A very special mission

Why was Tzipi Livni's visit to the UK accorded privileged status?

Last month, on the day that changes in universal jurisdiction law went into effect, Israel's former Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni said she "received a phone call" from UK Ambassador to Israel Matthew Gould telling her "there is no longer a warrant for my arrest".

Yet when Livni arrived in Britain on Thursday, something went wrong. In what was billed as a "test case" for a law designed to remove the threat of arrest for visiting Israeli officials, Livni only avoided a warrant due to a legal assessment by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO) that she was on a "Special Mission".

In a statement released Thursday lunchtime, the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) revealed that it was the Special Mission status of Livni's visit that led the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP) to refuse to "give his consent to the private prosecutor to make an application to the court for an arrest warrant".

Some incorrectly interpreted this as the DPP blocking an attempt to arrest Livni; in fact, as a spokesperson for the CPS had confirmed to me, what prevented an arrest warrant being issued was the Special Mission status - there was no decision regarding the prospect of conviction.

According to the CPS's statement, the DPP took into account a case earlier this year when the High Court considered, among other things, the "legal effect" of the Special Mission certificate. But by citing this ruling, more questions are raised about what happened Thursday.

Evidence submitted to the High Court included a letter written by the FCO itself in January 2011, which described a Special Mission as "a means to conduct ad hoc diplomacy in relation to specific international business", whose "fundamental aspect" is "the mutuality of consent of both the sending and the receiving States to the Special Mission". In his ruling, Lord Justice Moses said that "the Special Mission represents the sending State in the same way as a permanent Diplomatic Mission represents the State who sends it", and called it "vital" that "the consent which must be previously obtained is consent to a Special Mission" (my emphasis). Moses added: "Not every official visit is a Special Mission".

Yet Livni, a foreign opposition politician who was not part of a wider government delegation, was afforded Special Mission status. How were FCO legal advisers able to make this analysis, if, as appears to be the case, there was no prior agreement between the British and Israeli governments that Livni's visit would be a Special Mission?

While Foreign Secretary William Hague had publicly extended an invitation to Livni to visit the UK, the exact nature of her visit is unclear. According to pro-Israel advocacy group BICOM, it is they who "facilitated" Livni's visit.

Questions remain to be answered. The FCO only stated that Livni's visit had Special Mission status after a request for an opinion by the Attorney General Dominic Grieve. As the Jewish Chronicle reported, when Grieve was in the opposition he promised to "fix the situation if the Tories win power". In February 2010, Ken Clarke and Edward Garnier met with Livni in Israel and pledged to change the law once in government; they are now the Secretary of State for Justice and Solicitor-General respectively.

There are concerns about the timing of the Special Mission announcement. According to Daniel Machover of Hickman and Rose Solicitors, once the original application for an arrest warrant was made on Tuesday 4 October, there was constant contact with the prosecutor until all went silent for a few critical hours on the morning of Thursday 6 October. What happened to those assurances that the change in legislation would not affect the ability for cases to be dealt with in an appropriately timely manner? In addition, the CPS said that the FCO certificate of Special Mission status was received - and dated - Thursday morning. Yet by 7.30am, Livni was already in London and being interviewed on the Today programme. If the certificate's dating is irrelevant, when had the Special Mission status been agreed?

If the British and Israeli governments had secretly agreed that Livni's visit would be a Special Mission beforehand - though there is no indication this is the case - then the idea that this was a "test case" for the new universal jurisdiction legislation is a sham. If, on the other hand, the declaration of Special Mission status was a contingency option adopted as events unfolded, then it suggests that the new legislation does not protect those who actually have a case to answer.

During her visit, Livni told Hague she hopes his "hospitality for me today will herald the arrival of IDF officials" in Britain. Former Israeli general Doron Almog, who previously escaped arrest by staying on his plane at Heathrow, has announced his intention to visit the UK "early next year". The questions raised by this week's visit need answers, and soon.

Ben White is a freelance journalist and writer, specialising in Israel/Palestine

Ben White is an activist and writer. His latest book is "Palestinians in Israel: Segregation, Discrimination and Democracy"

Felipe Araujo
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Hull revisited: What happens when a Brexit stronghold becomes City of Culture?

We report from Hull, to find out if you can replace the kind of nostalgia that led to a Leave vote with cultural investment.

At 75 metres long, the offshore wind turbine blade erected across Queen Victoria Square, in the heart of Hull, is a sculpture intended to mark a new chapter in the city’s history. For the next 12 months, Hull, a city of more than a quarter of a million people in the northeast of England, will be the UK’s City of Culture.

The 28-tonne blade hails from the local Siemens plant. The German technology company employs around 1,000 people in the area, making it Hull’s biggest single employer.

Seen up close in this context – laid dormant in the middle of a town square instead of spinning up in the air generating energy – the structure is meant to remind passersby of a giant sea creature. It is also, I’m told, an allusion to Hull’s rich maritime history.


All photos: Felipe Araujo

Nostalgia is a big thing in this part of the country. At one point, Hull was the UK’s third largest port but technology and privatisation drastically changed that. The battle over cod fishing with Iceland in the waters of the North Sea 40 years ago has also dealt a major blow to a region with a long and proud trawling tradition.

People here still talk about a bygone era when the fishing industry provided jobs for everyone and there was enough money to go around.

Fast forward to 2017, and the country’s new capital of culture is the same city that voted 67 per cent in favour of leaving the EU last June. Its new-found prestige, it seems, is not enough to erase years of neglect by a political class “too busy for commoners like us”, as one resident puts it.

“More than a message to Brussels, it [the Brexit vote] was a message to Westminster,” Paul Leeson-Taylor, a filmmaker born and bred in Hull, tells me. “For the first time in a long time people in Hull felt like they had the chance to change something, and they took it.”

But while speaking to people on the high street and hanging out with locals at the Community Boxing Club in Orchard Park, one of the city’s most deprived areas, there is one word that consistently popped up in conversation – more than any specific policy from Westminster or the much-hated rules “dictated” by Brussels. Foreigners.

According to official figures, Hull’s population is 89.1 per cent white British. Still, immigration is big on people’s minds here.

During my two-day stay in the city, I find myself being the only black person in most places I visit – I’m certainly the only black guy at the boxing club. So when someone begins a sentence with “I’m not racist but…”, I know a tirade on immigrants is about to ensue.

“There are just too many of them,” Nick Beach, an estate agent whose Polish clientele is a big part of his business, tells me as he is about to teach a boxing class to local children. Beach was born in Shepherd’s Bush, in West London, but has been living in Hull for the last 20 years.

“When I go down there these days and go into Westfield shopping centre, it is very rare you get an English person serving you now,” he says. “I just find it disappointing that you go into your capital city and you are a minority there.”

These are the much-discussed “left behind”, a white working-class community that has gained particular prominence in a time of Brexit and Donald Trump. Under economic pressure and facing social change, they want to have their say in running a country they claim to no longer recognise.

For Professor Simon Lee, a senior politics lecturer at the University of Hull, immigration is only a superficial layer when it comes to explaining the resentment I witness here. For him, the loss of the empire 70 years ago is still something that as a country Britain hasn’t come to terms with.

“The reason for us to be together as a United Kingdom has gone, so what is the project?”

As destiny would have it, a foreign company will now play a major role on Hull’s economic future, at least in the short term. In the wake of the Brexit vote, there were widespread fears Siemens would pull out of the region and take its factory elsewhere. With the massive blade looming large in the background, Jason Speedy, director of the blade factory in Hull, assures me that isn’t the case.

“The Brexit decision has made no difference. We have made our investment decision, so Siemens, together with the Association of British Ports, has put in £310m. It’s all full steam ahead.”

As Hull becomes the country’s cultural hub for the next few months, the hope is that its residents stop looking back and start looking forward.

For Professor Lee, though, until there is a complete change in the power structures that run the country, the north-south divide will remain – with or without the EU. “The way you kill nostalgia is to have something new,” he said. “The reason why people here are nostalgic is because there is nothing to replace it with.”

Felipe Araujo is a freelance journalist based in London. He writes about race, culture and sports. He covered the Rio Olympics and Paralympics on the ground for the New Statesman. He tweets @felipethejourno.