“Israel must not avenge itself”, the international press, especially the French press, repeats in a chorus. There is no doubt that this warning has the noblest pacifist intentions. But the fact remains that it shows a strange paternalism: is the concert of nations afraid that the Israeli state, still a young little brother, will revert to archaic attitudes? Has it ever done so? In his text, Danny Trom examines the relationship of exclusion that the modern state has with vengeance, and the confusion caused by the asymmetry of a conflict between a state and a group that poses as its existential enemy. He thus reassures those who can be reassured: no, there will be no Israeli vengeance. As for the others, who insist on understanding Israel’s reaction in terms of vengeance, he holds it up to them like a mirror. What does it mean to be fascinated by the logic of vengeance if not to hope to be part of it? “Hamas is avenging the Palestinians for the humiliation inflicted on them by Israel,” is how the discourse of this left goes, which knows how to make money out of resentment. Fantasies of self-humiliation and impossible proportionality are combined. Meanwhile, the ground is shaking beneath the feet of the Jews.
As Tsahal makes its first incursions into Gaza to fight Hamas forces, it is more important than ever to understand the social and political reality of the people of Gaza. Understanding, first and foremost, means distinguishing between what cannot be confused: a group that came to power through the ballot box in 2005 and has since maintained power by repressing civil society, and a population whose lives and aspirations are being exploited and sacrificed. However, understanding requires a willingness to listen, which has not been the main concern of the international community and the Israeli government. This week, K. proposes to share the Whispered in Gaza project, testimonies of Gazans collected and hosted by the Center for Peace Communications. In these videos, the voices may be muffled, reduced to whispers, the names and faces anonymised for fear of reprisals, but the words are crystal clear. They express the righteousness of the Palestinian cause and the resistance to its capture by the hateful and deadly logic of Hamas. Above all, they express the weariness of a population dragged against its will into an armed conflict that offers nothing but death and devastation.
The upheavals we are experiencing impose a pause on even the most elaborate schemes of interpretation, which we might hope would allow us to return to our reflections. However, this pause is usually short-lived or even tolerated. With a great deal of contextualisation, and often denial, meaning can be restored, the unshakable coherence of a worldview maintained: “I’m not surprised”, boasts the self-proclaimed sage. In his text, Ruben Honigmann shares with us an astonishment that cannot be resolved: the astonishment inspired in him by the Jewish people, which never ceases to be astonishing. It is indeed a surprising people that, after all these millennia, continues to be surprised at being persecuted; its naivety is almost irritating. But as Ruben Honigmann glides from one astonishment to the next, he reminds us of the vital importance of allowing ourselves to be surprised, of “never being deprived of meaning”. The fact that this eternally childlike gaze belongs to the oldest people in the world will not contradict him.
