Digging for truth?

Earlier this year I led a group visit to Israel and posted reflections on a number of elements.

One that still haunts me was the couple of hours we spent being propagandised at the so-called City of David. You can read my thoughts and detect my discomfort in this and other subsequent posts.

Ahdaf Soueif does a comprehensively better and more incisive job in today’s Guardian. It makes for painful reading and will no doubt enrage those who think criticism of Israel amounts to criticism of God.

I still struggle to understand the incomprehension of people who quote the prophets’ cry for justice while kicking helpless people out of their homes and off their land for questionable archaeological reasons.

 

“God does not kill” (Israel 5)

The last couple of days here have been full and intriguing. Visits to many of the places associated with the life and ministry of Jesus have been ameliorated by the relative absence of crowds of other tourists. Frustration with the weak wi-fi signal at the place we are staying (Beatitudes) is minor – especially when realising that this is one problem Jesus didn’t have to address.

Our last full day began in Nazareth and Cana, but from there we drove to Haifa to meet Archbishop Elias Chacour, top man of the Melkite Church. The last time we came here we met him in Ibillin – this time we went to his home where the welcome was very warm.

Chacour’s story is well known through his books – particularly Blood Brothers. He is powerful, charismatic, but totally humane. He began by asking why we had come to the Holy Land in the first place. He wondered aloud why anyone goes to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (Resurrection) in Jerusalem: “He is not there!” He listened to our questions and then told his story.

This is where political opinion about Israel-Palestine from a safe distance begins to look thin and inappropriate. This is not a man who speaks in terms of ideology or rights, but has lived through dispossession, witnessed murder, suffered injustice, fought against the dehumanising powers of authority and become more resolutely Christian through it all. His observations include:

• If ‘a thousand years are as a day’ to God, then Jesus was here the day before yesterday. We need a sense of perspective about time: Israel is a tiny baby in terms of time – and the story is not yet finished; indeed, it has barely begun.
• No one is born a Muslim, a Jew or a Christian: we are all born the same – as a baby made in the image of God. That’s the bit we forget first when our ideologies feed our raison d’etre.
• The Beatitudes tell us not to be passive, but rather to ‘straighten yourself up’, get out and get your hands dirty for the sake of the Kingdom of God. You can’t say to his ‘children of Gaza’, “Be happy because you mourn!”
• If you want peace and security, you have to pursue justice and integrity. And there is no justice where some are privileged over others. (Arab Israelis pay the same taxes as others, but get hugely reduced service by comparison – too many examples to cite here).
• Why is Chacour known in his passport as an ‘Arab National’ when no other people is known by their language? He is a Palestinian Arab Christian citizen of Israel, but his official papers say he is nobody and belongs nowhere.
• Christians in Israel-Palestine are united in their differences/denominations – not divided by them. So, whatever Rome or Canterbury or any of the Patriarchs might say, many of these Christians share worship and Eucharist together. Pressure strips away the rubbish and leaves us with what really matters.
• Violence only creates more violence: if you use violence, you will become the victim of violence.
• Justice is not partial: the Jew must have justice and security as well as the Palestinian – but not at the expense of the Palestinian who seems to be paying the price for other peoples’ persecution of the Jews. (Chacour’s childhood village welcomed the Israeli soldiers, housed them and fed them… only to see their promises abandoned and find themselves as refugees from their own homes and villages.)
• If friendship with Palestinians means hatred of Jews, then we don’t want your friendship. Love cannot come at the expense of hate.
• We should not waste time trying to pull down the wall that divides and imprisons in Israel – rather, we should build bridges until there are so many bridges over it that the wall will disappear.

More could be said, but I have to get on the bus. Maybe I’ll edit later and put the pictures in when I get home. In the meantime, Chacour leaves us with a serious challenge to Christian commitment as a way through the conflict that rends this wonderful place.

 

Beer, oil and desert (Israel 4)

After Yad Vashem yesterday we drove to the last Christian village on the West Bank, Taybeh. I last visited this remarkable village two or three years ago and was pleased to have the opportunity to come back.

Fr Raed has been the Roman Catholic priest here for the last seven years. The huge problem for Palestinian Christians is that there is little or no work, little housing, few prospects and not a lot of hope. So, they are leaving in droves. Taybeh used to have a population of 3,400; now there are 1,300.

How, then, to encourage local young men (particularly) to stay and maintain this Christian presence here? So far the priests (three of them) have:

• bought an olive press and market olive oil in French supermarkets – this year they will make a profit for the first time;
• brew and market beer (a bit girly to the taste, but does the business!)
• provide employment in all sorts of services
• built and run a home for elderly people (a new phenomenon in a culture of extended family relationships and responsibilities).

In addition Fr Raed has established a youth choir of 50 young people and they ahve joined with youth choirs from the Muslim and Jewish communities elsewhere to record a CD. Along with the other preists in Taybeh, they now celebrate Easter together (on the Orthodox date) in order to present a united witness to Muslims who cannot understand why Christians celebrate several staggered crucifixions/resurrections.

The man is a fast-talking, over-energetic ball of enthusiasm. But he laces his talk with theology and economics, casting fresh and refreshing light on all sorts of issues. He even has a PhD in ‘Violence and non-violence in Islamic Tradition and Thought’.

What was most remarkable about this encounter, however, was his insistence that we should not be afraid for him or his people. They will stay and be a Christian presence and witness in land that is being abandoned by many because of the difficulty of living there with any hope for bringing up children and forging a future. He said:

We will stay here in a small community and under the shadow of the cross.

This echoes the stance of my friends in Zimbabwe.

But, interestingly, he turns on its head the notion that those who suffer are somehow ‘weak’. No, he says:

We are not weak people – we are strong people because we choose to stay here. Let the weak leave or stay at their new home in front of the television: the strong stay here.

This would sound like bravado in the mouth of some; but, it is spoken with both humility and determined confidence by Fr Raed. He is adamant that visitors like us should not take sides in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but support those who seek a third way, the way of peace and coexistence on the basis of a common humanity.

Interestingly, this plea echoes the similar one we heard in Bethlehem a few days ago – a plea we have heard only from Palestinian Christians and nobody else.

Well, that powerful experience left us with much to discuss last night before we left Jerusalem to head off – via Wadi Qelt, Jericho and the wonderful Bet She’an (all further reminders that empires come and go, but empires never listen to their prophets) - to Galilee where we will spend the next few days before returning to London.

On the way out of Jerusalem we passed a ‘restaurant’ which dared to call itself ‘Doggy Style’ – its subheader was ‘Hot Dog Heaven’. That was a relief…

 

A memorial and a name (Israel 3)

It is impossible to visit the Holocaust Museum at Yad Vashem and not be moved, horrified, ashamed. It is one of those places where you feel it is an intrusion to talk, breaking the silence which can be the only real response to genocide.

I have visited concentration camps and studied the literature. I have spoken to all sorts of Germans who responded in diverse ways to Nazi totalitarianism. I have read deeply and thought long about the Holocaust. But, when you walk into Yad Vashem a good deal of the rationalising has to be left behind in order to be impacted afresh by the almost inconceivable inhumanity of systematic cruelty.

The most moving memorial (to my mind, at least) is that dedicated to the Warsaw uprising. On the left is a bronze relief of the 19 year old and others who led the armed uprising within the ghetto – resisting the crimes of the Nazis with all the power and arms they could muster. On the right there is another bronze relief of Jews being led to slaughter, accompanied by German guards who have been given no faces. These two reliefs display two different responses to the Nazi evil: resistance or acceptance of their fate.

After the War, many survivors struggled with this. Which was the right response? And was one wrong for choosing the other option? Should the Jews have simply succumbed to the power of military abuse; or should they have fought against it? The answer offered here is that there is no answer: there is simply the fact that people responded differently.

The more worrying aspect is the refusal of the artist to give the German sentries faces. Apparently, he felt that we couldn’t humanise such monsters. The last time I visited Yad Vashem I asked our academic guide if this was wise – that if we simply dismiss such people as ‘monsters’, we don’t have to deal with the human capacity (in all of us?) to collude in such monstrosities. It is only when we give the ‘monster’ a face that we can begin to understand and respond to what they have done. Only then can we begin to face the common human problems of cruelty and violence.

However, as indicated by the above, the brain does have to be engaged at Yad Vashem. Sir Jonathan Sacks has spoken of the dangers of ‘memory becoming history’ – when the ‘story’ becomes a commodity useful for justifying other ends, easily disconnected from reality and turned into an ideological weapon. Miroslav Volf has written eloquently about the ways in which ‘memory’ is turned into a justification for violence and the exercise of power.

And this is the struggle that goes on at a place like Yad Vashem: how does the story of the Holocaust relate to how states behave now?

As you enter there is a quotation by Kurt Tucholsky:

A country is not just what it does – it is also what it tolerates.

I saw this a couple of days ago – painted onto the wall that imprisons Bethlehem. To whom does it apply? Just Nazi Germany – or Israel and other states that oppress other people? Or does the incalculable suffering of the Jews in Europe excuse all subsequent abuses by Israel? This is a tough question that inflames passions, but goes to the heart of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Alongside all this, Yad Vashem celebrates the people who resisted the dehumanising violence of the Nazis. It points out that two-thirds of those who planned the Final Solution had university degrees and of them half had doctorates in philosophy, law, politics and economics. Yet it also quotes the German pastor who said:

We don’t know any Jews; we know only human beings.

We see recorded the humanity of a priest in Mlyny who – and it must have seemed like a futile and miniscule gesture at the time – “instructed the village undertaker to write on a note the numbers that were tattooed on the arms of the murdered inmates he buried”. It is this that brings us back to the greatness of Yad Vashem: this place records the names of all those who suffered and died in the Holocaust, remembering their names and ensuring that although their lives ended in anonymity they will never be forgotten. The fact that they lived will be recalled and honoured.

Primo Levi wrote:

Then for the first time we became aware that our language lacks words to express this offence, the demolition of a man… we had reached the bottom. It is not possible to sink lower than this… Nothing belongs to us anymore: they have taken away our clothes, our shoes, even our hair… They will even take away our name.

Even where, as in Mlyny, the name is now a number, Levi was to be proved wrong. Yad Vashem insists that the memory of these people will be honoured – whether they resisted or succumbed. The question is now: how does the power of this act in Yad Vashem affect not just our view of the past, but our behaviour in the present and our potential for the future? Or are we simply condemned to repeat history because although we remember, we do not learn – and we see the cruelty in the faceless others and fail to look in the mirror?

There is a cattle truck standing on the end of rails that hang over the precipice outside the museum. On the wall in front of it is inscribed a poem found written in pencil inside the sealed railway car. It reads:

Here in this carload / I am Eve / with Abel my son. / If you see my other son / Cain son of man / tell him

What are we to tell him?

 

Suffer the little children (Israel 2)

Empires come and go. That’s what history teaches us. It also teaches us that those empires that focus on their longevity as their primary goal eventually implode. This is why the repeated and resounding message of the Old Testament is that the people who call themselves ‘God’s people’ must focus on justice, mercy and faithfulness – longevity might or might not be the result, but that is not important.

Empires that make their own security their primary goal will usually compromise justice, mercy and faithfulness and the empire will find its days numbered – however strong and powerful it looks to be at the moment. Hubris carries within its womb the seed of its own destruction.

This is one of the conversations running today as our group of visitors to Israel-Palestine continues to explore the land of Abraham, Moses, David, Jeremiah, Amos and Jesus. But there are also encouragements to be found in sometimes surprising places and for sometimes surprising reasons.

The Princess Basma Hospital sits on top of the Mount of Olives in territory that is indisputably Palestinian. The hospital (which also comprises a school) does brilliant work with disabled children and their families. Children are admitted with their mother for anything between two weeks to two months. The mothers are taught to reject the shame of bearing a ‘not-perfect’ child, while also being given programmes and routines for the caring and nurturing of their child once back at home. They do particularly good work with hearing-impaired children, but they also have a workshop for making artificial limbs.

The hospital is now suffering from diminished interest from Christians and the restrictions imposed by the Israeli occupation of Palestinian territory and the difficulty of movement. It costs $120 per day per child, but only some of the money comes from the Palestinian Authority and insurance.

The encouragement comes from the fact that the Israelis and the Palestinians have to cooperate to some extent for the sake of these children. The children can’t be schooled in Israeli schools (where Hebrew is the main language), so the Israelis assist with medical procedures and enable the Palestinians to provide the schooling.

Another case of the children (the most vulnerable) forcing the adults to work together?

Today was a day of contrasts. The relative peace of Gethsemane – and the place where Jesus looked over to Jerusalem and wept at its blindness to its vocation and its fate – to the messy disordered order of the Church of the Resurrection (known in the Western churches as the Church of the Holy Sepulchre – do a theological deconstruction of that and the implications of the choice of emphasis…).

Yet, everywhere you go the paths are worn and the steps polished by the feet of people trying to connect somehow with the God who in Jesus entered the mess of it all, walking and weeping in these places. As long as this earth continues, people will still come here, treading the dust, feeling rocks and living with the mystery of the Incarnation in a place of occupation and ambiguous justice.

Our conversations are, however, haunted by the injustice of Israeli ‘creep’ in land that they know is not theirs. The Jewish graves are taking land up the side of the Mount of Olives – land that will not readily be ceded in any future ‘peace’ process: you don’t surrender the places where your dead are buried (unless, like the Palestinians, you have no choice). Secondly, Israeli settlements are being established in places that are clearly not Israeli – a claim to place that will be hard to dislodge, whatever is agreed on high.

The settlement below is just a bit further down the road from Princess Basma Hospital – firmly in Palestinian territory. Its flag can be seen from everywhere in Jerusalem.

The weeping over Jerusalem is set to continue where justice and mercy and faithfulness are made subservient to the craving for longevity.

 

Both sides now (Israel 1)

Sometimes it is hard to be impartial, hard to listen to two sides of an argument. But being in Bethlehem and Jerusalem today makes the apparent intractability of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict depressingly real.

I am leading a group of 37 people from England on a visit to Israel-Palestine. I last brought a group just over two years ago and this time we are putting more effort into listening to those trying to live in this small land peacefully.

This morning we visited Bethlehem. These pictures are of the wall you have to go through to get in to the town.

Most residents of Bethlehem cannot get permits to leave the town. This wall is more than twice the height of the Berlin Wall.

In Bethlehem we listened to stories of hope. One project (located right up against the wall) we visited was absolutely clear on several points:

• Don’t just curse the darkness – light a candle. Being bitter about the ‘imprisonment’ will not change the situation, but will do damage to those who are bitter as well as their enemies.
• Create spaces for children to play and for olive trees to grow – speaking of a fertile future.
• These Palestinian Christians (who also work among Muslims) wish to live alongside Jews in Israel, sharing the land. They are not against Israel, but they are against the occupation of their land.
• There should be no hierarchies of pain or victimhood – these create only a vicious circle of hate and resentment and the circle must be broken.
• It is vital to work with young people and women, helping them cope with trauma and work for a dignified future.

Claiming, “we have an incurable malady called ‘hope’”, these people had one major complaint about the ‘west’:

Your media ignore the hundreds of constructive, positive and hopeful projects being run in difficult conditions, but a single molotov cocktail thrown by a young man will bring blanket coverage in your media. Why?

In the afternoon we visited the archaeaological sites at the City of David. This is run by Zionists. It was great to see Warren’s Shaft and Hezekiah’s Tunnel (which I realise sound like medical complaints) and see the work done to uncover these ancient ruins. But the preceding 3-D film presentation and accompanying guide narrative were shocking to many in our group who had come here with sympathetic and open minds.

We were given a perfect example of teleological story telling: start with your conclusion (the land belongs to the Jews and Jerusalem was, is and always shall be the ‘eternal capital city’), then fit the story to justify your end point. Not only was history re-written, the Bible selectively appropriated and political assumptions dripped in throughout, but there was a startling blindness to the inconsistencies in front of our eyes.

Jerusalem is a city of peace and a city of justice, we were repeatedly told. Yet, in all the hours we were there, not one mention was made of the Palestinians on the other side of the valley, those who had been removed from their homes in order to allow the excavations to be done or the injustices being done to Palestinians in relation to their land

If the people do not live justly, they will lose their city, said our guide – without either a hint of irony or any awareness of what was obvious to us observers.

This is just the first day and we are encouraging the group not to make too many judgements until we have seen, heard and experienced more. But, as we looked out over Bethlehem and saw the city-sized settlements (‘new facts on the ground’) dominating the lands, many in our group wondered why this is allowed to happen, why international agreements can be simply ignored and why people who have suffered grievously can be so willing to inflict suffering on others.

We had a de-brief session this evening to begin to process some of these questions and reactions. But, there is a long way still to go.

‘Pray for the peace of Jerusalem’ (Psalm 122) has taken on new meaning and urgency for many in our group.

 

Crossing the Jordan

Reading Walter Brueggemann on ‘The Land’ immediately before taking a group to Israel-Palestine has been very suggestive. Among many of the thoughts buzzing around my head as we leave tomorrow morning will be his observation on the change that happens to people when they leave ‘gifted’ land and enter ‘to-be-managed land’.

When the Israelites crossed the Jordan they were warned never to forget that they had been slaves and sojourners in land that was theirs. If they ever forgot this, they would become oppressors and defenders of what they ‘possess’. He says:

Israel is no longerrecipient of land but controller, no longer creature of grace but manager of achievement. (p.53)

This follows the recognition that ‘the sojourner becomes a possessor’ and needs to ask what is required in order to exercise just ‘possession’ with the mindset and behaviour of one who never forgets that the ‘possession’ was ‘gift’.

As we move around, seeing sights and meeting people, our minds will need to be alive to this sort of question – not just in relation to Israel and Palestine, but in relation to how any of us see the material world, what we ‘own’ and how we steward our resources for the common good.

I’ll try to post while I am there, but can’t promise. Last time I went I used public computers and couldn’t get used to the screen running from right to left (as Hebrew script does). So, I’m taking my netbook and travelling in hope.

 

Wealth. What’s it to you?

A year or two ago I was reading the Economist on a flight from somewhere I can’t remember to somewhere else I can’t remember when an advert grabbed my attention. It was by Barclays Bank and depicted a blonde on a white horse riding off into the sunset away from the reader. The caption underneath read: ‘It’s being able to tell the world to get lost.’ Underneath in blue were the words: ‘Wealth. What’s it to you?’ This advert featured in loads of sermons thereafter as an example of a culture that was finally exposing itself unashamedly in all its sad individualism.

I recalled this today because Barclays announced today that it was cutting 2,100 jobs globally of which over 500 would be from its Wealth business. I am sorry for those whose lives will be disrupted by this, but any business that can brazenly advertise itself as in that series of adverts has lost its way.

The drive for personal wealth and security that has characterised the consumerist society has been rooted in an individualism that idolises the self at the expense of society. Now, I was a student of the Soviet Union and am no stranger to Marxism-Leninism and its appalling corruptions of the human being. Yes, I understand that the individualism that values every individual person and refuses simply to subsume the individual into the mass is vital and noble and indispensible. But the individualism that reduces other people to commodities or obstacles is corrupt. My own fulfilment or security (financial or otherwise) is not the ultimate good.

What really upsets me about this sort of culture is that it runs counter to the ethic of Jesus according to which we are called to lay down our life in order that the world might see who God is and what God is like – the God who lays down his own life for the sake of the world. The Gospel pleads that we find ourselves in serving other people and is rooted in a God who in Jesus of Nazareth opts into the world and does not (as in the advert) run away from it. Presumably, Christians are to be christ-ian and opt into the world, rejecting the sort of Barclays fantasy that thinks one’s own security can be ensured in isolation from that of others.

That remains (by extrapolation) my fear not just for individual people, but also individual states. Wherever one stands in relation to the Israel-Gaza crisis, at a pragmatic level it is hard to see how this obscenity will perpetuate anything other than insecurity for Israel. A short-term war will feed the hatred and guarantee the thirst for revenge for generations to come.

Which I guess puts job losses at Barclays into perspective.

 

Unanswered questions…

Mark B still hasn’t addressed the questions I put!

I am not going to get drawn in to a discussion of the etymological or ideological roots of anti-Semitism – Mark and I will clearly disagree. I will simply rebutt the notion that ‘Antisemitismus’ and ‘Judenhass’ are synonymous.

The Archbishop of Canterbury and others have made statements – links are:

Archbishop’s statement on Gaza

The Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, has made the following statement regarding the current situation in Gaza:

The spiralling violence in Gaza tragically illustrates the fact that the cycle of mutual threat and retaliation have no lasting effect except to reinforce the misery and insecurity of everyone in the region. I want to express my grief and sympathy for the innocent lives lost in this latest phase of violence.  People of all faiths in this country will want to join their voices to the statements of the Christian Muslim Forum and the Council of Christians and Jews in urging a return to the ceasefire and efforts to secure a lasting peace.  We must unite in urging all those who have the power to halt this spiral of violence to do so. 

Those raising the stakes through the continuation of indiscriminate violence seem to have forgotten nothing and learned nothing. It must surely be clear that, whilst peace will not wipe out the memory of all past wrongs, it is the only basis for the future flourishing of both the Israeli and Palestinian peoples. The recent statement by the Patriarchs and Heads of Church in Jerusalem reflects a clear awareness that there can be no winners if the current situation is allowed to persist.  Its continuation can only condemn ordinary Palestinian and Israeli citizens to the prospect of another year of fear and suffering.

Urgent humanitarian needs have arisen through the attacks on Gaza and Israel and they demand a generous response to local appeals for support, such as that issued by the Anglican Diocese of Jerusalem for its hospital in Gaza.  But this humanitarian response, both local and international, needs to be matched by redoubled efforts in the political sphere.

The prophet Zechariah declared, “Not by might and not by power, but by my spirit says the Lord of Hosts”.  The New Year is an opportunity for a new initiative that will set the tone for what lies ahead. Religious leaders, most particularly those of the region, have an urgent responsibility in supporting the search for peace and reconciliation.  But it is the political leaders and opinion-formers who hold the key to implementing the necessary changes that can bring hope.  Can they not agree a period of truce as the New Year begins, so that the communities of the Holy Land may once again explore how common security might at last begin to replace the mechanical rhythms of mutual threat?  Might the outgoing and incoming Presidents of the USA combine to make such an appeal and pursue its implementation?  

The Anglican Communion worldwide stands alongside other religious communities and humanitarian organisations in its commitment to supporting any such initiative. Without such a sign of hope, the future for the Holy Land and the whole region is one of more fear, innocent suffering and destruction.

The statement by Imam Dr Musharraf Hussain and The Rt Revd Dr Richard Cheetham, Co-Chairs of the ‘Christian Muslim Forum’ is available at: http://www.christianmuslimforum.org/subpage.asp?id=325

The statement by The Rt Rev Nigel McCulloch, Chair of the ‘Council of Christians and Jews’ is available at: http://www.ccj.org.uk/

The statement by the Patriarchs and Heads of Church in Jerusalem is available at: http://www.lpj.org/newsite2006/news/2008/12/gaza-message-en-headschrches2008.html

The statement by the Anglican Bishop in Jerusalem about Al Ahli Arab Hospital is available at: http://www.j-diocese.org/newsdetail.php?id=3386

 

Israel and Gaza (again)

Is Mark B the only person reading this stuff? We are almost engaged in a one-to-one conversation! But, I’ll respond to his two comments anyway.

Firstly, I am surprised that he doesn’t engage at all with what is going on in Gaza, but picks up on my use of the phrase ‘anti-Semitism’. Embarrassingly, he will only have to look in some standard books on Hitler, World War Two, German politics, etc to find the term exactly as I have used it. His definition might suit his purposes, but it is selective at the very least and misleading at best.

Being USA-based, he might not be aware of the sort of UK experience that made me make the remark in the first place. I’ll give one example to illustrate the problem (and I write as one who studied German history and politics, who works in relation to Germany a lot, who engages in interfaith dialogues involving inter alia good Jewish friends in Israel, who has worked in the intelligence services in Britain as a Russian and German linguist and who is concerned to keep communication clear). I am the Anglican (Church of England) Co-chair of the Meissen Commission which for the last 20 years has worked at bringing the Church of England and the Evangelische Kirche in Deutschland closer together. I took over my role at the beginning of 2007 and inherited the quinquennial report of the previous Commission. The report contained one page on a matter of concern in England: the experience of Germans (mostly children) who still receive abuse becasue of the Second World War. It was observed that history teaching in England seemed to focus on Hitler and the period 1933-45. This was simply noted as an area for possible future attention. I was shocked to find that a newspaper mention of this led to me receiving letters and emails claiming I was denying the Holocaust, was anti-Semitic (sic) and should be ashamed.

How can a reasoned debate take place (about anything) when this sort of reflex charge is instantly laid? In some quarters it is impossible to criticise Israeli policies without being accused of anti-Semitism – whihc, of course, is intended to close down any discussion, debate or critique. I maintain that that is unacceptable.

Secondly, Mark’s reasoning in his second comment that “‘civilian’ causalties from targeted Israeli bombing in a crowded place are comparatively low, and considerably less proportionately than the deaths from British or German bombing of cities in WWII” is, frankly, staggering. Firstly, why is the word ‘civilians’ in inverted commas? The five sisters killed in their sleep were clearly not in uniform. Or do they not count? Secondly, to argue that the numbers killed are comparatively less than in WW2 city bombings is surely not intended to justify Israeli bombings? That would be like arguing that Pol Pot was relatively harmless becasue he didn’t do as much damage as Stalin. It might be true, but it doesn’t begin to address the ethical issue at hand.

The main point I was making (and will reiterate) is that this action will not give Israel what it wants. One can only invite just treatment when you offer justice to the other – in the same way as security for oneself can only be possible if security is also offered to the other. So, the question remains: how will this current disproportionate barbarity enable either Palestinian or Israeli to have to have a more secure future?