Newsgroup: it.politica.internazionale
Titolo: Come Sderot ha creato Gaza

http://electronicintifada.net/v2/article6934.shtml
Yesterday eight members of one family were murdered on the spot in
Israel's latest military strike on Gaza. The target, doctor Khaleel Al-
Haya, a Hamas member, remained unharmed. Later in the day Islamic
Jihad responded by firing two homemade rockets into Gaza. One Israeli
citizen was killed, another wounded.
This sounds like a horrible, but straightforward series of events. The
only aspect that calls for attention is that one of these attacks is
considered terrorism, while the other is mentioned in most media
outlets only in passing, and referred to as a legitimate attempt on a
bad man's life. As Israel's extra-judicial assassinations in Gaza once
again become the norm, Gaza is being cast into deeper and deeper
despair.
A month ago I visited Sderot and met with Dvora Babyan, an Israeli
citizen of Iranian and Libyan descent. A homemade Qassam rocket hit
her house on April 21 causing damage to the building but causing no
fatalities. Having come from Gaza that morning, I had the sense I was
overhearing Dvora's words as if spoken to a Palestinian living in
Gaza.
"We have sense, we are not barbarians. They are barbarians, we want
peace but they are not interested ... When we strike we have to take
into consideration the civilians, they don't do this," she said.
Dvora's mindset entails a particular logic that Israel's aggression,
because a familiar military apparatus is carrying it out, necessarily
verifies its legitimacy. It barely matters who is killed or how many
bystanders are dead if the intentions are those of a recognized
military body. Why? Because behind the decision to carry out one such
execution is expected to be a well-thought out and legal procedure,
unknown to all and yet accepted by the general public. The targeting
of a certain Hamas actor is a foreign scene; a rocket hitting a villa
in a nice neighborhood of Sderot on the other hand is too close to
home not to become a successful headline that grips reader's
attention.
In her thought process Dvora simply avoids the fact that in this
rocket attack on the Gaza Strip eight civilians were killed, including
a 16-year-old boy and two men over 60; for since these civilians were
killed by the army, they must be legitimate targets. At the least
their deaths must have been a worthwhile sacrifice in light of the
threat posed by the assassination's intended target.
A pile of Qassam rockets fired from Gaza to the Israeli town of
Sderot, 6 December 2006. (Magnus Johansson/MaanImages)
Going one level deeper and trying to assess the moral dimension of
such a perspective, it seems that by placing on a scale the death of a
Palestinian family on one side and the security of an Israeli
community on the other, the balance is retained. The only matter here
being that such an imagined weighing is itself a logical fallacy,
because the targeted deaths of innocents will never provide security,
it will only harbor further revenge. The myth of violence comes into
play here, that the assassinations of a few will create security for
many. In reality, this myth provides cover up for Israel's actions of
the past. Dvora went on in desperation,
"Where will I go? This is my country, this is my home, there is no
other place."
Sadly, Dvora would be surprised to know that these questions are not
foreign to the Palestinians living only kilometers from her home.
Israeli historian Benny Morris writes this: "the Jewish state would
not have come into existence without the uprooting of 700,000
Palestinians. Therefore it was necessary to uproot them ... There are
circumstances in history that justify ethnic cleansing." Today Gaza is
reaping the consequences of this "necessary" ethnic cleansing.
Refugees arriving in Gaza in 1948 must have asked themselves, "Where
will I go? This is my country, that was my home, there is no other
place." The home they were referring to lay in the uprooted villages
most of which were destroyed shortly after their Palestinian
inhabitants were driven from them. No insurance agents came to assess
the damages in Palestinian homes that day. No journalists came to
write reports. They must have been haunted by that same question,
"what barbarian would do this to me?"
The difference between these two cases of questioning is the fact that
the coming into existence of Sderot created the hell that the Gaza
Strip is today. A little town by the name of Sderot become home to
poor immigrants in the early '50s, only years after it had been
cleared of Palestinians living in what was the village of Najd.
Another resident of Sderot told me that when he got there in 1989 he
thought he was in "the safest place in the world, in the middle of
nowhere." And yet, it was not the middle of nowhere, he had moved onto
what was once someone else's land and adjacent to where that displaced
person and their displaced descendents were held imprisoned. There,
his displaced neighbors daily faces the consequences of the past. This
past is what is allowing for the hell of that very town, Sderot.
"Fear is the hardest thing ... People rather go shopping in [the near
by town of] Ashqelon than in Sderot because it is safer," Dvora said.
Gazans have nowhere to escape to.
Today fear fills the hearts of Gaza's people. A fear that they may one
day return from their perpetual search for charity and donation empty
handed (80 percent of Gazans are receiving international food aid); a
fear of waking to another day of hopelessness (70 percent of Gazans
are either unemployed or largely unpaid government employees); a fear
that the economic disaster they are experiencing today may overcome
their lives (60 percent of the population live under the poverty level
of $2 per day); a fear is that this economic crisis will divide the
entire population in inter-factional feuding and result in a lawless
chaos as factions and political parties vie for the little power that
does exist in Gaza.
Over the course of the past week Israel has begun to evacuate Israeli
citizens from Sderot and has moved them into a camp in Tel Aviv.
Gaza's only outlet to the world via Egypt has been closed for the past
ten days as Gaza's citizens remains locked in Gaza, like a detention
center. When the border opens it is only the lucky few who can "go
shopping in Ashqelon."
Philip Rizk is an Egyptian-German who has lived in Gaza since August
2005 where he works and writes. Philip runs a blog: 
tabulagaza.com
.

appare irrilevante, perderci tempo č stupido.
Infatti.  La trovo una cosa molto ma molto ipocrita. (Persio)