Israel's fury is disproportionate to the substance

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It’s not quite a golden rule, more a rule of thumb; but sometimes it appears that the degree of fury surrounding an issue bears an inverse relationship to the importance of the substance. Israel’s fury at the long-overdue statement by the UK government that sanctions will be imposed on imports from illegal Israeli settlements in the West Bank is clear and visceral. The UK’s condemnation of the illegality is welcome nevertheless; the attempt to conflate disapproval of illegality with antisemitism is nonsensical but just about par for the course. But what is the substance involved?

The amount of trade between the UK and Israeli West Bank settlements is hard to calculate, but certainly tiny. It’s not as if the ‘country of origin’ of settlement-grown dates is going to be emblazoned on the packaging as ‘illegal settlements in the West Bank’. There are rules, of course, banning such goods from being labelled as ‘product of Israel’, (although it seems to be a fairly widespread practice) and perhaps, as this report from the BBC suggests, the ban will act as something of a deterrent to that, although the co-operation of the Israeli authorities is something that maybe we shouldn’t rely on too heavily. Labelling them as having been produced in ‘Palestine’ is another route currently being used, and is accurate in geographical terms at least. One assumes that the intention of the UK government is not to target Palestinian-produced produce, but, again, that’s easier to say than implement.

Al Jazeera (not always the most reliable source, but this piece seems balanced and reasonably well-researched) estimates that total UK trade with settlements amounts to around £40 million annually, but the bulk of that is exports to the settlements (which are not covered by the ban), leaving a maximum of around £6 million annually in imports, a total which may well include goods produced by Palestinians as well as those produced by Israelis. Obviously, other countries imposing a similar ban (whilst facing the same problems of correctly identifying the affected goods) will increase the extent of the economic impact, but it still looks like pretty marginal sums.

It could be argued, not unreasonably, that it’s more of a symbolic gesture than an immediately effective one. No less welcome for that, but hardly an explanation for the ferocity of the response it has provoked. I suspect that the response is aimed less at undoing the sanctions being imposed now and more at mobilising opinion against any ratcheting up of sanctions in the future, when the current sanctions will, inevitably, have proved themselves to be of minimal effectiveness. How willing the UK Government is to go further in the face of that fury is the real test.

How and why does something become a moral issue?

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The UK’s Prime Minister has described his decision to recognise the state of Palestine as being a ‘moral responsibility’. It’s a nice rhetorical flourish to justify something which should have been done a long time ago, but it doesn’t explain how and why something which was apparently unacceptable to him last year suddenly became a moral imperative. Was it the non-stop killing of Gazans by Israel which tilted the balance? Maybe, but that doesn’t explain why so many had to die before it became a ‘moral’ issue. Perhaps it was the expansion of settlements in the West Bank and the driving out of Palestinians from the areas being settled, but that, too, has been going on for a long time. ‘Morality’ isn’t a numbers game; there’s no magic threshold at which deliberately killing civilians, including children, moves from being a practical issue to a moral one, no magic threshold at which the seizure of land becomes a moral issue. Framing it as a moral issue might sound good, but it also avoids serious action to bring about change.

The recognition is, in any event, more limited than it appears. No-one in their right mind would want to see Hamas forming the government of the newly-recognised state, but if the Palestinians have the right to a state (as Starmer argues), by what authority can the UK declare in advance that the people may not choose a government which includes a specified group or party? Although, on reflection, an international order which precludes certain individuals or groups from ever exercising power isn’t such a bad idea – there are a number of regimes across the world which I think we would be better off without. But who decides what is or is not acceptable, and how is it to be enforced? And if it is not a general rule, why should one ‘independent and sovereign state’ be singled out as uniquely having no right to choose whatever government it wishes? There are practical issues as well – banning an organisation is all well and good, but it’s easy enough for any organisation to disband and reform under another name.

There is one simple truth underlying what is happening in Palestine, and it applies to other conflicts as well. The world is not and never has been run on the basis of morality, and there isn’t even a single set of moral standards on which we all agree. It is actually run on the basis of raw power – in effect, ‘might is right’. He who possesses the power and armaments imposes his will on others. It’s a philosophy to which most of the world’s leaders (including Netanyahu, Trump, Putin, and, yes, Starmer himself) subscribe, in their actions if not in their words. As long as that remains true, those leaders talking of ‘moral responsibility’ is just window dressing.

Statehood includes the right to choose a government

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Whether or not Palestine meets the usual requirements to recognition as a state remains in doubt, as noted last week. Israel is certainly doing its utmost to ensure that there are no enforceable boundaries nor any functioning administration with which the rest of the world could deal. That doesn’t take away the right of Palestinians to have an independent state if they so choose, even if statehood may not be exactly the thing uppermost in their minds as Gazans desperately struggle for food. And it surely can’t be right that an occupying power – wherever in the world it might be – can frustrate the right of territories it occupies to gain statehood.

Opponents of recognition claim that it would ‘reward’ terrorism and somehow legitimise the horrific attack by Hamas which sparked the latest round of fighting. It’s true if, and only if, one’s historical perspective on Gaza starts on 7 October 2023. On any longer timescale, terrorism didn’t start then and has never been restricted to one side: indeed, Israel as a state only exists as an internationally recognised state within its current recognised boundaries as a result of terrorist acts by Israeli settlers in the 1940s. And even that is choosing an artificial start date – history doesn’t start and stop neatly at any point in time that we choose. Sir Starmer and others have declared that ‘we don’t negotiate with terrorists’, one of those statements which is only true up until the point when negotiation becomes the only rational option, and there are numerous historical examples of that.

The leader of the Tories has come up with another obstacle to recognition, claiming that the UK shouldn’t recognise a state led by people we consider to be terrorists. Superficially, it sounds almost rational – after all, does anyone really think that Hamas are the best people to be governing any part of Palestine? It is, though, a deeply colonialist attitude, perhaps not entirely surprising from someone who has newly thrown off any suggestion that she might in any way be Nigerian, with its implicit assumption that the rest of the world can or should determine who the Palestinians might want to represent them. And is she seriously suggesting that, if Hamas stand aside now to gain recognition and the people of Palestine subsequently choose to elect a government led by Hamas, or a similar group under another name, that the UK should then de-recognise Palestine? It doesn’t look like a position to which she has given much thought.

Actually, although it’s surely inadvertent on her part, maybe there is a non-colonialist point to be made here after all. The world might indeed be a safer place for humanity as a whole if certain governments were removed from power by international action (even if we might disagree about which ones). But a world in which states were required to abide by certain globally adopted standards (such as a declaration of human rights, perhaps?) and where governments could be removed by collective action by other states if they did not would require a few things to be in place, not the least of which are a global set of rules and the will and organisation to enforce them. Something about Badenoch’s attitude towards international law tells me that that is most definitely not what she has in mind. Which just leaves opportunistic posturing.

The appearance of action

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There have been suggestions in the past that Scotland could overcome the Labour-Tory Westminster blockage of a new referendum on independence if an election resulted in a majority for independence in the Scottish Parliament and that parliament then declared Scotland to be an independent country. There is no legal requirement for a referendum before independence; many of the UK’s former colonies never bothered with such niceties. Some fought for their independence, others negotiated for it, some (perhaps most notably the USA) simply declared themselves independent. But one of the most important tests of whether a country can become independent without the consent of the state currently in control is the question of international recognition. A declaration of independence which no other state recognised could turn out to be pretty meaningless, leaving the administration unable to trade effectively or make any other sort of international agreements, which is a major reason for the SNP having avoided trying it to date.

Sir Starmer is right to understand the importance of international recognition in the process of establishing a Palestinian state, and were the other essentials of statehood in place, it would be a powerful step to take. The problem is that they are not – and Israel is in the process of making sure that their absence is as irrevocable as possible. Between clearing large parts of Gaza of its population, and encouraging settlers to force Palestinians from their land in the West Bank, there are no longer any clear boundaries for a Palestinian State. There may be internationally agreed lines on a map, but they are largely meaningless. Nor is there much by way of a functioning administration, which could be recognised as the ‘government’ of the new state, in large parts of the territory.

Recognition is symbolic, but of little real effect compared to the other steps that the UK could take in terms of sanctions and cessation of military exports. And delayed recognition is even less effective – merely giving the Israeli government a clear timeline in which it needs to complete the elimination of any viable Palestinian state. But then, symbolism is probably all Sir Starmer really wants: the appearance of action without making any real difference. In fact, that phrase (“the appearance of action without making any real difference”) could well come to be the defining characteristic of Starmer’s Labour. And not just in relation to Palestine.

Is peace ever a bad thing?

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Sir Keir Starmer sems to have got both himself and his party into something of a twist over calls for a ceasefire in Gaza, preferring merely to support a ‘humanitarian pause’. From the point of view of those being killed, any halt to the shooting has to be better than nothing, but the two things are entirely different. A pause suggests that the killing will be resumed once the potential victims have had their deliveries of food, water and medicines – more a case of providing a final meal for the condemned than of granting them a reprieve. Principled it is not, and it’s been a pleasant surprise to see the extent of pushback against him from his party’s members.

His argument is an ‘interesting’ one. There is no point calling for a ceasefire, he says, when neither side is going to agree at this stage. It may well be true that they won’t agree, but it’s a curious argument against seeking a ceasefire, and he doesn’t seem to understand that it renders much of what he says on other issues completely pointless as well. If you believe that Sunak is not going to agree to an early election, then it’s pointless Labour calling for one. Indeed, there’s little point in the opposition ever calling for anything if they know that the government isn’t going to agree. They could probably sack half their press team if they stopped calling for things to which those to whom the call is made aren’t going to agree. Worse, he and many of the senior members of his party seem to have fallen into the trap of believing that anyone calling for a ceasefire is necessarily supporting one side in the conflict – and from his perspective, that would be the wrong side. The idea that some people might just want to stop the slaughter is clearly alien to him.

There’s something equally strange about the government’s obsession with trying to prevent any marches on Remembrance Day, because they would be somehow inappropriate. On my understanding of history, the whole point of Remembrance Day is to remember the fallen, celebrate the subsequent peace, and remind ourselves that we should never let it happen again. It’s hard to understand why calling for peace is in any way at odds with those sentiments. Except that the act of remembrance has been increasingly hijacked as a celebration of British exceptionalism, nationalism and military victory, rather than a tribute to those who lost so much. It’s true, of course, that not all of those marching are limiting their demands to a ceasefire, and that there are elements who are calling for a victory for one side in a long-standing and complex conflict. But most just want to stop the killing – is that really so inappropriate on the day we remember the fallen in so many other wars?

When did history start?

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It’s not the simple question it appears; whilst ‘history’ in its most general meaning has no discernible start other than the Big Bang, ‘history’ in another sense started when pre-history ended – i.e. when written records started to be made – and ‘history’ in the sense of ‘our’ history (whoever ‘we’ are in this context) is often attributed to a fairly arbitrary start date. Perhaps a more interesting question is not when history started but whether our understanding of history shapes our political views or whether our political views shape our understanding of history.

Take Wales, as an example. Many modern-day nationalists point to the year 383 when the Romans left Wales (or, as Dafydd Iwan puts it in ‘Yma o Hyd’, “Pan aeth Magnus Maximus o Gymru, yn y flwyddyn 383”). Does that view of the start date of Welsh history stem from a political outlook, or does the political outlook stem from the historical idea of an ancient people? It’s not a unanimous view, either way. Neil Kinnock infamously said that, "between the mid-sixteenth century and the mid-eighteenth century Wales had practically no history at all, and even before that it was the history of rural brigands who have been ennobled by being called princes"; which sounds as though ‘meaningful’ Welsh history only began with the Industrial Revolution. Does this view of the start date of Welsh history stem from the opinion that class differences are more important than national differences, or does a belief in the importance of those class differences start from a conviction that history really did start with the Industrial Revolution? Sometime in between those two dates, Wales became part of England, by dint of military conquest rather than any form of consent. The opposition of many to the idea of Welsh independence often carries an implicit belief that ‘our’ history started with that conquest – and that we should forget what went before.

The conflict about when history starts and the demand to forget what went before often derives from the fact that at different times, different tribes or peoples have occupied a particular land area. Take Palestine. For the people who today call themselves Palestinians, the defining event of modern history seems to be the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948, and the often violent expulsion of Palestinians from their homes and lands. But the Israelites (not exactly the same as Israelis, but sufficiently similar for the purposes of argument) were living in ‘Palestine’ in biblical times, until they were driven out (or worse, slaughtered): sometimes by Muslims, sometimes by Christians, as during the Crusades. Only a few decades before Magnus Maximus left Wales with his legions, the (then probably in a majority) Jewish people in Palestine were revolting against Christian rule and anti-Jewish discrimination. So which was the more important expulsion – that of the Palestinians in 1948 (being continued today with ever more encroachment by settlers on the West Bank) or that of the Jews centuries earlier? Go back even further, and the inhabitants would have seen themselves as neither Muslim nor Jewish; neither Israeli nor Palestinian. When, in short, do we consider that the history of Palestine, and therefore the right of one people or another to occupy the territory, started? And the corollary, as with Wales, is: from which point in time do we expect people to forget what went before?

The series of events which constitute ‘history’ are often undisputed; but their interpretation and relative importance can give rise to very different views about the present. In ‘Palestine’, we have two groups each apparently dedicated to the effective expulsion (or even extermination) of the other, both determinedly ignoring one of the main lessons of their own history which is that unresolved grievances never die with the individuals; they simply continue to fester, sometimes for centuries. What the rest of the world can do to help them realise that, and learn to live in the same space on the basis of mutual respect is not a simple question, and neither side seems to be in any great rush to make the concessions which would be required of both to end the cycle of killing. But whatever it is that we should be doing, it is most definitely not to take one side or the other and encourage the chosen side to believe that it can ‘win’; ethnic cleansing is ethnic cleansing, whoever does it and to whoever it is done. Taking one side is, though, where the UK finds itself. And there doesn’t seem to be a lot of difference between government and opposition on the question. Securing peace requires nuance, not absolutism.

Ultimately, they must negotiate rather than kill

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The reaction of the UK’s two largest parties to the past week’s events in the Middle East has been instructive in terms of their attitudes and priorities. Firstly, they were in competition to see who could issue the strongest condemnation of the BBC for calling Hamas militants rather than terrorists, as though the most important thing is the label used; and they followed that up by competing over who could take the hardest line against any show of support for the Palestinian side. They were, of course, in complete agreement that Israel should be supported in whatever way might be necessary. There was little room for nuance or debate: in this battle there are good guys in white hats and bad guys in black hats. Presumably, they think that it makes for good politics, but it does nothing to aid understanding, let alone reconciliation.

History, as ever, is complex. Whilst events are generally indisputable, their significance is always open to multiple interpretations. There is no doubt that Jews have suffered centuries of persecution and discrimination, including the attempt in parts of Europe in the last century to eliminate them as a people. Sympathy for a people who have suffered so much is natural, but it cannot give the state of Israel a free pass from any criticism when it comes to its own actions against others. Criticism of Israeli actions is not, in itself, anti-Semitism. Palestinians have been forced from their homes and land and, even today, Israel continues to encroach on land internationally recognised as being outside the boundaries of Israel and the property of Palestinians. But the grievance of Palestinians, in turn, cannot justify the sort of random killings that we saw last Saturday. A cycle of atrocity, counter-atrocity and counter-counter-atrocity ends up as a never-ending cycle of death and grief on both sides, from which there is no obvious escape.

Applying the label of ‘war crime’, whether to the random violence delivered by Hamas last weekend or to the retaliatory denial of food, water, medicines and power to millions of citizens in Gaza may be technically accurate, but it overlooks the fact that the real crime is war itself. The idea that a war – any war – can be fought according to a set of gentlemanly rules is to ignore the reality, which is that people – mostly, but not exclusively, young men, whether regular soldiers or less organised bands of fighters – are sent to kill or be killed, a situation in which they will feel fear, anger, and hatred towards those they are trying to kill, added to which the inevitable raised levels of adrenaline and the sight of comrades being killed can all too easily result in actions which few would call civilized being perpetrated by ordinary, average human beings.

The total elimination of Hamas – Israel’s stated objective – may buy a period of relative ‘peace’ to the extent to which it is successful. But experience suggests that it will come at a heavy price in lives and will last only until the next generation are old enough to pick up arms, when they will be driven by an even greater sense of grievance and injustice. Ultimately, the only lasting settlement will have to be a negotiated one, and the rest of the world has a responsibility to drive both sides in that direction, using whatever (peaceful) means it has at its disposal. Picking one side, and giving that side unconditional support, is not living up to that responsibility. Yet that’s where the UK is choosing to be. Regardless of which party is in power. Global leadership it most definitely is not.

Agreeing the definition is a side issue

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Godwin’s Law states that "As an online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Hitler approaches 1".  I don’t know whether online discussions have ever been rigorously investigated to determine the truth of the law, but casual observation suggests that it conveys at least a degree of truth.  And I’m not sure that it’s limited to online discussions either. 

There is a corollary to the law which states that “when a Hitler comparison is made, the thread is finished and whoever made the comparison loses whatever debate is in progress”.  The truth of that one is rather less certain in my mind; it more often seems to be the case that those involved simply double down on the positions that they take.  What is perhaps truer is that once a debate reaches that point it changes direction; it loses focus on the original question, whatever that was, and starts to turn around whether the comparison is fair or reasonable instead.  That in turn makes it a poor argument to use in most - perhaps all - circumstances.

Part of the fuss around antisemitism in the Labour Party revolves around whether the Labour Party should accept the internationally-recognised working definition of antisemitism; and one of the disputed clauses at the centre of that debate is that “drawing comparisons of contemporary Israeli policy to that of the Nazis” is, by definition, antisemitism.  I find myself in sympathy with those in Labour who doubt whether this should really count as antisemitism at all.  At a purely rational level, comparing the actions of two different governments in two different epochs and finding some apparent similarities is not at all the same thing as taking a hostile position against a whole people or religion.  I can understand, though, why accusing the descendants of those who most suffered the consequences of a particularly evil regime would be considered by them to be exceptionally insulting, and that alone should make people very wary about either drawing such a comparison or arguing about the detail of the wording.

Coupled with Godwin’s Law, it’s a wholly counter-productive line of argument as well; it diverts the debate away from the reality of the effects of Israeli policy towards the Palestinians and into questions of semantics and the fairness of the comparisons drawn.  The real issue is not whether Israeli policy is or is not similar to that of the Nazis, nor whether drawing such a comparison is or is not antisemitism: it is about the way that the Israeli government is treating Palestinians on a daily basis.  I don’t need comparisons with what someone else did in another place at another time to be able to see brutality and inhumanity in action, and such comparisons don’t add anything to my perceptions of what is happening.  And I really don’t understand why the Labour Party is allowing others to divert it into a row about definitions rather than the substance of the Palestine issue.