paper on the position of an isreali scholar on the genocide

An Israeli scholar explains why he no
longer supports the war in Gaza
It is now being run mainly for the benefit of Binyamin
Netanyahu, argues David Enoch
Mar 12th 2024
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AS CIRCUMSTANCES CHANGE, the Israeli left must reconsider its stand on the war
on Gaza. So should liberal supporters of Israel abroad.
During the first weeks of the war, following the October 7th atrocities, many
on the Israeli left, myself included, refused to call for an immediate ceasefire.
We were, even then, well aware of the tremendous suffering and loss among
innocent Palestinians, and critical of some of the ways in which the war was
conducted. Still, many of us were convinced—justifiably, I still think—that the
October 7th attacks and their aftermath left Israel with no reasonable
alternative to a large-scale military action in Gaza, despite its horrendous
price.
In the weeks after the attacks, many Israelis, especially on the left, witnessed
with incredulity and pain the shameful responses of many outside Israel,
including some who consider themselves a part of the left. We were quick to
expose the lies and hypocrisy of those who think of themselves as freedom-

and justice-fighters, the self-proclaimed supporters of victims wherever they
are, who suddenly had no sympathy for the victims of the October 7th
atrocities, or no understanding of the need to prevent such atrocities from
occurring again. Our defence of Israel was not unreserved, but it was a defence
nonetheless.
Some of us also harshly criticised unsubstantiated claims about allegedly
indiscriminate Israeli attacks in Gaza, or amateurish dismissals of the
significance of deterrence (and so of the need to re-establish it). I myself called
for modesty in public discourse, recognising the complexities and paucity of
information available to most of us. Such modesty, I suggested, should prevent
us from reaching confident conclusions, and should perhaps encourage us to
seek and tentatively put our trust in the more reasonable among Israeli
decision-makers.
But the reality in Gaza and the region is dynamic, and Israel’s war should no
longer be supported. The main remaining aim of the military operation as it is
currently run is the political survival of Binyamin Netanyahu. The Israeli
prime minister knows that any reasonable agreement regarding Gaza is likely
to topple his extreme-right coalition. This, together with the likely
strengthening of protests calling for his removal once the war effort is no
longer centre-stage, is not a prospect Mr Netanyahu will relish.
It is very hard, perhaps impossible, to pinpoint an exact moment when such a
war crosses the line into moral indefensibility. This is especially so seeing that
in some respects (the suffering of innocent Gazans) it was horrible from the
start, and that in others (the struggle to secure the release of the hostages) it
remains justified even today. Still, two factors make it clear that that line has
now been crossed: considerations of deterrence, and the information received
from inside the Israeli decision-making establishment.
Leaving the October 7th atrocities without a forceful, devastating response
would have left Israeli deterrence dangerously weak. The moral need to
restore deterrence—and it is a moral need, as deterrence saves many lives, on
all sides of all borders—could have perhaps justified the bringing about of
otherwise horrendous devastation in Gaza. But this has already been achieved:
Israel has demonstrated to anyone in the region paying attention not just its
firepower, but also its willingness to use it ruthlessly. And it is hard to believe
that the operations still taking place in Gaza—to a large extent more a
maintenance effort than an aggressive one—add anything by way of deterrence
value.

The reports emanating from people in Israeli military and decision-making
circles are that the war is not just being run incompetently, but also that Mr
Netanyahu’s resistance to any attempt to discuss “the day after”, as well as the
absence of anything resembling a strategic plan, threatens to undermine even
the military achievements already (temporarily) secured. That such reports
repeatedly come from those in the know—much more so recently than in
October or November—helps to lift, to an extent, the fog of uncertainty. Less is
called for, then, by way of epistemic modesty: the likely value of continuing the
war effort is minimal.
As the positive value we could expect from the war effort has been
continuously declining in recent months, the price has continued to be very
high. The death toll in Gaza is beyond imagination, and continues to rise. On
all accounts, many thousands of the dead and injured are children. There are
now fewer deaths as a result of Israeli bombings than earlier on, but more
owing to hunger. Even conservative predictions about hunger and disease are
more depressing still. Even if the price, in terms of the death and suffering of
innocents, could have been justified earlier on, with deterrence and other
values on the line, it cannot be justified now.
Some things, of course, do not change. That Hamas is a ruthless, fanatical
terrorist organisation, indifferent to the fate of its own civilian population, and
happy to use civilian hostages as playing cards, has not changed. It remains as
true as ever that Hamas’s leadership could have ended the suffering months
ago by releasing the hostages and leaving the Gaza Strip; it still can.
Consequently, it is also true that if Hamas remains powerful in Gaza, this will
be a huge obstacle to any manageable post-war governance of the territory.
And further threats, both to Israel and to the entire region, remain to be dealt
with. So solutions remain highly complex. Some modesty is still called for.
But the general direction is clear: Israel should take part in shaping an overall,
internationally supervised and implemented strategy for the region that would
include—along the lines of plans suggested by the Biden administration—a
plan to minimise further death and suffering in Gaza. The international
community should push Israel in that direction—if need be, forcefully.
Given Mr Netanyahu’s determination to be an obstacle to any such progress,
given his government’s (at best) indifference to the loss of innocent Gazan
lives, and indeed given his indifference to the fate of even Israeli hostages and
Israeli soldiers, a necessary condition for progress is his removal from office. ■

David Enoch is the Professor of the Philosophy of Law at the University of
Oxford and a professor of law and philosophy at the Hebrew University of
Jerusalem.
T
HE RESULT of Russia’s presidential election was entirely predictable. Long before the first
ballot was cast, it was clear that Vladimir Putin, the country’s dictator since 1999, would win
by a predetermined, overwhelming majority. Russia’s electoral commission claims that Mr
Putin won 87% of the vote on a record turnout of 77.5%. Voting, which took place between
March 15th and 17th, was strictly supervised. In illegally occupied parts of Ukraine, voters
cast their ballots at gunpoint. Mr Putin faced no credible opponents: most of Russia’s
opposition is in exile, in jail or dead.
Across the world, dodgy elections are common: at least 28 of the 76 countries holding
elections this year will not have a fully free and fair vote, according to EIU, our sister
company. Roughly a third of the world’s countries are run by authoritarian regimes that hold
flawed elections. Dictators use them to claim legitimacy and reward citizens for loyalty. They
may secure victory by lying about the result, rigging the electoral system and media coverage
in their favour, harassing the opposition, coercing voters or bribing them with handouts.
How can genuine democracies respond to rigged elections—and does it make any difference?
Foreign governments have few good options. Countries tend to recognise and co-operate
with one another, regardless of ideological differences. Military intervention is risky and
unpopular. America balks at sending troops into Haiti, a country in its backyard where gangs
have, in effect, overthrown the government. ECOWAS, a west African bloc, failed to agree on
military action to restore democracy in Niger, where military leaders staged a coup last year.
Democracies may refuse to recognise the results of rigged elections. That is laudable—but the
impact on dictators is often negligible, even when the admonishment is accompanied with
sanctions. In 2019 Western and South American democracies endorsed Juan Guiadó as
Venezuela’s interim president after Nicolás Maduro awarded himself another six-year term
in a sham election. The sanctions they imposed on the country hurt ordinary Venezuelans.
But because Mr Maduro controlled the army, he retained power. Mr Guaidó, who lives in
America, is now largely irrelevant. In April he was kicked out of Colombia while trying to
attend a conference on the future of Venezuela. America has in effect recognised Mr Maduro.
Last year America agreed to ease sanctions on the country after it agreed to hold a free
presidential election this year. That looks unlikely: Venezuela’s top court has blocked
opposition candidates from running. In January America began reimposing sanctions.
All too often foreign governments ignore dodgy electoral tactics. In 2019 an independent
estimate said Martin Fayulu had won the Democratic Republic of Congo’s presidential
election with 60% of the vote. But the electoral commission claimed Félix Tshisekedi had
won with 39%, a few points ahead of Mr Fayulu. America noted irregularities but recognised
Mr Tshisekedi as president nonetheless. Accepting illegitimate elections has consequences.
The West’s reputation as a defender of democracy is wearing thin, just as democracy is
becoming rarer and less popular. And recognising illegitimate rulers can damage democratic
opposition movements.

America, Britain, the European Union and Ukraine have declared the result of Russia’s
presidential election illegitimate. Yet even as Western countries decried the poll as a sham,
they ensured that voting was carried out peacefully at their Russian embassies. Genuine
democracies are caught between an ideology that compels them to evangelise and the reality
of an increasingly undemocratic world.■