When the bodies of three Israeli settlers — Aftali Frenkel and Gilad Shaar, both 16, and Eyal Yifrach, 19 — were found 30 June near Hebron in the southern West Bank, Israel went into a state of mourning and a wave of sympathy flowed in from around the world. The three had disappeared 18 days earlier in circumstances that remain unclear. The entire episode, particularly after its grim ending, seemed to traumatise Israelis into ignoring harsh truths about the settlers and the militarisation of their society. Amid a portrayal of the three as hapless youths, although one was a 19-year-old soldier, commentators have failed to provide badly needed context to the events. Few, if any, assigned the blame where it was most deserved: on expansionist policies that have sown hatred and bloodshed. Before the discovery of the bodies, the real face of Netanyahu's notoriously right-wing government was well known. Few held illusions about how “peaceful” an occupation could be if run by figures such as Foreign Minister Avigdor Lieberman, Economy Minister Naftali Bennett, and Deputy Defence Minister Danny Danon. But because “children” — the term used by Netanyahu himself — were involved, even critics didn't expect an exercise in political point scoring. There was sympathy elicited for the missing settlers case, but it quickly vanished in the face of an Israeli response (in the West Bank, Jerusalem and later in a full-scale war on Gaza), largely seen in the crucible of world opinion as disproportionate and cruel. Rather than being related to the tragic deaths of three youths, this response obviously reflected Netanyahu's grand political calculations. As mobs of Israeli Jews went out on an ethnic lynching spree in Israel, Jerusalem and the West Bank, that some likened to a “pogrom”, occupation soldiers conducted a massive arrest campaign of hundreds of Palestinians — mostly Hamas members and supporters. The Islamic Resistance Movement Hamas said it had no role in the death of the settlers, and this appears plausible since they rarely hesitate to take credit for something carried out by their military wing. Israeli military strategists were well aware of that. This war on Hamas, however, has little to do with the killed settlers and everything to do with the political circumstances that preceded their disappearance. On 15 May, two Palestinian youths, Nadim Siam Abu Nuwara, 17, and Mohamed Mahmoud Odeh Salameh, 16, were killed by Israeli soldiers while taking part in a protest commemorating the anniversary of the Nakba, or “Catastrophe”. Video footage shows that Nadim was innocently standing with a group of friends before collapsing as he was hit by an Israeli army bullet. The Nakba took place 66 years ago when the so-called Arab-Israeli conflict emerged. An estimated one million Palestinians were forced out of their homes as they fled a Zionist invasion. Israel was established on the ruins of that Palestine. Nadim and Mohamed, like the youths of several generations since, were killed in cold blood as they walked to remember that exodus. In Israel, there was no outrage. However, Palestinian anger, which seems to be in constant accumulation — being under military occupation, and enduring harsh economic conditions — was reaching a tipping point. In some way, the deaths of these Palestinian youths were a distraction from the political disunity that has afflicted Palestinian leadership and society for years. Their deaths were a reminder that Palestine, as an idea and a collective plight and struggle, goes beyond the confines of politics or even ideology. Their deaths reminded us that there is much more to Palestine than the whims of the aging Palestinian Authority (PA) “president”, Mahmoud Abbas, and his Ramallah-based henchmen, or even Hamas's regional calculations following the rise and fall of the “Arab Spring”. The Israeli reaction to the settlers' death has been different. After the discovery of the bodies, fellow settlers and right-wing Israelis began exacting revenge from Palestinian communities. The mob was united by the slogan “death to the Arabs”, reviving a long-disused notion of a single Palestinian identity that precedes the emergence of Fatah and Hamas. Perhaps paradoxically, the grief and anger provoked by the death of Mohamed Abu Khdeir, 17, who was burnt alive by Israeli settlers as part of this lashing out, has furthered this reawakening of a long-fragmented Palestinian national identity. This identity that had suffered due to Israeli walls, military tactics and the Palestinians' own disunity, has been glued back together in a process that resembles the events that preceded the first and second uprisings (intifadas) of 1987 and 2000 respectively. However, unlike in the previous Intifadas, the hurdles towards a unified voice this time seem insurmountable. Abbas is a weak leader who has done so much to meet Israel's security expectations and so very little to defend the rights of his people. He is a relic from a bygone era who merely exists because he is the best option Israel and the US have at the moment. In the aftermath of the Israeli violent response to the killing of the settlers, Abbas laboured to coordinate with the massive Israeli search. At times, he stayed away as Israeli troops brutalised Palestinians in the West Bank. It is clear that there can be no third Intifada that leaves Abbas and his wretched political apparatus in place. This is precisely why Palestinian Authority goons prevented many attempts by Palestinians in the West Bank to protest the Israeli violence unleashed in the occupied territories, which finally culminated into a massive war against Gaza that has killed and wounded hundreds. Whatever credit Abbas supposedly gained by closing ranks with Hamas to form a unity government last June has been just as quickly lost. It has been overshadowed by his own failures to live up to his commitments under the unity deal, and the relevance of his “authority” was quickly eclipsed by Israeli violence, highlighting his and his government's utter irrelevance to Israel's political calculations. When Israel launched its massive arrest campaign that mainly targeted Hamas in the West Bank, Hamas's political wing was already considering “alternatives” to the unity government in Ramallah. Hamas's objectives were not being met. The unity deal was meant to achieve several goals: end Hamas's political isolation in Gaza, resulting from the intensifying of the siege by Egypt's Abdel-Fattah Al-Sisi, solving the economic crisis in the strip, and also allowing Hamas to revert to its old brand, as a resistance movement first and foremost. Even if Hamas succeeded in establishing a new brand based on the resistance/political model, Israel was determined to deactivate any potential for Palestinian unity. Destroying that unity became almost an obsession for Netanyahu. The disappearance of the settlers gave Netanyahu's quest a new impetus. He immediately began a campaign pressuring Abbas to break away from Hamas. But there is still more to Israel's war on Gaza than this. Fearing an Intifada that would unite Palestinians, threaten the PA, and slow down the construction of illegal settlements, Netanyahu's war on Gaza means to distract from the slowly building collective sentiment among Palestinians throughout Palestine, and among Palestinian citizens in Israel. This unity is much more alarming for Netanyahu than a political arrangement by Fatah and Hamas necessitated by regional circumstances. The targeting of Hamas is an Israeli attempt at challenging the emerging new narrative that is no longer about Gaza and its siege anymore, but the entirety of Palestine and its collectives, regardless of which side of the Israeli “separation wall” they live on. A true Palestinian unity culminating in a massive popular Intifada is the kind of war Netanyahu cannot possibly win. The writer is managing editor of Middle East Eye.
