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Philosophical Perspectives on the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict.(Review)

Arab Studies Quarterly (ASQ) September 22, 1999 | von Bockmann, James Lee Tomis Kapitan, Editor. Philosophical Perspectives on the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. Armonk, NY and London: M.E. Sharpe, 1997, 382 pp. Paper $29.95.

Fifty years of Palestinian dispossession and still timing is everything for academic philosophy. Ever fashionable, ever late, liberalism has finally arrived. Now we have a tool, a textbook. Now we have, as the cover reads, “the first anthology in English devoted to the philosophical issues engendered by the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.” Yes, now that it is proper, though no longer quite meaningful to speak about a Peace Process; now that a pair of hands have been shaken; now that the PLO has become the PA rather than just a “terrorist organization;” and above all, now that Israelis themselves, the brave New Historians, have acknowledged that official Zionist historiography does indeed have a damp underbelly; now, at last, it is alright to present “both sides” of the conflict, side by side, to the English-speaking American public. If nothing else, it seems Oslo has at least underwritten another thoughtful attempt to reconcile rights and claims, concede violence is in fact violence, and offer normative soluti ons which just happen, generally, to reflect the obvious: the Palestinians must have a Palestine, Israel must accept it, and both peoples must somehow do more than merely accommodate one another. They may even have to learn to live together.

For those little inspired by the wait, watch, think, write, and repeat of professional philosophy, Kapitan’s Philosophical Perspectives does not offer much. Subtract the word-spinning that sometimes passes for theoretical or “moral” insight, and it is all been said before, and often more blatantly. There are indeed several excellent essays among the fifteen that make up the book. Robert B. Ashmore’s “State Terrorism and its Sponsors,” James A Graff’s “Targeting Children: Rights versus Realpolitik,” and Erin McKenna’s “Land, Property, and Occupation: A Question of Political Philosophy,” are all wellwritten, well-reasoned reminders that, occasionally, things are as they seem: Israel is as Israel does. They lift the Jewish state’s public mask and reveal the naked force beneath, arguing in turn that Israel is itself a terrorist state (Ashmore); that its tactics (many of which are, of course, officially tagged “antiterrorist” are repugnant to a human rights ethic (Graff); and in fact Israel may be charged with “s econdary genocide” (a charge McKenna rests upon a very skillfully compressed history of Israel’s ideologically driven, i.e., premeditated, conquest of Palestinian land, its disastrous consequences, and the pretense of legality which has provided its political cover). Another trio of essays–Hugh R. Harcourt’s “In Search of the Emperor’s New Clothes: Reflections on Rights in the Palestine Conflict,” Robert L. Holmes’ “Beyond Justice and Rights: Competing Israeli and Palestinian Claims,” and Milton Fisk’s Zionism, Liberalism, and the State”–then fits us with the conceptual lens essential to identifying true “obstacles to peace.” Harcourt, with an incisiveness one has to admire, cuts through the rhetoric of rights and forces us to confront the reality of rights: they do not exist but are made to exist, before they can be experienced they must be won; if they are to endure they must be shared. Thus the emptiness of any “right to exist” Israel secures by way of diplomatic extortion and thus the unique power of th e seemingly powerless Palestinians: only they can make that “right” a reality. If this is to happen, Holmes explains, there must be an end to the “moral scorekeeping” sustained by the jargon of “rights” and ‘justice.” A radical reorientation, away from suffering toward compassion, away from “the wrongs of the past” toward the possibility of life, is a necessary first step toward peace (307). As Fisk understands, however, the price of such a genuine peace for Israel is the renunciation of Zionism as we have come to know it. Philosophical Perspectives is really carried by these essays– but then this is to say, simply, the book is at its best when it is least polite, most pointed. Otherwise it reads like what it is: a schoolbook, perfect for juniors, seniors, and even graduate students still unacquainted with this singularly important international conflict. And one can only hope the curious few are able to piece together the critiques of Zionism, Israeli policy, and (a dimension of the “Israeli-Palestinian” co nflict largely ignored in the book for the sake of “focus”) American imperialism apparent in the above essays, and come away sufficiently disturbed by the thought they too are involved. go to website israeli palestinian conflict

Given the modest design of Philosophical Perspectives–as an introduction to the conflict and the normative philosophical issues born of and sustained by it–it is to Kapitan’s credit that the book may indeed compel students to ask What’s to be done? His “Historical Introduction to the Philosophical Issues” in fact presents this possibility, because it appeals to neither sides’ “sensibilities” but instead moves comfortably and conscientiously claim to claim, consequence to consequence. In doing so, as the facts are laid so abundantly and so judiciously before us they begin to speak clearly for themselves, it manages to leave the impression the “Israeli-Palestinian” conflict is not merely a contest between two “peoples” (therefore it is not to be mistaken for a “fair fight” by moral philosophy), but a struggle to bring the age of colonialism to a resounding close–all the better to confront the New World Order of corporate American fantasy. Moreover, given the remaining obstacles (Peace Process or not) to ope n discussion of the conflict in the predominantly “English-speaking” United States, any charge of timidity one might level against Kapitan ought to be duly checked by an appreciation of what he has put at stake. Dumbfounding perhaps, but we certainly believe him when he reports that “one prospective contributor described the project as ‘fraught with danger”‘ (viii). Frankness may occasionally seal a friendship, but in certain contexts it is still downright subversive! go to website israeli palestinian conflict

Contributors’ essays then explore the normative claims and jurisprudential concepts that have shaped the conflict and, for better or worse, established the trajectory of the only peace presently entertained: the two state solution supposedly embraced at Oslo. The problem for moral philosophy is of course how to derive the ought in this instance essential to reconciliation–one which serves neither party exclusively (and herein lies the real “tragedy” that becomes Belaief’s “Tragic Justice”), but both equally in the service of the good Whether that good is called justice, peace, freedom or happiness, if it is to be realized it must be made intelligible as well as tangible. There must be rules, rights, defined with as much precision possible given that they must mitigate between the disputed pasts and contentious futures of so many “peoples” and still rest upon the generalization humankind. As Kapitan understands, there is no end to this problem; liberal justice is always an approximation, a work in progress. The case of The Palestinian People v. Israel, however, because of the very audacity of the Zionist idea and the prolonged shock delivered by its rather sudden and literally overwhelming success, represents an especially profound challenge to the system. And thus many of the contributors realize their theoretical lawyering–should their ideas actually be employed by policymakers, or as Kapitan calls them, “those with power to pass laws and move armies” (viii)–inight have equally profound consequences, might someday become precedent, the basis of another “peoples” appeal, their scream or cry for justice. The questions, we all know, are legion, and those raised in the essays are clearly among the most important.

What is meant by “national self-determination” and what “peoples” possessing what attribute qualify for that “right”? Yael Tamir proposes that national self-determination is a cultural rather than a political claim, that a people possesses a national/cultural essence which does not necessarily win them the right to their own state, but where they are a minority nonetheless entitles them to have their culture “adequately reflected in the public space” (61). Muhammad Ali Khalidi offers instead the “smallest region” principle: “every region should be independent in which the majority of the population so desire, and in case of dispute, the group inhabiting the smallest such geographical region is the one that is given priority” (79). What is a “legitimate” state? I-low is it created? How is it constituted? These questions are raised by Ashmore, Graff, McKenna and Fisk, mentioned above, and also by Jerome M. Segal, Alan B. Gewirth and Manfred Vogel. Segal’s essay instructs us in the art of seeing the obvious: “t he existence of a state at its core is a matter of generalized obedience by a population to some entity as the rule-giving authority” (226). The PNC’s 1988 proclamation of the state of Palestine merely formalized the transfer of generalized obedience from Israel to the rule-givers of Palestine that occurred during the Intifada. Palestine exists. It is presently occupied. The importance of Gewirth and Vogel’s essays, on the other hand, resides in the fact both proudly bear the Zionist stamp: make a rule, and then make Israel an exception to it. Gewirth–”the Israeli Jews now have the power, so let them keep it” (95)–slips past every disturbing political parallel (South Africa? “It is easy to dispose of this.” (99)) and justifies Jewish exclusivity in familiar, properly circular fashion, by way of the “unique” Jewish experience. Vogel, who begins his essay with the unique claim that the “Jewish-Arab” conflict is itself an exception “in that it lends itself to be examined and judged from the ethical perspective ” (Really? 244), also rests his case upon the “special need” (249) of the Jews, and then in matter-of-fact Herzlian fashion proposes not only division but the transfer of populations, a solution he considers “the least evil” (262). Evil is likewise the concern of moralist Daniel Statman, who turns our attention to the ignominious Israeli Iron Fist of the Intfada years in order to “shed light” on its “moral status” (133). Can the targeting of children, the breaking of hands, arms, skulls, the indiscriminate detention without trial of “suspects,” torture, “reeducation,” the lockdown of entire cities, the deprivation of food, water, shelter, and deportations, etc., be justified in response to stones? Statman thinks so, for after all–it was war, the “enemy” was everyone, everywhere, and of course stones can be “very harmful” (135). His essay is absolutely priceless simply by virtue of the fact it precedes Graft=s and just war reasoning suffers the tangential rebuttal. Palestine being as sacred as it is tormented , the question must be asked:

What credence is to be granted religious claims? David B. Burrell answers that fundamentalisms of every stripe are to be shunned as they are predatory, politically opportunistic; their claims that they exemplify their particular religions should be challenged, and the “universal” elements within each tradition should be made the common front of the faithful seeking peace. Secularists, he suggests, ought not recoil altogether but should embrace religion as a binding force which he imagines has “postmodern” significance.

The book closes with Lynne Belaiefs “Tragic Justice,” an essay with a sense of prophecy about it. As she foresees it, having reckoned with the intransigent on either side, peace will be no victory parade. It will not be accompanied by “joy and conviction” (339). There will be no atonement. There will be no forgiveness. Love will not reign. Instead Israelis and Palestinians alike will have to eat a portion of their national aspirations. They will have to forfeit their cultural and religious conceits, their political self-delusions. For the sake of a peace which “should satisfy at least a minimal degree of enlightened self-interest, in the sense of realpolitik, for both peoples” (336), both must realize “there is absolutely nothing one can do to repay the suffering, loss, and death and that to think otherwise is grotesque.” This, she explains, is the “very adult and sobering” meaning of tragedy: “that within its tragic essence all is permanent except its meaning for the future” (340). But what meaning? Belaief tells us that “Images of partnership must replace those of owning and blaming, and devotion to the building of the entire land of Israel/Palestine must replace the passion of vengeance and destruction of the other who occupies a part of it” (342). And no doubt there is meaning in such an image, perhaps even rooted, if not in compassion as Holmes would have it, then in the altruistic human instinct asabiyah as conceived by Ibn Khaldun and nicely reintroduced by Sari Nusseibeh in his essay on “Personal and National Identity.” In fact, Nusseibeh’s hopeful vision of the future somewhat resembles Belaiefs: “Perhaps … it will be possible to have a rich mosaic (or even multi-layered) asabiyyahs in the region coexisting in such harmony that the returns and benefits to each, as well as to the rest of the world, will be a model for the human endeavor” (220). These are wonderful images, waiting, it seems, to be pressed into service by the next Peace Process, when they are ripe for human consumption. It only remains t o be seen, however, how politics can be made to buoy human’s finer instincts. Or how a politics that fails to see the international and egalitarian dimension of oppression can ever culminate in more than national tragedy. Asabiyah never stopped a bulldozer.

James Lee von Bockmann is a graduate student in the Department of Political Science, Illinois State University, Normal.

von Bockmann, James Lee