times, their non-affiliation to the Left is due to a deep involvement in right-wing formations. One thinks for instance of the figure of Moshe Shamir who was well known for his itinerary from the Ha-shomer Ha-tza‘ir to Teiya, Geulah Cohen’s extreme right party. Whatever the definition of Israeli Right might be (and it is certainly different from European Rights), the question that will bother us here is not the positive affiliation of those writers to political formations different from the Labor Party mainstream or the leftist camp. We will rather focus on the question to which extent the indifference or the hostility toward the Left was able to affect the reception of those authors in Israel. In other words, does the identification with the Left constitute a default choice option as a result of which any non-affiliated writer or any writer expressing alternative opinions is stigmatized as a literary nobody? We will try to answer this question and to understand what are the historical reasons that could explain the ostracism frequently underwent by non-leftist writers in Israel. And what are the repercussions of their rejection at home on their reception abroad?

Left as a default choice, Right as a marked term

5 If we consider the pertaining to general Zionism or to the Israeli Left a default choice, then every manifestation of an alternative political identity like revisionist Zionism or right-wing Israeli nationalism is doomed to be perceived as a marked term, full of heavy connotations that may harm the reception of a non-leftist author. The illustrious precedent of Vladimir Jabotinsky who was equally famous for his revisionist activism and literary creation may have paved the way for a tradition of right-wing inspired literary dandyism that was continued by such a poet like Uri Zvi Grinberg who shared with Jabotinsky the particularity of being a Yiddish writer alongside his literary activity in Hebrew.

6 However, it is not sure that other writers managed to join this prestigious club of right- wing authors. In spite of their declared nationalism such prominent authors as Agnon or Nathan Alterman did not belong to the revisionist camp and their patriotic feelings remained within the range of general Zionism and even socialist Zionism as far as Alterman was concerned (until his 1967 adhesion to the idea of Greater Israel). As for other authors, stigmatized as rightist by the left-oriented literary establishment, they probably fell short of the talent of Jabotinsky or U. Z. Grinberg. Indeed who could dare to put in doubt the talent of those revisionist writers who became part of the classical canon? However, a writer like the aforementioned Moshe Shamir is doubly exposed to the ostracism of the left-wing literary establishment: his rightist opinions are blatant (he was very active in politics to the extent that he was elected member of the Israeli parliament) but his literary achievements cannot be reasonably compared with those of Jabotinsky and Grinberg. In other words, it is always difficult to be an average writer but even more so when one does not belong to the leftist mainstream of Israeli Bohemianism. 7 The example of Moshe Shamir shows that there is no salvation outside left-wing Bohemianism or right-wing dandyism. After his socialist past in the frame of the Ha- shomer Ha-tza‘ir, this author adopted a right-wing populist stand, first in the rank of the Likkud, then with the aforementioned Geulah Cohen. Weren’t it for his change from

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 141

the Left to the Extreme Right, Shamir could have been part of Israeli Bohemianism. However, his political choices removed him away from the political-literary mainstream. Yet his populism prevented him from becoming a literary dandy like the aforementioned Jabotinsky and Grinberg. 8 The fact that right-wing or center-right coalitions dominated the Israeli political life most of the time since 1977 (1977-1984; 1986-1992; 1996-1999; 2001-…) did not help the rightist writers find a legitimacy in the cultural horizon of their country, quite the contrary. Indeed, in the past decade and may be also in the second half of the previous one, Israeli political life was characterized by the fact that many leftists felt as if they were exiled in their own land. Some of them even expressed their will to emigrate outside the country. The main reason for such a stand is the fact that leftists belong to the elite of the nation, that very one elite that lost political leadership in 1977, and did not manage to recover it durably after Rabin’s assassination. Not unlike the French aristocrats who constituted a group of émigrés de l’intérieur during the First Empire, those elitist leftists kept their economic, social and intellectual prestige long after they lost their political power. Ousted from the executive power, this class perpetuated its strong hegemony on the public opinion and the intellectual life of the country. The polarization between the political class and the elite was even more accentuated since the generation of Amos Oz and Abraham B. Yehoshua whose rebellion against the literary establishment was accompanied by a clear commitment to leftist ideals. The identification of leading figures of the Israeli Parnassus with the Left can explain why right-wing writers paradoxically appear as a minority in a country ruled by a rightist or center-right political leadership. 9 The case of David Shahar is even more complicated inasmuch as his reputation of rightist did not really rely on a clear-cut affiliation to a political party.3 Nevertheless the fact that he received many literary prices and fulfilled the functions of chair of the Hebrew Writers Association in Israel may have given the feeling that Shahar was a kind of cultural apparatchik, cumulating the official distinctions but failing to attract the sympathies of the critics. However, most of those distinctions were received before 1977 when Israel was still ruled by Labor Party governments. Actually, the real reason of Shahar’s lack of popularity in Israel is inherent to his work rather than to his public life. It is probably connected with his image of an Israeli Proust, whatever the worth of this association.4 Actually, Shahar was a dandy in his literary taste, but sociologically speaking, his style of life was more Bohemian than dandyish.

Getting rid of the tradition?

10 One of Abraham B. Yehoshua’s first writings was the The Death of the Old Man (Mot Ha- zaqen), an allegorical novel published in 1963. In this short story, the novelist tells about an old-timer who does not manage to die and whom the people of the neighborhood decide to bury alive. In his coffin, they put an exemplar of the Bible, as if they were willing to get rid not only of the literary tradition or of the tradition at all but also of the Bible as a model of writing. The same motive is retaken in a more realistic way by Zeruya Shalev in Husband and Wife (Ba‘al Ve-ishah) (2000) where the hero Na‘amah wants to live her husband Udi’s Bible in the hotel room where he was suddenly stricken by blindness.5 To be sure, neither Yehoshua nor Shalev really

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 142

managed to put the Biblical legacy aside. However, they expressed in a kind of mise en abyme the attempt to cut the tie with Biblical intertextuality.

11 This iconoclastic stand is clearly rejected by Rabbi Haim Sabato whose writing ostentatiously relies on all the possible strata of Hebrew sacred literature from the Bible till medieval liturgical poetry. In his attempt to give a high visibility to Jewish sacred literacy in his fictions Sabato acts differently from Agnon whose relationship to the formulations of the Mishnah nourishes the very texture of his writings. Here, however, the quotations from the sacred corpus are clearly delimitated from the simple prose he uses whenever he stages dialogues. In other words, there is a clear and deliberate gap between the voice of the narrator who is bearing with him the whole corpus of sacred literature and the voices of the characters who speak like average Israelis. In this polyphony of voices, it is difficult to say where stands the heteroglossia – on the side of the narrator or in the mouth of the dramatis personae? 12 It seems that Sabato is doing exactly the opposite than the representatives of the Haskalah who wanted to recycle the hieratic discourse of the source for a secularizing purpose. Sabato, on the other hand, inserts Biblical, Talmudic or liturgical fragments in order to enhance the expressive power of his literary discourse and perhaps to sanctify it back some 150 years after the Maskilim tried to secularize Hebrew letters tough remaining faithful to the esthetic dimension of the Biblical word. In a certain sense, Sabato is reverting the sense of the history of Hebrew literature. 13 However, this image of Sabato as an anti-Maskil may be due to an Ashkenazi-centered vision of the development of Hebrew literature. Sabato, the Cairo-born rabbi of Aleppine origin belongs to a tradition where the conflicts between religion and secularism that tore the Eastern European Jewish horizons were less intensively felt. 14 Anyway, the combination of Sephardic and religious identity doubly isolates Sabato from Israeli literary Bohemianism, which can be considered the emanation of the ausalim (“Ashkenazi secular Israeli-born liberal Israelis” or in other words, the WASP of Israel). To be sure, one of the most prestigious representatives of left-wing Israeli literary Bohemianism is the Sephardic writer Yehoshua who gave a tangible expression of his non-Ashkenazi identity in his fiction.6 However, there is no contradiction in the Yehoshua’s belonging to the milieus of Israel WASP if we take into account that since the days of Yehudah Burla (1886-1969) and Itzhak Shami (1888-1949), the way to the Ashkenazi-centered literary Bohemianism in Mandatory Palestine or in Israel was also open for writers of Sephardic or Oriental background. Even Arab authors writing in Hebrew like Emile Habibi, Anton Shammas and more recently, Sayed Kashua joined the Israeli Hebrew-writing Parnassus. 15 In the case of Sabato, what really makes the difference is the rabbi’s affirmed religious identity that prevented him from joining the literary mainstream. The aforementioned Yehudah Burla and Itzhak Shami both underwent a process of westernization/ secularization at the teacher seminar of the German Jewish organization Hilfsverein der deustchen Juden. Sabato, however, remained faithful to traditional Jewish culture, and he tried to give a modern expression to his roots, bypassing the avenue of mainstream Israel literature. By doing so he met the expectative of a wide range of Israeli readers who perceive the production of the mainstream as ideologically and esthetically remote from their sensibility. In those circles as well as among his detractors,7 Sabato is sometimes compared with Agnon, a comparison that fails to take into account the

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 143

fundamental difference mentioned above between writing the profane in a religious- like style and quoting the sacred texts in order to sanctify the profane.

Different conceptions of the writers’ commitment

16 Sabato’s attempt to sanctify the profane even includes the macabre reality of war and death to the extent that the commitment to ideology minimizes the horrors that the heroes of Adjusting Sights (Teum Kavanot) encounters on the battle field. This attempt to overcome fear and sadness through religion and nationalism has a deterring effect on many Israelis who do not share Sabato’s Weltanschauung.8 The misunderstanding between the religious nationalist rabbi and the mainstream of Israeli Bohemianism raises the question of the meaning of commitment in the Israeli literary horizon. As a matter of fact, the two kinds of commitment – the leftist one of the Bohemians and the right-wing one of their political opponents – essentially differ not only in their content but also as far as the attitude to the very phenomenon of ideology is concerned. As mentioned above, leftist ideology is a default choice option in the literary horizon of modern Israel. And yet, for many representatives of the Israeli left-oriented Bohemianism, fictional writing is an opportunity to deconstruct the inherited ideologies, some of which were part and parcel of the political credo of the Israeli Left in “the good old days”. Sabato, however, is not deconstructing the values of his political camp. He is just reaffirming them in order to make them compatible with the realities that he describes in his fictions. As in Zhdanovian-like literature, the stories he tells are often an instrument meant to illustrate some ideological contents. Paradoxically, the main stream is more subversive than Sabato, the outsider and the trouble-maker in the Israeli cultural horizon.

17 Nevertheless, one can find some seeds of subversion in Sabato’s description of IDF. In order to enhance the dignity of the true heroes who suffered in the Yom Kippur war, the author stigmatizes the errors of the high commandment and caricaturizes the young officers who comes directly from the IDF headquarters in Tel Aviv in clean and new, first time worn uniforms in order to dispatch distinction badges to the fighters. However, the soldiers who just underwent the sufferings of the battle field refuse to adorn their torn and dirty uniforms with what they consider useless accessories. In this scene Sabato stereotypically contrasts the antagonism between the base and the top of IDF and through it, of Israeli society as a whole. 18 A similar denunciation of the gaps within Israeli society is expressed in Sabato’s last fiction Boei Ha-rua (2007) (From the Four Winds), a book that describes the difficulties of integration encountered by Oriental Jews when they emigrated to Israel in the fifties. 19 Sabato’s latent resentment against the Ashkenazi left-wing establishment is characteristic of Israeli political landscape where the Ashkenazi or Ashkenazized socio- economic and intellectual elites are usually leftist whereas the masses, frequently of Sephardic and Oriental origin, are rather attracted to right-wing formations (at least since 1977). The fact that Dov Indig who fell on duty (a true character) is a Romanian- born emigrant does not contradict the assumption that Sabato’s writing raises social and ethnic issues if we take into account that Romanian Jews in Israel were often considered as second-choice Ashkenazim in the socio-ethnic mosaic of the Jewish State. 20 To sum up, the left-wing representatives of Israeli literary Bohemianism are deconstructing the fundaments of the system to which they belong although they enjoy

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 144

a privileged status from it.9 On the other hand, Sabato is denouncing disparities within the system without putting in question its legitimacy as a whole, let alone the legitimacy of his own ideological system. This essential difference may have direct repercussions on the reception of those authors abroad.

The test of the reception abroad

21 As stated in my aforementioned article,10 the extraordinary success of Israeli literature abroad is partly connected with the fact that it is often perceived as a dissident literature. We just noted that this alleged dissidence is more exactly speaking, a sound self-criticism directed toward the accepted truths on which the State of Israel relies since its foundation. If this is really the reason of the popularity of leftist Israeli writers outside Israel, it should be asked what are the chances of Sabato’s books to be well received abroad? Doesn’t he risk to be viewed as an ideology-intoxicated writer whose novels reflect preconceived political agendas? To some extent, Sabato avoided the risk of being ostracized by foreign readerships as shown by the fact that the book that made him famous – Adjusting Sights – was translated in three major languages: English (by Hillel Halkin); French (by Tsivia Frank-Wygoda) and Russian (by Natalia Radovski). It was certainly not easy to promote a book on the cover page of which appears a gunner meditating on the top of a tank with its erected gun. In both the English and French translations this illustration is retaken from the 2003 edition published in honor of the thirtieth anniversary of Yom Kippur War with an interesting detail: whereas in the Hebrew original, the gun is pointed to the left while the seated gunner is gazing at the same direction, as if it were alluding to the right-to-left direction of reading, the aforementioned English and French translations reverted the direction of the picture, perhaps in order to point to left-to-right direction of reading.

22 In terms of editorial policy and book marketing, it is interesting that the Toby Press, a young publisher based in New Milford, Connecticut, took the risk of publishing the French translation of Adjusting Sights (with the poetic title Lunes d’automne, “Fall moons”). It seems that even with this change in the title, no significant French publishers would have dared to propose such a militaristic religious-oriented book to Francophone readership, let alone the Parisian antireligious and antimilitaristic audience. 23 The translators who took on themselves the difficult task to render the heavy intertextuality so manifest in the narrative part of the novel are persons who are very well versed in the world of Hebrew sacred literature and who all live since many years in Israel. As for the readership of Sabato, it is mainly composed of people who are able to understand the intertextual games of this rabbi, even after they are transposed into foreign languages. The reception of Sabato’s translations into English, French and Russian in the respective cultural horizons expresses a deep sense of identification with the world of values exemplified by this kind of committed writing.11 However, it is impossible to compare Sabato’s confessional-parochial success abroad with the extremely wide audience reached by the most prestigious representatives of left-wing Israeli Bohemianism in languages that have very few relation with Jewish civilization like Norwegian, Finnish, Chinese, Japanese or Korean. This disproportion reveals fundamental trends in the reception of Hebrew literature nowadays. First, this literature is mainly appreciated inasmuch as it reflects modern Israeli secular culture,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 145

which leaves few chances to Sabato, a representative of Jewish tradition (though in the modernized garb of religious Zionism). In this sense, it can be said that much time has elapsed since 1966 when Agnon received the Nobel Prize as a Jewish rather than as an Israeli writer (as shown by the fact that he shared the prize with the German-writing Jewish poet Nelly Sachs). Second, left-wing Israeli Bohemianism is still considered the showcase of the country even though the modern political and diplomatic of Israel staff gives a totally different image of the State abroad.

Conclusion

24 To sum up, it seems that for the meanwhile, there cannot be any alternative to left- wing literary Bohemianism in Israel not only because Bohemianism is not very compatible with the Right, but also because since 1977 (with the short intermezzi of 1984-1986; 1992-1996; 1999-2001) there seems to be a complementary distribution between Right and Left in Israel. Whereas the former attracts the masses and concentrates the executive and administrative power, the latter appears as a kind of enlightened aristocracy, not pugnacious enough as to infringe on the Right’s prerogatives, but eminently able to produce cultural products generally at odds with the agenda of the government. It is certainly not fortuitous that the take-off of Abraham B. Yehoshua’s literary career was concomitant with the beginning of the Likkud era. Significantly, The Lover (Ha-Meahev) was published the very year of Begin’s victory at the elections. This does not hold true with regard to Amos Oz who was already a well-known novelist in 1977. However, Oz’s politically-committed essayistic writing knew an important turning point after 1977 with the publication of Be-or ha- tkhelet ha-‘azzah in 1979 (partly translated as Under this Blazing Light).

25 Does it mean that Israel right-wing authors will only deserve success when they will be perceived as the expression of a dissident voice? Actually, they already constitute a kind of alternative track in the Israeli Parnassus or may be beside it, if we take into account that the Israeli Republic of Letters is a kind of leftist shadow government where people affiliated to the tradition of Revisionist Zionism may feel as bad apples. We already stressed the alternative option that would consist in holding individually the position of a literary dandy. However, this option is not so viable, not only because dandies are incompatible with the persistent collectivistic spirit that still structurates Israeli society, but also because distinguished elitistic excentric writers in Byron’s fashion are not welcome in the globalized-democratized cultural horizon of our days. On the other hand, Left-wing Bohemianism is acceptable because it can serve as a moral alibi or as a harmless substitute for politics in a world where demagogically manipulated masses bring to the power political staff totally at odds with the enlightened part of public opinion. Yet right-wing dandyism is not politically correct enough. This is a major flaw in a world dominated by the tyranny of political correctness beside the despotism of demagogically manipulated masses. For all those reasons I am quite pessimistic about the possibility for a right-wing alternative to Israeli left-wing Bohemianism to ever emerge. Besides, it is not sufficient to be rightist in order to be proclaimed a literary dandy. By definition, “strait is the gate” of literary dandyism.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 146

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Agnon, S. Y. 1993 Kol sipurav shel ‘Agnon, Schocken, Tel Aviv.

Aslanov, C. 2011 “La séduction israélienne de la renonciation au passé,” La Vie des idées, 31 mai 2011. ISSN : 2105-3030. http://www.laviedesidees.fr/La-seduction-israelienne-de-la.html?lang=fr

Berg, N. E. 1997 “Sephardi Writing: From the Margins to the Mainstream,” in: Alan L. Mintz (ed.), The Boom in Contemporary Israeli Fiction, Brandeis University Press, Hanover, NH, 1997, pp. 114-142.

Elbaum, D. 2005 “Ma‘aseh bi-shnei ‘Agnonim she hayu be-‘irenu,” Haaretz book supplement, 6 April 2005.

Laor, Y. 2010 The Myths of Liberal Zionism, Verso, London.

Leibowitz Schmidt S. and J. Setbon 2006 “Double-Take: Haim Sabato’s Books Make Waves on Israel’s Cultural Scene,” Jewish Action, vol. 67, no 1, pp. 34-37.

Peled Ginsburg, M. and M. Ron 2004 Shattered Vessels: Memory, Identity, and Creation in the Work of David Shahar, State University of New York Press, Albany.

Rosenthal, R. 2001 “Shloshah yomanei milḥamah,” Eretz Aḥeret, no 3, pp. 40-47.

Shemtov, V. 2006 “The Bible in contemporary Israeli literature: text and place in Zeruya Shalev’s Husband and wife and Michal Govrin’s Snapshots,” Hebrew studies, no 47, pp. 363-384.

NOTES

1. Agnon 1993, V, p. 83. 2. On this affiliation and on its impact on the reception of Israeli writers abroad, see Aslanov 2011. 3. On Shahar’s subtle political stand as it is expressed in his fiction, see Peled Ginsburg and Ron 2004, pp. 87-117. 4. Against the conception that views Shahar as an “Oriental Proust”, see ibid., pp. 119-148. 5. On the role of the Bible in Husband and Wife, see Shemtov 2006. 6. Berg, 1997. 7. Elbaum, 2005. 8. An example of such a deterred reaction provoked by the indifference to the horror of war displayed by the ideologically committed hero is provided by Rosenthal 2001. 9. For a different appreciation of the representatives of Israeli left-wing literary Bohemianism see Laor 2010. 10. Aslanov, 2011.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 147

11. As in the dithyrambic article published in the Modern Orthodox magazine Jewish Action by Leibowitz Schmidt and Setbon 2006.

ABSTRACTS

This article tries to understand why a right-wing literary Bohemianism failed to emerge in Israel. Besides the structural reasons connected with the natural association of Bohemianism with the Left, either as a default choice or as a marked option, the conservatism inherent to right-wing oriented literature is incompatible with modern Israeli attempt to get rid of the tradition. Moreover, what makes left-wing Israeli Bohemianism more credible is its constant need of self- criticism, a concern that blatantly lacks in the partisan writing emanating from the Right. Lastly, the reception abroad obviously favors left-wing Israeli Bohemianism to the extent that there might be a complementary distribution of functions between right-wing politics and left-wing literature in contemporary Israel.

Cet article s’efforce de comprendre les raisons de l’absence d’une bohème littéraire de droite en Israël. Au-delà des facteurs structurels liés à l’association naturelle de la bohème avec la gauche, soit comme un choix par défaut soit comme un terme marqué, le conservatisme inhérent à la littérature droitière est incompatible avec la renonciation au passé qui caractérise souvent les lettres israéliennes. En outre, la bohème de gauche en Israël ne tarit pas de critiques vis-à-vis de son propre pays. Cette préoccupation brille par son absence dans les écrits souvent partisans émanant de la droite. Enfin, la réception de la littérature israélienne hors d’Israël favorise nettement la bohème littéraire de gauche au point qu’on voit se dessiner une répartition complémentaire entre la droite aux commandes du pays et la gauche, maîtresse presque exclusive du Parnasse israélien.

INDEX

Mots-clés: Jabotinsky (Zeev), Greenberg (Uri Zvi), Agnon (Samuel Joseph), Oz (Amos), Yehoshua (Abraham B.), Shamir (Moshé), Shahar (David), Sabato (Haim), bohème littéraire, dandisme littéraire Keywords: Jabotinsky (Zeev), Greenberg (Uri Zvi), Agnon (Samuel Joseph), Oz (Amos), Yehoshua (Abraham B.), Shamir (Moshe), Shahar (David), Sabato (Haim), literary Bohemianism, literary dandyism

AUTHOR

CYRIL ASLANOV

Cyril Aslanov, alumnus of the École Normale Supérieure/ Rue d’Ulm, is associate professor at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem where he chairs the French studies program, the International Center for University Teaching of Jewish Civilization and the Chais Center for Jewish Studies in

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 148

Russian. He is also consulting member of the Academy of the Hebrew Language. Among his last publications, Sociolingüística histórica de las lenguas judías, Buenos Aires, 2011.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 149

Investigating the Israeli Soldier’s Guilt and Responsibility The case of the NGO “Breaking the Silence”

Yael Munk

1 The late 20th century’s global world and its new media technologies have transformed our visual culture in general. Providing fresh, unedited images from live broadcasts, it challenges not only our knowledge of truth about specific events but also the notion of truth in general. This contention becomes even more critical when it comes to the representation of wars. What was once considered remote and invisible, i.e. behind the enemy lines, and could be reconstructed only on the basis of soldiers’ recollections, is now represented on a multitude of sites in which millions of images compete with each other. This plethora of images which includes not only television broadcasts but also alternative and often unregulated Internet channels, has raised again the issue of the visibility and invisibility of war. Not only have the battlefronts come closer, but the multitude and repetition of broadcast images have created an opposite effect: the invisible has become visible and the visible – questionable. In spite of the fact, however, that in this constellation the question of truth has become more relevant than ever, the audiences have become alienated and developed a kind of indifference vis-à-vis the news they see broadcasted on their screen. The media representation of war seems to have reached a dead end, and the perpetual search for new images has led, among others, to a growing interest in subjective documentation.

2 This paper engages with one such form of subjective documentation in Israel: the “Breaking the Silence” testimonial clips, and seeks to evaluate their contribution to the representation of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in various media texts. “Breaking the Silence” (Shovrim Shtika) began almost spontaneously some ten years ago, in 2003, when a small eponymous NGO arranged a photo exhibition in Tel-Aviv. The exhibition displayed original images shot by anonymous Israeli soldiers during their compulsory military service in the occupied territories. Focusing on the Palestinian town of Hebron, the exhibition revealed through the depictions of the low-ranking Israeli soldier’s mission, the unbearable daily life of the local population. This was the first time that Israeli citizens, who up till then had been mostly informed by the official

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 150

Israeli media, were invited to look at the other faces of the occupation, including that of the role of the Israeli soldier (who could be the viewer’s son or brother) in carrying out the Israeli occupation policy. 3 The efficacy and validity of these “confessions from the battlefield” (though the notion of battlefield does not really apply in the discussion of the implementation of the occupation policy in the everyday life of the occupied population), have been at the heart of many public debates. This is not the first time that IDF soldiers have talked. Already in 1967, shortly after the Six Day War, a group of Israeli soldiers from various kibbutzim published their collective testimonies about that war, The Seventh Day: Soldiers Talk about the Six-Day War (Siah Lohamim), in which they confessed their moral reservations and regrets about the brutal acts carried out during the Israeli conquest of the Palestinian land in 1967 (Gan, 2008). Soon after its publication the book became the formative text for generations of young Israeli men who adopted these representations of militaristic masculinity for the constitution of their identity. At the same time, there were voices in the Israeli public sphere that could not tolerate this duality of remorseful soldiers confessing their “sins” and this phenomenon gave birth to a new phrase: “The Shooting and Crying” soldiers. A few decades later, the first Breaking the Silence’s testimonies was attributed the same pejorative title: another manifestation of the “Shooting and Crying” syndrome. The times were different, however, and so too the “Shooting and Crying” syndrome’s impact. 4 In their article “Black and White and Shades of Gray: Palestinians in the Israeli Media during the 2nd Intifada” (2009), Tamar Liebes and Zohar Kampf contend that as opposed to the first Intifada in the late 1980s, the Israeli coverage of the second Intifada was much less biased and included a broad range of Palestinian faces and voices, sometimes directly accusing the Israeli occupation. I would like to add to their argument and suggest that this dramatic change in the Israeli media coverage in the occupied territories was made possible, among other reasons, thanks to the “Breaking the Silence” testimonies, which still today enjoy a growing popularity among those looking for other voices in regard to the conflict. 5 The non-professional shots that the IDF soldiers provided brought “Hebron to Tel- Aviv”, as noted in the organization’s official site, in an unprecedented way. Casting light on what had been intentionally obscured in the official media coverage of the occupation, these images introduced the insider’s point of view regarding an unbearable and yet ignored situation, in which each and every Israeli is directly or indirectly implicated, and soon became an additional source of information on the occupied territories. The still photography format was transformed into video documentation which enabled its broadcasting on various alternative channels, including You-Tube. Providing the world with the complexity of the political situation in real time, these documentations became active participants in the Middle East war of images. These clips that competed with the hegemonic voice soon became the basis for a new archive for all Israelis, and turned into agents of memory. As such they provided the memory-scape, those visions necessary for the remembrance of what we have not personally experienced. According to Tamar Katriel and Nimrod Shavit (2011), the notion of memory-scape bears two main concerns: (1) interplay of archival memory as a depository of knowledge about the past and its enactment as lived or usable memory in the immediate or distant future. According to this vision, images constitute the past of any conflict documentation; and (2) role played by personal memory in

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 151

renegotiating public memory. This second point seems to me crucial to an understanding of the “Breaking the Silence” visual testimonies, as it blurs the boundaries between the personal and the public and invites the viewer of these personal testimonies to rethink the relation between the State and the individual. 6 The discussion on the Breaking the Silence project also implies another dimension suggested in the very name of the organization and having to do with the State’s responsibility for the soldiers’ lives, morals and ethics. ‘Breaking the Silence’ is a metaphor traditionally used to describe a victim’s confession to a violent act endured in their home or other protected environment, such as rape or domestic violence. As such it usually refers to the weaker and more helpless population groups such as women or children. In adopting this title, the members of this organization subverted the well-established equation between home and the nation, and invite others to look into the acts carried out in the name of the homeland; acts whose victims are not only those defined as enemies but also the nation’s own sons. 7 This speaking out against the crimes of the home-nation should be read as the dominance of the ethical personal dimension over that of the national discourse. It subverts the coherence of that discourse and reveals what was meant to have been kept secret: the condition of the IDF soldiers as victims of their nation. This representation provides an ethical and aesthetic breakthrough in its new depiction of the Israeli soldier’s relationship to his commanders and to the State in general. Similar to children who have been victims of violence in the space they consider theirs, “Breaking the Silence” aims to reveal to the world these young men and women’s painful realization of guilt and the ethical approach that they wish to implement through their confession to the camera. 8 This is why these testimonies contain an inherent contradiction: on the one hand they represent the soldiers’ attempt to come to terms with their implication in immoral acts of war; while on the other hand these same soldiers expect that the very act of confession will in itself grant them moral recognition, or even absolution, as in a religious context, in which the act of confession and its ritual text are intended to wash away the “sins” and enable the “sinner” to continue his life afterwards as if nothing had happened. But the act of confession by definition allows acknowledgment of guilt with a certain taking into account of personal responsibility. And though many would claim that the public avowal of guilt does not absolve the guilty from responsibility, I would contend that indeed the vulnerability of a 19-year-old soldier at war – if the occupation of the West Bank can be called war, and I believe it can – does not enable a comparison of the soldiers’ acts with those of other adult transgressions. Not only is the context different – since it is imposed on the soldier by his very being as part of an army – but it should also be read as part of the indoctrination process that the military considers as a component of the soldiers’ training. The soldiers carry out what they have been trained to do. But at the same time the soldiers realize that something is profoundly wrong in their doing so. Their personal ethical values clash with the military ethics that they have been taught and this understanding leads them to confession, i.e. the documentation of their “sins” in real time. The footage they shot during their military service becomes both the individual’s confession and as well as his testimony about something, as-if-private, which was kept hidden from the world. The result is a subjective documentation of a kind that is often absent in the official media coverage of the events. This is not just another “talking head” who recounts to an

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 152

anonymous journalist what he has seen and whose commitment to the truth is partial and circumstantial; but, rather, an individual’s thoughts shot in real time with that same individual’s own camera. 9 Besides the insider point of view it provides, the added value of such documentary footage resides in the combination of subjectivity and real time. There are neither specific addressees nor specific interests (national or other). The documentation simply exists as is for the national archive, constituting one more document for those future historians who will write the tragedy of the Israeli occupation in Judea and Samaria. 10 Therefore, though the “Breaking the Silence” testimonial clips cannot really be considered as real documentaries (since they were not directed and/or edited in professional ways), their strength stems from their powerful confessional dimension. Their combination of a confessional and a testimonial aspect has turned these clips into an appropriate political response to the prolonged involvement of Israeli soldiers in the occupied territories. Moreover, their unique approach to the Israeli occupation has given birth to the most successful Israeli feature films of the last decade – “Beaufort” (Joseph Ceader, 2007), “Waltz with Bashir” (Ari Folman, 2008) and “Lebanon” (Shumlik Maoz, 2009); all three dealing with memories of the first Lebanon War (1982) and reconstructing them in a new form of testimony/confession.1 But there is a difference between testimony and confession. Susannah Radstone suggests that this can be formulated through the legal discourse: “The defendant/confessant’s responses to the questions directed to them by the defense and the prosecution will concern themselves – their actions, their motivations. At stake in the discourse of the confessant is the question of their guilt or innocence.[...] [However] the witnesses may describe something that has happened to them – an attack, for instance, but for which they are held to have no responsibility or agency.” (Radstone, p. 168) 11 How are we then to understand the “Breaking the Silence” clips? Obviously, like the above mentioned feature films, they bear in common a powerful argument: the denunciation of the abandonment of young Israeli soldiers in insoluble situations in the middle of a foreign land (and the case the Judea-Samaria is not different that in from Lebanon), and the revelation of the ethical dilemmas of the young Israeli soldier having to obey orders they do not always understand or, at best, that do not always fit their moral code. Therefore the Breaking the Silence clips should no longer to be perceived only as testimonies about the Israeli occupation in the occupied territories but, also, as confessions of young Israeli men who had became aware that they were being manipulated to act in a certain way, against their ethical principles, in the name of patriotism. This is why these clips should be read as political acts of resistance designed by the nation’s elected sons, who suddenly realized that in the dreadful political theatre of the Middle East they were assigned the role of both victim and victimizer.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Breaking the Silence website: http://www.breakingthesilence.org.il

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 153

Gan, A. 2008 “Si’ah lohamim and Hasufim ba-tzariah as Symbols of Different Approaches” in Na’ama Sheffi and Tammy Razi (eds.). Israel: The Six Day War and its Impact on Culture and on the Media, N° 13, Tel Aviv University, pp. 267-296.

Katriel, T. and Shavit, N. 2011 “Between Moral Activism and Archival Memory: The Testimonial Project of “Breaking the Silence”, On Media Memory: Collective Memory in a New Media Age, edited by Motti Neiger, Oren Meyers and Eyal Zandberg. London and New York: Palgrave Mcmillan, pp. 77-86.

Liebes, T. & Kampf, Z. 2009 “From Black and White to Shades of Gray: Palestinians in the Israeli Media during the Second Intifada”, International Journal of Press/Politics 14(4): 434-453.

Radstone, S. 2006 “Cultures of Confession/ Cultures of Testimony: Turning the Subject Inside Out,” in Jo Gill (ed.), Modern Confessional Writing: New Critical Essays. Routledge, London and New York, pp. 166-180.

NOTES

1. See, for example, Susannah Radstone (2006). “Cultures of confession/cultures of testimony: Turning the Subject Inside Out”. Modern Confessional Writing: New Critical Essays. Edited by Jo Gill. London and New York: Routledge, pp. 166-180.

ABSTRACTS

While technologies of war reporting have been constantly improving, media images have been proliferating but also suffering from increasing lack of credibility. The Israeli NGO “Breaking the Silence”, created a few years ago, tries to answer this challenge by documenting the daily life of soldiers in the occupied territories. The organization proposes filmed testimonies/confessions, which highlight the double role of the soldiers in Tsahal’s military system, both persecutors and as victims. This double role, and this conception of the responsibility of the Israeli soldier, seems to have been the ethical basis of recent Israeli movies dealing with the first Lebanon War: “Beaufort”, “Waltz with Bashir”, and “Lebanon”. It offers the intellectual infrastructure to a denunciation of the military manipulation of young men in the name of patriotism. This is why the documents of “Breaking the Silence” must be interpreted as acts of political resistance.

Alors que les technologies de la couverture de la guerre ne cessent de se perfectionner les images de medias deviennent de plus en plus nombreuses et de moins en moins crédibles. L’organisation non-gouvernementale israélienne “Briser le silence” qui a été fondée il y a quelques années, cherche à répondre à ce défi en documentant le quotidien des soldats israéliens dans les territoires occupés, sous la forme de témoignages-confession, d’où ressort le double rôle de ces soldats dans le système militaire de Tsahal – à la fois persécuteur et victime. Cette dualité vis-à- vis de la responsabilité du soldat israélien, qui semble avoir servie de base éthique aux derniers

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 154

films Israéliens à succès traitant de la première guerre du Liban – “Beaufort”, “Valse avec Bashir” et “Lebanon”, offre en fait l’infrastructure intellectuelle sur laquelle repose la dénonciation de la manipulation militaire de jeunes hommes au nom du patriotisme. C’est pourquoi il se doit d’interpréter ces documentations comme des actes de résistance politique.

AUTHOR

YAEL MUNK

Yael Munk is a lecturer of film and cultural studies at the Open University of Israel and at the Tel- Aviv University. She is the author of Exiled in their Borders: Israeli Cinema between the Two Intifadas (The Open University of Israel, 2012). In her research she explores Israeli and Palestinian cinemas, postcolonial theory and the critique of colonialism, the emergence of new and hybrid identities after the nation-state, and documentary filmmaking by women.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 155

The Dynamics of Images in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

Israel's media policy

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 156

Rituals of Apology in the Israeli- Palestinian Conflict

Zohar Kampf

Rituals of apology in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

1 In recent years, scholars, writers, and journalists noted that apologies have become a central rhetorical genre in local and global politics. This trend is evident in the frequent expressions of apology, regret and sorrow by politicians, organizations, and states, which lend credence to the claim that we are living in the “age of apology”. Looking at apologies and other reconciliatory gestures made in the context of the Israeli Palestinian relationship reveals that the list includes several demands for apology and few hundreds of expressions of sorrow – a somewhat frail and ambiguous manifestation of moral self-positioning without an acknowledgment of responsibility. In order to understand how apologetic gestures function in the Israeli Palestinian conflict, I analyze in this paper the discourse of and about apology, and its relative speech acts (demands to apologize; refusals to apologize; expression of sorrow etc.), as well as the role of journalists in constructing this discourse. I address two questions: (1) how the political fad of beating one’s breast is relevant to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and, (2) how do journalists generate and manage the discourse of apology.

2 Before answering these questions I will briefly explain what is public apology and why should we show interest in apologies? As mentioned above, in recent years the discourse of apologies – evident in the frequent demand for apologies, and of expressions of apology, regret and sorrow by politicians, organizations, and states – have become prominent in local and global politics (Brooks, 1999; Gibney et al, 2007; Kampf, 2009a Löwenheim, 2009; Kampf and Löwenheim, 2012). Following this discursive development, public apologies have become ‘hot’ topic studied in a variety of disciplines, including philosophy, political science, international relations, sociology, discourse studies, communications, and law. Most of the scholarly work on apologies is based on speech act theory and the category of expressive speech acts (Searle and Vanderveken, 1985). This category includes apologies, regrets and expressions of

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 157

sorrow, among other acts – all of which points to the psychological state of a speaker. Many scholars have also used Goffman’s notions of face and remedial acts (1971). In this theoretical context, we can point on three attributes of expressive speech acts that function as remedial acts in conflictual discourse: 3 Remedial acts as social indicators: Apologies, regrets and expression of sorrow serve as an explicit manifestation of moral self positioning of a speaker vis-à-vis his/her act (was there a violation of norms?) and his/her victim (does s/he worth a remedial act?). At the societal level, as Lakoff notes, through concentrating on apologies “… located in a specific cultural and societal time and place, we can come to understand a great deal about who we are, what we want, and the rules and the assumptions that bind us together as a society.” (Lakoff, 2001: 212). 4 Remedial acts as settling conflictual processes: Reconciliatory gestures are embedded within a critical point of an evolving conflictual process (Goffman, 1971; Tavuchis, 1991). The performance of a remedial act brings attention to a transgression made in the past by an offender, who regrets his deed and acknowledges responsibility for its realization in the present, with the goal of receiving forgiveness and being re-included into the social structure in the future. Ideally, at the end of the reconciliatory process there is a restoration of equilibrium to the social order. 5 Remedial acts and Responsibility (or lack thereof): A formal apology demands a clear acknowledgment of responsibility by the offender, which may lead to the restoration of relationship with the offended party (Olshtain, 1989; Tavuchis, 1991). However, micro analysis of apologies reveals that offenders tend to minimize responsibility for misdeeds by using several strategies: they can use ambiguous apology verbs (such as sorry), blur the nature of the offense, question the identity of the offended party and/ or raise doubt regarding the identity of the offender. By using these strategies, they transform expressions of apologies to non-apologies (Kampf, 2009b) 6 When remedial acts like apologies are extracted from the privet sphere and issued in the public domain, the logic of realization and the dynamic of the reconciliatory process are changed (Tavuchis, 1991). Here, the media plays a crucial role by, first, transferring words to heterogeneous audiences, which are not necessarily connected to the same normative system of rules and assumptions as the offender and the offended. 7 The presence of the many may create a “punitive atmosphere,” as sometimes the main goal of indirect participants is to humiliate the wrongdoer. Second, the involvement of the media “front stages” the reputation of the offender and turns him into a performer who seeks to restore his image. The emphasis on one’s public image leads to totally different considerations in realizing apologetic statements. The outcome of the will or the obligation to perform a reconciliatory act is a realization that lacks the sincerity and authenticity which characterize apologies in the private sphere. Third, the media document the apologetic statement in a kind of public quotation archive. The documentation “on record” of speech acts creates a definitive version of story with a clear offender and victim. It also enables others, including journalists and rival politicians, to cite the apology in any case of the same occurrence in the future. This practice reduces the freedom of actions of public figures, thus encouraging them to use equivocal and calculated language. Last is the judicial and formal stance of words. In cases in which the apologizer has violated a criminal law, issuing an apology, may endure material or other severe consequences, such as financial restitution or dismissal from a political role (Wagatsuma and Rosett, 1986).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 158

8 These factors pose an avoidance dilemma (Bavelas, 1990) for public figures and organizations, wishing to issue an apology without suffering from its consequences. This dilemma compels them to consider linguistic strategies which are best fit to placate the victim without posing a dangerous threat to their own image and interests. In doing so, they become linguistic acrobats, creatively using various strategies in order to reduce their responsibility for the events under public discussion.

How the discourse of apologies is relevant to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?

9 We can now turn to the first question: How the political fad of beating one’s breast is relevant to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict? During the last two decades, the media have frequently reported public figures and organizations demanding apologies and expressing sorrow for different types of violations, two of which are relevant to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

10 1. Expressions of sorrow for severe short-term transgressions, such as “collateral damage”. Such expressions were made frequently by the IDF spokesman and by political representatives following the killing of civilians during the second Intifada. In fact, since the Kaffar Kana incident in 1996, in which more than 100 Palestinians refugees were killed, expressing sorrow is the most frequent response by Israeli officials. 11 What is the reason for using such non-responsible expressions of sorrow? Severe transgressions make a necessity to issue a response, thereby posing an avoidance dilemma for Israeli spokesmen. On the one hand, not apologizing for killings would violate international expectations to display appropriate moral stance in view of a grave offense. On the other hand, apologizing would be an admission of violating an international law and may expose Israel to liability in future litigations. The way out is to try to satisfy all involved parties by using equivocal language. The sorry verb is ideal for this mission as it contains not less than six meanings and functions, thus allowing perpetrators to admit and avoid responsibility at the same time (Kampf and Blum- Kulka, 2011): (1) general expression of sorrow (sorry for what happened); (2) apology; (3) expression of sympathy (4) disapproval; (5) denial of the need to apologize, and (6) expression of regret.1 12 2. A second relevant type of response is an expression of regret for severe long-term transgressions, such as past discrimination, exploitation, and deportation. The literature suggests that Israel has played a pivotal role in the global practice of apology as the representative of Jewish victims (Kampf, 2012). As such, Israel was an addressee of historical apologies, mainly from European states for their actions during the Holocaust. However, since the initiation of the Oslo peace process, Israel has been urged to take the role of the apologizer and acknowledge its responsibility for the suffering of the Palestinians. 13 Demands for an Israeli apology were manifested several times during the 1990s in the intermediate agreements with the Palestinians (Cairo agreements in 1994; Hebron agreement in 1997 and the Wye River Memorandum in 1998). Several calls to Israel to advance its discourse of recognition were also made in the open public discourses. One example, is a column by Edward Said in the Egyptian newspaper Al-Aharam (1995), calling Israelis to follow the example of Jacques Chirac’s apology for the Vichy regime’s

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 159

conduct in WWII, and to issue an apology for “the wrong done by their government against a relatively innocent people”. The second, with possibly greater impact on Israeli discourse of recognition, was the public debate that erupted in 1998, 50 years following the “Naqba,” about the need to face up with the “Palestinian suffering.” 14 Israel responded to these calls, again, with an expression of sorrow. 30 years following Golda Meir’s interviews to the British Independent Television (ITV) in which she declared, “There is no such thing that can be entitled Palestinian people”, PM Ehud Barak’s words in 1999 can be regarded as a milestone in the Israeli discourse of recognition. Barak’s statement in the parliament’s plenum, “We are sorry for the heavy suffering the conflict caused, not only to us, but also to all of the Arab nations that fought against us, including the Palestinians…,” was defined as the most far-reaching declaration ever made by an Israeli official toward the Palestinians. Not only Barak acknowledged the existence of the political entity entitled Palestinians, He also recognized their suffering, but without taking any responsibility for its occurrence. 15 And then came the 2nd Intifada and the issue of apology went up in the flames…

How do journalists manage the discourse of and about apology?

16 Before tackling my second my question we should notice that there are several reasons for journalists to engage in the discourse of apology (see Kampf, 2011): First, apologies may serve as a means of legitimizing journalistic work, as they allow them to perform their public role as norm enforcers. They can point out on a deviation from what is publicly perceived as appropriate, and later demand accountability from the public transgressor. The second reason may be their temporary superiority over political actors throughout the conflictual process which result in apologies. Whereas during the routine coverage of events journalists are dependent upon the political establishment as their main sources, in the case of political transgressions journalists who point out anti-normative actions of the powerful, have the upper hand. Third, the coverage of apologies is in line with the journalists’ wish to signal their belonging to a specific society by contributing to the creation of a social consensus. Last, rituals of apology are appealing for journalists as tellers of melodramatic stories that draw wide public interest. They position well-known public figures and institutions in the limelight in the roles of transgressors and victims and include complex sets of emotions, such as sorrow, embarrassment, shame, humiliation, and resentment, all enacted and “celebrated” by the direct participants and the public.

17 The basic function of journalists in the context of the Israeli Palestinian conflict is the mediation of apologetic gestures to the public. The media also serve as a platform for public debate of the necessity and the sincerity of apologetic expressions. Returning to Barak’s expression of sorrow, while in Israel, his statement stirred a public debate; in the Palestinian and Arabic press it received almost no response. A search in five newspapers – Israeli-Palestinian El-Itihad, Palestinian El-Ayam and El-Kuds, and Arabic El-Shark Elawsat and El-Hayat – two days following Barak’s speech, yielded only two minor references to Israel’s recognition of the Palestinian suffering. The items were published in the news sections of El-Itihad and El-Kuds, included an informative account of Barak’s expression of sorrow (Kampf, 2012).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 160

18 On the Israeli side, journalists were involved in the public debate in the opinion columns, erupted before Barak’s statement and immediately following it. Analysis of the debate shows that it took the form of negotiation over four issues, which paralleled the four felicity conditions of apology. The debate was focused, among other things, on the factual nature of the conflict: Was there a transgression? Who is responsible for it? Who is the victim? On the formulation of words and of its sincerity: Was it a genuine and meaningfully expression? 19 More interesting is what goes beyond the mere reporting of the actions and speech acts made by others. Journalists may take an active role in rituals of apology: They may frame actions as transgressions and may contribute to the intensity of a conflict by taking on the role of commentators, mediators and even of instigators (Kampf, 2011). 20 The following example demonstrates journalistic active involvement in rituals of apology as instigators. The events began in April 2001 with an exchange of fire between Israeli soldiers and Palestinian security officials at the Erez border crossing following a meeting between senior political officials from both sides. In response to the international denunciations against Israel, Israeli PM Ariel Sharon sent a letter to U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell in which he expressed “sorrow for the regrettable incident” in the name of the Israeli government (Haaretz, 10.4.01). This expression of sorrow was reported as an apology in the newspaper Maariv: “The Prime Minister sent a letter to Secretary of State Colin Powell and apologized for the shooting by IDF soldiers” 21 The act of changing the pragmatic function of the speech act from non-responsible sorrow to apology was only the first journalistic practice in initiating a mini scandal. The report also included reactions in the public arena to the alleged statement of responsibility made by Sharon. Indeed, the practice exercised by Maariv of taking responses from other figures in the public discourse generated a second wave of accusations, this time by Israeli army officers and right-wing politicians, describing the apology letter as a “slap in the face and expression of distrust that weakens the strength of IDF”(Yitzchak Levy Maariv, 10.4.01). 22 The Maariv report on the apology and the subsequent accusations did not end here. The newspaper played the role of an instigator in the evolving plot and went on to elicit a reaction from the transgressor (Sharon). In a later report on the political crisis, Maariv (10.4.01) published a statement of denial made by the prime minister’s spokesman, in which he explained the multi-function of the verb sorry that was the source of the misunderstanding: The prime minister did not apologize and does not intend to apologize. He is simply expressing his sorrow that the incident occurred… The letter was written in a highly sophisticated manner. If read carefully, it is clear that, in fact, the PM blames the Palestinians and is not apologizing for any Israeli act. 23 The spokesman denied the implication that the PM had apologized for the incident. While Sharon’s statement was intended to suffice as an apology in the eyes of the U.S., he intended it to be perceived by Israelis as a general expression of sorrow, or even as a shifting of blame to the Palestinians. This tactic would have worked had Maariv kept the original pragmatic function in its report.

24 This case is not exceptional. Analyzing reports on apologies in popular and elite newspapers reveals that the practice of switching between the responsible apology and non-responsible sorry is common. There might be at least two reasons for doing so. The

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 161

naïve explanation faults journalists’ and editors’ lack of awareness regarding the differences between these verbs. The cynical explanation is that the substitution of apology with sorry is done in order to arouse emotional oppositions regarding transgressions and as a means for personalizing political confrontations (as between Levy and Sharon in the described case). In either case, the initiation of apology discourse poses an ethical challenge to journalistic practices. It shifts the public’s attention from the first-order transgression – putting the life of Palestinian officials under threat – into a peripheral second-order transgression, posing a threat to the organizational image of IDF by apologizing for its acts. 25 In lieu of conclusion, a comment on the normative role of journalists in mediating remedial acts in the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict: Journalists today do not merely report on “stories” but rather may become the writers and directors of developing moral narratives. Instead of mediating the “world out there,” they create news stories such as those around apologies, impacting the ways in which the public engages in the moral dilemmas underlying these stories. These practices can be understood against the backdrop of two alternative explanations: (1) the commercialization of news: apologies are means for creating political drama that sells. (2) Responsible journalism (some will call it “peace journalism”), in which journalists may pursue a meaningful intervention for restoring relations or promoting reconciliation. In this context, the greatest challenge is to differentiate between different types of infelicitous speech acts in an age of apology; hollow, humiliating or insincere remedial acts, once expressed in public, may nevertheless have meaningful value.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bavelas, J. B. et al. 1990 Equivocal Communication, Newbury Park, Calif: Sage.

Brooks, R. L. (ed.) 1999 When Sorry Isn’t Enough: The Controversy Over Apologies and Reparation for Human Injustice, New York: New York University Press.

Gibney, M., Howerd-Hassmann, R. S., Coicaud, J. M., and Sreiner, N., (eds.) 2007 The Age of Apology: Facing up the Past, Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania University press.

Goffman, E. 1971 Relations in Public, New York, Basic Books.

Kampf, Z. 2009a The age of apology: Evidence from the Israeli public discourse, Social Semiotics, vol. 19, n° 3, pp. 257-273. 2009b Public (non-)apologies: The discourse of minimizing responsibility, Journal of Pragmatics, vol. 41, n° 11, pp. 2257-2270. 2011 Journalists as actors in social dramas of apology, Journalism, vol. 12, n° 1, pp. 71-87.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 162

Kampf, Z., and Blum-Kulka, S. 2011 The Functions of sorry in Israeli Public and Everyday Discourses, Helkat Lashon, vol. 43-44, pp. 367-391. (in Hebrew)

Kampf, Z., and Löwenheim, N. 2012 Rituals of apology in the international arena, Security Dialogue, vol. 43, n° 1, pp. 43-60.

Lakoff, R. B. 2001 Nine way of looking at apologies: The necessity for interdisciplinary theory and method in discourse analysis, In: D. Schiffrin, D. Tannen, and H. Hamilton, (eds.). Handbook of Discourse Analysis, London: Blackwell. Pp. 199-214.

Löwenheim, N 2009 A haunted past: requesting forgiveness for wrongdoing in International Relations, Review of International Studies, vol. 35, pp. 531-555.

Olshtain, E. 1989 Apologies across languages, In: S. Blum-Kulka, J. House, and G. Kasper, (eds.). Cross-Cultural Pragmatics: Requests and Apologies, New Jersey: Ablex, pp. 155-173.

Searle, J. R., and Vanderveken, D. 1985 Foundations of Illocutionary Logic, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

Tavuchis, N. 1991 Mea Culpa: A Sociology of Apology and Reconciliation, Stanford, California, Stanford University Press.

Wagatsuma, H. and Rosett, A. 1986 The implications of apology: Law and culture in Japan and the United States, Law and Society Review, vol. 20, n° 40, pp. 461-498.

NOTES

1. Note that we should not underestimate expressions of sorrow as they still signal a reaffirmation of the norms of fighting at war. Compare it for instance to the Hamas joyful responses, which means “killing civilians is justified”.

ABSTRACTS

Against the backdrop of the claim made in recent years by scholars, writers, and journalists, according to which apologies has become a central rhetorical genre in local and global politics, this paper asks (1) how the political fad of beating one’s breast is relevant to the Israeli- Palestinian conflict and, (2) how do journalists generate and manage the discourse of and about apologies. In conclusion, I reflect on the normative role of journalists in mediating corrective, symbolic actions in the context of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Ces dernières années, chercheurs, écrivains, journalistes ont affirmé que l’excuse est devenue un genre rhétorique central dans la politique locale et globale. Sur cet arrière-plan, ma présentation

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 163

pose deux questions. (1) En quoi ceci est-il pertinent dans le conflit israélo-palestinien. (2) Comment les journalistes produisent et gèrent le discours de l’excuse, et à propos de l’excuse. En conclusion, je propose une réflexion sur le rôle normatif des journalistes comme relais d’actions symboliques, qui se veulent réparatrices, dans le conflit israélo-palestinien.

INDEX

Keywords: Apology, remedial actions, Israeli-Palestinian conflict, targeted killing

AUTHOR

ZOHAR KAMPF

Zohar Kampf is an Associate Professor of Communication and Journalism at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. His main research interest lies in the linkage among language, media and politics. He has published articles in the areas of discourse analysis, political communication, and journalism.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 164

Reflections on Israel's Public Diplomacy

Meron Medzini

1 One of the least understood and most reviled activity of virtually all of Israel's governments since 1948 has been its public diplomacy, also known as Hasbara, the Hebrew term that can be translated as explaining and disseminating information in addition to being propaganda. The last term became intolerable due to its use by the Nazis. Most critics of Israel's public diplomacy efforts, both at home and abroad, focused not on the policies of Israel but on how they were marketed and their success or failure in convincing opinion and decision makers in the justice of Israel's cause. Few realized that Hasbara was at best a supportive action, not an end in itself. But it was always an easy target with which to attack any government in Israel and thus Israel's advocacy gained far greater attention than it deserves. The purpose of this paper is to argue that the focus on Israel's public diplomacy has been greatly exaggerated and over-inflated and that a more rational understanding of its nature will lead to placing Hasbara in a broader context of Israeli foreign and defense policies. The basic premise derives from a statement attributed to the founder of Israel David Ben-Gurion who said: “Never mind what the gentiles say, what counts is what the Jews will do.” I fully subscribe to his dictum, while the critics of Israel's foreign and defense policy challenge it.

2 For the purpose of discussion, the history of Israel will be divided to five distinct periods: 1948-1967, 1967-1977, 1977-1991, 1991-1996 and the last one since 1996 to the present. The Hasbara efforts of each era will be considered from the perspectives of Israel's political leadership of the time, information content, organization, structure, implementation and success-failure. Obviously, special attention will be paid to the major political-defense developments of the time and the role of the Israeli leadership in dealing with Hasbara. The paper is based not so much on academic research but on the experience of the writer gained over many years as head of the Government Press Office in Jerusalem, and in that capacity as occasional spokesman for the bureaus of three prime ministers (Eshkol, Meir and Rabin), as a senior officer for the United Israel Appeal dealing with disseminating information among Jewish communities in the

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 165

Diaspora, and finally as an academic, teaching courses on Israeli foreign policy at the Rothberg International School of the Hebrew University for the past forty years. This will explain the absence of footnotes.

1948-1967

3 This era can be characterized for Hasbara purpose as one of Israel emerging from a long War of Independence, still under siege, not yet recognized by many nations, and usually treated with kid gloves out of the desire not to attack Jews so soon after the Holocaust. Israel also spoke with one authoritative voice, was governed during those years by one major party (Mapai), and although Mapai headed a coalition government, the top positions, those of Prime Minister, Defense Minister and Foreign Minister were held by ministers belonging to that party. The country's leadership still felt it had to justify Israel's existence and had to convince others that the new political reality was going to be a permanent factor and feature in the Middle East. Their goal at the time was to ensure the survival of the state. They realized this could be achieved by mass immigration, vast economic aid and availability of weapons. This applied to the years 1949-1956, before the Sinai War, when many doubted Israel's chances for survival.

4 The foreign press corps in Israel, numbering less than fifty permanent correspondents, many of them Israelis working for foreign outlets, provided the main source of information on Israel. What counted at the time were the print media, radio, and the emerging new instrument – television. The technology was by today's standards rudimentary, overseas phone calls were rare and had to be ordered hours in advance and cables and telexes were the most modern means of communications. Under these circumstances it was easy for the government to impose censorship on sensitive military and even political information, and that was often extended to item regarding sources of immigration, weapons, oil and even the names of key officials such as heads of the Mossad and General Security Services. Prime Minister Ben-Gurion did not even bother to have a spokesman. Secrecy was the norm. There were few official organizations dealing with the media – chief among them were the IDF Spokesman's Unit, the Foreign Ministry Spokesman, the Government Press Office in the Prime Minister's Office and on the domestic scene the Information Center which sought to disseminate and instill democratic values to the very heterogeneous Israeli society then in the midst of absorbing mass immigration from over 100 countries and territories speaking some twenty languages and coming from diverse cultural backgrounds. There was little intra-agency infighting and it was easy to obtain coordination among the information bodies. Official spokesman did not have a difficult task of disseminating the official viewpoint as the country spoke in one voice. 5 However, even then questions about Israel's defense and foreign policies began to emerge. They focused on the policy of cross border retaliatory raids, ties with Germany, its policy of neutrality in the Cold War that ended in 1950 when Israel opted to join the Western camp led by the United States after the outbreak of the Korean War. From 1955, when Egypt began receiving vast amount of modern weapons from the Soviet Union, the question arose if Israel should embark on a defensive war. Following that war Israel's image improved significantly and in the late 1950's it was obvious that Israel was here to stay. By then Israel began to implement large scale foreign aid programs mainly in the new nations of Africa and was beginning to act as a normal

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 166

nation no longer under immediate threat to its existence. Two major events attracted hundreds of foreign reporters to Israel 800 for the Eichmann Trial in 1961 and 1200 to cover the visit of Pope Paul VI in January 1964. The media coverage was well organized by the Israeli government and afforded many reporters a glimpse of Israel they never knew existed – a country quietly going about its way in developing science, technology, medicine, literature, dance, drama, cooperative agricultural settlements such as Kibbutzim and Moshavim and even successfully revived its ancient language. One major item was censored, Israel's nuclear development efforts. They remain secret to this very day. By and large, it can be said that the international media treated Israel fairly and its image was positive. 6 In spite of these seeming normalcy, already in the early years of Israel, the heads of the Hasbara faced a major problem – how to portray Israel. Should they focus on a nation at war, a country still largely under siege, constantly involved in small border skirmishes with its neighbors. That would be helpful for the purposes of fund raising. The other option was to depict Israel as a normal nation, involved in a long and difficult process of nation building. Siege mentality would frighten potential immigrants, tourists and foreign investors. Portraying Israel as a nation at peace would not reflect reality. Israel's faces the same issue today in dealing with the threat of a nuclear Iran.

1967-1977

7 All this changed abruptly with the unexpected and unplanned Six Days War in June 1967. As a result, and at the time of waning colonialism, Israel was increasingly seen as an occupying power, ruling over millions of Palestinians, involved in building settlements on disputed land, engaged in a prolonged War of Attrition. From dealing with the Arab-Israel conflict in general, the focus was now on the Israel-Palestinian conflict and the emergence of Palestinian nationalism. A new generation of reporters, many of them grew up well after World War II, who knew little of the Holocaust, concentrated on depicting the plight of the occupied Palestinians. In Israel itself serious disagreements rose over its policies. There was no longer unanimity among the Mapai leadership. Prime Minister Meir, Defense Minister Dayan and Information Minister Galili (who was responsible for information in Israel alone) favored an activist policy of not yielding territory to the Arabs without the achievement of a full fledged peace treaty obtained as a result of direct negotiations. The Arab policy stressed three No's – no peace, no recognition and no negotiations with Israel. Foreign Minister Eban was far more conciliatory and felt Israel should make territorial concessions in advance of direct negotiations. Finance Minister Sapir wanted to return the territories even without peace. It can be safely said that the domestic and the international media focused mainly on the issue – the future of the territories. Israel's Hasbara officials could only explain the various approaches in the country to central issue and arrange for many points of view to be heard. They ranged for annexing the territories to returning them back to Jordan, Syria and Egypt even without a peace treaty. The Meir government saw the territories as bargaining chips for future negotiations with Arab countries and shunned any negotiations with the emerging Palestine Liberation Organization, seen as a terrorist group intent on destroying Israel. As a result, there was virtually no movement towards any political settlement of the conflict and Israel's image took a beating.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 167

8 Blame was placed at the door of the information agencies who were subjected to a number of inquiry commissions who drew up various recommendations to improve the situation. Few argued that Israel's policies were at the root of its problems and not the organizational structure and effectiveness of its Hasbara. By now new actors entered the field of information – a spokesman for the Defense Minister, a spokesman for the Prime Minister, a spokesman for the IDF military government in the territories under Israel's control, not to mention scores of others who sought to speak for Israel among them the Jewish Agency, the Histadrut trade union organization, various political parties and the many fund raising organizations. This resulted in much confusion as to who really speaks for Israel. From 1967 to 1970 there was also a government of national unity that compounded the problem, as it included for the first time Menahem Begin a strong supporter of the status quo and massive settlement in the territories. Ideas of setting up a separate ministry of information were vehemently opposed by Foreign Minister Eban who argued that overseas Hasbara was a central foreign ministry responsibility. 9 The Yom Kippur War demonstrated the confusion and lack of central direction in Israel's information efforts and led to additional inquiry committees that recommended once again centralizing the efforts under one roof – either a cabinet level ministry or a government authority. It was also realized that new technologies required new solutions. There was direct overseas dialing, fax machines were introduced and television satellite stations were also installed. The foreign press corps in Israel grew from some 50 to over 300 and the country became a major source of information. The focus of attention was now once again on the very legitimacy of Israel and its right to exist as a separate political, sovereign, Jewish and Zionist state. This became acute especially after the adoption of General Assembly Resolution 3379 in November 1975 equating Zionism with racism. The new Rabin government, that succeeded the Meir cabinet which resigned in April 1974, did set up for a brief time a separate Ministry of Information, but that did not resolve the problem as serious disagreements soon erupted between Prime Minister Rabin, Defense Minister Peres and Foreign Minister Allon. Once again, Israel did not speak in one voice. The ministry failed because the incumbent, Aharon Yariv, did not insist on centralizing all the information efforts under one roof, it was also poorly funded. But above all Prime Minister Rabin was not that keen on its existence and thought that overseas information should be under the Foreign Ministry. In spite of progress on the diplomatic front and the signing of two major agreements between Israel and Egypt (Separation of Forces in 1974 and an Interim Agreement in 1975) and a Separation of Forces agreement with Syria in 1974, there was no real progress towards broader peaceful relations with the Arab neighbors. More attention was devoted to domestic Israeli politics, settlements, corruption in high levels of government and a sense of a drifting Israel with no effective, visionary and imaginative leadership. 10 And yet, during that decade (1967-1977) Israel produced vast amount of information in the international media, far exceeding its size and/or the importance of the country. Israel became a big story in every respect. Why the focus on Israel, and not, for example, on the 22 Arab state members of the Arab League with their vast oil wealth and huge population? The columnist Tom Friedman may have given the right answer to this question. He once wrote that Israel's story in many respects is the tale of Western civilization, which is based on the Judeo-Christian traditions and ethics. These were

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 168

well understood in the in the West and Israel was expected to behave accordingly. It, too, sought to be Light unto the Nations. Israel therefore was measured in a different manner and yardsticks than the Arab states. When Israel is charged with what is deemed to be war crimes, it becomes the subject of international condemnation and subject to censure by the United Nations, the European Union and other international bodies. It is threatened with boycotts, both economic and academic. When Arabs commit the same crimes, as witnessed in the civil war raging in Syria since 2011, with the loss over 30,000 people mostly civilians, their actions are not criticized as Israel's would be. There is a well known saying: “When Arabs kill Arabs – no news; when Jews kill Arabs – that's news. No amount of positive Israeli information can overcome this dictum. From 1968 Israel started its own television broadcasts and now Israelis could see how others viewed them, and the interest in Hasbara intensified. 11 Another dilemma arose – most of the reporters and stringers covering Israel were Jews. Israelis expected them to be supportive and friendly. They themselves wanted to be seen as fair and honest irrespective of their religion. Their editors also wanted to appear as open minded and fair. This by and large hurt Israel's image. Israel's image was the victim of this anomalous situation.

1977-1991

12 The 1977 Knesset elections brought to power the Likud right wing nationalist party headed by Menahem Begin, for years considered as hawkish. He appointed Moshe Dayan as his foreign minister. Both leaders made no efforts to create a separation information body. Suddenly, on 19 November 1977 Israel's and the Middle East history changed dramatically when Egyptian President Anwar Sadat arrived in Jerusalem for a two days visit. That brought to Jerusalem over 1200 reporters from around the world, including some of the most prominent journalists. They focused predominantly on Sadat's vision and less on what was perceived as Begin's unimaginative response. The foreign, mostly American media played a major role, when, for example, Begin and Sadat were interviewed separately albeit on one screen by the stars of the three leading American networks. Sadat, a master of drama, won the battle for the American media (and Congress and the American Jewish Community) for what was perceived as his sincerity and broad vision. Attention was now on the evolution of the peace process, and when it foundered in the course of 1978, Begin was blamed for much of the failure. Within several weeks after Sadat's visit, Begin appeared to have lost the support of the American media, which was also fed by a hostile Carter Administration. Growing doubts in Israel about Begin's intents and sincerity that prompted, among other things, the creation of the Peace Now Movement, also made it difficult for those responsible for information to make headway. Some of Begin's closest advisers on Hasbara were totally opposed to making territorial concessions to Egypt in return for peace. The singing of the Camp David Framework Agreements in September 1978 came as a shock to Israelis and Egyptians. It was negotiated in total secrecy and led for the first time in Israel's history to the signing of a peace treaty (with Egypt in March 1979). Begin's spokesman had a major problem explaining why members of Begin's own party either voted against or abstained in the Knesset vote on adopting the Camp David Accords and it was passed only because the Labor Party voted in favor.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 169

13 But Israel's image problems did not improve overnight. Focus was now on settlement activities and the growing realization stressed by Begin that he gave up all of Sinai for peace with Egypt and in order to retain the West Bank. Between 1979 and 1982 focus was on the implementation of the Egypt-Israel peace treaty and from June 1982 on the first war in Lebanon, a war of choice to use Begins description. That war split Israeli society and this was reflected in the dispatches of the foreign media. Initial restrictions by the IDF on the coverage of that war from the Israeli side, meant that the story was sent by reporters Based in Beirut, and represented the Arab side. New technologies now included cellular phones and greater use of TV satellite transmissions which resulted in instant access in any place on earth. 14 When Begin resigned in August 1983 he was succeeded by Yitzhak Shamir who espoused a policy of strict adherence to the status quo. There was no progress on the Israel-Palestinian track and that inevitably led to the outbreak of the first Palestinian Intifadah (shaking off) in December 1987. That uprising was a disaster for Israel's Hasbara. The Israeli response was not coordinated, once again Israel spoke with three voices – that of Prime Minister Shamir, Foreign Minister Peres and Defense Minister Rabin, all members of a rotating national unity cabinet that existed from m1984 to 1990. The government of Israel seemingly lost control over the coverage of the uprising in which the Palestinians were far more adept at dealing with the foreign media. 15 One event in 1991 helped Israel's image – the first Gulf War. The country came under attack by Scud missiles fired from Iraq, Prime Minister Shamir wisely decided to accede to the American demand and refrain from an Israeli military involvement. Israel was once again portrayed as a victim of Arab aggression who bowed to American and international pressure and kept out of the war. The war led directly to an Arab-Israeli peace conference in Madrid, with the participation of the two super powers, the European Union, the Gulf States and above all Israel, Syria, Lebanon, Egypt and a Jordanian-Palestinian delegation. The chief Israeli spokesman was Benjamin Netanyahu who shone as one who understood the media, especially television, its needs, requirements and deadlines. He became the Israeli information star, and was not eclipsed even by the Palestinian star Hanan Ashrawi. The very fact that five Arab states were sitting and negotiating with Israel publicly helped improve Israel's image.

1991-1996

16 The years 1992-1996 were marked by the Oslo process whereby Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization negotiated and signed in Washington in September 1993 the Declaration of Principles. This time a new Israeli government headed by Rabin, with Peres as his foreign minister, was able to negotiate and deliver an agreement with its arch enemy Yasser Arafat head of the PLO. Israel's image soared. Peres spoke of a new Middle East and even suggested downgrading the Hasbara effort in favor of concentrating on economic ties. Once again it was seen that when Israel pursues a policy deemed conciliatory that has the support of the international community, there is no need for a Ministry of Information or a central Information Authority. The deeds speak for themselves and those responsible for Hasbara basically have to make sure the reporters cover the events, among them the singing of the Israel-Jordan Peace Treaty in October 1994 and the Israel-PLO Interim Agreement in September 1995. But like Begin's problem in 1978, Rabin's spokesmen had much difficulty in explaining why the

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 170

Israel-PLO Interim Agreement with the PLO was adopted by the Knesset in September 1995 by a majority of one.

17 By then brand new technologies were at the disposal of the media – internet, emails, cellular phones and camcords. This meant that Israeli military censorship lost its effectiveness. The number of the foreign press corps in Israel and the Palestinian territories grew vastly. That now included scores of Palestinians acting as stringers and resource persons for the Israel based correspondents using camcords and cell phones as their main tools. Speed was now of essence. Israel was also helped very much by a very friendly Clinton Administration.

1996 to the present

18 All this came to an abrupt end when Rabin was assassinated on 4 November 1995.

19 The first Netanyahu government decided not to abrogate the Oslo agreements but effectively to slow down the process. Very little progress was achieved by Netanyahu during his first term as Prime Minister. Among them the withdrawal from Hebron in early 1997 and the beginning of some withdrawal in the West Bank in late 1998 that brought down his government. Serious disagreements with his foreign ministers David Levy and later Ariel Sharon were evident and did not help matters. Prime Minister Barak started negotiations with Syria that eventually failed, withdrew the IDF from Lebanon and made unexpected offers to Arafat in their July 2000 Camp David summit. But Arafat failed to respond mainly on the issues of Jerusalem, Palestinian refugees and end of conflict clause. The failure of Camp David summit was followed once again by the second Intifadah which this time was lethal, costing the lives of some 1400 Israelis. Since Barak seemed to have failed to stem the uprising, he lost the support of his loose coalition and resigned. He was succeeded by Ariel Sharon who put down the uprising by force in a series of military operations. Their success was noticeable, but the cost in terms of Israel's image was hard to swallow. Israel was accused of committing war crimes and violating the various Geneva Conventions applying to occupied territories. Sharon paid little attention to Israel's image. In this respect he followed his mentor Ben Gurion. He was far more interested in improving ties with the Bush Administration, in which he succeeded, that with any dramatic moves. But he, too, realized that some drama was needed and ordered the withdrawal of all Israeli presence from the Gaza Strip and small parts of the West Bank. Once again Israel was praised, but the cost in terms of dissent in Israeli society and politics was vast. In early 2006 Sharon suffered a stroke from which he did not recover. 20 His successor Ehud Olmert launched a war against Lebanon in the summer of 2006 and once again serious public relations errors were evident. The media was not taken to the fighting area, it had to rely on IDF briefings and the entire information effort was harshly criticized by a commission of inquiry that followed the war. 21 In the past twenty years there have been few changes in Israel's image. There are many reasons for that. Among them, growing fatigue with the Arab-Israel conflict, the rise of a new generation that did not know the Holocaust, and for whom Israel has always been there and was a living fact. It was clear that Israel did not solve the “Jewish Problem” or help eradicate anti-Semitism. The opposite is true. Serious misgivings in Israel over the country's policies were also reflected in the reporting of the foreign

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 171

press corps whose numbers now stands at some 350 (print, radio, television). There has been little effort on the part of the first Netanyahu government, the Barak government (1999-2001), the Sharon government (2001-2006), the Olmert Government (2006-2009) and the second Netanyahu Government (2009-2013) to make major structural changes in Israel's information apparatus. The key change was to create in 2009 a Ministry for Public Diplomacy which was tacked onto the Ministry for Diaspora Affairs. 22 The main flaws of Israel's information efforts remain to this very day. They include multiplicity of agencies dealing with the foreign media, chief among them the National Information Headquarters centered in the Prime Minister's Office and directly under the guidance of the Prime Minister. That has eclipsed the Public Diplomacy Ministry whose chief is not even a member of the inner cabinet. The Foreign Ministry has effectively been frozen out of the international Hasbara effort, partly because the minister since 2009 (Avigdor Lieberman) has come out openly against the policies of Prime Minister Netanyahu and was not even aware that secret indirect negotiations were taking place in 2010 and 2011 between Netanyahu and Defense Minister Barak and Bashar el Assad in Syria on the other. Two events hurt Israel's image badly – one was the Second War in Lebanon in July – August 2006 and the second Operation Cast Lead in Gaza in December 2008-January 2009. Serious differences of opinions erupted between Prime Minister Olmert and Foreign Minister Livni during the Second War in Lebanon. In Gaza, the foreign media was not allowed into the strip for many days causing false information to emerge from there that could not be verified. One result of the war was the issuing of the Goldstone Report that accused Israel of war crimes. In the field of technology the 21st century witnessed the emergence of the social media in the shape of Facebook, Twitter and various web blogs that became a major source of information and could in no way be controlled. No wonder that repeated State Comptroller reports dealing with Hasbara found for a constant lack of an overall strategic public relations conception and objective, lack of coordination between the many organizations and very modest funding.

Conclusion

23 It is almost impossible not to agree with Abba Eban who in addressing the Knesset in December 1973 said that he felt a “sense of intellectual frustration when the issue of how the government communications is taken out of the context of the political reality. Because what really affects our image at the end of the day is not the skill of the policy advocate; it's not the salesman, nor the wrapper, but the goods themselves that matter… Israel's image is not a product solely of the words its diplomats use: it is a product of the entirety of Israel's reality as seen from the outside. Her position, style, atmosphere, the way her society conducts itself, her approach to peace, to relations with neighboring countries, her position on universal human values, her view of her own and the world's culture and heritage – all these are taken into account”. Eban was absolutely right when he argued that Israel's image is not made by official representatives or ministers, but by the totality of factors. His words ring true to this very day.

24 He omitted to mention two other factors that harmed attempts at centralized government guided information structure. The first was a free press in Israel, protected by law and by the Supreme Court. The Israeli media has been notably critical of all of

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 172

Israel's governments. It serves as a major source for the foreign press corps in Jerusalem, which is still the largest in the Middle East. It was very difficult to fault foreign correspondents in Israel for reports that were based on reports in the Israeli media. The second factor is Israeli democracy. This means that there is access to most events, getting government accreditation is easy, and above all in a country where there are at least ten political parties at any given time, there are at least ten views. This may be confusing but Israel prides itself on its democracy which admittedly, makes it impossible to control the media, both domestic and foreign. Unlike Arab states or other non-democratic societies, where the government control both information and accessibility to events, in Israel the press can operate freely with minimal restrictions, with the exception maybe during military operations such as the war in Lebanon or in Gaza. The coalition make up of all of Israel's governments also means that it cannot speak in one voice. 25 In the battle between freedom of the press, democracy and the right to know, against information convenience and control of the press for the purpose of gaining a better image, the choice is obvious – democracy and free press.

ABSTRACTS

Israel's public diplomacy has been the subject of much abuse and vilification both in Israel and abroad. This is largely due to the misunderstanding between policies and the marketing of those policies. Critics of Israel's Hasbara efforts usually argue that poor funding, organizational infighting, multiplicity of bodies dealing with Hasbara, low level and quality of officials are responsible for Israel's poor image mainly in Western countries. They fail to look at the broader picture in which information is a supporting action, designed to assist the formulation and implementation of a policy by marketing it properly. The fact remains that when Israel pursued what was seen as a positive policy, signed peace treaties and made territorial concessions, its image improved dramatically. When it adhered to a policy of immobilism its image plunged. The paper describes the evolution of Israel's public diplomacy since 1948.

La diplomatie publique d'Israël a été souvent vilipendée en Israël et à l'étranger. Ceci est largement dû à une différence entre la politique et le marketing de la politique. Les critiques de la hasbara israélienne soutiennent généralement que le maigre financement, les luttes intestines et la multiplicité des organisations responsables, le faible niveau professionnel sont responsables de la médiocre image d'Israël, surtout dans les pays occidentaux. Ils n'élargissent pas leur perspective jusqu'à voir que l'information soutient l'action, afin d'aider à formuler et à mettre en œuvre une politique par un marketing adéquat. Il demeure que lorsqu'Israël a poursuivi une politique positive, signé des traités de paix, fait des concessions, son image s'est considérablement améliorée. Quand le pays a choisi l'immobilisme, l'image s'est dégradée. Cet article décrit l'évolution de la diplomatie publique israélienne depuis 1948.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 173

INDEX

Keywords: Hasbara, information, press corps, public diplomacy, propaganda

AUTHOR

MERON MEDZINI

Meron Medzini is a visiting professor of political science at the Rothberg International School of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. He holds a Ph.D from Harvard and served as director of the Israel Government Press Office in Jerusalem from 1962 to 1978, in that capacity as ex-officio spokesman for the bureaus of Prime Ministers Eshkol, Meir and Rabin. He is the author of six books and scores of articles. His book Golda - A Political Biography won the Prime Minister's Prize in 2010.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 174

Varias

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 175

Les philosophes dans la prophétologie sunnite

Nadjet Zouggar

Introduction

1 Dans la théologie de l’islam sunnite, l’institution prophétique est l’objet d’un traité à part entière intitulé nubuwwât que l’on traduit ici par prophétologie. Ce traité aborde un ensemble de questions classiques telles que : la définition du prophétisme ; la possibilité ou la nécessité de son existence ; les démonstrations de son existence ; les modes par lesquels il opère, etc.

2 Que ce soit sous sa forme rationaliste (le kalâm) ou littéraliste (al-aqîda) cette théologie a pris corps en réaction aux doctrines et systèmes de pensée préexistants et concurrents, internes ou externes à l’islam. De fait, les théologiens de l’islam sont mus par la nécessité de poser les limites de la communauté islamique en désignant les hérésies, ces doctrines disqualifiantes, adoptées par des groupes ou plus rarement des individus qui ne sauraient être comptés parmi les partisans de la vérité (ahl al-haqq). Mais si l’objectif premier de leurs traités est d’établir une doxographie, c’est-à-dire, d’exposer les opinions qui forment le credo de l’islam, la critique des religions ou doctrines hérétiques y est si déterminante qu’on les a également qualifiés d’hérésiologies1. 3 Partant, si l’on veut saisir les origines d’une doctrine enseignée dans cette théologie, il est nécessaire d’en explorer la portée défensive ou polémique. C’est une recherche que nous avons accomplie dans le cadre de notre thèse de doctorat sur la prophétologie sunnite. Le présent article faisant suite à cette recherche, nous y exposons le discours de cinq théologiens des plus influents du sunnisme, au sujet des philosophes de l’islam et de leurs conceptions de l’institution prophétique. Ces conceptions ayant été très controversées dans les milieux théologiens, elles ont fortement déterminé l’histoire de la philosophie dans la cité islamique.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 176

Barâhima, Libres penseurs et falâsifa : une typologie de la négation du fait prophétique

4 La négation de la mission prophétique de Muhammad a nourri toute une littérature dont les traités portent des titres variant autour de l’idée de « Preuves de l’établissement du prophétisme » (Dalâ’il al-nubuwwa). Il est difficile de dégager un schéma précis de ces traités tant ils varient en fonction de l’école de pensée des différents auteurs qui s’y sont essayés ; ils comportent généralement deux parties : la première porte sur la justification de l’existence des prophètes et répond à tous les négateurs du fait prophétique ; la seconde, souvent plus développée, est consacrée à la justification de la mission de Muhammad et s’adresse aux adeptes des religions bibliques pour lesquels l’existence des prophètes est déjà établie.

Les barâhima

5 Les spécialistes sont en désaccord sur l’origine de ce groupe2 ; Sarah Stroumsa, qui en parle dans son ouvrage majeur sur la libre pensée dans l’islam médiéval, les considère comme un mythe élaboré par l’hérésiologie musulmane pour symboliser le rejet de la prophétie3. Deux hypothèses sont envisageables les concernant : la première est que leur existence soit une pure invention ; la seconde est que le groupe ait réellement existé alors que leur doctrine serait une élaboration postérieure les érigeant en archétype de la négation de la prophétie. Quoi qu’il en soit, ils sont systématiquement mis en scène par les théologiens dès qu’il s’agit d’illustrer les objections rationalistes à la réalité de l’envoi de prophètes-législateurs par Dieu. Les barâhima sont le plus souvent décrits comme des déistes rejetant toute médiation prophétique entre Dieu et ses créatures et observant volontiers des rites s’ils sont acceptables par leur éthique. Et les arguments rationnels qui leur sont attribués convergent vers l’idée de souveraineté de la raison humaine comme intermédiaire entre Dieu et l’homme.

Les libres penseurs

6 Nous empruntons l’expression « libres-penseurs » à Sarah Stroumsa qui a consacré un ouvrage à définir cette catégorie et en défendre la réalité. Ce concept est bien commode en ce qu’il permet d’appréhender au même titre des auteurs d’époques et d’horizons différents, partant uniquement de leur réfutation de la validité du fait prophétique, même si sa pertinence ne fait pas l’unanimité chez les spécialistes.

7 S. Stroumsa soutient que la libre pensée est un phénomène typiquement musulman, une hérésie dont le caractère particulier est développé en réponse à la centralité du concept de prophétie dans cette religion. D’après cette auteure, il n’y a pas d’athéisme en islam, il n’y a que des postures qui tendent vers cela, la libre pensée étant la forme particulière de non-croyance engendrée par cette religion. 8 Il est important de noter que sa thèse s’appuie principalement sur l’ouvrage d’hérésiographie du théologien ash‘arite al-Shahrastânî (m. 1153) Kitâb al-milal wa-l- nihal (Le livre des religions et des sectes) qui établit une corrélation entre la négation du prophétisme et l’autorité de l’opinion personnelle ou de la raison. Ce traité est divisé en deux parties, la première expose les doctrines des religions révélées : d’une part, l’islam et ses 73 sectes et de l’autre, le judaïsme, le christianisme, le mazdéisme et le dualisme.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 177

La deuxième partie aborde les tenants de doctrines arbitraires (ahl al-ahwâ’ wa-l-nihal) et comprend les religions indiennes, les sabéens, les arabes de l’anté-islam et les philosophes ; le dénominateur commun de ces groupes étant de suivre des traditions qui ne découlent pas d’une révélation ; Shahrastânî les qualifie de ahl al-istibdâd bi-al- ra’y, ce qui signifie les tenants de l’utilisation exclusive de l’opinion personnelle. D. Gimaret et G. Monnot qui ont traduit l’œuvre de Shahrastânî ont interprété cette expression par « libre pensée », ouvrant ainsi la voie à S. Stroumsa4. 9 Selon Shahrastânî, le premier à avoir adopté cette attitude est Iblîs5 qui a préféré suivre sa propre opinion plutôt que d’obéir au commandement divin, l’hérésiographe le qualifiera de prototype du libre penseur6. Sa définition des libres-penseurs englobe tous les négateurs des prophéties, qui à l’instar des philosophes, des Sabéens et des barâhima , n’admettent pas de lois révélées (sharâ’i‘) mais établissent des règles fondées sur la raison (hudûd ‘aqliyya) telles qu’en les observant il leur soit possible de vivre en société7. 10 Dans la pensée islamique, les deux personnages qui semblent avoir fortement marqué les consciences au regard de la négation du prophétisme sont Ibn al-Rawandî (m. entre 864 et 912) et le philosophe Abû Zakariyya al-Râzî, le Rhazès de latins (m. 925 ou 932)8. 11 Concernant Ibn al-Rawandî, peu de ses ouvrages ont survécu et les informations recueillies dans les sources musulmanes sont contradictoires ; il y a donc des pans entiers d’inconnu sur son parcours intellectuel. Nombreuses sont les études qui ont tenté d’éclaircir le mystère en demeurant toutefois en terrain hypothétique, aboutissant elles aussi à des vues contradictoires9. Comme l’indique S. Stroumsa, la plupart des sources concordent toutefois à dire qu’Ibn al-Rawandî a consacré un ouvrage, le Kitâb al-Zummrud, à la réfutation du prophétisme10. 12 Quant à Abû Zakkariyya al-Râzî, son mépris pour l’institution prophétique est relaté dans un ouvrage synthétisant le débat public qu’il eut avec son homonyme, le théologien ismaélien Abû Hâtim al-Râzî à Rayy (m. 934)11. Ce dernier laisse entendre que les arguments de Abû Zakariyya sont extraits de l’un de ses ouvrages probablement intitulé Kitâb makhâriq al-anbiyya’ ( Le livre des subterfuges des prophètes) dont seuls quelques fragments ont survécus12.

Les falâsifa

13 Dans la pensée islamique, le vocable falâsifa (sing. faylasûf) dérive du grec et désigne aussi bien les anciens, c’est-à-dire, les philosophes grecs, que leurs héritiers en terre d’Islam, tels al-Kindî (m. 873), al-Fârâbî (m. 950), Avicenne (m. 1037) et Averroès (m. 1198) 13.

14 Nous avons déjà évoqué deux catégories associées à la posture de négation du prophétisme : les libres-penseurs et les barâhima, auxquels la typologie de S. Stroumsa, qui rappelons-le s’inspire du Livre de religions et des sectes de Shahrastânî, associe les dahriyya (philosophes matérialistes ou éternistes) 14. Lorsqu’elle tente d’établir l’existence d’une forme d’hérésie spécifique à l’islam et qui procède non pas de l’athéisme mais du rejet du prophétisme, S. Stroumsa mentionne que les falâsifa furent épargnés de l’accusation de négation du prophétisme, et par là même, de libre pensée. Pour étayer son point de vue, elle avance qu’en incluant le fait prophétique à son système philosophique par une assimilation du philosophe roi de Platon au prophète de l’islam, le philosophe Fârâbî a évité que les falâsifa figurent parmi les négateurs du prophétisme15.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 178

15 Il semblerait pourtant que S. Stroumsa ait sous-estimé la critique dont font l’objet les falâsifa dans la prophétologie sunnite. Et comme nous allons le voir à partir d’un certain nombre de textes déterminants, ces philosophes seront accusés non seulement de malmener l’institution prophétique, en ne respectant pas l’autorité du prophète comme guide suprême vers le salut dans les deux mondes, mais aussi de dissimuler leur non croyance dans le caractère exclusif de la révélation divine comme voie d’accès au bonheur. 16 Avant d’aborder ces textes, précisons que nous distinguons deux genres d’écrits susceptibles de formuler des critiques à l’encontre de la prophétologie des falâsifa. Les premiers ont pour objet de réfuter la philosophie, comme le Tahafut al-falâsifa de Ghazâlî ou le Kitâb al-Musâra‘a de Shahrastâni 16, auxquels nous associons les ouvrages d’hérésiologie qui envisagent les philosophes comme une catégorie politico-religieuse. Le second genre d’ouvrage a pour objet l’établissement du fait prophétique et formule des critiques visant à défendre cette institution contre les conception jugées hérétiques et a fortiori contre les négateurs, comme c’est le cas des traités de kalâm ou de Dalâ’il al- nubuwwa.

Al-Mâwardî (m. 1058)

17 Théologien juriste shâfi‘ite de grande classe, mort à Baghdad en 1058, Mâwardî s’est illustré dans le domaine de la théorie politique dont il est considéré comme le fondateur au sein de l’islam. Sous les règnes des califes abbassides al-Qâdir (r. 363/974-381/991) et al-Qâ’im (r. 381/991-422/1031) il occupa la fonction de juge suprême (qâdî al-qudât) et fit montre d’un grand engagement politique envers le pouvoir en place. Outre son volumineux traité de fiqh intitulé al-hâwî les ouvrages de Mâwardî qui nous sont parvenus portent principalement sur l’éthique et la politique. Ses positions rationalistes en matière de théologie lui ont valu d’être blâmé et soupçonné d’appartenir secrètement au courant mu‘tazilite.

18 Le seul traité de théologie qu’on lui connaisse s’intitule A‘lâm al-nubuwwa (Les preuves de la validité du prophétisme) et s’inscrit dans le genre de traité du même nom. 19 Conformément à la méthode des théologiens spéculatifs, l’ouvrage commence par une réflexion sur les canaux de la connaissance dont l’objet est de classifier les différents arguments invoqués dans la démonstration17. Arrivé au chapitre consacré à la démonstration de l’existence des prophètes, l’auteur entreprend une énumération des diverses catégories de négateurs du prophétisme ; la première catégorie est celle des dahriyya (éternistes) qui prônent l’éternité du monde et «nient l’existence de Dieu et donc celle de ses prophètes ».18 La deuxième est celle des barâhima ; la troisième renvoie aux philosophes qui sont décrits en ces termes : Le troisième type [de négateurs] sont des falâsifa qui ne montrent pas ouvertement qu’ils invalident [l’existence] du prophétisme alors qu’ils l’invalident selon ce que révèle l’examen de leurs écrits. Parce qu’ils disent que les divinalia (al-‘ulûm al- rabbaniya) [s’obtiennent] après le perfectionnement des sciences disciplinaires (al-‘ulûm al-riyâdiyya) telles que la philosophie et la géométrie. Elles [les divinalia] sont établies par celui dont la discipline a atteint la perfection s’il y est prédisposé 19. 20 Selon Mâwardî, ces philosophes prétendent donc pouvoir accéder à des connaissances que la croyance religieuse n’attribue qu’aux prophètes. Même si les atteintes qu’ils

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 179

portent à l’institution prophétique ne sont perceptibles qu’à travers l’herméneutique, ici, les falâsifa se voient attribuer une posture de négation. Cependant, il est bien question d’un art d’écrire chez ces derniers qui les différencie des autres négateurs. Cette accusation de dissimuler leurs véritables croyances et d’afficher leur conformité avec le dogme religieux constitue un lieu commun de la critique antiphilosophique.

Al-Shahrastânî (m. 1153)

21 Théologien et historien des religions Persan né en 1086-7 dans le Khorasan et mort en 1153, Shahrastânî est une figure majeure de l’école ash‘arite. Ses biographes rapportent son inclination pour la spéculation philosophique alors que ses ouvrages qui nous sont parvenus sont plutôt des réfutations de la philosophie. Eu égard à certains aspects de sa pensée ses contemporains l’avaient accusé d’adhérer secrètement au shi‘isme ismaélien20.

22 Le livre que nous allons utiliser est celui-là même qui a servi de point de départ à S. Stroumsa dans sa thèse sur la libre pensée en l’islam. Il s’agit d’un traité d’hérésiololgie qui a marqué l’histoire de la discipline tant par l’ampleur du travail qui y est fourni que par la neutralité remarquable qui le caractérise. 23 Avant de consulter Shahrastânî, arrêtons-nous sur l’étude que Jean Jolivet a consacré aux « philosophes de Shahrastânî »21. Cette étude met en évidence la volonté de l’hérésiographe d’établir un rapprochement historique et doctrinal entre les prophètes et une catégorie abordée dans la deuxième partie du livre, à savoir « Les sept piliers de la sagesse », nommément : Thalès ; Anaxagore ; Anaximène ; Empédocle ; Pythagore ; Socrate ; Platon. Outre le fait que cette liste ne correspond pas aux sept sages de la tradition grecque, chacun des sages de Shahrastânî se voit attribuer des affinités avec un prophète coranique. On y lit par exemple que « Pythagore fut contemporain de Salomon et tira sa sagesse de « la mine de la prophétie ». Ainsi, par émulation, la doctrine de la prophétie aurait circulé à travers Socrate et Platon en s’atténuant progressivement jusqu’à Aristote qui en est exclu et que l’hérésiographe rattache à une sous-section complètement différente de celle des sept sages22. 24 Selon Jolivet, l’intention de Shahrastânî est d’esquisser une comparaison des deux groupes historiques que sont les philosophes et les prophètes. Et sur le traitement du sous-groupe des philosophes de l’islam dans lequel on retrouve seulement Avicenne, Jolivet écrit : D’un point de vue religieux nous dirons que ce musulman de nation [Avicenne] renonce à son Livre pour suivre un païen [Aristote] qui était déjà loin de la sagesse quasi prophétique des premiers sages grecs : c’est donc à juste titre qu’il est placé immédiatement avant les Arabes de la Jâhiliyya et les Brahmanes, qui n’ont qu’un rapport vague ou même inexistant avec la prophétie […] Évoquer dans la Musâra‘a et la Nihâya les piliers de la sagesse pour les opposer à « certains philosophes de l’Islam » et notamment Ibn Sîna, c’est demander le renfort de contemporains et disciples des anciens prophètes contre des modernes qui préfèrent l’enseignement d’Aristote à celui du Coran23. 25 Voyons maintenant ce qu’écrit Shahrastânî dans la deuxième partie de son Livre des religions et des sectes au sujet des philosophes métaphysiciens ( ilâhiyyûn) qui sont évoqués après les éternistes (dahriyyûn) : D’autres ont une certaine culture. Ils s’élèvent au-dessus du sensible et reconnaissent l’existence de l’intelligible. Mais ils n’admettent ni sanctions ni

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 180

prescriptions, ni loi [révélée], ni soumission. Ils pensent que, par la saisie de l’intelligible et l’affirmation que le monde a eu un commencement et doit retourner [à Dieu], ils ont atteint la perfection demandée à leur espèce : leur bonheur serait donc à la mesure de leur compréhension et de leur science, leur malheur serait à la mesure de leur sottise et de leur ignorance. Ce sont les philosophes métaphysiciens.

Les lois et leurs auteurs sont utiles, disent-ils, pour les gens ordinaires. Sanctions et prescriptions, licite et interdit, ce sont choses [de droit] positif. Les auteurs des Lois sont des hommes doués de sagesse pratique, et qui sont parfois assistés par le donateur des formes pour poser des prescriptions, établir le licite et l’interdit, dans l’intérêt des hommes et pour la prospérité des pays. Mais ce que [les prophètes] rapportent sur telle ou telle réalité du monde des êtres spirituels (comme les anges, le Siège souverain, le Trône, la Table gardée, le Calame), ce ne sont pour ces philosophes que des réalités intelligibles qu’on a exprimées sous des formes corporelles imaginaires. De même que les [les prophètes] rapportent sur les circonstances du Retour [à Dieu], c’est-à-dire sur le Jardin [paradisiaque] et le feu [infernal]. Palais, canaux d’irrigation, oiseaux et fruits dans le jardin ne sont rien d’autre qu’une stimulation des gens ordinaires à désirer ce vers quoi penche leur nature ; chaînes et carcans ; opprobre et châtiment exemplaire dans le Feu ne sont rien d’autre qu’une stimulation des gens ordinaires à craindre ce que leur nature a en horreur. C’est la seule explication : car on ne peut concevoir de figures ni de formes corporelles dans le monde supérieur. C’est là ce que [les philosophes] pensent de mieux sur les prophètes (que le salut soit sur eux !). Je ne parle pas ici de ceux qui ont tiré leurs connaissances de la Niche de la Prophétie, mais seulement des [philosophes] de l’Antiquité ; dahriyya, … [wa-al- hashîshiyya]24, physiciens, métaphysiciens. Leur jugement les a égarés, ils se sont isolés dans leurs doctrines arbitraires et leurs innovations blâmables » 25. 26 Shahrastânî parle manifestement de philosophes qui vivent en contexte islamique puisque les catégories religieuses dont ces derniers nieraient la réalité, en les considérant comme un discours poétique, ont bien trait à cette religion. Ici le prophétisme n’est pas totalement invalidé, mais il ne serait valable que pour la multitude. Notons que certains philosophes semblent échapper au verdict en trouvant grâce aux yeux de l’auteur26.

Al-Ghazâlî (m. 1111)

27 Théologien ash‘arite et juriste shâfi‘ite abû Hâmid al-Ghazâlî est une figure éminente de la pensée islamique. Bien que fortement influencé par les écrits d’Avicenne, il est considéré comme un pourfendeur de la philosophie et son nom est incontournable lorsque est abordée la question du statut de la philosophie au regard de la religion islamique.

28 Né en 1059 à Tus, en Iran, celui que la postérité surnommera « La Preuve de l’islam » (hujjat al-islâm) a fourni la première réfutation systématique de la falsafa à travers son célèbre Tahâfut al-falâsifa, alors même que son rationalisme et son inclination pour la philosophie d’Avicenne lui avaient valu d’être critiqué comme partie prenante de celle- ci. Beaucoup de chercheurs ont essayé d’élucider la complexité de sa pensée dans laquelle demeurent encore des zones d’ombre. 29 Dans son ouvrage autobiographique retraçant son parcours intellectuel al-Munqidh min al-dalâl, Ghazâlî raconte ses premiers pas vers l’étude de la philosophie en précisant que son intérêt pour cette école tenait avant tout d’une volonté de mettre en lumière son caractère délétère. Partant du principe qu’avant de critiquer quelque discipline que ce

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 181

soit il convient d’abord d’en connaître les arcanes ; il se raconte ainsi étudiant la philosophie péripatéticienne, sans l’aide d’un maître, durant son temps de loisir27. 30 C’est donc en réponse aux falâsifa qu’il dit avoir composé le Tahâfut al-falâsifa, qui réfute vingt de leurs doctrines parmi lesquelles trois imposent, selon son jugement, l’anathème : La négation de la résurrection des corps ; la négation de la connaissance des particuliers par Dieu ; l’éternité du monde ; quant aux dix-sept autres questions, elles relèveraient de l’innovation blâmable28. 31 Au dire de Ghazâlî les Divinalia est le domaine dans lequel les philosophes ont fait le plus d’erreurs. Il leur reproche d’avoir voulu dissimuler leurs opinions hérétiques en meublant leur discours de catégories religieuses. Ainsi, selon lui, à force de mélanger leur discours avec ceux des prophètes et des penseurs mystiques, les philosophes ont provoqué des désastres qui se répercutent tant sur les adeptes de la philosophie que ses adversaires. 32 À la fin de l’ouvrage, lorsqu’il explique les raisons qui l’ont fait revenir à l’enseignement après une trêve de dix années, Ghazâlî révèle l’importance que revêt la croyance dans le prophétisme au sein de l’épistémologie de l’islam : J’ai constaté un attiédissement des croyances liées au principe de la prophétie, à sa réalité, et à la pratique de ce qu’elle prescrit. J’ai noté combien cela est répandu parmi les êtres humains. J’ai réfléchi aux causes de cette tiédeur et de l’affaiblissement de la foi, elles sont au nombre de quatre : Les philosophes, les mystiques, les bâtinites, et les savants illustres29. (…) Le cinquième [i.e. le philosophe] me dit : Je n’agis pas par simple conformisme. Mais j’ai étudié la philosophie et perçu la réalité de la prophétie. Or, elle se ramène à la sagesse et au bénéfice [de la multitude]. Les pratiques cultuelles qu’elle recommande ont pour unique objet de discipliner le commun des hommes, de les empêcher de s’entre-tuer, de se quereller et de s’abandonner à leurs désirs. Seulement, moi, je ne suis pas un quelconque ignorant, pour me plier aux obligations légales. Je suis plutôt un sage, qui se fie à la sagesse qui fait de moi un [homme] clairvoyant et libéré du conformisme! Tel est le summum de la foi pour ceux qui ont appris la philosophie des divins et étudié dans les livres d’Avicenne et d’al-Fârâbî. L’islam n’est plus pour eux qu’une parure extérieure ! Peut-être s’en trouve-t-il, parmi eux, qui lisent le Coran, assistent aux communions et aux prières et exaltent la Loi révélée. Pourtant, ils continuent à boire du vin et à commettre d’autres sortes de pêchés et de débauches. Si on leur demandait :« à quoi bon faire sa prière, puisque la prophétie est fausse ? » Ils répondraient sans doute : « C’est une bonne gymnastique, une coutume locale, et c’est utile à la protection des vies et biens » 30. 33 Par ailleurs, dans une étude portant sur l’argumentation mise en œuvre par Ghazâlî contre les falâsifa dans son célèbre Tahâfut al-falâsifa, F. Griffel attire l’attention sur un autre ouvrage de Ghazâlî consacré à la réfutation des ismaéliens, le Fadâ’ih al-bâtiniyya wa-fadâ’il al-mustazhiriyya, plus connu sous le titre de al-Mustazhirî et qui selon l’islamologue, est étroitement lié à la critique des philosophes.31

34 Ghazâlî y porte en effet des attaques contre la prophétologie d’Avicenne. Certes, il n’en condamne pas tous les aspects mais il fustige en particulier sa portée sociopolitique.32 Notamment l’idée que le prophète s’adresse à la multitude (‘awâmm) avec un discours imagé. Une multitude incapable d’entendre la vérité sur les choses invisibles de sorte que la révélation ne bénéficierait qu’à elle seule. Alors même que les philosophes ne tireraient aucun profit de ce qu’enseigne la révélation, car ils le découvriraient d’eux- mêmes par le biais de la démonstration (al-burhân).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 182

35 Selon Ghazâlî, bien que ses auteurs la justifient par une quête du bien commun (maslaha), cette théorie dissimule en réalité une non adhésion à ce que Dieu aurait transmis par la voix de son prophète. Il condamne donc cette vision de la révélation puisqu’elle sous-tend que celle-ci est certes bénéfique mais ne correspond pas à la vérité absolue. 36 Et étant donné que la vérité est la première revendication de la révélation, cette vision des choses suppose une accusation implicite de mensonge envers le porteur de cette révélation. L’accusation de mensonge ou de ne pas dire la vérité (takdhîb) est opposée à l’assentiment, c’est-à-dire, la croyance dans la véracité des prophètes et le caractère véridique de leur révélation. Après une longue délibération, Ghazâlî statue sur l’impiété (kufr) des tenants de cette vision politique de la prophétie.33

Ibn al-Jawzî (m. 1201)

37 Abû al-Faraj Ibn al-Jawzî est un théologien, historien et traditionniste d’obédience hanbalite né entre 1112 et 1114 à Baghdad. Issu d’une famille fort aisée, il fut un l’un des auteurs les plus prolixes de l’Islam. Largement diffusée dans le monde musulman, son œuvre est aujourd’hui très en vogue dans les milieux salafites contemporains.

38 Dans son grand œuvre d’hérésiologie au ton particulièrement polémique, Talbîs Iblîs (Les duperies de Satan)34, Ibn al-Jawzî consacre quelques lignes à la critique des philosophes. D’une façon générale il leur reproche de s’être fourvoyés en ne suivant que leurs opinions personnelles et leurs intellects sans se conformer aux dires des prophètes35. Après avoir énuméré les principaux griefs qui leur sont attribués, à savoir : la négation de la résurrection des corps, de la matérialité du paradis, de l’enfer et des attributs divins (volonté, connaissance, etc.), il aborde les philosophes de l’Islam en ces termes : Satan a donc trompé36 des groupes parmi les gens de notre religion, par le biais de leur faculté d’intelligence et de pénétration (dhakâ’ihim wa fitnatihim), leur indiquant que la vérité (al-sawâb) consiste à suivre les philosophes au motif que ce sont des sages qui ont produit des discours et des actions qui prouvent une intelligence et une pénétration parfaites, comme [en témoigne] la transmission de la sagesse de Socrate, d’Hippocrate, de Platon, d’Aristote et de Galien. Ces derniers possédaient des savoirs en géométrie, logique et naturalia ; ils ont découvert des éléments de métaphysique (umûr khiffiyya) par le biais de leur pénétration mais lorsqu’ils ont discouru au sujet des divinalia, ils ont amalgamé (khallatû). Ce qui explique qu’ils aient divergé dans ce [domaine] alors qu’ils n’ont pas divergé sur les [connaissances] sensibles géométriques (al-hissiyyât wa-al-handasiyyât) […]. Ils se sont trompés parce que les facultés humaines ne saisissent ces connaissances [les divinalia] que de façon sommaire, or la source [de ces connaissances] ce sont les religions. Aussi, a-t-on raconté à leurs disciples au sein de notre communauté que ces Anciens niaient l’existence du Créateur et rejetaient les religions en les considérant comme des lois et des ruses (nawâmîs wa-hiyal). Ils [les falâsifa] ont adhéré à ce qui leur fut raconté et refusèrent la bannière (shi‘âr) de la religion en négligeant les prières et se livrant aux interdits […]. Les juifs et les chrétiens sont plus excusables qu’eux puisqu’ils observent des religions prouvées par des miracles ; et les innovateurs en religions (al-mubtadi‘a fî al-dîn) sont plus excusables qu’eux puisqu’ils prêchent de réfléchir sur les arguments (al-nazar fî al-adilla). Alors que ceux-là [les falâsifa] n’ont d’autre motif à leur impiété (kufrihim) que le fait de savoir que les [anciens] philosophes étaient des sages et voyez-vous [comme] ils ignoraient que les prophètes étaient des sages et bien plus.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 183

[…] Nous avons vu des philosophants (mutafalsifa) de notre communauté dont le philosophisme (al-tafalsuf) n’a engendré que perplexité, [par conséquent,] ils ne se sont conformés ni au philosophisme ni à l’islam. Certains d’entre eux jeûnent [le mois] de Ramadan et prient, puis se mettent à réfuter le Créateur et le prophétisme (al-i‘tirâd ‘alâ al-khâliq wa-l-nubuwwât) 37. 39 Les falâsifa sont donc accusés de pêcher en substituant à l’autorité des prophètes celle des anciens philosophes. Cela les conduit, comme le dit également Ghazâlî, à se soustraire aux pratiques cultuelles en réduisant la révélation à un code légal, ou pire, à une ruse. Certains d’entre eux, inconséquents, observent les rites de la religion mais réfutent le prophétisme. Et enfin, selon Ibn al-Jawzî, outre leur impiété, les philosophes de l’islam font montre d’une attitude servile.

Ibn Taymiyya (m. 1328)

40 Taqî al-Dîn Ahmad Ibn Taimiyya naquit en l’an 1263 à Harrân, ville qui fut jadis l’un des bastions de la philosophie hellénistique, dans une famille de juristes hanbalites. Ses biographes sont unanimes à vanter ses qualités intellectuelles, notamment sa capacité réputée hors du commun à mémoriser l’information.

41 Ce théologien juriste et polémiste hors pair est considéré comme l’autorité suprême des courants salafites contemporain. Sa bibliographie est impressionnante, elle comporte un grand nombre d’ouvrages dédiés aux genres religieux traditionnels (jurisprudence, théologie, exégèse) et des ouvrages de polémique dont la plupart sont consacrés à la réfutation de la théologie, du soufisme spéculatif et de la philosophie. 42 En bon connaisseur de la philosophie avicennienne mais aussi de sa réception dans la théologie spéculative, Ibn Taymiyya a consacré une partie importante de son œuvre à critiquer la logique grecque, la métaphysique des falâsifa et en particulier leurs divinalia. 43 Les falâsifa qu’il considère comme une catégorie d’impie au sein de laquelle il ne fait que très peu de distinctions sont une de ses cibles favorites. Par exemple, au détour d’une citation d’al-Kindî, qu’il qualifie pour commencer de philosophe de l’Islam (faylasûf al-islâm), il s’empresse de rectifier : « je veux dire – le philosophe qu’il y a dans l’Islam – parce que les philosophes ne font pas partie des musulmans » 38. 44 Ibn Taymiyya prête aux philosophes un complexe de supériorité intellectuelle qu’il réprouve particulièrement lorsqu’il s’agit de se mesurer aux prophètes. Selon lui, certains d’entre eux donnent ouvertement précellence aux philosophes par rapport aux prophètes en matière de connaissances théorétiques39. Ils se permettraient ainsi d’invalider la révélation divine en tant que source de connaissance. 45 Ibn Taymiyya distingue toutefois les philosophes selon lesquels les prophètes ont révélé des choses contraires à la vérité afin de préserver la paix sociale de ceux qui considèrent les prophètes comme des ignorants « qui ne savaient pas [qu’ils enseignaient des contre vérités] car leur perfection réside dans la faculté pratique (al-quwwa al-‘amaliyya) et non dans la faculté théorétique (al-nazariyya)»40. Selon notre auteur, les premiers enseignent qu’il est dans l’intérêt (maslaha) de la foule que l’on s’adresse à elle de sorte qu’elle s’imagine que les choses sont ainsi, même si c’est un mensonge ; auquel cas, ce serait un mensonge dans l’intérêt de la foule, puisqu’il n’existerait d’autres moyens pour la guider vers le chemin du salut que celui de l’instruire par le biais de symboles.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 184

Avicenne et ses semblables ont élaboré leur règle [d’interprétation de la révélation] en se fondant sur ce principe, tel qu’il en est de la loi qu’il a énoncée dans sa Risalâ al-adhawiyya41. Ces gens-là disent que les prophètes ont employé ces mots dans l’intention [d’en faire saisir] le sens apparent (zawâhiruhâ) afin que la foule en comprenne ce sens, même si ces apparences en elles-mêmes sont mensongères et contraires à la vérité. Leur visée étant d’instruire la foule avec mensonges et choses vaines par intérêt42. 46 Outre la réduction du rôle temporel du prophète à la gouvernance politique c’est, d’une part, l’insertion du prophétisme à leur conception émanationniste du monde et de l’autre, les conséquences de leur théorie selon laquelle Dieu ne connaîtrait pas les particuliers qui disqualifie les philosophes au regard d’Ibn Taymiyya : Selon eux, Dieu ne connaîtrait pas l’individu Moïse ni Jésus ni Muhammad ni rien d’autre des particuliers de ce monde ; sans parler de Son ignorance des détails de ce qui se passa le jour [des batailles] de Badr, de Uhud ou des Ahzâb parmi tous les événements qu’Il a décrits dans le Coran. Ils [les falâsifa] ont décrété que la prophétie est une [chose qui] s’acquiert ; elle serait une émanation qui s’épanche sur l’âme du prophète lorsque celle-ci y est préparée ; ceux qui préparent leurs âmes se verraient recevoir cette émanation. […] cet outrage à ce qu’ont révélé les prophètes est pire que les discours des impies falsificateurs parmi les juifs et les chrétiens [...]43. 47 En vertu de leur théorie, écrit-il plus loin, certain d’entre ces philosophes vont jusqu’à dire que l’objet de la prière n’est pas de vénérer Dieu, puisque selon leurs principes, Dieu ne connaît pas les particuliers et ne saurait distinguer un pratiquant d’un non pratiquant44. Ils prétendront parfois que les pratiques cultuelles (al-‘ibâdât) servent à polir l’âme afin de la préparer à la connaissance ; ou alors enseigneront-ils que la finalité de ces pratiques est « d’obtenir le bonheur du foyer ou de la cité, [et] c’est ce qu’ils appellent la sagesse pratique (al-hikma al-‘amaliyya) ». Les philosophes n’imposeraient donc pas l’obligation des pratiques religieuses à ceux qui ont atteint, comme ils le prétendent, la vérité de la connaissance (haqîqatu al-‘ilm).45 Certains ajouteront que « les prophètes non plus n’étaient pas tenus à ces pratiques mais ils les accomplissaient parce que cela entérinait leurs révélations aux communautés en les guidant et non parce que c’était un devoir pour eux »46. En réponse à ce dernier chef d’accusation, Ibn Taymiyya estime que si l’on peut être dispensé de prières dans certains cas particuliers prévus par la loi, en vertu de l’accord unanime des savants de la communauté, il est absolument inacceptable de prêcher qu’il y a également une dérogation pour les philosophes. Considérés comme apostats, tranche-t-il, ces gens sont passibles de peine capitale s’ils abandonnent leurs prières47.

Conclusion

48 Ce qui précède montre de façon assez claire que les philosophes de l’islam sont considérés comme des négateurs du prophétisme. Certes ils ne symbolisent pas le rejet pur et simple de cette institution, à l’instar des barâhima ou bien des éternistes (dahriyya), mais lorsque l’hérésiologue ou le pourfendeur de la philosophie aborde leurs prophétologies avec plus de profondeur que le simple exposé scholastique, il les accuse au même titre que les autres négateurs48.

49 À partir des textes que nous venons d’exposer, il est possible d’identifier un certain nombre de lieux dans l’ensemble des critiques qui leur sont adressées et qui ont trait au prophétisme :

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 185

50 Premièrement, ils sont accusés de substituer l’autorité des anciens philosophes à celle des prophètes. Sans être taxés d’athéisme, mais tels les barâhima qui préfèrent le rationalisme à la révélation prophétique, ils se rendent coupables, eux aussi, de crime de lèse prophétie. 51 En deuxième lieu, les falâsifa sont suspectés de rivaliser avec les prophètes au sein de la cité, et ce, dans les deux domaines du gouvernement et de la connaissance. La sagesse intellectuelle étant la voie du bonheur élue par eux, ils considèrent que la religion n’est valable que pour les masses incultes qui ne peuvent trouver le salut autrement. Dans le même sens il leur est reproché de se soustraire aux pratiques religieuses au motif que leur salut n’en dépend pas. Ainsi, la religion est réduite par eux à sa seule dimension légale, ce qui exclut toute différence de nature entre la loi divine et les lois naturelles. En somme, les théologiens perçoivent les philosophes y compris ceux de l’islam, les falâsifa, comme un groupe concurrent au plan politique. 52 Enfin, en ce qu’ils tentent de dissimuler leur non adhésion à la prophétologie de l’islam et, par conséquent, à la religion islamique, en dissimulant leurs opinons philosophiques derrière des références religieuses, les falâsifa sont considérés comme des imposteurs au regard de la société islamique.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Abrahamov, B. 1998 Islamic Theology. Traditionalism and Rationalism, Edinburgh.

Al-Ghazâlî 1969 Al-Munqidh min al-dalâl, trad. F. Jabre, Beyrouth. 1964 Fadâ’ih al-bâtiniyya wa-fadâ’il al-mustazhiriyya, éd. A. Badawi, Le Caire. 1993 Faysal al-tafriqa bayna al-islâm wa-l-zandaqa, éd. M. Bîjû, Damas. 1997 Tahâfut al-falâsifa, éd. M. E. Marmura, Utah.

Al-Mâwardî 1994 A‘lâm al-nubuwwa, Dâr al-Nafâ’is, Beyrouth.

Al-Shahrastânî 1986-1993 Kitâb al–Milal wa-l-Nihal (le Livre des religions et des sectes) éd. trad. et notes par D. Gimaret, G. Monnot et J. Jolivet, 2 t., UNESCO (Peeters).

Gardet, L., Anawati, M.-M, 1948 Introduction à la théologie musulmane, Vrin, Paris.

Griffel, F. 2005 « Taqlîd of the Philosophers. Al-Ghazâlî’s initial accusation in the Tahafut » Insights into Arabic Literature and Islam. Ideas, Concepts, Modes of Portrayal, ed. Sebastian Günther, Brill, Leyde, 253-273.

Ibn al-Jawzî s. d. Talbîs Iblîs, al-Tawfîqiyya, Le Caire.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 186

Ibn Taymiyya 1949 Kitâb al-Radd ‘alâ al-mantiqiyyîn, Bombay. 1979 Dar’ ta‘ârud al-‘aql wa-l-naql, éd. M. R. Sâlim, Riad. 1990 Bughiat al-murtâd, Dâr al-Fikr, Beyrouth. 2006 Kitâb al-Nubuwwât, Dâr Ibn al-Jawzî, Le Caire. 2005 Dalâ’il al-nubuwwa, Al-‘Ubaykân, Riad.

Michel, Th. 1983 « Ibn Taymiyya’s Critique of Falsafa » Hamdard Islamicus, t. VI, n° 1, Karashi, p. 3-14.

Rahman, F. 1958 Prophecy in Islam; Philosophy and Orthodoxy, Chicago-London.

Stroumsa, S. 1999 Freethinkers in Medieval Islam. Ibn al-Rawandi, Abû Bakr al-Râzî and their impact on Islamic Thought, Brill, Leyde.

NOTES

1. Pour illustrer ce phénomène, Louis Gardet avait qualifié cette théologie d’« apologie défensive », expression dont l’usage fait aujourd’hui parti du jargon des spécialistes en la matière. 2. P. Kraus affirme que tout ce que nous savons à leur sujet vient du Kitâb al-Zummrud d’Ibn al- Rawandî, la première source où ils sont mentionnés pour leur négation de la prophétie. Selon lui, Ibn al-Rawandî les aurait inventés afin d’exposer ses propres doctrines. Certains spécialistes ont même émis l’hypothèse d’une erreur de copie, barâhima serait en fait ibrahimiyya, désignant des descendants d’Abraham qui ne seraient autre qu’une secte sabéenne, cf. Stroumsa, S., Freethinkers of Medieval Islam, Ibn al-Rawandî, Abû Bakr al-Râzî and their Impact on Islamic Thought, Leyde, Brill, 1999, p. 145-6. 3. « It could be interpreted as another proof for the late, fictious nature of the barâhima », Stroumsa, op. cit., p. 24, n. 25. 4. Voir l’introduction de la traduction française de l’ouvrage par D. Gimaret, Livre des religions et des sectes, p. 13. S. Stroumsa concède que l’emprunt de l’expression « libre pensée » au contexte qui l’a vu naître, à savoir, l’histoire intellectuelle de l’Europe moderne, est problématique. Mais elle justifie son choix en affirmant que le phénomène de déisme dans la pensée européenne offre un parallèle pertinent avec les libres penseurs de l’islam, cf. Stroumsa, op. cit., p. 7-8. 5. Nom coranique désignant Satan. 6. Cf. Shahrastânî, Le Livre des Religions et des sectes, trad. Gimaret, D., Monnot, G., t. 1, p. 115. 7. Id., t. 1, p. 160-1. 8. Ces deux individualités qui n’ont pas fait école ont mérité les épithètes de « penseurs libres » ou « libre penseurs », respectivement dans les ouvrages de D. Urvoy et S. Stroumsa, au titre de leurs posture originale au regard de l’islam officiel. Cf. Urvoy, D., Les penseurs libres dans l’Islam classique, p. 117-132, et Stroumsa, S., op. cit. p. 45. 9. Ibid. 10. Ainsi faut-il se référer au Kitâb al-Intisâr du mu‘tazilite al-Khayyât (m .913) pour apprendre que : « Le livre connu sous le nom de Kitâb al-Zummrud, dans le quel il [Ibn al-Rawandî] a mentionné les miracles des prophètes que le salut soit sur eux, tels que les miracles d’Abraham, Moïse, Jésus et Muhammad, que Dieu les bénisse. Il a réfuté la réalité de ces miracles et soutenu que c’étaient des subterfuges (makhâriq) et que les gens qui les ont accomplis sont des magiciens

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 187

et des menteurs ». Cf. Al-Khayyât, Abû l-Husayn, Kitâb al-Intisâr, éd. et trad. A. Nader, Beyrouth, 1957, p. 12. 11. Cf. A‘lâm al–nubuwwa, éd. S. Sawy, Téhéran, 1977. 12. Des fragments illustrant les principaux arguments de la critique du prophétisme de Abû Zakariyya par Abû Hâtim sont traduits par F. Brion dans le Bulletin de philosophie médiévale, n° 28, 1986, p. 135-62. Et dans la Revue philosophique de Louvain, n° 86, 1989, p. 139-164. 13. Notons que les adversaires de la philosophie emprunteront le plus souvent la forme mutafalsifa c'est-à-dire « philosophants » que nous traduisons parfois comme « prétendus philosophes » ou « pseudo-philosophes » qui convient mieux au contexte critique dans lequel ils sont généralement évoqués. 14. Que les polémistes distinguent traditionnellement des « divins » (al-ilâhiyyûn). Jolivet traduit Dahriyyûn par « physiciens », cf. Le livre des religions…. t. II, p. 92. 15. « It thus seems that, from the time of Fârâbî on, the prophetology of the falasifa immunized them to the suspicion of freethinking. Once the falâsifa, at the forefront of rationalism, had integrated prophecy into their thought, the accusation of freethinking would become increasingly similar to that of atheism: the philosophers’ doctrine was said to be like denying prophecy, or it amounted to denying prophecy. The falasifa did not profess real, open and blatant freethinking, and they were not accused of professing it ». Stroumsa, op. cit., p. 192 16. Qui est une réfutation de la métaphysique d’Avicenne. (Ed., trad. et notes de Madelung, W. et Mayer, W., Londres, 2001). 17. L’ouvrage de Mâwardî comprend des arguments rationnels non fondés sur les sources d’autorité et se distingue ainsi des traités émanant des théologiens traditionnistes dont les démonstrations de l’existence des prophètes ne sont fondées que sur le Coran et les traditions prophétiques. 18. Cf. al-Mâwardî, A‘lâm al-nubuwwa, p. 66. 19. Id., p. 66-7. Mâwardî fait probablement allusion à une opinion exprimée par al-Fârâbî (m. 950), le fondateur de la philosophie politique en terre d’Islam. Une opinion selon laquelle l’obtention des connaissances théorétiques dont font partie les divinalia ne peut se réaliser par voie de révélation. Cf. Al-Fârâbî, Abû Nasr, al-Fusûl al-madanî, éd., intro. et trad. anglaise par D. M. Dunlop, Cambridge, 1961, p. 167. 20. Une hypothèse fort appuyée par les études contemporaines. Cf. Monnot, Art « Shahrastânî » EI², vol. IX, p. 214-216. Brill, Leiden. 1997. 21. Cf. Jolivet, J., « Les philosophes de Shahrastânî » dans Le livre des religions et des sectes, trad. intro. et notes de J. Jolivet, et G. Monnot, t. II, p. 14-51. 22. Id., p. 17 23. Id., p. 46 24. Figurant ainsi dans certaines sources, le mot pose problème aux traducteurs, cf. Shahrastânî, le Livre des religions…, t. II, trad. Jolivet et Monnot, note 15, p. 93. 25. Id., p. 9-3. Comme nous l’avons vu, S. Stroumsa suit Gimaret en traduisant al-istibdâd bî al-ra’y chez Shahrastânî par « libre pensée ». Or selon l’hérésiographe, les philosophes de l’islam sont bel et bien compris dans cette catégorie. Plus encore, soulignons la portée symbolique du traitement d’Avicenne au même titre que les Arabes païens. 26. Nous ne sommes pas en mesure dire à quels philosophes pense l’auteur, étant donné que dans cet ouvrage tous les falâsifa illustres sont envisagés dans la catégorie des adeptes de la pensée libre qui est hors de la communauté musulmane. 27. Al-Ghazâlî, Al-Munqidh min al-dalâl, trad. F. Jabre, Beyrouth, 1969, p. 18. 28. Id., p. 23-4. 29. Id., p. 47. 30. Id., p. 47-8. Traduction de F. Jabre modifiée par nos soins.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 188

31. Cf. Griffel, F., « Taqlîd of the Philosophers. Al-Ghazâlî's initial accusation in the Tahafut » Insights into Arabic Literature and Islam. Ideas, Concepts, Modes of Portrayal, ed. Sebastian Günther, Brill, Leyde, 2005, p. 118. 32. Cf. al-Ghazâlî, Fadâ’ih al-bâtiniyya wa-fadâ’il al-mustazhiriyya, éd. Badawi, A., Le Caire, 1964, p. 146-168. 33. Id., p. 153. 34. Ibn al-Jawzî, Abû al-Faraj, Talbîs Iblîs, Le Caire, al-Tawfîqiyya. 35. Talbîs, p. 60. 36. Selon la formule qui introduit chaque groupe, opinion ou action critiqué dans l’ouvrage. 37. Id., p. 64-65. 38. « A‘nî al-faylasûf al-ladhî fî al-islâm wa-illâ fa-laysa al-falâsifa min al-muslimîn », cf. Ibn Taymiyya, Kitâb al-radd ‘alâ al-mantiqiyyîn (La réfutation des logiciens), Bombay, 1949, p. 199. 39. Id., p. 183. 40. Id. p. 140 ; et Ibn Taymiyya, Dar’ ta‘ârud al-‘aql wa-l-naql, vol. 1, éd. M. R. Sâlim, Riad, 1979, p. 8-11. 41. Cf. Michot, Y., « A Mamlûk theologian’s commentary on Avicenna’s Risâlâ Adhawiyya. Being a translation of a part of the Dar’ al-ta‘ârud of Ibn Taymiyya, with introduction, annotation and appendices » Journal of Islamic Studies, (2003) 14 (ii) p. 149-203 et 14 (iii) p. 309-363. 42. Cf., Ibn Taymiyya, Dar’, vol. 1, p. 8-9. 43. Cf. Ibn Taymiyya, al-Radd, p. 277. 44. Id. p. 461. 45. Cf. Ibn Taymiyya, Dar’, vol 2, p. 269 46. Ibid. 47. Id. p. 270. 48. Les exposés scholastiques se contentent le plus souvent de citer les barâhima pour illustrer le rejet du prophétisme.

RÉSUMÉS

Le présent article porte sur l’évocation des philosophes de l’islam dans la prophétologie sunnite. L’établissement du fait prophétique dans la théologie répond aux objections rationalistes des différents négateurs de cette institution qui est fondamentale dans la religion islamique. Parmi ces négateurs, on retrouve les philosophes qui ont tenté de trouver un sens à cette institution au regard de la philosophie politique et de la théorie de la connaissance héritées de leurs prédécesseurs grecs. Dans cette étude, nous montrons que cette tentative de conciliation entre religion et philosophie n’a vraisemblablement pas convaincu le milieu des théologiens.

INDEX

Mots-clés : Prophétologie, philosophie, islam, théologie, rationalisme, épistémologie, sunnisme, ash‘arisme, hérésiologie

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 189

Sur les traces du « vivre-ensemble » Siegfried Landshut : portrait d’un intellectuel juif allemand

Elena Fiorletta

« Je suis profondément impressionné par tout ce que j’y ai vu. Tout en n’ignorant d’aucune façon les difficultés, et souvent les préoccupations de nombreux aspects de la vie collective, cette terre donne cependant dans son ensemble une image de volonté et de transformation si vive, persuasive. D’un point de vue professionnel, c’est un champ si extraordinairement attrayant pour mettre à l’œuvre de nouvelles forces, que je ne nourris plus que d’autres désirs que de pouvoir y travailler1 ». 1 L’auteur s’abandonne dans ces lignes à quelques moments d’optimisme depuis le début de son exil forcé, trois ans après son départ du port de Hambourg. C’est ainsi que Siegfried Landshut, un jeune intellectuel juif allemand fut jeté hors de l’université de la ville hanséatique alors que la loi sur la restauration de la fonction publique entrait en vigueur le 7 avril 1933. La terre pour laquelle il se déclare profondément impressionné est la Palestine, devenue la destination privilégiée des communautés juives en fuite devant les persécutions antisémites en Europe et séduites par le projet sioniste initié cinquante ans plus tôt. Les « difficultés » et les « préoccupations » qu’il évoque renvoient à la complexité du contexte historique et politique du lieu, marqué par une guerre civile nourrie par l’aspiration nationale de l’immigration juive et le désir d’indépendance de la population arabe. Le seul désir qui l’anime est de continuer son travail de recherche, précisément à l’université Hébraïque de Jérusalem. C’est là que plusieurs fondations juives se portent mécènes pour lui permettre de reprendre enfin, même de façon précaire, son activité intellectuelle dans un cadre universitaire.

2 Il y a encore un dernier point sur lequel il convient de s’arrêter dans ces lignes chargées d’espoir et d’attente. Ce dernier point constitue une voie d’accès privilégiée au profil intellectuel de notre auteur : « Je n’ignore pas – écrit-il – les difficultés et les préoccupations de nombreux aspects de la vie collective » avec lesquelles il se prépare à être confronté. On remarque qu’il n’est pas seulement question de la perplexité de l’exilé devant la perspective de se retrouver dans une condition inédite de précarité existentielle. Il la distingue de l’adjectif qu’il utilise pour qualifier la « vie » qui l’attend en Palestine. Cet adjectif, « collectif », illustre tout à fait sa réflexion sur le politique [das Politische], dès ses premiers travaux de recherche jusqu’à ses dernières œuvres.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 190

3 Cette lettre est un témoignage unique sur cette époque marquée par ce que l’on a appelé une « rupture de civilisation2 » [Zivilisationsbruch] sans égale dans l’ère de la modernité. Néanmoins, la combinaison des références aux faits historiques, aux impressions personnelles, à l’ouverture vers de nouvelles possibilités de la vie, et enfin au thème principal de son travail de recherches, ce dernier étant suggéré de manière plus implicite, en fait également un document d’époque et un panorama synthétique de son profil intellectuel, sur lequel la communauté scientifique ne s’est jusqu’ici pas attardée. 4 Les pages suivantes offrent ainsi l’opportunité d’explorer quelques éléments de la biographie de l’auteur – actuellement disponible seulement en langue allemande grâce au travail pilote de l’historien hambourgeois Rainer Nicolaysen – en portant une attention toute particulière aux années de l’exil en Palestine. Ces notes préliminaires permettent d’accéder à un premier aperçu des concepts de « vivre-ensemble » l’un- avec-l’autre [Miteinander-Zusammenleben] et de l’homme en tant qu’individu vivant en communauté [Gemeinwesen], qui jouent tout deux un rôle central dans l’œuvre de Landshut et qui subiront lors de son séjour à Jérusalem une distorsion sémantique significative.

Première partie

5 Devant la biographie de Siegfried Landshut, on ne peut rester insensible à l’abondance de références qui lient son parcours au panorama intellectuel de la République de Weimar. Né à Strasbourg dans une famille de juifs assimilés, Landshut avait fréquenté le gymnasium protestant local, alors qu’il n’était qu’un enfant. Il y acquit une éducation humaniste qui l’orienta ensuite vers des études de lettres classiques. En plus du latin et du grec, il apprit l’anglais et le français. Il l’utilisa alors plus tard cette dernière dans ses recherches portant sur Rousseau, Montesquieu, Tocqueville, ainsi que pendant l’exil en Egypte. Alors qu’il avait dix-sept ans, Landshut fut enrôlé dans les forces terrestres allemandes qui l’envoya au front comme sous-officier au Moyen-Orient. Il revint en Allemagne, blessé, après un an et demi de guerre, et puis cinq ans plus tard, à la fin des hostilités. La guerre l’avait mené en Turquie, puis à Alep, Damas, Beyrouth, Jaffa, Jérusalem, Be’er Sheva, nombre de villes où il retourna vingt ans plus tard, cette fois en tant qu’exilé. L’expérience du conflit marque profondément sa vie et ses choix futurs, comme le dévoilent ses lettres empreintes de doute et d’inquiétude pour l’avenir.

6 Cette incertitude vis-à-vis de sa « nouvelle situation existentielle3 » l’amène à abandonner ses études de droit pour s’inscrire plutôt à des études d’économie politique à Fribourg avec Robert Liefmann et à Francfort avec Franz Oppenheimer. En 1921, il finit son doctorat qu’il accompagne d’une thèse consacrée au concept « de l’homo oeconomicus » dans le cadre du débat théorique concernant l’autonomie des sciences sociales et historiques qui recherchaient alors un nouveau statut méthodologique. Alors qu’il cherchait une réponse « à la nature problématique de la vie4 », caractéristique de l’équilibre précaire de l’Allemagne de Weimar, Landshut en vint aux disciplines philosophiques. Il poursuivit ses études d’abord avec Edmund Husserl et Martin Heidegger à Fribourg et puis à Marbourg, et successivement avec Max Scheler à Cologne et Alfred Weber et Karl Jaspers à Heidelberg. Il connut alors Karl Löwith, Hannah Arendt, Günther Anders, Hans Jonas, Herbert Marcuse, pour ne nommer que quelques jeunes intellectuels juifs allemands qui ont formé le « laboratoire Weimar ».

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 191

7 À cette période de son travail intellectuel, Landshut mit au point le thème central de son activité de recherche : la politique comme ensemble vivant de connaissances orienté vers le bien commun, mais aussi comme une dimension constitutive de la communauté humaine. C’est en 1925 que son premier travail d’analyse fut publié sous le titre de Quelques concepts fondamentaux de la politique 5, consacré à la définition de quelques notions « fondamentales » de la politique moderne à la lumière du changement sémantique induit par la modernité. Bien que son article publié dans les pages de l’Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik, éditées par les frères Weber, fut salué par Wilhelm Hennis6 comme l’acte de naissance de la science politique allemande, il ne pouvait lui assurer une position stable à l’université d’Heidelberg. La vague d’antisémitisme qui, avant le reste du pays, faisait en effet rage dans le Baden- Württemberg, l’empêchait de facto d’obtenir sa titularisation, qui n’était accordée chaque année qu’à une seule personne parmi les candidats n’étant pas d’origine aryenne7. 8 Landshut déménagea alors à Hambourg, où il obtint un poste comme chercheur à l’ Institute for Foreign Politics, dirigé par le juriste pacifiste et démocrate libéral Albrecht Mendelssohn Bartholdy. Il s’agissait d’un des premiers instituts de recherche dans le domaine des relations internationales et des Traités de paix dans le monde. Landshut rédigea alors une étude sur le système des mandats et le travail servile, qui ne fut jamais publiée8, mais il put tout de même aborder plus précisément les problèmes relatifs à la situation politique de son temps9. Sur le système des mandats, il publia un article en 1926 par Die Gesellschaft10, le magazine international de la social-démocratie allemande. En 1927, il commença sa collaboration avec Eduard Heimann, professeur d’économie politique à l’université d’Hambourg et social-démocrate activement engagé contre la vague antidémocratique et inconstitutionnelle qui minait déjà les bases de la fragile République de Weimar. 9 Les cinq années qui suivirent furent marquées par un intense travail de recherche et de publication. Il définit alors les grandes lignes de son travail théorique : l’analyse historique-idéale [Geistesgeschichtliche] des concepts du politique, la nature de la démocratie moderne, les conditions dans lesquelles on pourrait penser l’avenir d’une Europe des peuples, et, également, la question méthodologique que Landshut aborda à partir de la critique de la sociologie et de la méthode de l’idéal-type de Max Weber. C’est au sociologue Heidelberg que Landshut consacra un de ses essais les plus importants écrits à cette époque11. Il écrivit en outre une biographie intellectuelle et historique de Karl Marx12, et commença à rentrer en contact avec le SPD en vue de publier des écrits de jeunesse de Karl Marx, ce qu’il fit effectivement quelques années plus tard13. 10 En 1928, il présenta sa candidature pour obtenir une titularisation en « politique », une discipline qui n’était pas enseignée dans les universités allemandes. Le sujet de sa thèse, une « critique de la sociologie » ainsi que sa réputation de social-démocrate et l’hostilité de la corporation académique le poussèrent à retirer sa candidature et à écrire une autre thèse, cette fois-ci dédiée à l’analyse historico-systématique du concept « d’économique » [das Ökonomischen]14. Mais cela ne fut pas suffisant pour lui assurer son but : l’entrée en vigueur, le 7 avril 1933, de la loi sur la restauration de la fonction publique l’a forcé, ainsi que des milliers d’autres intellectuels juifs, à quitter l’université, et peu après, le pays. Près d’un cinquième du corps enseignant fut contraint de quitter l’université de Hambourg, parmi eux Ernst Cassirer, Albrecht

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 192

Mendelssohn Bartholdy, Eduard Heimann et Erwin Panofsky. L’expulsion de l’université représenta une interruption brutale d’une trajectoire intellectuelle pleine de promesse : en 1929, il avait publié sa très controversée « critique de la sociologie », qui avait provoqué un vif débat à l’intérieur et à l’extérieur du cercle académique. 11 Il s’exila d’abord en Egypte, où il était prévu qu’il tienne une série de conférences à l’université d’Alexandrie en été 1933. Alors qu’il espérait obtenir un poste à l’université du Caire, ses attentes furent rapidement déçues. La désillusion et l’amertume profonde le gagnèrent et il dut supporter une situation économique de plus en plus difficile. L’année suivante il écrivit et publia deux essais en français consacrés à l’analyse des transformations du « vivre-ensemble », au développement de la société moderne, et au rôle du capitalisme dans la formation de la société occidentale15. Dans le même temps, il travailla pendant une courte période à la bibliothèque du Borchardt-Institut. À Alexandrie, il enseigna dans une école, traduisit plusieurs textes en français pour une société d’import-export, tout en continuant son travail de recherche, qui se concentra sur l’histoire de l’Egypte contemporaine et l’histoire constitutionnelle égyptienne. Au Caire, Landshut rencontra alors Alexandre Koyré, qu’il avait peut-être rencontré à l’université lors des cours dispensés par Husserl, ou à Cologne chez Scheler, Koyré qui était maintenant engagé à l’université avant d’être rappelé à Paris, en 193416. 12 Cette même année, Landshut commence à chercher une destination alternative à l’Egypte. Heimann le mit en contact avec le directeur de la League of Nation’s Commission for Jewish Refugees from Germany, Norman Bentwich. Il caressa alors l’espoir d’une opportunité de travail dans la toute jeune université hébraïque de Jérusalem. Alors que la perspective d’intégrer l’université de Jérusalem se rapprochait, Landshut décida de reprendre son projet débuté deux ans auparavant et auquel il avait consacré quelques conférences, c’est-à-dire : l’étude du « Le judaïsme européen par l’émancipation », une recherche établie sur deux niveaux : d’une part l’importance de l’émancipation pour l’« être-juif » et la tradition juive, et d’autre part l’influence du judaïsme émancipé sur le développement du 19e siècle17. 13 Le projet n’a jamais vu le jour, même si les efforts faits en direction d’un appel de la part de l’université hébraïque de Jérusalem commencèrent à porter leurs fruits. Le banquier d’Hambourg Fritz Warburg mit Landshut en contact avec l’intellectuel Ernst Simon, qui prit quelques initiatives pour lui assurer une bourse à l’université de Jérusalem. Parmi les diverses lettres soumises à la Fondation Rockefeller pour favoriser la candidature de Landshut, il faut ici mentionner celle d’Alexander Rüstow, qui jugea sa « critique de la sociologie comme une des plus significatives et prometteuses contributions à la sociologie allemande ces dernières décennies18 » et celle de Richard Koebner, alors professeur d’histoire contemporaine à l’université hébraïque de Jérusalem, qui qualifia son intégration comme « très souhaitable19 ». 14 À l’été 1936, il partit finalement pour la Palestine, où il commença en octobre son travail de recherche à l’université de Jérusalem. Pour la première fois depuis le début de son exil, Landshut pouvait se concentrer sur ses projets de recherche dans un véritable cadre universitaire. Malheureusement, la réalité déçoit de nouveau ses attentes : l’université hébraïque n’avait été créée qu’onze ans plus tôt et en 1936 il n’y avait toujours pas de département consacré aux sciences sociales, ni aux sciences politiques ou à l’économie politique, où Landshut aurait pu mettre à profit ses capacités intellectuelles et son professionnalisme.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 193

15 Les thèmes qui avaient nourri son travail jusqu’alors – en particulier l’histoire des relations entre État et société, le conflit méthodologique dans les sciences historico- sociales, Marx et Weber en tant que philosophes sociaux – se sont peu à peu effacés devant l’actualité brûlante du contexte socio-politique. Alors qu’il fut chercheur pendant deux ans à l’université hébraïque, l’objet d’étude de Landshut devint alors « la question des établissements communautaires » en Palestine. Non seulement Landshut devait travailler sur un nouveau thème et une nouvelle méthode mais il devait aussi étudier l’hébreu, essentiel pour tout enseignant de la jeune université de Jérusalem. À cela s’ajouta une situation familiale difficile, avec une épouse atteinte de la tuberculose et trois enfants à charge. La conscience d’avoir seulement deux ans pour s’assurer une position stable, à cause de l’arrêt du financement de la part de la Fondation Rockefeller, fit des années 1936-1938 une expérience loin d’être facile. Cependant, à l’été 1938, Landshut pouvait déjà enseigner en hébreu des leçons consacrées à la philosophie sociale de Max Weber. 16 Cependant, ni les échos positifs de son enseignement parmi les étudiants, ni les pressions exercées par ses collègues ne purent lui assurer une stabilité de son emploi : le recteur de l’université hébraïque, Salman Schocken, refusa de prolonger son contrat. Même les prises de position personnelles de Martin Buber, tout juste arrivé à Jérusalem, Hugo Bergmann, Richard Koebner, Georg Landauer, Arthur Ruppin et Ernst Simon ne réussirent à persuader la direction de l’université de conserver la position de Landshut, au moins jusqu’à la fin de son étude sur les établissements communautaires en Palestine. Finalement, d’un point de vue professionnel, les deux années passées à l’université hébraïque ne représentèrent pas un réel retour au travail universitaire, mais d’un point de vue culturel et humain, elles lui ouvrirent les portes de la petite communauté d’intellectuels juifs allemands de l’école universaliste, engagée au sein de l’organisation Brit Shalom, défendant l’idée d’une solution binationale pour mettre fin au conflit entre la nouvelle immigration juive et la population arabe. 17 Landshut ne rentra jamais officiellement à Brit Shalom, mais ses travaux publiés ces années-là témoignent d’une convergence sur le plan de la culture et des idées avec le programme du groupe. En 1939, il écrivit ainsi l’essai La révolution sociale dans la conception de Landauer20, constituant un des chapitres d’un volume collectif du centre culturel du Histadrut qui rassemblait également des essais écrits par Hugo Bergmann, Max Brod et Martin Buber, consacrés à la figure de l’intellectuel anarchiste tué vingt ans auparavant à Munich par le Freikorps. Deux ans plus tard, il publia À la fin d’un siècle (1840-1940)21, un autre essai consacré à l’analyse des mutations opérées au sein de la société contemporaine, à l’idée même du changement d’époque, au rôle de l’autorité politique et à la fonction des masses. 18 Son œuvre la plus importante fut publiée en 1944, après quatre années de recherche, alors que Landshut ne faisait plus partie du corps enseignant de l’université hébraïque et faisait à nouveau face à des difficultés financières particulièrement précaires qui le forcèrent à quitter Jérusalem. C’est alors que ses collègues chercheurs, et tout particulièrement Martin Buber, lui proposèrent de poursuivre son travail de recherche sur les institutions communautaires en observant le terrain et en expérimentant en Palestine l’organisation sociale d’un kibboutz. En 1940, Landshut déménagea alors avec toute sa famille dans le kibboutz Givat Brenner, où il analysa en direct les différents aspects de l’expérience communautaire des « unités de production », mise en place par la nouvelle immigration juive en Palestine. Le rapport fut rédigé en allemand et il ne

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 194

put le publier que grâce à la remise du prix « Ruppin-science » qu’il lui permit de financer la traduction en hébreu. Cependant, le scepticisme de l’auteur pour la forme collectiviste et la rigidité de l’organisation centralisée des rythmes de vie, pour l’isolement des kibboutz par rapport à son environnement, pour les conséquences de la pression croissante imposée par le processus de l’industrialisation, condamnèrent ce premier travail scientifique, Kibboutz22 à un accueil froid et suspicieux. 19 Un autre article, publié en 1944 sous le titre Réflexions sur l’Alija 23, témoignant de ses doutes sur la réelle capacité d’attraction du projet « d’un foyer national » en Palestine pour les Juifs restés en Europe, ne l’aida pas à lui assurer la confiance de la communauté universitaire de Jérusalem. Depuis 1942, Landshut avait en effet commencé à collaborer avec le département allemand de la British Mediterranean Station, la section du Political Warfare Executive spécialisée sur le Moyen-Orient basée à Londres, alors que rien ne laissait croire à son possible retour à l’université hébraïque. Il était toujours en contact avec le groupe d’intellectuels juifs allemands : il continua à collaborer avec Buber, Simon, Landauer et Koebner en tant qu’enseignant à la School for Adult Education à Jérusalem et donna une conférence sur le « Romantisme dans l’État et dans la société ». Le dernier acte de sa collaboration avec la communauté juive allemande de Jérusalem fut un essai consacré à Karl Marx et à Max Weber ainsi que sur les concepts d’aliénation et de rationalisation en tant que clés interprétatives de la modernité24. 20 Ce fut aussi l’ultime témoignage de la présence de Landshut en Palestine, qu’il décida de quitter pour le Caire, où il dirigea l’« Educational section » du British Foreign Office, dont le but était la rééducation des prisonniers de guerre allemands aux valeurs de la démocratie. Il y resta jusqu’en 1948, quand il partit pour Londres à la fin de son exil. Il travailla comme directeur de recherche de l’Anglo-Jewish Association, en se consacrant notamment à une enquête sur les communautés juives dans les pays musulmans du Moyen-Orient, publiée en 194925. La même année, il reprit contact avec l’université de Hambourg, qui lui offrit en 1951 la chaire de science politique, discipline sur laquelle il se concentra jusqu’au terme de sa carrière universitaire. 21 Siegfried Landshut et Eduard Heimann firent partie de ces quelques juifs allemands qui retournèrent en Allemagne « pour y rester26 ». Alors que l’université de Hambourg lui avaient refusé dix-huit années plus tôt sa titularisation en « politique » et l’avait contraint à interrompre son travail de chercheur, ce même établissement appela Landshut pour s’adonner à la difficile tâche de rétablir une « science politique » qui avant la guerre était absente du programme d’études universitaires. De 1952 à 1958, il joignit l’Association Allemande pour la Science Politique [Deutsche Vereinigung für Politische Wissenschaft] pour favoriser la reprise de contact au sein de la communauté scientifique internationale. D’un point de vue théorique, le thème de ses recherches tournait alors autour de la clarification des tâches de la politique et de la science politique dans la société contemporaine. 22 Son activité scientifique continua entre l’université, l’activité d’enseignement à l’Académie pour l’économie sociale de Hambourg [Akademie für Gemeinwirtschaft Hamburg] et le développement de nouvelles initiatives éditoriales. En 1953, il publia à nouveau les écrits de jeunesse de Marx. Un an plus tard, il commença à traduire Tocqueville et dirigea la publication d’un choix de plusieurs de ses textes27, favorisant un renouveau du penseur français en Allemagne28, l’analyse de l’état moderne par Herman Finer29 et, en 1959, les Partis politiques de Maurice Duverger 30. En 1967, il donna

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 195

une seule conférence consacrée à l’État d’Israël vingt ans après sa naissance : fil conducteur de son travail de recherche, le lien idéal entre le projet de fondation de l’État national juif en Palestine et les mouvements d’émancipation des peuples européens inspirés par la Révolution Française et la bataille pour les droits de l’Homme. C’était la toute première fois depuis son retour en Allemagne que Landshut abordait explicitement la question Israël, alors qu’il avait toujours émis sur ce point la plus grande réserve31. 23 Un an plus tard, Landshut décida de visiter la terre où il n’avait plus mis le pied depuis 1945 et y resta plusieurs mois. On ne saurait affirmer si ce voyage était motivé par des seules raisons personnelles ou s’il le voyait comme l’opportunité de reprendre contact avec la communauté intellectuelle juive allemande restée là-bas. Landshut décéda quelques mois plus tard à Hambourg, en 1968, tandis que la donne politique avait changé dans presque tous les pays du monde, réclamant une transformation radicale de la société.

Deuxième partie

24 Dans un article écrit récemment pour le Neue Zürcher Zeitung, Jürgen Habermas32 peint une fresque détaillée sur l’intelligentsia juive allemande qui, après la deuxième guerre mondiale, contribua à former une génération entière de jeunes intellectuels allemands : curieux d’obtenir une réponse sur les interrogations posées par cette fracture historique qui venait juste d’être consommée au sein la civilisation européenne, des milliers d’étudiants se sont tournés vers les travaux de beaucoup d’intellectuels juifs allemands pour trouver une réponse aux questions face auxquelles la culture allemande se trouvait paralysée.

25 Avec la précision et l’abondance des détails qui en caractérisent le style, le philosophe et sociologue allemand passe en revue la contribution apportée par ceux qu’il appelle « les généreux qui revinrent » à la reconstruction d’un tissu intellectuel déchiré par le Zivilisationsbruch alors que l’« élément spécifiquement allemand de la culture et de la tradition germanique » se trouvait incapable de reconstituer. Parmi les représentants de la culture juive-allemande, qui lui semblent constituer plus une mésalliance qu’une symbiose, l’auteur de la Théorie de l’agir communicationnel rend hommage à Ernst Cassirer, le défenseur dévoué des principes, enracinés dans l’esprit des lumières, de la démocratie de Weimar et fervent adversaire de l’anti-humanisme de Heidegger ; il fait référence à Edmund Husserl, père de la phénoménologie, brillant et impitoyable interprète de la crise des sciences européennes ; il mentionne la skèpsis de Karl Löwith, critique de chaque philosophie de l’histoire qui prétend être une science ; et enfin il se souvient de Gershom Scholem, dont les études sur la mystique ont révélé l’essence authentiquement juive cachée dans le destin et la culture juive allemande. 26 Il cite encore la contribution théorique de l’école de Francfort – de l’exil revint Adorno, tout comme Horkheimer –, Helmuth Plessner, qui apporta une pierre essentielle à la fondation d’une nouvelle anthropologie philosophique, Ernst Bloch, dont le « marxisme expressionniste » nourrit les espoirs du premier mouvement étudiants de la République fédérale d’Allemagne. Habermas n’oublie pas l’apport théorique fourni par les intellectuels juifs allemands à la philosophie analytique, ni le rôle primordial joué par la communauté intellectuelle qui s’est attachée à repenser la nature du politique après

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 196

la crise européenne. Parmi eux, Hannah Arendt, Leo Strauss, Hans Jonas et Gunther Anders. 27 On aurait pu s’attendre à ce qu’il mentionne les efforts faits par Siegfried Landshut en direction d’une refondation de la science politique en Allemagne et de la diffusion d’une culture politique qui réconciliait l’individu et la sphère publique après le traumatisme de la guerre. Il n’y a cependant aucune trace d’un hommage d’Habermas à Landshut parmi les « généreux qui revinrent ». Absent de la mémoire collective de l’intelligentsia allemande contemporaine, cet oubli s’avère être, particulièrement après la publication de sa biographie, une triste poursuite de son exil existentiel. C’est d’autant plus surprenant, compte tenu de l’abondance d’informations et de détails sur son parcours intellectuel et humain emblématique de cette époque-là. 28 Il existe naturellement plusieurs raisons à l’oubli de Landshut. La première est évidemment l’abandon de son activité scientifique et l’impossibilité de la reprendre plusieurs années plus tard. Nous avons déjà souligné33 que l’histoire personnelle de Landshut est au carrefour de l’histoire culturelle et philosophique allemande, qui est elle-même étroitement liée à celle de d’émigration juive-allemande vers l’Amérique. Tandis que le principal courant de l’intelligentsia juive trouvait refuge aux États-Unis et y renouait des contacts avec la communauté scientifique d’Europe, Landshut se réfugia d’abord en Egypte, puis en Palestine, où il continua à écrire, mais d’une façon discontinue, en allemand et en hébreu. On pourrait aussi attribuer son manque de reconnaissance à son retour en Allemagne après avoir vécu en Palestine, considéré comme un véritable tabou pour la communauté juive d’Israël34. 29 La redécouverte de Landshut et de sa biographie tourmentée a permis au public allemand de se confronter pour la première fois au profil singulier d’un intellectuel disparu de la mémoire collective. Son nom dépassait ainsi le cadre étroit des disciplines de la science politique et de la sociologie – alors que ses œuvres étaient souvent citées – pour devenir protagoniste d’une histoire culturelle et humaine importante en soi. La biographie a permis ainsi de relier les différents chapitres de sa production théorique à un fil unitaire connectant les différentes phases de l’activité scientifique de Landshut sous l’ordre de la « nouvelle fondation de la science politique » en Allemagne. 30 Cette clé de lecture, tout à fait marquée par la réflexion ininterrompue de Landshut sur le metatema de la politique, risque cependant d’éclipser les nombreuses nuances d’une pensée irréductiblement plurielle au profit de la réhabilitation d’un Landshut qui se serait consacré entièrement à rétablir le corpus de la science politique traitant du régime démocratique après le Zivilisationsbruch. Nul doute que sa réflexion ait constamment tourné autour du politique, de ses déclinaisons et de ses dérives aporétiques, de la pensée politique de l’âge classique à la modernité, mais il est également vrai qu’il y a des différences significatives entre ses écrits des années 1920 et ceux de l’après-guerre, concernant à la fois l’objet de ses études, la méthode employée et la langue utilisée. 31 Si Landshut et quelques-uns de ses collègues de Hambourg, ville des banquiers et des armateurs35, ont travaillé et contribué dès les années 1950 au renouveau de la science politique à une époque où l’on se méfiait du projet « d’éducation politique », il est également vrai que pour la première fois Landshut a pu se consacrer à l’enseignement de la « politique » avec une grande indépendance et dans un cadre universitaire institutionnel. L’engagement politique avait une signification bien différente dans les années 1920, alors que l’intelligentsia de Weimar se trouvait paralysée face à la crise du

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 197

siècle qui révélait les lacunes de la pensée politique pour répondre aux besoins urgents dictés par l’actualité. 32 L’apolitisme est le trait dominant de l’époque, qui paya le prix de l’incapacité des intellectuels de l’Allemagne wilhelmienne à penser politiquement la crise qui balayait l’Europe. L’intelligentsia allemande considéra toujours avec suspicion la première expérience libérale et démocratique du pays, un soupçon auquel s’ajouta une indifférence générale pour le destin de la collectivité. Cette attitude était tout à fait répandue parmi les jeunes intellectuels de l’époque, peu intéressés par les événements politiques du siècle et enclins à trouver dans d’autres disciplines, notamment la philosophie, la littérature et la poésie, une réponse à la « tâche quotidienne » à laquelle Max Weber faisait mention pendant la conférence de Munich à propos de la science comme profession36. 33 Cette méfiance vis à vis du politique exerça un effet de polarisation : d’une part elle vit la majeure partie des intellectuels se réfugier dans la sphère privée, d’autre part elle favorisa l’ascension irrésistible du mythe politique et de l’irrationnel. « La sortie hors de la sphère publique, c’est à dire, de la politique, se produisit seulement plus tard – sous le joug de la domination totale, de la dictature et de la persécution […]. La politique nous ne l’avons pas apprise grâce à Jaspers, mais, plus tard, grâce à Hitler37 », déclara Dolf Steinberger, un autre témoin de cette époque tourmentée et membre fondateur, comme Landshut, de la science politique en RFA. Karl Löwith tenait des propos semblables, alors qu’il décidait d’aller étudier à Fribourg pour s’éloigner du chaos de la République des Conseils de Munich. Son autobiographie fut pour lui l’occasion d’exprimer son apolitisme38. 34 Le profil spirituel de l’époque aide à comprendre l’itinéraire intellectuel de Landshut, qui à la différence de ses compagnons de recherche, s’attarda pendant l’époque des « années folles » à étudier les concepts fondateurs du politique et la nature de ses contradictions. Landshut se concentra sur les origines de la crise allemande, une crise qui menaça l’esprit même de la conscience européenne, tout en essayant de réfléchir aux connexions entre politique et puissance, pour éviter d’en faire deux synonymes. Tandis que la philosophie semblait emprisonnée dans son égotisme, confirmé par le cogito ergo sum au début de la modernité, Landshut fut l’un des rares intellectuels de Weimar à mettre en œuvre un dispositif critique concernant les relations parmi les hommes, dans la Mitmenschlichkeit, afin de s’interroger sur des solutions à la crise de son temps. 35 Le thème de l’altérité s’impose dans le débat philosophique allemand ces années-là : Martin Buber place la relation « moi-toi » au centre de la sphère intersubjective au sein du messianisme communautaire de la tradition juive39 ; Karl Löwith élabore une anthropologie de « l’homme-personne » à l’aide des instruments théoriques de la phénoménologie40 ; Landshut redécouvre la nature proprement politique du vivre- ensemble, inaugurant une tradition de pensée puisant ses racines chez Aristote pour ne pas abandonner la politique moderne à l’alternative technicité-décisionisme. Alors que Buber et Löwith avaient élaboré leur concept de Mitmenschlichkeit, l’un au sein de la pensée théologique, l’autre du domaine éthique, Landshut privilégie la dimension véritablement politique, où l’homme abandonne la res intima pour devenir pleinement animal politique, un homme en tant que « politique ». 36 « Plus j’avançais dans mon travail, plus j’entrevoyais clairement ce cadre que je ressentais vraiment comme mien : la découverte des raisons fonctionnant réellement,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 198

qui dominent les ordres du Miteinanderleben et de leurs conditions historiques, afin de vérifier si, à partir d’ici, il était possible de s’assurer une voie d’accès aux problèmes d’aujourd’hui en quelque sorte suffisamment large41 ». Les ordres du Miteinanderleben, ses principes historiques et ses apories sont le fil rouge de l’œuvre de Landshut et caractéristiques de sa critique adressée au politique. Cependant, son concept du politique n’est pas considéré comme un. Landshut n’a jamais été tenté par l’idée de l’existence d’une « vérité » du politique, d’une substance ou d’une dimension transcendante à la base d’un logos authentiquement politique. La politique agit plutôt dans le vivre-ensemble car l’homme est un zoon politikon. La même articulation conceptuelle du politique est appuyée dans le travail de Landshut par la définition du Miteinanderleben, qui en éclaire la signification. 37 Que veut dire alors le Miteinanderleben dans le paradigme herméneutique de Landshut ? Peut-on en offrir une unique interprétation ? Du fait de l’a-systematicité et, dans une certaine mesure, de l’éclectisme de son travail, il est difficile de répondre par l’affirmative à la deuxième question, alors que les multiples significations que notre auteur prête au « vivre-ensemble » conduit à se demander si tout avait été dit jusqu’ici sur son profil intellectuel. Ce même concept du « vivre-ensemble » subit plus qu’une distorsion sémantique dans le développement de la pensée de l’auteur. Il vaut mieux, alors, brièvement et en guise de première approche, considérer quelques passages de la première analyse de Landshut consacrée aux concepts fondamentaux de la politique et jugée par Hennis comme l’acte de naissance de la science politique en Allemagne. 38 « Le simul vivere – écrit Landshut en citant Thomas d’Aquin – est le thème principal de toutes les discussions sur la nature du politique, celles qui concernent toujours le regimen. Il est propre aux hommes « vivant ensemble » [« zusammenlebenden » Menschen] de s’orienter premièrement sur ce qui constitue vraiment la coexistence [das Zusammenleben] […], c’est-à-dire à un finis qui correspond exactement à l’« ensemble » […] Ce finis, vrai bonum moltitudinis, constitue son unité. Cette unitas est l’essence propre de la coexistence, de sorte qu’elle soit un « vivre les uns avec les autres » [Miteinanderleben]. Cet « avec d’autres » [Miteinander] – précise-t-il – n’indique pas « un lien social » ou autre chose [ein dinghaftes Etwas], mais la manière et la forme de la coexistence-ensemble-avec les autres [mit-anderen-Zusammenlebens]42 ». 39 Dans cette citation, qui synthétise rapidement et efficacement l’objectif théorique de ses recherches, Landshut assigne à la politique un objet bien spécifique : non la puissance, la force, la technique, mais le simul vivere, le vivre ensemble, la coexistence, le « vivre-les-uns-avec-les-autres ». L’homme est naturaliter politique, alors que l’individu isolé, qui vit hors de la polis, de la communauté humaine, de la sphère de la coexistence, comme l’entend Aristote, est une bête ou un dieu43. La nature du vivre- ensemble réside dans son unité, qui est en même temps son finis. 40 Tandis qu’il examine quelques « concepts fondamentaux du politique », dont la Nation, l’État, l’opinion publique, Landshut explique plus précisément la signification de cette recherche : « Le principal intérêt qui guide ce travail n’est pas l’État ni un concept semblable, mais ce sont les hommes qui vivent ensemble, l’un avec l’autre, et pour lesquelles l’État existe en ce qu’il se rapporte à la coexistence des uns avec les autres44 ». L’État est ainsi construit à condition qu’il préserve la référence au vivre ensemble, mais ce n’est pas le moment fondateur de la coexistence. L’unité entre les hommes pour Landshut n’est pas en effet un lien imposé de l’extérieur, ni un contrat « social » entre individu ou entre des individus et un Léviathan. Il ne considère pas le politique comme

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 199

un rapport instrumental basé sur le calcul moyen-buts, ni comme un dispositif technique par lequel est assuré un équilibre des forces représentées par les intérêts sociaux en concurrence. 41 Le politique, c’est plutôt le champ des relations humaines, qui ne sont jamais définies une fois pour toutes, et exigent toujours une nouvelle définition : la recherche continue du bien commun de la part de l’individu engagé dans un contexte collectif est ce qui fait de l’homme un zoon politikon. Même s’il parle d’une introduction aux concepts fondamentaux de la politique, il explique déjà son but final : essayer de recomposer le binôme logos-demos que la crise de la conscience européenne avait dissout en ouvrant à la politique la porte de l’irrationalité. Dans le même temps, il s’attache aussi à essayer de définir la nature du « demos » à propos duquel il existe une pensée politique : dans les premiers écrits de Landshut, suivant l’expérience philosophique vécue à Fribourg avec Husserl et Heidegger, où le monde de l’homme se déclinait fondamentalement en tant que « monde commun » [Mit-welt] et alors comme Mitmenschlichkeit 45, le politique se comprend seulement à la lumière de la rencontre avec l’autre. 42 La tonalité avec laquelle il peint la politique est bien différente dans la période de l’après-guerre. L’accent mis sur la dimension intersubjective par Landshut dans ses écrits de jeunesse, change avec la maturité, sur la « forme » de la coexistence paisible. La définition du politique donnée par Landshut dans l’Evangelisches Kirchenlexikon est en ce sens très parlante : « La communauté politique, l’objet du politique, correspond à la communauté de la vie, c’est-à-dire une appartenance réciproque qui réunit l’existence entière de ses associés […]. L’unité de la communauté trouve sa base dans le lien universel d’une idée concrète de conduite de la vie, d’un éthos qui gouverne la communauté […] qui voue le respect à chaque membre – quel qu’il soit – l’idée qui correspond à l’unité de l’entité collective [Gemeinwesen] est transcendante »46. L’idée de Gemeinwesen précède donc logiquement l’existence historique et concrète de la communauté politique, qui obtient son unité de cet éthos qui semble ici être un acquis. Alors que dans ses écrits des années 1920, les concepts fondamentaux du politique dérivent du Miteinanderleben, le rapport est inversé trente ans plus tard, alors que la communauté devient fonction de cet éthos qu’il régit et qui le transcende. 43 Dans le cadre limité de cet article, il est difficile de développer davantage la réflexion concernant sa conception de l’ethos unique par rapport à la pluralité du « vivre avec les autres », dont les composantes sont « changeantes et dynamiques47 ». On retrouve la portée de ce glissement sémantique de façon plus évidente dans son essai de 1969 : « La constitution est l’ordre [Status] déterminé d’une entité collective [Gemeinwesen] politique. Il n’y a aucun Gemeinwesen sans constitution politique, c’est-à-dire, sans institutions, règles et sans relations spécifiques qui favorisent l’unité et la consistance continue de l’existence collective. […] La constitution et le Gemeinwesen politique, définissent la même et identique chose48 ». Ce n’est plus ainsi le Miteinander- Zusammenleben qui détermine la sphère du politique, mais la loi fondamentale de l’État, qui coïncide presque totalement avec cette entité collective qui constitue la coexistence. 44 Après l’omniprésence de la sphère relationnelle dans ses écrits de jeunesse, on retrouve donc ensuite dans la réflexion de Landshut la puissance transcendante de la Constitution, c’est-à-dire du lien qui mène de nouveau à l’unité de la pluralité du vivre- ensemble. On trouve probablement les raisons de ce tournant théorique dans le contexte politique de la RFA, où toutes les disciplines, et la science politique en premier

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 200

lieu, étaient imprégnées par la nécessité d’établir un nouvel ordre démocratique. Cependant, il ne peut pas s’empêcher de réfléchir et de s’interroger sur le rôle joué par la dimension intersubjective dans sa pensée. 45 Si on envisage l’œuvre de Landshut à travers sa contribution à la fondation de la science politique, le Miteinander-Zusammenleben, notion fondatrice et fil rouge des premières écrits de Landshut, se réduit à un concept en devenir et gravé par la langue de l’analytique existentielle. En suivant, au contraire, le fil conducteur de son œuvre, sa contribution théorique sur le « vivre-ensemble » politique et ses contradictions, on donne une égale dignité aux différentes étapes de son travail et il est possible de s’employer à aborder de façon critique certains passages de sa réflexion pour mettre à l’épreuve sa potentialité herméneutique49. Cette possibilité d’interprétation semble être confirmée par les essais et les articles – rares, discontinus, disparates – écrits par Landshut pendant son exil. En observant l’essai sur la révolution de Landauer, l’enquête philosophique et sociologique sur le kibboutz, ou encore l’article sur les perspectives d’une nouvelle Aliya en Palestine à partir de la considération rétrospective de Landshut en tant que fondateur de la science politique, la période de l’exil – d’un point de vue uniquement scientifique – semble être une interruption prolongée de son travail. Ce n’est pas le cas si on comprend le Miteinander-Zusammenleben comme une clé pour interpréter le politique et ses apories historiques et conceptuelles. L’essai sur Landauer apparaît alors comme une réflexion critique sur les formes qui lient la personne et la communauté et sur le concept de la révolution en tant que processus historique continu. 46 L’enquête sur des kibboutz se révèle ainsi être une étude sur les risques représentés pour le Miteinanderleben des kibbouzim par l’isolement croissant au monde environnant et par la disparition de l’idée d’ethos au profit des règles et les règlements complexes auxquels toute la communauté est tenue de se conformer. L’article sur Aliya porte des conclusions pessimistes sur l’efficacité de la part de facteurs externes (dans ce cas, la vague croissante de l’antisémitisme en Europe) sur la fondation d’un Miteinander et de son noyau idéal. Ce qui importe à Landshut, ici comme dans ses précédents et prochains écrits, est de placer fermement au centre de la discussion la question fondamentale des conditions de coexistence, du monde commun, de la vie-ensemble, du « vivre l’un avec l’autre » : en bref, la question des hommes et des femmes impliqués dans la coexistence au sein d’un espace public, qui selon Landshut était de plus en plus abandonnés aux contradictions de la modernité alors qu’aucune pensée politique n’était forgée pour faire face à ces temps extraordinaires et combattre ses contradictions. 47 De ce point de vue, on peut affirmer que les écrits rédigés lors de son étape en Palestine ont eu un rôle central : la réflexion critique sur les concepts du politique répond ici théoriquement aux besoins dictés par la réalité d’une communauté en formation. Landshut observe directement sur le terrain les différentes étapes de ce processus, comme ses collègues Martin Buber, Ernst Simon, Georg Landauer. À la différence de ces derniers, la production intellectuelle de Landshut pendant cette période tomba dans une sorte d’oubli : lorsqu’il reprit l’enseignement après son retour en Allemagne, il n’en fit jamais mention, indirectement ou directement. Néanmoins, c’est précisément ce silence qui nous invite à réfléchir sur la portée des considérations développées alors, et à revisiter la critique de sa pensée mise au point pendant cette période-là. En partant de la réflexion de Landshut sur les conditions du Miteinander-Zusammenleben, il est alors intéressant d’étudier s’il ne se cache pas dans cette pensée discontinue et parfois même

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 201

contradictoire quelques éléments décisifs pour construire aujourd’hui une véritable théorie de la démocratie, quand l’appel au « bien commun » et au « vivre ensemble » dans la sphère politique se fait de plus en plus entendre.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Aristote s.d. Politica, 1253a 29

Buber, Martin 1923 Ich und Du, Gerlingen 1974.

Diner, Dan (ed.) 1988 Zivilisationsbruch: Denken nach Auschwitz, Frankfurt a.M.

Duverger, Maurice 1959 Die politische Parteien, ed. et traduit par Siegfried Landshut (Veröffentlichungen der Akademie für Gemeinwirtschaft Hamburg), Tübingen.

Finer, Herman 1957-1958 Der moderne Staat. Theorie und Praxis, ed. et traduit par Siegfried Landshut, vol. I Grundlage (Internationale Sozialwissenschaftliche Bibliothek) Stuttgart-Düsseldorf, vol. II et III (Veröffentlichungen der Akademie für Gemeinwirtschaft Hamburg), Stuttgart-Düsseldorf.

Fiorletta, Elena 2005a « Siegfried Landshut tra passato e futuro. Intervista ad Angelo Bolaffi », in http:// www.giornaledifilosofia.net/public/scheda.php?id=33, dernier accès le 10.12.2012. 2005b « Er war ein Perspektivenöffner auf die Moderne. Interview mit Martin Sattler », in http://www.giornaledifilosofia.net/public/scheda.php?id=32, dernier accès le 10.12.2012.

Habermas, Jürgen 2011 « Grossherzige Remigranten. Über jüdische Philosophen in der frühen Bundesrepublik. Eine persönliche Erinnerung », in Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 2.7.2011.

Hennis, Wilhelm 1970 « Zu Siegfried Landshuts wissenschaftlichem Werk », in Zeitschrift für Politik, 17 (1970), c. I, pp. 1-14 (Ibidem, Wilhelm Hennis, Politik und praktische Philosophie. Schriften zur politischen Theorie, Stuttgart 1977, pp. 275-293)

Kessel, Wolfgang 2000 Das politische Gemeinwesen, in R. Nicolaysen (ed.), Polis und Moderne. Siegfried Landshut in Heutiger Sicht, Berlin-Hamburg 2000, pp. 81-93.

Krauss, Marita 2004 « Jewish Remigration: an Overview of an Emerging Discipline », in LBI Year Book, vol. 49 (2004).

Krohn, Claus-Dieter 1993 Intellectuals in Exile, Refugee Scholars and the New School for Social Research, University of Massachusetts Press.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 202

Landshut, Siegfried 1925 Über einige Grundbegriffe der Politik, in Ibidem, Politik. Grundbegriffe und Analyse Leipzig (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit.) 1926 « Eine Frage europäischer Politik », Die Gesellschaft, 3 (1926), vol. II. 1929 Kritik der Soziologie. Freiheit und Gleichheit als Usprungsproblem der Soziologie, München- Leipzig (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., pp. 43-188). 1931 « Max Webers geistgeschichtliche Bedeutung », Neue Jahrbücher für Wissenschaft und Jugendbildung, 7 (1931), pp. 507-516 (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., vol. II, pp. 539-555). 1931 « Marx redivivus », Neue Blatter für den Sozialismus, 2 (1931), pp. 611-617. 1932 Der Begriff des Ökonomischen. Einige Kapitel aus einer historisch-analytischen Untersuchung über den Bedeutungswandel des Begriffs des Ökonomischen, dans Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., vol. I, pp. 189-290. 1934 « La crise et la politique monétaire de Président Roosevelt », in L’Egypte Contemporaine. Revue de la Société Royale d’Economie Politique de Statistique et de Législation [Le Caire], 25. Année, n. 148-149 (Mars-Avril 1934), pp. 501-517. 1934 « Les grandes problèmes sociaux de notre époque », in L’Egypte Contemporaine. Revue de la Société Royale d’Economie Politique de Statistique et de Législation [Le Caire], 25. Année, n. 150 (Mai 1934), pp. 501-517. 1939 La révolution sociale dans la conception de Landauer, Centre culturel du Histadrut (ed.) Gustav Landauer. Au vingtième anniversaire de son assassinat, Tel Aviv 1939, pp. 44-57 (en hébreu). 1941 À la fin d’un siècle (1840-1940), dans Berl Katznelson (Ed.), Ba-kur, 1. Edition, Tel Aviv 1941, pp. 58-67 (en hébreu). 1944a Landshut, Kibboutz (Bibliothèque Sioniste 4), Jerusalem 1944 (en hébreu), 2. Edition par Yad Tabenkin, Research and Documentation Center of the United Kibbutz Movement, avec une introduction de Gideon M. Kressel, Ramat Efal 2000. Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., 2 vol., pp. 770-977. 1944b « Réflexions sur l’Alija », Beajot [Problèmes], année 1, cahier I (avril 1944), pp. 152-157. 1945 « L’essence de la société moderne selon Karl Marx et Max Weber », in Iyyun [Réflexions], vol. I, cahier I (Octobre 1945), pp. 102-125 [en hébreu] (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., pp. 608-653). 1950 Jewish communities in the Muslim Countries of the Middle East. A survey, pour The American- Jewish Committee and the Anglo Jewish Association, édité par le Jewish Chronicle, London. 1959 « Politik », dans Evangeliche Kirchenlexikon. Kirchlichtheologisches Handwörterbuch, Heinz Brunotte et Otto Weber (eds.), vol. 3 (P-Z), Göttingen 1959, pp. 248-250 (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., pp. 294-295). 1969 « Verfassung », Première publication du Wörterbuch der Soziologie, Wilhelm Bernsdorf (ed.), deuxième édition, Stuttgart 1969, pp. 1230-1233 (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., p. 397). 2004 Politik. Grundbegriffe und Analyse, ed. par R. Nicolaysen, Berlin-Brandeburg.

Löwith, Karl 1928 Das Individuum in der Rolle des Mitmenschen, Stuttgart 1981-1988. 1986 Ma vie en Allemagne avant et après 1933 : récit, Paris 1988.

Marx, Karl 1932 Der historische Materialismus. Die Frühschriften, 2 vol. ed. par Siegfried Landshut et Jacob Peter Meyer, avec la collaboration de Friedrich Salomon (Kröners Éditions de poche 91 et 92), Leipzig.

Nicolaysen, Rainer 1997 Die Wiederentdeckung der Politik. Eine Biographie, Frankfurt a.M.

Riedel, Manfred 1972 Die Rehabilitierung der praktischen Philosophie, Freiburg.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 203

Sternberger, Dolf 1987 Gang zwischen Meistern, Frankfurt a.M. de Tocqueville, Alexis 1954 Das Zeitalter der Gleichheit. Eine Auswahl aus dem Gesamtwerk, ed. par Siegfried Landshut (Kröners Éditions de poche 221), Stuttgart. 2. Édition 1967.

Weber, Max 1919 Wissenschaft als Beruf, W. J. Mommsen (ed.), Max Weber Gesamtausgabe, vol. 17, Tübigen 1992.

NOTES

1. Lettre de Siegfried Landshut à Fritz Warburg, 29.2.1936, dans Rainer Nicolaysen, Die Wiederentdeckung der Politik. Eine Biographie, Frankfurt a.M. 1997, p. 218. Toutes les informations sur la vie de Landshut sont issues de cette monographie. 2. La définition est de l’historien Dan Diner. Ibidem (ed.), Zivilisationsbruch: Denken nach Auschwitz, Frankfurt/M. 1988. 3. Pour plus d’informations, voir son curriculum vitae qu’il a lui-même écrit en 1928. Voir Nicolaysen, cit., p. 31. 4. Ibid. 5. Siegfried Landshut, Über einige Grundbegriffe der Politik, in Ibidem, Politik. Grundbegriffe und Analyse, ed. par R. Nicolaysen, Berlin-Brandeburg 2004, pp. 327-386. 6. Wilhelm Hennis, « Zu Siegfried Landshuts wissenschaftlichem Werk », in Zeitschrift für Politik, 17 (1970), c. I, pp. 1-14, ici p. 4 ; maintenant aussi dans Wilhelm Hennis, Politik und praktische Philosophie. Schriften zur politischen Theorie, Stuttgart 1977, pp. 275-293, ici p. 279. 7. Cette question est très débattue par les historiens, voir Nicolaysen, p. 65. 8. Ibid., p. 81. 9. Ibid., p. 77. 10. Landshut, « Eine Frage europäischer Politik », Die Gesellschaft, 3 (1926), vol. II. 11. Landshut, Kritik der Soziologie. Freiheit und Gleichheit als Usprungsproblem der Soziologie, München-Leipzig 1929, maintenant dans Ibidem, Politik, cit., pp. 43-188. Voir aussi Ibidem, « Max Webers geistgeschichtliche Bedeutung », Neue Jahrbücher für Wissenschaft und Jugendbildung, 7 (1931), pp. 507-516, maintenant aussi dans Ibidem, Politik, cit., vol. II, pp. 539-555. 12. Landshut, « Marx redivivus », Neue Blatter für den Sozialismus, 2 (1931), pp. 611-617. 13. Karl Marx, Der historische Materialismus. Die Frühschriften, 2 vol. Ed. par Siegfried Landshut et Jacob Peter Meyer, avec la collaboration de Friedrich Salomon (Kröners Éditions de poche 91 et 92), Leipzig 1932. 14. Landshut, Der Begriff des Ökonomischen. Einige Kapitel aus einer historisch-analytischen Untersuchung über den Bedeutungswandel des Begriffs des Ökonomischen, maintenant aussi dans Ibidem, Politik, cit., vol. I, pp. 189-290. 15. Landshut, « La crise et la politique monétaire de Président Roosevelt », dans L’Egypte Contemporaine. Revue de la Société Royale d’Economie Politique de Statistique et de Législation [Le Caire], 25. N. 148-149 (Mars-Avril 1934), pp. 501-517. Ibidem, « Les grands problèmes sociaux de notre époque », dans L’Egypte Contemporaine. Revue de la Société Royale d’Economie Politique de Statistique et de Législation [Le Caire], 25. N. 150 (Mai 1934), pp. 501-517. 16. Nicolaysen, cit., p. 498. 17. Dans une lettre à Bernhard Kahn, à l’époque directeur de l’European Office de l’American Joint Distribution Committee, Landshut explique les raisons qui inspirèrent sa recherche : « Je trouve que si une réflexion scientifique peut quand même être encore engagée, la tâche d’une clarification

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 204

du point de vue historique-sociologique sur le destin juif dans le monde moderne c’est ce qu’un sociologue juif aujourd’hui doit faire ». Nicolaysen, p. 208. 18. Ibid., p. 220. 19. Ibid., p. 503. 20. Landshut, La révolution sociale dans la conception de Landauer, Centre culturel du Histadrut (ed.) Gustav Landauer. Au vingtième anniversaire de son assassinat, Tel Aviv 1939, pp. 44-57 (en hébreu). 21. Landshut, À la fin d’un siècle (1840-1940), dans Berl Katznelson (Ed.), Ba-kur, 1. Edition, Tel Aviv 1941, pp. 58-67 (en hébreu). 22. Landshut, Kibboutz (Bibliothèque Sioniste 4), Jerusalem 1944 (en hébreu), 2. Edition par Ya Tabenkin, Research and Documentation Center of the United Kibbutz Movement, avec une introduction de Gideon M. Kressel, Ramat Efal 2000. Maintenant aussi en Ibidem, Politik, cit., 2 vol., pp. 770-977. 23. Landshut, « Réflexions sur l’Alija », Beajot [Problèmes], année 1, cahier I (avril 1944), pp. 152-157. 24. Landshut, « L’essence de la société moderne selon Karl Marx et Max Weber », in Iyyun [Réflexions], vol. I, cahier I (Octobre 1945), pp. 102-125 [en hébreu]. Maintenant aussi dans Ibidem, Politik, cit., pp. 608-653. 25. Landshut, Jewish communities in the Muslim Countries of the Middle East. A survey, pour The American-Jewish Committee and the Anglo Jewish Association, édité par le Jewish Chronicle, London 1950. 26. Cf. Claus-Dieter Krohn, Intellectuals in Exile, Refugee Scholars and the New School for Social Research, University of Massachusetts Press, 1993, p. 199. 27. Alexis de Tocqueville, Das Zeitalter der Gleichheit. Eine Auswahl aus dem Gesamtwerk, ed. par Siegfried Landshut (Kröners Éditions de poche 221), Stuttgart 1954. 2. Édition 1967. 28. Nicolaysen, cit., p. 366. 29. Herman Finer, Der moderne Staat. Theorie und Praxis, ed. et traduit par Siegfried Landshut, vol. I Grundlage (Internationale Sozialwissenschaftliche Bibliothek) Stuttgart-Düsseldorf 1957, voll. II et III (Veröffentlichungen der Akademie für Gemeinwirtschaft Hamburg), Stuttgart-Düsseldorf 1958. 30. Maurice Duverger, Die politische Parteien, ed. et traduit par Siegfried Landshut (Veröffentlichungen der Akademie für Gemeinwirtschaft Hamburg), Tübingen 1959. 31. Selon Nicolaysen au début des années 60, Landshut demanda à son ami Daniel Dishon, à Jérusalem, de lui envoyer de la littérature sur le kibboutz, afin de reprendre son étude sur les « établissements communautaires », mais on ne sait pas s’il suivait le développement des nouvelles recherches. Cf. Nicolaysen, op. cit., p. 427 et 559. 32. Jürgen Habermas, « Grossherzige Remigranten. Über jüdische Philosophen in der frühen Bundesrepublik. Eine persönliche Erinnerung », in Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 2.7.2011. 33. Cf. E. Fiorletta, « Siegfried Landshut tra passato e futuro. Intervista ad Angelo Bolaffi », in http://www.giornaledifilosofia.net/public/scheda.php?id=33, dernier accès le 10.12.2012. 34. Marita Krauss, « Jewish Remigration: an Overview of an Emerging Discipline », dans LBI Year Book, vol. 49 (2004), p. 111. 35. Cf. E. Fiorletta, « Er war ein Perspektivenöffner auf die Moderne. Interview mit Martin Sattler », dans http://www.giornaledifilosofia.net/public/scheda.php?id=32, dernier accès le 10.12.2012. 36. Max Weber, Wissenschaft als Beruf, W. J. Mommsen (ed.), Max Weber Gesamtausgabe, vol. 17, Tübigen 1992, p. 46. 37. Cf. D. Sternberger, Gang zwischen Meistern, Frankfurt am Main 1987. 38. Cf. Karl Löwith, Ma vie en Allemagne avant et après 1933 : récit, Paris 1988. 39. Martin Buber, Ich und Du (1923), Gerlingen 1974. 40. Karl Löwith, Das Individuum in der Rolle des Mitmenschen (1928), Stuttgart 1981-1988.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 205

41. Du CV de Landshut, cf. Nicolaysen, pp. 64-65. 42. Landshut, Über einige Grundbegriffe der Politik, cit., p. 327. 43. Aristote, Politica, 1253a 29. Remarquable est le rappel de Landshut à l’Aristotélisme politique, qui aurait aussi alimenté les réflexions de Hannah Arendt et ensuite toute la tradition d’études allemandes sous le nom de la réhabilitation de la philosophie pratique que l’on a nommé. Cf. Manfred Riedel, Die Rehabilitierung der praktischen Philosophie, Freiburg 1972. 44. Landshut, Über einige Grundbegriffe der Politik, cit., p. 328. 45. En plus des philosophes déjà mentionnés, Buber et Löwith, on se rappelle aussi de Hermann Cohen, Die Religion der Vernunft aus den Quellen des Judentums (1919) ; Franz Rosenzweig, Der Stern der Erlösung (1921) ; Max Scheler, Wesen und Formen der Sympathie (1923). 46. Landshut, « Politik », dans Evangeliche Kirchenlexikon. Kirchlichtheologisches Handwörterbuch, Heinz Brunotte et Otto Weber (eds.), vol. 3 (P-Z), Göttingen 1959, pp. 248-250. Maintenant Ibidem, Politik, cit., pp. 294-295. 47. Landshut, Über einige Grundbegriffe der Politik, cit., p. 328. 48. Landshut, « Verfassung », Première publication du Wörterbuch der Soziologie, Wilhelm Bernsdorf (ed.), deuxième édition, Stuttgart 1969, pp. 1230-1233, maintenant Landshut, Politik, cit., p. 397. 49. Wolfgang Kessel a compris parfaitement le rôle central de l’idée de la communauté politique dans la pensée de Landshut. Cf. Kessel, Das politische Gemeinwesen, in R. Nicolaysen (ed.), Polis und Moderne. Siegfried Landshut in Heutiger Sicht, Berlin-Hamburg 2000, pp. 81-93.

AUTEUR

ELENA FIORLETTA

Elena Fiorletta a obtenu sa licence en Philosophie (magna cum laude) à l’université de Rome La Sapienza. En 2009, elle a reçu son doctorat (PhD) en Philosophies et Théories sociales contemporaines de l’université de Bari. Sa thèse, intitulée « Economia, politica, società. Il contributo di Siegfried Landshut a un’analisi del moderno », vise à reconstruire trois moments clé de la première phase de la pensée philosophique de cet auteur Juif-Allemand encore inconnu. Elle a conduit ses recherches en Allemagne, à l’université de Heidelberg, de Francfort et de Hambourg. En 2012 elle a fait un post-doctorat au Franz Rosenzweig Research Center de l’université Hébraïque de Jérusalem. Elle est actuellement en post-doc au CFRJ dans le cadre de la bourse Bettencourt Schueller, pour une recherche centrée sur le concept de Gemeinwesen dans la pensée de Landshut. Elle contribue à l’axe de recherche du CRFJ sur les identités religieuses en Israël aujourd’hui.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 206

Les Tcherkesses d’Israël : des « Arabes pas arabes »

Eleonore Merza

1 Les quelques 4 500 Tcherkesses d’Israël, arrivés dans la seconde moitié du XXe siècle dans ce qui était alors une partie de l’Empire Ottoman, présentent une équation peu banale : ils sont Israéliens sans être juifs et ils sont musulmans sans être Arabes- Palestiniens (ils sont Caucasiens). Méconnue du public israélien, cette minorité discrète fourmille d’anecdotes de ce genre : beaucoup ont la peau et les yeux clairs et ils ne répondent pas aux clichés physiques répandus (et « attendus ») concernant les musulmans. Beaucoup portent, en revanche, un prénom musulman – et en particulier les hommes – ce qui a pour effet immédiat de les classifier comme « Arabes ».

2 Jusqu’en 1948, le projet sioniste dans son intégralité fût dédié à l’établissement non pas d’un État où les Juifs pourraient enfin vivre à l’abri de l’antisémitisme mais d’un État juif. Theodor Herzl avait déjà formulé dans L’État juif que « les peuples chez lesquels les Juifs résident sont tous antisémites, sans exception aucune, que ce soit honteusement ou ouvertement2 » et la construction d’un État juif marque la vision de l’avenir que le sionisme envisage. De fait, lorsque l’État d’Israël est proclamé, il est défini comme l’État du peuple juif, héritier de l’Israël biblique et du Royaume de Judée. Cette définition exclusive va être lourde de conséquences pour la construction des catégories citoyennes. Mais avant même sa création, certaines figures du sionisme s’opposent déjà au sionisme politique d’Herzl. Asher Hirsch Ginsberg, que l’on connaît mieux par son pseudonyme d’auteur, Ahad Ha’am, est l’un d’eux. Alors qu’il bénéficie d’une reconnaissance morale dans les cercles sionistes, il est persuadé que jamais le futur État ne pourra rassembler tous les Juifs et il s’oppose au sionisme politique d’Herzl. Après s’être rendu en Palestine, il consigne ses impressions et se révèle critique sur le fonctionnement des colonies. Dans son texte Emet me-Eretz Yisrael (« La vérité d’Eretz Israël»), il s’oppose au mythe de la terre vierge largement véhiculé par les leaders sionistes et il leur rappelle que leur analyse a oublié les Arabes : Nous avons l’habitude de croire qu’Eretz Israël est actuellement une terre vide, un désert non cultivé, et toute personne qui veut y acheter des terres peut le faire librement. Mais en vérité, il n’en est pas ainsi. Dans tout le pays, il est difficile de

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 207

trouver un champ qui n’ait pas été ensemencé (...) Nous avons l’habitude de croire que les Arabes sont tous des sauvages du désert, un peuple qui serait comme un âne qui ne voit ou ne comprend pas ce qu’il se passe autour de lui. Il s’agit là d’une grave erreur (...)3. 3 En effet, le programme politique sioniste ne pense pas le statut des minorités dans le cadre de l’État juif tel qu’il est imaginé, et ce sera encore plus le cas après la concrétisation de son objectif en 1948. D’ailleurs, au sortir de la guerre, les différents écrits politiques n’incluent pas d’analyses du « problème arabe » (‘habayyah haAravit) : les quatre-cinquième des Palestiniens avaient fui ou avait été expulsés, on pensait que la minorité restante ne pouvait être un problème : la minorité de Palestiniens toujours présente sur le territoire, et considérée comme insignifiante, choisirait sans doute l’exode ou serait, de toute façon, encouragée à émigrer vers les pays voisins4.

4 Cette rhétorique qui, en quelque sorte, « minore les minorités », a des effets sur l’ensemble de la société israélienne contemporaine qui a bien du mal à discerner les groupes et leurs particularismes. Mais l’opinion publique n’est qu’à l’image des catégories construites par l’État et elle connaît mal l’ensemble non-juif d’Israël. 5 Le 16 mai 1948, lorsqu’il est intronisé premier Président israélien, Haïm Weizmann déclare : Je voudrais que cela soit clair pour les citoyens Arabes d’Israël, qu’ils soient Chrétiens, Musulmans, Druzes, Bédouins ou Tcherkesses, la résidence présidentielle est ouverte à chacun d’entre vous. La résidence présidentielle est la maison de tous les citoyens5.

Des Arabes « pas arabes »

6 Les catégories statistiques énoncées et utilisées par Israël en 2010 n’en sont d’ailleurs pas moins problématiques pour les Tcherkesses. Le Bureau central des statistiques (CBS) classifie les groupes selon deux variables. Ainsi, en 2009, on pouvait lire que la population était répartie en trois catégories : « juive », « arabe » et « autres », cette dernière catégorie étant jusqu’en 1995 incluse dans « arabe ». Les Tcherkesses ne sont ni juifs ni Arabes-Palestiniens, ils sont israéliens et musulmans mais ces deux assignations n’ont pas été pensées pour fonctionner de pair. La catégorie « autre » rassemble un ensemble hétérogène constitué de certains – mais pas tous – migrants russes que la loi religieuse ne considère pas comme d’authentiques juifs, de travailleurs étrangers mais également, dans certains documents, de Druzes et de Tcherkesses. Lorsqu’on adopte la seconde grille de lecture utilisée par le CBS qui classifie les groupes en quatre religions : juifs, musulmans, chrétiens et druzes, alors les Tcherkesses sont comptabilisés – légitimement – parmi les musulmans. Mais il arrive aussi que dans certains documents administratifs ou pour des raisons pratiques, ils soient inclus avec la minorité druze. Enfin, ce groupe « druzo-tcherkesse » est parfois considéré comme un groupe homogène distinct, mais il est aussi parfois rattaché au groupe dominant « arabe ».

7 Ainsi, lorsque Henia Markovitch présente à la commission gouvernementale en charge de la fonction publique son rapport en mai 2004, dans lequel elle évalue la professionnalisation des non-juifs, le titre choisi pose en lui même problème : « La juste représentation des Arabes, y compris des Druzes et des Tcherkesses, dans la fonction publique »6. Chen Bram, le seul anthropologue israélien qui a travaillé sur la communauté tcherkesse du pays et qui a rédigé des rapports sur leurs conditions pour

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 208

le gouvernement, n’hésite pas à écrire : « (…) comme la plupart des Arabes israéliens, ils sont musulmans sunnites mais les Tcherkesses se décrivent comme une communauté séparée, distincte des autres sunnites, et reconnue comme telle7 ». En fait, si les Tcherkesses tiennent à marquer ouvertement leur distinction, cette dernière ne joue pas – bien au contraire et comme c’est le cas des Druzes – sur leur appartenance religieuse. Ils se revendiquent comme pleinement musulmans, mais sur un particularisme ethnico-culturel : ils ne sont pas Arabes ou Palestiniens, ils sont Tcherkesses et Caucasiens. Lorsque je rencontrais le journaliste Yoav Stern du quotidien Haaretz, qui avait écrit plusieurs articles traitant de la communauté et qu’il me donnait sa carte, je pouvais y lire qu’il appartenait au bureau des « Arab Affairs ». Avec quelques autres journalistes du quotidien, il est l’auteur de l’essentiel des articles qui, en définitive, parle des minorités non-juives. Ces dernières, bien qu’elles soient la plupart parfaitement distinguées dans les écrits, sont considérées par ce grand quotidien, marqué à gauche, comme relevant de l’ensemble arabe. Ces auteurs ont d’ailleurs bien du mal à classifier les Tcherkesses, comme toute minorité non-juive et musulmane, autrement que par ce terme. Mais dans les catégorisations, lorsqu’elles arrangent des communautés d’intérêt – que ce soit l’État d’Israël ou les nationalistes palestiniens – ils sont tantôt classifiés comme Arabes, tantôt distingués. 8 Sur le site du ministère israélien des Affaires Étrangères, on trouve de nombreuses brochures destinées aux représentations diplomatiques et aux touristes. L’une d’elle, qui présente Israël comme une « (…) une mosaïque composée d’ethnies différentes dont la coexistence est confortée par les rouages d’un État démocratique », se propose de dresser un court panorama des différentes populations qui composent la société israélienne. Le document est introduit de la façon suivante : « Plus d’1,7 million d’habitants, soit 24 % de la population israélienne, ne sont pas juifs. Bien que définis collectivement comme citoyens arabes d’Israël, ils se répartissent en divers groupes arabophones dotés de caractéristiques distinctes ». Le premier paragraphe est consacré aux « Arabes musulmans », le second aux « Arabes bédouins »– qui sont d’ailleurs musulmans –, le troisième aux « Arabes chrétiens », le quatrième aux Druzes et le cinquième aux Tcherkesses qui sont décrits en ces termes : Au nombre d’environ 3000, ils vivent dans deux villages du nord. Bien que n’ayant pas la même origine arabe et la même culture que la communauté musulmane du pays, ils sont des musulmans sunnites qui maintiennent une identité ethnique distincte : tout en participant à la vie d’Israël, ils ne s’assimilent ni à la société juive ni à la communauté musulmane8. 9 Ces quelques lignes mettent en lumière deux problèmes importants de catégorisation dans la rhétorique officielle. Le premier est la segmentation du groupe palestinien (appelé ici arabe d’Israël), le second l’inclusion des Tcherkesses dans la catégorie arabe. Et s’il est effectivement noté qu’ils ne partagent pas une même « origine » arabe, le fait que le terme « culture » soit apposé à « communauté musulmane » pose problème. Il aurait été légitime d’écrire que les Tcherkesses revendiquent une culture différente des Palestiniens ou des Arabes d’Israël pour reprendre la terminologie utilisée par l’État. Car s’ils ne se reconnaissent pas comme les héritiers d’une culture commune avec les Palestiniens musulmans, ils ne le font pas plus avec les Palestiniens chrétiens. Ils partagent, en revanche, avec la communauté musulmane du pays un même islam. Mais cette courte présentation indique également que les Tcherkesses sont mentionnés – et officiellement reconnus – comme un groupe distinct qu’il est, lorsqu’on considère que

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 209

sa population totale est estimée à 4 500 individus, surprenant de trouver répertorié au même niveau que d’autres groupes numériquement autrement plus importants.

Lorsque religion, nationalité et citoyenneté sont confondues dans et par la juridiction israélienne

10 Le terme hébreu leom signifie littéralement « nation » et il est généralement traduit par « affiliation ethnique ». Assigné par le ministère de l’Intérieur, il sert de classification officielle des citoyens israéliens. La nationalité israélienne n’existe pas en tant que telle, dans un État défini ethniquement et pensé comme nation juive, religion, nationalité et citoyenneté se confondent. Sur le formulaire proposé par le site internet du ministère de l’Intérieur, cent vingt leomim sont reconnus, et indiqués comme tels. Et effectivement, parmi eux cent seize nationalités y sont déclinées d’Abkhaze à Yougoslave, pour la plupart rattachées à un pays. On y trouve encore d’obsolètes nationalités Est et Ouest-Allemandes ou un énigmatique « Hébreu ». Toutes concernent majoritairement les pays d’origine des individus juifs installés en Israël. Cinq leomim ne suivent pas ce modèle : « Arabe », « Juif », « Druze », « Bédouin » et « Tcherkesse » qui représentent des groupes transnationaux plus larges. Ce sont les cinq leomim qui apparaissaient, jusqu’en 2005, sur les cartes nationales d’identité (teudat zehut) israéliennes. La tehudat zehut est constituée de deux documents séparés qui doivent être présentés ensemble. Le premier, la carte proprement dite, comporte un numéro d’immatriculation, le nom de famille, le prénom, le nom du père, celui de la mère, la date et le lieu de naissance, le leom (jusqu’en 2005), le genre, le lieu et la date d’émission selon le double calendrier géorgien et hébraïque, ainsi qu’un portrait photographique en couleur. Si, avant 2005, le document incluait une référence au leom, une décision de la Cour Suprême l’a supprimée, estimant qu’elle pouvait être vecteur de discrimination entre citoyens juifs et non-juifs, et en particulier pour ceux catégorisés « Arabes ». D’ailleurs, la disparition du leom n’a pas été positivement reçue par la communauté tcherkesse, dont les membres avaient alors l’occasion d’être officiellement reconnus comme non-Palestiniens. Si l’apposition du leom sur le document pouvait effectivement être considérée comme un élément discriminant lors des contrôles, il demeure tout à fait aisé de distinguer les citoyens juifs des non-juifs. Outre, le nom de famille, mais plus souvent le prénom ainsi que ceux des parents qui sont souvent culturellement marqués, une ligne supplémentaire apparaît sur les seules cartes d’identité des citoyens israéliens juifs. Sous la date de naissance civile, retranscrite selon le calendrier géorgien, est notifiée sa correspondance hébraïque. En 2007, la Knesset a voté un amendement de la législation qui stipule qu’une personne juive peut demander à ce qu’elle n’apparaisse pas, mais dans les faits, et hormis quelques militants, rares sont les Israéliens qui souhaitent marquer cette distinction ou qui considèrent, tout simplement, que cette ligne supplémentaire représente un problème. En listant les renseignements contenus sur les cartes d’identité des Tcherkesses d’Israël, on ne peut alors les distinguer d’un ensemble plus large « non-juif ». Un feuillet supplémentaire doit être présenté, il reprend le numéro de la carte d’identité, l’adresse actuelle du détenteur, ses anciennes adresses, son nom de famille initial (pour les femmes), la citoyenneté (qui continue donc à apparaître in fine), ainsi que le nom et le numéro des cartes d’identité du conjoint et des enfants.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 210

11 Dans la loi sur l’acquisition de la nationalité, les termes nationalité et citoyenneté sont d’ailleurs utilisés indifféremment. Ainsi, on peut lire que la loi sur la nationalité concerne les individus nés en Israël ou qui y résident, et que la citoyenneté peut être acquise par naissance, par effet de la loi du retour, par résidence ou par naturalisation. L’acquisition de la nationalité par naissance concerne les individus nés en Israël d’une mère ou d’un père qui sont de citoyenneté israélienne, et qui n’ont jamais été enregistrés sous une autre nationalité. Depuis la promulgation de la loi du retour (1950), chaque Juif – est considérée comme juive toute personne née d’une mère juive ou qui s’est convertie au judaïsme et qui ne fait état d’aucune autre appartenance religieuse –, quel que soit le lieu où il est né et où il réside, a la possibilité de faire son aliyah en Israël et de devenir citoyen israélien. Sa citoyenneté devient effective le jour de son arrivée en Israël où lui est délivré un certificat d’oleh (« celui qui est monté », qui a fait son aliyah). Depuis 1970, cette loi a été élargie aux enfants et petits-enfants d’un-e juif-ve, au compagnon d’un enfant de juif-ve, au nom du regroupement familial y compris dans les cas de mariages mixtes. C’est sous ce statut qu’a immigré la grande majorité des olim d’ex-URSS qui ne sont donc pas tous, selon la halakha (loi religieuse juive), reconnus comme des Juifs « casher ». L’acquisition de la nationalité par résidence fait l’objet d’une clause particulière dans le texte de loi, et concerne les citoyens de la Palestine mandataire. Sont devenus citoyens israéliens, celles et ceux qui ont pu prouver une présence ininterrompue sur le territoire entre la déclaration d’Indépendance d’Israël (1948) jusqu’à l’entérinement de la loi sur la nationalité (1952). Les Palestiniens qui ont été expulsés ou qui se sont réfugiés dans des pays voisins ne sont donc pas, selon la juridiction israélienne, considérés comme citoyens. Le droit au retour des réfugiés de 1948 est au cœur des revendications palestiniennes et n’a, vraisemblablement, aucune chance d’être reconnu par les négociateurs israéliens, un sociologue de l’université de Haïfa me décrivait l’opinion la plus répandue parmi la population juive israélienne : « le droit au retour des Palestiniens signifierait la fin d’Israël comme État juif : leur retour, c’est notre fin »9.

Minorités « préférées » et/ou citoyens de seconde classe?

12 Mais les Tcherkesses ne sont pas Palestiniens, leur présence a été maintenue par décision politique en 194810. Ils ne sont pas intégrés à l’ensemble juif israélien en raison de leur appartenance à l’islam, à l’ensemble palestinien israélien en raison de leur loyauté à Israël, et à l’ensemble druze car ils sont Tcherkesses. Aussi, la communauté ne peut formellement se reconnaître dans autre chose que des formes de solidarité et d’identification, une habitante de Reyhaniya me disait : « Pour les Juifs, nous ne sommes que des musulmans et pour les Arabes, nous sommes des Israéliens11 ».

13 Plutôt que d’énoncer leur identification en n’étant ni Juif ni Palestinien ni Druze, la communauté tcherkesse d’Israël emprunte des comportements et met en place des solidarités différenciées à la fois avec les Juifs, les Palestiniens et les Druzes. 14 Ils partagent la peur et les discriminations avec les uns, une volonté absolue de distinction et les accusations de traîtrise avec d’autres, mais ils aspirent surtout à vivre – et sont prêts à négocier leur place – avec d’autres encore. Ces modalités d’identification, qui ont amené la communauté à faire des choix parfois douloureux et qui n’ont pas fini d’avoir des répercussions sur son quotidien, génèrent des

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 211

frustrations. Car les Tcherkesses d’Israël, s’ils bénéficient d’un traitement spécifique bien différent de celui accordé aux Palestiniens, n’accèdent pas encore à une citoyenneté pleine et font état de nombreuses discriminations. Quand j’interrogeais une habitante de Reyhaniya dont l’époux occupe un poste militaire prestigieux, et qui se définit comme absolument israélienne, elle me répondait: Nous avons la chance de souvent voyager, et comme tout le monde, quand nous partons à l’étranger nous prenons notre avion à Tel-Aviv. Lorsque nous sommes contrôlés par la sécurité, il y a des problèmes. La dernière fois, une gamine de dix- huit ans nous demande, souriante, nos cartes d’identité. Nous lui tendons et lorsqu’elle les regarde et qu’elle lit notre nom, son visage change. Notre nom fait très arabe pour une Israélienne de dix-huit ans. Elle nous demande de patienter et appelle son supérieur, X [son mari, ndlr] lui demande alors quel est le problème (...) nous savons très bien quel est le problème... elle lui répond d’un ton très sec que nous devons patienter un point c’est tout. Son supérieur est arrivé, il lui a demandé quel était le problème, et elle a tendu nos cartes en lui indiquant notre nom. Il a commencé à nous demander où nous allions, dans quel but, pour combien de temps. Moi, j’étais furieuse mais je ne disais rien, et là, X [le mari, ndlr] a sorti sa carte d’officier de district... l’agent de sécurité était très gêné. X aurait pu être son supérieur, il nous a présenté ses excuses. X et moi, ou les enfants, on fait très israéliens, moi je suis blonde et on me prend toujours pour une Ashkénaze, on parle hébreu parfaitement et comme tous les Israéliens... c’est rare qu’on nous contrôle contrairement aux gens qui font arabes, par contre quand on nous contrôle et qu’on voit nos noms, on a les mêmes problèmes que les autres. 15 L’israélité des Tcherkesses fait parfaitement consensus au sein de la communauté, ils se revendiquent comme pleinement citoyens israéliens et prennent à témoin l’histoire pour défendre leur condition « à part ». Ils notent, en revanche, qu’ils continuent à ne pas être des citoyens « comme les autres ». Au-delà de témoignages individuels allant dans ce sens, cette distinction est également collective. Fin novembre 2001, les quotidiens israéliens reviennent sur deux semaines de grève, relativement bien répercutées dans la presse, des Conseils municipaux druzes et tcherkesses. Leurs représentants demandent la reconnaissance d’un statut analogue à celui des Conseils municipaux juifs. Ariel Sharon, qui est alors Premier ministre, intervient personnellement et promet une subvention de cinquante millions de shekels. Pour les conseillers municipaux, il s’agit d’un premier pas dans les négociations pour leur reconnaissance et la promesse du Premier ministre suivie d’une rencontre avec le Président de l’État, Moshe Katsav, qui réaffirme les propos de son ministre, met fin au conflit le 8 novembre.

16 Dès 1987, une décision du cabinet ministériel appelait à la parité entre les villages druzes et tcherkesses. Même s’il existe une volonté politique de distinction entre minorités, cette dernière se traduit rarement dans les actes. À titre d’exemple, en 2008, le budget du village druze d’Hurbeish (6 000 habitants) était d’environ vingt-sept millions de shekels tandis que le village voisin de Shlomi (même échelle d’habitants) bénéficiait d’un budget de quarante-quatre millions. En février 2002, le secteur éducatif tcherkesse et druze entre à son tour en grève pour demander une augmentation des budgets et la répercussion des promesses de novembre 2001 pourtant signées avec le ministre des Finances, Silvan Shalom, et celui de l’Intérieur, Eli Yishaï. Un tiers seulement des fonds avait alors été versé. Un nouveau plan d’austérité va toucher les villages tcherkesses et druzes l’année suivante, le quotidien Haaretz rapporte les propos des grévistes : « Nous en avons assez de la politique de discrimination (...) nous voulons accéder à l’égalité pour les citoyens druzes et tcherkesses »12. S’ils n’hésitent pas à faire

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 212

publiquement état des discriminations qu’ils subissent, l’égalité demandée est loin d’être celle pour tous les citoyens, elles concernent une égalité de droits entre Juifs, Tcherkesses et Druzes. Au même moment, les Conseils municipaux palestiniens d’Israël sont également en grève et il arrive que l’ensemble du secteur non-juif se regroupe pour tenter de faire avancer les négociations, même si ces dernières demeurent spécifiques. Les chefs de conseil, appuyés par les députés palestiniens de la Knesset, essaient d’obtenir – en vain – une audience au Parlement. Le ministre de l’Intérieur, Abraham Poraz, fait d’ailleurs le distinguo entre les revendications en recevant séparément les conseillers tcherkesses et druzes. C’est le député druze Majalli Whbee qui sert d’émissaire pour ce secteur en particulier, lorsqu’il rencontre les grévistes, il leur promet une nouvelle visite personnelle d’Ariel Sharon s’ils lèvent la grève. L’année suivante, toujours pour les mêmes revendications, le secteur se met une nouvelle fois en grève et comme à chaque fois, l’intervention politique et les promesses les convainquent de mettre fin au mouvement. Cela fait dix ans que le secteur enchaîne les mouvements de grève, pour se rappeler au souvenir d’un gouvernement qui consent à leur accorder des privilèges qui demeurent largement théoriques. 17 L’été suivant, la seconde guerre contre le Liban embrase le nord d’Israël, un article d’Aryeh Dayan pour Haaretz révèle que les compensations obtenues par les villages de la zone sont parfaitement inégales13. Un rapport gouvernemental prévoit que des compensations, partielles ou totales en fonction des pertes économiques des villages, seront versées pour les indemniser. Pour obtenir une compensation complète, les villages doivent être situés à moins de dix kilomètres de la frontière libanaise. Maître Dahwar, avocat palestinien originaire du village de Fassuta, adresse plusieurs pétitions à la Cour Suprême. Il affirme que les compensations se font sur une base ethnique et déclare : « Les villages arabes en bordure de la frontière avec le Liban recevront moins de compensations simplement parce qu’ils sont arabes ». Pour étayer son argumentation, il joint la liste des villages indemnisés, aucun village palestinien ne bénéficie d’une compensation totale, alors que ces derniers ont été touchés de la même façon par les katioushas du Hezbollah. On y apprend que le kibboutz Yehiam et le moshav Me’ona apparaissent sur la liste des indemnisations complètes alors que ce n’est pas le cas du village palestinien Ma’ilia qui se trouve pourtant plus près de la frontière. C’est également le cas de Jish qui est exclu de la liste alors que Dalton et Safufa y sont inclus. 18 Sur cette liste, enfin, on apprend que seuls trois villages non-juifs vont être intégralement indemnisés : Peqi’in et Hurfeish – deux villages druzes – et Reyhaniya. Publiquement, une distinction politique va donc être faite en faveur des deux communautés, et elle soulève l’incompréhension et la colère des villages palestiniens voisins. Une décision du cabinet ministériel ouvre un budget exceptionnel de quatre cent quarante sept millions de shekels pour les indemnisations du nord du pays. Les communautés druze et tcherkesse touchent du doigt l’espoir d’être enfin, et dans les faits, considérés comme de véritables Israéliens. 19 Plus d’un an après, Rakad Khir a-Din, le maire d’Hurfeish, déclare que la majorité des fonds n’a jamais été transférée14. La situation économique des villages empire, en 2008 le Conseil municipal de Kfar Kama est dans l’impossibilité de verser les salaires de ses fonctionnaires pendant huit mois. Le maire de Reyhaniya explique même qu’un cinquième des habitants du village ne peut pas payer ses impôts locaux15. Le 19 juin 2009, les autorités druzes et tcherkesses organisent une nouvelle manifestation à Jérusalem, devant la Knesset. Comme pour chacune de ces manifestations, les maires et

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 213

chefs de communautés, qui ont pour beaucoup d’entre eux fait carrière dans l’armée avant d’entamer une carrière politique, manifestent en uniforme16. Sur une pancarte, on pouvait alors lire : « Dans la guerre, un Juif et un Druze sont égaux. Dans les budgets, dix enfants druzes correspondent à un enfant juif ». 20 Les Tcherkesses d’Israël ne sont ni Juifs ni Arabes-Palestiniens et ne peuvent donc théoriquement se reconnaître dans aucun de ces deux grands groupes (quand bien même ils partagent avec chacun d’entre eux, des énonciations et référents qu’ils soient historiques, géographiques, culturels, politiques ou religieux), mais ils s’interrogent sur la place qui pourrait leur être accordée dans les nouvelles reconfigurations territoriales et géopolitiques qui se dessinent. À l’heure où se dessine une probable partition du territoire en deux États séparés pour les deux peuples, les Tcherkesses posent à l’État d’Israël l’inhabituelle équation d’une citoyenneté israélienne, non seulement non-juive, mais musulmane. Car à la différence d’une majorité de citoyens Palestiniens d’Israël qui revendique une citoyenneté politique palestinienne, les Tcherkesses se définissent comme pleinement Israéliens et ne remettent pas en cause le caractère ethnique juif de l’État. En échange de la reconnaissance de cette souveraineté (et de ses symboles) et acceptant leur condition de minorité, ils attendent de l’État d’Israël qu’il les considère comme de véritables citoyens, jouissant des mêmes droits et devoirs que sa majorité juive.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Abélès, Marc et Henri-Pierre Jeudy, (dir.) 1997 Anthropologie du politique, Paris, Armand Colin.

Abzakh, Nadine 2008 Hityashvut HaCherkessim Bamizra’h Hati’hon, (en hébreu: « L’arrivée et l’installation des tcherkesses au Proche-Orient »), brochure à destination des élèves (7ème et 8ème grade) de l’école de Reyhaniya.

Amselle, Jean-Loup 2001 Branchements. Anthropologie de l’universalité des cultures, Paris, Flammarion, Coll. Champs.

Anderson, Benedict 2000 L’imaginaire national. Réflexions sur l’origine et l’essor du nationalisme, Paris, La Découverte.

Atchmoz, Shomaff et Hatukhay, Ryad 1991 Cherkeskher – HaCherkessim, en hébreu, (« Les Tcherkesses »), El Hakim, Kfar-Kama, Israël.

Balandier, Georges 1967 Anthropologie politique, Paris, Presses Universitaires de France.

Barth, Fredrick (dir.) 1969 Ethnic groups and Boundaries: The Social Organization of Culture Differences, Bergen/ London, George Allen & Unwin and Forgalet.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 214

Bedri, Habiçoglu 1993 Kfkasya’dan Anadolu’ya göçler ve iskanlari, en turc, (« Migrations du Caucase et installation en Anatolie »), Istanbul, Turquie, Nart Yyincilik.

Ben-Amos, Avner 2010 Israël. La fabrique de l’identité nationale, Paris, CNRS Éditions.

Bénichou, Delphine (Textes choisis et édités par.) 2008 Le Sionisme dans les textes, Paris, CNRS Éditions.

Bourdieu, Pierre 1979 La distinction, Paris, Les Éditions de Minuit, coll. « Le sens commun ».

Bram, Chen 1994 (mars) HaKhinukh Bekerev HaCherkessim beIsrael, en hébreu, (« L’éducation chez les Tcherkesses d’Israël »), rapport présenté au Ministère de l’Éducation, Jérusalem, Israël. 2003 « Muslim revivalism and the emergence of civic-society, a case of study of an Israeli- Circassian community », Central Asian Survey 22 (1): 5-21.

Brubaker, Rogers 1995 « National Minorities, Nationalizing States and External National Homelands in the New Europe », Daedalus 124 (2): 107-132. 2001 « Au delà de l’identité », Actes de la Recherche en Science Sociale 139: 66-85. 2002 « Ethnicity without groups », Archives européennes de sociologie 43 (2): 163-189.

Buber, Martin 1985 [trad.française], Une terre et deux peuples, Paris, Lieu Commun.

Charbit, Denis (dir.) 1998 Sionismes. Textes fondamentaux, Paris, Albin Michel.

Cohen, Hillel 2006 Aravim tovim. Ha-Modiin Ha-Yisreeli veha-Arvim Be-Yisrael Sokhnim U-Mafilim, Meshaftim U- Mordim, Matarot ve-Shitot, (en hébreu: « Les bons Arabes. Les services de sécurité israéliens et les arabes israéliens de 1948 à 1967»), Jérusalem : Hotsaat Ivrit, Keter.

Descola, Philippe 2005 Par-delà nature et culture, Paris, Gallimard. 2010 (dir.), La fabrique des images. Visions du monde et formes de la représentation, Paris, Somogy éditions d’art.

Dieckhoff, Alain 1998 « Entre citoyenneté et nationalité », Confluences Méditerranée 26: 13-20. 1999 « Démocratie et ethnicité », Sociologie et sociétés 31 (2) : 163-173. 2005 « Quelle citoyenneté dans une démocratie ethnique ? » Confluences Méditerranée 54: 69-80. 2008 (dir.) L’État d’Israël, Paris, Fayard, collection Les grandes études internationales.

Firro, Kais 1999 The Druzes in the Jewish State: A Brief History, Leiden, Brill. 2001 « Reshaping Druze Particularism in Israel », Journal of Palestine Studies 30 (3): 40-53.

Foucault, Michel 1966 Les mots et les choses, Paris, Gallimard.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 215

Gelber, Yoav 1991 « Reshita shel haBrit haYehudit haDruzit (1930-1948) », (en hébreu, « Le début de l’alliance entre juifs et druzes (1930-1948) », Catedra, 60: 141-181.

Gerkhad, Adnan 1993 HeCherkessim-Bney Hadega (En hébreu : « Les Tcherkesses- Fils d’Adiga»), Shfaram, Sfaram Publications.

Greilsammer, Ilan 1998 La Nouvelle Histoire d’Israël, Paris, Gallimard, coll. « NRF essais ». 2007 « Réflexions sur l’identité israélienne aujourd’hui », Cités 29: 39-48.

Grinberg, Lev 2000 « Demokratiya medumyenet beIsrael », (en hébreu : « La démocratie imaginée en Israël »), Sotsyologyah Yisre’elit 3 (1) : 209-240.

Handelman, Don 1994 « Contradictions between Citizenship and Nationality: their consequences for Ethnicity and Inequality in Israel », International Journal of Politics, Culture and Society 7 (3): 441-459.

Herzl, Théodor 2008 L’État des Juif, Paris, La Découverte.

Hobsbawm, Eric et Terence Ranger 1983 The invention of tradition, Cambridge, UK; NY: Cambridge University Press.

Isin, Engin et Patricia Wood 1999 Citizenship and Identity, Londres: Sage, GB.

Jaimoukha, Amjad M. 2001 The Circassians: a handbook, Londres, UK, Curzon. `

Kemp, Adriana 1999 « The Frontier Idiom on Borders and Territorial Politics in Post-1967 Israel », Geographical Reseach Forum, 19: 102-117.

Kimmerling, Baruch 1983 Zionism and territory: the socio-territorial dimensions of the Zionist politics, Berkeley, Universiy of California Press, USA. 1985 « Between the primordial and civic definition of the collective identity: Eretz Israel or the state of Israel? » in, Cohen E. et. al. (dirs.), Comparative social dynamics, Boulder, Westview.

Krausz, Ernest 1986 « Edah and ‘Ethnic Group’ in Israel », Jewish Journal of Sociology, 28: 5-18.

Kreindler Isabelle, Bensoussan Marsha, Avinor Eleanor, Bram Chen 1995 « Circassian Israelis: Multilinguism as a way of life », Langage, Culture and Curriculum 8 (2): 149- 162.

Lévi Strauss, Claude 1977 L’identité : séminaire interdisciplinaire, Paris, Presses Universitaires de France.

Lustick, Ian 1980a Arabs in the Jewish State: Israel’s Control of a National Minority, Austin, University of Texas Press, USA. 1980b « Zionism and the State of Israel: Regime Objectives and the Arab Minority in the First Years of Statehood », Middle Eastern Studies 16 (1): 137- 146.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 216

Merza, Eléonore 2008 « À la recherche d’un temps perdu. La (re)construction identitaire de la diaspora tcherkesse d’Israël », Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem 19, http://bcrfj.revues.org/ documents5908.html. 2010 « Being both non-Jewish Israelis and non-Arab Muslims : isn’t it too much ? The Circassians’ identity across borders and categorizations », Bulletin du centre de recherche français de Jérusalem 21, http://bcrfj.revues.org/index6412.html. 2012 « Ni Juifs ni Arabes en Israël. Dialectiques d’identification et négociations identitaires d’une minorité dans un espace en guerre. Le cas des Tcherkesses (Adyghéens) de Kfar Kama et de Reyhaniya », thèse de doctorat en anthropologie, EHESS, Paris (862 pages).

Neveu, Catherine 1997 « Anthropologie de la citoyenneté » in Abélès, Marc & Jeudy, Henry-Pierre, Anthropologie du politique : 67-90. 2004 « Les enjeux d’une approche anthropologique de la citoyenneté », Revue Européenne des Migrations Internationales 20 (3): 89-101.

Noiriel, Gérard 2007 À quoi sert l’« identité nationale », Paris, Agone.

Oppenheimer, Jonathan 1985 « The Druze in Israel as Arabs and Non-Arabs: Manipulation of Categories of Identity in a Non-Civil State », in Weingrod, Alex (Ed.), Studies in Israeli Ethnicity; After the Ingathering, New York / Londres, Gordon and Breach Science Publishers.

Peled, Yoav et Gershon Shafir 1996 « The Roots of Peacemaking: The Dynamics of Citizenship in Israel, 1948-93 », International Journal of Middle East Studies 28: 391-413. 1998 « Citizenship and Stratification in an Ethnic Democracy », Ethnic and Racial Studies, 21: 408-427. 2002 Being Israeli: the dynamics of multiple citizenship, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

Rancière, Jacques 2000 « Citoyenneté, culture et politique », in Mickhaël Elbaz et Denise Helly, Mondialisation, citoyenneté et multiculturalisme, Paris, L’Harmattan: 56-68.

Rivoal, Isabelle 2000 Les maîtres du secret. Ordre mondain et ordre religieux dans la communauté druze en Israël, Paris, Éditions de l’EHESS.

Rubin-Peled, Alisa 2002 « The Other Side of 1948: the Forgotten Benevolence of Bechor Shalom Shitrit and the Ministry of Minority Affairs », Israel Affairs 8 (3): 84-103.

Schnapper, Dominique 1994 La communauté des citoyens ; Sur l’idée modernre de nation, Paris, Gallimard, Collection « nrf essais ».

Smooha, Sammy 1997 « Ethnic Democracy: Israel as an Archetype », Israel Studies 2 (2): 198-421.

Stendel, Ori 1973 HaCherkessim beIsrael (« Les Tcherkesses en Israël »), Tel Aviv, Am Hassefer, Israël.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 217

Weiss, Meira 1997 « Bereavement, Commemoration, and Collective Identity in Contemporary Israeli Society », Anthropological Quartely 70 (2): 91-101.

Yanai, Nathan 1987 « Musag haMedina etzel Ben-Gurion », (en hébreu: « Le concept d’État chez Ben- Gourion »), Cathedra 45: 169-189.

Yanow, Dvora 1999 « From what Edah are you? Israeli and American meanings of ‘race-ethnicity’ in social policy practices », Israel Affairs 5 (2): 183-199.

Zaritzky, Susannah 2004 (fev) « The Moslem population in Israel », Jérusalem, Central Bureau of Statistics, Government of Israel.

NOTES

2. Theodor Herzl, L'Etat des Juifs, Paris, La Découverte, 2008, p. 35. 3. Alan Dowty, 2000, « Much Ado About Little; Ahad Ha’am’s ’Truth from the Land of Israel,’ Zionism and the Arabs, » Israel Studies 5(2): 154-181. 4. Ian Lustick, 1980, p. 143. 5. Archives du ministère israélien des Affaires Étrangères. 6. Henia Markovitch, « The Fair Representation of Arabs including Druzes and Circassians in the Civil Service 2003 », rapport présenté à la Knesset, Commission du Service Civil, Jérusalem, 13 pages. 7. Chen Bram, 2003, p. 8. 8. Site du ministère israélien des Affaires Étrangères, rubrique « La vérité sur Israël ». Accessible sur le lien suivant: http://www.mfa.gov.il/MFA/Facts+About+Israel/People/SOCIETY 9. Entretien personnel avec W. I., Haïfa, le 9 mai 2010. 10. Eléonore Merza, 2012, thèse de doctorat : « Ni Juifs ni Arabes en Israël. Dialectiques d’identification et négociations identitaires d’une minorité dans un espace en guerre. Le cas des Tcherkesses (Adyghéens) de Kfar Kama et de Reyhaniya ». 11. Entretien S.G., Reyhaniya, le 23 juin 2009. 12. Haaretz, édition du 29 mai 2003. 13. Haaretz, édition du 21 août 2006. 14. Haaretz, édition du 9 octobre 2007. 15. Entretien S.H., Reyhaniya, le 22 juin 2009. 16. L’édition du Haaretz du 2 septembre 2002 rapportait les propos du maire de l’époque d’Hurfeish, et accessoirement Colonel réserviste, Mufeid Amar : « Avec cet uniforme, je me suis senti égal (…) mais à mon grand regret, maintenant dans la vie civile, nous sommes discriminés (…) ».

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 218

AUTEUR

ELEONORE MERZA

Eléonore Merza est anthropologue du politique et docteure de l’EHESS. Elle est chercheure associée au Laboratoire d’Anthropologie des Organisations et des Institutions Sociales de l’Institut Interdisciplinaire d’Anthropologie du Contemporain (IIAC-LAIOS: CNRS-EHESS) et effectue actuellement un post-doctorat au Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem. Après avoir consacré sa thèse de doctorat aux dialectiques d’identification et aux négociations identitaires de la minorité tcherkesse d’Israël, elle continue à explorer les modalités de citoyenneté non-juive, la condition minoritaire et le « vivre ensemble » dans la société israélienne contemporaine. Elle a enseigné quatre années à l’École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales à Paris et a été chargée de cours sur le conflit israélo-palestinien.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 219

Politics and Conflict in a Contested City Urban Planning in Jerusalem under Israeli Rule

Jonathan Rokem

Introduction

1 Planning policy is a major tool determining development outcomes and shaping the built environment. It is commonly used to build better places and promote sustainable communities and development. However, in some extreme cases, the struggle over land has taken precedence. This is especially evident in the Middle East and particularly in the Israeli Palestinian conflict. The continued international interest and media coverage from the region places the local geopolitical issues in the world’s spotlight; however, it rarely looks at the underlying conditions for the emergence of these turbulent circumstances. This paper affirms that planning policy holds a fundamental impact on the positive social and spatial development of urban areas; however, in some extreme cases, the politics of conflict produce different conditions as the case of Jerusalem will reveal.

2 Several factors distinguish Jerusalem from other cities. Firstly, it is an important religious center for three of the world’s monotheistic religions; and secondly, it is claimed as national capital by two contenders, placing it in the vortex of the Israeli- Palestinian conflict. The multidimensional nature of its divisions places Jerusalem in a uniquely difficult and symbolic situation when attempting to resolve its internal and external tensions. Jerusalem is the largest and poorest city in Israel today. At the end of 2010, the population of Jerusalem numbered 789,000. The “Jewish and Other” population totaled 504,000, and the Arab population totaled 285,000 (Choshen et al. 2012). As widely documented and analyzed (see for example: Dumper 1997; Bollens 2000; Hasson 2007), a significant spatial turning point of Israel’s geopolitical conditions started after June 1967, when Israel occupied East Jerusalem with other territories. Following this, despite international objections, the government of Israel issued the Municipalities Ordinance (Amendment No. 6) Law, 5727–1967 applying Israeli law to

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 220

East Jerusalem (Lapidoth 2006). As a result, Israel annexed Palestinian land and declared the city of Jerusalem as its united capital city. 3 The total area of land annexed by Israel to Jerusalem in 1967 is 71 km2 (approx.18,000 acres), of which 6.5 km2 belonged to the East Jerusalem municipality (Jerusalem under Jordanian Rule) including the Old City, before 1967. The rest of the area was taken from the jurisdictions of 28 Palestinian villages surrounding the city. As a result of the 1967 occupation and annexation, the new municipal boundaries tripled in size from 38 km2 to 109 km2. The area of the enlarged Jerusalem municipality was increased again in May 1993 and reached 126 km2 (approx. 32,000 acres) (for more details see: Rokem 2010).

Jerusalem – in the Context of ’Ethno-Nationally Contested Cities’

4 All cities around the world experience and contain changing levels of fragmentation formed by local and global circumstances producing socio-economic, cultural, and ethnic divisions. Some of the influential seminal works on cities have explored such phenomena. One of the earliest examples was Friedrich Engels’ study of the working classes in Manchester (See Engels 1844). Contemporary examples of similar analyses abound, including: Mike Davies’ account of ‘Fortress Urbanism” in Los Angeles (1990); Iris Marion Young’s notion of “living together in difference,” and Ali Madanipour’s analysis of social exclusion in European cities (1998) – and numerous others. However, the former scholars’ main foci lay in cities devoid of the extreme conditions of ethno- nationalistic and religious divisions. These attributes only exist in a selected minority of places; Hasson and Kouba (1996: 114) categorize this group of cities as polarized and politically divided. They claim that the conflicts in these cities are multidimensional and that within the basic religious-ethnic division, there are layers of national division, geographic segregation, and economic stratification. While Bollens (1998; 2000) recognizes the existence of complex and varying dynamics of conflict in ethnically polarized cities, he does maintain that issues of ethnic identity and nationalistic claims of sovereignty over territory are common issues to these places. Kotek (1999: 228) applies the term “frontier city” to this group of places, differentiating it from “multiethnic” or “multicultural” cities. By “frontier” Kotek means that the divisions are not only economic or ethnic but rather that they are a combination of their location on fault-lines between ethnic, religious, and ideological wholes. Such conurbations have been a major challenge for urban policy and planning (Sharkansky 1996; Bollens 1998, 2000; Hasson 2002, 2005; Kmihi 2005; et al.).

5 Moreover, the roles they play in wider national conflicts tend to extend the occurrences within them much further than their local territorial geography. Some of the widely known examples of such cities include Belfast, Nicosia, Berlin, Sarajevo, Beirut, and Brussels; however, there is a common agreement in the literature that Jerusalem typifies one of the most complex urban territories and that a resolution there does not seem within reach (Sharkansky 1996; Sennett 1999; Bollens 1998, 2000; Safier 2001; Sorkin 2002; Hasson 2003, 2005). Jerusalem contains divisions on several grounds: historical (Israel and Palestine), ethnic and religious (Jews and Arabs), ethno- national (Palestinians and Israelis), and linguistic (Hebrew and Arabic). The multidimensionality of the divisions puts Jerusalem in a uniquely difficult situation when trying to resolve its internal and external tensions. Important recent work on

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 221

cities within ethno-national conflicts have tended to privilege issues of national control and territory and have not engaged seriously enough with the urban dynamics concealed beneath the more visible national surface (Benvenisti 1996; Dumper 1997; Bollens 2000; Yiftachel & Yacobi 2004).

Urban Planning in Jerusalem – Historical Overview

6 To comprehend the complexity of Jerusalem’s spatial and social fabric, it is important to briefly outline its 20th century history. In 1917, the rule of Jerusalem was taken over from the late Ottoman Empire by the British Mandate. The shift in the governing power radically altered the position of the city from a remote provincial town at the edge of the vast Ottoman Empire to the capital of the British Mandate in Palestine. The British Mandate planning policy strengthened the position of the Old City and developed the New City in relation to its historical core. The British established new plans and erected monumental buildings in Jerusalem. Some of the most gifted urban planners of the time prepared master plans for the city’s development, some of the more dominant ones being Ashbee & Geddes Scheme (1922) the Holliday Scheme (1934) and the Kendall Scheme (1944). After the end of the 30-year British Mandate and the creation of the state of Israel as a result of the1948 War1, Jerusalem was physically divided into two separate parts: the East (Jordanian side) and the West (Israeli side). For the next 19 years, the two sides of the city developed individually as entirely separate entities with a militarized border zone constructed along the cease-fire line through the city’s historical heart by the Old City walls.

7 Two differing planning objectives were dominant in the Israeli planning of Jerusalem before 1967. One treated Jerusalem as a weak frontier city on a hostile border with the Jordanian Hashemite Kingdom. This resulted in shifting planning westwards and neglecting the old divided historical center. The other objective took the assumption that Jerusalem and the west side of the city center should be strengthened to symbolize the Israeli capital. Generally the divided city was a stable realty: “the separation line became a fixed fact in the minds of the people” (Schwied 1986: 109). Jerusalem officially became a divided city. On each side of the borderline, both Jordanians and Israelis began to develop their part of Jerusalem. The Jordanians concentrated mainly on expanding their suburbs beyond the Old City walls, mostly to the North (Sharon 1973: 132). The first master plan for the Israeli part of Jerusalem, Scheme 1950, planned for the expansion and development of the city. The succeeding 1959 Outline Scheme (master plan) adopted most of the Scheme 1950 regulations and is the last statutory authorized master plan for Jerusalem until today (further details about this in the contemporary overview below). Planning during the next 19 years concentrated on the development of new neighborhoods on the western outskirts of the city with the growth there being infinitely greater than on the Jordanian side. Israeli areas close to the borderline were mostly slums and were not regarded as safe places to live due to frequent sniper fire and hostility of the Jordanians. The 1950 and 1959 master plans reflect the reality embedded in the planners’ belief foreseeing the city will remain divided with no indications of any future hope for changes in the status quo. 8 The 1968 master plan, prepared in 1966-67 by Hashimshoni, Schwied, and Hashimshoni prior to the outcome of the 1967 War, planned a “reunified” Jerusalem at a time when it was against all expectations and common planning objectives, challenging the common

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 222

state of mind that held the city’s division as permanent (Hashimshoni et al. 1972). By the time the 1968 master plan was ready for submission, the 1967 War had ended and the urban space was once again under one planning authority – thus the geographical reality had generated conditions increasing the potentiality of the plan: “Until 1967, Jerusalem was a sleepy town. Its issues were considered as mainly local municipal issues – important issues, but local. After 1967, the issues were different, the issues became national politics” (Schwied 1986: 112). 9 As a consequence of the 1967 War2 between Israel and its Arab neighbors, a single political entity once more controlled the city of Jerusalem: Israel. The Israeli government through its Ministry of Interior and the Jerusalem Municipality made an almost immediate effort to shape the urban fabric according to its needs and political aspirations. Israel, with the Ministry of Interior and the Jerusalem Municipality as its main legislative arms, has been responsible for urban planning and policy for the last 45 years, keeping a clear separation between Israeli and Palestinian living areas clearly visible in the location of disconnected living areas in the map below, dating from 2008. (Fig. 1).

Fig. 1.

Map of the current Jerusalem Municipality boundary (Palestinian neighborhoods marked in brown and Jewish neighborhoods in blue). Source: Arab Studies Society – Mapping & GIS Department 2008.

10 The Israeli planning policy after the 1967 War was to effect an overall “reunification” of the city, putting emphasis on the newly united historical center. “Early urban planning proposals considered the reorientation and eventual linkage of the two major business centers of West and East Jerusalem” (Romann and Weingrod 1991: 41). The general aim of the aforementioned 1968 Master plan was “[to] establish an urban structure for a

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 223

unified city, freely accessible both locally and internationally, functionally suitable as the Capital of the state of Israel” (Sharon 1973: 135). The 1968 Plan demonstrated the same spatial awareness of Jerusalem’s special qualities, which were common in the mandatory plans of the past, and responded with restricting construction and leaving open spaces around the Old City. Special emphasis was put on the historical nucleus. A strict control of building heights around the Old City walls was maintained from previous plans.

11 The focal guidelines of the 1968 Master plan evolved around using planning policy and growth to integrate the city’s infrastructure and development. The Jerusalem Municipality, within days after the 1967 reunification, started the “integration of services and infrastructure” between the two sides of the city (Dumper 1993: 81). 12 Mayor Teddy Kollek, who would become the central figure in the development and management of Jerusalem for the next quarter of century, established an international panel of experts in the early 1970s to review the 1968 Master Plan and take part in the building of “reunified Jerusalem” (Wasserstein 2001: 217). The mayor held high hopes for the planning and development of central Jerusalem: We are deeply immersed in the city planning to improve the quality of life in Jerusalem. Our present planning focuses upon the Old City and its immediate surroundings. We are developing a green belt around the Old City at great expense. Jerusalem is, I believe, the only city in modern times to create, by purchase, a large central green area such as was preserved by the Boston Common, New York City Central Park, London’s Hyde Park, and the Bois de Boulogne of Paris more than a century ago (Kollek 1980: 12). 13 When referring back to the British Mandate plans for the city, David Guggenheim, one of the architects involved in the planning of the historical center after 1967, notes: “There was a clear interest in developing the central area around the Old City as a bridge between East and West Jerusalem, erasing the old division line” (David Guggenheim Interview, 11 June 2006). The planning of the city center evolved around the uniqueness of Jerusalem, the centrality of the holy city, and the desire to create a buffer zone that would be made an archaeological zone and open space surrounding the Old City (Turner 2003: 97). However, Israeli urban planning discourse in Jerusalem, as mentioned earlier, has been influenced heavily by the wider national political conflict. Since 1967, the main policy has been the drive to unite the city under Israeli sovereignty as indicated in the 1968 Master plan (discussed in detail below).

Urban Planning in Jerusalem – Contemporary Overview

14 Indeed, as the historical overview above has revealed, since 1967, urban planning policy has been a tool used to spatially enhance the dominance of the Israeli Municipality control over urban space, thus asserting its sovereignty. Yet, beyond the Israeli rhetoric declaring Jerusalem as a unified city, its planning policies have reflected the paradigm of a colonial city; both state and city governments have pursued the same general policy, which has persistently promoted the Judaization – that is, the expansion of Jewish political, territorial, demographic, and economic control – of Jerusalem (Yacobi, 2012). In more details, over the last 46 years, Israel has used its military might and economic power to relocate borders and form boundaries, grant and deny rights

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 224

and resources, shift populations, and reshape the Occupied Territories for the purpose of ensuring Jewish control. In the case of East Jerusalem, two complementary strategies have been implemented by Israel: the construction of a massive outer ring of Jewish neighborhoods which now host over half the Jewish population of Jerusalem, and the containment of all Palestinian development, implemented through housing demolitions, legally banning Palestinian construction and development, and the prevention of Palestinian immigration to the city.

15 Following the construction of the separation wall (also known as “the security barrier”), Israel is in the process of annexing 160 km2 of the Occupied Territories in addition to the 70 km2 annexed immediately after its occupation of East Jerusalem in 1967. This area includes the Ma’ale Adumim and Giv’at Ze’ev Settlements, the Gush Etzion Settlement Bloc, and the Beitar Illit Settlement. The wall enforces Israel’s de facto political borders in Jerusalem and transforms it into the largest city in Israel geographically. On the other hand, the geographic continuity and the functional integration of the Palestinian neighborhoods are damaged and these neighborhoods are completely isolated from their hinterland (Yiftachel and Yacobi, 2002). 16 Israel claims that the formal reason for building the wall is to prevent suicide bombers from entering the city from the West Bank. The building of the wall has caused severe disruption in the daily life of the Palestinian population living on the West Bank and depending on East Jerusalem for employment and commercial activities. In reality, the result has been a mass migration of Palestinians from the West Bank re-locating inside the municipality (walled) borders. The building of the wall has vigorously changed the demographical balance, increasing the Palestinian percentage in Jerusalem. Ironically, this contradicts keeping a Jewish majority in the city, the main priority of Israel’s planning policy in the past 46 years. Following the expansion of the city at the end of the 1967 War, the total population of Jerusalem stood at 266,000 inhabitants, 74% Jews and 26% Arabs and others (Chosen 2005: 11). The Palestinian sector has constantly expanded compared to the Israeli one. It is forecasted that in the year 2020, the city’s Jewish population will decrease to 62.2% while the Arab and others population will consist of 37.8% of the city’s inhabitants (Chosen 2005: 15). The demographical balance in Jerusalem has been in constant change. The increase in the Palestinian population stands in contradiction to the Israeli government’s and the Jerusalem local municipality’s policy to maintain a Jewish majority in the city – what has been termed “the battle over demography.” (Fenster, 2004: 96). 17 Another central issue in Jerusalem is the question of sovereignty (Benvenisti 1985 et al. 1; Baskin & Twite 1993: 16; Klein 2003: 54). This concept is one of the most complex and controversial notions in constitutional and international law. “Sovereignty generally refers to a situation of absolute political authority over a given territory” (Baskin & Twite 1993: 11). Indeed, as a result, most of the world’s nations and organizations, including the United Nations, are disinclined to recognize Jerusalem as the capital of Israel. This is because the city’s Eastern parts are seen as an occupied territory that is not a legitimate part of Israel but of the West Bank3. The East Jerusalem population was granted special status after the 1967 War and given Israeli residency. The purported aim was to integrate them into the city while claiming they were to receive equal legal rights. This differentiates them from other West Bank residents and technically gives them the right to vote in the municipal elections as well as the use of the city’s social services. East Jerusalemites commonly claim the municipality is illegitimate and have

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 225

since 1967 expressed their protest by refraining from voting in municipal elections (Romann and Weingrod 1991: 193; Hasson and Kouba 1996: 120). 18 Since 1967, the policy employed by the Jerusalem municipality has been affected by the Israeli national political discourse. The principal Israeli policy has been “reunifying” Jerusalem under Israeli sovereignty while the Palestinian Eastern population sees the integration of East Jerusalem as illegal “annexation.” In ethnically divided cities, urban planning policy can take a major role in enhancing spatial and social division (Bollens 2000). The unequal funding of urban planning and construction projects between the Eastern and the Western parts has resulted in a city split into two distinct growth poles, with the crossover parts and old border areas remaining mainly neglected division points between the two sides. 19 Up until today, planning and development in Jerusalem has been officially determined by the last statutory authorized master plan dating from 1959. The 1959 Scheme, prepared at the time when Jerusalem was a divided city, includes only the Western part of the pre-1967 Israeli Jerusalem. Therefore, it has little relevance in determining planning and development in the current conditions. This means that without an updated master plan, for almost 50 years, the Municipality, the Ministry of Interior, and other government departments have shared the development and planning without an overall legally binding document. The recent “Master plan 2000” (analyzed in further detail below), was published in 2004 and has to date not received statutory approval. The reason no master plan has been legally approved over the years was a lack of agreement among policy makers. Consequently, the actual development of Jerusalem has had little relation to the 1959 Scheme and has relied on various local detailed plans without any overall coordination of the city’s development. This has manifested itself in planning policy incongruity and ambiguity resulting in lack in overall plans to pursue the city’s growth. 20 As mentioned above, a new outline plan for Jerusalem, the “Jerusalem Master plan 2000”4 (Fig. 2), is the first comprehensive plan to include both East and West Jerusalem and, as such, it addresses Israeli governmental policy with regards to maintaining a demographic balance in an undivided city. The underlying principle of the Israeli planning policy in Jerusalem is to establish a large, unified city with a dominant Jewish majority. The plan proposes a population objective of 60% Jewish to 40% Palestinian, maintaining such a demographic balance in the future.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 226

Fig. 2.

Jerusalem Master plan 2000. Source: Jerusalem Municipality Planning Department.

21 The Jerusalem Master plan 2000 is an improvement of existing plans. However, the benefits the Palestinian residents will derive from the plan are nominal. Thus, while the plan provides new potential for residential development, it simultaneously introduces a number of building restrictions that, de facto, make it almost impossible for residents to actually make use of these new possibilities.

22 For example, the Jerusalem Master plan 2000 does not determine detailed land usages, and therefore cannot be used to deliver building permits. In order to develop new areas contained in the plan, there is a need for detailed local plan which regulates the type of land usage which is legally required to receive a building permit. However, for the majority of the Palestinian areas in East Jerusalem, there are no valid local outline plans, consequently, these areas will remain neglected. 23 The Jerusalem Master plan 2000 planning approval process to date has been politically contested by Israeli decision makers. In 2004, the first version of the Jerusalem Master plan 2000 was made available to the public for consultation. In this version, a total area of approximately 11.8 km2 was allocated for new development of Jerusalem neighborhoods. Of this, only approximately 2.3 km2 (less than 20% of the area) was allocated to Palestinian neighborhoods (as opposed to 9.5 km2 for Israeli neighborhoods). 24 In April 2007, the plan was approved by the local planning committee and handed over to the district planning committee for approval. From mid-2007 until May 2008, the district planning committee held intensive discussions and eventually approved the deposition of the plan for public objections. Following this phase, the planners were

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 227

expected to make the required changes and the plan was supposed to be deposited for final review. This has yet to happen. 25 Members of the Jerusalem city council were the cause of the delay. They submitted a detailed document to the Minister of Interior claiming that the approved plan discriminated against the Israeli population, in favor of the Palestinian population. The Minister of Interior holds overall responsibility for planning policy and stands at the head of the planning hierarchy. The Minister ordered the head of the District Planning Office to delay the approval. Hence, the reason the Jerusalem Master plan 2000 has not been legally approved is lack of agreement amongst Israeli policy makers. 26 It is interesting to note that the largest mobilization by Israeli citizens against a single development project in Jerusalem (with a total of 16,000 planning objections presented to the planning commission) was organized against the so-called “Safdie Plan” (Outline Plan 37/1, foreseeing the construction of about 20,000 housing units over an area of 26.6 km2 of open space to the west of Jerusalem), mostly by environmentalist organizations; since 2006, the protest has been so far successful in sinking the plan. The housing crisis in West Jerusalem prompts Israelis to use land in the eastern part of the city for themselves; in fact, the government approved outline plans for the disputed “E1” area – a relatively vacant part of the Eastern outskirts of the city on the West Bank. The area is crucial in connecting the north and south parts of the West Bank and crucial in any future creation of a viable Palestinian state.

Conclusion

27 Israeli planning policy in Jerusalem constructs the social world in an explicit approach, shaping social practices. These practices enable particular “privileged speakers” (Israeli decision makers) to manage and dominate planning policy and development.

28 There has been a long-standing position in the literature that Jerusalem has a slim prospect of becoming a truly open and united city. This paper acknowledges the view that under the current political circumstances, there is little hope to see a complete solution to the Jerusalem problem. Even so, the assertion made by Scott Bollens (2000) that urban policymaking should not await a larger peace process but can be a powerful tool in local conflict management and a facilitator of more profound political solutions is important and relevant to the case of Jerusalem. In this sense, urban planning and policy should be viewed as distinct and essential instruments in reaching better cooperation in the absence of national overarching policy solutions. However, in the last 46 years planning policy in Jerusalem has been dominated by the local municipality, backed by the central Israeli government, it has been employed as a tool to implement and maintain a Jewish majority in the city. However, on the ground, this overarching goal has predominantly failed. 29 The development of the Jewish areas in Jerusalem continues by expanding the Israeli housing, commerce, and employment sectors, based on approved local outline plans in both the Eastern and the Western parts of the city. At the same time, there are no approved local outline plans designated in the Palestinian neighborhoods; the economy of East Jerusalem will continue to depend on that of West Jerusalem and will remain dilapidated.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 228

30 There is an urgent need to move towards a use of urban planning to foster genuine resolutions in Jerusalem. This requires a major shift from the dominant Israeli one- sided planning policy to a localized shared dimension. In the current turbulent conditions in the Middle East, such a shift seems evermore remote. However, there is a need to move from one-sided planning objectives to actual planning implementation that encourages transformation benefiting all the city’s residents prior to any long awaited overall resolution.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Baskin, G. and Twite, R. 1993 “The future of Jerusalem: proceedings of the first Israeli-Palestinian international academic seminar on the future of Jerusalem”, Israel/Palestine Center for Research and Information. www.ipcri.org.

Benvensiti, M. 1996 Jerusalem: A Divided City? In Kotek, J., Susskind, S., Kaplan, S. (eds.) Brussels and Jerusalem: From Conflict to Solution. The Harry S Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace, The Hebrew University Jerusalem.

Benvensiti, M., Hochstein, A. and Ury, W. 1985 “The Jerusalem Question – Problems, Procedures and Options”, The West Bank Data Base Project, Jerusalem.

Bollens, A. S. 1998 “Urban Planning amidst Ethnic Conflict: Jerusalem and Johannesburg”, Urban Studies, Vol 35, pp. 729-750. 2000 “On Narrow Ground: Urban Policy and Ethnic Conflict in Jerusalem and Belfast”, State University of New York Press.

Choshen, M., Yelinek, A., Bluer, E., Korach, M. and Assaf-Shapira, Y. 2012 “Jerusalem: Facts and Trends”, Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies, www.jiis.org

Choshen, M. 2005 “Demographic Process in Polarized Cities: The Case of Jerusalem”, In Auga, M., Nasrallah, R., Hasson, S, and Stetter, S. (eds.) Divided Cities in Transition Part Two – Challenges Facing Jerusalem and Berlin. Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, The International Peace and Cooperation Centre and The Jerusalem institute for Israel Studies.

Davis, M. 1990 “City of Quartz: Excavating the Future in Los Angeles”, Verso. London.

Dumper, M. 1993 “Jerusalem’s Infrastructure: is Annexation Irreversible?” Journal of Palestine Studies XXII, no. 3, pp. 70-95. 1997 “The Politics of Jerusalem Since 1967”, Colombia University Press, New York.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 229

Engels, F. 1888/1993 “The Conditions of the Working Classes in England”, Oxford University Press.

Hashimshoni, A., Hashimshoni, Z. and Schweid, Y. 1972 “Jerusalem Masterplan 1968”, Jerusalem Municipality, Jerusalem. (Hebrew).

Hasson, S. 2002 “Jerusalem: Between Idealism and Realism”, Geoform, 33, pp. 275-288. 2005 “Jerusalem: The Management of Urban Transformation”, In Auga, M., Nasrallah, R., Hasson, S, and Stetter, S. (eds.) Divided Cities in Transition Part Two – Challenges Facing Jerusalem and Berlin. Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, The International Peace and Cooperation Centre and The Jerusalem institute for Israel Studies. 2007 “Jerusalem in the Future: The Challenge of Transition”, The Floersheimer Institute for Policy Studies Jerusalem.

Hasson, S. and Kouba, S. 1996 “Local Politics in Jerusalem”, In Kotek, J., Susskind, S., Kaplan, S. (eds.) Brussels and Jerusalem: From Conflict to Solution. The Harry S Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace. The Hebrew University Jerusalem.

Kimhi, I. 2005 Models of Coordination and Cooperation in the Jerusalem Metropolitan Area. In Auga, M., Nasrallah, R., Hasson. S, and Stetter, S. (eds.) Divided Cities in Transition Part Two – Challenges Facing Jerusalem and Berlin, Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, The International Peace and Cooperation Centre and The Jerusalem institute for Israel Studies.

Klein, M. 2003 “The Jerusalem Problem – The Struggle for a Permanent Status”, Florida University Press.

Kollek, T. 1980 Introduction: Jerusalem – Today and Tomorrow. In Kraemer, J. (eds.) Jerusalem Problems and Prospects, Praeger Publishers New York.

Kotek, J. 1999 “Divided Cities in a European Cultural Context”, Progress in Planning No. 52, pp. 227-237.

Lapidoth, R. 2006 “Jerusalem”, Max Planck Encyclopedia of Public International Law, Oxford University Press, www.mpepil.com.

Madanipour, A. 1998 “Social Exclusion and Space”, In Madanipour, A., Cars, G., and Allen, J. (eds). Social Exclusion in European Cities: Process, Experiences and Responses. Jessica Kingsley Publishers, London.

Safier, M. 2001 “The Struggle for Jerusalem Arena of Nationalist Conflict or Crucible of Cosmopolitan Co- existence”, City, Vol. 5, No. 2, pp. 135-168.

Sharakansky, I. 1996 “Governing Jerusalem Again on the Worlds Agenda”, Wayne State University Press. Detroit.

Schweid, Y. 1986 “The Planning of Jerusalem Before and After 1967: Attitudes Toward Uncertainty”, In D. Morley, A. Shachar (eds.) Planning in Turbulence, Jerusalem, Magnes Press, 107-113.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 230

Sennet, R. 1999 “The Spaces of Democracy”, In Beauregard, R. A. and Body-Gendrot, S. (eds.) The Urban Moment – Cosmopolitan Essays on the Late-20th-Century City, Sage Publications, Inc. California.

Sharon, A. 1973 “Planning Jerusalem”, Weidenfeld and Nicolson, Jerusalem and London.

Sorkin, M. 2002 “Introduction: Thinking about Jerusalem”, In Sorkin, M. (2002) (eds.) The Next Jerusalem Sharing the Divided City, The Monacelli Press.

Rokem, J. 2010 “What Does Green Really Mean – Towards Reframing Jerusalem’s Planning Policy”, In Naik and Oldfield (eds.) Critical Cities Volume 2: Ideas, Knowledge and Agitation from Emerging Urbanists, Marydil Court Press.

Romann, M. and Weingrod, A. 1991 “Living Together Separately: Arabs and Jews in Contemporary Jerusalem”, Princeton, N. J. Princeton University Press.

Wasserstein, B. 2001 “Divided Jerusalem the Struggle for the Holy City”, Yale University Press.

Yacobi, H. 2012 “God, Globalization and Geopolitics on West Jerusalem’s gated communities”, Environment and Planning A, 44, pp. 2705-2720.

Yiftachel, O. and Yacobi H. 2002 “Planning a bi-national capital: should Jerusalem remain united?”, Geoforum, 33, pp. 137-145. 2004 “Control, Resistance and Informality: Urban Ethnocracy in Beer-Sheva, Israel”, In Roy, A and AlSayyad, N. (eds.) Urban Informality - Transnational Perspectives from the Middle East, Latin America and South Asia. Lexington Books. Oxford.

Young, I. M. 1990 “Justice and the Politics of Difference”, Princeton University Press. New Jersey.

NOTES

1. War of Independence (Israeli name) or Naqba “The disaster” (Palestinian name); to simplify, the common term 1948 War will be used in the following study. 2. The 1967 Six Day War between Israel and its Arab neighbors ended in the occupation by Israel of the West Bank, Gaza strip and Golan Heights. 3. The West Bank, including Eastern Jerusalem, was taken from Jordan by Israel in the 1967 War. 4. Jerusalem Master plan 2000 – Jerusalem Municipality Planning Department – (Hebrew): http:// www.jerusalem.muni.il/jer_sys/publish/HtmlFiles/13029/results_pub_id=24819.html

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 231

ABSTRACTS

This paper asserts that urban planning is a critical tool in designing an effective, attractive, functioning city. A strong urban planning system provides a way of balancing the interests of various groups (public and private) and communities within the city – under an umbrella that protects the public interest, and allows the city to flourish. In Jerusalem, where planning and ethno-national politics merge, the system of urban planning has been used over the last few decades to achieve Israeli national political goals, bolstering the Israeli population and its control of the land in the city, and limiting the urban development of, and control of land by, the Palestinian community. The paper starts with a brief review of contested cities literature, continues with an analysis of Jerusalem’s urban planning history and concludes with a more contemporary analysis of planning and politics in the contested city of Jerusalem.

INDEX

Keywords: Jerusalem, Urban Planning, Contested Cities, Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

AUTHOR

JONATHAN ROKEM

Jonathan Rokem is a PhD Candidate at the Department of Politics and Government at the Ben Gurion University of the Negev, and a Bettencourt Schueller Research Fellow at the French Research Center in Jerusalem (CRFJ). He holds bachelor’s degrees in Philosophy and Geography from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and a master’s degree in Urban Planning from the London School of Economics and Political Science, UK. His research focuses on spatial and social critical analysis of cities.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 232

Politiques et conflit dans une ville au cœur de la discorde L’urbanisme à Jérusalem sous gouvernement israélien

Jonathan Rokem Traduction : Judith Grumbach

Introduction

1 L’urbanisme est un instrument déterminant du développement d’une ville, instrument qui donne sa forme à l’espace construit. En général, l’urbanisme permet un bon aménagement de l’environnement et favorise les communautés viables au développement durable. Dans certains cas extrêmes, cependant, les conflits territoriaux priment sur l’urbanisme. C’est le cas notamment dans le Moyen Orient, avec le conflit israélo-palestinien en particulier. L’intérêt international soutenu et la couverture médiatique depuis cette région placent les questions géopolitiques locales sous les feux des projecteurs ; les conditions qui sous-tendent l’émergence de ce contexte mouvementé sont néanmoins rarement analysées. Cet article soutient que l’urbanisme a un impact fondamental sur le bon développement social et spatial des espaces urbains mais que dans certains cas extrêmes, comme celui de Jérusalem, les politiques de conflit donnent naissance à des conditions d’urbanisme différentes.

2 Plusieurs facteurs distinguent Jérusalem d’autres villes. Tout d’abord, c’est un centre religieux important pour trois religions monothéistes mondiales ; deuxièmement, deux ennemis la revendiquent comme capitale nationale, plaçant cette dernière au cœur du conflit israélo-palestinien. Les désaccords sur cette ville concernent plusieurs dimensions et Jérusalem se retrouve alors dans une situation symbolique particulièrement difficile lorsqu’il s’agit de résoudre ses tensions internes et externes. Aujourd’hui, Jérusalem est la ville la plus grande et la plus pauvre d’Israël. Fin 2010, elle comptait 789 000 habitants. La population « juive et autres » de la ville se montait à 504 000 habitants et on y comptait 285 000 « Arabes » (Choshen et al. 2012). Les documents et les analyses ne manquent pas sur le tournant important dans les conditions géopolitiques du pays après juin 1967, Israël occupant alors Jérusalem-Est

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 233

ainsi que les autres territoires. Malgré les objections de la communauté internationale, le gouvernement publiait alors le décret sur les municipalités (le Municipalities Ordinance [Amendment No. 6] Law, 5727-1967), étendant la loi israélienne à Jérusalem- Est (Lapidoth 2006). Ainsi, Israël annexait le territoire palestinien et déclarait Jérusalem capitale unifiée du pays. 3 La surface totale annexée par Israël à Jérusalem en 1967 était de 71 km² (soit 18 000 hectares environ), dont 6,5 km² appartenait – avant 1967 – à la municipalité de Jérusalem-Est (sous autorité jordanienne) et incluait la Vieille ville. Le reste de l’espace fut pris sur les juridictions de vingt-huit villages palestiniens des alentours de la ville. Du fait de l’occupation et de l’annexion de ces territoires en 1967, les frontières municipales triplèrent, passant de 38 km² à 109 km². Cette surface municipale élargie s’agrandit encore d’avantage en mai 1993 pour atteindre 126 km² (environ 32 000 hectares) (pour plus de détails, voir Rokem 2010).

Jérusalem dans le contexte des « villes de discordes ethnico-nationales »

4 Toutes les villes du monde connaissent une fragmentation à différents niveaux puisque les circonstances locales et globales produisent des divisions socio-économiques, culturelles et ethniques. Ce phénomène a fait l’objet d’étude dans quelques-unes des œuvres phare sur les villes. L’observation de la classe laborieuse de Manchester par Friedrich Engels en est l’un des exemples les plus anciens (cf. Engels 1844). Des analyses contemporaines analogues abondent, tel le « Fortress Urbanism » [l’urbanisme forteresse] de Mike Davies à Los Angeles (1990), la notion de « vivre ensemble dans la différence » de Marion Young ou l’analyse de l’exclusion sociale dans les villes européennes par Ali Madanipour (1998), pour n’en citer que quelques-unes. Cependant, ces chercheurs se focalisent sur des villes qui ne connaissent pas de divisions religieuses et ethno-nationalistes véritablement extrêmes. Ces caractéristiques n’existent que dans une minorité d’espaces urbains définis par Hasson et Kouba (1996 : 14) comme polarisés et politiquement divisés. Selon eux, les conflits dans ces villes sont pluridimensionnels et les grandes divisions ethnico-religieuses contiennent elles- mêmes des divisions nationales, une ségrégation géographique et une stratification économique. Pour Bollens (1998, 2000), bien qu’il existe des dynamiques de conflit complexes et fluctuantes dans les villes polarisées ethniquement parlant, les questions d’identité ethnique et de revendication de souveraineté nationale sur un territoire sont courantes dans ces mêmes villes. Kotek (1999 : 228) appellent ces espaces urbains des « villes frontières », différentes des villes « pluriethniques » ou « multiculturelles ». Par « frontière », Kotek veut dire que les divisions ne sont pas seulement ethniques ou économiques mais que ces villes se trouvent placées sur un ensemble de lignes de fracture entre diverses entités ethniques, religieuses et idéologiques. Cet ensemble de lignes de fracture pose un défi important aux politique et planification urbaines (Sharkansky 1996 ; Bollens 1998, 2000 ; Hasson 2002, 2005 ; Kmihi 2005 ; et al.).

5 De plus, ces villes jouant un rôle dans des conflits nationaux, les événements qui les concernent ont des répercussions bien au-delà de leurs portes. Parmi les villes les plus connues, il faut citer Belfast, Nicosie, Berlin, Sarajevo, Beyrouth, Bruxelles ; mais toutes les études s’accordent à dire que Jérusalem représente l’un des territoires où l’urbanisme est des plus complexes et où l’espoir de résoudre le conflit reste ténu

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 234

(Sharkansky 1996 ; Sennett 1999 ; Bollens 1998, 2000 ; Safier 2001 ; Sorkin 2002 ; Hasson 2003, 2005). Jérusalem est divisée à plus d’un titre : historiquement (Israël et Palestine), ethniquement et religieusement (Juifs et Arabes), d’un point de vue ethnico-national (Palestiniens et Israéliens) et sur le plan linguistique (hébreu et arabe). Les désaccords sur cette ville concernent plusieurs dimensions et Jérusalem se retrouve alors dans une situation symbolique particulièrement difficile lorsqu’il s’agit de résoudre ses tensions internes et externes. Les importants travaux effectués récemment sur les villes au cœur de conflits ethnico-nationaux ont surtout porté sur les questions de contrôle national et sur le territoire sans vraiment chercher à percer les dynamiques urbaines cachées sous les problèmes nationaux plus évidents (Benvenisti 1996 ; Dumper 1997 ; Bollens 2000 ; Yiftachel et Yacobi 2004).

Historique de l’urbanisme à Jérusalem

6 Afin de mieux comprendre la complexité du tissu spatial et social de Jérusalem, il convient de dresser un petit historique de cette ville au xxe siècle. En 1917, l’autorité sur Jérusalem passait de l’Empire ottoman au Mandat britannique. Ce changement de gouvernement allait modifier radicalement le statut de la ville qui, d’une bourgade provinciale aux confins du vaste Empire ottoman devenait la capitale du Mandat britannique en Palestine. La politique d’urbanisme du Mandat britannique renforça la position de la Vieille ville tout en développant la ville nouvelle en relation avec son cœur historique. Les Britanniques établirent de nouveaux plans d’urbanisme et firent construire plusieurs grands édifices dans Jérusalem. Ces plans d’aménagement pour le développement urbain étaient préparés par certains des plus grands urbanistes de l’époque : parmi les plans d’aménagement, il faut citer le Plan Ashbee et Geddes (1922), le Plan Holliday (1934) et le Plan Kendall (1944). Après trente années de Mandat britannique, à la création de l’Etat d’Israël suite à la guerre de 19481, Jérusalem fut divisée en deux : l’Est (du côté jordanien) et l’Ouest (du côté israélien). Lors des dix- neuf années qui suivirent, les deux parties de la ville se développèrent de manièrent indépendante, comme deux entités complètement séparées de chaque côté d’une zone- frontière militarisée située le long de la ligne de cessez-le-feu, au cœur historique de la cité, près des murs de la Vieille ville.

7 Deux objectifs d’urbanisme très différents dominèrent l’aménagement israélien de la ville jusqu’en 1967. Dans un cas, Jérusalem était conçue comme une ville-frontière vulnérable à la limite du royaume hachémite de Jordanie, hostile à Israël. L’aménagement urbain devait donc s’effectuer vers l’ouest, sans prendre en compte le vieux centre historique alors divisé. L’autre objectif préconisait le renforcement de la partie ouest de la ville, centre de Jérusalem, qui symboliserait alors la capitale d’Israël. En général, la division de la ville était une réalité immuable : « la ligne de séparation s’installa dans l’esprit des gens » (Schwied 1986 : 109). Officiellement, Jérusalem devint une ville divisée. De chaque côté de la frontière, Israéliens et Jordaniens développèrent leur part de la ville. Les Jordaniens s’attachèrent à étendre leurs banlieues en dehors des murs de la Vieille ville, notamment vers le nord (Sharon 1973 : 132). En Israël, le Plan de 1950 – premier plan d’urbanisme israélien pour Jérusalem – prévoyait l’extension et le développement de la ville. Le Plan de 1959 (plan directeur) qui lui succéda reprit la plupart des règlements du Plan de 1950 ; ce plan est le dernier plan d’urbanisme autorisé faisant force de loi pour Jérusalem, jusqu’à aujourd’hui (des

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 235

détails supplémentaires à ce sujet seront fournis dans le rapport concernant la période actuelle présenté plus loin dans cet article). Durant les dix-neuf années qui suivirent, les urbanistes s’attachèrent à développer de nouveaux quartiers à l’ouest de la ville, qui connut alors une croissance bien plus importante que le côté jordanien. Les zones proches de la frontière étaient des quartiers pauvres considérés comme dangereux à cause des tirs de sniper et de l’hostilité des Jordaniens. Les plans de 1950 et 1959 reflétaient bien la conviction des urbanistes que la ville resterait divisée sans aucune indication ni espoir de changement dans le statu quo. 8 Le plan d’urbanisme de 1968, préparé par Hashimshoni, Schwied et Hasimshoni en 1966-67, avant l’issue de la guerre de 1967, prévoyait une Jérusalem unifiée à un moment où cela défiait tous les espoirs et les objectifs d’urbanisme ; ce plan allait ainsi à l’encontre de la vision généralement admise que Jérusalem resterait divisée à jamais (Hashimshoni et al. 1972). Lorsque le plan d’urbanisme de 1968 fut enfin prêt à être soumis à la municipalité, la guerre de 1967 avait pris fin et l’espace urbain se retrouvait à nouveau sous une seule autorité. La réalité géographique augmentait donc la potentialité du plan d’urbanisme : « Jusqu’en 1967, Jérusalem était une ville où il ne se passait rien. Ses problèmes étaient surtout des problèmes locaux, municipaux – des problèmes importants, certes, mais locaux. Après 1967, les problèmes étaient différents ; les problèmes devinrent politique nationale » (Schwied 1986 : 112). 9 Avec la guerre de 19672 entre Israël et ses voisins arabes, le contrôle de la ville de Jérusalem repassa à une seule entité politique : Israël. Par l’intermédiaire du ministère de l’Intérieur et la municipalité de Jérusalem, le gouvernement israélien s’efforça sans attendre de façonner le tissu urbain au gré de ses besoins et de ses aspirations politiques. Ces quarante-cinq dernières années, Israël – par le biais du ministère de l’Intérieur et de la municipalité de Jérusalem, ses principales structures législatives – a été responsable de la planification et de la politique d’urbanisme à Jérusalem, conservant une nette séparation entre les zones d’habitation israéliennes et palestiniennes, comme le montre clairement la carte de 2008 présentée ci-dessous (fig. 1).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 236

Fig.1

Carte des frontières municipales de Jérusalem (les quartiers palestiniens apparaissent en brun et les quartiers israéliens en bleu). Source : Société des études arabes – Service de cartographie et de système d’information géographique, 2008.

10 Après la guerre de 1967, la politique d’urbanisme israélienne eut pour but une « réunification » générale de la ville en mettant l’accent notamment sur le centre historique dont les deux parties venaient d’être réunifiées. « Les premiers projets d’urbanisme envisageaient une réorientation qui mènerait, à terme, à relier les deux grands centres d’affaires de l’Est et de l’Ouest de Jérusalem » (Romann et Weingrod 1991 : 41). Le Plan de 1968, mentionné ci-dessus, comptait « établir la structure urbaine d’une ville unifiée, d’accès libre tant sur le plan national qu’international, et qui puisse faire office de capitale de l’Etat d’Israël » (Sharon 1973 :135). Le Plan de 1968, tout aussi sensible aux caractéristiques uniques de Jérusalem que les plans dessinés par les urbanistes du Mandat britanniques, limitait la construction autour de la Vieille ville afin d’y laisser des espaces ouverts. Il portait une attention particulière au cœur historique de la ville et, comme les plans précédents, il contrôlait la hauteur des bâtiments édifiés autour des murs de la Vieille ville.

11 Le Plan de 1968 avait comme directive d’intégrer les infrastructures et le développement de la ville par le biais de sa politique d’urbanisme et de l’expansion de l’aménagement. Dans les jours qui suivirent la réunification de Jérusalem en 1967, la municipalité entreprit « l’intégration des services et des infrastructures » des deux côtés de la ville (Dumper 1993 : 81). 12 Teddy Kollek, le maire de Jérusalem qui deviendrait, en vingt-cinq ans, la personnalité phare de la gestion et du développement de Jérusalem, réunit au début des années soixante-dix un panel d’experts chargé de revoir le Plan de 1968 et de poursuivre la

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 237

construction d’une « Jérusalem réunifiée » (Wasserstein 2001 : 217). Le maire nourrissait de grands espoirs quant à l’aménagement et au développement du centre de Jérusalem : Nous sommes complètement plongés dans l’aménagement de la ville afin d’en améliorer la qualité de vie. Actuellement, nos projets concernent la Vieille ville et ses proches environs. C’est à grands frais que nous aménageons une ceinture verte autour de la Vieille ville. Je crois que Jérusalem est la seule ville moderne dans laquelle une surface est achetée pour y créer un grand espace vert central, à l’image de ceux qui ont été préservés dans d’autres villes depuis plus d’un siècle : le Boston Common, Central Park à New York, Hyde Park à Londres et le Bois de Boulogne à Paris (Kollek1980 : 12). 13 L’un des architectes impliqués dans l’aménagement du centre historique de la ville après 1967, David Guggenheim, remarque à propos des plans d’urbanismes du Mandat Britannique : « Ils cherchaient clairement à développer l’espace central, autour de la Vieille ville, pour en faire un pont entre l’Est et l’Ouest de Jérusalem et effacer la vieille ligne de fracture entre les deux côtés » (entretien avec David Guggenheim le 11 juin 2006). Les urbanistes avaient conçu l’aménagement du centre de la ville en tenant compte de la spécificité de Jérusalem et de la centralité de cette ville sainte, espérant créer une zone tampon sous la forme d’un espace archéologique ouvert autour des murailles de la Vieille ville (Turner 2003 : 97). Cependant, comme nous l’avons noté plus haut, la politique d’urbanisme israélienne de Jérusalem été largement influencée par le conflit politique national et, depuis 1967, cette politique d’urbanisme s’est caractérisée par la volonté d’unifier la ville sous la souveraineté israélienne, comme l’indique le Plan de 1968 (voir les détails dans la suite de cet article).

Historique de l’urbanisme à Jérusalem – la période contemporaine

14 Comme nous l’avons dit dans l’historique de l’urbanisme ci-dessus, depuis 1967, la politique d’urbanisme a servi d’instrument pour asseoir la domination de la municipalité israélienne sur l’espace urbain et mieux affirmer la souveraineté de cette dernière. Malgré la rhétorique israélienne déclarant Jérusalem « ville unifiée », les politiques d’urbanisme ont été celles d’une ville coloniale : tant le gouvernement national que le gouvernement municipal ont suivi la même politique de judaïsation de la ville – c’est-à-dire l’expansion du contrôle politique, territorial, démographique et économique israélien sur Jérusalem (Yacobi 2012). Plus précisément, ces quarante-six dernières années, Israël a utilisé sa force militaire et sa puissance économique pour déplacer des frontières et en établir d’autres, accorder et refuser des droits et des ressources, déplacer des populations et donner une nouvelle forme aux territoires occupés afin d’assurer le contrôle juif. Dans le cas de Jérusalem-Est, Israël a eu recours à deux stratégies complémentaires : d’une part, la construction massive de quartiers juifs encerclant cette zone, dans lesquels réside actuellement plus de la moitié de la population juive de la ville ; d’autre part, le freinage du développement palestinien en démolissant les habitations, en interdisant légalement les constructions et le développement palestiniens et en empêchant l’immigration palestinienne vers la ville.

15 Depuis la construction du mur de séparation (appelé également « barrière de sécurité »), Israël a annexé 160 km² des territoires occupés, en plus des 70 km² annexés immédiatement après l’occupation de Jérusalem-Est en 1967. Il s’agit des colonies de

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 238

Maalé Adoumim et de Givat Zéev, du bloc d’implantations du Goush Etzion et de la colonie de Bétar Illit. Le mur renforce, dans les faits, les limites israéliennes de Jérusalem et en fait la plus grande ville d’Israël, d’un point de vue géographique. Par contre, ce mur nuit à la continuité géographique et à l’intégration fonctionnelle des quartiers palestiniens qui se retrouvent complètement détachés de leur hinterland (Yiftachel et Yacobi 2002). 16 D’après Israël, ce mur a été érigé pour empêcher les auteurs d’attentat-suicide de pénétrer dans la ville depuis la Cisjordanie. Ce mur a fortement perturbé la vie quotidienne des populations palestiniennes qui résident en Cisjordanie et dépendent de Jérusalem-Est pour leur travail ou pour leurs activités commerciales. Aussi a-t-on assisté à une immigration en masse des Palestiniens qui ont quitté la Cisjordanie pour s’installer dans la municipalité de Jérusalem (du côté israélien du mur). La construction de ce mur a donc transformé l’équilibre démographique puisque le pourcentage d’habitants palestiniens de Jérusalem a augmenté ; ironiquement, cela va à l’encontre de l’objectif principal de la politique d’urbanisme israélienne de ces quarante-six dernières années : conserver une majorité juive dans la ville. Après l’expansion de la ville suite à la guerre de 1967, la population totale de Jérusalem se montait à 266 000 habitants, dont 74 % de Juifs et 26 % d’Arabes et autres (Chosen 2005 : 11). Depuis, contrairement à la population juive, la population palestinienne est en augmentation constante. On prévoit que d’ici 2020, la population juive tombera à 62,2 % tandis que les Arabes et autres constitueront 37,8 % de la population de la ville (Chosen 2005 : 15). L’équilibre démographique de Jérusalem n’a cessé de changer. L’augmentation de la population palestinienne contrecarre la politique du gouvernement israélien et de la municipalité de Jérusalem de conserver une majorité juive dans la ville et s’inscrit dans ce qu’on appelle la « bataille démographique » (Fenster 2004 : 96). 17 Une autre question problématique se pose, à Jérusalem : celle de la souveraineté (Benvenisti 1985 et al. : 1 ; Baskin et Twite 1993 : 16 ; Klein 2003 : 54). La souveraineté est une des notions les plus complexes et les plus controversées du droit constitutionnel et du droit international. « La souveraineté fait généralement référence à une situation d’autorité politique absolue sur un territoire donné » (Baskin et Twite 1993 : 11). La plupart des pays du monde et la plupart des organisations internationales – y compris l’ONU – montrent une certaine réticence à reconnaitre Jérusalem comme capitale d’Israël. Cela est dû au fait que la partie est de la ville est considérée comme un territoire occupé ne faisant pas partie d’Israël mais de la Cisjordanie3. Après la guerre de 1967, Israël accorda un statut particulier et la citoyenneté israélienne à la population de Jérusalem-Est, l’objectif déclaré étant d’intégrer cette population à la ville tout en soutenant qu’elle recevrait les mêmes droits que la population israélienne. Techniquement, ces habitants de Jérusalem-Est, ainsi différenciés de ceux de la Cisjordanie, ont le droit de vote pour les élections municipales et ont accès aux services sociaux de la ville. Dans l’ensemble, les Yérosolomitains de l’est soutiennent que la municipalité est illégitime et, depuis 1967, ils marquent leur opposition en s’abstenant de participer aux élections municipales (Romann et Weingrod 1991 : 193 ; Hasson et Kouba 1996 : 120). 18 Depuis 1967, la politique municipale de Jérusalem a été marquée par le discours de la politique nationale israélienne. Ce dernier a principalement visé à « réunifier » Jérusalem sous la souveraineté israélienne alors que la population palestinienne de l’est de la ville voit l’intégration de Jérusalem-Est comme une « annexion » illégale. Dans les

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 239

villes ethniquement divisées, la politique d’urbanisme joue un rôle prépondérant dans le renforcement des divisions spatiales et sociales (Bollens 2000). Le financement pour l’urbanisme et les projets de constructions est inégalement réparti entre l’est et l’ouest et la ville reste de ce fait divisée en deux pôles de croissance différents tandis que les quartiers-charnières et les vieilles zones frontalières, délaissés, constituent toujours autant de lieux de division entre les deux côtés. Jusqu’à aujourd’hui, l’urbanisme et le développement de Jérusalem ont suivi les directives du dernier plan d’urbanisme autorisé faisant force de loi à Jérusalem, plan qui remonte à 1959. Ce Projet de 1959, établi à une époque où la ville était divisée, ne concerne que la partie ouest de la Jérusalem d’avant 1967. Il ne peut donc pas véritablement déterminer l’urbanisme et le développement de la ville dans les conditions actuelles. Ainsi, en absence de mise à jour, pendant près de cinquante ans, la municipalité, le ministère de l’Intérieur et divers services gouvernementaux se sont occupé d’urbanisme et de développement sans plan ayant force de loi. Le « Plan d’urbanisme 2000 » (analysé plus en détail ci- dessous) a été publié en 2004 ; jusqu’à aujourd’hui, il n’a pas été autorisé. Si aucun plan d’urbanisme n’a été autorisé, au fil des ans, c’est à cause des désaccords entre les responsables politiques. Par conséquence, le développement de Jérusalem s’est effectué sans grand rapport avec ce qui était prévu dans le Projet de 1959 et la ville s’est construite suivant des plans de quartier détaillés mais sans coordinations globale. D’où une incohérence et une ambiguïté dans la politique d’urbanisme qui n’a produit aucun plan général permettant de continuer d’aménager la ville. Comme nous l’avons dit, le nouveau plan d’urbanisme de Jérusalem – le « Plan d’urbanisme de Jérusalem de 2000 »4 (fig. 2) – est le premier plan exhaustif qui prend en compte l’Est et l’Ouest de Jérusalem et qui aborde la question du maintien de l’équilibre démographique dans une ville non divisée, suivant la politique du gouvernement israélien. Le principe sous-jacent à la politique d’urbanisme à Jérusalem est le développement d’une grande ville unifiée à majorité juive. L’objectif du plan est d’atteindre une population juive à 60 % et arabe à 40 %, et de conserver cet équilibre dans l’avenir.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 240

Fig. 2

Plan d’urbanisme de Jérusalem de 2000. Source : Service d’urbanisme de la municipalité de Jérusalem

19 Ce Plan d’urbanisme de Jérusalem de 2000 représente une amélioration par rapport aux plans existants. Néanmoins, les bénéfices que les Palestiniens pourront en tirer restent symboliques. En effet, si le plan offre de nouvelles possibilités en matière de projets résidentiels, il introduit en même temps un certain nombre de règlements de construction qui empêchent les résidents de profiter de ces possibilités.

20 Ce plan d’urbanisme ne donne pas d’indication quant à l’utilisation des terrains et ne peut donc pas être utilisé pour délivrer des permis de construire, par exemple. Pour aménager les zones comprises dans ce projet, il faudrait un plan local plus détaillé réglementant l’utilisation des divers terrains, conformément à la loi, afin de délivrer des permis de construire. Or pour la plupart des quartiers palestiniens de Jérusalem- Est, il n’existe aucun plan local et ces zones resteront inexploitées. 21 La ratification de ce plan d’urbanisme de Jérusalem de 2000 a provoqué des dissensions entre divers responsables politiques. En 2004, la première version du plan était publiée afin d’être examinée. Dans cette version, une surface totale d’environ 11,8 km² était dévolue au développement de nouveaux quartiers de Jérusalem. Seuls 2,3 km² de cette surface (soit moins de 20 %) revenait aux quartiers palestiniens (alors que 9,5 km² étaient réservés aux quartiers israéliens). 22 En avril 2007, le comité local de l’urbanisme de Jérusalem ratifiait le plan et le transférait au comité d’urbanisme régional pour qu’il l’approuve également. De 2007 à mai 2008, le plan fut l’objet de vives discussions au sein du comité d’urbanisme régional qui finit par le publier afin de le soumettre aux objections du public. Ensuite, les

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 241

urbanistes devaient apporter au plan les modifications demandées avant de le soumettre à un examen final. Cela ne s’est pas encore fait. 23 Les membres du conseil municipal de Jérusalem sont responsables de ce retard. Ils ont fait parvenir au ministère de l’Intérieur un document détaillé dans lequel ils soutiennent que le plan ratifié constitue une discrimination contre les Israéliens en faveur des Palestiniens. (Le ministère de l’Intérieur, en haut de la hiérarchie en matière d’aménagement du territoire, est le responsable général de la politique d’urbanisme.) Le ministère de l’Intérieur a demandé au directeur du bureau régional d’urbanisme de ne pas donner son accord tout de suite. Ainsi, si le Plan d’urbanisme de Jérusalem de 2000 n’a pas encore été ratifié, c’est à cause des désaccords entre les responsables politiques israéliens. 24 Il faut noter que la plus grande mobilisation populaire israélienne contre la construction d’un projet de logements à Jérusalem (comptant 16 000 objections soumises à la commission d’urbanisme) a été organisée contre le « Plan Safdie » (Ebauche 37/1, prévoyant la construction de 20 000 logements sur une surface non bâtie de 26,6 km² à l’ouest de Jérusalem), notamment par des associations de protection de l’environnement ; depuis 2006, cette mobilisation a réussi à saborder le plan. La crise du logement à l’ouest de la ville pousse à l’exploitation des terrains à l’est pour y bâtir des habitations israéliennes ; le gouvernement a d’ailleurs approuvé les ébauches de plan concernant la zone « E 1 » (contestée) – un terrain relativement vide aux environs de Jérusalem-Est, en Cisjordanie. Cette zone est décisive car elle relie le nord et le sud de la Cisjordanie et peut jouer un rôle prépondérant dans la création d’un Etat Palestinien viable.

Conclusion

25 La politique d’urbanisme de Jérusalem détermine la sphère sociale de manière explicite et donne forme à des pratiques sociales spécifiques. Ces pratiques sociales permettent à certains « locuteurs privilégies » (les responsables politiques israéliens) de gérer et de dominer la politique d’urbanisme et le développement de la ville.

26 La recherche dans notre domaine véhicule la vieille idée que Jérusalem a peu de chance de devenir une ville réellement ouverte et unifiée. Dans cet article, nous admettons que dans les circonstances politiques actuelles, les espoirs de voir une véritable solution au problème de Jérusalem restent minces. Malgré tout, à propos de cette ville, il convient de citer Scott Bollens (2000), qui affirme que la politique d’urbanisme ne devrait pas attendre l’avènement d’un processus de paix global mais peut au contraire constituer un instrument important dans la gestion du conflit à l’échelle locale tout en jouant un rôle de facilitateur pour trouver des solutions politiques plus approfondies. Dans ce sens, il faudrait voir la politique d’aménagement et l’urbanisme comme des outils essentiels, à part entière, pour parvenir à une plus grande coopération, en l’absence de solutions politiques plus générales. Pourtant, durant ces quarante-six dernières années, la politique d’urbanisme de Jérusalem, sous l’égide de la municipalité soutenue par le gouvernement israélien, a servi à implanter et à maintenir une majorité juive dans la ville. Mais dans les faits, cet objectif est loin d’avoir été atteint. 27 Le développement des quartiers juifs de Jérusalem continue, grâce à l’expansion des secteurs de logements, de commerce et de l’emploi, expansion qui se base sur des ébauches de plans locaux dans les parties est et ouest de la ville. Il n’existe par contre

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 242

aucune ébauche de plan local ratifié en ce qui concerne les quartiers palestiniens et l’économie de Jérusalem-Est, sans perspective d’amélioration, dépendra toujours de celle de Jérusalem-Ouest. 28 Il faut sans tarder faire appel à la politique d’urbanisme afin de promouvoir de véritables solutions à Jérusalem. Cela signifie que la politique d’urbanisme unilatérale israélienne actuelle doit faire place à une politique localisée et partagée. Dans un Moyen-Orient tourmenté, cela semble relever de l’utopie. Malgré tout, avant d’espérer une quelconque résolution générale, il faut se détourner d’objectifs d’aménagement unilatéraux et mettre en œuvre un urbanisme qui favorise le changement au profit de tous les résidents de la ville.

BIBLIOGRAPHIE

Baskin, G. and Twite, R. 1993 « The future of Jerusalem: proceedings of the first Israeli-Palestinian international academic seminar on the future of Jerusalem », Israel/Palestine Center for Research and Information. www.ipcri.org.

Benvensiti, M., Hochstein, A. and Ury, W. 1985 « The Jerusalem Question – Problems, Procedures and Options », The West Bank Data Base Project, Jerusalem.

Bollens, A. S. 1998 « Urban Planning amidst Ethnic Conflict: Jerusalem and Johannesburg », Urban Studies, Vol 35, pp. 729-750. 2000 « On Narrow Ground: Urban Policy and Ethnic Conflict in Jerusalem and Belfast », State University of New York Press.

Choshen, M., Yelinek, A., Bluer, E., Korach, M. and Assaf-Shapira, Y. 2012 « Jerusalem: Facts and Trends », Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies, www.jiis.org

Choshen, M. 2005 « Demographic Process in Polarized Cities: The Case of Jerusalem », In Auga, M., Nasrallah, R., Hasson, S, and Stetter, S. (eds.) Divided Cities in Transition Part Two – Challenges Facing Jerusalem and Berlin. Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, The International Peace and Cooperation Centre and The Jerusalem institute for Israel Studies.

Davis, M. 1990 « City of Quartz: Excavating the Future in Los Angeles », Verso. London.

Dumper, M. 1993 « Jerusalem’s Infrastructure: is Annexation Irreversible? » Journal of Palestine Studies XXII,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 243

no. 3, pp. 70-95. 1997 « The Politics of Jerusalem Since 1967 », Colombia University Press, New York.

Engels, F. 1888/1993 « The Conditions of the Working Classes in England », Oxford University Press.

Hashimshoni, A., Hashimshoni, Z. and Schweid, Y. 1972 « Jerusalem Masterplan 1968 », Jerusalem Municipality, Jerusalem. (Hebrew).

Hasson, S. 2002 « Jerusalem: Between Idealism and Realism », Geoform, 33, pp. 275-288. 2005 « Jerusalem: The Management of Urban Transformation », In Auga, M., Nasrallah, R., Hasson, S, and Stetter, S. (eds.) Divided Cities in Transition Part Two – Challenges Facing Jerusalem and Berlin. Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, The International Peace and Cooperation Centre and The Jerusalem institute for Israel Studies. 2007 « Jerusalem in the Future: The Challenge of Transition », The Floersheimer Institute for Policy Studies Jerusalem.

Hasson, S. and Kouba, S. 1996 « Local Politics in Jerusalem », In Kotek, J., Susskind, S., Kaplan, S. (eds.) Brussels and Jerusalem: From Conflict to Solution. The Harry S Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace. The Hebrew University Jerusalem.

Klein, M. 2003 « The Jerusalem Problem – The Struggle for a Permanent Status », Florida University Press.

Kollek, T. 1980 Introduction: Jerusalem – Today and Tomorrow. In Kraemer, J. (eds.) Jerusalem Problems and Prospects, Praeger Publishers New York.

Kotek, J. 1999 « Divided Cities in a European Cultural Context », Progress in Planning No. 52, pp. 227-237.

Lapidoth, R. 2006 « Jerusalem », Max Planck Encyclopedia of Public International Law, Oxford University Press, www.mpepil.com.

Madanipour, A. 1998 « Social Exclusion and Space », In Madanipour, A., Cars, G., and Allen, J. (eds). Social Exclusion in European Cities: Process, Experiences and Responses. Jessica Kingsley Publishers, London.

Safier, M. 2001 « The Struggle for Jerusalem Arena of Nationalist Conflict or Crucible of Cosmopolitan Co- existence », City, Vol. 5, No. 2, pp. 135-168.

Sharakansky, I. 1996 « Governing Jerusalem Again on the Worlds Agenda », Wayne State University Press. Detroit.

Schweid, Y. 1986 « The Planning of Jerusalem Before and After 1967: Attitudes Toward Uncertainty », In D. Morley, A. Shachar (eds.) Planning in Turbulence, Jerusalem, Magnes Press, 107-113.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 244

Sennet, R. 1999 « The Spaces of Democracy », In Beauregard, R. A. and Body-Gendrot, S. (eds.) The Urban Moment – Cosmopolitan Essays on the Late-20th-Century City, Sage Publications, Inc. California.

Sharon, A. 1973 « Planning Jerusalem », Weidenfeld and Nicolson, Jerusalem and London.

Sorkin, M. 2002 « Introduction: Thinking about Jerusalem », In Sorkin, M. (2002) (eds.) The Next Jerusalem Sharing the Divided City, The Monacelli Press.

Rokem, J. 2010 « What Does Green Really Mean – Towards Reframing Jerusalem’s Planning Policy », In Naik and Oldfield (eds.) Critical Cities Volume 2: Ideas, Knowledge and Agitation from Emerging Urbanists, Marydil Court Press.

Romann, M. and Weingrod, A. 1991 « Living Together Separately: Arabs and Jews in Contemporary Jerusalem », Princeton, N. J. Princeton University Press.

Wasserstein, B. 2001 « Divided Jerusalem the Struggle for the Holy City », Yale University Press.

Yacobi, H. 2012 « God, Globalization and Geopolitics on West Jerusalem’s gated communities », Environment and Planning A, 44, pp. 2705-2720.

Yiftachel, O. and Yacobi H. 2002 « Planning a bi-national capital: should Jerusalem remain united? », Geoforum, 33, pp. 137-145. 2004 « Control, Resistance and Informality: Urban Ethnocracy in Beer-Sheva, Israel », In Roy, A and AlSayyad, N. (eds.) Urban Informality - Transnational Perspectives from the Middle East, Latin America and South Asia. Lexington Books. Oxford.

Young, I. M. 1990 « Justice and the Politics of Difference », Princeton University Press. New Jersey.

NOTES

1. Guerre d’indépendance (nom israélien) ou Naqba « le Désastre » (nom palestinien) ; pour simplifier, le terme « guerre de 1948 » sera utilisé dans le reste de cet article. 2. La guerre des Six Jours en 1967 entre Israël et ses voisins arabes prit fin avec l’occupation israélienne de la Cisjordanie, de la bande de Gaza et du plateau du Golan. 3. La Cisjordanie, dans laquelle se trouve Jérusalem-Est, a été prise par Israël à la Jordanie lors de la guerre de 1967. 4. Plan d’urbanisme de Jérusalem de 2000 – Service d’urbanisme de la municipalité de Jérusalem (hébreu) : http://www.jerusalem.muni.il/jer_sys/publish/HtmlFiles/13029/ results_pub_id=24819.html

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 245

RÉSUMÉS

L’urbanisme est un outil déterminant dans la conception d’une ville belle et fonctionnelle. Un système d’urbanisme fort permet d’équilibrer les intérêts des différents groupes (publics ou privés) et des différentes communautés de la ville, tout en protégeant l’intérêt public et en assurant la prospérité de la ville. A Jérusalem, où l’urbanisme et la politique ethnico-nationale se rejoignent, l’urbanisme a servi, ces dernières décennies, à atteindre les objectifs de la politique nationale israélienne, à dynamiser la population israélienne et à renforcer son emprise sur les sols urbains tout en limitant le développement urbain palestinien et en restreignant son contrôle des terrains. Cet article passe en revue les études faites sur les villes de conflit avant de présenter une analyse de l’histoire de l’urbanisme de Jérusalem ; cet article se termine par une analyse contemporaine de l’urbanisme et de la politique dans Jérusalem, une ville au cœur de la discorde.

INDEX

Mots-clés : Jérusalem, urbanisme, ville de conflit, conflit israélo-palestinien

AUTEURS

JONATHAN ROKEM

Jonathan Rokem est étudiant en doctorat au département de sciences politiques à l’Université Ben-Gurion dans le Néguev. Parallèlement, il poursuite ses recherches au Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem dans le cadre de la bourse Bettencourt Schueller. Il a une licence de philosophie et de géographie de l’Université hébraïque de Jérusalem et un master d’urbanisme de la London School of Economics and Political Science. Sa recherche porte sur l’analyse critique des villes du point de vue spatial et social.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 246

Pursuing the significance of “living together” Siegfried Landshut: a portrait of a German-Jewish intellectual

Elena Fiorletta Translation : Daphne Granot

“I am profoundly impressed by everything that I have seen. While not ignoring in any way the difficulties and often the concerns of the many aspects of community life, this land offers nonetheless in its entirety a lively and persuasive reflection of willpower and transformation. From a professional point of view, it is such a particularly attractive field to implement new forces that I have no other desire than to be able to work on it”.1 1 The author indulges in these lines during a few moments of optimism after his forced exile, three years after his departure from the port of Hamburg. This is said after Siegfried Landshut, a young German-Jewish intellectual is thrown out of the university of the Hanseatic city when the Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service is passed on April 7, 1933. The land he deeply favors is Palestine, which has become the favorite destination of the Jewish communities who have to escape the anti-Semitic persecutions in Europe and who are seduced by the Zionist project that was initiated fifty years earlier. The “difficulties” and the “concerns” he evokes refer to the complexity of the historical and political context of the place, which is marked by a civil war that has been fuelled by the national aspiration of the Jewish immigration and by the desire for independence from the Arab population. His only true desire is to continue with his research work, specifically at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. There, several Jewish foundations act as his sponsor in order to allow him to finally take up his intellectual activity in an academic environment, even if only precariously.

2 There is one additional point in these lines that is filled with hope and expectation, which is worth dwelling on. This last point is a window on the intellectual profile of our author: “I – he writes – am not ignorant of the difficulties and the concerns of the many aspects of community life”, which he is ready to confront. We can see that it is not only a question of the refugee’s perplexity toward the perspective of finding himself in an unheard of condition of existential insecurity. He characterizes it with the adjective that he uses in order to describe the “life” that awaits him in Palestine. This adjective,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 247

“collective”, completely illustrates his reflection on politics [das Politische] from the very first research projects and up to his last works. 3 This letter is a unique testimony to this period, marked by what is described as a “rupture in civilization”2 [Zivilisationsbruch], which is unparalleled in the modern age. Nevertheless, the combination of references to historical facts, to personal points of view, to the prospect of new opportunities for life and finally, to the main theme of his research, which is put forward in a more implicit manner, does in fact turn it also into a document of the time and a synthetic overview of his intellectual profile on which the scientific community has not dwelled on until now. 4 The following pages thus offer the opportunity to explore a few elements of the author’s biography – which today is only available in German thanks to the pilot work of the historian Rainer Nicolaysen from Hamburg – with particular attention to the years of exile in Palestine. These preliminary notes provide us with a first insight on the concepts of “living together” with one another [miteinander zusammenleben] and of man as an individual living in a community [Gemeinwesen], which both play a central role in Landshut’s work and which will undergo a significant semantic alteration during his stay in Jerusalem.

First part

5 We cannot remain insensitive to the many parallels, which link his journey to the intellectual scene of the Weimar Republic when reading Siegfried Landshut’s biography. He was born in Strasbourg into an assimilated Jewish family. Landshut attended the local protestant grammar school when he was a child. There, he acquired a humanistic education, which later guided him towards classical studies. Apart from Latin and Greek, he also studied English and French. He used the latter in his studies on Rousseau, Montesquieu and Tocqueville as well as during his exile in Egypt. When he was seventeen years old, Landshut was enlisted into the German ground forces that sent him to the front in the Middle East as a non-commissioned officer. He was wounded and returned to Germany after one and a half years at war and then again, five years later, at the end of the hostilities. The war had taken him to Turkey, then to Aleppo, Damascus, Beirut, Jaffa, Jerusalem, Be’er Sheva, cities to which he would return twenty years later as a refugee. The experience of the conflict marked his life and his future choices profoundly, as his letters, filled with doubt and worry for the future, reveal.

6 This uncertainty towards his “new existential situation”3 lead him to abandon his law studies in order to study political economy in Freiburg with Robert Liefmann and in Frankfurt with Franz Oppenheimer, In 1921, he completed his doctorate with a thesis that focused on the concept of “l’homo oeconomicus” as part of the theoretical debate regarding the autonomy of the social and historical sciences that sought a new methodological status. While he was trying to find an answer “to the problematic nature of life”,4 which was typical for the fragile balance of the Weimar Republic, Landshut opted for the philosophical disciplines. At first, he pursued his studies with Edmund Husserl and Martin Heidegger in Freiburg and then, in Marburg and after that with Max Scheler in Cologne and Alfred Weber and Karl Jaspers in Heidelberg. He met Karl Löwith, Hannah Arendt, Günther Anders, Hans Jonas, Herbert Marcuse, only to

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 248

name a few young German-Jewish intellectuals who had shaped the “Weimar Laboratory”. 7 During this phase of his intellectual work, Landshut developed the central theme of his research activity: politics as a living body of knowledge, oriented toward the common good but also as a dimension essential for the human community. In 1925, his first analytical paper was published under the title A few basic concepts of politics,5 which was about the definition of a few “basic” concepts of modern politics in the light of semantic change which was brought about by modernity. Even though his article, which was published in the Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik and which was edited by the brothers Weber, was praised by Wilhelm Hennis6 as the certificate of birth of German political science, it wasn’t able to assure him a steady position at the University of Heidelberg. The wave of anti-Semitism, which actually raged through Baden-Württemberg before it took over the rest of the country, de facto prevented him from receiving his appointment, which was granted each year to one single person among candidates who were not of Aryan origin.7 8 Thus, Landshut moved to Hamburg where he received a position as a researcher at the Institute for Foreign Politics, which was led by the pacifist and liberal democratic jurist Albrecht Mendelssohn Bartholdy. This was one of the first research institutes in the field of international relations and peace treaties in the world. There, Landshut wrote a study on the systems of mandates and bonded labor, which was never published8 but he was nevertheless able to address more precisely the problems related to the political situation of the time.9 In 1926, he published an article on the system of mandates by Die Gesellschaft,10 the international German Social Democrats magazine. In 1927, he began working together with Eduard Heimann, a professor of political economy at the University of Hamburg and a Social Democrat who played an active role in the fight against the antidemocratic and unconstitutional wave that was already undermining the basis of the fragile Weimar Republic. 9 The following five years were marked by intensive research and publications. At that time, he defined the directions of his theoretical work: the ideal historical [geistesgeschichtliche] analysis of the concepts of politics, the nature of modern democracy, the conditions in which one could imagine the future of a Europe of peoples, but also the methodological question that Landshut approached on the perspective of the criticism of sociology and the method of Max Weber’s Ideal Type. Landshut dedicated one of his essays, which was one of the most important ones written at that period,11 to the sociologist Heidelberg. Furthermore, he wrote an intellectual and historic biography of Karl Marx12 and started establishing contact with the SPD in order to publish Karl Marx writings from his youth, which he actually did a few years later.13 10 In 1928, he presented his candidacy for tenure in “politics”, a discipline that had not been taught at German universities until then. The subject of this thesis, a “criticism of sociology”, as well as his reputation as a Social Democrat and the hostility from the academic corporation compelled him to withdraw his application and to write another thesis, which was dedicated to the historical-systematic analysis of the concept of “economics” [das Ökonomische].14 Yet, this was not sufficient to ensure his goal: the Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service that went into force on April 7, 1933, forced him as well as millions of other intellectual Jews to leave the university and, shortly after, the country. Almost a fifth of the teaching staff was forced to leave

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 249

the University of Hamburg, among them Ernst Cassirer, Albrecht Mendelssohn Bartholdy, Eduard Heimann and Erwin Panofsky. Landshut’s expulsion from the university was a dramatic interruption to his promising intellectual career: in 1929, he had published his highly controversial “criticism of sociology” that had provoked a heated debate inside and outside of the academic circle. 11 At first, he went into exile to Egypt, where he was due to hold a series of conferences at the University of Alexandria during the summer of 1933. Although he had hoped to receive a post at the University of Cairo, his expectations were promptly dashed. Disillusionment and profound bitterness overcame him and he had to bear an increasingly difficult economic situation. The following year he wrote and published two essays in French, which were dedicated to the analysis of the transformation of “living together”, to the development of modern society and to the role of capitalism in the western society.15 At the same time, he worked for a short time at the library of the Borchardt Institute. In Alexandria he taught in a school, translated several texts into French for an import-export company while continuing his research that focused on the history of contemporary Egypt and the constitutional Egyptian history. In Cairo, Landshut met Alexandre Koyré whom he might have met at the university in some courses, which were taught by Husserl or in Cologne with Scheler. At that time, Koyré worked at the university before being called back to Paris in 1934.16 12 During that same year, Landshut started to look for an alternative destination, elsewhere than Egypt. Heimann put him in touch with the director of the League of Nation’s Commission for Jewish Refugees from Germany, Norman Bentwich. He thus hoped for a work opportunity at the very young Hebrew University of Jerusalem. As the perspective of being integrated into the University in Jerusalem got closer, Landshut decided to resume his project that he had started two years earlier and to which he had dedicated a few conferences, namely the study of “The European Judaism through the Emancipation”, a two-level research work – on the one hand, the importance of emancipation for the “Jewish human being” and the Jewish tradition and on the other hand, the influence of emancipated Judaism on the development of the 19th century.17 13 The project never saw the light of day even if the efforts made by the Hebrew University of Jerusalem started to bear fruit. Fritz Warburg, a banker from Hamburg, put Landshut in contact with the intellectual Ernst Simon who took some initiatives in order to ensure him a fellowship at the University of Jerusalem. Among the diverse letters that were submitted to the Rockefeller Foundation in order to promote Landshut’s candidacy, we must here mention Alexander Rüstow’s letter who deemed his “criticism of sociology as one of the most significant and promising contributions to the German sociology during the last decades”18 as well as the one by Richard Koebner, a professor of contemporary history at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, who considered his integration to be “very desirable”.19 14 During the summer of 1936 he finally left for Palestine where in October, he started his research at the University of Jerusalem. For the first time since the beginning of his exile, Landshut was able to concentrate on his research projects in a real academic environment. Unfortunately, the reality disappointed his expectations again: the Hebrew University had been created only eleven years earlier and in 1936, there was still neither a department devoted to social sciences nor to political sciences or political economy where Landshut could have applied his intellectual skills and his professionalism.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 250

15 The topics that had nourished his works until then – especially the history of the relationship between the State and society, the methodological conflict in the social historical sciences, Marx and Weber as social philosophers – faded little by little due to the highly topical concern of the socio-political context. During his two years as researcher at the Hebrew University, Landshut’s research study changed into “the question of community facilities” in Palestine. Not only did Landshut have to work on a new subject and a new method but he also had to study Hebrew, which was essential for every teacher at the young University of Jerusalem. In addition, he had a difficult family situation, with a wife who was sick with tuberculosis and three children to care for. To have only two years in order to ensure him with a stable position due to the cutting off of funding from the Rockefeller Foundation turned the years 1936-1938 into an experience that was far from easy. However, Landshut was already able to teach lessons dedicated to Max Weber’s social philosophy in Hebrew during the summer of 1938. 16 Neither the students’ positive echoes of his teaching nor the pressures from his colleagues could however ensure him a stable employment: the President of the Hebrew University, Salman Schocken, refused to extend his contract. Even the personal positions taken on by Martin Buber, who had just arrived to Jerusalem, Hugo Bergmann, Richard Koebner, Georg Landauer, Arthur Ruppin and Ernst Simon didn’t succeed in persuading the University’s management to keep Landshut’s post, at least until the end of his study on the community establishments in Palestine. In the end, from a professional point of view, the two years at the Hebrew University didn’t represent a real return to work in academia but from a cultural and human point of view, they opened doors for him to the small Jewish-German intellectual community of the Universalist School that was a committed and active member of the Brit Shalom organization, which promoted the idea of a binational solution in order to put an end to the conflict between the new Jewish immigration and the Arab population. 17 Landshut never officially joined Brit Shalom but his works that were published during those years showed a convergence with the group’s program on the cultural plan and ideas. In 1939, he wrote the essay The social revolution in Landauer’s concept, 20 which constituted one of the chapters of a collective volume of the Histadrut cultural center, which also collected essays written by Hugo Bergmann, Max Brod and Martin Buber, devoted to the figure of the anarchist intellectual who had been killed twenty years earlier in Munich by the Freikorps. Two years later he published At the end of the century (1840-1940),21 another essay devoted to the analysis of mutations within contemporary society, with the very idea being in the epochal change of the role of the political authority and the masses. 18 His most important work was published in 1944 after four years of research when Landshut was no longer part of the teaching staff at the Hebrew University and had to cope again with particularly precarious financial difficulties that forced him to leave Jerusalem. This was when his research colleagues, and especially Martin Buber, proposed that he pursue his research work on the community institutions by conducting field research and by experiencing the social organization of a Kibbutz in Palestine. In 1940, Landshut moved with his entire family to the Kibbutz Givat Brenner where he analyzed the different aspects of the community experience of “production units”, established by the new Jewish immigration in Palestine. The report was written in German and he was able to publish it only thanks to the “Ruppin Science” prize that

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 251

allowed him to finance the translation into Hebrew. Yet, the author’s skepticism to collectivism and the rigidity of the organization that centralized the rhythms of life, to the isolation of the Kibbutz in relation to its environment, to the consequences of the growing pressure imposed by the industrialization’s process condemned this first scientific work Kibbutz22 to a rather cold and suspicious reaction. 19 Another article that was published in 1944 and was entitled Reflections on Aliyah23 showed his doubts on the true ability to attract the Jews who were still in Europe to the “homeland” project in Palestine. This did not help him to ensure the trust of the academic community in Jerusalem. In fact, since 1942, Landshut had started to collaborate with the German Department of the British Mediterranean Station, the branch of the Political Warfare Executive, which specialized in the Middle East and which was based in London when nothing could have implied that he would return to the Hebrew University. He was still in touch with the German-Jewish intellectual group and he continued to collaborate with Buber, Simon, Landauer and Koebner as a lecturer at the School for Adult Education in Jerusalem and gave a conference on “Romanticism in the State and within the Society”. The last act in his engagement with the German-Jewish community in Jerusalem was an essay dedicated to Karl Marx and Max Weber as well as to the concepts of alienation and rationalization as the key to interpreting modernity.24 20 Moreover, it was the ultimate evidence of Landshut’s presence in Palestine that he decided to leave for Cairo where he directed the “Educational Section” of the British Foreign Office whose goal was to teach the German prisoners of war the values of democracy. He stayed there until 1948 and then, left for London at the end of his exile. There, he became the Research Director at the Anglo-Jewish Association and focused in particular on a research on the Jewish communities in the Muslim countries of the Middle East, which was published in 1949.25 During that same year he renewed contact with the University of Hamburg, which offered him the Chair for Political Science, the discipline on which he focused until the end of his academic career, in 1951. 21 Siegfried Landshut and Eduard Heimann belonged to the few German Jews who returned to Germany “in order to stay there”.26 When the University of Hamburg had refused to grant him his tenure in “politics” eighteen years earlier and had forced him to interrupt his research, this same institution invited Landshut to devote himself to the difficult task of reestablishing a “political science” department that was missing from the academic curriculum. From 1952 to 1958, he joined the German Association for Political Science [Deutsche Vereinigung für Politische Wissenschaft] in order to encourage the renewal of contacts among the international scientific communities. From a theoretical point of view, the themes of his research works revolved around the clarification of tasks in politics and in political science in contemporary society. 22 His scientific activity continued at the university as well as at the Academy for Social Economics in Hamburg [Akademie für Gemeinwirtschaft Hamburg] and in the development of new editorial initiatives. In 1953, he published again the writings Marx produced in his youth. One year later, he started translating Tocqueville and oversaw the publication of a choice of several of his texts27 by fostering a revival of the French thinker in Germany,28 the analysis of the modern state by Herman Finer29 and in 1959, the Political Parties by Maurice Duverger.30 In 1967, he gave one single lecture dedicated to the State of Israel twenty years after its birth: the guiding principle of the research, the ideal link between the foundation project of the Jewish National State in Palestine and the movements for the emancipation of the European peoples, inspired by the French Revolution and the battle for human rights. It was the very first time

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 252

since his return to Germany that Landshut addressed the matter of Israel, even though he had always expressed the greatest reservation on this issue.31 23 One year later, Landshut decided to visit the land, in which he had not set foot since 1945 and stayed there for several months. We cannot affirm if this journey was motivated only by personal reasons or if he saw it as an opportunity to get in contact again with the German-Jewish intellectual community. A few months later, in 1968, Landshut passed away in Hamburg as the political order was changing almost all the countries in the world, thus claiming a radical transformation in society.

Second part

24 In a recent article for the Neue Zürcher Zeitung, Jürgen Habermas 32 depicted a detailed portrait of the German-Jewish intelligentsia that had helped build a whole generation of young German intellectuals after the Second World War. Wanting to receive an answer to the questions of this historical fracture that had just been brought to an end within the European civilization, millions of students turned to the works of many German-Jewish intellectuals in order to find an answer to the questions that numbed the German culture.

25 With the precision and abundance of details that characterize his style, the German philosopher and sociologist provides an overview on the contribution that was made by those whom he calls “the generous ones who came back” to the recovery of an intellectual fabric torn by the Zivilisationsbruch when the “specifically German element of the Germanic culture and tradition” found itself unable to recover. Among the representatives of the Jewish-German culture, who, according to him, constitute more of a misalliance than a symbiosis, the author of the Theory of Communicative Action pays tribute to Ernst Cassirer, the devoted defender of the principles, rooted in the Spirit of the Enlightenment, of the Weimar democracy and ardent opponent of Heidegger’s anti- humanism. He refers to Edmund Husserl, the father of phenomenology, the brilliant and ruthless interpreter of the crisis of European sciences. He talks about the Skepsis of Karl Löwith who was a critic of every philosophy of history that pretended to be a science. Finally, he remembers Gershom Scholem, whose studies on mysticism revealed the authentic Jewish essence that was hidden in the destiny and German Jewish culture. 26 He also names the theoretical contribution of the School of Frankfurt – Adorno, just like Horkheimer, who came back from exile, Helmuth Plessner who made an essential contribution to the foundation of a new philosophical anthropology, Ernst Bloch, whose “expressionist Marxism” boosted the hopes of the first student movement of the Federal Republic of Germany. Habermas does not forget the theoretical contribution provided by the German-Jewish intellectuals to analytical philosophy and neither does he forget the crucial role played by the intellectual community that was dedicated to redesign the nature of politics after the European crisis. Among them were Hannah Arendt, Leo Strauss, Hans Jonas and Gunther Anders. 27 One would have expected him to mention the efforts made by Siegfried Landshut in the reorganization of the political science in Germany and in the spread of the cultural politics that would bring back together the individual and the public field after the trauma of the war. Yet, there is no trace of homage by Habermas to Landshut among the “generous ones who came back”. Missing from the contemporary German intelligentsia’s collective memory, this oversight proves to be a sad continuation of his

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 253

existential exile, especially after the publication of his biography. This is all the more surprising given that there was abundant information and detail on his intellectual and human path that was emblematic of that time. 28 Naturally, there are several reasons for this oversight regarding Landshut. The first one is obviously the retreat of his scientific activity and the impossibility of taking it up again a few years later. We have already stressed33 that Landshut’s personal history is at the crossroads of the German cultural and philosophical history, which itself is closely linked to the history of the Jewish-German emigration to America. Whereas the main wave of the Jewish intelligentsia found refuge in the United States and reestablished contacts with the scientific community of Europe, Landshut took refuge at first in Egypt and then in Palestine where he continued to write in German and Hebrew, yet in a discontinuous manner. Furthermore, we could also attribute his lack of recognition due to his return to Germany after having lived in Palestine, a matter that was considered to be a true taboo for the Jewish community of Israel.34 29 The rediscovery of Landshut and his tormented biography allowed the German public to face for the first time a distinctive profile of an intellectual who had disappeared from the collective memory. His name thus went beyond the strict framework of the disciplines of political science and sociology – even though his works were quoted quite often – in order to become the protagonist of an important cultural and human history in itself. The biography has thus allowed linking the different chapters of his theoretical making to a thread that combines the different phases of Landshut’s scientific activity under the notion of the “new foundation of the political science” in Germany. 30 This notion, which is key to understand Landshut’s works, is quite in keeping with his uninterrupted reflection on the metatema of politics; it might however obscure the numerous nuances of Landshut’s plural thinking and give the image of a philosopher whose sole purpose was to reestablish the corpus of the political science, dealing with the democratic regime after the Zivilisationsbruch. There is no doubt that his reflection constantly centered around politics, its variations and its aporetic excesses, around the political thought during classical times to modernity, but it is also true that there are significant differences between his writings during the 1920’s and those after the War, in terms of the object of his studies, the method employed and the language used. 31 If Landshut and some of his colleagues from Hamburg, the city of bankers and ship- owners,35 worked on and contributed to the revival of the political science since the 1950’s during a time when “political education” was distrusted, it is also true that for the first time, Landshut was able to focus on the teaching of “politics” with great independence and in an institutional academic system. The political commitment had had quite a different significance in the 1920’s when the Weimar intelligentsia had been paralyzed by the crisis of the century that revealed the flaws of the political thought in order to answer the urgent needs dictated by the current events. 32 Being apolitical was typical of that period, for which the German Wilhelmine intellectuals had to pay the price because of their incompetence to think about the crisis that swept across Europe in a political manner. The German intelligentsia treated the country’s first liberal and democratic experience with continuous suspicion, a suspicion that was enhanced by the general indifference for the destiny of society as a whole. This attitude was quite widespread among the young intellectuals of that time who were not really interested in the political events of the century and were likely to find an answer to the “daily task”, which Max Weber mentioned during the Munich

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 254

conference in regard to science as a profession, in other disciplines, especially in philosophy, literature and poetry.36 33 This mistrust toward politics exercised a polarization effect: on the one hand, it saw how most intellectuals sought refuge in the private field and on the other hand, it favored the irresistible rise of the political myth and of irrationality. “The retreat from the public field, meaning from politics occurred only later – under the yoke of the total domination, dictatorship and persecution […]. We have not learned politics thanks to Jaspers but, much later, thanks to Hitler”,37 proclaimed Dolf Steinberger, another witness of this troubled period and just as Landshut, a founding member of the political science field in the Federal Republic of Germany. Karl Löwith spoke along the same lines and decided to study in Freiburg in order to move away from the chaos of the Munich Soviet Republic. His autobiography gave him the opportunity to express his non-political stand.38 34 The spiritual profile of the time helps us understand Landshut’s intellectual itinerary. During the “Roaring Twenties”, unlike his research colleagues, Landshut took the time to study the fundamental concepts of politics and the nature of their contradictions. Landshut focused on the origins of the German crisis, a crisis that threatened the very spirit of European conscience, while reflecting on the connections between politics and power in order to avoid using the two terms as synonyms. While philosophy seemed to be imprisoned in its egotism, confirmed by the cogito ergo sum at the beginning of modern times, Landshut was one of the rare Weimar intellectuals to implement a critical pronouncement on the relations among people, in the Mitmenschlichkeit, in order to ponder on the solutions to the crisis of his time. 35 The theme of otherness imposed itself on the German philosophical debate during those years: Martin Buber put the relationship of “I and Thou” at the center of the intersubjective field within the community messianism of the Jewish tradition.39 Karl Löwith elaborated on an anthropology of the “man-person” with the theoretical tools of phenomenology.40 Landshut rediscovered the strictly political nature of living together and inaugurated a tradition of thought rooted in Aristotle’s philosophy in order not to turn modern politics into the mere alternative of technical nature and decision making. While Buber and Löwith developed their concept of Mitmenschlichkeit, one in the realm of theological thinking, the other within the ethical domain, Landshut favored a truly political dimension, where mankind abandoned the res intima in order to fully become the political animal, a human being as “politician”. 36 “The more I made progress in my work, the more I foresaw clearly this framework, which I really felt was mine: the discovery of the reasons that really function, which dominate the orders of Miteinanderleben and their historical conditions, in order to find out if from here on it will be possible to find an access to today’s problems in a way sufficiently wide-ranging.”41 The orders of Miteinanderleben, its historical principles and its aporeia are the guideline of Landshut’s work and are characteristic of his criticism against politics. Yet, his view of politics cannot be seen as a concept. Landshut never envisioned the existence of a “truth” in politics, of an essence or of a transcendent dimension at the root of an authentically political logos. Politics rather act in the living together because the human being is a zoon politikon. That very conceptual articulation of politics is emphasized in Landshut’s work with his definition of Miteinanderleben, which sheds light on the meaning of living together.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 255

37 So what does Miteinanderleben in Landshut’s paradigm of hermeneutics mean? Can we give it one interpretation? Because of the asystematicity and, to a certain extent, because of the eclecticism of his work, it is difficult to give a positive answer to the second question, as the many meanings given to the “living together” by our author makes us wonder if everything has been said about his intellectual profile. This same concept of “living together” is subjected to more than just a semantic distortion in the development of the author’s thinking. Thus, it is better to begin by briefly examining a few passages of Landshut’s first analysis devoted to the fundamental concepts of politics, an analysis judged by Hennis as the birth certificate of political science in Germany. 38 “The simul vivere – writes Landshut when he cites Thomas Aquinas – is the main theme of all discussions on the nature of politics, those that always relate to the regimen. It is specific to the people ‘living together’ [zusammenlebenden Menschen] to focus mainly on what really constitutes the coexistence [das Zusammenleben] […], meaning a finis that corresponds exactly to the ‘together’ […] This finis, the true bonum moltitudinis, constitutes its unity. This unitas is the very own essence of coexistence, so that it becomes a ‘living with each other’ [Miteinanderleben]. This ‘with each other’ [Miteinander] – he states – does not indicate a ‘social link’ or something else [ein dinghaftes Etwas] but the manner and shape of the coexistence-together-with the others [mit-anderen-Zusammenlebens]”.42 39 In this quotation, which summarizes quickly and effectively the theoretical objective of his research, Landshut assigns a clearly identified objective to politics: not power, force, technique but the simul vivere, the living together, the coexistence, the “living- with-each-other”. The human being is a political naturaliter while the isolated individual, who lives outside of the polis, of the human community, of the sphere of coexistence, as Aristotle states, is an animal or a god.43 The nature of living together lies in its unity which as the same time is its finis. 40 While examining a few “fundamental concepts of politics”, which include the Nation, the State, the public opinion, Landshut explains more precisely the significance of this research: “The main interest that guides this work is not the State nor a similar concept but it is the people who live together, with each other, and for whom the State exists as a reference of coexistence for each other”.44 The State is thus built on condition that it preserves the fact of living together but this is not the founding moment of coexistence. For Landshut, the unity among human beings is actually neither an externally imposed link nor a “social” contract among individuals or between individuals and a Leviathan. He doesn’t consider politics to be an instrumental relationship based on the means-end analysis nor a technical system that ensures a balance of forces represented by competing social interests. 41 Politics is rather the field of human relations that are never defined once and for all and always require a new definition: the continued search of the common good on the part of the individual who is engaged in a collective context is what makes a human being a zoon politikon. Even if Landshut talks of an introduction to the fundamental concepts of politics, he already explains his final goal: to try and reword the binomial logos-demos, which the crisis of the European conscience had dissolved by opening the door of irrationality to politics. At the same time, he also tries to define the nature of the “demos”, on which there is a political thought: in Landshut’s first writings after the philosophical experience of his life in Freiburg with Husserl and Heidegger, where the

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 256

human world was fundamentally defined as a “common world” [Mitwelt] and then as a Mitmenschlichkeit,45 politics can only be understood in the light of encountering the other. 42 His tone on the subject of politics is quite different during the period after the war. The emphasis that the young Landshut puts on the intersubjective dimension in his writings changes in the “form” of peaceful coexistence as the thinker matures. Landshut’s definition of politics in his Evangelisches Kirchenlexikon is in this regard quite meaningful: “The political community, the object of politics, corresponds to the community of life, meaning a reciprocal belonging that joins the entire existence of its associates […]. The unity of the community is based on the universal link of a concrete concept of the conduct of life, of an ethos that steers the community […] that shows the respect for every one of its members – whoever this person might be – the concept that corresponds to the unity of the collective entity [Gemeinwesen] is transcendent”.46 The concept of the [Gemeinwesen] thus logically precedes the historical and concrete existence of the political community that gains its unity from this ethos that seems to be, in this case, a given. Whereas the fundamental concepts of politics stem from the Miteinanderleben in his writings dating from the 1920’s, the account is reversed thirty years later when the community becomes a function of this ethos that governs and transcends it. 43 Within the limited scope of this article, it is difficult to further develop the reflection on his concept of the unique ethos in relation to the plurality of the notion of “living with the others”, whose elements are “changeable and dynamic”.47 We can recognize the impact of this semantic shift more clearly in his essay of 1969: “The constitution is the order [Status] given in a collective political entity [Gemeinwesen]. There is no Gemeinwesen without a political constitution, meaning without institutions, rules and without specific relations that favor unity and the continued consistency of the collective existence. […] The constitution and the political Gemeinwesen define the very same thing”.48 Thus, it is not the Miteinander-Zusammenleben anymore that determines the field of politics but the fundamental law of the State that coincides almost totally with this collective entity that constitutes coexistence. 44 After the omnipresence of the interpersonal sphere in Landshut’s works written in his youth, we are thus able to find in his thoughts the transcendent power of the Constitution, meaning the link that leads again to the unity of the plurality of living together. We can probably find the reasons for this theoretical turning point in the political context of the Federal Republic of Germany where all disciplines, and especially political science, were influenced by the necessity to establish a new democratic order. However, Landshut cannot help but reflect on and wonder about the role played by the instersubjective dimension in his work. 45 If we look at Landshut’s work as his contribution to the foundation of political science, the Miteinander-Zusammenleben – the founding concept and main theme of Landshut’s first writings – is reduced to a concept in progress, shaped by the language of existential analytics. If, however, we examine the central theme of his work, its theoretical contribution to the politics of “living together” and its contradictions, we devote the same attention to the different steps of his work and it is then quite possible to approach critically certain passages of his thought in order to put to the test its hermeneutic potential.49 This kind of interpretation seems to be confirmed by the essays and articles – rare, discontinued, distinct – written by Landshut during his exile.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 257

When looking at Landshut’s essay about Landauer’s revolution, at his philosophical and sociological analysis of the Kibbutz, or even at the article on the perspectives of a new Aliyah in Palestine from a retrospective view of Landhsut as the founder of political science, his exile – from a mere scientific point of view – seems to be a prolonged interruption of his work. This is not the case if we see the Miteinander-Zusammenleben as a key that helps us interpret the politics and their historical and conceptual aporeia. The essay about Landauer thus seems to be a critical reflection on the ways by which the person is connected with the community and on the concept of the revolution as a continued historical process. 46 The analysis on the Kibbutz thus turns out to be a study on the risks for the Miteinanderleben of the Kibbutzim caused by their increasing isolation from the surrounding world and by the disappearance of the ethos, replaced by the complex rules and regulations that are to be followed by the entire community. The article about the Aliyah reaches pessimistic conclusions on the efficacy of external factors (in this case, the growing wave of anti-Semitism in Europe) on the foundation of a Miteinander and of its ideal core. What matters most to Landshut, here as well as in his previous and future writings, is to firmly place the fundamental issue of the conditions of coexistence, of the common world, of the life together, of “living with each other” at the heart of the discussion: in short, the issue of men and women involved in coexistence within a public space, which, according to Landshut, was increasingly abandoned to the contradictions of modernity while no political thought was shaped in order to tackle these extraordinary times and fight its contradictions. 47 In this sense, we can confirm that the papers written during his time in Palestine have a central role: the critical reflection on the concepts of politics gives here a theoretical answer to the needs that were dictated by the reality of a community in formation. Landshut observes the different steps of this process in the field, just like his colleagues Martin Buber, Ernst Simon, Georg Landauer did. Yet, compared to them, Landshut’s intellectual making during this period has largely been forgotten: when he started teaching again after returning to Germany, he never mentioned it, neither directly or indirectly. Nevertheless, it is precisely this silence that invites us to think about the scope of the considerations he developed then and to revisit the criticism of his thoughts that he elaborated during that time. By looking at Landshut’s thoughts on the circumstances of the Miteinander-Zusammenleben, it would be interesting to study whether some decisive elements are hidden in this discontinued and sometimes even contradictory thought in order to develop, today, a genuine theory of democracy when the call for the “greater good” and “living together” in the political field can be increasingly heard.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Aristote s.d. Politica, 1253a 29

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 258

Buber, Martin 1923 Ich und Du, Gerlingen 1974.

Diner, Dan (ed.) 1988 Zivilisationsbruch: Denken nach Auschwitz, Frankfurt a.M.

Duverger, Maurice 1959 Die politische Parteien, ed. et traduit par Siegfried Landshut (Veröffentlichungen der Akademie für Gemeinwirtschaft Hamburg), Tübingen.

Fiorletta, Elena 2005a “Siegfried Landshut tra passato e futuro. Intervista ad Angelo Bolaffi”, in http:// www.giornaledifilosofia.net/public/scheda.php?id=33, dernier accès le 10.12.2012. 2005b “Er war ein Perspektivenöffner auf die Moderne. Interview mit Martin Sattler”, in http://www.giornaledifilosofia.net/public/scheda.php?id=32, dernier accès le 10.12.2012.

Habermas, Jürgen 2011 “Grossherzige Remigranten. Über jüdische Philosophen in der frühen Bundesrepublik. Eine persönliche Erinnerung”, in Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 2.7.2011.

Hennis, Wilhelm 1970 “Zu Siegfried Landshuts wissenschaftlichem Werk”, in Zeitschrift für Politik, 17 (1970), c. I, pp. 1-14 (Ibidem, Wilhelm Hennis, Politik und praktische Philosophie. Schriften zur politischen Theorie, Stuttgart 1977, pp. 275-293)

Kessel, Wolfgang 2000 Das politische Gemeinwesen, in R. Nicolaysen (ed.), Polis und Moderne. Siegfried Landshut in Heutiger Sicht, Berlin-Hamburg 2000, pp. 81-93.

Krauss, Marita 2004 “Jewish Remigration: an Overview of an Emerging Discipline”, in LBI Year Book, vol. 49 (2004).

Krohn, Claus-Dieter 1993 Intellectuals in Exile, Refugee Scholars and the New School for Social Research, University of Massachusetts Press.

Landshut, Siegfried 1925 Über einige Grundbegriffe der Politik, in Ibidem, Politik. Grundbegriffe und Analyse Leipzig (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit.) 1926 “Eine Frage europäischer Politik”, Die Gesellschaft, 3 (1926), vol. II. 1929 Kritik der Soziologie. Freiheit und Gleichheit als Usprungsproblem der Soziologie, München- Leipzig (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., pp. 43-188). 1931 “Max Webers geistgeschichtliche Bedeutung”, Neue Jahrbücher für Wissenschaft und Jugendbildung, 7 (1931), pp. 507-516 (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., vol. II, pp. 539-555). 1931 “Marx redivivus”, Neue Blatter für den Sozialismus, 2 (1931), pp. 611-617. 1932 Der Begriff des Ökonomischen. Einige Kapitel aus einer historisch-analytischen Untersuchung über den Bedeutungswandel des Begriffs des Ökonomischen, dans Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., vol. I, pp. 189-290. 1934 “La crise et la politique monétaire de Président Roosevelt”, in L’Egypte Contemporaine. Revue de la Société Royale d’Economie Politique de Statistique et de Législation [Le Caire], 25. Année,

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 259

n. 148-149 (Mars-Avril 1934), pp. 501-517. 1934 “Les grandes problèmes sociaux de notre époque”, in L’Egypte Contemporaine. Revue de la Société Royale d’Economie Politique de Statistique et de Législation [Le Caire], 25. Année, n. 150 (Mai 1934), pp. 501-517. 1939 La révolution sociale dans la conception de Landauer, Centre culturel du Histadrut (ed.) Gustav Landauer. Au vingtième anniversaire de son assassinat, Tel Aviv 1939, pp. 44-57 (en hébreu). 1941 À la fin d’un siècle (1840-1940), dans Berl Katznelson (Ed.), Ba-kur, 1. Edition, Tel Aviv 1941, pp. 58-67 (en hébreu). 1944a Landshut, Kibboutz (Bibliothèque Sioniste 4), Jerusalem 1944 (en hébreu), 2. Edition par Yad Tabenkin, Research and Documentation Center of the United Kibbutz Movement, avec une introduction de Gideon M. Kressel, Ramat Efal 2000. Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., 2 vol., pp. 770-977. 1944b “Réflexions sur l’Alija”, Beajot [Problèmes], année 1, cahier I (avril 1944), pp. 152-157. 1945 “L’essence de la société moderne selon Karl Marx et Max Weber”, in Iyyun [Réflexions], vol. I, cahier I (Octobre 1945), pp. 102-125 [en hébreu] (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., pp. 608-653). 1950 Jewish communities in the Muslim Countries of the Middle East. A survey, pour The American- Jewish Committee and the Anglo Jewish Association, édité par le Jewish Chronicle, London. 1959 “Politik”, dans Evangeliche Kirchenlexikon. Kirchlichtheologisches Handwörterbuch, Heinz Brunotte et Otto Weber (eds.), vol. 3 (P-Z), Göttingen 1959, pp. 248-250 (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., pp. 294-295). 1969 “Verfassung”, Première publication du Wörterbuch der Soziologie, Wilhelm Bernsdorf (ed.), deuxième édition, Stuttgart 1969, pp. 1230-1233 (Ibidem, Politik, op. cit., p. 397). 2004 Politik. Grundbegriffe und Analyse, ed. par R. Nicolaysen, Berlin-Brandeburg.

Löwith, Karl 1928 Das Individuum in der Rolle des Mitmenschen, Stuttgart 1981-1988. 1986 Ma vie en Allemagne avant et après 1933 : récit, Paris 1988.

Nicolaysen, Rainer 1997 Die Wiederentdeckung der Politik. Eine Biographie, Frankfurt a.M.

Riedel, Manfred 1972 Die Rehabilitierung der praktischen Philosophie, Freiburg.

Weber, Max 1919 Wissenschaft als Beruf, W. J. Mommsen (ed.), Max Weber Gesamtausgabe, vol. 17, Tübigen 1992.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 260

NOTES

1. Letter from Siegfried Landshut to Fritz Warburg, 29.2.1936, in Rainer Nicolaysen, Die Wiederentdeckung der Politik. Eine Biographie, Frankfurt a.M. 1997, p. 218. The information on Landshut’s life is based on this research monograph. 2. The definition is by the historian Dan Diner. Ibidem (ed.), Zivilisationsbruch: Denken nach Auschwitz, Frankfurt/M. 1988. 3. For more information, please see his curriculum vitae, which he himself wrote in 1928. See Nicolaysen, cit., p. 31. 4. Ibid. 5. Siegfried Landshut, Über einige Grundbegriffe der Politik, in Ibidem, Politik. Grundbegriffe und Analyse, ed. by R. Nicolaysen, Berlin-Brandeburg 2004, pp. 327-386. 6. Wilhelm Hennis, “Zu Siegfried Landshuts wissenschaftlichem Werk”, in Zeitschrift für Politik, 17 (1970), c. I, pp. 1-14, here p. 4; now also in Wilhelm Hennis, Politik und praktische Philosophie. Schriften zur politischen Theorie, Stuttgart 1977, pp. 275-293, here p. 279. 7. This issue is quite disputed by historians, see Nicolaysen, p. 65. 8. Ibid., p. 81. 9. Ibid., p. 77. 10. Landshut, “Eine Frage europäischer Politik”, Die Gesellschaft, 3 (1926), Vol. II. 11. Landshut, Kritik der Soziologie. Freiheit und Gleichheit als Ursprungsproblem der Soziologie, München-Leipzig 1929, now in Ibidem, Politik, cit., pp. 43-188. See also Ibidem, “Max Webers geistgeschichtliche Bedeutung”, Neue Jahrbücher für Wissenschaft und Jugendbildung, 7 (1931), pp. 507-516, now also in Ibidem, Politik, cit., Vol. II, pp. 539-555. 12. Landshut, “Marx redivivus”, Neue Blätter für den Sozialismus, 2 (1931), pp. 611-617. 13. Karl Marx, Der historische Materialismus. Die Frühschriften, 2 Vol. Ed. by Siegfried Landshut and Jacob Peter Meyer, together with Friedrich Salomon (Kröners pocket-sized editions 91 et 92), Leipzig 1932. 14. Landshut, Der Begriff des Ökonomischen. Einige Kapitel aus einer historisch-analytischen Untersuchung über den Bedeutungswandel des Begriffs des Ökonomischen, now also in Ibidem, Politik, cit., Vol. I, pp. 189-290. 15. Landshut, “The crisis and monetary politics of President Roosevelt”, in Contemporary Egypt. Magazine of the Royal Society of Political Economic, Statistics and Legislation [Cairo], 25. N. 148-149 (March-April 1934), pp. 501-517. Ibidem, “The great social problems of our era” in Contemporary Egypt. Magazine of the Royal Society of Political Economic, Statistics and Legislation [Cairo], 25. N. 150 (May 1934), pp. 501-517. 16. Nicolaysen, cit., p. 498. 17. In a letter to Bernhard Kahn, at that time Director of the European Office of the American Joint Distribution Committee, Landshut explains the reasons that inspire his research: “I think that if a scientific reflection can still be taken on, then the task of clarifying the historical sociological point of view on the Jewish destiny in the modern world should be the task that a Jewish sociologist should do today”. Nicolaysen, p. 208. 18. Ibid., p. 220. 19. Ibid., p. 503. 20. Landshut, The Social Revolution in Landauer’s Concept, Cultural Center of the Histadrut (ed.) Gustav Landauer. At the twentieth anniversary of his assassination, Tel Aviv 1939, pp. 44-57 (in Hebrew). 21. Landshut, At the End of a Century (1840-1940), in Berl Katznelson (Ed.), Ba-kur, 1. Edition, Tel Aviv 1941, pp. 58-67 (in Hebrew).

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 261

22. Landshut, Kibbutz (Zionist Library 4), Jerusalem 1944 (in Hebrew), 2. Edition by Ya Tabenkin, Research and Documentation Center of the United Kibbutz Movement, with an introduction by Gideon M. Kressel, Ramat Efal 2000. Now also in Ibidem, Politik, cit., 2 Vol., pp. 770-977. 23. Landshut, “Reflections on Aliyah”, Beajot [Problems], Year 1, Journal I (April 1944), pp. 152-157. 24. Landshut, “The essence of the modern society according to Karl Marx and Max Weber”, in Iyyun [Reflections], Vol. I, Journal I (October 1945), pp. 102-125 [in Hebrew]. Now also in Ibidem, Politik, cit., pp. 608-653. 25. Landshut, Jewish communities in the Muslim Countries of the Middle East. A survey, for The American-Jewish Committee and the Anglo Jewish Association, edited by the Jewish Chronicle, London 1950. 26. Cf. Claus-Dieter Krohn, Intellectuals in Exile, Refugee Scholars and the New School for Social Research, University of Massachusetts Press, 1993, p. 199. 27. Alexis de Tocqueville, Das Zeitalter der Gleichheit. Eine Auswahl aus dem Gesamtwerk, ed. by Siegfried Landshut (Kröners pocket book edition 221), Stuttgart 1954. 2. Edition 1967. 28. Nicolaysen, cit., p. 366. 29. Herman Finer, Der moderne Staat. Theorie und Praxis, ed. and translated by Siegfried Landshut, Vol. I Grundlage (Internationale Sozialwissenschaftliche Bibliothek) Stuttgart-Düsseldorf 1957, Vol. II and III (Veröffentlichungen der Akademie für Gemeinwirtschaft Hamburg), Stuttgart- Düsseldorf 1958. 30. Maurice Duverger, Die politischen Parteien, ed. and translated by Siegfried Landshut (Veröffentlichungen der Akademie für Gemeinwirtschaft Hamburg), Tübingen 1959. 31. According to Nicolaysen, Landshut asked his friend Daniel Dishon in Jerusalem at the beginning of the 60’s to send him literature on the Kibbutz in order to resume his study on the “community establishments” but it is not known if he really pursued the development of the new studies. Cf. Nicolaysen, op. cit., p. 427 and 559. 32. Jürgen Habermas, “Großherzige Remigranten. Über jüdische Philosophen in der frühen Bundesrepublik. Eine persönliche Erinnerung”, in Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 2.7.2011. 33. Cf. E. Fiorletta, “Siegfried Landshut tra passato e futuro. Intervista ad Angelo Bolaffi”, in http://www.giornaledifilosofia.net/public/scheda.php?id=33, last access on 10/12/2012. 34. Marita Krauss, “Jewish Remigration: an Overview of an Emerging Discipline”, in LBI Year Book, Vol. 49 (2004), p. 111. 35. Cf. E. Fiorletta, “Er war ein Perspektivenöffner auf die Moderne. Interview mit Martin Sattler”, in http://www.giornaledifilosofia.net/public/scheda.php?id=32, last access on 10/12/2012. 36. Max Weber, Wissenschaft als Beruf, W. J. Mommsen (ed.), Max Weber Gesamtausgabe, Bol. 17, Tübigen 1992, p. 46. 37. Cf. D. Sternberger, Gang zwischen Meistern, Frankfurt am Main 1987. 38. Cf. Karl Löwith, Ma vie en Allemagne avant et après 1933: récit, Paris 1988. 39. Martin Buber, Ich und Du (1923), Gerlingen 1974. 40. Karl Löwith, Das Individuum in der Rolle des Mitmenschen (1928), Stuttgart 1981-1988. 41. From CV, Landshut, cf. Nicolaysen, pp. 64-65. 42. Landshut, Über einige Grundbegriffe der Politik, cit., p. 327. 43. Aristotle, Politica , 1253a 29. What is remarkable is Landshut’s reference to the political Arestitolianism that also contributed to Hannah Arendt’s thoughts and to the entire German tradition of studies known as the rehabilitation of practical philosophy. Cf. Manfred Riedel, Die Rehabilitierung der praktischen Philosophie, Freiburg 1972. 44. Landshut, Über einige Grundbegriffe der Politik, cit., p. 328. 45. Besides the philosophers that have already been mentioned, such as Buber and Löwith, we should also recall Hermann Cohen, Die Religion der Vernunft aus den Quellen des Judentums (1919);

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 262

Franz Rosenzweig, Der Stern der Erlösung (1921); Max Scheler, Wesen und Formen der Sympathie (1923). 46. Landshut, “Politik”, in Evangelisches Kirchenlexikon. Kirchlich-Theologisches Handwörterbuch, Heinz Brunotte and Otto Weber (eds.), Vol. 3 (P-Z), Göttingen 1959, pp. 248-250. Now Ibidem, Politik, cit., pp. 294-295. 47. Landshut, Über einige Grundbegriffe der Politik, cit., p. 328. 48. Landshut, “Verfassung”, First publication of the Wörterbuch der Soziologie, Wilhelm Bernsdorf (ed.), Second Edition, Stuttgart 1969, pp. 1230-1233, now Landshut, Politik, cit., p. 397. 49. Wolfgang Kessel perfectly understood the main role of the idea of the political community in Landshut’s thoughts. Cf. Kessel, Das politische Gemeinwesen, in R. Nicolaysen (ed.), Polis und Moderne. Siegfried Landshut in Heutiger Sicht, Berlin-Hamburg 2000, pp. 81-93.

AUTHORS

ELENA FIORLETTA

Elena Fiorletta earned her degree in Philosophy (magna cum laude) from the University of Rome La Sapienza. In 2009, she earned her PhD in Contemporary Social Philosophies and Theories from the University of Bari. Her thesis, entitled “Economia, politica, società. Il contributo di Siegfried Landshut a un’analisi del moderno” aims to reconstruct three key moments of the first phase of the philosophical thought of this still unknown Jewish-German author. She carried out her research in Germany at the universities of Heidelberg, Frankfurt and Hamburg. In 2012, she completed her postdoctoral studies at the Franz Rosenzweig Research Center of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. Currently, she is a Bettencourt Schueller Research Fellow at the French Research Center in Jerusalem (CRFJ), with a project on the concept of Gemeinwesen in Landshut’s philosophical work. She contributes to the CRFJ research program on religious identities in Israel today.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 263

The Israeli Circassians: non-Arab Arabs

Eleonore Merza Translation : Judith Grumbach

One day, I was at the tahana merkazit [central bus station] in Jerusalem with Mussa and we went through the metal detector. They let him go through but when it was my turn, they asked for my identity card. They saw that we kept talking together so they asked for his I.D. too. He is a redhead and has blue eyes so they thought he was Ashkenazi. But they saw his name ‘Musa’ – that sounds quite Arabic and they asked him if he was Arab, but then his family name doesn’t sound Arabic at all so he explained that he was Circassian. Then, they asked him what religion he was and he said ‘Muslim’. They were dumbfounded…1 1 The 4,500-odd Israeli Circassians, who arrived during the second half of the 20th century in what was then part of the Ottoman Empire, have an unusual identity: they are Israelis without being Jews and they are Muslims but aren’t Palestinian Arabs (they are Caucasians). Little known by the Israeli public, the members of this inconspicuous minority often experience situations like the one reported above; indeed, many of them have a fair complexion and light-colored eyes that don’t match the widely spread (and expected) clichés about Muslims’ physical traits. At the same time, many Circassians – men, in particular – bear a Muslim name, which immediately causes them to be classified as “Arabs.”

2 Until 1948, the Zionist project’s exclusive aim was the establishment of a Jewish state – not the establishment of a state where Jews could finally live far from the anti-Semitic threat. In The Jewish State, Theodor Herzl had already stated that “the nations in whose midst Jews live are all either covertly or openly Anti-Semitic”2 and the establishment of a Jewish state was the future as Zionism saw it. In fact, when the State of Israel was declared, it was defined as the state of the Jewish people, inheritor of the Biblical land of Israel and of the kingdom of Judah. This exclusive definition has made the creation of citizenship categories quite arduous. Actually, some figures of Zionism opposed Herzl’s political Zionism even before the creation of the state. One of them was Asher Hirsch Ginsberg, better known under his pen name Ahad Ha’am. Even though Ahadd Ha’am received the Zionist circles’ moral support, he was convinced that the future

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 264

state could not ingather all the Jews and he fought Herzl’s political Zionism. After his visits in Palestine, the author wrote down his impressions and criticized the functioning of settlements. In his essay Emet me-Eretz Yisrael [A Truth from Eretz Yisrael], he denounced the myth of the virgin land conveyed by the Zionist leaders and reminded them that their analysis did not take into account the Arabs: 3 From abroad, we are accustomed to believe that Eretz Israel is presently almost totally desolate, an uncultivated desert, and that anyone wishing to buy a land there can come and buy all he wants. But in truth it is not so. In the entire land, it is hard to find tillable land that is not already tilled […] We are accustomed to believing that Arabs are all desert savages, like donkeys who do not see or understand what is going on around them. This is a serious mistake.3 4 Indeed, the Zionist political program did not define the status of the minorities in the Jewish state as it was envisioned and would not do so after reaching its goal in 1948. In fact, after the War of Independence, the various political texts did not analyze the “Arab problem” (habayyah haAravit): four-fifth of the Palestinians had fled or had been expelled; and nobody thought the remaining minority could become a problem: the few Palestinians who had remained in the territory were perceived as numerically insignificant and would probably opt for emigration; if not, they would be encouraged to leave and settle in neighboring countries.4 5 This rhetoric has somehow made the minorities even more “minor”; it has also affected the contemporary Israeli society, which finds it difficult to distinguish between the various groups and to identify their specificities. But the public opinion merely adopts the categories created by the state and is therefore rather ignorant of the non-Jewish groups living in Israel. 6 On May 16, 1948, Haim Weizmann, the first President of the State of Israel was sworn in; he then declared: I want all the Arab citizens of Israel to clearly understand that whether they are Christian, Muslim, Druze, Bedouin, or Circassian, the presidential residence is open to each one of them. The President’s official residence is the house of all citizens.5

Non-Arab Arabs

7 In the case of the Israeli Circassians, the categories defined and used for the census in 2010 are problematic. The Central Bureau of Statistics (CBS) classifies the population following two variables. In 2009, the Israeli population was divided into three categories: “Jews,” “Arabs,” and “Others”; until 1995, the second and the third categories were merged. The Circassians are neither Jews nor Palestinian Arabs. They are Israelis and Muslims but these two denominations have never been meant to go together. The “Others” category includes some of the Russian immigrants (not all) that are not considered authentic Jews according to the religious law; it also includes foreign workers, and in some documents, it also includes Druze and Circassians. The second variable used by the CBS is religion; there are four groups: “Jews,” “Muslims,” “Christians,” and “Druze.” In that case, the Circassians are classified – and rightly so – as “Muslims.” In certain administrative documents, however, or for “practical” reasons, the Circassians are included in the Druze minority. This “Circassian-Druze” group is sometimes viewed as a distinct homogenous group and at other times, it is also included in the dominant “Arab” category.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 265

8 In May 2004, Henia Markovitch made a report to the Civil Service Commission about the professionalization of Non-Jews. The very title of her report – “The Fair Representation of Arabs including Druze and Circassians in the Civil Service 2003”6 – was problematic. Chen Bram, the only Israeli anthropologist who has studied the Circassian community in the country and gave reports on their situation to the government, wrote: “Like most Israeli Arabs, they are Sunni Muslims, but they describe themselves as a separate community, distinct from the other Sunnis in Israel, and are recognized as such.”7 Actually, if the Circassians make a point of emphasizing their difference, they don’t refer to their religion – as the Druze do. On the contrary, while they fully identify themselves as Muslims, they insist on their ethno-cultural characteristic: they are neither Arabs nor Palestinians, they are Circassians and Caucasians. When I met Yoav Stern, a journalist for the Haaretz daily newspaper who has written several articles on the Circassian community, he gave me his business card. It read that he worked for the office of “Arab Affairs.” Along with a few other journalists of Haaretz, he has authored most of the articles about non-Jewish minorities. These articles clearly distinguish between the various minorities but the leftist newspaper itself considers them all “Arabs.” In fact, the aforementioned journalists have difficulties calling the Circassians – like all other non-Jewish Muslim minorities – anything but Arabs. As for the various communities of interests – the State of Israel or Palestinian nationalists – they classify the Circassians as Arabs or non-Arabs, at their convenience. 9 Several webpages about Israeli society, intended for tourists and diplomats, can be found on the website of the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. One of these webpages presents Israel as “a mosaic made up of different population groups coexisting in the framework of a democratic state.” The brief overview of the various populations which make up Israeli society is introduced as such: “Some 1.8 million people, comprising some 24 percent of Israel’s population, are non-Jews. Although defined collectively as Arab citizens of Israel, they include a number of different, primarily Arabic-speaking, groups, each with distinct characteristics.” The document’s first paragraph focuses on the “Muslim Arabs,” the second paragraph is on “Bedouin Arabs” – who are Muslims –, the third paragraph presents “Christian Arabs,” while the fourth paragraph has to do with the Druze and the fifth one talks about the Circassians, who are described as follows: The Circassians, comprising some 4,000 people concentrated in two northern villages, are Sunni Muslims, although they share neither the Arab origin nor the cultural background of the larger Islamic community. While maintaining a distinct ethnic identity, they participate in Israel’s economic and national affairs without assimilating either into Jewish society or into the Muslim community.8 10 These few lines shed light on two major problems of categorization in the official rhetoric. The first one is the segmentation of the Palestinian group (called “Israeli Arabs,” in this document) and the second one is the inclusion of the Circassians in the “Arab” category. Even though the webpage does state that they don’t share the Arab origin of the larger Islamic community, speaking of the “culture” of the “Muslim community” is problematic. Saying that the Circassians claim a culture that differs from that of the “Palestinians” or that of the “Israeli Arabs” – to quote the terms officially used by the state – would have been justified. Indeed, the Circassians don’t pretend to have a culture similar to that of the Muslim Palestinians, neither do they share the cultural background of the Christian Palestinians. They do, however, follow

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 266

the same Islam as the country’s Muslim community. Another surprising point is that the Circassians are mentioned and are officially recognized as a distinct group, and that this minority is listed on the website just like other larger groups, while the Circassian population only totals about 4,500 individuals.

The Israeli jurisdiction mixes up the notions of religion, nationality, and citizenship

11 In Hebrew, the word “leom” literally means “nation” and it is often translated as “ethnicity.” This word is the official term by which the Ministry of the Interior classifies all Israeli citizens. The Israeli citizenship per se does not exist; in a state which is ethnically defined and conceived as a Jewish “nation,” the notions of religion, nationality, and citizenship merge. The forms on the Ministry of the Interior’s website list a hundred and twenty leomim. Among them we find a hundred and sixteen nationalities – from Abkhazian to Yugoslavian – most of which are related to actual countries. Obsolete nationalities such as East or West-German are still listed, as well as the mysterious “Hebrew” nationality. These nationalities mostly represent the countries of origin of the Jews who now live in Israel. Five leomim, defined according to other criteria, are also listed: “Arab,” “Jew,” “Druze,” “Bedouin,” and “Circassian” – those are larger transnational groups. Up until 2005, these leomim were mentioned on the Israeli national identity cards (teudat zehut). The teudat zehut is made of two separate documents that have to be shown together. The first document is the identity card itself; it bears a registration number, the holder’s last name, the first name, the father’s and mother’s first names, the holder’s date and place of birth, the leom (until 2005), the gender, the place and date of issuance (according to the civil and the Hebrew calendars), as well as a color picture of the ID holder. Before 2005, the identity card mentioned the holder’s leom but the Supreme Court ruled that it had to be removed because it could lead one to make a distinction between Jewish and non-Jewish citizens and discriminate against the citizens classified as “Arabs,” in particular. It should be noted that the Circassians did not welcome the removal of the leom category on the identity card: indeed, that information allowed them to be officially identified as non- Palestinians. It is true that the leom reference on the card could possibly lead to discriminatory reactions during security checks, but even without it, other elements on that card have remained that easily reveal whether the card holder is a Jew or a non- Jew. The ID holders’ culture can often be identified by their last names, their first names, and those of their parents; besides, the cards of the Israeli citizens who are Jewish mention their date of birth according to the Jewish calendar, in addition to their date of birth in the civil calendar as it appears on everyone’s card. In 2007, the Knesset voted an amendment stating that a Jewish citizen may ask to have their Hebrew date of birth removed from the identity card but in practice, except for a few militants, almost no Israeli wishes to distinguish him/herself or even thinks that this information may be problematic. The Israeli Circassians’ identity card doesn’t differentiate them from the larger “non-Jewish” group. The second document in the identity card includes the registration number, the holder’s current address, former addresses, maiden names (in the case of women), citizenship (which therefore appears in fine), as well as the names and ID numbers of the holder’s spouse and children.

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 267

12 In Israel’s nationality law, the words “nationality” and “citizenship” are used indifferently. The law reads that nationality applies to individuals who were born in Israel or who reside in the country and that citizenship can be acquired by birth, according to the Law of Return, by residence, or by naturalization. Individuals acquire nationality by birth if they were born in Israel to a father or a mother who is an Israeli citizen and if they do not hold another citizenship. Since the enactment of the Law of Return (1950), every Jew – regardless of his/her place of birth and residence – is entitled to make aliyah to Israel and become a citizen (a Jew is a person who was born to a Jewish mother or someone who converted to Judaism and does not claim any other religious affiliation).The Jew who makes aliyah becomes a citizen upon arriving in Israel, where he/she is granted an oleh certificate (oleh means “who came up,” who made aliyah). Since 1970, the Law of Return has been expanded to include the children of a Jew and their spouse, and the grandchildren of a Jew, in the name of the right to family reunification, even in the case of mixed marriages. This Law of Return has enabled the immigration of the vast majority of olim from the former Soviet Union, even though not all of them are considered “kosher” Jews according to the halakha (the Jewish religious law). Israel’s nationality law contains a specific clause regarding the acquisition of nationality by residence and addresses the case of the citizens of the Mandate of Palestine. The individuals who could prove uninterrupted presence within the territorial confines of Israel between the Declaration of Independence (in 1948) and the Ratification of the Nationality Law (in 1952) were granted Israeli citizenship. Therefore, according to Israeli jurisdiction, the Palestinians who were expelled or went into exile in neighboring countries are not considered Israeli citizens. The right of return for the 1948 refugees is at the heart of the Palestinian claims but the chances that it be considered favorably by Israeli negotiators are slim. A sociologist at the University of Haifa once shared with me the opinion of the majority of the Israeli Jews: “the right of return for Palestinians means the end of Israel as a Jewish state: their return is our end.”9

“Preferred” Minorities and/or Second-Class Citizens?

13 Now, Circassians are not Palestinians; if they have stayed in Israel after 1948, it is thanks to a political decision taken that year.10 They have never integrated into the Jewish Israeli majority since they are Muslims; they haven’t integrated into the Israeli Palestinian community either because of their loyalty to Israel; and they have never identified with the Druze since they are Circassians. The Circassian community cannot but define its identity thanks to solidarity and identification practices. A resident of Reyhaniya once told me: “To the Jews, we are mere Muslims and to the Arabs, we are Israelis.”11

14 Rather than identifying themselves as neither Jews nor Palestinians, nor Druze, the Israeli Circassians have adopted some behaviors from each major group and have established different partnerships with Jews, with Palestinians, and with the Druze. 15 Like some, the Circassians experience fear and discrimination; like others, they are accused of treachery and strongly wish to be recognized as unique; with others still, they wish to live together while making sure they get recognition. These identification practices have led the Circassians to make difficult choices that have an ongoing impact on their daily life and cause frustration. Indeed, while the Israeli Circassians are treated

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 268

quite differently from the Palestinians, they are still denied full citizenship and are often victims of discrimination. I interviewed a resident of Reyhaniya, whose husband holds a high-ranking position in the army and who sees herself as a full-fledged Israeli; she told me: We travel a lot and when we fly abroad, we fly out of Tel-Aviv, like everyone else. When we go through the security check, problems often arise. Last time, an eighteen-year-old kid asked us to show our identity cards. She was all smiles, but we gave her our IDs and when she saw our names on them, her smile disappeared. For an eighteen-year-old Israeli, our name sounds very Arabic. She asked us to wait and called her manager. X [the narrator’s husband] asked her what the problem was […] we knew full well what the problem was… and she curtly answered him that we should wait, that was all. Her manager arrived and asked what the problem was. She handed him our identity cards and gave our name. He first asked us where we were going, for what purpose, for how long. I was furious but I didn’t say anything, and at that moment, X [her husband] produced his district officer identification card… The security officer was quite embarrassed. X could have been his superior; he apologized. X and I, or the kids, we all look Israelis; I am blond and everyone always thinks I am Ashkenazi, and we speak perfect Hebrew, like all Israelis... Unlike the Arab-looking people, we rarely get checked at the security, but when we do get checked and when the security agents see our names, we have the same problems as the others. 16 All Circassians agree that they consider themselves as full Israeli citizens and they call history as a witness to their “unique” situation. They note, however, that they still aren’t viewed as citizens “like the others.” Individual accounts confirm this feeling but the distinction also affects the community as a whole. In November 2001, the Israeli daily newspapers reported on a two-week strike (well featured in the media) organized by the Druze and the Circassian municipal councils. Their representatives demanded that their councils be granted the same status as the Israeli councils. Ariel Sharon, then Prime Minister, committed to contribute fifty million shekels. For the municipal councils, this commitment was a first step in receiving official recognition; their meeting with President Moshe Katsav, who confirmed Sharon’s promise, ended the conflict on November 8th.

17 As early as 1987, the minister’s private office asked that the Druze and the Circassian towns receive equal treatment. Yet, the politicians’ wish to distinguish between the minorities rarely results in any real action. For instance, in 2008, Hurbeish – a Druze town with a population of 6,000 – had a twenty-seven million shekel budget while Shlomi, a neighboring Israeli town with the same number of inhabitants, boasted a forty-four million shekel budget. In February 2002, the Druze and Circassian education sectors went on strike to ask for a budget increase and to demand that the promises made in November 2001 be fulfilled. The agreements passed at the time were signed by Minister of Finance Silvan Shalom and Minister of the Interior Eli Yishai but only a third of the funds were transferred and the Druze and the Circassian towns once again implemented austerity measures the following year. “We have had enough of the politics of discrimination […] we want equality for the Druze and the Circassian citizens,” said the strikers (reported by Haaretz) 12. While the latter don’t hesitate to publicly denounce the discriminations they endure, they don’t ask for equality for all citizens; indeed, they advocate for equal rights between the Jews, the Circassians, and the Druze. At the same time, the municipality councils of Israeli Palestinians also went on strike. (Sometimes, the various groups within the non-Jewish sector join forces to move the negotiations forward, even if the latter are specific to each group.) The heads

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 269

of the councils, supported by the Palestinian members of the Knesset, tried to be heard in the Parliament – to no avail. The Minister of the Interior, Abraham Poraz, received the Circassian and the Druze representatives separately, thus highlighting the distinction between their different claims. As usual, the Druze deputy Majalli Whbee, who serves as an intermediary for the councils, promised the strikers that Ariel Sharon would personally come and speak with them if they ended the strike. The following year, the councils once again went on strike for the same reasons and, once again, the political intervention and promises persuaded the strikers to end the strike. The councils have regularly gone on strike for the past ten years to remind the government of their demands but the benefits they have been granted have been mainly theoretical. 18 In the summer of 2006, the 2006 Lebanon War set the north of the country on fire. An article by Aryeh Dayan in Haaretz revealed that the towns located in the area had received unequal compensations.13 A governmental report projected that depending on their economic loss, the towns would be granted full compensation or would receive partial payment of damages. The towns within ten kilometers of the Lebanese border would be fully compensated. Mr. Dahwar, a Palestinian lawyer from Fassuta, presented several petitions to the Supreme Court. He stated that the compensations were granted according to the ethnicity of the inhabitants; he declared: “The Arab towns near the Lebanese border will receive less money simply because they are Arabs.” To support his point, he provided a list of the towns which received compensation; the list showed that no Palestinian town had received full compensation while they had been damaged by the Hezbollah rockets no less than the other towns. Kibbutz Yehiam and Moshav Me’ona, for instance, appeared on the list of the towns which were compensated in full, whereas the Palestinian town of Ma’ilia, closer to the border, didn’t. The same was true of Jish, which did not appear on the list, while Dalton and Safufa were included in it. 19 Only three non-Jewish towns on the list were to receive full compensation: Peqi’in and Hurfeish – two Druze towns – and Reyhaniya. A political distinction was therefore made in favor of the two communities, a move that angered the neighboring Palestinian towns that failed to understand it. Exceptionally, the Minister’s private office released four hundred and forty-seven million shekels to indemnify the north of the country. The Druze and the Circassian communities were then close to be finally and concretely viewed as true Israelis. 20 Over a year later, Hurfeish mayor Rakad Khir a-Din declared that the majority of the money had not been received.14 The towns’ economic situation worsened and in 2008, the municipal council of Kfar Kama was unable to pay the salaries of its employees for eight months. The mayor of Reyhaniya even disclosed to me that a fifth of the town’s inhabitants could not pay the local taxes.15 On June 19, 2009, the Druze and Circassian authorities organized a new demonstration in front of the Knesset, in Jerusalem. As in former demonstrations, the mayors and the heads of the communities, who served in the Israeli army before turning to politics, wore their uniforms.16 Their placards read: “In the war, a Jew and a Druze are equal. In the budget, ten Druze children equal one Jewish child.” 21 The Circassians in Israel are neither Jews nor Palestinian Arabs; in theory, they cannot identify with these two major communities (even though they share with each of them enouncements and references – whether historical, geographical, cultural, political, or religious) but they wonder what share they will be given in the forthcoming territorial and geopolitical reconfigurations. At a time when the land will probably be divided into

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 270

two states for two peoples, the Circassians present the unusual case of Israeli citizens who are not Jewish but Muslim. Unlike the majority of the Israeli Palestinians who demand a political Palestinian citizenship, the Circassians define themselves as full- fledged Israelis and don’t question the Jewish ethnicity of the State of Israel. They accept their minority status and recognize the Israeli sovereignty (and its symbols); in exchange for that, they expect the State of Israel to view them as true citizens, who enjoy the same rights and have the same duties as the Jewish majority.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Abélès, Marc et Henri-Pierre Jeudy, (dir.) 1997 Anthropologie du politique, Paris, Armand Colin.

Amselle, Jean-Loup 2001 Branchements. Anthropologie de l’universalité des cultures, Paris, Flammarion, Coll. Champs.

Anderson, Benedict 2000 L’imaginaire national. Réflexions sur l’origine et l’essor du nationalisme, Paris, La Découverte.

Atchmoz, Shomaff et Hatukhay Ryad , 1991 Cherkeskher – HaCherkessim, en hébreu, (« Les Tcherkesses »), El Hakim, Kfar-Kama, Israël.

Balandier, Georges 1967 Anthropologie politique, Paris, Presses Universitaires de France.

Barth, Fredrick (dir.) 1969 Ethnic groups and Boundaries: The Social Organization of Culture Differences, Bergen/ London, George Allen & Unwin and Forgalet.

Bedri, Habiçoglu 1993 Kfkasya’dan Anadolu’ya göçler ve iskanlari, en turc, (« Migrations du Caucase et installation en Anatolie »), Istanbul, Turquie, Nart Yyincilik.

Ben-Amos, Avner 2010 Israël. La fabrique de l’identité nationale, Paris, CNRS Éditions.

Bénichou, Delphine (Textes choisis et édités par.) 2008 Le Sionisme dans les textes, Paris, CNRS Éditions.

Bourdieu, Pierre 1979 La distinction, Paris, Les Éditions de Minuit, coll. « Le sens commun ».

Bulletin du Centre de recherche français à Jérusalem, 23 | 2012 271

2003 « Muslim revivalism and the emergence of civic-society, a case of study of an Israeli- Circassian community », Central Asian Survey 22 (1): 5-21.