The shame of Ehud Barak

The Israeli Labour Party has been destroyed by an opportunistic leader

Just before April Fools’ Day dawned, Binyamin “Bibi” Netanyahu took three hours to swear in his bloated government, which is so big that carpenters have had to enlarge the cabinet table at the Knesset.

In the first opinion poll that followed, only a third of the population expressed confidence in the new rulers, a mere seven weeks after electing them. There are grave doubts about an unknown politician (Yuval Steinitz) being made finance minister in the middle of a recession, and concern that Netanyahu has already made up his mind to destroy Iran’s nuclear installations, or so it is said.

Those of us who think that would be a very bad idea believe that Bibi expects support for a strike from his defence minister, Ehud Barak, architect of the Gaza attacks and leader of the Labour Party; and he will probably get it. In all the cynical and opportunistic horse-trading that preceded the formation of Bibi’s rickety coalition and unpopular government, none was more shameless than the conduct of Barak. His ambition will cost his party dear.

The country where I was born and grew up was itself born with a built-in left-of-centre government that lasted for 30 years. David Ben-Gurion, who led Israel to independence, was Mapai (the Israeli Workers’ Party) and the party was him, down to his khaki shorts. Over his time as prime minister (1948-63, with a break of two years) he formed many coalitions, but his unbreakable rule was “Without the right and without the communists”.

His brand of socialism, which continued in the Labour Party that brought together Mapai and other groups in 1968, was, however, so mild and centrist that when I came to London in 1972 the real ideological confrontation of the miners’ strike and a “Who Governs Britain?” crisis was a revelation.

Yet, watered-down and mellow as it may have been, Labour reigned supreme in Israel until 1977. Since then it has returned to government, alternating with Likud, the main party of the right. For the next 33 years, the one immovable element of Israeli politics held firm: Labour and Likud were implacable opponents.

Labour’s decision, after a close vote, to join a Likud-led government in return for a ludicrously large number of cabinet seats would have appalled Ben-Gurion. The party has already been reduced to its smallest ever number of seats in the Knesset, but several of the remaining 13 MKs feel so strongly about the issue that the group may yet split. Either way, this party is well and truly over.

For Barak to prop up a Bibi government is bad enough. But sharing the cabinet table with the openly Arab-bashing Avigdor Lieberman, whose extreme-right Yisrael Beiteinu

(“Israeli Home”) party won two seats more than Labour, is a recipe for suicide. Labour’s national committee may accept it, but its voters won’t, and they won’t be fooled again.

The government sworn in by Bibi on 31 March consists of Likud, Yisrael Beiteinu, Labour and the uncompromising, ultra-Orthodox Shas. Shamefully, Lieberman, a thuggish former nightclub bouncer from Moldavia who is under investigation for grave financial misconduct, is now the country’s face to the world as foreign minister. Hours into his new job, he announced that “if you want peace – prepare for war”, presumably on the premise that while the guns are roaring, police inquiries can be stalled. Propping up such a belligerent government, one that has already denounced the Annapolis accords, George Bush’s last, stuttering attempt to pursue a two-state solution that was agreed less than two years ago, is not what Labour supporters thought they were voting for on 10 February.

Can you remember that far back? Can you remember a woman called Tzipi Livni, who declared victory because her centre-right Kadima party, which broke off from Likud only a few years ago, won 28 seats in the 120-strong Knesset, one more than Likud managed?

Had Bibi and Livni been able to find enough common ground to join forces in a government of national unity, the option favoured by Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, they would have needed only a handful of other MKs to give them the majority of 61 needed to rule. This was the dream ticket, but it would have required genuine power-sharing, with a legally defined rotation of the prime ministership between two equal party leaders, and a joint policy framework, however loose.

Both issues proved insurmountable hurdles. Bibi, as arrogant and smug as when he lost the election in 1999, would not contemplate any rotation. Joining him without it would have put Mrs Clean at risk of becoming a Tsvangirai to his Mugabe, while also betraying the large number who voted for Kadima because they saw it as the only way to prevent a Bibi comeback.

Livni now claims to be as enthusiastic about leading a vigorous opposition to the Bibi regime as she was about forming a government herself a few short weeks ago. She has a point. The kind of administration Bibi now heads is bound to collapse amid bad-tempered public wrangling between its ill-suited components. No one else will be able to form a viable coalition, either, so I predict yet another premature election.

Given the disgraceful conduct of its leader, there is every possibility that Labour will be annihilated altogether next time. Its supporters will opt either for the fringe-left parties or – far more likely – for Livni’s Kadima, which now looks like the only viable moderate option. How paradoxical that, just as Barack Obama seems to be burying the neocons and resurrecting the American left, another Barak is signing Labour’s death warrant in Israel.

Mira Bar-Hillel writes for the London Evening Standard

This article first appeared in the 20 April 2009 issue of the New Statesman, Who polices our police?

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The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.