Antisemitismus-Debatte: Israel gehört nicht seiner Regierung

Der Fall Jakob Augsteins beleuchtet wieder ein Thema, das seit Jahrzehnten die Welt, vor allem Deutschland beschäftigt: Wie kritisiert man Israels Politik, ohne dabei ein Antisemit genannt zu werden? Das Simon-Wiesenthal-Zentrum (SWZ) scheint zu sagen: „Gar nicht.“ Damit folgt das SWZ einer beliebten Strategie zur Delegitimierung von Israels Kritikern, die sowohl von der Regierung und den israelischen Rechtsnationalisten als auch von unterschiedlichen Israel-Freunden weltweit benutzt wird.

Ihre Mittel sind klar. Das erste ist die Gleichsetzung von Netanjahus Regierung mit dem Staat Israel an sich. „Time Magazine“ hatte im letzten Mai leider völlig recht, als es Netanjahu zum „King Bibi“ auf seinem Titelblatt krönte. Denn wer sich gegen Netanjahu oder seine Spießgesellen äußert, wird als Feind Israels bezeichnet. L’État, c’est moi.
Das zweite Mittel ist, den Staat Israel mit allen Juden der Welt zu verbinden. Denn man kann nicht Augstein (beziehungsweise jedem anderen kritischen Leitartikler) Antisemitismus vorwerfen, ohne zu glauben, dass Zionismus Menschenliebe und Antizionismus (oder einfach das Hinterfragen des Zionismus) Judenhass bedeuteten. Dass viele Juden, darunter viele Israelis, Israels Regierung und ihre Verbrechen verabscheuen, wird selbstverständlich verschwiegen. Auch die Tatsache, dass viele davon post- oder sogar antizionistisch sind; denn jüdische Postzionisten, denen man Antisemitismus keinesfalls vorwerfen kann, passen einfach nicht ins Bild. Dafür werden sie innerhalb des Landes als Verräter diffamiert.

Die Logik lautet: Wenn man nicht auf jeden Einfall von Israels Regierung eingeht, wird das außer Gefecht setzende Wort „Antisemitismus“ wieder in den Ring geworfen. Denn wer sich gegen illegale Siedlungen, die Unterdrückung von arabischen Landwirten oder die Drohung, einen Atomkrieg mit Iran auszulösen, ausspricht, muss ja auch wollen - wie es Netanjahu mit seiner demagogischen Rhetorik wiederholt -, dass „all die Juden ins Meer geworfen“ werden sollten. Dabei bedient sich die Diskussion immer wieder des erprobten Mittels, gegen das nicht zu argumentieren ist, schon gar nicht in Deutschland: des Holocausts.

Die dichotomischen Rollen von Täter und Opfer, die durch die Bildungssysteme in Deutschland und in Israel verewigt werden, darf niemand bestreiten. Sie spiegeln sich durchaus in der deutsch-israelischen Diplomatie. Deutschlands Kollektivschuld, die von Generation zu Generation vererbt zu werden scheint, lässt kaum Spielraum zur Kritik an einem Land, das seine Existenz als Wiedergutmachung an allen Juden der Welt darzustellen meint.

Ein Beispiel dafür gab es erst kürzlich, als Deutschland sich bei der UN-Abstimmung über Palästinas Status als Beobachterstaat bei den Vereinten Nationen der Stimme enthielt. Was selbst der ehemalige israelische Ministerpräsident Ehud Olmert sagte, wagte die deutsche Regierung nicht zu wiederholen. Als der SPD-Vorsitzende Sigmar Gabriel nach seinem Besuch in Hebron letztes Jahr die Besatzung als Apartheid bezeichnete, wurde er wegen seiner Wortwahl angegriffen und als Antisemit beschimpft. In der Tat benutzte er einen Begriff, der laut einer Umfrage in der Zeitung „Haaretz“ teilweise oder völlig von achtundfünfzig Prozent der Israelis akzeptiert ist.

Das amerikanische Simon-Wiesenthal-Zentrum scheint ganz gut zu wissen, was es tut, wenn es ausgerechnet einen deutschen Publizisten in seinem Antisemitismus-Ranking plaziert. Denn Israel-Kritiker, welche dieselbe Terminologie wie Augstein benutzen, gibt es unter Journalisten auf der ganzen Welt - nicht zuletzt auch in Israel. Gidon Levi schrieb in seinem Kommentar in „Haaretz“ über das Gedicht von Günther Grass: „Es gibt in Grass’ ,Was gesagt werden muss‘ auch Sachen, die gesagt werden müssen. Man darf und sollte sagen, dass Israels Politik den Weltfrieden gefährdet.“

Wahrscheinlich nur in Deutschland kann eine solche Kritik als Antisemitismus interpretiert werden. Und wenn man gegen einen deutschen Journalisten diese Anklage erhebt, wird es doppelt so schwierig, seinen guten Namen wiederherzustellen. Denn Deutschland kommt von der Erinnerung an den Holocaust genauso wenig los wie Israel, wenn auch auf umgekehrte Weise. Vielleicht ist die Zeit endlich reif zu sagen: Der Zweite Weltkrieg ist vorbei. Lass uns über die Gegenwart reden.

Frankfurter Allgemeine (FAZ), 07.01.2013

Swapping Hurricane Sandy in New York for Tel Aviv’s bombs

On 14 November, Israel assassinated Hamas strongman Ahmed Jabari; now 3 Israelis and 20 Palestinians are dead. Of course, attacking the Gaza strip right before elections is a long-since beloved tradition of Israeli right wing governments. For the first time in 21 years, since the Gulf war, bombs are landing on Tel Aviv again, and a rocket has been fired on Jerusalem for the first time since 1970.

Three weeks ago I traveled to New York for the first time in my life. The moment I landed, I was informed that the storm which was about to hit was worse than first thought. Watching the news that night from a rented apartment in Jamaica, Brooklyn, I realized that staying was not an option. A mad five hours’ drive to Maine, with Sandy on our heels, roads closing behind us as we went, turned my plans upside down. Returning to the city a week later, I thought that the worst was behind me. I went to museums, watched the US elections at an LGBT cabaret bar on Christopher street ,and took photos of the gorgeous autumn, blissfully unaware of what I was missing in Israel.

As I posted a final Facebook status from New York, informing my friends of my return, someone replied: ‘I would suggest you to stay there, you are coming to be in a shelter from where I see it.’ I thought she was joking, and laughed about it with the Haitian cabby on my way to the airport. Landing in Tel Aviv was nothing if not normal. I came home, unpacked my travel bags, hung my new dresses in the closet and had dinner. Then an alarm sounded. Thoroughly used to drills, I decided to check the online news to make sure: Israel killed a Hamas leader. According to Israeli peace activist Gershon Baskin, who spoke to Haaretz newspaper, it happened while Ahmed Jabari was working on a permanent truce agreement with Israel.

From my apartment in the residential neighbourhood of Neveh Eliezer, in the south-east of the city, you can hear loud booms from time to time. The television is on, with its endless propaganda trying to justify landing yet another war on us, yet again just before an election (which have been moved from October 2013 to January). After multiple packing and re-packing for the past three weeks, this time, I am packing in a way I have always feared most – emergency packing. Every single significant document has been stuck into a big bag – passports, IDs, birth certificates, graduation documents. Some warm clothing. Dry food. Water. Medications. After that, it is time for the dreaded choice: what is my priciest belonging? Thoughts flash through my head – my guitar, my signed copies of Neil Gaiman’s books, mementos from relationships. I go to my jewellery stand. Choosing a necklace to wear to the bomb shelter is certainly the best way to find out which one is your favorite. There are only two things I would save first – my laptop and my camera, without which I cannot work. I pull on a pair of jeans and a beloved T-shirt. I refuse to head down for now, though. Perhaps it is my eternal optimism, perhaps it is insanity, but even with bombs crashing around me, I would still rather stay where I have internet connection and work. However, when they come for me, I’m ready; I have my purple necklace.

Café Babel, 16.11.2012

Concert review: Mashrou’ Leila rock stage in Amman with pro-gay songs

If you believe in reincarnations, you would swear that Freddie Mercury now resides in the body of Hamed Sinno, the charismatic and openly gay lead singer of the Lebanese indie band Mashrou' Leila. The name of the seven-piece from Beirut translates literally from the Arabic to ‘An Overnight Project’.

It is a chilly evening at the Roman Amphitheatre in Amman. Hamed Sinno reigns the stage, as if it was his very own private studio, fueled by passion. He creates an intimacy with every single person in the audience, with his magnificent voice rising up and beating down scales with effortless charm. Everything about him builds up the kind of showmanship that has almost passed from this world.

Sinno is an openly gay man, and Mashrou’ Leila’s lyrics cover just about every taboo imaginable: homosexual love, life in the closet, premarital sex, interfaith relationships and political and religious protest - and they don’t shy away from dirty language either. In a deeply religious, macho, homophobic society, where the very existence of gays is denied, the band gives Arab LGBT youth a much longed-for voice. No wonder that their short career, spanning only two albums so far, has already turned them into global stars, with concerts in Sinno is an openly gay man, and Mashrou’ Leila’s lyrics cover just about every taboo imaginable: homosexual love, life in the closet, premarital sex, interfaith relationships and political and religious protest - and they don’t shy away from dirty language either. In a deeply religious, macho, homophobic society, where the very existence of gays is denied, the band gives Arab LGBT youth a much longed-for voice. No wonder that their short career, spanning only two albums so far, has already turned them into global stars, with concerts in Arab and European countries alike.

However, Sinno’s stage presence is only a small part of what makes Mashrou’ Leila the phenomenon that it is. The band formed after meeting at the American university of Beirut in 2008. Combining electric guitars and keyboards with traditional violin sounds, their sound is neither distinctly oriental nor distinctly modern, and may call upon comparison to the Balkan rock, which took over Europe a few years ago. Nor are they a wedding band in stiff suits, or shallow pop icons – two of the images which are so prevalent in Arabic music nowadays.

The 3,000 people at the Roman amphitheater are a rare view to be seen in the Jordanian capital. The public sphere in Jordan is a male dominated one. Walking in Amman’s city center, you would be lucky to encounter a woman for every hundred men that cross your path. The women you do see are inevitably covered up from head to toe. Jordan’s modesty rules require that every woman going outside must be dressed accordingly: trousers and skirts must be long; tops must cover shoulders, chest and elbows; no item may be skintight. The female body is to be kept from sight – and this goes for female tourists as much as for residents.

Behind the theatre’s massive stone walls, however, it is another world altogether, and occasional hijabs mix in with the mass of revealing tops and tight jeans. Mashrou’ Leila’s crowd is as modern and rebellious as the band itself, singing the lyrics loudly when prompted. Shim el-Yasmin (‘Smell the jasmine’), a heartfelt ballad about the breakup of a gay couple as one of them chooses a closeted life with a wife and children, turns into a slow-dance for queer couples.

It is now the second year in a row that Chady Baddarni, a 23-year-old Palestinian from Tel Aviv, has orchestrated an organized trip to Amman to see his beloved band play live. What started out as just a desire to see Mashrou’ Leila perform live along with a couple of friends, turned into dozens of Palestinian and Israeli youth filling buses to spend a weekend in the Jordanian capital. This year an Israeli-Palestinian after-party was planned in one of Amman’s few nightclubs, Seventh Heaven. However, as is often the case with Middle Eastern politics, music is never just music.

 A week prior to the trip, the Jordanian popular boycott movement posted a letter on Facebook addressed to the event organizers of the after-party and to Baddarni personally, going from political opposition to racism and downright threats towards participants: ‘We cannot stress enough our firm opposition to any form of political or cultural normalisation activity with the so-called ‘State of Israel’ therefore facilitating the visit of any Zionist performer or attendee(s) to any cultural event hosted here in Jordan is entirely unacceptable,’ they wrote. ‘Despite your confirmation and that of your associate here in Amman, the event you’re organising will not host any Zionists (to be clear we take this stand against all Israeli nationality holders that are non-Arab). We are very vigilant to all cultural events in Amman, and will have our ears to the ground during Mashrou’ Leila, so we urge you to keep your word and promise to keep our event and country Zionist-free.’

‘In two words: racist thugs,’ responds Baddarni, a Palestinian activist himself. ‘This blatantly contradicts the guidelines by the BDS (Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions) movement and deals a near death-blow to the huge efforts they invested to distinguish between ‘institutional’ and ‘individual’ boycotts. Our goal isn’t only overcoming Zionism but also building a future after it.’ Thus, one week later, I am standing in the desert air of the Roman amphitheater, surrounded by the 111 other youths who came along with Baddarni, 29 of whom are Jewish like myself. It has been a long day walking around the city, and I have spent most of it fully wrapped up under the blazing desert sun. I roll up my short sleeves and surrender to Sinno’s magnificent voice.

  

Café Babel, 02.10.2012

Die Tierschutzpartei - one-track-minded?

If there is one thing one cannot call the Partei Mensch Umwelt Tierschutz (Man Environment Animal Protection Party), or, by its catchier name, Die Tierschutzpartei, it is inconsistent. The one-track-minded party seems to have taken shape with one thing, and one thing only in mind: making the planet a friendlier place for animals. The effects of this sort of handling on the human population seem to be, at best, an afterthought.

The party’s program opens, as is to be expected, with a manifesto on the subject of animal suffering at the hands of man, and proceeds to lie out, using all the tools of pathetic rhetoric, the ways in which it fathoms to secure animal rights. But while most people will see, for example, the point of a prohibition of fur or bullfights, the party quickly descends into what can be described as peculiar at best, and loses even the most adamant fur-boycotting reader.

The leitmotif which goes through the program and seems to dictate the entire line of its politics is the move to a vegetarian/vegan lifestyle. Be it health, familiy or energy politics, the solution is one for all: let them eat fruit! And vegetables. But none genetically engineered.
It is not to say that the party has no good ideas. For example, the setting up of prevention departments for domestic violence or help lines for emergency cases for the benefit of the elderly. Or the limitation of school classes to a maximum of 20 pupils. But one has trouble taking such ideas seriously when they come accompanied by suggestions to advocate the "healthy vegetarian nutrition in nursing homes for the elderly".

Unfortunately, when it comes to larger issues, the party seems to be out its sphere altogether. It speaks of fair pension rates, but makes no actual suggestion as to how it plans to achieve them. Its ideas on education and economy revolve again and again around the vegan concept. Of course, there can be nothing wrong with supporting new professions such as ecological cultivator, vegan cook or technician for solar energy. But when it comes from a party which, a few pages earlier, demands to abolish all animal experiments, regardless whether for cosmetic or medical purposes, force the health insurances to carry the costs of alternative medicine and introduce acupuncture in the universities, one cannot avoid a feeling of oppression.

As a sectorial party, the Tierschutzpartei probably adheres quite loyally to its voters’ base. But unless you plan on attending seminars on the benefits of parenting via vegetarianism, you’re probably safer with someone a little less one-track-minded.

Café Babel - Berlin, 10.09.2011