#3626 Re: Izrael je opet pocinio zlocin!!!
Posted: 12/04/2009 17:15
posto mnogi od komentatora nisu nikad bili u izraelu ili palestini, cisto da postavim jednu vijest da vidite da u izraelu ima druga svijest od cisto askenazi-kolonijalno-evropske/rasisticke po kojoj su svi arapi vrijedni ubijanja, a askenazi jevreji su kao u "civilizacijskoj misiji"
predominantna pseudo-fasisticka ideologija onih koji sada vladaju izraelom (a inace su manjina u samom izraelu) se odnosi prema sefardima (orijentalnim jevrejima, "mitzrahim" u danasnjoj izraelskoj terminologiji) kao prema bicima nize vrste i kao sto clanak govori cini sve da zaustavi proces obnove i dalje izgradnje identiteta arapskih jevreja ili ako hocete jevreja koji su na svoj nacin dio mediteranske kulture, sto je opet jedina mogucnost za izrael da prezivi dugorocno...BEIRUT: Generally, symposia are viewed as dry, intellectual affairs held in antiseptic conference halls. The people up front talk. Some folks in the audience talk back. Some nod off. Others wonder who's catering lunch. So it's refreshing to find a gathering that engages the brain creatively. "Anywhere But Now," a three-day event organized by the Heinrich Boell Foundation in Beirut, is a case in point. The symposium saw an impressive retinue of international scholars discuss the "landscapes of belonging" created by processes of state-building in Iraq, Palestine, Syria and Lebanon as well as Turkey and Bosnia.
These talks were interspersed among film screenings, curated by Munira Khayat and Samar Kanafani in co-operation with ArteEast's Rasha Salti. With a selection ranging from video art like Ayreen Anastas' "Pasolini Pa* Palestine" to features like "Journey to the Sun," Yesim Ustaoglu's fiction about the Kurdish experience in Turkey, these works are artistic reflections upon the several crises of identity among refugee communities growing from states' efforts to dominate the territories they inherited from older regimes.
The opening film in the cycle was the 2002 classic "Forget Baghdad," a documentary conversation among six Iraqi refugees directed by the one-named Switzerland-based filmmaker Samir.
"I wanted to know what it was like to leave your country," Samir remarks early in the film, "to forget your culture, and your language and become the enemy of your own past."
Samir, who contributes autobiographical details to his film, is a secular Iraqi of mixed Muslim heritage. His five informants are all secular-leftist writers of Iraqi origin whose families happen to be Jewish. All five are anti-Zionist, strident critics of Israeli state policies vis-ˆ-vis the Mizrahim ("Orientals" as Arab Jews call themselves) and defenders of Palestinian rights.
Shimon Ballas, Moussa Houry, Sami Michael and Samir Naqqash are all veterans of the Iraqi Communist Party. The intellectual touchstone of the discussion, though a generation younger, is the iconic New York-based cultural critic Ella Shohat. whose family had already left Iraq by the time she was born.
In "Forget Baghdad," these five intellectuals discuss how they were steeped in Arabic culture and the disinheritance of emigration. Perhaps inspired by Shohat's critical treatment of how Mizrahim and Palestinians are represented in Israeli film, Samir juxtaposes these testimonials with archived still and film footage of representations of Iraq and Palestine. The result is as aesthetically pleasing as it is intellectually engaging.
As the four men point out, the reasons for the mass emigration of Iraqi Jews to Israel are muddy. The community in Baghdad was badly shaken by the farhoud (arbitrary killings of Jews) conducted during the brief anti-British regime of Rashid Ali al-Gaylani (1940-1941). Later legislation passed by Britain's perennial Iraqi Prime Minister Nuri al-Said gave the country's Jews the right to renounce their citizenship and move to the then-new state of Israel. Very few took up the opportunity.
The dam to emigration broke when Iraqi Jews fell victim to a bloody and anonymous bombing campaign.
Samir cautiously points out that Iraqi police never found the bombings' perpetrators, but most of the veterans say everyone knew that Israeli intelligence was responsible.
The mass emigration of Iraq's Jews was, in their view, an integral part of Zionist state-building in a land where European survivors of the Nazi Holocaust were severely outnumbered by Palestine's Muslim and Christian Arabs.
Though technical difficulties conspired against it, a video link to New York was secured some time after the screening by Heinrich Boell's Layla al-Zubaidi. Rasha Salti quizzed Shohat on her experience participating in "Forget Baghdad," then moderated a question-and-answer session between the writer, who has yet to visit Beirut, and a largely adoring audience.
Shohat's work belongs, partially at least, to the line of post-colonial critique associated with Edward Said. In her early book, "Israeli Cinema: East/West and the Politics of Representation," she argues that Zionism actually produced the idea of the "European Jew" in the image of a stereotypical notion "the West." "The Palestinian" became something negative, while Israel was represented as saving the Mizrahim from their Muslim oppressors.
"This has now become the dominant narrative," she said. "It's not [that nationalism is racism] per se, but racism in conjunction with colonial settler ideologies and in conjunction with Orientalist discourse."
Shohat is characteristically cautious when reminiscing about her experience touring with "Forget Baghdad." "I don't want to generalize about the Arab reactions to the film," she says, "but I can speak to the reaction of Iraqis.
"Iraqis of diverse background have found the film very moving ... precisely because of the various wars fought on and in Iraq, the displacement, dislocation and dispossession, has been the story of all Iraqis and not just Iraqi Jews ... Because Samir has been so careful that while he focuses on the story of Iraqi Jews, he places their story within the question of Palestine."
Though her work springs from her personal experience of cultural disenfranchisement, Shohat's analysis of dislocation remains non-partisan.
"It is one thing to discuss bodies being dislocated, people losing their homes, houses," Shohat says. "It's another to discuss the way Arab Jews have been used to suppress the legitimacy of Palestinian rights and the right of return, their ongoing dislocation.
"The question of Arab Jews and Palestinians is part of a larger story of colonial partitions. If you look at the partitions of India and Pakistan, it has really had profoundly tragic consequences for diverse populations in the region. The Palestinian people weren't asked if they wanted to leave Palestine. Neither were Arab Jews asked if they wanted to leave their homes ...
"I don't want to compare the two cases. They are not analogous by any means. Quite the contrary, this is a more complex story of departures from the Arab world. But we can certainly say that the tensions, the anxiety, the fear, this equation of 'Jew' equals 'Zionist' has made our place in the Arab world an anxious one."
In an evening of poignant questions, one of the more affecting for Shohat was, "What's left?" The rise of Israel's rightist Likud party came on the shoulders of non-European Jews and in the last decade the religious Shaas Party has arisen to speak to many Mizrahim's conservative cultural mores. It's not unreasonable to wonder what has become of the dissident, leftist critique of Zionism that Ballas, Houry, Michael and Naqqash bore with them from Iraq, and which Shohat herself inherited and developed in her work.
She said it should be no surprise that Mizrahi assimilation has followed the course it has. "After 1967," she began, "Palestinians [within the state of Israel] and Arab Jews - especially the younger generation - were completely disconnected from the Arab world.
"Israel is a highly centralized state, where education is completely controlled by the state. Until 1991 or '92 there was only one state-owned TV channel. It had Arabic programming and Hebrew programming - the same thing with radio. But even if it spoke Arabic it spoke Arabic according to one kind of political-national perspective and Orientalist perspective.
"That means that Palestinian children - if their teachers didn't make extra effort, and certainly Arab Jews who were raised in Hebrew - didn't read anything about the Arab world. Basically, it was European history that was told. If the history of the Middle East was told, a few pages, it was to suggest either Muslim-Arab persecution of the Jews or that the Arab world has been underdeveloped, primitive, backward.
"To the extent that some Palestinians and Arab Jews growing up in Israel have fallen into that narrative, you can understand how children raised that way would buy into it. It takes an incredible amount of resistance to shape new narratives."
Ignorance of the Arab world is only part of the Mizrahim's story, however. Overlaying this innocence has been fashion.
"The Oslo Accords allowed use of the name 'Palestine' more legitimate," she says. "At least as far as discourse goes, rather than practice, it opened up the debate. It also opened up debate on Arab Jews. Whereas people like me and our work had always been denounced. In the late-'90s the idea of Arab Jews became fashionable among younger intellectuals and activists.
"Now people who never lived in the Arab world are calling themselves 'Arab Jews,' people born in the '80s. Culturally it's now something that's engaged in - fusion music, new films. The question of 'Arab Jew' has become so fashionable that it's been emptied of its critical meaning.
"It's got to the point now where it's a nostalgic celebration of the Mizrahim's special identity, and it's sometimes appropriated for the dominant narrative. 'We're Arab Jews but we don't talk about the question of Palestine.' You can hear this a lot. 'I just like listening to Arabic music.'
"'What's left?' Well, it's there. But I won't tell you it's a dominant perspective. This is part of an ongoing dynamic process."