What to expect from the Florida primary

A win for Mitt Romney looks inevitable -- but this does not mean the end of Newt Gingrich.

Newt Gingrich's victory in South Carolina looked as if it could reset the Republican primary race. But the day of the Florida primary has arrived, and Gingrich does not appear to have retained that momentum.

It's essentially a two-horse race between Mitt Romney and Gingrich, as the two other candidates, former Pennsylvania senator Rick Santorum and Texas congressman Ron Paul, have chosen not to campaign in Florida -- a notoriously expensive state. They are planning to conserve resources for other caucuses where they are more likely to win delegates.

While the polls have shown a broad range of results in the Sunshine State ahead of today's poll, Mitt Romney emerges at the clear favourite. A Quinnipiac University poll out yesterday gave him 43 per cent to Gingrich's 29, while a separate poll from Marist University and NBC News gave them 42 and 27 respectively. A Suffolk poll at the weekend gave Romney a 20 point lead.

This is hardly surprising, given Romney's far superior organisation, funding, and staffing. His team has spent more than $14m on television advertising in Florida, primarily attacking Gingrich. By contrast, the former Speaker of the House of Representatives spent around $3m.

Romney's tone over the past few days has reflected this. He has been increasingly confident, telling a crowd of supporters: "I'm beginning to think we might win tomorrow."

Gingrich, on the other hand, told a rally that "we are pitting people power versus money power", as his chances of winning the nomination and becoming the frontunner dwindle. However, he sounded a defiant note in a television interview, when he said that "in the long run, the Republican Party is not going to nominate ... a liberal Republican."

The crucial factor is the size of Romney's victory. While a double figure win could be difficult for Gingrich to come back from, if it is five points or less, and some late polls (including Insider Advantage) suggest it could be, then that could be spun as a big positive for the former Speaker, given his opponent's superior resources. The demographic of the vote split will also be relevant. As Rebecca Lloyd explained on the Star Spangled Staggers last week, Florida is an exceptionally diverse state. If Gingrich wins among poorer voters and Tea Party supporters, he can still sell himself as the candidate of the right-wing, depicting Romney as a moderate appealing to elites and centrists.

Florida, which defied party rules to move up its primary in the nomination schedule and lost half its 99 delegates as punishment, is not going to be a "decider" state. While a victory for Romney here looks overwhelmingly likely, as Nate Silver explains on the Five Thirty Eight blog, he is still vulnerable in several of the states voting in February. A Romney win will set the candidate back on course and cement his frontrunner status, but it does not mean that the battle with Gingrich is necessarily over.

Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

ROBERTO SCHMIDT/AFP/Getty Images
Show Hide image

Unlikely sisters in the Gaza Strip

A former Jewish settler in Gaza recalls her childhood friendship with a young Palestinian.

It was well after midnight, one summer night in 1995, when Inbar Rozy, a 13-year-old living in the former Israeli settlement of Alei Sinai in the northern Gaza Strip, heard her parents answer the phone. Sitting up in bed, surrounded by potted plants, candles and fairy dolls lit by shafts of light from a nearby security outpost, Inbar listened closely.

“I could hear everyone talking around me, making calls,” Inbar said when we met recently in Nitzan, southern Israel. When she got up to find out what was happening, her parents told her to make up a second mattress. As dawn broke, they led into the room a young woman carrying a small bag and wearing a black shirt and jeans. “She had shoulder-length dark hair dyed with red henna and beautiful eyes – big, black with thick eyelashes,” Inbar told me, smiling. “[She was] quiet. She looked scared.”

The woman was Rina (her surname cannot be given for security reasons), a talented artist in her early twenties studying at a local art college, where she had fallen in love with a Christian boy. For Rina, coming from a traditional family, marrying a non-Muslim would be strictly forbidden.

When her parents found out, they were furious and forbade her from seeing her boyfriend. But her male cousins felt this wasn’t enough. Earlier on the day the girls first met, Rina’s cousins had attempted to kill her in retribution for her perceived “honour crime”. Seeing that another attempt on her life was likely, Rina’s father called a relative, who in turn called Inbar’s father, Yossef, a friend of many years. There was no doubt she had to leave. Ironically, a Jewish settlement protected by the Israel Defence Forces was the safest place in Gaza for her to be.

In 1967, Israel seized the Gaza Strip from Egypt during the Six Day War. In time, it settled 21 communities on a third of the land, with a population of 8,000 by 2005. Soldiers guarded the settlements from 1.5 million displaced Palestinians, tens of thousands of whom were displaced in 1967 and moved to live in nearby refugee camps. In Gaza, before Israel’s ultimate withdrawal from the Strip in 2005, relationships between Israeli settlers and Palestinians were fraught. True, many Palestinians worked in Israeli settlements, earning wages higher than elsewhere in the Strip, but the two communities lived largely separate lives.

In the mid-1990s, even after the Oslo Accords, violence was simmering. Israeli military incursions increased with the outbreak of the Second Intifada in 2000. Thousands of home-made Qassam rockets were launched by Palestinian militants at settlers and those living in southern Israel. Security measures hardened. The veteran Israeli journalist Amira Hass, who spent several years living in Gaza, describes neighbourhoods that were “turned into jails behind barbed-wire fences, closed gates, IDF surveillance, tanks and entry-permit red tape”.

And yet, in spite of the forced segregation, Inbar’s family enjoyed close links with their Palestinian neighbours. Inbar’s father worked as an ambulance driver, and on several occasions he helped transport those who lived nearby for emergency medical treatment in Israel. “Every Tuesday, my father’s Jewish and Arab friends would come to our house and we’d eat lunch together,” Inbar remembered.

Given the gravity of Rina’s situation, she couldn’t leave the house. Secrecy was paramount. The girls spent weeks together indoors, Inbar said, chatting, watching TV and drawing. “I’m not sure that as a child I actually understood it for real,” she said. “She taught me how to paint and sketch a face from sight.”

Almost as soon as Rina arrived, Inbar’s family began receiving anonymous phone calls asking about her. “My dad told me, ‘Don’t mention anything about Rina. Say you don’t know what they’re talking about – because otherwise they’ll come and kill us,’” Inbar said.

While the girls got to know each other, Inbar’s mother, Brigitte, found a women’s shelter in East Jerusalem for Rina. Whereas today Gaza is closed off by a military border under heavy surveillance, at that time it was porous. Brigitte drove Rina in to the capital, where she was given a new name and identity that would enable her to begin a new life, on condition that she contact no one in Gaza.

Today Inbar, who is 33, works at the Gush Katif centre in Nitzan – a museum dedicated to the memory of the Israeli settlements in Gaza. Despite her parents’ objections, the family was evacuated in 2005. Unlike most settlers in Gaza, some residents of Alei Sinai were determined to stay on, even if that meant forfeiting their Israeli citizenship. “I have no problem with living as a minority in a Palestinian state,” one of Alei Sinai’s inhabitants, Avi Farhan, told the Israeli daily Haaretz at the time.

Inbar now lives in Ashkelon, a city of 140,000 in southern Israel, and finds the big city alienating, especially when she recalls the warm relationships that once existed in Gaza. “I’ve never felt less secure,” she told me.

Years later, she learned that Rina had developed cancer and died. “The day before Rina left . . . she drew a portrait of me,” she said, describing how her friend had outlined, in charcoal strokes, the features of the teenager. Her parents packed the portrait with all their belongings in a shipping container the day they left Gaza. Soon after, the container was destroyed in a fire.

“I think if people had given it a chance . . . they would have had these kinds of friendships,” Inbar said, looking back. “We’d get along fairly well if we didn’t look at others as the monsters over the wall.” 

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism