Why Apple was wrong to pull iPhone app at Israel's behest

The US computer giant removed the "ThirdIntifada" app under Israeli pressure.

The Arabic word intifada -- literally meaning "to shake off" but usually translated as "uprising" or "resistance" -- has strong political and historical connotations in the Arab world. The First and Second Intifadas were two popular Palestinian uprisings over the past three decades against the Israeli occupation.

That Apple attempted to capitalise on the social turmoil of these events by launching an iPhone application under the name "ThirdIntifada" is thus not the smartest move the company has ever made. The Arabic-language app was released a few days ago, and provided consumers with news reports and editorials, as well as details of upcoming protests and nationalistic Palestinian material.

Unsurprisingly, the Israeli government has been quick to take the offensive, and Apple has since removed the app at the request of the Iraeli state.

But this small and seemingly benign episode raises questions about Apple's political entanglements, and the extent of Israeli influence.

Israel recently appealed personally to Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg to take down a Palestinian Third Intifada page that had attracted more than 350,000 fans. After initially refusing, Facebook, too, complied.

Arguably, Apple should not have agreed to publish the app in the first place -- or at least changed its name to something less politically volatile. The company enforces stringent guidelines for the applications it approves, and has previously rejected or blocked apps that it considers offensive or inflammatory. Earlier this year, Apple pulled an app offering to "cure homosexuality" after more than 100,000 people signed a petition calling for its removal.

While the Intifada app may indeed be deemed offensive by some Zionist groups, it seems unlikely that such a fuss would have been made for a similar app detailing the Egyptian or Tunisian protest movements -- or, for that matter, the recent protests in Britain against government spending cuts.

The question here is not just about Apple's murky politics, Palestinian antagonism or Israel's far-reaching influence, but about the role of a state -- any state -- in pressurising an international organisation to withdraw one of their products. Two wrongs, as the saying goes, don't make a right.

Whichever way you look at it, this example sets a worrying -- if not wholly unexpected -- precedent for future dealings between Palestinians and the Israeli state.

Emanuelle Degli Esposti is a freelance journalist currently living and working in London. She has written for the Sunday Express, the Daily Telegraph and the Economist online.

Emanuelle Degli Esposti is the editor and founder of The Arab Review, an online journal covering arts and culture in the Arab world. She also works as a freelance journalist specialising in the politics of the Middle East.

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Theresa May’s stage-managed election campaign keeps the public at bay

Jeremy Corbyn’s approach may be chaotic, but at least it’s more authentic.

The worst part about running an election campaign for a politician? Having to meet the general public. Those ordinary folk can be a tricky lot, with their lack of regard for being on-message, and their pesky real-life concerns.

But it looks like Theresa May has decided to avoid this inconvenience altogether during this snap general election campaign, as it turns out her visit to Leeds last night was so stage-managed that she barely had to face the public.

Accusations have been whizzing around online that at a campaign event at the Shine building in Leeds, the Prime Minister spoke to a room full of guests invited by the party, rather than local people or people who work in the building’s office space.

The Telegraph’s Chris Hope tweeted a picture of the room in which May was addressing her audience yesterday evening a little before 7pm. He pointed out that, being in Leeds, she was in “Labour territory”:

But a few locals who spied this picture online claimed that the audience did not look like who you’d expect to see congregated at Shine – a grade II-listed Victorian school that has been renovated into a community project housing office space and meeting rooms.

“Ask why she didn’t meet any of the people at the business who work in that beautiful building. Everyone there was an invite-only Tory,” tweeted Rik Kendell, a Leeds-based developer and designer who says he works in the Shine building. “She didn’t arrive until we’d all left for the day. Everyone in the building past 6pm was invite-only . . . They seemed to seek out the most clinical corner for their PR photos. Such a beautiful building to work in.”

Other tweeters also found the snapshot jarring:

Shine’s founders have pointed out that they didn’t host or invite Theresa May – rather the party hired out the space for a private event: “All visitors pay for meeting space in Shine and we do not seek out, bid for, or otherwise host any political parties,” wrote managing director Dawn O'Keefe. The guestlist was not down to Shine, but to the Tory party.

The audience consisted of journalists and around 150 Tory activists, according to the Guardian. This was instead of employees from the 16 offices housed in the building. I have asked the Conservative Party for clarification of who was in the audience and whether it was invite-only and am awaiting its response.

Jeremy Corbyn accused May of “hiding from the public”, and local Labour MP Richard Burgon commented that, “like a medieval monarch, she simply briefly relocated her travelling court of admirers to town and then moved on without so much as a nod to the people she considers to be her lowly subjects”.

But it doesn’t look like the Tories’ painstaking stage-management is a fool-proof plan. Having uniform audiences of the party faithful on the campaign trail seems to be confusing the Prime Minister somewhat. During a visit to a (rather sparsely populated) factory in Clay Cross, Derbyshire, yesterday, she appeared to forget where exactly on the campaign trail she was:

The management of Corbyn’s campaign has also resulted in gaffes – but for opposite reasons. A slightly more chaotic approach has led to him facing the wrong way, with his back to the cameras.

Corbyn’s blunder is born out of his instinct to address the crowd rather than the cameras – May’s problem is the other way round. Both, however, seem far more comfortable talking to the party faithful, even if they are venturing out of safe seat territory.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

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