In a recent, powerful segment, Bishara moved beyond the daily headlines to frame the situation in Gaza not just as a war, but as a calculated political strategy rooted in manipulation and dehumanization. His analysis is a damning indictment of Israeli leadership and a sobering critique of the world’s response. Let's delve into his arguments.
At the heart of Bishara’s critique is a chilling claim: Benjamin Netanyahu’s denial of famine in Gaza is a deliberate strategy aimed at Western audiences. Bishara doesn’t mince words, stating that Netanyahu views these audiences as "dummies" who can be easily manipulated by disinformation.
This isn’t just rhetorical flair. It speaks to a well-documented playbook where conflicting statements are issued—assurances of aid flow for international consumption, juxtaposed with on-the-ground realities of blocked convoys and destroyed infrastructure. The goal, according to Bishara, is to create enough doubt and confusion to paralyze meaningful political action in Western capitals. It’s a bet that the world will see, but not truly believe; that it will be concerned, but not compelled to act decisively.
Perhaps the most harrowing part of Bishara’s commentary is his dissection of the Israeli political camp. He describes a ruling faction that fundamentally "feeds on war." For this group, conflict is not a means to an end but an end in itself—a perpetual state that consolidates power, distracts from domestic failures, and fulfills expansionist ambitions.
Within this logic, Bishara makes a brutal distinction. He claims that for Netanyahu’s supporters, "dead children are okay, but starving children—not so much." This is a profound insight into the optics of modern conflict. Immediate, violent deaths can be blurred, blamed on Hamas, or dismissed as tragic collateral damage in the fog of war.
But starvation is different. It is slow, visible, and undeniably collective. It cannot be easily explained away by a single rocket or a hidden tunnel. A famine, especially one entirely man-made by a blockade, is a silent, screaming testament to a deliberate policy of deprivation. It shifts the narrative from a "war against terror" to a "war against a people," and that, as Bishara argues, is a red line for Western public opinion that even Netanyahu is wary of crossing—hence the denials.
Bishara’s language is unequivocal. He condemns the events in Gaza as "the first genocide of the 21st century." This is a heavy term, legally and morally loaded. Its use is not casual. It is a direct challenge to the international community, invoking the lessons of Rwanda, Srebrenica, and the Holocaust that promised "Never Again."
By framing it as such, he forces a uncomfortable question: If this is a genocide, televised and documented in real-time by its victims, what does the global response say about us?
His answer is scathing: "timid." Despite the rulings of the International Court of Justice (ICJ) ordering Israel to prevent acts of genocide and ensure aid reaches civilians, the tangible change on the ground has been negligible. The response from major world powers has been a mix of mild reprimands, vetoed UN resolutions, and continued arms shipments. This impunity, Bishara argues, is what allows the crisis to continue. The message sent is that international law is optional for some.
Bishara’s analysis is not just a cry of outrage; it is a call to action. He doesn’t just describe the two Israeli camps—the one that "feeds on war" and the liberal one worried about international isolation—he uses that contrast to highlight a path forward.
The only way to break the cycle, he implies, is to make the cost of continuation unbearably high for Israel. This means:
1. Ending Impunity: Holding individuals and the state accountable for war crimes and crimes against humanity through international legal mechanisms.
2. Enforcing Consequences: Moving beyond statements to tangible actions like arms embargoes and sanctions, directly targeting the calculus of the ruling camp.
3. Amplifying Truth: Countering the narrative of manipulation with relentless, factual journalism that centres the human experience of Palestinians.
Marwan Bishara’s analysis is a stark reminder that war is not just about weapons; it is about words, narratives, and psychology. The assertion that Western audiences are seen as "dummies" is perhaps the greatest insult of all—an assumption of our ignorance and apathy.
But the global outcry, led by human rights organizations, journalists, and citizens worldwide, proves otherwise. People are not dumb; they are often desperately seeking truth amidst a storm of propaganda.
The crisis in Gaza is a test. It is a test of our humanity, our commitment to international law, and our refusal to be manipulated. Bishara’s words are a mirror held up to the world, reflecting both the unspeakable horror in Gaza and the timid reflection of a global community that has, so far, failed to stop it. The question is, what will we do now that we see ourselves so clearly?
No comments:
Post a Comment