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  • What lurks beneath Israel's right to defend itself? – The Left Berlin

    What lurks beneath Israel's right to defend itself? – The Left Berlin

    It’s not what they want you to think

    First published on The Left Berlin

    The other day I heard Bernie Sanders proclaim that “Israel has a right to defend itself”, as he made the case for a Harris presidency. He spoke in his trademark gruff manner, a tone whose charm has long faded since it has been co-opted to the service of empire—of making the empire marginally more progressive.

    “…but”, he went on to deliver a call for moderation and limits to Israel’s violence. And then to insist we should still vote for politicians who enable genocide and glory in the lies that justify it. I’m not here to debate whether or not someone should vote. This is a morally and strategically complex issue that is mostly inconsequential to the mad trajectory our planet is spinning along.

    What interests me more is the construction of the oath: “Israel has a right to defend itself”, that Bernie and others feel the need to recite before delivering any critique of Israel’s war on Palestine. Curiously, it is the same line used by Biden and Harris to justify sending the weapons that are doing the killing that Sanders claims to find abhorrent. And it is used by the genocidaires themselves, Netanyahu and others, along with their cheerleaders. This should be enough to make us pause and consider what this supposedly self-evident truth says and does not say.

    So, once again: “Israel has a right to defend itself.”

    Let’s start with the “Israel” part. In what sense does the identity of being Israel constitute a set of rights? Is it that Israel, as a nation-state, has a right to defend itself, because, apparently, nation-states have a right to self-defence?

    A lot of legal minds don’t think international law supports what Israel has done to Gaza. In any case, I doubt that many people are weighing the UN charter in their heads when someone is droning on about Israel’s righteous violence. They are more likely to reach for whatever commonplace ideas of fairness they have accumulated in their everyday lives.

    For instance, the way I typically understand self-defence is that, when someone is attacking me, I have the right to use violence to repel their violence. So if someone comes into my house and strikes me with a baseball bat, I can use the counter-violence of my cast iron wok or electric fly swatter until they stop, and preferably leave. The right to self-defence does not endorse finding out where my attacker lives and blowing up their house, killing them, their families and their neighbours as well.

    This is obviously not a perfect analogy for many reasons. Individuals and nation-states are different kinds of entities, and also, the Hamas attacks on October 7 took place in the context of Israel’s long genocidal campaign against Palestine. It is not some random home invasion.

    I make the analogy to show that even if we were to agree that nation-states have a right to use violence to make themselves safe, in the case of Israel, this right applied only when Hamas was attacking the rave, kibbutzim and military bases along the borders of the Gaza concentration camp. Once Hamas left, that licence expired.

    What about the rockets? Given that they have caused very few civilian casualties, the right to self-defence does not extend to obliterating apartment buildings, schools, universities and hospitals on the faintest whiff of conjecture that someone is hiding a rocket launcher in an MRI machine.

    Perhaps Israel does understand self-defence to mean that when someone attacks you, you have an unlimited right to strike back with no consideration of proportionality. An eye for an eye doctrine, or at the latest count 250 eyes for an eye, according to the Lancet journal (and not just eyes, but arms, legs, jaws, skin–hundreds of thousands of human lives obliterated).

    If this is the case, then the right to violence extends in all directions—physical, temporal—and to all actors in the bloody drama of human existence. Israel justifies its violent war on Gaza based on the October 7 attack. Fine. But in this infinite regress, Hamas can then say the October 7 attack was justified by, for instance, Israeli snipers shooting out the knees of peaceful protesters. Or the kid you pushed around when you were 13 can show up at your work and break your legs, so you can never ever bully them again. This concept of self-defence bloats and degenerates to the point where it can justify virtually any act of violence, by anyone, committed anywhere—because there will always be some act of violence preceding it.

    I don’t think that’s what Israel or its defenders want to imply. In fact, I see the outlines of something much more ominous lurking beneath the surface.

    Let’s circle back to the question of what “Israel” signifies. Perhaps they are saying that Israel has a right to defend itself not as any old nation-state, but because it is Israel. What then is the elusive quality of “being Israel” that grants it special rights to use violence against its perceived enemies?

    The way I see it, Israel’s right to self-defence is not about the October 7 attacks or the fleeting barrages of rockets that disturb the sky over Tel Aviv. Rather, it is coiled with a desire to repress the memory that Israel was created very recently on lands upon which others lived and who were violently expelled. The Nakba haunts the lands upon which the nation-state of Israel stands.

    So it is the mere existence of Palestinians at all that constitutes a psychic and existential threat to the state of Israel, against which Israel feels emboldened to unleash unending waves of slaughter until those they perceive as a threat escape into permanent exile or turn into dust. This would go a long way to explain why so many fading empires and settler-colonies are backing Israel’s genocide with moral support and military aid. Also, why Israel’s war on Palestine has no end in sight; why parents carry their children home from school as bags of meat; why Gaza sometimes looks less like a city under siege and more like the cratered surface of the moon.

    However you interpret it, none of the many implications of the dirge that “Israel has a right to defend itself” withstand scrutiny—unless you are inclined to partake in a nihilistic orgy of retributive violence, or you think that certain ethnic enclaves possess special rights to commit genocide.

    So we should just stop saying it.

  • Trish the Weatherwoman: The 4th Reich

    Trish the Weatherwoman: The 4th Reich

    A THIRD RAIL drag show on the slippery ubiquity of fascism.

    With her satellite dish tilted towards the void and her mascara bleeding from the humidity, “THE 4TH REICH” is Trish’s latest, desperate broadcast—
    a feverish dissection of the modern fascism’s vapid face.

    From pubic lice to the Epstein saga, from gooning to Germany’s fake-ass denazification, from karaoke bar to soapbox, Trish dices the highbrow and the rock-bottom lowbrow into a fever chart for our political moment: where deep states corrode into our entombed traumas, manifest as ripples on the atmospheric surface of our own disintegrating selves.

    Part camp exorcism of elite fuckery, part breaking-news breakdown, this is one forecast you don’t want to miss.

    Dates

    3rd January 2026PAF, St Erme, France
    4 October 2024Gieza’s Pokehouse, Tipsy Bear, Berlin
    28-29 March 2024König Theater, Delphi Theater, Berlin
    21-22 January 2024König, Tipsy Bear Berlin

    About Trish

    “Is it just me, or is it a little moist down south?”

    A fever-dream hybrid of Network’s Howard Beale and the suburban delirium of Kath & Kim, Trish is an 80s Sydney weatherwoman on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

    This bleached-blonde Cassandra clawed her way from the secretarial pool to Channel 6’s morning forecast. All she wants? One. Flawless. Broadcast. But a great stinking hole has opened up in the ozone layer – a rupture in the fragile membrane holding her reality in place. Can she nail the day’s outlook before her monsoon of desire and rage raining all over her dreams?

    Trish’s debut: “A Word That Starts with G” was devised at the dawn of 2024, months after Israel accelerated its genocide in the Gaza Strip. Conceived as Berlin’s art scene iced over into complicit silence, Trish—”your lovable, fuckable, yet fundamentally attainable weathergirl”—became the unhinged tornado they deserved. Part camp spectacle, part soap box tirade: her manicured hands point to stormfronts while tracing the contours of institutional complicity.

    Further reading on Trish: A word that starts with “G” and ends with “enocide”

  • The symmetries of “legitimate” and “illegitimate” violence

    The symmetries of “legitimate” and “illegitimate” violence

    Last Tuesday, Spring finally broke through the winter gloom. I was with my kindred lover, friend, collaborator Kate, locking our bikes beside a small playground to get ice cream. I pulled Kate towards me and kissed them and they kissed me back.

    Three honks from a nearby car shred our intimacy. Our mouths pulled away and we glanced through the tinted windows at the vague globulous outline of the driver within.

    “Is that about us?” Kate asked me. “Are we being hate-crimed?”

    Maybe he was just waiting for a friend and was irritable, I wondered. Maybe it had nothing to do with us.

    Our defiant mouths closed in on one another. The driver honked again. And again. This time we ignored him, though, now I felt myself as achingly visible to the world and I made inventory of what we were wearing.

    I was wearing a long, bright blue butterfly dress, its little antennas poked out from the space between my breasts. Kate was wearing fishnets over marine blue stockings and red leather shorts, suspenders and a t-shirt. This always happens in times of danger. I suppose it’s an evolutionary safety mechanism, something little mammals evolved in cruel and indifferent jungles to blend into their surroundings and disappear..

    We moved to to the line of people snaking from the ice cream parlour and took up space behind a young girl, around eight years old, standing alone. After a few moments, a woman introduced herself as the girl’s mother and apologetically cut in front of us. To her apology I said:

    “That’s why we have kids, isn’t it? So they can hold places for us in the line.”

    “I was born in the Soviet Union, so I’m a professional when it comes to lining up.”

    I laughed a little too loudly, revealing the taut vigilance that tightened my body. I noticed a man emerging from the car, a large man, swollen to an extent that I suppose is only possible through the use of steroids. His hair was clipped, and he wore a muscle t-shirt. He walked towards us with slow menace; it was clear he wasn’t after a cone.

    “You should be ashamed to do that in front of children.”

    “I’m sorry, but we don’t feel ashamed.” I said.

    “I have kids,” Kate added, “there is nothing wrong with expressing love.”

    “You should be ashamed.” He repeated. Again and again. He spoke a lot about children but I suspected his focus on their supposed innocence was just a screen to hide his disgust at the very fact of our existence–that we would flaunt it so. That we, freaks in his eyes, should have the gall to feel safe to show affection in a public space.

    “That’s enough. You can go now,” said the mother. He edged closer to her.

    “What has this got to do with you?”

    “You’re threatening people.”

    “I’m not threatening anyone. You’re threatening me.”

    I noticed his hands were curled into fists and I told him so.

    The eight-year-old, very courageously, joined the chorus of people pleading with him to go away.

    He looked down at her, “Is that what you do? Is that how you act when adults are talking? You think its okay to talk to adults like that?”

    The child looked at the ground.

    The push-pull continued for some more minutes. Two of his friends joined him. Another man tried to intervene on our behalf. I did my best to ignore him for his own safety.

    “I’m not doing anything,” said the muscleman. “I am just standing here on the street and you are yelling at me.” He said. “All I want is peace.”

    “So do we.” I said, trying to speak with sincerity. “You want peace, we want peace, so let’s just end this conversation.”

    A friend of the muscleman, shorter, pudgy, with a slightly queer edge, began to plead ironically for the three of them to leave. “Can we go now? Please! I’m afraid of these people,” he said, waving his hand at us.

    The muscleman paused, muttered something, before hulking back to his car.

    ***

    The police wore body armour and looked ready for combat. They carried pepper spray and batons and moved in long lines on our periphery. They were waiting for a pretence to strike, for instance: a forbidden chant like “From the River To The Sea – Palestine Will Be Free”, which to my mind, is akin to hauling someone away from a Greensboro lunch counter.

    As we crossed an intersection, the police struck. Three or four demonstrators got churned up in this man-machine of gruesomely hard bodies acting in violent concert. They were pushed to the ground and trampled beneath toe-capped boots. A sucker punch was thrown, the target reeled, and was then gripped from every limb and hauled from the crowd, hands covering his mouth and nose so that he could not breathe.

    It was Wednesday the first of May. We were demonstrating for Palestine and our path almost crossed the ice cream parlour. I thought of the muscleman. If he had thrown a punch at me, would I have called for the police? Would I have begged the state to ride in with its monopoly on violence to save me from his malice?

    Both the muscleman and the bureaucrats with truncheons and toe-capped boots worship power over others, despite the justifications they spit your way, whether that be “save the children” or “regulation transgressed”. Relying on these forces for protection is self-defeating, like using a bullet to heal a wound.

    It’s never the right time for this conversation as there are always more important battles to be fought. So now as good a time as any to ask: how can we avoid planting the seeds of the old power in the earth of the new?