Contested Histories (Neil Caplan)

Neil’s Caplan’s The Israel-Palestine Conflict is an attempt at a fairly measured and objective overview of the conflict in which he considers the various positions that people hold and includes some of the key elements that he feels contributes to what he refers to as the “intractability” of the conflict.

He begins by outlining the perspectives of the conflict in the following ways: “Are the Jews a people (nation) entitled to lay claim to a nation-state on the “Land of Israel” - or a non-political, world religious community with no special territorial rights?” and: “Are the Palestinians a people with distinct national and political rights […] or a part of the Arab people with no legitimate claim [to] Palestine?” Such framing may appear to helpful at first glance, but it is also leading the discussion down specific paths, though this is some ways understandable as it sometimes feels safer to try and create very specific fences around this topic in order to try to discuss it without making missteps here and there.

With this in mind, Caplan also brings attention to the number of terms which are used to discuss the conflict, including Jew, Zionist, Arab, and Palestinian. We can certainly say that discussing this conflict is often made more difficult because of the numerous side steps and diversions needed at certain points when it feels necessary to clarify certain terms or make reference to key historical events (whether those events are relatively recent or based on historical/mythological texts).

As often seems to be the case, the starting-point for the discussion is around late 19^th century Europe and the emergence of Zionism as an ethno-nationalist conception. Caplan outlines that “beginning in the late 19^th century, a growing number of Jews […] defined themselves as a people whose identity included national-political and territorial components.” This was in the context of ill-treatment and scorn in European nations/states/communities. The proposed solution was a “return” to Zion from the lands which they were “last dispersed by the Roman conquerors of Palestine.” In contrast, the Arabs, he suggests, are an “ethno-national group with common cultural and linguistic roots emanating from ancient tribes in the Arabian peninsula” - that is: Saudi Arabia, Yemen, and the Gulf States. This also includes, importantly, Palestinians, though as we have noted in other readings some Palestinians may challenge the attempt to box them-in as ‘Arabs’.

We already have enough terms and historical references to discuss for at least a few hours, but in addition we have what Caplan refers to as the “religious dimension” in the sense that Palestine is a land which is holy and sacred for Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike. This brings into play certain ideological and moral considerations: some people are chosen, others are despised and rejected; the friction between believers and unbelievers, and the dangers of Us/Them approaches; the idea of righteousness and immorality; the promises of reward and of favour. It could also be argued that the religious dimension prevents compromise, or embeds factions, and that the religious dimension may also bring a certain degree of intolerance and fanaticism, though this would be to take a more negative position on religion.

Nevertheless, as we have seen in other readings on this subject, there is a clear and obvious problem with the Zionist proposal to secure Palestine as its own land: “both parties claim original ownership of and entitlement to inhabit and exercise sovereignty (national self-determination) over the same piece of land.” At the specific point of time in which the Zionists laid claim to the land of Palestine, in the words of a certain Zionist Goliath: “the bride is beautiful, but she is married to another man.”

For all the intended objectivity, Caplan does appear to stray into shaky ground when stating that “several Israelite kingdoms existed in the tenth and eighth centuries BCE, but the area was for centuries under the rule of various empires” and that “there was no distinct political entity called “Palestine” between ancient times and the early twentieth century.” This is shaky ground in the sense of Caplan referencing the Bible as a historical document but making no such room to consider Palestine’s ancient history, which seems a little underhanded, though much may rest on Caplan’s (and those he references) definition of what constitutes a political entity. Ultimately, he seems to suggest that the basis for claim (of either party) is a little flawed when we consider the shifts and movements of history upon a specific geographical territory.

Arguably the most difficult thing for Zionists and apologists for Israel to defend against is the assertion that Zionism was originally (and remains to this day) a colonial project/undertaking. The authors and key leaders of Zionism make constant reference to it as being a colonial project, and they refer to Palestinians as both the indigenous peoples and the natives (not to mention as brutes and other such terms). Caplan outlines that practical Zionism, “immigration, land purchase, and settlements” created “facts on the ground”, and there is no avoiding the fact that Palestinians living in their land were displaced, removed, and uprooted. Some of this, the claim is, was through legitimate means such as legal land purchases. Whilst we have reason to distrust this claim, even if it were true in some instances we cannot avoid that in many/most instances the appropriation of land and resources, as well as the destruction of cultural institutions, were acts of aggression, measured and considered within the historical context of colonialism.

A noteworthy consideration of Caplan’s text is when he addresses the wider considerations of the historians’ craft. One such example is when he outlines the ways in which we can visualise (and discuss) this conflict. We could consider it linearly, through dates and events; or we can visualise it like a cycle or a spiral (of grievances, tensions and sparks); or we can view it geographically, through maps. We can also use analogies and parables, for example:

• A man falling from a burning building who lands on another man. The fallen man is relatively unscathed, but the man he falls on is left paralysed.
• Two people fighting, each choking one another’s neck.
• Two people sharing a house, with one incrementally taking more and more of the property.
• A bitter married couple.

For his part, Caplan frames the conflict as follows:

• Two peoples seeking fulfilment and self-determination as unique national entities, competing for mastery over the same land; and
• An original, local conflict drawing in outside parties.

Another way of viewing the conflict, he notes, is in terms of paradigms and historical allusions: a modern-day Crusader implantation of Israel as the aggressive colonial state; Zionism as a national liberation movement, rallying a persecuted diaspora; or a corollary to apartheid South Africa, for example.

Caplan also makes reference to the historical moment in time of the awakening of the Arab nation (following the fall of the Ottoman Empire) and the rival movement of Zionism, with both laying claims to the land using their Holy Texts. I think we can state that the Zionists used a holy text as basis for claim, but I’m not so sure the same can be said of the Palestinians.

What can additionally be said is that the Zionist movement was “emulating” the nationalist movements and nation-states within Europe at that time, and that there was a European “thrust” against the economic, political and cultural power over the 400-year old Ottoman Empire which would soon disintegrate. The right to self-determination was largely extended (by the world powers of the time) to the Zionists; it remains to be seen whether this will be extended to the Palestinians, though the majority of the nation-state of the UN appear to support this (save for The United State of America, Israel).

As noted, the most accepted argument against the Zionist movement regards its colonial character. The colonial-settler prism is, Caplan writes, “well-established” and “popular”. He wonders if this is a kind of postcolonial guilt? It may well be, in a similar way that support for early Zionism from the colonial powers may have reflected in part their terrible treatment of Jewish people in Europe at the time, which had ebbed and flowed at various points in the preceding centuries. Nevertheless, the colonial aspect is also “an integral part of an authentic Palestinian narrative based on actual experience.” Caplan treads lightly in this area by wondering if Zionism somehow “morphed” into colonialism? This is hard to accept, however, if we consider that figures such as Herzl and Jabotinsky made very clear reference to their project as being colonial in nature. Zionists, Caplan writes, “carried with them cultural prejudices of their times about their inherent superiority as Europeans facing primitive “natives” who were in need of...” X, Y, and Z – we can insert our own terms here. For the most part, the Zionist immigrants to Palestine viewed the native Palestinians not as equals but as an underdeveloped people. It is also asserted (to this day) that Palestine was an arid place, a terra nullius in need of attention.

Britain’s role in this conflict weighs heavy. Caplan explores this in some detail, noting that the British establishment had made three specific First World War commitments:

1. Arab anti-Turkish revolt (against the Ottoman Empire) in exchange for independence – this led to the creation of Transjordan, for example.
2. British, French, and Russian “spheres of influence” – this led to the Sykes-Picot Agreement.
3. British support for a Jewish national home – this led to the Balfour Declaration.

These promises led to “exaggerated and incompatible expectations”. For example, the exclusion of Transjordan from the land allocated to the Zionists was, according to Ze’ev Jabotinsky, a British “betrayal.” For the so-called Arabs, including the Palestinian Arabs, they began to organise from the 1920s onward, creating a “state within a state.” This is often seen as being too late given the decades of organisation, action, and political steps taken by the Zionists. Their aim was to organise in order to resist the Zionist programme which, following the Balfour Declaration (which had omitted the Palestinians) was a wake-up call and a clear signposting of the terrible game in hand.

We have heard (and read) about how Zionism regarded Palestine as, at worst, a terra nullius or, at best, an inefficiently used area of land in which their presence would benefit the natives. Herzl and others asserted that Zionism would bring great prosperity to the land. Indeed, “many advocates of Zionism promoted the idea that Arabs living in Palestine were not genuinely opposed to the coming of the Jews – whether they had no political attachment to the country, or because everyone believed that Zionism would bring only great benefit to the local population.” If the local population were indeed welcoming to the immigrants arriving from Europe, some (or many) of whom were fleeing mistreatment and prejudice, this seems to me to be a favourable impression of the Palestinian people rather than a point in favour of Zionism.

What do we know of how the Zionist immigrants regarded the Palestinians at this time? We know that some became non-Zionist, or indeed anti-Zionist, and that some, including within the right-wing Zionist Revisionist movement, responded in an “unabashedly colonialist manner”, including through land acquisition, immigration, and through militia movements. Here, Caplan makes reference to the Iron Wall approach.

Zionism was equated as progress within Palestine, presenting the indigenous population as “forces of destruction” and “forces of the desert” on one side and the Zionist “forces of civilization and building” on the other. We again encounter the colonial mindset which attempts to justify its actions by claiming that the land and resources are being inefficiently used, or to create a civilized vs uncivilized binary.

Between 1929-1939, well into the Mandatory Period, Caplan notes that the Palestinians began to request more representation, but this was rebuffed by the British. This in turn led to radicalisation in certain quarters. We noted this during our reflection on Avi Shlaim’s The Iron Wall – Israel and The Arab World in terms of the effects of feeling voiceless within society or within a community and how this can lead to more externalised behaviours. At this time, the Palestinians had further reason to fear immigration, and this led to “disturbances”, which led to “revolt”, and then to outright “rebellion”. The ceasefire, Caplan notes, was achieved by setting a certain precedent: inviting and allowing regional leaders to intervene in Palestinian affairs. Not only are the Palestinians voiceless, therefore, but they are continually bypassed in the arenas of the system, or they are represented by some other party (with other, sometimes conflicting, interests).

At this point we are asked to consider whether the Palestine Mandate was “workable”, with the Peel Commission in 1936 determining that:

“an irrepressible conflict has arisen between two national communities within the narrow bounds of one small country [with] no common ground between them.”

It strikes me as dangerous to state that there is no common ground, though we must appreciate the lived experience of this. The assertion that there isn’t a common ground between peoples is to emphasise difference rather than identify shared Humanity. At the time, following further revolts, the Palestinians, we are told, rejected the “two state” proposal. Caplan asks whether by accepting this the Palestinians could have contained further Zionist growth? Whether or not this is the case, it feels like a key question should be why this was rejected, rather than aiming a criticism at the Palestinian leadership at that time? Surely we must account for the side of Zionism (in collaboration with the British) because, and we hear this from them directly, they intended to bypass the Palestinians. The events of this time also support the idea of the Palestinian peoples being bypassed, ignored, or for the Zionist diplomacy to be insincere.

The retreat from the partition proposal led to a new government white paper in 1939 which outlined two distinct political gains for the Palestinians:

1. Palestine’s right to independence
2. The right of the Palestinians to safeguard their majority status

This, too, was rejected by the Palestinian political leadership as it was not regarded to be full or immediate independence. Each side asserts, or alleges, that the other side were essentially aggressive, violent, and evil. The other, in turn (or when attacked), claims response to violence. For the Palestinians, Zionism was an imposition and an intrusion – an “inherently aggressive act”. And why not? We need not use an analogy to describe what was happening here and how we might respond (or feel) if we were in a similar circumstance.

Caplan notes that the violence of the rebellion (in terms of the Arab Revolt), can be seen to be a way of attracting interest (where peaceful means/protest had failed), with the violence being an “inevitable corollary of the moral violence done to them.” We often hear attempts to justify violence and acts by way of referencing past traumas and injustices. This is tricky ground in general, as it is difficult to identify first causes, though it is not unreasonable to suggest that conflicts can have very clearly defined starting points. The one thing that strikes me is the evidence that the Palestinian people and leadership tried peaceful, diplomatic means, but were bypassed and largely ignored. It can also be clearly evidenced that the Palestinian people have repeatedly tried peaceful, diplomatic means to resolve their occupation, but (as we shall see), this has still not led to resolution from the intent to destroy them as a people and to fully appropriate their lands. Apologists in defence of Zionism, however, are likely to point that proposals for solutions were rejected. This, however, feels much more reductive than identifying first causes.

The terrible events being perpetrated against Jews in Europe led to more immigration to Palestine: they were looking for a safe haven, and the Zionist proposal must have held an understandable attraction. In this context we can consider how the Holocaust also impacted in terms of the need to rescue the Jewish people from Europe. Zionists argued that in order to do this they would need free and unlimited immigration to Palestine, which in turn would necessitate the recognition of their political rights. This in turn would serve to strengthen their idea of a historical connection and other claims. Interestingly, Rashid Khalidi in The Hundred Year’s War on Palestine makes reference to there being a kind of “critical mass” of Zionist population within Palestine which would tip the scales in their favour. For Zionist leaders and ideologues, “Hitler and the Holocaust were the terrible proof of the correctness of Herzl’s theory”. There was indeed (and rightly so) a huge post-war sympathy for the afflicted, though we may wish to question why the same measure of sympathy does not appear to have been circulated to other afflicted groups during the past century, notwithstanding the terrors of the Holocaust. Can we regard the Holocaust as in some regards unprecedented? We know of other terrible colonial practices taking place (such as the Belgians in Congo, Germany in Namibia, and Britain in Ireland/India/China/South Africa and so on); we can even speak on the practices of the Empire of the United States of America in terms of Japan, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, the whole American continent (including against a large proportion of its own people) and, of course, Palestine.

At this point we may ask again, in terms of first causes, whether one injustice can ever be said to necessitate an injustice against another? Or whether there can be justification for one crime in the light of another crime? In society, education and social care and so on, we sometimes hear of trauma being generational, and there are sometimes attempts made to understand (if not justify) terrible acts by looking at the context and background of an individual. But we are already in tricky territory.

In 1946 the Anglo-American Committee of Enquiry (AACI) explicitly linked the survivors of the Holocaust to the future of the land of Palestine. It recommended that the future government of Palestine be based on non-domination and that it should have “binational” (read: the two-state solution) principles:

1. Jew shall not dominate Arab; Arab shall not dominate Jew
2. Palestine would be neither a Jewish nor an Arab state

In 1947, UNSCOP recommended the partition of Palestine into independent Jewish and Arab states. Discussions ensued. The “pro-Arab narratives portray strong-arm tactics” wielded by the Zionists and their sponsors (by this time largely the USA, as Britain slowly stepped aside), whereas the pro-Israeli accounts depict this as a lobbying campaign waged by a “small, feeble people” fighting against overwhelming odds. Put another way, Caplan frames this as foul play vs valiant struggle, and he once again makes reference to the Western guilt regarding the Holocaust.

For their part, the Palestinians objected to an outside body (the UN) forcing the demands of a minority against the wishes of the indigenous majority. The Arabs/Palestinians rejected the proposal, and we can once again ask how sincere the process was. We may also wonder whether the Palestinians felt that the system which had so far worked against them was structured in spite of them.

We can also point out that although the General Assembly had the power to recommend, it did not have the power to enforce. This is also key context for today, where we see bodies such as the International Court of Justice (ICJ) recommend provisional measures based on their determination that Israel may plausibly be committing genocide against the Palestinians people, but these provisional measures be ignored. In the same vein, we have allegations made against organisations such as UNRWA, which have largely proven to be unfounded (with dubious methods used in order to extract “evidence” or “confessions”) which in turn has led to aid and support being withheld (to the people against whom a genocide may plausibly be taking place).

As noted in Avi Shlaim’s The Iron Wall, the perceptions of the war in 1947 differ vastly. The Israeli narrative depicts a David vs Goliath scenario, whereas the Arab world regards it as a rebuff against the latest European Crusade. Evidence suggests, Caplan notes, that the “better organised and highly motivated Zionist militias” defeated the “unprepared and poorly-led Palestinians”, and that most historians now “tend to discount the Israeli self-view that they were the ‘few against many’”.

In 1949 Israel was accepted as a member state of the UN. The new frontiers of Israel extended beyond the recommendations of the partition plan, covering approximately 78% of the former “Mandatory Palestine.” For the Palestinians, this is the Nakba, with the loss of their homeland, the destruction of their society, the displacement of more than half the population (650,000 – 700,000), who were then under the ward of the UNRWA. It feels abhorrent to compare and contrast the Holocaust to the Nakba in terms of which was a worse event or trauma, so the position taken by Caplan (namely that we must regard each one as a defining trauma for each group) is for me the most admirable position. We can view it as an “interlocking” of Jewish refugees (following the Holocaust) and Palestinian refugees (following al-Nakba), with forced migrations following tragedies. One difference may be that, in some sense, the Jewish refugees were welcomed to Palestine (because, as we shall see, Palestine had been a multicultural place inhabited by many different peoples of many different religions for thousands of years), whereas the Palestinians were soon banished, deported, murdered and so on.

Caplan also asserts that there is an “undercurrent of righteous victimhood that animates both Israelis and Palestinians”. This has some distinct implications, namely the tendency of the one to focus on their own suffering and to have a reduced empathy for the other. For the Israelis, they see themselves as endangered victims, with a “Masada Complex”, or a “Samson Syndrome.” This mindset appears to be a crucial feature of the national psyche. We may say this is with good reason, though this still falls short of justifying the actions taken against the Palestinians for the past century or so.

Returning to the Nakba, it is important to note that the Israeli account is that many Palestinians left voluntarily, or under orders from Arab commanders. Recent research, Caplan writes, refutes these claims. This includes through Israeli “new historian” Benny Morris which, in his 1987 book The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, outlines accounts of massacres, rapes, expulsions, and looting committed by Israeli forces. In 2004 he conceded that the support for the idea of “transfer” was more extensive than he had first concluded. We may say that there remains an appetite for this approach today, with the word “transfer” being used rather extensively by Israeli leaders, as well as figures within the United State of America (who talk of the value of real estate on the shorelines of Gaza).

This leads us into another key aspect of the conflict: the Palestinians are now refugees, some of whom are living under occupation in Gaza and the West Bank. Caplan asks why this has remained unresolved? Israel lays the blame on the Arab states, additionally claiming that the UNRWA has deliberately and cynically perpetrated the issue. This seems an extraordinary position to take, a strange inversion or a repugnant stubbornness, but it seems to be in keeping with the strategies and the founding guidance outlined in the Zionism ideology. Moreover, despite UNGA resolution 194 (the right of return), as well as repeated follow-ups, Israel has consistently rejected any massive return. Caplan notes that Israel will only consider resettlement outside of Israel or some form of compensation. And why would they consider a return? Any return, however minor, may be seen as a kind of admission of guilt which in turn would threaten what they have created.

Following 1949, the Palestinians were a “spent force,” dispersed, leaderless and so on. Palestinian issues were treated as secondary concerns to the regional conflict involving Israel, Syria, Jordan, and Egypt. The phrase “Palestinian cause” carried both positive and negative connotations, a “litmus test” for Arab politicians and their nationalistic credentials. On the ground in the so-called Arab world, the people had a regard for the Palestinians, but in the halls of power (and in the meeting rooms), this was perhaps less apparent. Many would argue that the same remains true to this day.

In the aftermath of 1948 there were, Caplan notes, six key issues dominating the relations between Israel and the Arab states (with the Palestinians sidelined during this time). Israel, for its part (and we can say understandably) wanted a comprehensive peace package. They were negotiating from a position of both superiority and fragility:

1. Recognition and legitimacy (of Israel).
2. Boundaries and territories – the Arab states wanted Israel to retreat from gains made from war.
3. Refugees – some form of return or compensation.
4. Jerusalem.
5. Suez Canal.
6. Water.

From this point there occurred a “pattern of unceasing, low-level, cross-border terror attacks” which increased the level of fear and insecurity in the Israeli public and “further hardened existing attitudes in which Arabs were seen as congenital murderers whose aggressive actions had to be countered with stern measures.” I always recall Malcolm X stating that in order to speak with someone you must first learn to speak their language (or “You can’t ever reach a man if you don’t speak his language”). It’s worth quoting in full, however:

“If a man speaks the language of brute force, you can't come to him with peace. Why, good night! He'll break you in two, as he has been doing all along. If a man speaks French, you can't speak to him in German. If he speaks Swahili, you can't communicate with him in Chinese. You have to find out what this man speaks. And once you know his language, learn how to speak his language, and he'll get the point. There'll be some dialogue.”

I don’t mean to state, unequivocally, that instances of Palestinian armed resistance, or so-called acts of terrorism, are attempts to speak the language of Israel, though we can certainly say that acts of violence may be a response to violence (in proportion, that is); and I certainly don’t mean to say that acts of violence are justified in this light, though some may wish to take this position. For me, I keep thinking of the lengths that a person will go to when they are feeling voiceless or muted or abused. As noted in previous posts, every teacher across the land will be able to tell you that all behaviour is a form of communication, so when we see a child with behaviours which are disruptive, or perceived as rude and so on, or even physical aggression, we know we must identify the underlying communication in order to work to resolution (and, furthermore, we must first ensure they are regulated, out of their fight/flight/freeze state so that the prefrontal cortex can be accessed).

The violence and terror attacks were not, obviously, one-sided. This has not simply been a conflict of Israeli “self-defence” against mindless and senseless “terror attacks”. Nevertheless, we do see Israeli responses to armed resistance and terror attacks, notably the Qibya Raid (1953), in which Israeli raiders killed 50-60 inhabitants of a village. Was this a deliberate massacre, Caplan asks? There was widespread international condemnation. David Ben-Gurion, the Goliath of early Israel, felt that it didn’t matter what was said around the world about Israel: the important thing was how it would be viewed in the region. In other words: the Arab neighbours (and Palestinians) must see Israel as an uncompromising, brutal force. This “face” of Israel has been seen by more and more people over the past few decades.

At this time, Caplan notes that an arms race developed between Soviet client states (such as Syria and Egypt) and Israel who were a “largely French but now also American client.” This eventually builds to the Six Day War (1967), with Nasser’s blockade of the Straits of Tiran a “casus belli” for Israel. Indeed, fear of destruction became a “central factor in the self-image” of Israel. To a certain extent we can regard Israel as a nation being forged and created in the heat of persecution and abandonment who also happen to be surrounded by people whom they view as enemies (in part because they make them enemies through the act of appropriation and belligerence).

One additional impact of the Six Day War was that it removed Egypt and Jordan from their “tutelage” over the Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank. In the so-called Arab world, and for those who regarded the creation of Israel as “a product of colonial implantation, violent conquest and ethnic cleansing”, 1967 was “proof of Zionism’s inherent aggressiveness and expansionism.” An additional 200,000 – 250,000 Palestinians were displaced. The non-resolution to the refugee problem, writes Caplan, “contributes to feelings of dejection and despair.” Indeed, why should the world expect the Palestinians to forget in several decades what the Jewish people and Zionists had failed to forget about their own experiences and persecution over preceding centuries?

As we move into the 1970s, Caplan notes a number of acts of international terrorism against Israeli and Jewish targets (such as plane hijackings). Caplan notes that there was a surge in recruitment (for these acts) due to the “despair at ever finding satisfaction of grievances through standard avenues” - again, this is not meant to justify acts, only to provide context and depth to the dialogue. For their part, many Palestinians rejected the label of “terrorist”, instead preferring terms such as Liberation Movement. We learned in Nur Masalha’s Palestine, a Four Thousand Year History that the right to name something is to exert a sense of ownership and power. The same could be said, perhaps, for the naming of our own actions.

Caplan references Rashid Khalidi, who observed that, during this time, Palestinians:

“were required by the United States and Israel to cease their resistance to an illegal occupation as a precondition for being allowed to negotiate for an end to their occupation.”

This seems absurd when put so plainly. Most of us can think of a time where we have felt wrongly accused, or where the scales of justice feel tampered with, and we can all relate to how that feels and the different responses we can give (fight/flight/freeze, for example). The United States and Israel demanded that the PLO recognise Israel in much the same way a teacher tells Child A (who has punched Child B) to apologise to Child B (who has been bullying Child A). Child B, standing beside the teacher, smiles at Child A and mouths “this isn’t over”. Here we slip into the marshland of using analogies to discuss the conflict. Nevertheless, we would hope that most people could empathise with Child A, or at least refrain from reductive judgements about his actions towards Child B.

Over time, there is a shift in the Palestinian acceptance for co-existence. We may also see an increased space for the Palestinian voice. In 1974, Yasser Arafat addressed the UN General Assembly (the “Olive Branch Speech”), and afterwards a Resolution was passed in which a deep concern was expressed that no just solution had yet been found. It is also emphasised the “inalienable right of the Palestinians to return to their homes and property from which they have been displaced and uprooted.” In 1975, there was also a Resolution (3379) determining that Zionism was “a form of racism and racial discrimination”, though this was revoked in 1991. Caplan notes that international efforts towards a settlement during this period (post-1973) were “stage-managed” by the United States, and more specifically Henry Kissinger. His process was to deal with the Arab states one by one, and to exclude (there’s that word again) the PLO.

Over this time (and certainly following 1967), there is a noted increase in settlements in Gaza and the West Bank, from 3,200 Israelis in 24 settlements in 1977 to 42,600 in over 100 settlements by 1984. The encroachment, in turn, necessitated (in the Israeli eyes) an enhanced protection through increased army and border patrol presence. This feels like a clear colonial-settler practice, with the armed presence offering protection for the coloniser as well as antagonism (not to mention ill-treatment) of the native citizens to the point that a “fight” response is activated, which in turn “necessitates” a response from the armed forces.

Caplan further notes that the “quality of these Israeli-Palestinian relationships on the ground – between occupier and occupied, between boss and worker – was problematic, harsh, and sometime brutal.” Caplan specifically references The Karp report: an Israeli government inquiry into settler violence against Palestinians on the West Bank (1984). Human rights abuses, notes Caplan, “became common as the Israeli authorities, military in essence but with a civilian veneer, ruled over a largely peaceful, but resentful, population.” Benny Morris further notes that:

“Like all occupations, Israel’s was founded on brute force, repression and fear, collaboration and treachery, beating and torture chambers, and daily intimidation, humiliation, and manipulation”.

We also learn that, in the early 1980s, radical settlers, in attempts to justify vigilante violence as a deterrence and/or retaliation, came to view Palestinians as “modern-day embodiments of Amalek of the Bible – the tribe […] deserving to be forever pursued until they were wiped off the face of the Earth.” To hear, today, of the reference to Amalek being used by the leader of Israel is both sickening and unsettling – the intended message leaves no room for misinterpretation. Forever pursued. Wiped off the face of the Earth.

Caplan also notes that, during this time, there was an ambiguity on the part of Israel’s intentions: would the government (particularly under the right-wing Likud Party) move to “annex more territories to create the Greater Land of Israel”, or would it be more left-leaning with a view to making peace arrangements?

We have previously noted that Caplan brought attention to how each party (Israeli and Palestinian) has an undercurrent of righteous victimhood which can result in them focusing on their own suffering with a reduced empathy for the other. Caplan also brings attention to how each side has “crassly resorted to what may be called ‘nazification’ of the enemy”. Within the current context of the conflict, and without any intentional bias, this nazification seems to be more in line with the Israeli actions against the Palestinians rather than the other way around. Israel, after all, is the occupying power, with almost total control of what enters and exits the territories (including food, water, utilities and so on). Nevertheless, Caplan observes that:

“these deeply felt, parallel Israeli and Palestinian feelings of victimhood remain inextricable psychological obstacles to resolving the conflict. To an outside observer they may seem far-fetched […] yet our efforts to understand the conflict will not be advanced by wishing away these ingrained perceptions of victimhood, or by advising the parties to get over them, move on, and put the past behind them.”

This seems like fair advice. The dialogue here isn’t about ignoring injustice, it is about recognising injustice and taking ownership of past actions – for the Israelis (and their supporters/apologists), this may even include conceding some difficult truths, or recognising some uncomfortable similarities to terrible organisations, or admitting these similarities in a kind of reverse of what Jewish people experienced in Europe over many centuries culminating in the events of the Holocaust.

In my notes at this point I have written: what would China advise? I find myself drawn to observing the ways in which China acts and speaks on the global stage. In the interests of transparency, I lived in China for two years, and although I found some elements challenging (some social isolation, difficulty with crowds), overall I look back on my experiences in the land as mostly positive to the extent that I sometimes wonder if I was more accepted and welcomed there than I have been all my life in the country I was born. I also can’t help but question the broad narratives we are told about China (they have no human rights, for example) to what I actually saw and experienced. But two years is only a snapshot, and I appreciate that the machinations on the global stage are to a large extent smoke and mirrors, feints and swivels. Overall, I find myself more interested in what China has to say about this conflict than I do the USA or the UK because these two nations feel to me to be grossly compromised.

We have seen how disaffectedness and a lack of progression through peaceful means eventually led to more externalised behaviours, including violence and disruption. Caplan also notes how disillusionment with the “ineffectual Fatah and PLO leadership” led to the creation of Palestinian Islamic Jihad and Hamas which filled “a much-neglected gap by providing social, educational, and health services in the territories.” This is a fascinating area of concern (if it weren’t for all the suffering) in terms of the evolution of political and grass roots movements. I wonder how many links we can make between some of the more acceptable points of Zionism (in terms of how the Jewish people were being persecuted) and the viewpoints of political movements in Palestine.

In 1987 came the Intifada. This, Caplan observes, “surprises everyone” including the PLO, in terms of the determination and the degree of organisation of the movement. Israel put down this “shaking off” through repressive military measures. This was a wake-up call for many Israelis, and a decision had to be made: either fully annex the territories, or leave them. In case of annexation, one element proposed was to encourage (or force) Palestinians to leave and relocate – in other words an expulsion or a “transfer”. This context (and language) is also being used today.

In the 1990s Caplan believes that there was a period of hope and heightened expectations (in terms of the Oslo Accords and Madrid Conference). As noted in Rashid Khalidi’s The Hundred Years War on Palestine, these were far from positive steps for the Palestinian people. The dialogues, Caplan notes, or we can say the appearance of sincere dialogue, worked to Israel’s favour as it reduced their global isolation. The UN Resolution which stated that Zionism = racism was revoked, and more diplomatic relations were created with Israel and other nations.

“Unfortunately, after a few years of attempts to implement the commitments outlined in the DoF [Declaration of Principles], it became painfully obvious that the new Israeli-Palestinian peace process was in trouble.” The reasons for this are discussed in Avi Shlaim’s The Iron Wall. In retrospect, writes Caplan, the late 1990s were a “time bomb waiting to explode”, with “the whole philosophy of the Oslo process” being based on “incremental steps of interim arrangements towards resolving final status issues, building confidence along the way.” But Israel continued to build settlements which, in turn, led to more Palestinian “terrorism” and the Israeli “matrix of control” tightening.

The Palestinians, it is noted, felt deceived. Israel was allowed (or was not stopped by the mediating powers such as the USA) to “help itself to huge bites of the pie which were supposed to be in negotiation.” Once again, we can question the sincerity of the supposedly diplomatic process on the side of Israel and its bodyguards (puppeteers? pimps? producers? gimps?). We should not be surprised, given the cycle of disaffectedness and voicelessness experienced by the Palestinians (not to mention what we might term the “first principles”), to learn of a second Intifada from 2000 (which immediately followed the end of Shlaim’s text), which was in part a response to Israeli encroachment on Muslim holy places. This “proved to be a costly and politically unproductive rebellion for the Palestinians”, as the escalation of violence led to a hardline Israeli Prime Minister in Ariel Sharon.

In 2007 “Hamas fighters […] staged a coup d’etat” in which they were “ruling over (but blockaded inside) Gaza.” At the same time, Caplan notes that there was a shift in Israeli politics to ring-wing parties and policies. At this point Caplan references Bernard Lewis, a British-American historian:

“Religious parties tend to become fundamentalist, and fundamentalism, by its very nature, is ruthless and uncompromising.”

We might add that religious fundamentalism appeals to the disenfranchised and the disaffected, particularly when other parts of the circus are missing or ineffectual.

Caplan notes that, at the time of writing (2018):

“the Hamas-governed Gaza Strip has again become a serious flashpoint for a possible eruption of full-scale war. Almost 2 million Palestinians live under horrible conditions in an area described as an ‘open-air prison.’”

At the time of writing this reflection (March 2024), we could say that the conditions have become considerably/unimaginably worse, with the majority of Palestinians within Gaza now having been funnelled to Rafah, with Israel continuing its military “actions” against the Palestinian people (and civilian infrastructure such as hospitals), each of whom they accuse of being linked to Hamas. Even a figure as compromised and shady as Keir Starmer is calling for a “ceasefire that lasts”, warning against any military assault on Rafah, whilst other political figures have gone much further, such as Brazilian President Lula da Silva, who has stated: “what Israel is doing in Gaza is equivalent to what Hitler did to the Jews.”

Caplan’s makes a pathway to explore what it means to be a historian, and how “one basic lesson they [that is, professors and students of history] learn is to appreciate the limits of objectivity.” Every historian is creating a narrative in the sense of selecting and omitting materials and references – how can they achieve balance (if indeed the intention is to achieve some balance)?

Historians and journalists may often/always have biases and can be influenced by the system of which they are a part. It seems like an obvious thing to say in this day and age, but the information we receive both from the news industry and the academic industry is, in large part, designed to influence and shape minds and discourses. Ages and generations shift and change. The propaganda of one age, and the power of the circus, can become less and less effective.

He considers the importance of recognising and detecting biases, and he notes how different historians have approached the conflict between Israel and Palestine. For example, he considers Israel’s new historians (such as Avi Shlaim) who, he argues, “have portrayed the Israel-Arab conflict as if it were primarily a series of missed opportunities for peace.” We certainly encounter this assertion from time to time from Israeli apologists (though I don’t mean to class Avi Shlaim as an Israeli apologist). They regard Palestinian suffering as, in part, their own fault (or, by extension, the fault of surrounding Arab nations), taking little or no account for their own actions. Caplan describes this approach as a form of “counterfactual analysis” as it “relies heavily on second-guessing” - if only X, then perhaps Y. It is reasonable to ask (or as reasonable to ask), during a whole century of varying degrees of diplomacy and political manoeuvrers, how sincere the Zionists have been? During the Mandate Period, were Zionists really open to various proposals and initiatives? A famous Zionist is quoted as stating that the Arabs “never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity.” The Palestinians are viewed through the lens of extremism and rejectionism which, Caplan rightly points out, is a form of blaming the victim.

Caplan, referencing historian Philip Mattar, does assert, however, that the rejection of the 1922 Legislative Council proposals was a “major tactical error” in which the Palestinians “denied themselves a forum for regular access to British officials, whilst the Jewish Agency continued to advise the Palestine government in Jerusalem and the Zionist Organisation had the ear of the British government in London and the League of Nations in Geneva.” This feels only a little better than “blaming the victims” as it still apportions some blame, or in the very least a wry sigh and shake of the head at the oppressed peoples: if only they had had this brief window of opportunity to advocate for themselves, everything would have been so much different! But my learning is extremely narrow so I must trust in the experts in this matter.

In considering solutions, Caplan notes that there are, broadly speaking, two:

1. Two separate, sovereign states.
2. One sovereign state, with a wide variety of formats.

This is, he notes, aside from the “doomsday” scenario where one side completely wipes out, subordinates, or absorbs the other. We may ask whether, in March 2024, we are heading towards this.

Solution 1, Caplan notes, has historical roots to the Balfour Declaration and the Mandate, the Peel Commission and the UNSCOP proposal – he asserts that this has been the starting point of almost every effort to resolve this conflict. He writes that “a formula based on two states for two nations is the only one that may provide a glimmer of hope”, though as Asher Susser has it: “for both Israelis and Palestinians, a two-state solution [is] not an ideal, but the lesser evil.”

But the very act of engaging a dialogue (and a sincere dialogue at that) is hampered by an “attitudinal obstacle underpinning all the arguments” which is “the tendency of both parties to deflect responsibility onto the other as the root cause of their misfortunes.” Whilst I kind of grasp Caplan’s line of reasoning, I can’t see how the Israelis/Zionists can lay blame at the Palestinians for the root cause of their misfortunes – surely more blame can be laid at the feet of the European nations who mistreated the Jewish diaspora, or who denied or restricted them entry at various times of need? Perhaps the fact that the European nations (and the USA) have been strong supporters of Israel somewhat negates this blame? This feels like fragile ground. We can certainly say that there have been actions against Israel and its citizens, what one person may call terrorism or extremism and another person may call armed resistance to occupation and oppression, but these acts (however we refer to them) are not the root cause of the Israeli/Zionist misfortunes.

Nevertheless, it is less contentious to say, as Marwan Muasher (Jordan’s first Ambassador to Israel) stated in the mid-1990s that both parties have “an almost total lack of understanding of the depths of the insecurity they feel about each other” with Israel in particular perceiving themselves as living in a “hostile neighbourhood”. We could say that the Palestinians have also been living with hostile neighbours who became hostile burglars who became hostile landlords, though this would be to slip into the analogy marshland again.

The insecurity felt by each seems obvious, but it is also interesting to consider the reason for the insecurity: we could argue that the Palestinians feel a sense of insecurity (although this word feels somehow inadequate now) because their lands were dispossessed, and because they have faced harsh treatment ever since; the Israeli insecurity, on the other hand, is a feeling of being threatened by the hostile neighbourhood (and dispossessed peoples), but again this feels to me to be a result of their own actions in creating their state, though it must be emphasised that the creation of their state was in part due to persecution and feelings of insecurity and abandonment.

Caplan writes that the “Israeli sense of victimhood is a modern incarnation of historical, culturally ingrained fears, transmitted through generations of Jews around the globe: the feeling at times that the whole world is against us’”. These fears are “easily rekindled by verbal and physical attacks.” For the Israeli people, therefore, we can certainly say that their presence in a hostile neighbourhood, on another peoples’ land (a people whom they have silenced and oppressed) is a continuation of the fragility of their sense of safety. It is an unenviable situation for them – it must be incredibly difficult from a mental perspective to be born into this land, where the actions of the creation of your land were a kind of criminal undertaking – how much more at ease would they feel if the original inhabitants were all gone! But what then? More hostile neighbours – we’ll see to them too! And what then? Expand outwards – the whole world is a battlefield …

It is easy to see how an Israeli citizen would have a sense of vulnerability which could lead to a manic mindset for survival, and this in part could explain why such atrocities are carried-out. It is very easy for me to judge as an outside observer, or to try and weigh-up different narratives and opinion and sources of information, but there is no way of me knowing how I would behave if I had been born in Palestine (as an “Israeli”, that is), if all my friends and family, not to mention wider society and the institutions of the state, all embedded the fundamental messages of Zionism (in terms of the colonial-settler-racist character). I would like to think that with some critical thinking, some reading here and there, perhaps some travelling, that I might consider whether the state I lived in was behaving correctly. But who am I to speak? I live in England.

In Israel, the people are led to believe that the land is their birthright, that it had been stolen from them, that it had been disused or wasted by a barbaric and backwards people, that they had been persecuted to the point of near extinction as they roamed the Earth, that they had a glorious battle and victory to reclaim the land, that the whole world would like nothing more than for them to fail and to be destroyed, that they are constantly surrounded and targeted by vile brutes who would like nothing more than to rape their women and eat their children. If this was what you believed, if this is what you had been raised to believe, then anything is permissible against the Other. It is a matter of survival, of the survival of the fittest (and the most ruthless). But we are once more in dangerous territory to be so broad in our assertions. Similarly, for the Palestinians, we might think that what they have been born into would lead only to complete disaffectedness, or indeed a determination to fight for their freedom by any means necessary.

Caplan believes that there are 11 core arguments that are essentially “unwinnable” in a debate because the debate would become deadlocked. Each one deserves an in-depth answer rather than a one-sentence answer, but in the interests of brevity and controversy we will attempt this:

1. Who was there first, and whose land was it to begin with? If we say Israel/Jews, we legitimise the state of Israel, but are basing this on myth and compromised historical sources. We could reasonably say Palestinians and rely on more objective historical sources. If we take a position such as ‘land doesn’t belong to people’ in a broad sense then, perversely, this seems to serve the Zionist argument more than the Palestinian.
2. Was the Zionist solution to the Jewish question a Jewish variant of national revivals and struggles for liberation around the globe? Or was Zionism part of an aggressive European colonialist expansion into the Middle East, whose raison d’etre was to exploit, dispossess, or overpower the indigenous population? The second one: the views of Zionist Goliaths, including their founder Herzl, are aggressive and colonial, and they make direct reference to dispossessing the indigenous population. It could be argued that they also make reference to the elements of the first assertion, but the actions following the established state fit more neatly with colonial exploitation.
3. Did the British create or aggravate the conflict between Palestinian Arabs and Zionist Jews by unduly favouring one party over the other? Aggravate. The wheels were already in motion (with British support). We could even say that their actions (of favouring Zionists) led to a heightened distrust amongst Palestinians for the machinery of the state (and, by extension, global bodies such as the UN).
4. Were the protests and demands of Palestinian leaders legitimate expressions of an authentic Palestinian national feeling? Perhaps not at first – the Palestinian people had known only Ottoman rule for a few centuries and were finding their way in a rapidly changing and connected world (not least in terms of governance) – but we can say for certain that there has been for some time a legitimate expression of a Palestinian national feeling.
5. Did Zionism bring harm or benefit to the indigenous population of Palestine and the region? Zionism has brought harm to the majority of the indigenous population of Palestine and the wider region as many have been displaced and dispossessed. In addition, many have been murdered, including a great many children.
6. Is the [Palestinians’] [Arabs’] [Zionists’] [Israelis’] resort to violence justified, or is it to be condemned? In some instances the “violence” is justified (a rock being thrown at a tank, for example), but in many cases (most notably in the Zionist/Israeli actions, including a litany of war crimes) it is to be condemned in the strongest possible terms if any precedent is to be set for Humanity following this terrible time. It is extremely important to fact-check any assertions of violence and crimes (especially assertions made by Israel against Palestinians).
7. What linkage, if any, should be made between the destruction of European Jewry during the Holocaust and the question of who should rule Palestine/Israel? We can say that European guilt: 1) strengthened Zionist claims to rule Palestine in the sense of the political logistical support and 2) gave less power to the Palestinian voice (though the second need not have followed the first).
8. Was United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) Resolution 181 (Partition) a legitimate exercise of the authority of the United Nations in international law, and were the Arab states and the Palestinians wise to reject it? Even if it were a legitimate exercise of authority, and even if it were accepted by the Arab states, the actions of Israel (and supporting states such as the USA) over the last century indicates that this would only have moved the goalposts or that the Resolution would simply have been ignored.
9. How did Palestinians become refugees in 1948-1949? And why have they remained refugees for so long? Dispossessed and disaffected, the colonial system was imposed upon the Palestinians and remains in place supported by the imperial powers, a key part of their Great Game (or Great Grasp).
10. Is the land conquered by Israel in June 1967 on the West Bank of the Jordan to be considered “occupied territory,” and does Israel have the right to build Jewish settlements there? Occupied – yes. Right to build – depends. They can have the right to build if others have the right to try to tear it down.
11. What are the true intentions of the Palestinians and the PLO: To eliminate the Jewish state of Israel and replace it with an Arab state of Palestine? Or to create a Palestinian Arab state in part of historic Palestine, to coexist alongside an Israeli Jewish state? Not sure we can conflate Palestinians and PLO. First objective for the Palestinians is surely to survive; the next objective is to obtain a voice and to self-advocate for justice (in a fair and objective arena). Ultimate objective? Not my place to answer. We could say coexist, but their experiences may make them suspicious of Zionists/Israelis and the USA in any discussion or negotiation, not to mention in practice.

Each question requires a considered essay/investigation by an expert to adequately explore.

Caplan ends on 4 quotations (or “selected explanations”) about the conflict, two which we can say are broadly supportive of the Israeli/Zionist position, and two which are broadly in support of the Palestinian position. If Caplan has put these in because each one of us may be drawn to a particular one, which in turn would indicate our feeling about this conflict, then this is a well-deployed rhetorical device. I personally found myself drawn to the final quote, from Edward Said:

“I see no way of evading the fact that in 1948 one people displaced another, thereby committing a grave injustice. Reading Palestinian and Jewish history together not only gives the tragedy of the Holocaust and what subsequently happened to the Palestinians their full force but also reveals how, in the course of interrelated Israeli and Palestinian life since 1948, one people, the Palestinians, have born a disproportionate share of the pain and loss.”

If there can be little agreement on any other aspect of this conflict, including root causes, solutions, missed opportunities, reasons for suffering, unresolved difficulties and so on, we might find that both sides (as well as outside observers) can agree that the Palestinian people have suffered greatly since the nation state of Israel was created.