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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: Lizzie Porter
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“They are trying to silence us”: the long fight to identify Bosnia's war dead

More than 30,000 people were missing at the end of the Bosnian conflict in 1995. Scientists are making a last-ditch attempt to identify and bury the 8,000 for whom the search continues.

D Sarzinski does not have a normal job. That becomes obvious in a warehouse smelling of dirt and dust, next to a cement factory on the outskirts of Sanski Most, a small town in northern Bosnia-Herzegovina.

Inside, lying on collapsible tables – the sort you might find at a village cake sale – are the bones of people killed in the 1992-1995 Bosnian conflict. Arranged on metal shelves around the walls, body bags are filled with thousands more teeth, skulls and human bones.

This is the Krajina Identification Project (KIP) facility, one of the centres where Sarzinski works as a forensic anthropologist for the International Commission on Missing Persons (ICMP). Since 1996, the organisation has assisted state authorities in Bosnia and Herzegovina with excavation and identification of war victims’ bodies.

Some of them were found in the mud and slush of mass graves. Other bodies were buried in forests or gardens. In the 1992-1995 conflict, in which the death toll reached 100,000, people died everywhere.


Photo: Lizzie Porter

By pushing for legislation to seek out and recognise the dead, the ICMP has helped to identify some 23,000 of the 30,000-plus people who went missing during the war. Most of them – some 15,000 individuals – have been identified using DNA matches with surviving relatives.  

But for the past four years, Sarzinski and her colleagues have been painstakingly going through more than 3,000 sets of remains – piles of bones, skulls, teeth, clothes and other belongings – from graves which were exhumed years ago, but that somehow slipped through the system. The skeletons in Sanski Most are among these remains. In ten mortuaries around the country, Sarzinski’s team has found 101 new people.

“I am very proud of that number”, says Sarzinski. “That is 101 people who would otherwise not have been identified.”

It is not her job to pinpoint the cause of death – that is up to pathologists. Rather, she and her team develop profiles of who these piles of bones once were.

“You have these families who insist on coming [here] and seeing the remains,” she says. “You cannot prevent them from doing so because it’s their legal right. For some of them, it’s their closure.”

Once identified, victims are given dignified burials in proper graves, the latest of which happened on July 20, in the northern town of Prijedor.

Mirsad Duratović, president of the Prijedor '92 association of detainees, has his own experience of burying missing relatives, after a decades-long search. He lost 47 family members before being taken to the Serb-run Omarska concentration camp, where 700 Bosnian Muslims were killed over three months in summer 1992.

“There were periods where they gave us no food or water for two days”, he told the New Statesman.

Through DNA matching, Duratović later found the bodies of three uncles who had been killed at Omarska in mass graves.


Photo: Lizzie Porter

“The search for them lasted 21 years”, he says. “I felt that finding them was more painful then losing them. Don’t get me wrong – losing your family hurts a lot – but trying to find them, just to know where they are, and not succeeding, hurts even more.”

Ethnic and nationalistic tensions have stood in the way of identifying the Bosnian conflict’s dead and missing. It took three years for the ICMP to obtain permission to operate in the Republika Srpska entity, a Serb-dominated region of Bosnia-Herzegovina. Authorities in the area claimed they already had mechanisms for identifying the missing, and did not need the help of a state-level institution.

“The argument was that the facilities are a very nice condition – which is completely true,” explains Nihad Branković, ICMP’s Western Balkans program officer, in an interview in his Sarajevo office. “But once we opened the body bags, then the main problem [of unidentified cases] is there.”

Critics have accused the ICMP of bias. According to Branković, death tolls are used as political tools to try to prove various actors’ roles in the Balkans conflict, which was characterised by sectarian and nationalistic divisions.

But the organisation takes what staff call an “ethnicity-blind” approach.

“The process of exhumation, the DNA- led identification are done under barcode, so in the lab we do not know at all [the victim’s ethnicity]”, says Branković. “Once we do have a match, once we do have a name, our forms do not indicate ethnicity because we don’t care and we don’t know. Names in Bosnian are fluid things, so someone with a Bosniak [Muslim] name could easily be another ethnicity.”

For the 8,000 people who remain missing, the future is uncertain.

Some are undoubtedly still under the earth, perhaps buried unfound in the folds of Bosnia-Herzegovina’s beautiful mountains. In June the ICMP launched an online application to tackle the lack of quality information on remaining clandestine or mass graves. Members of the public can submit information on possible locations anonymously, in the hope that it will lead to the identification of more missing persons.

There are also cases of mistaken identity. Before the introduction of DNA testing in 2001, thousands of people were identified visually: families would be invited to confirm a dead relative by way of clothes, features, size, and so on.

But the approach proved unreliable. In the moments before their deaths, people exchanged clothes and even ID cards. Families buried the remains of people they falsely believed to be their relatives.


Photo: Lizzie Porter

A blood collection drive will begin this September, in the hope of identifying mistaken burials through DNA matching. But it will have to be approached with the utmost delicacy.

“It’s an extremely difficult issue for the families who have thought that they’ve closed that chapter of their lives 20 years ago”, says Branković. “If you think that you’ve buried him or her and you think that you've found some sort of closure, and then someone knocks at your door and asks you for a blood sample. You say ‘Why? I’ve identified and buried my relative, why are you doing this?’ So we are afraid of this retraumatisation of the families once again.”

The other issue is physically tracking families down. Many Bosnians fled abroad during the war – according to the Bosnian Ministry of Human Rights and Refugees, the diaspora consists of 2 million people.

Funds are a perennial issue, although Branković insists that on an annual budget of around $4m, the ICMP can afford to finish projects underway.

Still, they are stretched: work at the Krajina Identification Project (KIP) facility in Sanski Most is on hold while Sarzinski’s team works in a mortuary elsewhere. The building is gathering dust and dirt, as the bones of the missing who lie here age.


Photo: Lizzie Porter

In Prijedor, Duratović says the local Serb-led authorities stifle efforts to support war survivors and families of the missing.

“They cut off our financing from the town budget in 2012,” he says. “We are being ignored. They are trying to silence us.”

There is also a question mark over what will happen to the rest of the missing when ICMP staff leave Bosnia-Herzegovina – a timeframe itself dependent on future donations. So far, 80 percent of the organisation’s funding comes from the EU, with Norway, the Netherlands, Sweden and Switzerland other major contributors.

Training in the fields of forensic anthropology, pathology and DNA testing is almost non-existent in Bosnia-Herzegovina – a bitter irony in a country that needs it so badly. Sarzinski herself went abroad for her higher education, gaining a BA from Bryn Mawr College in Pennsylvania, and an MSc in Forensic Anthropology from the University of Central Lancashire in the UK.

If Bosnia-Herzegovina is to ascend to the EU, authorities will have to support home-grown efforts to uncover the missing war dead. As Branković puts it: “The EU does not want to have Balkan states joining which still literally have skeletons in the closet.”

Yet issues slowing down the identification of Bosnia-Herzegovina’s missing remain immensely complex.

“While I was looking for my family every new piece of information gave me hope”, says Duratović, the Omarska concentration camp survivor. “For some, the search is still going.”

Lizzie Porter is a freelance Middle East news and features journalist based in Beirut.

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