Sunday, 22 October 2023

Moshe Dayan and Girard

This is an extraordinary document. I am reminded of René Girard’s argument that culture is founded on a denial of mimetic, fratricidal violence that perpetuates the violence. The opening words are important. Moshe Dayan says: “Let us not hurl blame at the murderers. Why should we complain of their hatred for us? Eight years have they sat in the refugee camps of Gaza, and seen, with their own eyes, how we have made a homeland of the soil and the villages where they and their forebears once dwelt”. That was written in 1956. Since then, not eight, but 76 years have passed. Dayan’s acknowledgment that the Palestinians are right to hate seems as true today as it was then. 

But then, the speech goes on to argue that precisely for that reason – precisely for the reason that the Palestinians are so justified to hate – Israel must never ever be lulled into thinking that peace is possible with them. The surging sea of hatred behind the walls, he writes, means that “without the steel helmet and the maw of the cannon we shall not plant a tree, nor build a house.” The speech turns into a grim paean for “the barbed wire fence and the machine gun”, and the ones to blame, he suggests, are not the Palestinians so much as “the ambassadors of conspiring hypocrisy, who call for us to lay down our arms”. 

Why is this document so extraordinary? Not just because it is a “defining speech of Zionism”, as the commentator points out, but because it is so totally bereft of any moral justification of the Israeli treatment of the Palestinians. The reference to “millions of Jews, murdered without a land” certainly justifies Jewish hatred of Germans and Europeans, but hardly of Arabs. And the reference to “children” who “shall not have lives to live if we do not dig shelters” of course immediately invites the objection: how about Palestinian children? 

So what the speech amounts to is an asounding self-acknowledged barbarism: a grim affirmation of unceasing, ruthless struggle, despite the knowledge that the victims are in the right. It does away with denial, but not with violence. What Israel must do, it suggests, is to face the violence on which the state is founded and affirm it, despite its horror and its immorality. I can’t help thinking, while reading it, that Dayan must have realized how repulsive his own stance was, as well as the stance of Israel.



2 comments:

  1. Thanks. I have not read Girard maybe I should but have a few Cassegards to finish first - and too many crime novels ( mea culpa ). :)

    Your text gives me some thoughts: I remember seeing the beginning of the Moshe Dayan quote but never the whole. How astonishing! It changes the whole thing as much as Marx ‘ the opium of the people’ and how is it ‘but the heart in a heartless world’ ( too tired to look it up so please excuse the misquote and google it )

    I think Robert Fisk writes in his Lebanon book, quoting an Israeli intellectual something like this ‘ one is fundamentally wrong to think that former victims can see themselves in other victims: they rather excuse anything to avoid being a victim again ‘

    I also believe that fear is very hard to understand from the outside ( as anytime that a majority tries to understand a minority) and I’m full of admiration of those Jewish intellectuals ( inside and outside Israel ) and ordinary Jewish persons who can step outside this thinking. I’m not sure I could.

    Also when they face the hatred from so many of their own.

    Fear ( real or imagined) are so dangerous.

    In the same breath I should also remember to hail the peacemakers of the oppressed Palestinians. It is as difficult to be preach peace from a state of despair and oppression as it is from a state of fear. Probably even harder. All the dead and all the suffering excuse any revenge however brutal or meaningless.

    Hopelessness is so, so dangerous. However much we believe in Paradise, most of us would prefer to stay in this world if we had just a glimmer of hope.

    And Moshe …did he not come from both hopelessness and fear? I don’t remember and can’t bother to Google but I think he fought in this Second World War after his family was slaughtered by the Nazis? Don’t take my word for it - google !

    In the end there is only one thing that divides the human race : the people who can step outside this ever spinning wheel of violence- and the people who cannot.




    ( Do you read Times of Israel?! Or how did u find this?)

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    1. This is a wonderfully thoughtful reply - thank you! I mean it: it is blog post in itself, not just a comment. What I like is that you reply not just by abstract arguments, but by engaging with the thoughts and life circumstances of individuals who find themselves in the midst of having to make terrible choices, coming from hopelessness and fear. Two thoughts: first, you quote the intellectual saying ‘one is fundamentally wrong to think that former victims can see themselves in other victims: they rather excuse anything to avoid being a victim again‘. This made me think of Raphael Lemkin, who seems to have been an exception from that (Åsbrink writes about him in the latter half of her very long article in DN: https://www.dn.se/kultur/elisabeth-asbrink-sa-formar-forestallningen-om-judars-vithet-bilden-av-kriget/ - thanks for the subscription! :)). A second thing: hopelessness is dangerous, yes. But isn't there also a good hopelessness, when we forget about the future and about fear, and live so much in the moment that we wish for nothing more? Or maybe that is a kind of hope - a hope not in the future but in the present?
      PS No I don't usually read that newspaper; I just found it by a google search...

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