ReportWire

Tag: Opinions

  • Opinion | The Cure for the Run on the Argentine Peso

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    Milei promised to dollarize and close the central bank. What is he waiting for?

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    Mary Anastasia O’Grady

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  • A call for collective global action in support of Palestinian prisoners

    A call for collective global action in support of Palestinian prisoners

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    On August 3, today, prisoner rights institutions and Palestinians all around the world are standing in solidarity with Gaza and Palestininian prisoners. This day is dedicated to highlighting Israeli crimes and violations of Palestinian prisoners’ rights and the continuing genocide in Gaza. The machinery of brutality that punishes and tortures in secrecy in Israeli prisons must be brought to light.

    Since October 7, Palestinian detainees have faced horrific crimes. Shortly after Israeli Defence Minister Yoav Gallant announced that Israel was cutting off food, water, electricity and fuel to Gaza, effectively announcing the start of the genocide, Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir launched his own war against Palestinian political prisoners and detainees held in Israeli jails and camps, by declaring a policy of “overcrowding”.

    Since then, the Israeli army and security services have launched mass arrest campaigns, which have swelled the number of Palestinian citizens from the occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem to 9,800. At least 335 women and 680 children have been arrested. More than 3,400 have been put under administrative detention – that is, they are held indefinitely without charge. Among them, there are 22 women and 40 children. There has never been such a high number of administrative detainees since 1967.

    Israel has also arrested an unknown number of Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, possibly exceeding thousands, according to our humble estimates. They are held under the 2002 “Incarceration of Unlawful Combatants Law”, which allows the Israeli army to detain people without issuing a detention order.

    Under Ben-Gvir’s orders, the already grave conditions in Israeli prisons have been made even worse. The prison authorities sharply reduced food rations and water, closing down the small shops where Palestinian detainees could purchase food and other necessities. They also cut off water and power and even reduced the time allocated to using the restrooms. Prisoners are also prohibited from showering, which has resulted in the spread of  diseases, especially skin-related ones like scabies. There have been reports of Palestinian prisoners being deprived of medical care.

    The systematic malnutrition and dehydration Palestinian prisoners are facing has taken a toll. The few that are released leave detention centres in horrific physical condition. Even the Israeli Supreme Court ruled that such weaponisation of food is “unacceptable”.

    The use of torture, including rape and beatings, has become widespread. There have been shocking reports about prison guards urinating on detainees, torturing them with electric shock and using dogs to sexually assault them. There have been even testimonies of Israeli forces using detainees as human shields during combat in Gaza.

    The systemic use of torture and other ill-treatment has predictably gone as far as extrajudicial killings. According to a recent report by Hebrew daily Haaretz, 48 Palestinians have died in detention centres. Among them is Thaer Abu Asab, who was brutally beaten by Israeli prison guards in Ketziot Prison, and died of his injuries at the age of 38.

    According to Haaretz, 36 Gaza detainees have also died in the Sde Teiman camp. Testimonies from Israeli medical staff working at the detention centre have revealed horrific conditions for Palestinians held there. Detainees are reportedly often operated on without anaesthesia and some have had to have their limbs amputated because they were shackled even when sleeping or receiving treatment.

    Palestinians who have been released have said what they were subject to was more horrific than what they had heard took place at Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo detention centres, where American forces torturedd and forcibly disappeared Arabs and other Muslim men. They have also testified that some detainees were killed through torture and severe beatings. One prisoner from Bethlehem, Moazaz Obaiat, who was released in July, has alleged that Ben-Gvir personally took part in torturing him.

    Israeli authorities have denied prisoners visits by lawyers, family, and even medics, including the International Committee of the Red Cross. They have carried out acts of collective punishment, destroying the homes of their families, arresting their relatives and holding them hostage, and illegally transferring some to secret detention camps and military bases without disclosing their fate, which constitutes the crime of enforced disappearance.

    Despite condemnations from various human rights orgaisations, Ben-Gvir and the rest of the Israeli governing coalition have doubled down on these policies. “[Prisoners] should be killed with a shot to the head and the bill to execute Palestinian prisoners must be passed in the third reading in the Knesset […] Until then, we will give them minimal food to survive. I don’t care,” Ben-Gvir said on July 1.

    By using mass detention, Israel, the occupying power, has systematically destroyed Palestinian social, economic and psychological fabric since 1967. Over one million Palestinians have been arrested since then, thousands have been held hostage for extended periods under administrative detention and 255 detainees have died in Israeli prisons.

    Israeli crimes against the Palestinians did not begin in October 2023, but are a continuation of a systematic process of ethnic cleansing, forced displacement and apartheid that began even before 1948.

    But Israel’s colonial regime overlooks the Palestinian people’s resilience. Inspired by the experiences of the free nations of Ireland, South Africa and Vietnam, we draw strength from our determination to achieve our right to self-determination, freedom and independence.

    This is why on this day, August 3, we urge the world to collectively protest against Israeli occupation crimes and racist laws and we call on governments to uphold their legal duties to prevent such crimes from happening. We also call on unions, universities, parliaments and political parties to effectively participate in large-scale events, demonstrations and digital campaigns in solidarity with Palestinian political prisoners.

    The international community should hold the occupying power to account by imposing a complete arms embargo on it, applying economic sanctions, and suspending its UN membership.

    They should also nullify bilateral agreements, and halt Israel’s participation in international forums and events until it abides by international law and human rights. The international community must compel Israel to protect civilians according to its obligations as an occupying power.

    Israel must also reveal the identities and conditions of people it has forcibly disappeared. We demand an end to arbitrary and administrative detention policies. The bodies of those who have died inside and outside prisons must also be released, and all prisoners must receive legal protection.

    Israel, the occupying power, is under the obligation to allow special rapporteurs, United Nations experts, and the International Criminal Court prosecutor to visit Palestine, inspect prisons and deliver justice for the victims, including material and moral compensation.

    Israel must not be allowed to get away with these horrific crimes.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • Gaza solidarity encampments: We, as educators, need to protect our students

    Gaza solidarity encampments: We, as educators, need to protect our students

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    “We educate future generations.”

    “We strive to take humanity forward.”

    “We want to create a great world.”

    “We are committed to the betterment of our global society.”

    In the past few months, such university mottos have proven to be nothing other than vapid slogans.

    Student-led sit-ins have popped up across US college campuses. Protesting students are demanding that their institutions call for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza and divest from companies doing business with Israel.

    But instead of engaging with their demands in good faith, university presidents set loose the notoriously unrestrained American law enforcement on students standing in solidarity with the Palestinian people, who are facing genocide. The police have entered campuses in riot gear, violently dismantled encampments, brutalised protesters, and arrested hundreds.

    Watching all of this, we are reminded that the contemporary university is not a place that cares to inspire change or build a better tomorrow through higher education. It is only beholden to the political and economic interests that often converge within its walls.

    So, it is now time for us, educators, to step up and protect our students.

    Indeed, many brave faculty members have put themselves in the line of fire.

    On April 22, New York University (NYU) faculty were seen forming a chain around the Palestine solidarity encampment when protestors were preparing to pray. They did the same the next day when the New York Police Department (NYPD) entered campus to dismantle the encampment after the university administration asked them to step in.

    The NYPD accused the faculty of being violent with law enforcement. But witnesses said that they were simply protecting their students “against full-geared riot cops”. Afterwards, faculty from several departments at NYU wrote letters to the university leadership, condemning the intervention of the NYPD. The letter from NYU School of Law called the police intervention “a stain on the university”.

    On May 1, on the third day of the encampment at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, the university administration called in campus and state police. As they tore down the encampment, the faculty remained on the front lines. Associate Professor Samer Alatout, who was present at the protest and was detained, told reporters: “They targeted me specifically for violence…they did not come to me and say, ‘come with me.’ They pushed me to the ground.” Professor Alatout added that he was hit several times in the face. After his release, he returned to the encampment “with cuts and blood on his face”. Professor Sami Schalk was also detained. After her release, she announced on social media: “I’m home. I’m significantly bruised, in a lot of pain & my shoulder is sprained. I’ve been told to return to the hospital if certain things happen which might be signs of internal damage, esp from the strangulation…”

    At Virginia Tech, the leadership also asked law enforcement to take down the solidarity encampment. This resulted in 82 trespassing arrests, including of assistant professors Desiree Poets and Bikrum Gill who stood alongside protesting students. And when the police stormed the encampment at Washington University in St Louis, 65-year-old Professor Steve Tamari of Southern Illinois University Edwardsville was “body slammed and crushed by the weight of several St Louis County police officers and then dragged across campus”. Professor Tamari broke his hand and ribs as a result of the assault by the police. In a statement, he said: “One doctor told me I am lucky to be alive; my lungs could have been punctured and I could have died on the ground as they abused me.”

    By standing between the students and law enforcement, these faculty members have reminded us of our responsibilities as educators.

    As our students are completely abandoned by university administrators, we are reminded that we too have a duty of care. In part, this means that as our students are forced to confront violent law enforcement, we have a quite literal responsibility to take care of their wellbeing, health and safety.

    Equally, it means safeguarding the core function of the university and the role of our students in it. Here I’m reminded of the words of the American educator Robert Maynard Hutchins who once said the purpose of education is not to teach facts, theories and laws or to “reform” and “amuse” students. Rather, it is to teach students to “think”; to “unsettle” their minds, to “widen their horizon” and “to inflame their intellects”.

    This is where we see the crucial role of the knowledge that we impart in the classroom and the impact it has on the world outside. The dilemma of the contemporary university was aptly captured by a placard at the encampment at Columbia University that said, “Columbia, why require me to read Prof Edward Said, if you don’t want me to use it?” Indeed, we need to remember that what we teach in the classroom is not words on paper, a metaphor for real-world problems or an abstract discussion of issues elsewhere.

    For students, the readings we assign are a primer for understanding the world and their place in it. When they read Edward Said, WEB Du Bois, Merze Tate, or Frantz Fanon they think of the legacies of colonialism, imperialism and racism and how they shape their lives today. When they read about ethnic cleansing, massacres and genocides, these are not just history lessons to them. Students wonder why such atrocities were allowed to be perpetrated and what could have been done to stop them. Of course, this understanding of education runs counter to the logic of the neoliberal university where the degree is just a commodity that equips students to enter the labour market, earn a living and hopefully recoup to financial investment they made when pursuing a higher education.

    But through these encampments, we are witness to students embodying the “origin story”  of the university. Their inflamed intellect and widened horizons teach them about the complicity of their institutional positionality and how “business as usual” in the place where they live, work and study allows a genocide to continue unabated thousands of miles away in Gaza. It is then our role as educators to care for and protect them, as they put into practice outside the classroom, what they have learned in the classroom, and demand action from those that lead our universities.

    What we are witnessing is in no way just an American problem. At the time of writing, social media was flooded with videos of law enforcement violently dismantling student encampments in Berlin and Amsterdam. Encampments have also appeared elsewhere in Europe, Australia, Mexico and Japan. The global resonance of this student movement is self-evident. And educators will have to decide what side of history they wish to be on.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • WTF Fun Fact 13703 – Allodoxaphobia

    WTF Fun Fact 13703 – Allodoxaphobia

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    Allodoxaphobia is the fear of opinions. It’s a complex phobia that can significantly influence an individual’s social interactions and personal development.

    This condition leads to anxiety or distress at the thought of giving or receiving opinions, affecting both personal and professional spheres.

    Understanding Allodoxaphobia

    Allodoxaphobia is rooted in the fear of judgments and criticisms from others, resulting in avoidance of situations where opinions might be expressed or exchanged. The condition is not merely about disliking disagreement but involves an intense, irrational fear that can trigger avoidance behaviors, anxiety, and significant distress.

    The origins of allodoxaphobia can be varied, encompassing past negative experiences, underlying anxiety disorders, and a heightened sensitivity to how one’s views are perceived by others. The effects extend beyond mere discomfort, potentially leading to isolation, reduced self-esteem, and challenges in personal growth and career advancement due to a reluctance to participate in discussions or decision-making processes.

    Diagnosis and Treatment of Allodoxaphobia

    Diagnosing allodoxaphobia involves evaluating the individual’s symptoms, history, and the extent of impairment caused by the fear. Treatment typically includes cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) to address negative thought patterns, exposure therapy to gradually desensitize individuals to the fear, and possibly medication to manage symptoms of anxiety or depression. Mindfulness and relaxation techniques can also aid in reducing anxiety levels.

    Coping Strategies

    Coping with allodoxaphobia involves a mix of therapeutic approaches and lifestyle adjustments. Regular physical activity, mindfulness practices, and a supportive social network can enhance coping mechanisms. Learning to engage with differing opinions in safe, controlled environments can help build tolerance and reduce fear responses over time.

    Seeking help from mental health professionals specializing in anxiety disorders is crucial for effectively managing allodoxaphobia. Therapists can offer personalized treatment plans, combining therapeutic techniques and coping strategies. These can help to address the specific needs and experiences of the individual.

     WTF fun facts

    Source: “Fear of Opinions Phobia – Allodoxaphobia” — Fearof.net

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    WTF

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  • The United States must be held accountable for its ‘war on terror’ crimes

    The United States must be held accountable for its ‘war on terror’ crimes

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    On January 16, the European Court of Human Rights issued an important ruling in the context of accountability for abuses perpetrated during the United States-led “war on terror”. In the case of Mustafa al-Hawsawi v Lithuania, the court found that the latter violated the European Convention on Human Rights due to its complicity in the CIA’s secret detention programme and its mistreatment of al-Hawsawi, a Saudi national.

    Lithuania was ordered to pay compensation to the victim worth $108,660 for the time he was at “Detention Site Violet”, a CIA black site it hosted. Al-Hawsawi is currently detained at the Guantánamo Bay detention centre, alongside 29 other Muslim men.

    This judgment is the latest in a series of court rulings holding European countries accountable for their involvement in post-9/11 abuses. The European Court previously ruled against Poland, Romania, Italy and Macedonia.

    Other European institutions, including the European Parliament and the Council of Europe, as well as individual European countries, have also taken measures for accountability, although they have not always been ideal. The UK paid over $28.8m to Iraqi victims for documented war crimes and abuses during its involvement in the US-led invasion of Iraq.

    Additionally, compensation was provided to British citizens detained in Guantánamo and to two Libyan families who were kidnapped and tortured with the help of British intelligence. However, the UK abandoned an independent inquiry into post-9/11 extraordinary rendition and torture by its forces and closed an investigation into alleged crimes in Iraq.

    Italy convicted in absentia 23 Americans, including CIA agents and an air force colonel, for kidnapping Hassan Nasr, an Egyptian imam based in Milan and handing him over to Egypt, where he was tortured. An Italian court also sentenced the former military intelligence chief and his former deputy to 10 and nine in jail respectively for their involvement in the case.

    Sweden compensated Mohammed Alzery and Ahmed Agiza, who were forcibly deported to Egypt at the request of the CIA and tortured. Prosecutors also opened investigations in France, Portugal and Spain over the CIA’s use of their airports for renditions, although they did not result in formal charges. There remains an ongoing criminal investigation into CIA activities in Poland.

    Canada, too, apologised and paid $8.1m to Omar Khadr, a Canadian national, over its role in his imprisonment in Guantánamo; it also compensated Maher Arar, another Canadian national, with the same amount over its role in the US government’s decision to deport him to Syria, where he was detained for a year and tortured.

    While these court cases and settlements highlight efforts to bring to justice European and other countries complicit in the abuses perpetrated during the “war on terror”, they underscore the persistent lack of accountability for the US, its chief architect and leader.

    As a state party to the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, the US is obligated to provide redress to survivors of torture carried out by its government forces. But legal barriers have often prevented survivors from pursuing justice in US courts.

    By invoking the state secrets privilege, for example – most recently used in the United States v Zubaydah case – the government can withhold information it deems sensitive to national security. In the lawsuit filed by Abu Zubaydah, a Saudi-born Palestinian man currently held in Guantanamo, the defence sought evidence about his torture that the government argued would harm national security; the Supreme Court ruled in the government’s favour.

    Similarly, historically, court dismissals, have been the result of the US government citing immunity – which has protected its forces as well as private contractors.

    The US has also bypassed global and regional instruments of justice. It has warned of reprisals against the International Criminal Court if it launches an investigation into US crimes in Afghanistan. Additionally, it maintains that the American Declaration of the Rights and Duties of Man is not binding, rendering decisions and recommendations from the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) nonbinding. In 2020, the IACHR found the US responsible for the torture, abuse and indefinite detention of Djamel Ameziane, a former Guantanamo detainee, and recommended the US compensate him, which the US government has not done so far.

    There have been only minimal steps towards accountability within the US judicial system. An investigation into abuse at Abu Ghraib prison resulted in the court martial of 11 low-level soldiers. An Obama-era investigation into 101 CIA interrogations that used “enhanced interrogation techniques” found only two merited further inquiries. In 2012, the investigation was closed without further action.

    According to Human Rights Watch, out of 506 claims made as of 2007 under the Foreign Claims Act, which allows foreign nationals to seek compensation, there is a record of only one being paid – $1,000 for unlawful detention in Iraq.

    Settlements were reached in two lawsuits against private military contractors. In 2013, a defence contractor paid $5.28m to 71 former detainees held in Abu Ghraib and other black sites. In 2017, a case brought by the American Civil Liberties Union on behalf of three torture victims reached a confidential settlement with psychologists James Mitchell and Bruce Jessen, who were paid over $80m by the US government to create the torture programme.

    And despite 18 dismissal attempts, a lawsuit launched by four Iraqi torture victims against government contractor CACI International for torture at Abu Ghraib is heading to trial.

    These lawsuits and investigations have fallen short of adequately addressing the scale and severity of the harm inflicted on victims during the “war on terror”. Lack of redress further compounds the suffering of those who have endured physical and psychological trauma. To date, no senior government or military official has been held responsible for post-9/11 policies and actions.

    The US remains unwilling to face accountability for acts of torture, as it continues to detain 30 men in Guantánamo in conditions that amount to ongoing cruel treatment. It is long past due for a reckoning. The US is not above international law and must not be allowed to continue dodging justice.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • Looking for a penny’s worth of hope amid the genocide in Gaza

    Looking for a penny’s worth of hope amid the genocide in Gaza

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    In October 1973 – 40 years before the events of October 7, 2023 – war broke out in the Middle East. The Egyptian army launched Operation Badr, crossing the Suez Canal and capturing the Bar Lev Line, a fortified sand wall on the east bank of the canal.

    Palestinian refugees were full of hope that their land would soon be liberated and they would return to the homes from which Israel had expelled them. That did not happen. Instead, after the end of the war, Arab leaders sued for peace with Israel.

    A few months later, the Palestinian satirist Emile Habibi, published his novel The Secret Life of Saeed: The Pessoptomist, a metaphorical critique of the Palestinian reality. The novel tells the story of Saeed, a Palestinian who lost his village in the Nakba of 1948. Amid the misery of dispossession and occupation, he wanders through the world with his head bowed in case he finds a shekel on the street to cheer him up.

    I wake up every day trapped in the world of Saeed. The mass death in Gaza continues. Yet I must search for a penny on the ground, a signifier of better things to come. Could the January 26 ruling by the International Court of Justice (ICJ) be that?

    On December 13, Al Satar Al Sharki, the eastern part of my city, Khan Younis was subject to a ground invasion by the Israeli army. The four children of my relative Alaa, a teacher at a United Nations school, along with her ex-husband, Musa, were caught in the middle.

    During the attack, Israeli soldiers expelled the children from their home and arrested Musa along with all the teenage boys and men in the area. Musa’s mother, who was witness to this brutality, tried to call Alaa, but the soldiers took the phone. Since then, Alaa has heard nothing of her children – eight-year-old Yamin, six-year-old twins Kanan and Orkid and three-year-old Karmi. Are they ill, imprisoned, starving – or worse?

    Alaa’s desperate attempts over the past 45 days to find her children through organisations like the International Committee of the Red Cross and the Palestine Red Crescent Society (PRCS) were met with the usual cold rejection by the Israeli army. She reached out to journalists, local and social media, and now, she turns to anyone who will listen, walking in the streets of Rafah, turned into a concentration camp for more than one million people, looking for her children.

    Her voice is a relentless cry of despair in the darkness. Each passing hour etches another year on her soul as she battles the waves of anguish, barely pausing to eat or sleep. Like all of Gaza, she has become a living ghost.

    The ICJ ruling brought no relief to Alaa. The Israeli army still refuses to provide any information on the whereabouts of her children.

    “The State of Israel … must cease forthwith any acts and measures in breach of those obligations, including such acts or measures which would be capable of killing or continuing to kill Palestinians,” the court declared on January 26.

    Israel denies that it is engaged in such acts. Yet on January 29, Israeli tanks opened fire in Gaza City on a car full of civilians, trying to flee to safety.

    Fearing for their lives, they reached out to the PRCS, pleading for salvation. Fifteen-year-old Layan Hamadeh was on the phone with the PRCS when the tanks opened fire again. Screams can be heard in the recording of the call, then silence.

    Only six-year-old Hind Rajab, Layan’s cousin, survived. She spoke on the phone with the PRCS, telling them that her uncle and aunt and her four cousins had all been killed and she herself was injured.

    Six-year-old Hind Rajab has been missing since January 29 when the Israeli army opened fire on a car she was in, killing her relatives, in Gaza City [Courtesy of Ghada Ageel]

     

    PRCS staff set out to find her, but communications were cut off. More than a week later, Hind’s fate and the fate of the PRCS rescue team remain unknown. Her mother, Wissam, is living in hope that she will emerge alive. She is asking the same questions as Alaa is: Is Hind ill, injured, starving, imprisoned – or worse?

    Throughout Gaza, people are starving. The besieged Nasser Medical Complex and al-Amal Hospital in Khan Younis are now under attack. Supplies of food, medications, oxygen tanks, water, and essentials for staff, patients and thousands of displaced people have run out. Even more distressing, news reports indicate that the army is breaking into these hospitals and forcing people to leave.

    In Gaza, the air is thick with sorrow. Every heartbeat is a testament to resilience in the face of unimaginable loss.

    In Washington, the air is thick with betrayal. Every statement and every act by the US government, Palestinians believe, is a testament to brutality, cowardice and failure to uphold basic human values.

    After the ICJ decision mandating Israel to stop its genocidal activities and ordering provisional measures, including ordering the Israeli authorities, as the occupying power, to ensure the delivery of basic services and essential humanitarian aid to civilians, nothing has changed. Genocide in Gaza continues.

    I find myself walking, like Saeed, with my head bowed in the hope of finding a penny’s worth of hope.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • Palestinian men are not ‘terrorists in the making’

    Palestinian men are not ‘terrorists in the making’

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    In just under three months, more than 21,000 people have been killed in Gaza, and many more are facing the risk of disease and death due to Israel’s ongoing indiscriminate bombardment, ground invasion and siege. There has also been a significant increase in settler violence and the number of killings by Israeli forces in the Occupied West Bank.

    In media coverage and reports by human rights organisations, international institutions and NGOs, especially in the West, attention has mainly been drawn to Israel’s attacks on Palestinian women and children. Examples include the often-cited figure of more than 8,000 children having been killed and reports of many children having undergone amputations without anaesthesia.

    Even governments allied with Israel have voiced concern about the ever increasing number of dead Palestinian women and children. French President Emmanuel Macron, for example, said: “These babies, these ladies, these old people are bombed and killed. So there is no reason for that and no legitimacy.” While such statements rightly decry the killing of women and children in Palestine, they ignore the killing of men.

    Through this refusal to explicitly count and grieve their deaths, Palestinian men are denied civilian status. Their humanity is erased and they are portrayed collectively as “dangerous brown men” and “potential terrorists”.

    This, in turn, permits Israel’s killing of Palestinian men.

    Their killing is permitted precisely because they are Palestinian men. Their gendered and racialised status, specifically their blanket designation as “Hamas terrorists”, eclipses their civilian status, deeming them killable and un-grievable. Their killing is excused and justified within the context of “counterterrorism”.

    For example, Tzipi Hotovely, the Israeli ambassador to the United Kingdom, claimed in a televised interview in November that “over 50 percent” of the people Israel killed in Gaza in this latest round of violence were “terrorists”. For such a percentage to be remotely accurate, all dead men (and even older boys) in Gaza must be presumed “terrorists” or at least “terrorists in the making” .

    The blanket demonisation of men – underpinned by narratives about brown, especially Arab, men being inherently untrustworthy, dangerous and radical – is not new. These narratives, currently being used by Israel and its allies to excuse genocidal violence in Palestine, have consistently been used to justify the mass killing of brown men and boys over the years, including in the context of the so-called global “War on Terror” and the illegal invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan.

    This is not a coincidence. Colonialism and genocide require the erasure of people’s humanity and history. Israel’s settler colonialism maintains dominance through violence and it legitimises this violence by denying the existence of a Palestinian nation and designating Palestinians as less than human.

    In the past three months, Israel has killed, maimed and starved tens of thousands of Palestinians. In Gaza, Palestinian men, and women, are digging their loved ones from under bombed buildings and burying their children with their bare hands.

    Yet none of this has been recognised for what it is – grave crimes against civilians. And the experiences of Palestinian men are completely ignored. They are stripped of any complexity that underscores their humanity. They are not seen as the bakers, paramedics, journalists, poets, shopkeepers, fathers, sons and brothers they are, but branded en masse as “terrorists”. In life, they are reduced to  targets to be eliminated. In death, at best, they are deemed “collateral damage”. At worst, their violent killing is celebrated as a win against “terrorism”.

    Of course, like all human beings, Palestinian men have feelings. And yet, their fears, heartbreak, anxiety, frustration or shame are consistently erased from any narrative about them. The only emotion that is recognised in Palestinian men is anger. Yet this anger is not recognised as a rightful response to settler colonial violence and oppression. Instead, it is seen as an anger that is barbaric, irrational and dangerous. An anger that necessitates extreme measures to control, such as total sieges or carpet bombing.

    Israel’s decades-long occupation of Palestine and its apartheid regime mean that none of this is new. This latest chapter has merely accelerated a process of dehumanisation, demonisation and destruction that has long been under way.

    The tropes about Palestinian men, their inherent violence and barbaric anger have two major consequences. First,  they pose an existential threat to Palestinian men and boys in the occupied Palestinian territories and beyond because they permit their maiming and murder. Second, because they help designate half of the Palestinian population as dangerous and unreliable, they make an end to violence impossible.

    Going forward, the following measures are necessary to correct course:

    Narratives of “radicalisation” that are being used by Israel and its allies to justify violence, such as collective punishment, must be challenged. Any deal for the release of captives must include Palestinian men, such as hundreds being held in so-called administrative detention. When a further “humanitarian pause” or, hopefully, a permanent ceasefire is agreed, aid must be delivered to meet the needs of boys and men alongside those of the rest of the population. Illegal settlers should be held accountable for the violence they inflicted on the Palestinian people, including Palestinian men and boys who are disproportionately killed. In the longer term, Palestinians’ right to self-determination, the effects of militarisation on Israeli society, and the transgenerational effects of settler colonialism on Palestinian society need to be recognised.

    Today, Palestinians in Gaza and the rest of the occupied territories are living through unacceptable horrors. Israel’s current attacks on Gaza, as well as its decades-long occupation of Palestine and apartheid regime must come to an end. Palestinians – men, women and children – must be given the space to grieve what they have lost, heal their wounds and build a future for themselves. For this to be possible, first the humanity of Palestinians – all Palestinians – must be accepted. Palestinian men and boys, in life and in death, must be meaningfully recognised.

    The views expressed in this article are the authors’ own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • Keeping the hope for health alive

    Keeping the hope for health alive

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    2023 was a year of milestones and challenges in global public health.

    In May, I declared an end to COVID-19 as a public health emergency of international concern.

    This marked a turning point for the world following three years of crisis, pain and loss for people everywhere.

    I am glad to see that life has returned to normal.

    WHO also announced the Mpox outbreak no longer represented a global health emergency.

    And we approved new vaccines for malaria, dengue and meningitis, diseases that threaten millions around the world, mainly the most vulnerable.

    Azerbaijan, Tajikistan and Belize were declared malaria-free, and a range of neglected tropical diseases were eliminated in multiple countries, including sleeping sickness in Ghana, trachoma in Benin, Mali and Iraq, and lymphatic filariasis in Bangladesh and Laos.

    The path to eradicating another vaccine-preventable disease – polio – has reached its last mile.

    Thirty more countries introduced the HPV vaccine as the world advances towards eliminating cervical cancer.

    The need to address the health impacts of the climate crisis were elevated to the highest political levels, with governments, scientists and advocates putting health, for the first time, prominently on the COP28 agenda, and issuing a global declaration on climate and health.

    Heads of state at the United Nations General Assembly committed to advancing universal health coverage, ending tuberculosis and protecting the world from future pandemics.

    Each of these achievements, and many more, demonstrated the power of science, solutions and solidarity to protect and promote health.

    But 2023 has also been a year of immense and avoidable suffering and threats to health.

    The barbaric attacks by Hamas on Israel on October 7 left around 1,200 people dead and more than 200 taken hostage. Reports of gender-based violence and mistreatment of hostages are deplorable.

    This was followed by the unleashing of a devastating attack on Gaza, which has killed more than 21,000 people – mainly women and children – and injured over 55,000.

    At the same time, hospitals and health workers have been repeatedly attacked, while relief efforts are not coming close to meeting the needs of people.

    As of December 22, only nine of 36 health facilities in Gaza were partially functional, with only four offering the most basic of services in the north.

    For this reason, we call again for an immediate ceasefire.

    War and armed hostilities, sadly, have plagued too many other locations around the world, including Sudan, Ukraine, Ethiopia and Myanmar, to name but a few.

    I saw first-hand the suffering of war-weary people in northwest Syria who, like communities I also visited in neighbouring Türkiye, were devastated by the terrible earthquake in February.

    Without peace, there is no health, and without health, there can be no peace.

    Insecurity, poverty and lack of access to clean water and hygiene fanned the spread of infectious diseases in many countries.

    The resurgence of cholera is especially concerning, with a record number of 40-plus outbreaks around the world.

    And in terms of emergency preparedness and response, gaps remain in the world’s readiness to prevent the next pandemic.

    But 2024 offers a unique opportunity to address these gaps.

    Governments are negotiating the first-ever global agreement to protect communities, countries and the world from the threat posed by pandemics.

    The Pandemic Accord is being designed to bridge the gaps in global collaboration, cooperation and equity.

    The accord, and plans to strengthen the International Health Regulations, represent monumental actions by governments to create a safer and healthier world.

    And as WHO closes out our 75th year as the “world’s” health organisation, I extend by my sincere gratitude to health workers, partners and WHO colleagues, on our shared journey to achieve Health for All.

    Lastly, during this holiday season, I am sure that everyone will join me in hoping that the New Year will bring peace, health and prosperity for all people around the world.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • The IHRA definition of anti-Semitism has no place on Australian campuses

    The IHRA definition of anti-Semitism has no place on Australian campuses

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    In universities across the world, the definition of anti-Semitism put forward by the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) has been used to silence critical commentary on Israel’s human rights violations and war crimes. In Australia, the definition has been having a chilling effect on campuses across the country.

    Amid Israel’s relentless bombing of Gaza, which has killed nearly 16,000 people, including more than 6,000 children, students and staff who have organised in solidarity with the Palestinian people have faced pressure and intimidation.

    At the University of Melbourne, the highest-ranked institution of higher education in Oceania, the university’s administration has openly embraced the official Israeli narrative and refused to condemn what legal experts have called a textbook case of genocide. 

    While students and staff have tried to resist attempts at censorship and silencing, what is happening at the university is a good illustration of how the IHRA definition hurts academic freedom on campus and helps propagate colonial violence.

    The problem with the IHRA definition

    In November 2022, the Parliamentary Friends of IHRA group was created, consisting of members of the Australian parliament. One of its first tasks was to write to all Australian, universities, urging them to adopt the IHRA definition.

    Following this announcement, the peak body for Palestinians in Australia, the Australia Palestine Advocacy Network, asked to be included in university deliberations on the subject but its call was unheeded.

    Since then, five Australian universities have adopted the IHRA definition, while seven, including high-profile Australian National University and the University of Adelaide, have publicly rejected the call.

    The University of Melbourne was the first to publicly announce the adoption of the IHRA definition in January 2023. This was framed as the first step in its new antiracism initiative, with consultations to follow among Muslim staff and students in respect of a statement on Islamophobia.

    This approach highlighted the anti-Palestinianism at the heart of the university’s adoption of the IHRA definition as it implied that the Palestinian-Israeli conflict is sectarian in nature.

    Both Palestinian and Jewish academics have argued that the adoption of the IHRA definition undermines the fight against racism and have pointed to the context in which it was carried out – to impede campus activism challenging Israeli apartheid.

    As a group of university scholars in Australia have written: “[The] IHRA definition is not only vague but also not grounded in contemporary anti-racism scholarship or practice. It treats antisemitism as if it occurs in isolation from other forms of racism and disconnects the struggle against antisemitism from the struggle against other forms of racism.”

    Particularly in Australia, a settler colony, fighting racism must begin with – and be grounded in – solidarity with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.

    Kenneth Stern, author of the definition, has explained that it was never intended to be used for this purpose of limiting what can be said at universities. Using it in this way, he wrote, is deeply harmful for all.

    The IHRA is a problem not just in Australia, but across the Global North. In response to a report compiled for the #NoIHRA project, prepared by Independent Jewish Voices, Amos Goldberg, Professor of Holocaust History at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem noted “how powerful, cynical and vicious the weaponization of the fight against antisemitism for silencing critique of Israel and Zionism has become”.

    Censorship on campus

    Even before the IHRA definition was adopted by the University of Melbourne, there were already attempts at intimidation and silencing of those who speak out against Zionism on campus.

    In May 2022, the People of Colour department at the University of Melbourne’s Student Union (UMSU) passed a motion, rigorously supported by evidence gathered by international human rights organisations, that criticised political Zionism and called for participation in the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions (BDS) movement. Threats of a costly lawsuit from a Liberal Party member intimidated UMSU into rescinding their motion.

    This tactic of lawfare has had a chilling effect on campuses, restricting political freedom. A Palestinian master’s student described to us the impact of such actions on his student experience: “I’ve been made to feel that my life and that of my people is less worthy and less valuable than that of Israeli and Zionist students on campus.”

    The adoption of the IHRA definition has only further encouraged the trend of curbing the freedom of expression on campus.

    For Palestinian and Muslim students and staff whose criticism of Zionism is silenced by accusations of anti-Semitism, not only is their expertise challenged but their experiences of racism are often dismissed. As one academic described to us:

    “I have lived experiences of racism and Islamophobia. I know first-hand how much these actions hurt. So, I don’t take it lightly to be accused of hate or racism…. It is unfair and traumatic that those of us who have been subjects of racism are now being silenced through accusations of racism.”

    Both Palestinian and Jewish students and staff are harmed by the IHRA definition’s mischaracterisation of their lived experiences. As a Jewish academic noted to us: “In the past I’ve had frivolous complaints from Zionist students about my lectures, and given what we know about complaints under IHRA overseas (that they are plentiful but “unreasonable”) there is a concern about the effects for all, most particularly Palestinians, with rising complaints. This is not the way to address anti-Semitism.”

    Other academics feel a similar pressure in the classroom. One in the School of Social and Political Sciences shared that “it’s always challenging teaching in the area of political violence and it’s not always comfortable for students to critically reflect on governments or nations they might identify with, but now I am worried about having to tailor my teaching so it’s less critical to avoid being targeted and smeared with charges of anti-Semitism”.

    The risks to students include the future of their education. A law student involved in a recent Gaza fundraiser that was targeted by Zionists on campus shared concerns about possible disciplinary action: “We were all apprehensive about the potential consequences organising the fundraiser would have on our enrolment at the university.”

    Speaking against Israel’s justifications for the ongoing massacre of Palestinians is now cited by precariously employed academics at the University of Melbourne as yet another reason for work-related stress and anxiety.

    The pushback against the IHRA definition

    While students and staff at the University of Melbourne and elsewhere have been facing the added pressure of the IHRA definition, they have not stayed silent on the brutal Israeli war on Gaza.

    On October 25, Vice-Chancellor Duncan Maskell issued a statement “concerning the Israel-Gaza war” in which he presented Israel as the injured party defending itself against an “act of terrorism committed by Hamas”. He expressed no criticism of Israel’s actions, which have been defined as amounting to genocide by legal experts.

    The statement caused outrage across campus. An open letter was drafted in response and signed by more than 2,500 staff, students and alumni.

    “We express our grave concern about how this misrepresentation of Israel’s genocidal attack against the people of Palestine will contribute to further loss of life in Gaza and harm to Palestinian students, staff and alumni of the University,” it stated.

    The open letter also invited signatories to include a statement in their university email signature that calls on the university to rescind its adoption of the IHRA definition of anti-Semitism.

    The public list of names in the open letter challenges the censorship instilled by the IHRA definition and aims to defend academic freedom on campus. Beyond the letter, other groups on campus also spoke up.

    The criminology discipline at the University of Melbourne, for example, unified in their stance against the vice-chancellor’s statement, collectively issued a response, tweeting:

    “We are particularly concerned by the conflation of criticism of Israel’s policies and actions with antisemitism, and the policing of solidarity with Palestine. As Criminology activists and scholars, we stand united against the criminalisation and silencing of the right to speak truth to power.”

    It is telling that the National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU), which has increasingly been representative of low-income casual workers, joined over 100 trade unions in Australia that came out to unequivocally condemn Israel’s bloodiest assault on Gaza.

    As Palestinian trade unions call on workers internationally to escalate economic pressure by leveraging their labour power, there is an urgency for higher education workers to also go beyond verbal condemnation.

    As Israel’s indiscriminate killing of Palestinians in Gaza, as well as the West Bank, continues, the IHRA definition of anti-Semitism is emerging as a clear obstacle to critical scholarship and action in resisting and denouncing such atrocities. The use of this definition has no place on Australian campuses.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • It is time the US considers Hamas’s survival in Gaza

    It is time the US considers Hamas’s survival in Gaza

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    Three days into the four-day truce between Israel and Hamas, the agreement appears to hold and there is even talk of extending it. By Monday, 50 Israeli women and children are supposed to have been exchanged for 150 Palestinian women and children, with mediators hinting that the deal could continue for a few more days through the same formula.

    Although the conditions of the truce resemble similar ones put forward by Qatari mediators in recent weeks, Israel’s war cabinet has insisted it was the result of military pressure it had exerted on Hamas. But only a few weeks ago, the government was vowing to free its hostages by force.

    By assenting to the terms of the release, Israel has shown that it can, in fact, negotiate with Hamas, tacitly conceding that it is no closer to eradicating a group that has gone, quite literally, underground. If anything, by laying waste to much of Gaza City and, with it, the institutions of Hamas governance, Israel’s actions have only made the group more elusive.

    That much was made clear by the Israeli army’s siege and raid of Gaza’s al-Shifa Hospital, which failed to produce conclusive evidence that there was a Hamas-operated command centre there, as it had claimed. Instead, the operation against al-Shifa, which was anticlimactic at best, added to growing scepticism that Israel, with American backing, can uproot Hamas from Gaza.

    It is time this reality is recognised in the halls of power in Washington. The Biden administration must abandon unrealistic Israeli rhetoric about “ending Hamas” and embrace a more attainable political solution that factors in the movement’s survival.

    Mounting deaths, shifting public opinion

    Proof of Israel’s faltering mission can be found in the war’s bloody dividends. Its air and ground assault, which Defence Minister Yoav Gallant vowed would wipe Hamas “off the face of the earth”, has so far failed to halt Palestinian fighters’ ambushes of Israeli positions or the near-daily volley of rockets lobbed at Israeli cities.

    Now in its seventh week, the war has instead killed more than 14,800 Palestinians, including some 6,100 children, levelled residential neighbourhoods and refugee camps, and displaced more than a million people across the besieged strip.

    Military analysts had claimed that the massive bombing campaign would “soften” Hamas positions ahead of Israel’s ground invasion, limiting the group’s ability to wage urban warfare in the densely built enclave. But in recent weeks, some US officials, echoing reports in the Israeli media, have started to concede that Israel’s unrelenting bombing has failed to neutralise Hamas’s battle capabilities.

    Tolerance for Israel’s actions also appears to be declining. On November 10, French President Emmanuel Macron became the first G-7 leader to call for a ceasefire. On November 24, the prime ministers of Spain and Belgium criticised Israel’s “indiscriminate killing of innocent civilians” and the destruction of “the society of Gaza”. Pedro Sánchez, the Spanish premier, even vowed to unilaterally recognise Palestinian statehood.

    In the US, the Biden administration may be standing by their Israeli ally, but public opinion is swiftly shifting in favour of a permanent ceasefire. Mass demonstrations calling for a ceasefire have been held across the country and several large US cities, including Atlanta, Detroit and Seattle, have passed resolutions echoing this call.

    A recent poll showed that only 32 percent of Americans believe their country “should support Israel” in its war on Gaza. Having left little daylight between his stance on the war and Israel’s prosecution of it, US President Joe Biden has already seen his poll numbers slip.

    Public pressure may have encouraged not only Washington to push for the hostage exchange, but also the Israeli government to accept it. In addition to the backlash he has faced from families of the Hamas-held hostages, reports indicate that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was pressed on the exchange by Israel’s security services and military.

    Although Netanyahu, Gallant, and former Defence Minister Benny Gantz, who sits in the current war cabinet, have all declared that the war on Hamas would continue, public pressure could make them walk back on this intention, too.

    The conflict is already taking a heavy toll on the Israeli economy, which is losing over a quarter billion dollars a day. It is expected to contract by 1.5 percent in 2024, as the fighting has disrupted air travel and cargo and the recent hijacking of an Israeli-linked ship may even threaten sea transportation.

    Then there are the tens of thousands of Israelis displaced from areas along the Gaza and Lebanon borders as well as all the families of the hostages calling for all to be released. The ongoing truce has demonstrated that Israelis held captive can be easily freed without firing a shot. This could help sway Israeli public opinion – which so far has been overwhelmingly in favour of the war – towards a ceasefire.

    Some Israeli analysts are already noting a shift favouring a truce extension. Indeed, continuing on the path of negotiations would limit the country’s mounting economic losses and safeguard the lives of both its captives and soldiers. The Israeli military has admitted to the deaths of 70 soldiers since the start of the ground invasion.

    The path to a ceasefire

    Another problem with the Israeli government’s insistence on continuing the war is that it has not actually laid out an endgame that is acceptable to its allies, including the US.

    Apart from the declared goal of “eradicating” Hamas from Gaza, Israeli officials have also indicated that they wish to expel the Palestinian population into Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula.

    Pressure from Arab allies quickly quashed US support for this idea as well as for Israeli plans to claim indefinite “security responsibility” in Gaza. The Biden administration’s alternative – for the Ramallah-based Palestinian Authority to assume control of the enclave – has been roundly rejected by both Israel and Hamas, which, in the absence of Israeli reoccupation, would remain the only power broker in Gaza.

    Instead of recognising this, the US has stubbornly refused to float any policy proposals that factor in Hamas’s survival. In that wilful blindness, Washington is joined by a chorus of pundits who continue to put forth “solutions” that presuppose Hamas’s destruction. But given the still-fresh memory of Afghanistan, US policymakers should know all too well that eradicating a homegrown resistance movement is, ultimately, impossible.

    More possible would be to build on the example of the current hostage deal, which showed that both Israel and Hamas have the political will to negotiate. By working with mediators Qatar and Egypt, the US can help move the conversation around Gaza beyond the disastrous “with us or against us” rhetoric that characterised America’s war on terror and into discussions about a long-term ceasefire, one that would need to be brokered through Hamas’s political leadership-in-exile.

    There is precedent for this. Recall that, in December 2012, Israel allowed Hamas’s then-leader Khaled Meshaal to return to Gaza as part of a negotiated truce after that year’s eight-day war. Whether current exiled leader Ismail Haniyeh can moderate the position of his Gaza counterpart, Yahya Sinwar, who is widely believed to have masterminded the October 7 attacks, will depend on Haniyeh’s ability to secure international relief and reconstruction funds.

    Just as important will be a US commitment to rein in Israel’s extremist policies, including its siege of Gaza and backing for settler violence in the occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem. Once such a de-escalation happens, it will become critical for the international community to uphold its commitment to Gaza’s reconstruction and development, easing the desperate conditions that helped give rise to the October 7 attacks.

    To be sure, no vision for a peaceful future can abide the murder of civilians. But finding a way out of the current crisis means reckoning with the reality laid bare by this war’s first seven weeks: There is no way to wipe Hamas “off the face of the earth” that does not take untold numbers of Palestinian – and Israeli – lives with it.

    If Hamas’s long-term survival strains the imagination, the risks of simply avoiding the thought are even more unimaginable. Although this is clearly not a widely held sentiment in Israel right now, some Israelis, like former government advisor and Bar-Ilan University professor Menachem Klein, are coming around to the idea. Speaking to Al Jazeera after the first Israeli hostages were released, Klein conceded that it is “impossible to totally destroy Hamas by force”. The path forward, he argued, should include the group in renewed negotiations around a Palestinian state.

    Given the horrific suffering endured by the people of Gaza, growing international and domestic pressure to end it, and the still-looming prospect of a broader regional conflict, the US can no longer insist that eliminating Hamas is the only path to ending this war.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • Al-Ahli hospital bombing: Israel performing its usual post-atrocity routine

    Al-Ahli hospital bombing: Israel performing its usual post-atrocity routine

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    On the evening of Tuesday, October 17 a strike on Gaza’s al-Ahli Arab Hospital, often called the Baptist Hospital, killed at least 500 people, mostly children and women.

    The scenes from the massacre, as described by witness and displayed in videos broadcast by news networks, were as grisly as can be imagined.

    Images revealed body parts scattered across the hospital grounds and doctors performing emergency surgeries in corridors without anaesthesia. Video footage from inside the hospital showed Palestinian parents screaming and crying at the side of their dead children.

    Palestinian officials blamed the explosion on one of the many Israeli bombs dropped on Gaza since October 7.

    Israel, meanwhile, has predictably claimed that a misfired Palestinian rocket was responsible for the massacre at the hospital.

    Israel’s response to the hospital bombing – a war crime under international law – is consistent with its usual.

    The routine goes something like this: Israel commits a human rights atrocity, immediately denies having anything to do with it, says it has solid evidence that Palestinians committed the crime, and then just waits to see if someone manages to prove what really happened. If it eventually becomes clear that Israel did indeed carry out the atrocity, it silently accepts responsibility, but by then, the world’s focus has already moved on to other matters.

    Israel performed this exact routine just last year, after it murdered Palestinian-American journalist and Al Jazeera veteran Shireen Abu Akleh.

    Immediately after the May 2022 murder, then-Israeli Prime Minister Neftali Bennett blamed Palestinians for “throwing blame at Israel without basis.” At the time, Bennett said, “according to the information we have gathered, it appears likely that armed Palestinians – who were firing indiscriminately at the time – were responsible for the unfortunate death of the journalist.”  Then-Defence Minister Benny Gantz stated confidently that “no [Israeli] gunfire was directed at the journalist,” and that the Israeli army had “seen footage of indiscriminate shooting by Palestinian terrorists”.

    Later in 2022, though, and following multiple independent investigations proving without a shadow of doubt that Abu Akleh had been killed by Israeli fire, the Israeli government finally admitted that it was a “high possibility” that it was an Israeli bullet that killed the journalist wearing a clearly marked press vest and helmet.

    Nevertheless, Israel’s initial denials were picked up prominently by Western media outlets, casting significant doubt over Israel’s culpability in the murder.

    The same routine was also followed in 2003, when Israel murdered 23-year-old American student Rachel Corrie. Corrie was crushed by an Israeli bulldozer as she tried to prevent the illegal demolitions of Palestinian homes. Immediately after killing Corrie, the Israeli army had said it was an unfortunate accident caused by Corrie herself.

    In September 2000, during the second Palestinian intifada, the Arab world was moved by images of a 12-year-old Palestinian boy, Mohammed Al-Durrah, crying and hiding behind his father, Jamal Al-Durrah, before ultimately being shot and killed by an Israeli sniper.

    Mohammed’s murder at the hands of the Israeli army was clearly caught on video. But even this did not prevent Israel from following its usual routine and trying to deflect responsibility.

    In the immediate aftermath of the child’s murder, Israeli officials claimed that it was “significantly more likely that Palestinian gunmen were the source of the [gunfire that killed Al-Durrah].”

    Over the years, the same scenario played out over and over again as Israel repeatedly committed atrocities, denied responsibility and walked back its baseless denials only when the evidence to the contrary became too compelling and the world’s attention had moved elsewhere.

    This course of action proved beneficial for Israel as it bought it precious time in the court of public opinion. With Israeli voices dominating Western media reports, this post-atrocity routine helped Israel create a contested media narrative, and cast doubt over clear evidence of its crimes and excesses.

    In this sense, the Western media coverage of and narrative on the al-Ahli Hospital bombing has been predictable.

    There is already a large body of academic research suggesting mainstream Western news media sympathise with Israel and largely ignore or downplay its human rights violations against Palestinians.

    Over the first 10-days of the current crisis, Western media behaved as anticipated. Outlets privileged Israeli point of views, suppressed Palestinian voices, and repeatedly talked of “Israeli self-defence” and “Palestinian aggression”.

    In the days before the hospital bombing, BBC News ran multiple reports about alleged Hamas tunnels under public buildings, including schools and hospitals. It doesn’t need much explaining how this kind of uncritical repeating of Israeli propaganda by Western media organisations helps Israel perform its deceptive post-atrocity-routine effectively.

    When the dust settles, independent investigations will inevitably show that Israel, which had already been bombing across Gaza’s residential buildingsmosquesbanks, and universities, and had already killed thousands of Gaza Palestinians, including 750 children, is responsible for bombing al-Ahli Hospital.

    And when the dust settles, Western media likely won’t give as much light to Israel’s guilt as it did to its denials.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • Corruption is as American as apple pie

    Corruption is as American as apple pie

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    On September 22, influential United States Senator Bob Menendez was indicted on corruption charges along with his wife, Nadine. It is the second time Menendez, the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, has faced such charges.

    As per the indictment from the US Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York, Menendez and his wife received hundreds of thousands of dollars in bribes from three New Jersey businessmen in the form of gold, cash, a luxury vehicle and assorted other goodies. In exchange, the Democrat from New Jersey allegedly used his position of power to benefit the three businessmen as well as the government of Egypt, the home country of one of the men in question.

    As the old saying goes, power tends to corrupt.

    According to US mythology, of course, corruption is entirely the business of other, less civilised nations – particularly enemies of the US – that lack the proper commitment to democracy, the rule of law, and all that nice and noble stuff.

    But here’s a news flash for those sectors of the domestic audience scandalised by the Menendez revelations: Corruption is about as American as apple pie. (And a related newsflash: Menendez or no Menendez, the US has spent decades flinging billions of dollars at Egypt’s repressive apparatus – which should constitute a scandal in itself.)

    To be sure, Menendez is hardly the only bad apple in this pie. Take Clarence Thomas, the US Supreme Court justice whose corrupt exploits have been thoroughly investigated by the New York-based nonprofit ProPublica. One recent ProPublica report notes that, “like clockwork, Thomas’ leisure activities have been underwritten by benefactors who share the ideology that drives his jurisprudence”.

    The report goes on to document said “leisure activities”, which have included at least 38 vacations, 26 private jet flights, eight helicopter flights, and various excursions to luxury resorts, sporting events and so on. Billionaire real estate tycoon Harlan Crow, an enthusiastic collector of Nazi paraphernalia, is but one of the filthy rich right-wing contributors to Thomas’s seemingly eternal “leisure”. Crow has also funded numerous other favours, such as paying for Thomas’s grandnephew to attend an exclusive private boarding school.

    In September, ProPublica revealed that Thomas had secretly participated in donor summits for the Koch network, founded by the billionaire Koch brothers and devoted to driving US policy ever more to the right. And what do you know? The Koch strategy includes bringing cases before the very court on which Thomas sits to impact US law.

    So much for that silly old concept of “conflict of interest”.

    At the end of the day, though, Thomas’s antics are merely of a piece with US capitalism, which is predicated on maintaining a tyranny of the elite under the guise of democracy. In other words, it’s about as corrupt a system as you can get.

    That anyone can still apply the term “democracy” to the US with a straight face is, meanwhile, a testament to the corruption of language itself. After all, you can’t very well have “rule by the people” in a country where the Supreme Court reverses campaign finance restrictions and political influence is transparently up for sale.

    The list of offenders goes on. There’s Samuel Alito, another Supreme Court justice who this year was exposed as having also accepted undisclosed gifts from billionaire hedge fund manager and Republican Party mega-donor Paul Singer. After being treated by Singer to a luxury fishing trip in Alaska in 2008, Alito ruled in favour of Singer’s hedge fund in a case before the Supreme Court.

    And then there’s Ken Paxton, the Texas attorney general acquitted of corruption charges on September 16 in a historic impeachment trial, in which he was accused of bribery, obstruction of justice, abuse of public trust and other misdeeds.

    Allegations ranged from shady dealings with a real estate developer in Texas and misuse of power to retaliate against whistleblowers.

    An ally of former US President Donald Trump and an accomplice in the effort to overturn the 2020 election results, Paxton remains under FBI investigation on separate corruption charges and faces trial on allegations of felony securities fraud. After the Texas Senate acquitted the state’s top law enforcement official, Trump took to his social media platform to celebrate with typical eloquence: “The Ken Paxton Victory is sooo BIG. WOW!!!”

    The online version of the Merriam-Webster dictionary offers several definitions of the word “corruption”. The first is “dishonest or illegal behaviour especially by powerful people”; the second is “inducement to wrong by improper or unlawful means”.

    Further down the dictionary entry is another option consisting of just two words: “decay, decomposition”. And as US officials get away with all manner of bribery scandals and the frenetic injection of right-wing money into politics sustains a brutal plutocracy, the whole scene does indeed reek of decay.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • The West’s climate crisis is bad news for the Global South too

    The West’s climate crisis is bad news for the Global South too

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    The global investment and lending systems are on the verge of a climate-centric metamorphosis as the consequences of global warming on economies around the world become impossible to overlook.

    That change should be good news but it is the economically-challenged Global South that could bear the heaviest burden of this shift.

    Before 2021, climate change was primarily regarded as a concern that disproportionately affected the Global South. International financial institutions and advanced economies directed significant amounts of their finance earmarked for climate-related mitigation and investments towards vulnerable areas to enhance their ability to adapt.

    However, the past two years have brought about a radical shift. The year 2023, specifically, has witnessed an unprecedented surge in dramatic climate change effects across North America, Europe, the Middle East and East Asia. Prolonged heatwaves, floods, raging wildfires and devastating hurricanes have struck these wealthier regions, leaving them bewildered.

    Against this backdrop, it should surprise no one if richer nations redirect financing that was previously allocated for the Global South’s adaptation efforts, channelling it instead towards domestic recovery efforts.

    The shift is already noticeable in mechanisms like multilateral climate funds, as highlighted recently by the struggles of the Green Climate Fund (GCF) in securing pledges from rich countries for its upcoming funding cycle. Remember, there are only limited dedicated sources of climate financing to begin with.

    And while accessing funding from such platforms is exceedingly challenging, they play a crucial role and may be the only lifeline for many vulnerable regions. If these funds run dry, the Global South will have no doors left to knock on. The Loss and Damage (L&D) Fund, established just last year, might also fall prey to this changing landscape. To some degree, it already has.

    The fund doesn’t yet have enough commitments, let alone necessary capital, to address climate change. Additionally, it regularly encounters dismissive comments from rich countries concerning contributions. The United States, in particular, remains opposed to the idea of holding historical emitters responsible for the current climate landscape, or compensating countries affected by disasters.

    COP28 is expected to include the operationalisation of the L&D fund on its agenda. It will be intriguing to witness how delegates will navigate the challenge of operationalising a fund that’s nearly empty.

    Another implication of the climate-driven transformation of financial systems, which could have the most significant impact on the Global South, relates to concessional elements within global debt.

    For institutional lenders like the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank, climate exposures are becoming increasingly evident through an elevated probability of loans that borrowers are not able to repay due to hardships.

    Such challenges stem from borrowers facing recurring climate-induced disasters or depreciation of their existing assets caused by the escalation of global inflation, which itself may be driven by climate change.

    Lenders face a quandary. On the one hand, their core mandate is to provide financial assistance to countries in need. However, they must also exercise caution when extending loans to countries that may be unable to repay them.

    Consequently, as a delicate balancing act, institutions are now moving away from the concessional nature of debt instruments, relinquishing their prior leniency.

    Pakistan serves as a notable example.

    Last year’s floods plunged the country into poly-crises, pushing it dangerously close to a sovereign debt default. Ultimately, the economic collapse was averted through the approval of a $3bn loan program by the IMF.

    One would expect that the IMF would provide this amount on favourable terms to help alleviate Pakistan’s economic woes. However, the reality is quite the opposite.

    Reforms tied to the bailout package have resulted in a surge in annual inflation in Pakistan, reaching a historic high of 38 percent in May. Interest rates have also climbed, and the Pakistani rupee has reached unprecedented lows, with a 6.2 percent decline against the US dollar last month.

    Climate-vulnerable African nations present other cases in point. According to the IMF’s own assessment, 13 African countries are currently teetering on the edge of climate and debt distress. Drought-stricken Zambia and, more recently, flood-prone Ghana have already defaulted on their debt payments.

    The prospect of debt pardoning, a plea the debt-burdened Global South fervently advocates for, is not one that lenders like. The climate has changed, not the tenets of capitalism.

    “We want to pay,’’ said Kenyan President William Ruto during the New Global Financial Pact Summit in June. ‘’But we need a new financial model,’’ he argued. “The current financial architecture is unfair, punitive and inequitable.’’

    To be sure, the Global South will need to depend on its internal resources for the most part to drive climate investments. These countries must look to break free from the relentless cycle of debt and climate crises.

    Yet, to accomplish this, they need a financial system founded not on the principle of survival of the fittest, but rather on equitable opportunities for all.

    Mere sympathy from the rich will no longer suffice. What the Global South needs, and rightfully deserves, is systemised empathy.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • We should all support Biden’s war on Big Pharma

    We should all support Biden’s war on Big Pharma

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    “This time, we beat Big Pharma”, United States President Joe Biden tweeted, after finally giving his government the power to negotiate the price of 10 prescription drugs, including medicines used to treat diabetes, blood cancer and kidney disease.

    Through these negotiations, it’s expected that millions of Americans will save a small fortune, as the price of drugs provided through the government’s national insurance programme tumble. The pharmaceutical giants are furious. For decades they have been able to charge Americans with public insurance whatever the market will bear for their products. Big Pharma, as these giants are known by their detractors, has now launched multiple legal actions to protect its monopoly power.

    By European standards, Biden’s actions are moderate. Most countries negotiate the price of drugs purchased by public health systems. While drug prices are still high across Europe, putting severe strain on overburdened health systems, they are a fraction of the price paid by Americans. What makes Biden’s action so significant is precisely that, up to now, Big Pharma has always had the upper hand in the US, using its power to extract whatever profits it likes from the American public. Despite the unpopularity of the industry, only a few brave politicians would stand up to it.

    What’s changed? First, it’s difficult to overstate the impact of the so-called “opioid crisis” on American society. Hundreds of thousands of Americans have died from opioid overdoses. The real scandal is that the major contributor to this epidemic was a drug company called Purdue Pharma, which spent years pushing an opioid called OxyContin on patients. The drug is so strong and addictive that it shouldn’t be prescribed for any but the most serious, end-of-life, pain. But Purdue spent a fortune cajoling doctors into prescribing the drug for even moderate pain, pretending there was little chance of getting hooked. The levels of addiction and death that followed hollowed out whole towns, as can be seen in the recent dramatisation by Netflix, Painkiller.

    So the opioid crisis has created mass hostility to the pharma industry. But there’s something deeper going on too, a realisation that these corporations, which we assume are inventing the life-saving medicines of the future, are actually seriously failing in that task.

    A big wake-up moment was the COVID-19 pandemic. In the run-up to the pandemic, Big Pharma had little interest in researching pathogens that might cause a major epidemic, or indeed in researching vaccines full stop. They simply didn’t represent the sort of jackpot that, say, a new cancer drug could produce.

    The research that had been done into coronaviruses was carried out with public money. Once the pandemic struck, that public funding was multiplied many times over: Big Pharma was handed billions of dollars to bring vaccines to us as fast as possible. But then, the intellectual property was privatised. Big Pharma owned vaccines created using public money, and got to decide who produced them, at what price, and who got to buy them. Corporate executives, employed to maximise their shareholder returns were in charge of who lived and who died.

    The Biden administration was horrified when Moderna’s vaccine – almost entirely paid for by the public purse – was making Moderna’s CEO into a multibillionaire, while the US government seemingly had little power to get the vaccine know-how shared and produced more widely. Moderna seemed more interested in legal action to shore up its control of this technology – even going as far as refusing to recognise three government scientists as co-inventors on some of its patents.

    Pfizer’s vaccine did involve some private funds but was still made with vast sums of public money. Imagine the horror of the US administration when Pfizer tried to charge the government an eye-popping $100 a dose – on a vaccine that seems to have cost somewhere between $0.95 and $4 to produce. One former official accused them of “war profiteering” while another complained, “It’s not even their vaccine.”

    COVID-19 was not a one-off. Almost all medicines receive substantial public funding. Meanwhile, the folks we think create medicines – Big Pharma – actually invent very few new drugs. Rather, these corporations behave like hedge funds – buying up the monopoly rights to produce medicines which others have made. They then aggressively squeeze everything they can out of this intellectual property – even if it means the vast majority of humanity has no access to medicines.

    Just look at the drug known as Humira, a treatment for diseases like Crohn’s and rheumatoid arthritis. The technology behind Humira was created at Cambridge University, and the drug itself was devised by a spin-off company. At some point in the 2000s, AbbVie effectively bought the company and the rights to Humira. They spent some money on the drug but, according to a US congressional committee, a large part of that money was “dedicated to extending the company’s market monopoly.” They then jacked up the price 470 percent from its launch price. In the US, Humira costs around $77,000 for a year’s supply. Even in Europe, the price means the drug, where available, is often rationed.

    The distrust that this behaviour had bred is by no means restricted to Biden’s administration. Price-jacking on insulin in the US forces one in four US diabetics to ration their medication. To overcome the problem, California, Michigan and Maine have all started looking at public manufacturing, with California allocating $100m to make insulin through a public enterprise at close to cost price, available to all.

    While Big Pharma is ripping off Americans, and breaking health systems across Europe, it’s also failing to provide the medicines people across the world most need. The search for goldmine drugs means research into diseases suffered by less wealthy people, in less wealthy countries, takes a back seat. So does research into potentially catastrophic epidemics or new-generation antibiotics. Even though antibiotic resistance is likely to lead to tens of millions of deaths a year in coming decades, it’s simply not profitable enough for corporations used to making eye-watering returns.

    Biden’s recent action against Big Pharma is a sign that things may be beginning to change. But he’ll have to go much further if we’re to build a medicine model which realises the right to healthcare of everyone in the world. Across the world, governments need to back medical research and development, build public manufacturing infrastructure and ensure that the know-how produced is open knowledge, fostering sharing and cooperation. The medicines we need are too important to be treated as financial assets. It’s time for change.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • The key to saving youth from violent paths? Inclusive higher education

    The key to saving youth from violent paths? Inclusive higher education

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    In our pursuit of transforming the future of education, we must confront the stark reality of global youth unrest. Recent events in countries like France have highlighted the deep divisions and fragmentation faced by young adults. The unfortunately frequent instances of youth responding to violence with violence, mirror their profound frustration and yearning for change.

    This surge of unrest is not exclusive to France – it is a global trend. The tragic deaths of individuals like Nahel in France, George Floyd in the United States and Mohamed Bouazizi in Tunisia, to name just a few instances, have ignited worldwide reactions, sparking movements that demand justice and equality from those who feel unheard and unseen.

    In the face of these issues, higher education institutions – colleges and universities – have a unique and critical role to play. These places are not mere centres of learning but potent catalysts for transformation. Education today must provide young adults with the necessary knowledge, skills, and critical thinking abilities to engage in constructive dialogue and tackle complex problems.

    To effectively drive positive change, higher education must foster inclusive environments that value diversity and create spaces where all voices are heard and respected. Too many young adults feel overlooked and anxious about the future.

    These tragic events in different parts of the world have laid bare the systemic issues that afflict our societies. They have kindled a fire in the hearts of young people, inspiring them to seek solutions and demand change.

    This is a generation that refuses to be silenced; a generation ready to challenge the status quo and fight for a brighter future. Leaders in all sectors must support them in finding their voice and the opportunities to fulfil their purpose responsibly.

    As we process the news and share in the collective anger and pain, we know that violent responses are merely expressions of the frustration and anger felt by those who feel they have no other way to voice their grievances.

    Yet any transformation will not stem from conference room conversations and auditorium speeches. It will need a recognition of the overlooked potential of education and employment, especially among the growing young population. It will come when we challenge the quiet acceptance of chronic obstacles in education and embrace greater diversity and inclusion among higher education leadership.

    Higher education institutions must up their game and focus on practical solutions if they are to serve as the foundation for the leaders of today and tomorrow to engage in resilient, inclusive and forward-thinking innovations that cultivate peace, security, and sustainable development.

    When these institutions foster an environment that not only educates but also empowers students to address societal issues, they cultivate leaders who make themselves and their communities resistant to recruitment tactics for radicalisation and violence.

    Higher education has always aimed to equip students with the tools to dissect and understand complex problems, foster critical thinking and facilitate open dialogue. The world’s leading institutions empower students to become active contributors in their communities, promoting civic engagement and human rights.

    This is most effective when there is a genuine, deep connection between the theoretical aspects of higher education and the realities of the non-academic setting – the world of work and growth opportunities surrounding these eager young minds.

    The World Bank has highlighted youth unemployment in Arab states and its potential radicalisation implications. Universities and colleges can counteract this by prioritising practical skills aligned with job market demands, moving beyond purely academic teachings.

    Discussions like those at the United Nations Transforming Education Summit in September 2022 are important but need to result in concrete actions.

    One such action is the work of the Abdulla Al Ghurair Foundation, partnering with 24 universities as part of their outreach to provide 200,000 Arab youth with accessible professional learning for high-demand jobs.

    As part of this effort, the foundation leverages participatory design methods to promote wider offerings of professional graduate diplomas that have employment outcomes for these youth. One such approach is in artificial intelligence and data science from the American University of Beirut, which includes regionally relevant applications and the integration of ethics as a core component, with connections to real market opportunities.

    We must fervently engage with our youth, especially those who may feel sidelined or despondent, ensuring they feel embraced and empowered. Diversity is the key to understanding and connecting with the lived reality of those who were not born with privilege.

    To truly transform higher education, we need practical leadership in higher education that empathises with the passion of youth who are grappling with extreme climates, high unemployment and profound disenchantment.

    By nurturing inclusive environments that equip them with the tools and market practice to navigate real-world challenges, we can empower the youth to become positive agents of change and progress.

    If we want to see real change, we must be willing to challenge existing norms within these institutions and break down some longstanding barriers to higher education.

    If we don’t, we risk seeing further outbursts of anger and violence from a disappointed segment of society, ultimately causing harm to both themselves and the world around them.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • Forgetting the Ottoman past has done the Arabs no good

    Forgetting the Ottoman past has done the Arabs no good

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    Imperialism is a difficult subject to tackle in the Arab world. The word conjures up associations with the days of French and British colonialism and the present-day settler colony of Israel. Yet the more indigenous and long-lasting form of imperial rule, Ottoman imperialism, is often left out of contemporary historical debates.

    Some of the states that succeeded the Ottoman Empire have chosen to sum up Ottoman rule in local curricula as simply Ottoman or Turkish “occupation”, while others repeat well-rehearsed tropes of “Ottoman atrocities” that continue to have popular purchase on a local level.

    In places like Syria and Lebanon, probably the best-known Ottoman official is military commander Ahmed Cemal (Jamal) Pasha, infamously nicknamed “al-Saffah” (the Butcher). His wartime governorship of the provinces of Syria and Beirut was marked by political violence and executions of Arab-Ottoman politicians and intellectuals and remains in public memory as the symbol of Ottoman rule.

    But as historian Salim Tamari has pointed out, it is wrong to reduce “four centuries of relative peace and dynamic activity [during] the Ottoman era” to “four miserable years of tyranny symbolized by the military dictatorship of Ahmad Cemal Pasha in Syria”.

    Indeed, Ottoman imperial history in the Arab world cannot be boiled down to a “Turkish occupation” or a “foreign yolk”. We cannot grapple with this 400-year history from 1516 to 1917 without coming to terms with the fact that it was a homegrown form of imperial rule.

    A substantial number of the members of the imperial ruling class were in fact Arab-Ottomans, who hailed from the Arabic-speaking-majority parts of the empire, like the Malhamés of Beirut and al-Azms of Damascus.

    They, and many others, were active members of the Ottoman imperial project, who designed, planned, implemented, and supported imperial Ottoman rule in the region and across the empire.

    Al-Azms held some of the highest positions in the empire’s Levantine provinces, including the governorship of Syria, for several generations. The Istanbul branch of the family, known as Azmzades, also held key positions in the palace, the various ministries and commissions, and later in the Ottoman parliament during the reign of Abdülhamid II and the second Ottoman constitutional period. The Malhamés were acting as commercial and political power brokers in cities like Istanbul, Beirut, Sofia and Paris.

    Many Arab Ottomans fought until the very end to introduce a more inclusive notion of citizenship and representative political participation into the empire. This was particularly true for the generation who grew up after the sweeping centralisation reforms in the first half of the 19th century, part of the so-called Tanzimat period of modernisation.

    Some of them held positions that ranged from diplomats negotiating on behalf of the sultan with imperial counterparts in Europe, Russia, and Africa to advisers who planned and executed major imperial projects, such as the implementation of public health measures in Istanbul and the construction of a railway linking the Hijaz region in the Arabian Peninsula with Syria and the capital.

    They imagined an Ottoman citizenship that, at its idealistic best, embraced all ethnic and officially recognised religious groups and that envisioned a form of belonging that, at the risk of sounding anachronistic, can be described as a multicultural notion of imperial belonging. It was an aspirational vision that was never realised, as ethno-nationalism began to influence Ottomans’ self-perception.

    Many Arab Ottomans continued to fight for it to the bitter end – until their world imploded with the demise of the empire during World War II.

    The horrors of war in the Middle East and the colonial occupation that followed were traumatic events that found peoples of the region scrambling to construct Western-sponsored nation-states.

    Nation-building took place as a narrow ethno-religious understanding of nationhood came to dominate the region, sidelining multicultural identities that had been the norm for centuries. Former Ottoman officials had to reinvent themselves as Arab, Syrian, or Lebanese, etc national leaders in the face of French and British colonialism. A prominent example is Haqqi al-Azm, who, among other positions within the Ottoman empire, held the inspector general post at the Ottoman Ministry of Awqaf; in the 1930s, he served as Syria’s prime minister.

    These visions of an ethno-national future necessitated the “forgetting” of the recent Ottoman past. Narratives of imagined primordial nations left no room for the stories of our great-grandparents and their parents, generations of people that lived part of their lives in a different geopolitical reality, and who would never be given the space to acknowledge the loss of the only reality they understood.

    These are stories of common people like Bader Doghan (Doğan) and Abd al-Ghani Uthman (Osman) – my great-grandparents who were born and raised in Beirut but lived an iterant life as artisans between Beirut, Damascus, and Jaffa until the rise of national boundaries put an end to their world experiences.

    These are also stories of better-known families like some of al-Khalidis and al-Abids, notable Arab-Ottoman political families who called Istanbul home, but maintained households and familial connections in Aleppo, Jerusalem, and Damascus. Their stories and the stories of their communities that existed for centuries within an imperial imaginary and a wider regional cosmology were often summed up in a reductionist and dismissive official narrative.

    Their recent history was replaced by a short summary that painted “the Turk” as a foreign Other, the Arab Revolt as a war of liberation, and Western colonial occupation as an inevitable conclusion to the disintegration of “the sick man of Europe”.

    This erasure of history is highly problematic, if not dangerous.

    As a historian of the Ottoman Empire with Palestinian and Lebanese roots, I truly believe it is no less than a crime to keep millions of people disconnected from their own recent past, from the stories of their ancestors, villages, town, and cities in the name of protecting an unstable conglomeration of nation-state formations. The people of the region have been uprooted from their historical reality and left vulnerable to the false narratives of politicians and nationalist historians.

    We need to reclaim Ottoman history as a local history of the inhabitants of the Arabic-speaking-majority lands because if we do not claim and unpack the recent past, it would be impossible to truly understand the problems that we are facing today, in all their temporal and regional dimensions.

    The call for local students of history to research, write, and analyse the recent Ottoman reality is in no way a nostalgic call to return to some imagined days of a glorious or harmonious imperial past. In fact, it is the complete opposite.

    It is a call to uncover and come to terms with the good, the bad, and, indeed, the very ugly imperial past that people in the Arabic-speaking-majority parts of the Middle East were also the makers of. The long and storied histories of the people of cities that flourished during the Ottoman period, like Tripoli, Aleppo, and Basra, have yet to be (re)written.

    It is also important to understand why, more than 100 years since the end of the empire, the erasure of the deeply rooted and intimate connections between the Middle East, North Africa, and Southeast Europe continues, and who benefits from this erasure. We must ask ourselves why is it that researchers from Arabic-speaking-majority countries frequent French and English imperial archives, but do not spend the time or the resources to learn Ottoman-Turkish in order to take advantage of four centuries worth of records readily available at the Ottoman imperial archives in Istanbul or local archives in former provincial capitals?

    Have we bought into the nationalist understanding of history in which Ottoman-Turkish and the Ottoman past belong solely to Turkish national historiography? Are we still the victim of a century’s worth of short-sighted political interests that ebb and flow as regional tensions between Arab countries and Turkey rise and fall?

    Millions of records in Ottoman-Turkish await students from across the Arabic-speaking-majority world to take the plunge into serious research that uses the full range of sources, both on the local and imperial levels.

    Finally, the number of local historians and students with Ottoman history-related disciplinary and linguistic training, in cities such as Doha, Cairo, and Beirut, which have a concentration of excellent institutions of higher education, is alarmingly low; some universities do not even have such cadres.

    It is high time that the institutions of higher learning in the region begin to claim Ottoman history as local history and to support scholars and students who want to uncover and analyse this neglected past.

    For if we do not invest in investigating and writing our own history, then we give up our narratives to various interests and agendas that do not put our people at the centre of their stories.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • Blackwater paved the way for Wagner

    Blackwater paved the way for Wagner

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    In the aftermath of the mutiny by the Wagner private military company (PMC) in Russia, many observers expected that its founder Yevgeny Prigozhin would pay dearly for his actions, perhaps with his life. Instead, the mercenary commander was sent into “exile” in neighbouring Belarus and his fighters continued operations outside Russia and Ukraine. Prigozhin eventually met with Russian President Vladimir Putin personally and then announced that his PMC would focus on its work in Africa.

    It is hardly surprising that Putin has decided to preserve a mercenary force that has proven quite effective in pushing forward his foreign policy adventures in Europe, the Middle East and Africa. He has likely learned a lesson or two from another great power – the United States – whose heavy reliance on PMCs paved the way for the growing privatisation and outsourcing of war across the globe.

    For the US, Russia, and other powers, military contractors are serving as convenient means for proxy warfare which offer plausible deniability and mitigate potential domestic tensions over foreign wars.

    Outsourcing war

    The employment of contractors by the US government is not a recent phenomenon, but over the past two decades it has greatly expanded. While in World War II, 10 percent of American armed forces were privately contracted, during the “war on terror”, launched in 2001, they reached some 50 percent, sometimes more.

    Needing hundreds of thousands of personnel to carry out military operations in Afghanistan, Iraq and elsewhere, but fearing domestic backlash, the US government had to turn to PMCs.

    Since the start of the “war on terror”, the Pentagon has spent $14 trillion, with one-third to one-half of it going to military contractors in combat zones. A lot of this money has gone to contracts related to logistics, construction and weapons supplies, but a sizable chunk has also paid for “hired guns”.

    During the height of the 2008 counterinsurgency effort in Iraq, the number of contractors reached 163,400 (including people in non-combat roles) compared to 146,800 US troops. In 2010, amid the “surge” in Afghanistan, when additional troops were deployed for a renewed offensive against the Taliban, there were 112,100 contractors (including people in non-combat roles) compared to 79,100 troops.

    The pouring of trillions of dollars into PMCs has helped create a vast and powerful military contractor industry which has gone global and transformed how great and smaller powers engage in warfare and other violent foreign policy undertakings.

    The use of contractors conveniently offers plausible deniability and can help governments pacify electorates reluctant to send national troops on risk foreign missions. They also help dodge responsibility for war crimes.

    For example, in 2007, Blackwater killed 14 Iraqi civilians in a melee in Nisour Square in Baghdad. They were not under the US military chain of command, as they had been privately contracted by the US Department of State to guard their staff.

    When the Iraqi government decided to revoke Blackwater’s licence with the government, it found that the company never had one in the first place. Furthermore, the perpetrators of the massacre were not subject to Iraqi law, so they could not be tried on Iraqi soil.

    In 2015, a US court sentenced three former Blackwater employees to 30 years and one to life in prison for the massacre, but just five years later, President Donald Trump pardoned them before he left office.

    The Nisour Square massacre was by far not the only atrocity American mercenaries committed. Ultimately, the violence PMCs were involved in contributed to wide-spread anti-American sentiments in Iraq which undermined US-led counterinsurgency efforts – a major factor that later enabled the rise of ISIL (ISIS).

    Despite these troubles, the US did not do away with PMCs and has continued to rely on them, even after it withdrew from Afghanistan and Iraq. The flourishing PMC industry today which enables the outsourcing of war and violence across the globe is one of the morbid legacies of the US “war on terror”.

    Plausible deniability

    The Kremlin likely watched closely the US government’s use of contractors in Afghanistan and Iraq and understood their utility. According to some observers, Putin likely wanted a Russian version of Blackwater to use in his foreign policy adventures. In following his patron’s orders to create a mercenary group, Prigozhin went as far as emulating the American PMC’s aesthetics. “Wagner mercenaries in Syria and Africa played the part, wearing baseball caps and wraparound sunglasses while toting serious guns,” wrote Lucian Kim, NPR’s former Moscow bureau chief, in Foreign Policy.

    Prigozhin’s contractors was first used in 2014 to support Russian aggression in Eastern Ukraine. They were then deployed in Syria to bolster the regime of President Bashar al-Asad, and to Libya, to fight for renegade general Khalifa Haftar. Throughout these conflicts, the Kremlin kept denying the involvement in and existence of Wagner, as PMCs were illegal according to Russian law.

    The effectiveness of the Russian mercenaries encouraged political and military leaders from across Africa to resort to their services, which strengthened Moscow’s international standing and foreign policy reach.

    When in February 2022, Putin decided to launch a full-scale invasion of Ukraine, he also needed a large number of troops, which the Russian army did not have. Wagner was tasked specifically with providing fighters to throw into the bloodiest battles as cannon fodder. Quickly running out of volunteers, Prigozhin went as far as recruiting convicts, who were offered amnesty in return for military service.

    Thus, Wagner helped the Kremlin minimise the perceived cost of war for the Russian public which was rather uncomfortable with the full-scale invasion. But its forces were not under the direct command of the Russian army, which also turned into a major problem for the Kremlin.

    The mutiny was perhaps an unexpected development for Putin, and it made him look weak, not only to the international community, but also to regime insiders. The fallout of Prigozhin’s rebellion will likely continue to play out in the coming months.

    The Kremlin has removed Wagner’s forces from Russian territory and the battlefield in Ukraine, but it is clearly not ready to do away with its foreign operations. They are way too lucrative economically and useful politically. In exchange for its military services, Wagner and its front companies abroad are involved in oil and gas extraction and gold and diamonds mining, which ensure considerable financial flows to Moscow. This is a role that the traditional Russian military cannot replicate.

    By relying on mercenaries, the US, Russia and other powers have weakened internationally accepted rules of engagement and undermined the international legal regime that seeks to protect civilians in times of war. This has allowed them to get away with violence and atrocities even more easily and misrepresent the true cost of war. Blackwater, Wagner et al ultimately are making the world a that much more dangerous place.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

     

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  • Israel: Impunity comes home to roost

    Israel: Impunity comes home to roost

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    The contention that the roots of Israel’s current political crisis are to be found in its policies towards the Palestinian people is gaining currency. According to this perspective, the authoritarian legislative agenda of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government, and the methods deployed to achieve it, represent the inevitable and inescapable culmination of Israel’s 75 years of oppression and repression of the Palestinian people, and particularly its systematic eradication of the rule of law in the Arab territories it has occupied since 1967.

    Some additionally suggest that Netanyahu and his far-right allies’ primary motivation for promoting the legislative programme is to acquire powers with which to more intensively dispossess the Palestinian people.

    It is an admittedly appealing argument, especially for those making the point that Israel’s claim to be a “Jewish and democratic state” is in fact a confession of ethnocracy and for those seeking to promote the inclusion of Palestinian rights within the agenda of the movement protesting the government’s reform plan.

    The idea that Israel is experiencing a blowback in its domestic politics from its policies towards the Palestinians does have some basis in reality. To state the obvious, a Jewish supremacist regime necessarily empowers Jewish supremacists.

    This, coupled with expansionist policies which require systematic violence and the permanent subjugation and dehumanisation of the Palestinian people, has over time elevated the most extremist and messianic leaders to the pinnacle of power.

    As in similar situations throughout history, such forces tend to view any obstacle to their objectives, including established institutions and dissenting members of their own community, as disloyal elements that need to be neutralised.

    The above notwithstanding, to interpret Israel’s current crisis as an organic product of its policies towards the Palestinians, or as a domestic replication of Israeli methods of rule vis-à-vis the Palestinians, is to fundamentally misunderstand both the nature of this crisis and the Palestinian reality.

    Clearly, mass demonstrations carried out by Israelis at regular intervals throughout the country have not been criminalised, and those participating have, when confronted, encountered police forces using batons and water cannon rather than military units with snipers who shoot to maim and kill. Whatever one may think of Netanyahu and his plans for the Israeli judiciary, his government was constituted on the basis of an election and his agenda is being adopted by a parliament that the overwhelming majority of Israeli citizens embrace as the legitimate if not exclusive representation of their collective political will.

    All this is a rather far cry from the Palestinian reality of being ruled by a foreign military government under a colonial regime imposing extraterritorial legislation by force.

    The assertion that this crisis could have been averted if Israel had adopted a constitution may well be mistaken since constitutions, like judiciaries, can be revised and indeed replaced altogether.

    More clearly nonsensical is the claim that Israel refrained from adopting one because it would otherwise have to declare its borders, and either enshrine equality for all its citizens or formally proclaim ethnocracy.

    Constitutions do not delineate borders. And it is a matter of record that Israel’s 1948 declaration of statehood promised equality to those it was in the process of ethnically cleansing from their homeland, and that in 2018, the Knesset adopted a Basic Law defining Israel as the nation-state of the Jewish people rather than of the citizens of the state.

    Israel’s failure to adopt a constitution primarily reflects its founders’ unwillingness to take a position on the vexed question of religion and state, thus avoiding polarisation between the rabbinical establishment and secular elites. These two sides have clashed over the definition of Jewishness, but have displayed remarkable consensus on denying Palestinians their rights.

    Similarly, the current crisis is first and foremost an internal dispute within Israel’s Jewish population and elites about the governance of their ethnocracy and the role of its institutions.

    If advocates of the government’s agenda state that it will better enable them to dispossess the Palestinians and annex their lands, which indeed it will, this reflects marketing more than motivation. In Israel, apartheid sells better than authoritarianism, and “Nakba Now!” rates better than letting crooked politicians off the hook. The government would hardly garner the same level of support for its judicial agenda if it were to proclaim a key objective is to enable senior politicians like Netanyahu and Aryeh Deri to dodge accountability for corruption indictments.

    The broad Israeli consensus on the dispossession of the Palestinians has also been apparent in the fact that most protest organisers have actively fought to exclude the rights of Palestinians – including of those who are Israeli citizens – from their movement.

    Meanwhile, Western governments also seem more incensed by the institutional degradation of Israel’s ethnocracy than its existence or persistence. Criticisms, condemnations, and boycotts of Israel, its government, military, and economy, considered taboo if undertaken in response to its eradication of Palestinian rights and lives, are proudly announced and even encouraged in defence of a judiciary that is institutionally guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity.

    The priority of the West – and its sole interest in the matter – is the stability of its strategic ally. That’s how the “rules-based international order” works – rules and rights only enter the equation if violated by rivals and adversaries.

    Yet this crisis is, in significant part, of the West’s own making. For decades, and increasingly in recent years, it has ensured total impunity for Israeli leaders. It is only natural that these leaders conduct themselves like spoiled toddlers, grabbing and smashing anything and everything within reach, and directing tantrums at their enablers in Washington and Brussels at the slightest hint of reservation about their course of action.

    They have, through endless repetition, been desensitised by their Western sponsors to consideration of consequence. It no longer exists in their calculations, and they have as a result become incapable of inhibition.

    It might additionally be observed that it is a little rich for the West to spend decades celebrating Israel as a Jewish and democratic state, losing no opportunity to strengthen it with acts of commission and omission, and then have a meltdown about the entirely predictable consequences of doing so – primarily because Israeli authoritarianism complicates their Middle Eastern policies in ways that support for apartheid never could.

    It is in this sense that impunity has come home to roost. As always, the price will be paid within the region, mainly by Palestinians and, to lesser extent, by Israelis as well.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • Coup, cyclone and a new bond between Myanmar’s Rohingya and Rakhine

    Coup, cyclone and a new bond between Myanmar’s Rohingya and Rakhine

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    I was born in 1986 in a village in Myanmar’s western Rakhine State marked by green farms and cows ploughing the fields.

    It was before the military began imposing apartheid-like conditions on the state’s minority Rohingya population.

    As a child, I recall my Rakhine peers bullying our Rohingya classmates, but I lacked the political awareness to understand why. And for the most part, the Rohingya and the Rakhine majority to which I belong could still live side by side.

    I was raised by a single mother who struggled to support me with her wages as a farm labourer and who sent me to Myanmar’s largest city, Yangon, to live with my uncle when I was 12 years old. At first, I felt lost among the cars, tall buildings and unfamiliar food, but I soon found my place when I joined a youth movement associated with the Aung San Suu Kyi-led National League for Democracy.

    Widely popular at the time, the party was also outlawed by the military regime and, in 2001, when I was 15, I was arrested on charges of incitement. I served five years in the country’s notorious Insein Prison before I was released in a prisoner amnesty.

    Fearing rearrest, I fled to Chiang Mai, Thailand, where I busied myself with work and studies. I also made friends from different countries, from whom I learned about the human rights violations that the Rohingya had faced under successive military regimes in Myanmar.

    I also learned about some of the reasons the Rakhine and the Rohingya had grown apart, including unfounded military propaganda portraying the Rohingya as “illegal immigrants” from Bangladesh who threatened to overtake the country’s majority Buddhist population and establish a Muslim state.

    In 2012, I returned to Myanmar to visit friends and relatives in the Rakhine state capital of Sittwe. The military had begun a transition toward semi-civilian rule, but while Western governments celebrated a country on the verge of positive change, my state was on the brink of a crisis.

    In early June, weeks after I arrived, riots erupted across the state’s central and northern townships, where most of the Rohingya in Myanmar are concentrated. Rakhine and Rohingya mobs burned each other’s homes and religious buildings and attacked each other’s communities with rudimentary weapons, while smaller minorities were caught in the crossfire.

    The riots quietened down a week later but resumed in October; by the time they ceased in November, thousands of buildings lay in ruins, and the death toll stood at more than 80. Both the Rakhine and the Rohingya lost their homes, belongings and loved ones, but the Rohingya also lost their freedom of movement, and in Sittwe, more than 100,000 were forced into camps and a ghetto where they remain to this day. A deep divide had taken hold, and the two communities were not even talking to each other.

    I was shocked and distressed, as well as motivated to do something about it. So I decided to dedicate myself to promoting trust, understanding and cohesion in my society and established my own organisation in Sittwe less than a year later.

    At the time, my goal seemed about as impossible as demolishing a mountain with the seed of a palm fruit, to use a Burmese saying. People avoided me in the local tea shops, and even my own friends stopped talking to me. My work was also dangerous. A prominent Rakhine politician sent me death threats and Rakhine nationalist groups threatened my teammates as well.

    But giving up was never an option. Instead, we started at a basic level – building trust and understanding among ourselves and encouraging our communities to see diversity as a strength. We also brought together local youth through sports, music, art, storytelling and civic education, among other tools.

    Just as we were making progress, however, another crisis hit in 2016 when the military began its “clearance operations” against the Rohingya in Rakhine’s northern townships. By the end of 2017, the military had killed more than 6,700 people and driven 720,000 to flee to Bangladesh. Even talking about social harmony and peace was risky. The military also cut off most travel to northern Rakhine, and we had to relocate some of our work.

    My state again erupted in violence in 2019, this time between the Myanmar military and the autonomy-seeking Arakan Army, which draws most of its support from ethnic Rakhine. The military’s retaliatory attacks brought immense suffering on Rakhine people but also marked a turning point between Rakhine and Rohingya communities, as they began to come together over shared experiences of oppression.

    Then the military seized power in a February 2021 coup. Ever since, civil society organisations, including my own have faced a dramatically tighter civic space in which to operate. Fearing arrest or worse, we have had to self-censor and avoid gathering in large groups.

    At the same time, the military’s attacks against people of all ethnic and religious backgrounds have sparked a countrywide awakening to Rohingyas’ plight and an unprecedented coming together in solidarity. Although Rakhine has been spared much of the post-coup turmoil, people have nonetheless suffered from the country’s economic crisis as well as around two months of renewed clashes between the military and Arakan Army.

    We’re still a long way away from achieving a truly just, equitable and harmonious society in Rakhine State. Discriminatory policies against the Rohingya remain in place, including restrictions on their movement and access to services.

    At the same time, I have seen increasing signs that diverse ethnic communities want to live side by side in peace. Informal trade has gradually resumed between the Rakhine and Rohingya communities, while Rakhines have increasingly hired Rohingyas for manual labour, and some Rohingyas have opened street stalls in Sittwe. Rohingyas are also now informally venturing to the popular Sittwe beach and reconnecting over food and juice with Rakhine friends they hadn’t seen in more than a decade.

    Rohingyas working for humanitarian organisations in Sittwe’s camps can visit their offices in town to meet with colleagues, and Rohingya youth can come into town for initiatives offered by civil society organisations, including my own. Although Rohingyas still need military permission to visit public hospitals, they can now informally access private clinics, and in May of 2022, Rohingya students enrolled in Sittwe University for the first time since 2012.

    This May, when Cyclone Mocha hit the Rakhine coast, it brought another test to the state’s diverse people.

    The real death toll remains unknown due to the limited civic space and access to information in Myanmar, but available estimates indicate that more than 150 people died in the storm, mostly Rohingyas. Communities of all backgrounds also lost homes, farmland and livestock.

    In the face of this disaster, even more signs emerged that the Rohingya and Rakhine communities are reestablishing the tattered threads of mutual reliance that had once made up the state’s social fabric.

    Although more than two dozen United Nations agencies and international nongovernmental organisations have a presence in Rakhine, they have been unable to respond directly to the cyclone’s devastation because the military has denied humanitarian access to affected areas.

    Instead, Rakhines and Rohingyas joined in clearing roads, while many Rakhines hired Rohingyas to help them repair their homes. Rakhine student groups and civil society organisations provided cyclone relief to all ethnic communities. At my own office, my Rakhine, Rohingya and other colleagues came together to clear the debris and fix the damage.

    Now, as the longer-term efforts to address lost livelihoods and damaged infrastructure set in, all ethnic communities must proactively work hand in hand to support the most vulnerable and affected – both to strengthen the response and to encourage the fragile progress towards social cohesion. Meanwhile, the international organisations providing funding and technical support must be mindful of this delicate context.

    By coming together in this way, I still believe we can demolish a mountain with the seeds of a palm fruit.

    This article was written together with Emily Fishbein, a freelance journalist focusing on Myanmar.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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  • Are you ready for a digital death?

    Are you ready for a digital death?

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    In mid-June, after I had been in Italy for two weeks, I got around to reading the June 4 edition of the Italian newspaper La Repubblica, which I had bought – on June 4, of course – in accordance with my never-fulfilled vision of being one of those people who buys and reads a physical newspaper every day.

    Prominently featured was coverage of the murder of 29-year-old Giulia Tramontano, who had been stabbed to death outside Milan in May by her boyfriend Alessandro Impagnatiello. She was seven months pregnant.

    Page 12 of La Repubblica was devoted to the WhatsApp correspondence between Tramontano and Impagnatiello, helpfully colour-coded and divided into categories like “the quarrel about the lipstick”; “the separation announcement”; “the future of the baby”; and “the messages after he killed Giulia”.

    To be sure, humans have always exhibited a certain fascination with murder. But the digital era has created novel opportunities for morbid voyeurism – while also raising obvious issues of privacy.

    I had already heard all about the Tramontano case since arriving back to Puglia, the southern Italian region where, prior to the pandemic, I used to spend a portion of every summer with the mother of an Italian friend in her humble seaside abode.

    My Puglian acquaintances, almost exclusively persons over the age of 70, had quickly filled me in on the details of the murder in Milan – or their own version of the details, rather. These often veered significantly from the reported facts but commanded such impassioned vehemence as to suggest intimate knowledge of all aspects of the crime in addition to the psychologies of both victim and perpetrator.

    It was the same scene I had witnessed over so many summers of being subjected to nightly Italian homicide TV shows, which had also occasioned much shouting and exaggerated Italo-gesticulation in the direction of the television set and had often caused me to wonder what came first: Italian homicide TV shows or the Italian homicide fetish.

    This year, a television glitch at my friend’s mother’s house meant that the homicide shows had been reduced to intermittent bursts of sound and light, but advances in mobile phone competence among the local population meant that everyone could still keep up-to-date on Italy’s killings of interest.

    Naturally, these killings did not comprise the refugees who regularly drown off the Italian coast as a result of the state’s anti-migrant militance. After all, the comprehensive dehumanisation of refugees largely precludes the potential for sensationalising their demise – whether or not they send any pre-death WhatsApp messages that could be made available for public scrutiny.

    Deaths of interest did include the 26-year-old killed by a bear in April in the northern province of Trentino, and my companions in Puglia waved their mobile phones in my face such that I might view pre-death photos of the victim and his girlfriend with superimposed bear maw looming in the background.

    Then there was the 33-year-old nearly killed by a bear in Abruzzo National Park in December, whose frantic near-pre-death audio message to his wife has been preserved online courtesy of Corriere della Sera, another main Italian newspaper.

    Of course, this sort of digital voyeurism is hardly Italian-specific. I myself am guilty of having perused the Tramontano-Impagnatiello transcripts, despite the fact that I certainly would not want my own WhatsApp communications on posthumous display – if only to avoid being immortalised as frivolous and neurotic. (I can at least take comfort that my notebooks of handwritten musings are almost entirely illegible, often even to me.)

    Indeed, gone are the days when folks just had to concern themselves with the fate of their physical possessions when they died; now, there’s the digital footprint to worry about, to boot. As if all that were not tiresome enough, the field of “digital inheritance” has arisen to regulate the passing down of everything from passwords to crypto assets.

    Meanwhile, a glance at recent international headlines confirms that the morbid trampling of privacy remains highly marketable across the board. Take this example from the UK media: “Woman said, ‘next time you’ll kill me,’ in secret clip before partner stabbed her to death.” Or this one from India: “Tunisha Sharma ended her life within 15 minutes of chat with Sheezan Khan; here are shocking details of their WhatsApp messages.”

    Perhaps more broadly disturbing, though, is the trivialisation of death that has inevitably occurred with social media’s conversion into a primary forum for death announcements and condolences. A twist on that old phrase comes to mind: “If you can’t say anything without emojis, don’t say anything at all.”

    One recalls the days when sympathy was not reduced to a series of yellow crying faces – when people had more time to be human and condolences were not something to be fired off before scrolling on to the next Facebook post.

    I personally will never forget an occasion some years ago when, in response to a Facebook friend’s post about a death in the family, another Facebook friend – a filmmaker for whom I normally have the utmost esteem – commented: “sorry for ur loss.” Modern communications have so warped our sense of propriety, it seems, that the commenter failed to consider the inherent disrespect, in such circumstances, of only typing half of an already very short word.

    But as life itself has become irreparably digitised, it’s probably only natural that death has, too.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

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