A people’s cartoon history of Gaza
by Paul de Rooij
The cartoonist and author Joe Sacco has a new book, Footnotes in Gaza (1). Sacco’s books are what you might call graphic nonfiction. For this publication, he spent seven years researching two sordid events in November 1956, when Israeli forces invaded Gaza as part of the joint British-French attack against Egypt. Hundreds of Palestinians were murdered by the Israeli army, and Sacco set out to record the oral histories of the Palestinians who were witnesses or victims. He had to investigate to find witnesses who could credibly recollect what happened, sifting through their accounts to eliminate the factual inconsistencies caused by time. Then, for four years, he illustrated them. The book doesn’t only focus on the past; the present is also very much part of his account, a present in Gaza when giant armoured bulldozers flatten houses in Rafah and where the siege affects everybody’s lives. Sacco says: “The past and the present cannot be so easily disentangled; they are part of a remorseless continuum.”
Contemporary history is usually written by academics with access to the main protagonists, usually politicians or military commanders, and to archives and press accounts. This type of history is usually antiseptic and certain; historians don’t question the politicians’ version. It is rare for mainstream historians to listen to victims; their accounts are seldom incorporated into the victor’s history.
The ignored moment
In contrast, Joe Sacco is a fine artist and a people’s historian willing to listen to the victims; his method has sympathy and respect for the victims, their history is worth recording. Sacco, as he often does, focuses on an ignored moment in history. In 2001, he travelled in Gaza with Chris Hedges, a US journalist, to research the 1956 massacres for an article for Harper’s magazine. When the article appeared, the massacres had been editorially expunged. Perhaps that just piqued his interest.
Sacco quotes Abed al-Rantisi, the Hamas leader who was assassinated, saying about the 1956 deaths: “This sort of action can never be forgotten; they planted hatred in our hearts.” To understand the Palestinians it is important to take into account the history that moulded their politics and social currents; this should inform future discussions about possible solutions. It is facile for Shimon Peres, the Israeli president, to urge Palestinians to “look forward” and ignore the past. Negotiations and reconciliation will only be possible if the victims of the Israeli colonial project get a modicum of justice and recognition for their suffering. That will require a South African-style Truth and Reconciliation Commission where the deaths at Deir Yassin, Safad, Jenin 2002, Gaza 2009, as well as Khan Yunis and Rafah 1956, are acknowledged.
Sacco’s images depicting the massacres are haunting. Males older than 15 were herded along a road, beaten, pushed against walls, terrorised with over-the-head gunfire, and then forced through a school entrance where soldiers with large wooden clubs beat them; those who passed had to jump over rolls of barbed wire. Thereafter they were singled out if they were wearing uniforms, if they were betrayed by collaborators, or merely stood out because of their appearance. In Rafah, some of the “wanted” men were taken to a side road and shot or beaten to death; others were loaded on buses and taken to prison in Israel. Sacco’s images are a slightly blurred rendition of history, like the survivors’ memories.
Contemporary reportage usually describes what has happened and then automatically adds an Israeli justification provided by military public relations officers. These include “the men were killed because they were ‘wanted men’”; “the house was demolished because there were militants there”; “the wall is being built for security”; “Gaza was attacked in 2009 to stop the rocket attacks”. Much of the Israeli rationale simply suggests that there was a justification, and so the killing of civilians is deemed “understandable” and, the spokesman will add, the collateral damage – the civilians killed – is regrettable, and unintentional. This is seldom challenged.
Sacco has included Moshe Dayan’s rationale for the 1956 assault on Gaza in his book; absurd when juxtaposed with the victims’ accounts. Sacco provides another Israeli rationale for the massacres: that Israelis purportedly rounded up the Palestinians to root out the fedayeen who were raiding Israel. Sacco quotes Mordechai Bar-On, Moshe Dayan’s right-hand man, to provide this justification. But in the events of 1948 there is a more plausible rationale. Yosef Nahmani, an Israeli witness to the massacre in Safat on 6 November 1948, described how it was conducted, and this is reminiscent of Rafah 1956 (2). In both cases, men were herded down the streets into a corridor where they were beaten with clubs and shot; the 1948 massacre did not require a pretext. Both episodes were to drive people off the land.
What Sacco has done in this book is to rescue the 1956 massacres at Rafah and Khan Yunis from oblivion. Footnotes, the title of his book, refers to the deaths in 1956. Sacco’s detailed research should inspire historians to transform his Footnotes into formal history. The importance of this history is that it puts current events into perspective. What is happening in Gaza didn’t start with the rockets fired at Sderot in 2008. By taking a broader context, Sacco shows the nature of the mass crimes perpetrated against the Palestinian people during many decades. He also shows that, for a people without a future, the past and the present are compressed. The massacres of the past resonate with the everyday violence perpetrated against Palestinians enduring a siege and further dispossession today. Sacco’s work is an act of solidarity with the Palestinians, recording their terrible past and terrible present.
Contemporary history is usually written by academics with access to the main protagonists, usually politicians or military commanders, and to archives and press accounts. This type of history is usually antiseptic and certain; historians don’t question the politicians’ version. It is rare for mainstream historians to listen to victims; their accounts are seldom incorporated into the victor’s history.
The ignored moment
In contrast, Joe Sacco is a fine artist and a people’s historian willing to listen to the victims; his method has sympathy and respect for the victims, their history is worth recording. Sacco, as he often does, focuses on an ignored moment in history. In 2001, he travelled in Gaza with Chris Hedges, a US journalist, to research the 1956 massacres for an article for Harper’s magazine. When the article appeared, the massacres had been editorially expunged. Perhaps that just piqued his interest.
Sacco quotes Abed al-Rantisi, the Hamas leader who was assassinated, saying about the 1956 deaths: “This sort of action can never be forgotten; they planted hatred in our hearts.” To understand the Palestinians it is important to take into account the history that moulded their politics and social currents; this should inform future discussions about possible solutions. It is facile for Shimon Peres, the Israeli president, to urge Palestinians to “look forward” and ignore the past. Negotiations and reconciliation will only be possible if the victims of the Israeli colonial project get a modicum of justice and recognition for their suffering. That will require a South African-style Truth and Reconciliation Commission where the deaths at Deir Yassin, Safad, Jenin 2002, Gaza 2009, as well as Khan Yunis and Rafah 1956, are acknowledged.
Sacco’s images depicting the massacres are haunting. Males older than 15 were herded along a road, beaten, pushed against walls, terrorised with over-the-head gunfire, and then forced through a school entrance where soldiers with large wooden clubs beat them; those who passed had to jump over rolls of barbed wire. Thereafter they were singled out if they were wearing uniforms, if they were betrayed by collaborators, or merely stood out because of their appearance. In Rafah, some of the “wanted” men were taken to a side road and shot or beaten to death; others were loaded on buses and taken to prison in Israel. Sacco’s images are a slightly blurred rendition of history, like the survivors’ memories.
Contemporary reportage usually describes what has happened and then automatically adds an Israeli justification provided by military public relations officers. These include “the men were killed because they were ‘wanted men’”; “the house was demolished because there were militants there”; “the wall is being built for security”; “Gaza was attacked in 2009 to stop the rocket attacks”. Much of the Israeli rationale simply suggests that there was a justification, and so the killing of civilians is deemed “understandable” and, the spokesman will add, the collateral damage – the civilians killed – is regrettable, and unintentional. This is seldom challenged.
Sacco has included Moshe Dayan’s rationale for the 1956 assault on Gaza in his book; absurd when juxtaposed with the victims’ accounts. Sacco provides another Israeli rationale for the massacres: that Israelis purportedly rounded up the Palestinians to root out the fedayeen who were raiding Israel. Sacco quotes Mordechai Bar-On, Moshe Dayan’s right-hand man, to provide this justification. But in the events of 1948 there is a more plausible rationale. Yosef Nahmani, an Israeli witness to the massacre in Safat on 6 November 1948, described how it was conducted, and this is reminiscent of Rafah 1956 (2). In both cases, men were herded down the streets into a corridor where they were beaten with clubs and shot; the 1948 massacre did not require a pretext. Both episodes were to drive people off the land.
What Sacco has done in this book is to rescue the 1956 massacres at Rafah and Khan Yunis from oblivion. Footnotes, the title of his book, refers to the deaths in 1956. Sacco’s detailed research should inspire historians to transform his Footnotes into formal history. The importance of this history is that it puts current events into perspective. What is happening in Gaza didn’t start with the rockets fired at Sderot in 2008. By taking a broader context, Sacco shows the nature of the mass crimes perpetrated against the Palestinian people during many decades. He also shows that, for a people without a future, the past and the present are compressed. The massacres of the past resonate with the everyday violence perpetrated against Palestinians enduring a siege and further dispossession today. Sacco’s work is an act of solidarity with the Palestinians, recording their terrible past and terrible present.
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