Journalism, separation, and independence: newspaper coverage of the end of the British Mandate for Palestine, 1948 — Part II

This is the second part of my article about British and U.S. newpaper reporting of the end of the British Mandate for Palestine. You can read Part I here, and the whole article on the website of Journalism, where it was first published  

IN HIS DIARY ENTRY of 5th April 1948, just weeks before the Mandate was to come to an end, Gurney recorded the fact that The Times was to run a piece on a new book, published by the British Government’s Stationery Office. The book included ‘admirable pictures and photographs’ of ‘the Holy City under British care.’ (Golani, 2009: 87). That ‘care’ may have been about to stop. The way in which it was to be portrayed retained great importance. Indeed, the ‘administrative, economic, even military’ aspects of the British Mandate were complemented by what were probably then cutting-edge public relations techniques. On Gurney’s staff, as Public Information Officer, was Richard ‘Dick’ Stubbs ‘previously advertising manager for Bob Martin’s condition powder’ (Golani, 2009: 200) – a preparation then, as now, designed to keep pet dogs in top shape. Even with Stubbs’ assistance, Gurney admitted, ‘It’s not easy to follow what’s going on.’ (Golani, 2009: 70) This led him to compare his own access to information with the task facing the press, in terms that suggest a degree of admiration, ‘even when you have access to all the information there is, but these fellows have to go out and get it for themselves.’ (Golani, 2009: 70). This is not within this article’s main scope, but his use of the word ‘fellows’ is interesting for what it says about gender attitudes in that milieu at that time – especially given that two of the most prominent correspondents, Board and Hollingworth, were women. Further indication of what must have been a predominantly a man’s world is found in the fact that the title of Board’s own 1937 memoir was Newsgirl in Palestine. Her choice, or that of her publisher?

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A member of the Parachute Regiment stands guard over a group of Jewish civilians who wait in line to be interrogated by British army officers and members of the Palestine Police during a sweep in Tel Aviv for members of Jewish terrorist organisations such as the Irgun. © IWM (E 31978)

 

If one can detect among the British political elite in Palestine an understanding of the importance of press coverage, and even a degree of respect, then it is not always returned. Those who had ‘to go out and get it for themselves’ could be scathing of those who did not. At one point, Gurney wrote that Duffield had complained that the assistance offered by Stubbs’ Public Information Office had made some reporters’ lives too easy (Golani, 2009: 70). Hollingworth and her colleagues – although perhaps not those whom Duffield all but accused of laziness – did want to try to find out what is going on. Throughout her career, starting with her famously (and correctly) reporting in August 1939 – when she was herself ‘only three days into [her] first journalism job’ (Garrett, 2015: 67) – German armoured divisions on the Polish border, and poised to invade, Hollingworth was one to get the story herself. In Palestine, it was the sheer difficulty of doing so which frustrated her. In her article published in The Observer on 11th April 1948, she explained why. The opening of her piece included a line, ‘It is the first time in history that shells have landed in the Holy City,’ designed, as the best reportage should be, to gain, and retain, the audience’s attention. As the piece continued, she reflected on the difficulty of establishing what was happening. Having apparently reached a dead end in her quest for ‘hard’ facts, Hollingworth turned her ire on those who, she obviously felt, should have been providing more reliable information.

The sound of gunfire was audible all over the centre of Jerusalem, and shells fell within two miles of the Dome of the Rock Mosque and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Before the shelling began, the only ‘hard’ facts of a situation which daily becomes more obscure and confused were that the Arabs this morning retook Mount Castel and that there was heavy fighting along the western approaches to Jerusalem – the only possible entry into the city for Jewish traffic.

There is no longer the slightest reliance to be placed in Jewish reports. Their Press is under strict censorship, imposed and enforced by the Jewish Agency, and its misrepresentations and distortions are reaching astonishing heights. There is indeed an atmosphere of quite unbelievable reality in the Jewish approach to the situation, which is based upon the determination to maintain at all costs the illusion that it is impossible for Jews to lose in any encounter with Arabs.

On the Arab side the Press indulges in childish boasting and highly-coloured accounts of Arab victories while what must be termed “official Arab sources” simply do not know what is happening, as their means of communication and collection and collation of data are hopelessly inadequate.

Unfortunately, the British authorities police and military, who might be expected to provide at least a check upon the prevailing exaggerations, appear usually to be in the position of having to obtain their information from the Press. They never know anything more.

Hollingworth’s piece has been quoted some length here because it illustrates at least two important points about the significance of the newspaper coverage of the end of the British Mandate for Palestine. This, surely, was journalistic independence in text form. Hollingworth did not feel she owed anything to any of her potential sources. On the contrary, she felt that they were failing her, and, by extension, her readers. With the exception of their access to British officials (and Gurney’s reflection that he, unlike the journalists, had ‘access to all the information there is’ suggests that was probably of limited scope and value) the correspondents were at a distance from the people whose lives and conflicts they were covering. Perhaps one can therefore also read a degree of frustration into Hollingworth’s criticism of British officials who ‘appear usually to be in the position of having to obtain their information from the Press’. Just as they seem to be at a distance from what is going on, so are the correspondents. In the fifty or so news reports which formed the core of the research for this article, one looks in vain for any reflection of Arab or Jewish opinion other than that offered by official sources. Whatever one might think of later 20th century, and 21st century, reporting of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, as it is now more readily known (and some scholars, such as Philo and Berry (2004, 2011) have been deeply critical of it), this seems striking. The reporting at this time seems removed from the people, Jewish and Arab, of Palestine. The human interest stories of the café owner, school teacher, farmer, or casual labourer, which might today be expected to provide context, or even a superficial indication of public opinion, are absent. Where are the casual contacts – the taxi drivers, the shopkeepers, with whom western correspondents might now chat? Where are the academics, the religious leaders, from whom they might seek more nuanced understanding of, or elite opinion from within, the communities which they were covering?

Their absence might tend to support an interpretation suggesting that western reporters had, at least in part, an Orientalist approach to the story, in the sense employed by Said.  ‘Orientals were rarely seen or looked at; they were seen through, analyzed (sic) not as citizens, or even people, but as problems to be solved or – as the colonial powers openly coveted their territory – taken over.’ (1995: 207. In considering whether this was the case, it proved instructive to look at some of the work which Hollingworth in particular published on other assignments. Hollingworth’s reporting was selected because of the range of other stories which she covered during the period shortly before and after the end of the British Mandate for Palestine. Duffield, Broad, and others, such as O’Dowd Gallagher of the Daily Mail, who were also reporting from Palestine in this era, did not travel as extensively as she. This is understandable. Given the huge amount of editorial appetite for coverage of Palestine, they had little incentive to do so. Hollingworth, on the other hand, seems to have been more restless. Even a brief examination of her work for The Observer in 1948 and 1949 uncovers datelines in Greece, Egypt, and Yugoslavia. Her work from these locations displays, in addition to her versatility as a correspondent, a frequent reliance on elite sources. There is one important distinction. The sources to which Hollingworth had access in other locations seemed very well informed – at least, that is the impression given from the detail in which she is able to report either the purge of the Secret Police in Yugoslavia (Hollingworth, 1948c) or the diet of the dying Greek Prime Minister (Hollingworth, 1948d). The lack of access to detailed, reliable, information she experienced in Palestine explains the frustration she expressed in the article cited above – and also why her reporting, and that of her fellow correspondents, sometimes feels removed from the action.

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A view of part of the Old City of Jerusalem from the nearby hills

Security, an issue which will be discussed in more detail below, may have been another factor in this sense of separation. A week after the British authorities quit Mandate Palestine, Richard Wyndham, a reporter for Kemsley newspapers, was killed in the Sheikh Jarrah district, on the approaches to the Old City of Jerusalem (Daily Express News Service, 1948). We should not forget that Board, Duffield, and Hollingworth had all personally been uncomfortably close to the bombing of the King David Hotel. Newspaper reports and newsreels which cover the immediate aftermath of the attack show that plenty of other correspondents witnessed the dead being taken from under the rubble. Hollis (2016: 10) has described the end of the Mandate as a time when the British political elite in Palestine were antagonistic to, and felt antagonized by, the peoples whom they were supposed to govern. ‘Both communities were criticised in language that patronised the Arabs and demonised the Jews, as these British servants of the empire began to realise that they themselves were increasingly the objects of hostility from both quarters.’ The reporting reflects a similar detachment, and, certainly in the case of Hollingworth, rigorously expressed disdain. So while Orientalist (in the sense employed by Said) perspectives formed part of the relationship between western reporters and the peoples whose conflict they were covering, there were additional factors: security, access, and probably language, too. Sherman’s point, cited above, about the lack of Hebrew skills among British officials presumably applied equally to western correspondents.

 

The second point about Hollingworth’s 11th April, 1948 article worthy of more detailed discussion here is the attempts which the belligerents make to mislead correspondents. Using phrases such as ‘misrepresentations and distortions’ and ‘childish boasting and highly-coloured accounts’ (Hollingworth 1948a), Hollingworth, frustrated as she was by the dearth of ‘“hard” facts’ at least made it clear to her readers that she was not taken in by the information she had been fed. Although attempts to influence coverage, especially coverage of armed conflict, are as old as war reporting itself, these attempts to mislead are especially significant given what has followed. There can be few languages which have a single word for ‘public diplomacy’ in the sense of trying to influence public opinion. Hebrew is an exception. The word hasbara defies straightforward translation, but definitely includes this concept. ‘There is no English word. It’s either public diplomacy or information, some would say indoctrination,’ is the explanation offered by Nitzan Chen, current Head of the Israeli Government Press Office (cited in Rodgers, 2015: 119). Judging from Hollingworth’s experience, this is where that ‘indoctrination’, or attempt at the same, begins to establish itself: ready to grow in scope and sophistication as the State of Israel itself develops, right up to the age of social media (see, for example, Kuntsman and Stein, 2015). Hollingworth’s experience has its counterparts in every era of the coverage of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. In 1967, for example, David Hirst, the veteran Middle East correspondent who was then a young stringer based in Beirut, wrote, ‘There are two wars – the real war and propaganda war.’ (Hirst, 1967). His article went on to describe ‘fierce rhetoric pouring in’ from Arab radio stations, and ‘Arabic counterblast from Israel’ (Hirst, 1967) – the Jewish State, then not even two decades old, already adept and using the language of its foes to fight the media battle. If this process of Arab-Israeli propaganda war did not exactly begin in 1948, Hollingworth’s experience shows that it was at a highly significant point during the last days of the British Mandate – already established as one of the enduring elements of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the journalist which chronicles it.

(to be continued)

I will publish the full references with a future extract. In the meantime, please feel free to comment here; email me at reportingconflict.com; Tweet @jmacrodgers. If you have read Headlines from the Holy Land, thank you — and please do consider writing a review on Amazon.

 

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Latest on ‘Headlines from the Holy Land’

9781137395122My next book, Headlines from the Holy Land: Reporting the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, will be published in September. My thanks goes to those journalists and academics who have read the manuscript. You can read their endorsements here, on the publisher’s website.

Please either post a comment on this site, or email me at reportingconflict@hotmail.com, if you have any questions about the book.

I will be posting more details about it between now and publication.

5 key points on reporting Gaza

You have to go back a long way to understand today: the Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery, Deir-el-Balah, Gaza, 2004 ©James Rodgers

You have to go back a long way to understand today: the Commonwealth War Graves Cemetery, Deir-el-Balah, Gaza, 2004 ©James Rodgers

While the ceasefire in Gaza holds, it seems a reasonable time to think about the way the conflict there has been reported. Why focus on the journalism? Because without it, most people would have less understanding of what has been happening there than perhaps they do. I will be writing about the coverage of this latest Israeli military operation in detail in my next book, Headlines from the Holy Land, which is due to be published next year. In the meantime, here are five broad conclusions which can be drawn so far:

1. IT’S DANGEROUS. The number of Palestinian civlian casualties, many of whom could not be considered by any definition combatants, shows that no one is safe. This may be obvious, but I mention it because it’s always useful for interested audiences to consider the circumstances in which reporters are working. At least eight Palestinian journalists have been reported killed during this operation. Other journalists have been killed before. The British cameraman James Miller was shot dead by the Israeli Army in Southern Gaza in 2003. The dangers have consequences for coverage. How can you get Hamas’ side of the story when their leaders are in hiding? Two of the Hamas leaders I used to interview when I was in Gaza from 2002-2004 were subsequently killed by the Israeli military.

2. SOCIAL MEDIA continue to challenge and to complement conventional news reporting. In a region, such as Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories, where you have such widespread internet access and usage, this will continue to be the case. Social media, though, in this case was not always the leveller it is claimed to be. Some of the people I follow on Twitter from Gaza were frustrated by absent electricity.

3. VERBAL ABUSE IS PART OF THE REPORTER’S LOT The Israelis and Palestinians will inevitably use the local and international news media as a parallel, verbal and pictorial, battleground. Shortly after they begin to do so, there follows criticism of the way that journalists are reporting the conflict. It almost seems that media editors simply wait 24 hours (or perhaps 12, or less, in the social media era) then commission someone to write about where their colleagues in international news are getting it wrong. The resulting concerns are amplified and added to by those of experts real, imagined, and self-appointed. Some of these, of course, have rarely, if ever, been to the region at all — and almost certainly not to Gaza.

4. CONTEXT IS KING You have to go back a long way to understand today in the Middle East. It is no coincidence of history that there are First World War British soldiers’ graves in Gaza. Their presence was part of what made the region the way it is today. If you do not understand that as a reporter, you can be sure your contributors will. Paul Mason of Channel 4 News in the UK was just the latest British journalist to experience this. Shortly after arriving in Gaza in 2002, I was reprimanded by an elderly refugee for coming from the country responsible for the Balfour declaration. Perhaps to the BBC’s credit, the declaration and its significance had been one of the questions at the interview for the post of Gaza correspondent.

5. YOU WILL NEVER GET IT EXACTLY RIGHT However hard a reporter tries when covering this story, journalism has its limits. Its critics see conspiracy or bias where sometimes the tool is simply not adequate to the task. News journalism relates what happened today. In the Middle East, that alone is never enough to explain what is going on. Nevertheless, there are spectacular errors. ABC News’ use of destitute Gazans to illustrate the consequences of rocket fire on Israel was perhaps the worst example. Breathtaking incompetence, or woeful ignorance?

Against this, though, there have been countless examples of strong, fact-led, eyewitness reporting from Gaza. Without this, we would have little idea what was going on. No western politician sets foot there these days. The only outsiders who have seen it are medical staff; aid worker; — and journalists.

Gaza: wars of weapons, and wars of words

Large-scale bloodshed in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict provokes a series of responses. Often, they seem almost to follow a pattern — especially when, as at present, there is no prospect even of talks about talks to end the conflict. In the absence of any meaningful political process, the two sides fight; Israel’s far superior firepower means more Palestinians than Israelis are killed; eventually, there will be a ceasefire.

Alongside the bombs and bullets, the warring parties trade arguments: both for the benefit of their own people, and international consumption. The news media report what’s happening. Lobby groups and columnists criticize the media coverage. Journalists writing about the conflict can expect to receive abusive email (something of which I was reminded yesterday).

Yet there is no doubt that in all contemporary wars belligerents place massive emphasis on the importance of their media campaigns. As a Georgian official I spoke to after his country’s 2008 war with Russia told me, ‘In this century, and in a conflict where you have a huge power against a small state, I think that’s almost as important as the media battle.’ (From Reporting Conflict p.68).

In the last week, I have had two pieces published on the website of The Conversation. You can read the latest one here (a version follows below, too) and the earlier one (posted last week on this site) here. Among other issues, they consider the challenges of reporting from Gaza, and the way editorial priorities in the Middle East are shifting.

Fortifications near Qalandia check point between the West Bank and Jerusalem, June 2014 ©James Rodgers

Fortifications near Qalandia check point between the West Bank and Jerusalem, June 2014 ©James Rodgers

The world was no longer watching – at least, that was what both Israelis and Palestinians seemed to feel when I visited Jerusalem and the West Bank late last month.

Yet the people on both sides of the conflict suspected what outsiders did not: that things could go badly wrong very soon. Now missiles strike targets in Gaza to stop rockets launching out of there. With a combination of horror and despair, the world is watching.

I had been on the West Bank talking to people for my next book: Headlines from the Holy Land. Travelling back to Jerusalem, I wondered if I could step off the bus at the main check point to take pictures of some of the fortifications.

When I was based in the region, this might have been something which could get you into trouble – perhaps only shouted at; perhaps warned off with a shot. At the back of my mind was always the death of James Miller, a British cameraman fatally shot by the Israeli Army in Gaza at the time I lived and worked there as the BBC’s correspondent.

All the people I asked whether it was safe or wise to take photos at the Qalandiya checkpoint dismissed my concerns. One Palestinian journalist even told me it had become “like a TV studio” there. I jumped off the bus, took my pictures, and got on the next bus back to East Jerusalem.

A week later that side of the city was no longer as calm. Palestinians, angered at the abduction and killing of a Palestinian teenager, clashed with Israeli Security forces. That abduction was apparently carried out in response to the earlier killing of three Israeli teenagers. At the time of my visit, the three Israelis had been missing for ten days, but their deaths were yet to be confirmed.

The atmosphere I experienced – where you could pass checkpoints without hindrance, and photograph the concrete wall next to them – was deceptive.

Two weeks later, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict has reached a level of violence not seen since Israel’s last major offensive on Gaza, in November 2012. Then, as now, Israel says its operation is aimed at stopping rockets being launched at Israeli targets. Now, as then – given the density of population in the besieged coastal territory – the majority of the dead are civilians.

That’s more like the Gaza I knew when I lived there from 2002-2004, at the height of the second intifada, or Palestinian uprising against Israel. Perhaps because of my previous experience, I too feared the worse when I read of the disappearance of the Israeli teenagers. There seemed a strong chance their deaths, if such they were, would not be the last.

Israelis I spoke to on my first morning in Jerusalem asked if the story was being covered in the UK. I explained that Iraq and Syria were dominating the British headlines from the region.

They were dominating news-gathering agendas, too. For while the calm I experienced crossing into the West Bank two weeks ago may have been temporary, something else had changed since the second intifada: the number of international journalists based in Jerusalem. It had fallen significantly. Many US news organisations had left – driven away by dwindling budgets, drawn away by more dramatic events elsewhere in the Middle East. Rumour suggested some big British names were planning to follow suit.

Would it matter if Jerusalem ceased to be the journalistic hub it has been in recent decades? There are good reasons for going elsewhere – not least that Israel’s relations with some of its neighbours make it a poor departure point for travel in the wider Middle East.

My own experience with my camera that afternoon taught me a valuable lesson. My concern that taking pictures might land me in trouble was based on my experiences of a decade ago. Reporters working there more recently knew I was not really taking a risk. Yet if things had changed, it was only on the surface. The bloodshed in Gaza of recent days shows that the previous quiet did not mean peace.

That leads me to another reason why reporting from Jerusalem is so valuable. Palestinians and Israelis have little direct contact. In that part of the world, international journalists are among the few who can travel widely, including to Gaza.

Even diplomats, divided as they are between missions to Israel and the Palestinian Authority, rarely get the full picture. Those from the EU and the US are not even permitted to talk to Hamas), which has been in charge of Gaza for the best part of a decade. They may instead seek journalists’ views.

So reporting from Jerusalem, whatever its shortcomings, is an invaluable resource for understanding the region. Diplomacy, in the shape of the latest failed talks, has ground once more to a halt. News organisations should reflect that no peace process should not mean no correspondent.

Next book: ‘Headlines from the Holy Land’

At the start of this year, I began work on my next book, ‘Headlines from the Holy Land’.

The book is due to be published next year by Palgrave MacMillan. It is the story of the way the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is, and has been, reported — particularly by British and U.S. media. I’ll be publishing more details on this site as the work progresses.
For interviews and other research, I travelled in January to Jerusalem and the West Bank. The day before I left, I chanced to see a war memorial in my local church in west London. It revealed a link between where I was going, where I had once reported from, and where I now lived.

I wrote the story of what I found for the BBC’s ‘From our own Correspondent’. It was broadcast on Radio 4 in the U.K., and on the BBC World Service, during the last week. You can listen to it here, and a version of the script follows.

At this time of year, the grass in the cemetery seems at its greenest – watered not by sprinklers, as in the summer heat, but by winter rain, and, unusually this year, snow. There are more than two-and-a-half thousand headstones. Standing out against the hillside, they rise in rows up a gentle slope.

The British and Commonwealth War Cemetery, Jerusalem

The British and Commonwealth War Cemetery, Jerusalem

In the distance, through trees and telegraph wires, you can see the domes and spires of the Old City of Jerusalem: the prize which brought to the Holy Land the soldiers who are buried here.

A view of the Old City of Jerusalem from the cemetery

A view of the Old City of Jerusalem from the cemetery

When I visited, a team of gardeners were weeding the flower beds which lie at the foot of the gravestones. I was looking for names I had seen in my local church in London the afternoon before my departure. Noticing a wooden cross above a book of remembrance, I had gone for a closer look. The cross turned out to have been carved from wood from the Mount of Olives. Soldiers from my area had, it seemed, served in Gaza and Jerusalem during the First World War. Having spent two years as the BBC’s correspondent in Gaza a decade ago, the connection fascinated me. So when I returned to the region last week to conduct research for a book, I decided to see if I could find their graves.

I wasn’t having much luck. Then someone behind me called out, ‘Hello! Where are you from?’ I turned to see one of the gardeners rising from his work. He introduced himself as Mohammed, and said that he had worked there since 1970. Four decades and more did not seem to have decreased his enthusiasm. His hair was white, and some of his teeth were missing – but his work seemed to invigorate him, and he had a moustache to make a patriarch proud. Had I been to other cemeteries? After I told him I had been to the ones in Gaza, we chatted about the gardener who had tended those for many years, and whom I had met when I reported on his retirement.

With Mohammed’s help, I was pointed in the direction of the graves of some of the men from my local parish. They had been killed a few days before Christmas 1917, as British forces sought to consolidate their hold on Jerusalem.  Their occupation of the Holy Land then was part of the process – the defeat and dismantling of the Ottoman Empire – which would see the Middle East divided by borders we largely recognize today.

British forces stayed in Jerusalem until 1948. Their commanders came to use the King David Hotel, opened in the early 1930s, as their Head Quarters. This made the building a target for Jewish fighters seeking to drive them out of Palestine. In July 1946, bombers disguised as milkmen blew up the southern wing of the hotel, killing 91 people. Today the King David hosts Presidents and Prime Ministers. Guests in sitting the lobby on my recent visit seemed casually dressed, but snatches of conversation, and ubiquitous smartphones and tablet computers, suggested they were doing big business. It is not a place for the budget backpacker to the Middle East.

I had come to learn more about the experience of my journalist counterparts in the late 1940s. Some of them had narrow escapes from the explosion. ‘It was here,’ explained Maya Morav, the hotel’s PR Manager, flicking on the lights to a basement room. ‘Now it’s a hall for conferences and meetings.’ Then it had been a subterranean kitchen: the place where the bombers left the milk churns they had packed with explosives.

Less than two years later, the British Mandate came to an end. British involvement in the Middle East, of course, did not. When you are covering the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as a correspondent, you need to have history at your fingertips: often, more than one version of it. One of my earliest experiences in Gaza was being welcomed, and then chastised, by an elderly Palestinian refugee. Because I was British, he saw me as bearing some of the blame for events of the previous century which had left his family in a shanty town in one of the most crowded parts of the world. Perhaps he had a point. As events remembering the First World War begin this year in Europe, perhaps the real focus should be on the Middle East, where decisions taken then helped to shape Jerusalem, Gaza, Israel, Syria, and Iraq as they are today.

The entrance to the cemetery

The entrance to the cemetery

All photographs © James Rodgers 2014

The Middle East: News and Narratives

I will be speaking at an event at King’s College London next week —  on Thursday October 24th — about the challenges of reporting from the Middle East. It is part of the Inside Out Festival 2013.

Admission to the event, The Middle East: News and Narratives, is free, but you do need to register. You can do so here. It is part of the Olive Tree Programme at City University London, where I lecture in Journalism.

I will be discussing some of the ideas in my books Reporting Conflict and No Road Home.

Image ©Yoav Galai reproduced with permission

Image ©Yoav Galai reproduced with permission

New Article on the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

My latest article  on the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict, The Roadmap Ripped Up: Lessons from Gaza in the Second Intifada has just been published by Mediterranean Quarterly (Duke University Press). You can read the abstract (summary) here http://bit.ly/1b90Nak, or the whole text if you have a subscription. The article draws on ideas in my latest book, ‘No Road Home: Fighting for Land and Faith in Gaza.’

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