the exile within

“What is this? I will have you shown outside!”  

The voice of authority. But this time, it is not a lecturer in university or even an army officer. This time it is the president of the Israeli Supreme Court herself, Dorit Beinisch. Scolding me, amongst others, for clapping during a hearing about the government’s plan to cut back on electricity streaming into the Gaza strip from Israel. A middle-aged peace worker who so far seemed content staying out of earshot of us volunteers who are doing their best providing simultaneous translation in whispered English, leans over to me and asks: “what did she say?”.  

“That we’re not supposed to clap.” I smile.  

Fair enough. It’s my first time in the Israeli Supreme Court. The interiors are light, clean and full of white curves. It verges on the post-modern, and does it well.  

“So if there are 4 electricity lines going into the Gaza strip, that use around 250 ampere a day, how is lowering the limit from 350 to 320 going to have any effect?”, the President asks the squad of lawyers, soldiers and policemen that form the state defence team. I find it strangely pleasant to see people in the highest ranks of society make silly mistakes. On the other hand it’s not always comforting when they also happen to occupy the most influential positions. 

Bent on his circular argument, the defence lawyer responds: “well, if the court would allow us to continue, we will show our conviction with the prospect that ultimately it is someone on the other side deciding how to distribute the electricity to the different sectors, and that factories manufacturing weapons and missiles are sure to be affected as long as hospitals and schools are not.” 

This is obviously a desperate and counter-productive attempt from a largely non-negotiating government to exert more pressure on an already devastated economy. Yet, it is hardly surprising. This is classic practise in all militant hierarchies (as well as in some less militant ones): if the prankster don’t confess, everyone suffers at the hand of authority. To suggest this will be effective in saving Israeli citizens in Sderot from the threat of Qassam rockets is a bit like taking to spraying your garden with poison to take out the weeds. Even if it is the Palestinian power company deciding who gets what - is it not foreseeable that Palestinian politicians will want to magnify this in the eyes of the international community as a crude attack on humanitarian supplies, which, according to International Humanitarian Law, it is? After all, Gaza is not an independent sovereign state. This is not war strategy, it is collective punishment. Is it not, more importantly, reasonable to think that as long as the treatment is collective it will not so much deter guerilla fighters as lend them civil support? As usual, the Israeli government is not too concerned with what the world thinks, let alone civilians in Gaza.  

Fuel cuts have gone into effect in Gaza at the end of October. This has a direct effect on water supplies, as water pumps work on fuel. Many homes in Gaza already only have electricity for a few hours every day. The defence cited entry of large quantities of building materials and heavy tools into Gaza as evidence that “a humanitarian minimum” would not be affected by the electricity cuts. The petitioners reminded the court that building materials are of little use to Gazan workers as long as factories have limited access to power, and that the tight siege on export still means that the economy is stifled and entirely dependent on Israeli power.  

What ultimately tipped the scales in favour of the petitioners could be the fact that in-depth data in regards to electricity use in Gaza could only be produced by the state for the period of up to 2005. The court enforced a 3-week delay for the military to prove its claim that the cuts would not affect civil populations, which seems unlikely to succeed. Gisha, the NGO working to ensure the freedom of movement which has headed the petition, won a small victory.