Show Hide image

John Pilger on the Dagan Plan and Gaza under fire

Every war Israel has waged since 1948 has had the same objective: expulsion of the native people. 

"When the truth is replaced by silence," the Soviet dissident Yevgeny Yevtushenko said, "the silence is a lie." It may appear that the silence on Gaza is broken. The small cocoons of murdered children, wrapped in green, together with boxes containing their dismembered parents, and the cries of grief and rage of everyone in that death camp by the sea can be witnessed on al-Jazeera and YouTube, even glimpsed on the BBC. But Russia's incorrigible poet was not referring to the ephemera we call news; he was asking why those who knew the why never spoke it, and so denied it. Among the Anglo-American intelligentsia, this is especially striking. It is they who hold the keys to the great storehouses of knowledge: the historiographies and archives that lead us to the why.

They know that the horror now raining on Gaza has little to do with Hamas or, absurdly, "Israel's right to exist". They know the opposite to be true: that Palestine's right to exist was cancelled 61 years ago and that the expulsion and, if necessary, extinction of the indigenous people was planned and executed by the founders of Israel. They know, for example, that the infamous "Plan D" of 1947-48 resulted in the murderous depopulation of 369 Palestinian towns and villages by the Haganah (Israeli army) and that massacre upon massacre of Palestinian civilians in such places as Deir Yassin, al-Dawayima, Eilaboun, Jish, Ramle and Lydda are referred to in official records as "ethnic cleansing". Arriving at a scene of this carnage, David Ben-Gurion, Israel's first prime minister, was asked by a general, Yigal Allon: "What shall we do with the Arabs?" Ben-Gurion, reported the Israeli historian Benny Morris, "made a dismissive, energetic gesture with his hand and said, 'Expel them'".

The order to expel an entire population "without attention to age" was signed by Yitzhak Rabin, a future prime minister promoted by the world's most efficient propaganda as a peacemaker. The terrible irony of this was addressed only in passing, such as when the Mapam party co-leader Meir Ya'ari noted "how easily" Israel's leaders spoke of how it was "possible and permissible to take women, children and old men and to fill the road with them because such is the imperative of strategy. And this we say . . . who remember who used this means against our people during the [Second World] War . . . I am appalled."

Every subsequent "war" Israel has waged has had the same objective: the expulsion of the native people and the theft of more and more land. The lie of David and Goliath, of perennial victim, reached its apogee in 1967 when the propaganda became a righteous fury that claimed the Arab states had struck first against Israel. Since then, mostly Jewish truth-tellers such as Avi Shlaim, Noam Chomsky, Tanya Reinhart, Neve Gordon, Tom Segev, Uri Avnery, Ilan Pappé and Norman Finkelstein have undermined this and other myths and revealed a state shorn of the humane traditions of Judaism, whose unrelenting militarism is the sum of an expansionist, lawless and racist ideology called Zionism. "It seems," wrote the Israeli historian Pappé on 2 January, "that even the most horrendous crimes, such as the genocide in Gaza, are treated as discrete events, unconnected to anything that happened in the past and not associated with any ideology or system . . . Very much as the apartheid ideology explained the oppressive policies of the South African government, this ideology - in its most consensual and simplistic variety - allowed all the Israeli governments in the past and the present to dehumanise the Palestinians wherever they are and strive to destroy them. The means altered from period to period, from location to location, as did the narrative covering up these atrocities. But there is a clear pattern [of genocide]."

In Gaza, the enforced starvation and denial of humanitarian aid, the piracy of life-giving resources such as fuel and water, the denial of medicines, the systematic destruction of infrastructure and killing and maiming of the civilian population, 50 per cent of whom are children, fall within the international standard of the Genocide Convention. "Is it an irresponsible overstatement," asked Richard Falk, UN special rapporteur for human rights in the occupied Palestinian territories and international law authority at Princeton University, "to associate the treatment of Palestinians with this criminalised Nazi record of collective atrocity? I think not."

In describing a “holocaust-in-the making”, Falk was alluding to the Nazis’ establishment of Jewish ghettos in Poland. For one month in 1943, the captive Polish Jews, led by Mordechaj Anielewicz, fought off the German army and the SS, but their resistance was finally crushed and the Nazis exacted their final revenge. Falk is also a Jew. Today’s holocaust-in-the-making, which began with Ben-Gurion’s Plan D, is in its final stages. The difference today is that it is a joint US-Israeli project. The F-16 jet fighters, the 250lb “smart” GBU-39 bombs supplied on the eve of the attack on Gaza, having been approved by a Congress dominated by the Democratic Party, plus the annual $2.4bn in warmaking “aid”, give Washington de facto control. It beggars belief that President-elect Obama was not informed. Outspoken about Russia’s war in Georgia and the terrorism in Mumbai, Obama has maintained a silence on Palestine that marks his approval, which is to be expected, given his obsequiousness to the Tel Aviv regime and its lobbyists during the presidential campaign and his appointment of Zionists as his secretary of state and principal Middle East advisers. When Aretha Franklin sings “Think”, her wonderful 1960s anthem to freedom, at Obama’s inauguration on 20 January, I trust someone with the brave heart of Muntader al-Zaidi, the shoe-thrower, will shout: “Gaza!”

The asymmetry of conquest and terror is clear. Plan D is now "Operation Cast Lead", which is the unfinished "Operation Justified Vengeance". This was launched by Prime Minister Ariel Sharon in 2001 when, with George W Bush's approval, he used F-16s against Palestinian towns and villages for the first time.

 

Why are the academics and teachers silent? Are British universities now no more than “intellectual Tescos”?

 

In that same year, the authoritative Jane's Foreign Report disclosed that the Blair government had given Israel the "green light" to attack the West Bank after it was shown Israel's secret designs for a bloodbath. It was typical of new Labour's enduring complicity in Palestine's agony. However, the Israeli plan, reported Jane's, needed the "trigger" of a suicide bombing which would cause "numerous deaths and injuries [because] the 'revenge' factor is crucial". This would "motivate Israeli soldiers to demolish the Palestinians". What alarmed Sharon and the author of the plan, General Shaul Mofaz, then Israeli chief of staff, was a secret agreement between Yasser Arafat and Hamas to ban suicide attacks. On 23 November 2001 Israeli agents assassinated the Hamas leader Mahmoud Abu Hanoud and got their "trigger": the suicide attacks resumed in response to his killing.

Something uncannily similar happened on 4 November last year when Israeli special forces attacked Gaza, killing six people. Once again, they got their propaganda "trigger": a ceasefire sustained by the Hamas government - which had imprisoned its violators - was shattered as a result of the Israeli attacks, and home-made rockets were fired into what used to be called Palestine before its Arab occupants were "cleansed". On 23 December, Hamas offered to renew the ceasefire, but Israel's charade was such that its all-out assault on Gaza had been planned six months earlier, according to the Israeli daily Haaretz.

Behind this sordid game is the "Dagan Plan", named after General Meir Dagan, who served with Sharon during his bloody invasion of Leba non in 1982. Now head of Mossad, the Israeli intelligence organisation, Dagan is the author of a "solution" that has brought about the imprisonment of Palestinians behind a ghetto wall snaking across the West Bank and in Gaza, now effectively a concentration camp. The establishment of a quisling government in Ramallah, under Mahmoud Abbas, is Dagan's achievement, together with a hasbara (propaganda) campaign, relayed through mostly supine, if intimidated western media, notably in the US, which say Hamas is a terrorist organisation devoted to Israel's destruction and is to "blame" for the massacres and siege of its own people over two generations, since long before its creation. "We have never had it so good," said the Israeli foreign ministry spokesman Gideon Meir in 2006. "The hasbara effort is a well-oiled machine."

In fact, Hamas's real threat is its example as the Arab world's only democratically elected government, drawing its popularity from its resistance to the Palestinians' oppressor and tormentor. This was demonstrated when Hamas foiled a CIA coup in 2007, an event ordained in the western media as "Hamas's seizure of power". Likewise, Hamas is never described as a government, let alone democratic. Neither is its proposal of a ten-year truce reported as a historic recognition of the "reality" of Israel and support for a two-state solution with just one condition: that the Israelis obey international law and end their illegal occupation beyond the 1967 borders. As every annual vote in the UN General Assembly demonstrates, most states agree. On 4 January, the president of the General Assembly, Miguel d'Escoto, described the Israeli attack on Gaza as a "monstrosity".

When the monstrosity is done and the people of Gaza are even more stricken, the Dagan Plan foresees what Sharon called a "1948-style solution" - the destruction of all Palestinian leadership and authority, followed by mass expulsions into smaller and smaller "cantonments", and perhaps, finally, into Jordan. This demolition of institutional and educational life in Gaza is designed to produce, wrote Karma Nabulsi, a Palestinian exile in Britain, "a Hobbesian vision of an anarchic society: truncated, violent, powerless, destroyed, cowed . . . Look to the Iraq of today: that is what [Sharon] had in store for us, and he has nearly achieved it."

Dr Dahlia Wasfi is an American writer on Iraq and Palestine. She has a Jewish mother and an Iraqi Muslim father. "Holocaust denial is anti-Semitic," she wrote on 31 December. "But I'm not talking about the World War II, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad [the president of Iran] or Ashkenazi Jews. What I'm referring to is the holocaust we are all witnessing and responsible for in Gaza today and in Palestine over the past 60 years . . . Since Arabs are Semites, US-Israeli policy doesn't get more anti-Semitic than this." She quoted Rachel Corrie, the young American who went to Palestine to defend Palestinians and was crushed by an Israeli bulldozer. "I am in the midst of a genocide," wrote Corrie, "which I am also indirectly supporting, and for which my government is largely responsible."

Reading the words of both, I am struck by the use of "responsibility". Breaking the lie of silence is not an esoteric abstraction, but an urgent responsibility that falls to those with the privilege of a platform. With the BBC cowed, so too is much of journalism, merely allowing vigorous debate within unmovable, invisible boundaries, ever fearful of the smear of anti-Semitism. The unreported news, meanwhile, is that the death toll in Gaza is the equivalent of 18,000 dead in Britain. Imagine, if you can.

Then there are the academics, the deans and teachers and researchers. Why are they silent as they watch a university bombed and hear the Association of University Teachers in Gaza plead for help? Are British universities now, as Terry Eagleton believes, no more than “intellectual Tescos, churning out a commodity known as graduates rather than greengroceries”?

Then there are the writers. In the dark year of 1939, the Third American Writers' Congress was held at Carnegie Hall in New York and the likes of Thomas Mann and Albert Einstein sent messages and spoke up to ensure that the lie of silence was broken. By one account, 2,500 jammed the auditorium. Today, this mighty voice of realism and morality is said to be obsolete; the literary review pages affect an ironic hauteur of irrelevance; false symbolism is all. As for the readers, their moral and political imagination is to be pacified, not primed. The anti-Muslim Martin Amis expressed this well in Visiting Mrs Nabo kov: "The dominance of the self is not a flaw, it is an evolutionary characteristic; it is just how things are."

If that is how things are, we are diminished as a civilised people. For what happens in Gaza is the defining moment of our time, which either grants war criminals impunity and immunity through our silence, while we contort our own intellect and morality, or it gives us the power to speak out. For the moment I prefer my own memory of Gaza: of the people's courage and resistance and their "luminous humanity", as Karma Nabulsi put it. On my last trip there, I was rewarded with a spectacle of Palestinian flags fluttering in unlikely places. It was dusk and children had done this. No one had told them to do it. They made flagpoles out of sticks tied together, and a few of them climbed on to a wall and held the flag between them, some silently, others crying out. They do this every day when they know foreigners are leaving, in the belief that the world will not forget them.

John Pilger, renowned investigative journalist and documentary film-maker, is one of only two to have twice won British journalism's top award; his documentaries have won academy awards in both the UK and the US. In a New Statesman survey of the 50 heroes of our time, Pilger came fourth behind Aung San Suu Kyi and Nelson Mandela. "John Pilger," wrote Harold Pinter, "unearths, with steely attention facts, the filthy truth. I salute him."

This article first appeared in the 12 January 2009 issue of the New Statesman, The destruction of Gaza

Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

There's a revolution out there - and Labour must be part of it

Re-ordering the new industrial revolution needs a labour movement.

I’ll confess I was very flattered to be asked to appear at the Hay Festival. I didn’t realise my musical talent had been so apparent in my parliamentary speeches...

When I heard it was for the philosophy stream I was more intimidated than flattered.

After all I am a politician, and also an engineer.

Two of my favourite philosophers, John Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir, both had a negative attitude to engineering, seeing it as mechanistic rather than existential.

De Beauvoir once wrote: “He was living like an engineer in a mechanical world. No wonder he had become dry as a stone.”, while Sartre once said: “The dreary world of means, and of the means of means, was left to the engineers.”

And Heidegger, not a fave philosopher but an interesting one, wasn’t exactly enamoured of technology either…

But I am very glad Hay thought I could contribute something.

After all philosophy is often the locomotive of revolutions, and it is a revolution that we need.

Now I say we need a revolution that’s in the full knowledge that we already live in revolutionary times: work is changing. Production is changing. The means of production are changing. Capital is changing. Climate is changing.  Communication is changing. What we consider value and how we value it, is changing.

It’s a revolution, but so far the only heads on the block are working class jobs.It’s a revolution in which the powerful are taking power.

Georges Danton, architect of the French Revolution, said that “in revolutions authority remains with the greatest scoundrels”. But then, he was executed by his fellow revolutionaries.

Well we want to overturn that precedent, by having a democratic digital revolution.

In calling for a digital revolution, I am of course criticising the status quo. What sort of revolutionary would I be if I were not? But I don’t want you to think I’m criticising technology.

I am a tech evangelist; that is why I spent twenty years working around the world as an electrical engineer building the mobile, fixed and wireless networks which now form the internet.

I am a digiphile, but digital power has not even begun to be distributed fairly.

That happens. Writing developed over three thousand years ago, but it wasn’t until 1970 that 50 per cent of the world could be described as literate.  

And in the week that the Bible was finally published in an Emoji translation – yes that really had to happen – it’s worth remembering that the initial revolutionary impact of literacy – and the reason many learnt to read - was the ability to read the Bible for yourself, and then make your own decisions about eternal salvation. Did Christ really say it was for sale with the Pope as intermediary?

So reading, as opposed to being preached at, freed people to make their own decisions about the meaning of life.  I believe digital can have an equally existential impact on our lives today.

But right now it is very much the case that people are still being preached at, told what to do with their technology. Worse, told what technology to do what with, and told what it means for them.

But that is going to change, I hope.

I am hopeful because I believe we are at several tipping points today, and the result could be an avalanche.

When I lived in Washington DC and worked in Virginia every day I’d drive out there along the George Washington Highway and I’d pass the George W Bush Centre for Intelligence and I’d smile every time! But it was George’s Defence Secretary, Rumsfeld, who most famously spoke about known unknowns, known knowns and unknown unknowns

I always think that what is known is like a geographic empire, as it grows the frontier with the unknown also becomes larger. So we know more what we don’t know.

You could say the known unknowns become greater. There are also different ways of knowing and with technology the barrier between knowing and experiencing is lowered.

Take that image of the little boy drowned on a beach in Turkey Now we ‘knew’ that people were drowning in that desperate attempt to cross into Europe. We knew it was the reality of many lives, just as we ‘know’  that starvation and disease are the reality for many of our fellow human beings.

But when that knowledge was made real for us in Europe through that image on our screens then something changed, something tipped and suddenly Angela Merkel’s decision to welcome migrants to Germany became heroic and not foolhardy.

We have a long way to go still before we achieve a real understanding of the lives of ‘others’  but Aylan Kurdi shows that something known in an abstract sense but unknown experientially can achieve a kind of virtual reality in our lives through technology– and that authenticity can drive change.

And we know that virtual reality is only at the very beginning of its technological evolution. Wouldn’t it be ironic if the search for authenticity of Heidegger and other philosophers was finally to be realised through technology?

In any case there is real hope that through technology, through digital, we will have great understanding of each other and each others’ lives.

And yet, there are reasons to be less hopeful.

Think about the narrowness of those who are curating your experiences, determining what you know and how you know it.A lot of tech’s assumptions and alignments are basically to young, male rich people.

That’s the demographic which has designed the hardware, the operating system, the applications and the business models that they depend upon. Why does that matter?

A basic understanding of  statistics – which by the way is an essential part of any decent mathematical or technical education – teaches you that you have to choose a representative sample, with the same level of diversity as in the population it’s trying to represent.

In the past few years more than half of smartphone sales have been outside of the US and Europe, and it’s predicted that future growth in smartphone sales will be driven mostly by Asia and Africa.

Yet all these tech trained people apparently think it’s acceptable to design our futures in a monocultural and entirely unrepresentative environments.

It’s not only tech of course.  Half of cinema ticket sales in the US go to what are counterintuitively called minorities and yet the Academy Awards were all white. So how can we ensure a more democratic revolution, when it’s not the people who are driving it?

Well let’s look at another revolution. 

I live a few hundred yards from where George Stephenson built the rocket locomotive, which was literally the power in that first and so far only Northern Powerhouse. As an engineer who grew up the industrial North and now spends a lot of time politicking in the service sector South I often think of that industrial revolution and how it changed the world.  Mainly I believe for the better, though perhaps, as Zhou Enlai might have said, it’s too early to tell. Certainly there are now many more of us living better for longer. The industrial revolution gave rise to huge economic growth.

But the benefits were not shared, at first. There were decades of unregulated exploitation of the poor by the rich, the weak by the strong.  It took organisation and social activism, mainly in the labour movement, often at great personal and community cost, to get some of that growth shared. To take nine year olds out of cotton mills and put them in school, for example. That kick started the role of the state as a positive agent of change.

As Mariana Mazzucato points out in the Entrepreneurial State, “the history of our own development shows that governments should not be shy to get involved and take risks to create innovation that is fairly distributed”.

The challenge now is not to wait 100 years for the rewards of this digital revolution to be shared, to make sure we do not leave a generation as the modern day equivalent of cheap and expendable child labour, going down digital pits and cleaning virtual looms.

We should never forget that while change is inevitable progress isn’t.

What does that mean for the future economy?

It is often described as the sharing economy. It sounds very cuddly. All of us on a patchwork sofa, sharing a nice cup of tea. Or it’s called the gig economy – we’re all creative artists enjoying the freedom to perform…

I prefer to call it the new intermediaries economy. Not as cuddly or cool but more accurate.

Back in the nineties we often talked about how digital would disrupt business models.  As Director of Strategy for a tech startup I had to learn the lovely word disintermediation to describe how the power of the internet would take out all those middle men – and occasionally middle women – reducing costs and liberating value.

We would not need travel agents or estate agents or any ‘agency’ any more. We would be our own agents. And the internet did disintermediate. Travel agents are gone, estate agents are under threat and newsagents make their money out of alcohol sales.

But what is not talked of is that it has created a whole new set of intermediaries. And they make money out of you.

When you get into an Uber cab the driver is not sharing her car with you, she is selling you space in it.  And Uber is the intermediary. Just as Facebook is the intermediary as you sell your data to advertisers in return for optimal likes, or Google, selling your click-throughs in return for the perfect search. The fact that you do not see yourself as a Facebook or Google customer, does not stop them turning a buck out of you.

Just as the old ones did, the new intermediaries make their money by adding value to a product – and that product is you! Indeed I guess you could argue that turning the customer into the product is the ultimate act of disintermediation.

And what the new intermediaries have in common is their platform network economics. Now as a network engineer, I know that networks tend to concentrate power. That’s why electricity, telecoms and rail networks tend to be in the public sector or heavily, heavily regulated.

But networks can also decentralise and distribute power, literally and metaphorically, flattening relationships. Think the Arab Spring, theyworkforyou, citizen science or 38 degrees.  So which is it?  Are these new intermediaries an opportunity to concentrate or flatten power relationships? Is Uber exploiting drivers or freeing them from the high fees and barriers to entry of the taxi cab sector?

Luciano Floridi, Professor of Philosophy and Ethics of Information at the Oxford Internet Institute, tells us we need to lose the obsession with what the individual is doing and instead think of the process, and whether everyone involved has access to justice.

Instead of being obsessed with the individual Uber driver or Google searcher we need to look at the system.

Tom Chatfield, the author and tech commentators, says that “technology connects us to each other as never before, and in doing so makes explicit the degree to which we are defined and anticipated by others: the ways in which our ideas and identities do not simply belong to us, but are part of a larger human ebb and flow.”

Now that emphasis on our collective identities and actions and our access to justice reminds me of another movement.

The labour movement.

And here’s where the different themes I have covered come together – because yes there is an over-arching narrative.  Re-ordering the new industrial revolution needs a labour movement.

The labour movement was born to redistribute the rewards of the first industrial system when it became apparent that taking on the actions of employers one by one or the concerns of  individual workers one wasn’t going to cut it.

Now when working people criticise technological change they tend to be called Luddites. That’s a great way of shutting you up. Who wants to be a Luddite? Well, the labour movement was driven by Luddites.

In the Making of the English Working Class, E P Thompson says "I am seeking to rescue the poor stockinger, the Luddite cropper, the "obsolete" hand-loom weaver, the "utopian" artisan… from the enormous condescension of posterity."

Luddites were a part of the emerging labour movement which saw that their labour, and therefore their lives, were being stripped of decency through inhumane and unfair industrialisation.  Through direct action, yes, breaking looms and machines but also through organisation, promoting workers education, public libraries, and empowerment they helped inspire debate and negotiate  how the new system should work.

So our job is again to break open the looms of the current day industrial revolution.

Reveal the power relationships driven by the new intermediaries and hidden by sharing and gigging slogans.  And then to empower the citizen worker consumer in these new power relationships.

These are political questions and pretending they’re not political, pretending they are just market issues, is a bit of a fiction. Tom Watson has already spoken on the need for a progressive response to technological change and Jeremy Corbyn launched Labour’s Workplace 2020 initiative.

We need the labour movement to drive a revolution fit for the digital age. I believe there are five major battlefields around which our movement needs to mobilise.

Firstly, Identity – who controls your identity and why isn’t it you?

I’ve had a really interesting series of exchanges with Google for them to explain why downloading an app from Google Play requires a Google account. They use it to identify and control your device. Did you know that? Do you know who else is using your identity and why?

Secondly, who controls your data and why isn’t it you?  In recent exchange with the Secretary of State for Energy and Climate Change she told me that smart meter data would be owned by the energy companies. Good luck with controlling your soon to be smart home then.

Thirdly, whose algorithm is it anyway? This week a number of newspapers reported that Uber knows when your battery is dying and that its analysis has also told it that when your battery is dying you’re more likely to accept higher - or surge – prices.

“We absolutely don’t use that to push you a higher surge price, but it’s an interesting psychological fact of human behaviour.” They said.

Uber chooses – apparently – not to integrate this correlation into its algorithm. But you have to trust them on that one because the algorithm is secret, just as the algorithms which brings a certain page to the top of Google search or a certain face to the top of a webdating site are secret. On the last one, I am reliably informed that one well known dating site has optimised its dating algorithm for short term relationships in the knowledge that that optimises your subscription rate to the site. 

How do you feel about that?

Fourthly, back to that Uber driver.  The labour movement put employees in a more powerful position in labour relationships. The Uber driver is certainly not in a position of power in relationship to Uber.   

How do we change that?

And finally digital inclusion. Digital democracy without digital inclusion is a return to an 18th Century view of democracy as amongst to a narrow economic elite. Well the Tories are certainly making a success of that!

We need a democratic revolution and we need it now.

Before the system hardens and solidifies in ways which can’t be undone. Or at least not peacefully.

That’s why we believe the Digital Economy Bill now passing through parliament, should be addressing this, instead of a haphazard collection of things the government think they can get through without annoying Brexiters.

That’s why the labour movement will be at the forefront of this revolution.

We must not miss our chance to make the future fairer. As Alexis de Tocqueville said “the health of a democratic society may be measured by the quality of functions performed by private citizens.” 

What is the quality of functions that the system now allows for, your data owned by others, your experiences curated by others, your identity defined and controlled by others and you a product?

What Labour must do is not reject the future but negotiate it.  And in so doing we will be building a better future for us all.

This article is adapted from Chi Onwurah’s talk at the Hay Festival