The Islamic Movement in Israel 9781477323557

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The Islamic Movement in Israel

the author has received support from the norwegian ­n on-­f iction writers and translators association and the department of culture studies and oriental ­l anguages, the university of oslo.

The Islamic Movement in Israel Tilde Rosmer

University of Texas Press     Austin

Copyright © 2022 by the University of Texas Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America First edition, 2022 Requests for permission to reproduce material from this work should be sent to: Permissions University of Texas Press P.O. Box 7819 Austin, TX ­78713-­7819 utpress.utexas.edu/rp‑form ∞ The paper used in this book meets the minimum requirements of ANSI/ NISO Z39.48‑1992 (R1997) (Permanence of Paper). Library of Congress Cataloging‑in‑Publication Data Names: Rosmer, Tilde, author. Title: The Islamic Movement in Israel / Tilde Rosmer. Description: First edition. | Austin : University of Texas Press, 2022. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021003601 (print) | LCCN 2021003602 (ebook) ISBN 978‑1‑­4773-­2354‑0 (hardcover) ISBN 978‑1‑­4773-­2355‑7 (library ebook) ISBN 978‑1‑­4773-­2356‑4 (­non-­library ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Islamic Movement in I­srael—​­History. | ­Islam—​­Israel—​ ­History. | Palestinian ­Arabs—​­Israel—​­Religion. | ­Israel—​­Ethnic relations. Classification: LCC BP63.I75 R67 2021 (print) | LCC BP63.I75 (ebook) | DDC 297.8/­04—​­dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021003601 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021003602 doi:10.7560/323540

Contents

Note on Translation and Transliteration  vii Acknowledgments  ix Glossary  xiii

introduction. Palestinian Islamists in the Jewish State  1 chapter one. The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel  25  he Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel: chapter two. T Minority Dilemmas in the Jewish State  47 chapter three. A Trifecta of Goals: Religious Sites, Land, and People  92 chapter four. Resisting “Israelization” in Israel  120 chapter five. A  ctivists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens  139 chapter six. New Watersheds: The Joint List and a Ban  167 conclusion. Islamist Palestinian Nationalists Made in Israel  190 Appendix A: Student Survey, 2012  197 Appendix B: Map  201 List of Sources  202 Index  221 v

Note on Translation and Transliteration

T

ransliterations follow the style of the international Journal of Middle East Studies and are provided by Susan Barhoum at Alpha Omega Consultations (aoconsultations@hotmail​ .com). For names of individuals who are not in the Movement, I have used the transliterations they use so that readers may recognize their names.

vii

Acknowledgments

I

n this book about the development of the islamic Movement in Israel, I use a contextualized approach in order to explain how and why the Movement developed in the way that it did. Likewise, the contexts in which the research for, and writing of, this book occurred are important. The principal context of this ethnographic project is, of course, the field. This book is about people, the decisions they took, and the choices they made in response to their predicament. The primary source for the analysis is not ideological treatise or theological text but rather the thoughts and practices of the Islamic Movement’s leaders, activists, and supporters. I must therefore begin by thanking sincerely each of my interviewees. I cannot express in words how much I appreciate the hospitality I have enjoyed, including the many invitations I received to various homes, offices, and favored cafes. Without the support and input of these primary sources, there would have been no book. I shall remain eternally grateful to those who took the time to meet with me and to share their personal stories, as well as their political and religious views during the course of this research. I have endeavored to reflect their ideas accurately in this text and hope that they will recognize this in the pages that follow. The other context for this book is my academic home at the University of Oslo’s Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages. In conducting this research, I was privileged to participate in two research projects hosted by the department: “Fault Lines of Islamism: Negotiating Progress, Participation and Patriarchy” (­2008–­2011) and “The New Middle East: Emerging Political and Ideological Trends” (­2011–­2016). In both projects, the participating researchers investigated a variety of cases throughout the region, focusing on understanding Islamism as a modern social movement for ix

reform and analyzing political and ideological trends in civil society. Writing this book in such an academic context broadened my horizon beyond the specificities of my own case study and added a regional framework in which to situate my research. There is no doubt that this book is stronger as a result. There are so many people to thank, but I must start with professor Bjorn Olav Utvik, who headed both of the ­above-­mentioned research projects and was my PhD supervisor. My thanks are due to him for supporting me throughout my academic career and for pushing me to start this book project. Having a mentor like Bjorn Olav has been invaluable to my career development, and I am deeply appreciative of all of the support provided throughout the years! Each of my colleagues from these two research projects also deserves special mention, including (in alphabetical order) Albrecht Hofheinz, Brynjar Lia, Dag Tuastad, Jacob Hoigilt, Jon Nordenson, Kai Kverme, Pinar Tank, and Truls Tonnesen. In addition to the academic rigor and insight they brought to these projects, having such sociable colleagues has made our trips to the region very enjoyable. I thank them for the good times and the camaraderie! I must extend special thanks to my excellent research assistants, Ghousoon Bisharat, Manar Makhoul, and Azar Dakwar, each of whom made this project not only possible but also more fun and engaging with their critical comments and different perspectives. I must also thank the many friends, colleagues, associates, and contacts who gave so generously of their time in helping me to conduct this research, including by making introductions, setting up meetings, and otherwise opening doors to possibility. In particular, I must thank Yoni Mendel for his help at the very initial stage of this project; the indefatigable staff of Adalah, and especially Rina Rosenberg, for her continued support; and the inspirational staff and volunteers at HILA (the Israel Committee for Equality in Education), not least my dear friend Yehouda Amichai. Each of these people has been an inspiration to me in more ways than they could know. A heartfelt mention goes to Tikva Levi, whom I got to know as HILA’s tireless director and who became a dear friend. Tikva’s untimely passing is a loss I cannot express in words. I am very grateful to my reviewers for giving their time and providing constructive comments that have helped me in the process of putting this manuscript ­together—​­and to the staff at the University of Texas Press for their patience! I must also thank the Norwegian ­Non-­Fiction Writers and Translators Association for its generous support for this project. And Susan Barhoum x  | Acknowledgments

must be thanked for her excellent translation services. Needless to say, any errors in the final text are entirely my own. Last, but not least: thank you to my patient husband and our children for enduring all of the time that I spent away on fieldwork or at my desk while working on this project over the years.

xi  | Acknowledgments

Glossary

al‑Ḥaraka al‑Islāmiyya fi Isrāīl/The Islamic Movement in Israel al‑Ḥizb al‑Dimuqraṭi al‑ʿArabī/Political party known as the Arab Democratic Party, in Hebrew Miflaga Demokratit Aravit (shortened to Ma’da) al‑Jabha al‑Dimuqraṭiyya lissalām walmusawā/Political party known as the Democratic Front for Peace and Equality (Hebrew acronym HaDaSh) al‑Kalām/The pupil and student organization of the Southern Branch of the Islamic Movement al‑Qāima al‑Mushtaraka/Knesset list composed of all political parties representing Palestinian citizens of Israel, known as the Joint List al‑Risāla/The pupil and student organization of the Islamic Movement before the split in 1996 al‑Tajamuʿ al‑Waṭanī al‑Dimuqraṭi/Political party known as the National Democratic Assembly (Hebrew acronym Balad) daʿwa/Islamic religious advocacy Eqraa/The pupil and student organization of the Northern Branch of the Islamic Movement (‫ اقرأ‬could have been transliterated as Īqrʾ, but I use the version used by the organization ­itself—​­Eqraa) ḥamula/clan Nakba/The “Catastrophe”; the phrase used to describe the 1948 war and its consequences sharīʿa/The Islamic codified law Ūsrat al‑Jihād/The Family of Jihad, the first Islamist organization in Israel Waqf/The communal land and properties of the Muslim community Zakāat/Charity obligation for Muslims, representing one of the five pillars of Islam

xiii

The Islamic Movement in Israel

Introduction p a l esti ni an i sl am i sts i n the je w ish sta te

I

n 2006, i was on the ­f emale-­s egregated side of a large football stadium in Um al‑Faḥim surrounded by tens of thousands of Palestinians from all over Israel who had gathered to welcome Shaykh Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, the leader of the Northern Branch of the Islamic Movement, as he returned home following his release from prison. The crowd encompassed all ages and, seemingly, an array of lifestyles. The atmosphere was ecstatic. To me it felt like a pop concert, but in place of a band was a tall leader who somehow projected an air of being both humble and imposing simultaneously. On the stage with him were secular politicians and Christian religious leaders representing the diversity of the Palestinian community inside Israel. My own group was made up of Palestinians working in the human rights NGO sector, including lawyers from Adalah (the Legal Center for Arab Minority Rights in Israel), some of whom, to my puzzlement, were also active in the Islamic Movement. Thus far, my interactions with Palestinian citizens of Israel had been mainly with individuals from this sector and with parent activists working with the Israel Committee for Equality in Education (HILA) who were engaged in activism seeking equal rights to educational resources for their children. That evening, I was struck by the appeal of this Islamist leader and the reception given to him by Palestinians across ­religio-­secular and political divides. The event afforded me a small glimpse into an important component of the Palestinian community in Israel that I knew little about, despite having studied Israeli society and lived there for research purposes on 1

and off for several years. At the same time, I recognized the potent mixture of fervor, protest, and communitarian togetherness connecting the audience from an event I had attended six years prior and at which I was also an observer: the tent protest set up by supporters of the Jewish religious ­party-­movement Shas, in front of the prison in Ramle where their leader, Aryeh Deri, was imprisoned in 2000. To the uninitiated, “The Islamic Movement in Israel”—​­al‑Ḥaraka al‑Islāmiyya fi ­Isrāīl—​­may sound like an oxymoron. Nevertheless, it exists, has thousands of followers across Israel, participates in local and national elections, and is the largest grassroots movement among Israel’s Palestinian citizens. Since its establishment in the 1970s, the Islamic Movement has grown from a small, religious, g­ rassroots-­oriented organization focused on strengthening the faith and observance of Muslim individuals and the community at large to a countrywide, Islamist, sociopolitical movement. Its trifecta of goals focuses on protection of the Palestinian people, land, and religious sites, mainly in Israel and occupied East Jerusalem. Gradually, the Movement has built a network of religious and social institutions across Israel, catering to the needs of its constituency. Through its steadily growing network of s­elf-­reliant institutions, the Islamic Movement quickly grew into a local political power center, and from the ­mid-­1980s it began to participate in local elections. It has since run various municipalities and seen some members gain power in several local authorities. The Movement split in 1996 due to a disagreement over whether or not to stand for national elections to Israel’s parliament (the Knesset). Since 1996, there have been two branches broadly referred to as “the Movement,” each named after their respective leader. One branch was, until 2015, led by Shaykh Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ and was commonly referred to as the Northern Branch. The other branch is led by Shaykh Abu Daʿābis at present (and was formerly led by Shaykh Darwīsh and Shaykh Ṣarṣur). This branch of the Movement is commonly referred to as the Southern Branch. From 1996 to 2015, the two branches have operated as parallel mirror organizations, each of which offered religious, social, and educational services and assistance to Palestinian citizens of Israel across the country. The split naturally caused tension within the community, as well as competition for supporters and funding. From 1996 onward, the Southern Branch has participated in national elections and has had representatives in the Knesset on al‑Qāʾima al‑ʿarabiyya al‑Muwaḥada (the United Arab List, known by its Hebrew acronym Ra’am 2  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

[Reshima Aravit Me’uhedet]), a joint parliamentary list with other parties who also represent Palestinian citizens of Israel. Of the 120 members of the Knesset, the United Arab List secured four seats in 1996; five seats in 1999; two seats in 2003; and four seats in 2006, 2009, and 2013 (Knesset website). It was the largest list representing Arab Palestinians in the Knesset from 2009 until the March 2015 elections. In 2014, four parties with a predominantly Palestinian leadership and support base created a new ­list—​­al‑Qāima al‑Mushtaraka (the Joint List; in Hebrew, HaReshima HaMeshutefet). Thus, the Joint List includes many ideological currents and is unified only by the centralizing force of ethnic minority identity and status. The Joint List secured thirteen seats in both the 2015 and September 2019 elections and fifteen seats in the March 2020 elections, making it the ­third-­largest list in the Knesset at the time of writing. The Northern Branch participated in local elections in Um al‑Faḥim until 2013. This branch fell under increasing pressure from the government, and its leader, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, has been convicted in Israeli courts on several occasions, including for connections with Ḥarakat al‑Muqawama al‑Īslāmiyya (the Islamic Resistance Movement, whose acronym in Arabic is Ḥamās), inciting violence, and spitting at a police officer. Shaykh Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, as he is widely known, has also received travel bans on several occasions. The offices of this branch have been searched and ransacked by state authorities on multiple occasions. Finally, in November 2015, the government outlawed the Northern Branch, claiming that its leadership incited violence and maintained ties to Ḥamās. Despite lacking membership statistics or other ways to assess numbers of supporters, and notwithstanding the outlawing of the Northern Branch in 2015, it is fair to estimate that the Islamic Movement remains the largest ­religio-­political movement among the Palestinian minority in Israel. In fact, there is no competing religious movement among Palestinian citizens, whether in the Muslim, Christian, or Druze communities. As for the balance between the two branches, according to academic sources, prior to its forced dissolution the Northern Branch was the most popular (Smooha 2010) and was in many people’s minds synonymous with the Islamic Movement at large, enjoying the support of approximately 57 percent of Palestinians in Israel (Ali 2015b). The popularity of the Islamic Movement is evident from both its performance in local and national elections and from the large numbers who have participated in events arranged by both branches of the Movement. To illustrate, over the years tens of thousands of supporters have been reported by the media as participating in the annual event al‑Āqṣā fi khaṭar (“al‑Āqṣā 3  | Introduction

Is in Danger”), which was held between 1995 and 2015 in Um al‑Faḥim (Ha’aretz staff 2004; Levine 2009; ­Roffe-­Ofir 2010; Shaalan 2013). The event focused on the perceived threats to al‑Āqṣā mosque, the ­third-­holiest site in Islam to which Muslims initially directed their prayers. Because this mosque is located in occupied East Jerusalem, it has multiple levels of meaning to Palestinians in Israel: in addition to its status as a holy site, Jerusalem symbolizes both Palestinian nationalist aspirations for independence and ­self-­determination and also Israel’s successful obstruction of this agenda through its continued occupation of Palestinian territory. Holding Israeli citizenship puts these Palestinians in a special position because they have access to the site, which most Palestinians (those living under Israeli occupation in the occupied Palestinian territory, beyond East Jerusalem, and those living in the diaspora), as well as most Muslims worldwide, do not enjoy. This positions the Movement at one of the religious centers of the world and bestows its activism with both regional and global relevance. Another indication of the Movement’s popularity is the success of the student movements associated with the Northern Branch, which have won elections to the Arab Student Councils at several Israeli university campuses between 2008 and 2015. This is especially significant because it is widely acknowledged that “the Palestinian student body on Israeli campuses is a microcosm representing future trends in the Palestinian community” (Rabinowitz and Abu Baker 2005, 125; see also chapter 5).

a contextualized approach This is the first book about the Islamic Movement in Israel in English. The main objective is to introduce readers to the history, development, and praxis of the Movement. It traces the development of the Movement from its establishment in 1983 to 2020, with a particular focus on the years ­2008–­2015. This Islamist ­religio-­sociopolitical movement by and for Palestinian citizens of Israel is analyzed here contextually, focusing on the interrelation between the two main points of reference for the development of the Movement: the Israeli state and society in which it operates, and the Islamist ideology that likewise informs its methodology. The Israeli context provides certain possibilities and also certain limitations, and the Islamist approach provides a distinct lifestyle and vision, as well as a methodological and ideological framework. This analysis aims to explain how the leaders and activists of the Movement take advantage of the 4  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

possibilities and navigate the limitations provided by their context, as well as to clarify how they interpret and instrumentalize Islamist theory and practice in pursuit of their aims. Through a critical examination of the agenda and praxis of the Islamic Movement’s countrywide network of religious and social organizations, this book examines the ideas and the identity transmitted through these institutions and organizations. By investigating the Movement’s social and political praxis, this study introduces its changing relationship with the Israeli state and society, including other groups and parties who seek to represent the interests of Palestinian citizens of Israel. According to Keddie, there were three watershed years that shaped the political religious history of the Middle East in the twentieth century: 1928, which marked the establishment of the Jamāʿat al‑Ikhwān al‑Muslimīn, the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt; 1967, when Israel defeated the Arab states and occupied the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, bringing an end to the ascent of ­pan-­Arabism and Arab nationalism; and the 1979 Iranian Revolution (Keddie 1998). For the Islamic Movement in Israel, I would add four other significant events, each of which is specific to its context: the War of 1948, known to Palestinians as the Nakba (Catastrophe), which saw the establishment of the State of Israel and the displacement of most Palestinians from their homeland; 1983, when the Islamic Movement in Israel was established; 1996, when the Islamic Movement split over parliamentary participation and when its Southern Branch entered the Knesset; and 2015, when the Northern Branch was outlawed and the Southern Branch became one of the founding parties standing for Knesset elections on the Joint List. These events will be covered in the following chapters in chronological order.

ideological and methodological context: islamism As Ayubi puts it: “More than anything else the general Islamic resurgence represents a reaction to alienation and a quest for authenticity. . . . For those resisting foreign dominance (political and/or cultural), Islam can provide a medium of cultural nationalism that is both defiant and s­ elf-­assuring” (Ayubi 1994, 217). Ayubi explains that Islamists want a “cultural revolution” inspired by the Divine Word and that “Islam can therefore serve as an effective weapon against the ‘cultural dependency’ that often results from the Westernization policies passed off by various Middle Eastern rulers as developmental 5  | Introduction

policies” (Ayubi 1994, 2­ 17–­218). In the case of the Palestinian Islamists in Israel, the rulers are the successive governments of the Jewish Israeli state that to many Palestinians represents a form of domination (Westernization through Israelization). In the case of the Islamic Movement, Islamism is not only an ideology and methodology for cultural advancement and renewal but also a variant of a Palestinian political nationalism. Therefore, I propose to describe the Islamists in Israel as Islamist Palestinian nationalists: they are fighting for their rights as a Palestinian national minority group while employing an Islamist approach and methodology. This is evident in their trifecta of goals: to protect the Palestinian people, land, and holy sites from the foreign Jewish state. It is also evident in what the Movement describes as their “circles of belonging,” consisting of three related identification processes: Arabization, Palestinization, and Islamization, which represent a localized form of resistance to Westernization (i.e., “Israelization”). By introducing the facts and contextualized development that have made the Movement what it is today, this study adds to the larger study of regional Islamist movements, which has generally overlooked this particular Islamist movement (al‑Atawneh and Hatina 2019, 111). Based on this case of political Islam, we see how the political and ideological development of this Islamic, religiously inspired movement is reflective of the political and social contexts in which it has developed and to which it has modified its goals and methodology. In accordance with the approach advocated by Asad, this study seeks to avoid the essentialization or disintegration of “Islam” and treats this religion as a discursive tradition that links the past, present, and future in various ways, and not as “a distinct social structure nor a heterogenous collection of beliefs, artifacts, customs and morals” (Asad 1986, 14). As such, this study also follows the advice of ­Abu-­Lughod to study “the interplay between . . . ​everyday practices and discourses and the religious texts they invoke, the histories of which they are part, and the political enterprises of which they partake” (­Abu-­Lughod 1989). At the outset, it is important to differentiate the Islamist Movement in Israel from Ḥamās, the most popular Islamist movement in the occupied Palestinian territory. They are not the same movement; nor do they represent the same Palestinian population. Israeli spokespersons do sometimes conflate Ḥamās and the Islamic Movement in Israel in an attempt to delegitimize the latter, as the Israeli government has been successful in persuading many other states to categorize Ḥamās as a proscribed terrorist organization. The suggestion that the Islamic Movement in Israel has ties with Ḥamās in the occupied Palestinian territory is used by Israeli authorities to legitimize police raids on the offices of both branches of the Movement; confiscation of their property; as well as scrutinization, censorship, and sometimes the 6  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

forced closure of newspapers and publications. In 2015, it was also part of the reasoning behind the government’s decision to outlaw the Northern Branch. In comparative terms, Ḥamās and the Islamic Movement in Israel share Islamist ideology and a Palestinian nationalist perspective. In addition, the two movements were established in the same decade and operate in close geographic proximity. However, there are significant differences between each. First, Ḥamās operates under Israeli military occupation, whereas the Islamic Movement operates as an organization representing the interests of citizens of the State of Israel. Second, Ḥamās has adopted armed struggle in its resistance to the occupation, whereas the Islamic Movement in Israel purposely avoids violence. When Ḥamās was established in December 1987, it was with the expressed priority to confront the Israeli occupation by ­Palestinian ­leaders of the Muslim Brotherhood ( Jensen 2009). Its establishment, coinciding with the start of the (first) Intifada (Uprising) in the late 1980s, can be considered “an auxiliary causal factor for [the] popular rebellion” (Hroub 2002, 36). Relations with Ḥamās will discussed in chapter 2. The Islamic Movement in Israel has modeled its nonviolent activism on the example of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, the first such movement and whose establishment dates to 1928. The Muslim Brotherhood has historically pursued nonviolent actions and, prior to its outlawing in Egypt in 2014, participated (directly or indirectly) in elections while also building a mass movement with the aim of spreading a certain Islamic lifestyle and improving the socioeconomic status of its community. Like the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood movement, the Islamic Movement in Israel can be described as a modernizing force among Muslim Palestinians in Israel. Whereas Islamism is often portrayed as a reaction against, or at best a belated accommodation to, modernization, Utvik has demonstrated that the Egyptian movement promoted modernization by studying its engagement with social and economic change in Egypt (Utvik 2006). In the case of the Islamic Movement in Israel, modernization is reflected in the Movement’s efforts to mobilize its constituency to participate in local and ­state-­level elections and in its provision of an alternative identity that relates to both historic context and the current predicament. The Islamic Movement in Israel empowers its constituency as individuals and, more significantly, as a community by basing political mobilization on a shared ideology and lifestyle and in opposition to traditional family and ­clan-­based politics. Also similar to the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, the Islamic Movement in Israel’s approach is to provide social services under an Islamic umbrella, through which it provides its community with a “comprehensive system that encompasses all things material, spiritual, social, individual, political and personal” (Clark 2004, 14). Using a social movement theory approach, 7  | Introduction

Clark argues that the success of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood lies in its Islamic social institutions and the services these offer, combined with the associational networks of horizontal social ties that this system creates. In addition to these services and networks, the Islamic Movement in Israel also offers a source of motivation beyond the material. This positive motivation takes the form of Islamic ideas that are encapsulated in the concept of daʿwa. Daʿwa is the call or invitation to God that is based on the Prophet Muḥamad’s outreach to the polytheists in Mecca and that, over the centuries, has been approached in diverse ways in various places and at different times. According to Wickham, for the modern Islamists, daʿwa is the “new activist interpretation of the Islamic faith” (Wickham 2002, 15). Based on this interpretation, Wickham analyzed how Islamists in Egypt created a parallel Islamic sector that operates mosques independent of state authorities; Islamic volunteer associations and organizations; and ­Islamic-­style business models (Wickham 2002, 94–97). Most research on Islam and Muslims in Israel has focused on political empowerment and has either ignored or paid little attention to communal activities and the religious activism of daʿwa through fieldwork methodology (al‑Atawneh and Hatina 2019). This study aims to begin to address these gaps by conducting ethnographic research on such activities in relation to their political, social, and religious motivations. The Islamic Movement in Israel’s activities are here studied in a similar manner to the way in which Starrett studied religious education in Egypt, using an approach that “focused largely on what it is that adults want and expect children to know and believe” (Starrett 1998, xii). The aim here is to understand what it is that the leadership of the Islamic Movement’s associations and organizations want their supporters to learn and practice, as well as why; and to understand the logic behind their focus and approach. Additionally, this study aims to understand how the approach of the Movement’s leadership is related to the Movement’s goals and what methods are applied to reach their community. Academic publications published to date in English on the Islamic Movement in Israel have focused on specific and different political issues, including (in chronological order) the type of “fundamentalist threat” that the Islamic Movement in Israel poses to the Israeli state and society (Israeli 1999); the Movement’s stance on the ­Israeli-­Palestinian conflict (Amara 1996; Asʻad Ghanem 2001, chap. 6; Ali 2004); the Movement’s split in 1996 (Rekhess 1996; Aburaiya 2004; Rayan 2012); the Movement’s struggle over al‑Quds/ Jerusalem (Dumper and Larkin 2012); the state’s relationship with the Northern Branch (Pascovich 2013); and the Movement as a populist undertaking as assessed using deradicalization theory (As’ad Ghanem and Mustafa 2014). 8  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

The present study draws on, and also critiques some of, this prior scholarship. In particular, much of the prior work employs terminology such as “radicalism” and “moderation” to describe the Northern and Southern Branches of the Movement respectively, a juxtaposition that is advanced and exacerbated by Israeli media produced in Hebrew and English. Indeed, even when Islamist groups operating outside the Israeli context are studied in many, or most, cases, the suitability of the “moderate” and “radical” categories is determined by the threat that an Islamist group is adjudged to pose. The question is: To whom and how is any Islamist group considered to be a threat? Schwedler posed this question in the American context, stating that “public engagement is a vital part of the academic mission, but has our need to constantly reiterate in public that all Muslims are not Islamists and that most Islamists are moderate constrained our scholarly analyses by forcing us to retreat into the language of moderates and radicals?” (Schwedler 2015). The utility of the moderate versus radical categories to describe Islamist groups is still debated and, I argue, outdated. Significantly, there is no ­agreed-­upon definition of these categories that can be measured, and therefore their content remains empty for the individual writer and/or reader to construct, potentially leading to more confusion rather than understanding. Are moderates defined by their acceptance of the democratic mechanism? By acceptance of liberal rights, including a rejection of ethnically based politics? By their rejection of violence? By adhering to some, or all, of these criteria? Additionally, in the case of the Islamic Movement in Israel, one needs to question whether this terminology is applied to describe differences between the two branches of this Islamist movement in terms of their interpretation of “Islamist” through the nature of their praxis, or in terms of their relationship with the Israeli state and society, always bearing in mind that both branches represent a national minority community that faces an array of challenges by virtue of the discrimination policies that are practiced by the state established on its homeland to support another ­ethno-­national group. Instead of using this polarizing and reductionist terminology, I suggest using terminology that seeks to describe accurately the actions of these two branches by identifying points of convergence where appropriate. I insist that both branches have been demonstrably pragmatic in their relationship with the Jewish state, as both have made compromises on the ideological and methodological planes in order to exist as expressions of an Islamist movement while operating within a ­Jewish-­Zionist state and society. The Southern Branch can further be described as “integrationist” in its relationship with the state, whereas the Northern Branch can be described as “isolationist” in this perspective. 9  | Introduction

The following analysis takes as its point of departure the Movement, its activists, and their actions, each of which is analyzed by utilizing the diverse theoretical approaches introduced above as well as others, in accordance with the issues under discussion. This toolbox methodology is necessary to analyze effectively a movement that, as will become clear, has developed organically in response to its political context and, significantly, not in a singular way, as its split in 1996 demonstrates. Although the Islamic Movement in Israel employs, to a large extent, the same methodology as other Islamist movements in the form of advocacy that is enshrined in the practice of daʿwa and Islamization from below anchored in local activism and initiatives, this Islamist Movement differs from other regional movements, such as the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, because of the specific ­non-­Muslim context in which its community of indigenous Sunni Muslims constitutes a national minority (together with Christian and Druze fellow Palestinians). In order to fully comprehend the rationale behind the actions of any Islamist movement, context is key: “The context is almost the only plausible explanation for the political, social and militant behaviour of the Muslim Brotherhood or any other Islamist group” (Hroub 2019, 30). The treatment that any sociopolitical movement receives from the government under whose rule it operates will necessarily influence its development in terms of behavior and ­outlook—​­whether such treatment entails exposure to oppressive measures, including imprisonment and outlawing, or acceptance as a legitimate political and social representative group and voice. This is true for the Islamic Movement in Israel, just as it is true for any other sociopolitical movement in any other country.

sociopolitical context: palestinian citizens of israel The phrase “Palestinian citizens” reflects the ­self-­identification of the majority of this national minority since the 1990s and as such is the terminology I shall be using throughout this text. This group is often called “Israeli Arabs” or “Arab Israeli” by other academics writing in English. Both this terminology and the recent history of those it describes began with the establishment of the State of Israel after the end of the ­Israeli-­Arab War of 1948, when more than seven hundred thousand ­non-­Jewish Palestinian Arabs, or ­seven-­eighths of the inhabitants of the territory that fell under the control of the State of Israel after the war, were expelled or fled (Morris 1989). Approximately one hundred fifty thousand Palestinians remained in the new state, and today, according to the Israeli Bureau of Statistics, 21.1 10  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

percent of Israel’s population is comprised of these “Arabs,” 73.9 percent are classified as “Jews,” and 5 percent are classified as “other” (“­non-­Arab Christians and persons not classified by religion in the Population Register”) (Central Bureau of Statistics, Israel 2020). These statistics exclude the three hundred fifty thousand Palestinians who reside in occupied East Jerusalem who generally have the status of “residents” but do not hold Israeli citizenship (B’Tselem 2017). At present, Muslim Palestinians make up approximately 83 percent of the 1.9 million Palestinian citizens of Israel; the rest are Christians, approximately 9 percent, and Druze, approximately 7 percent (Central Bureau of Statistics, Israel 2020a). The overwhelming majority of Palestinian Muslims are Sunni. In his seminal 1980 study, Lustick described the predicament of the Pales­ tinians who remained within the State of Israel in 1948 as the “instant minority” whose lives were in “complete disarray”: Fragmented along geographical, religious, and familial lines, it was entirely devoid of leadership above the municipal level. . . . Their economic situation was desperate; their immediate concerns were the integrity of their property and the safety and unification of their families. (Lustick 1980, 51)

Until 1966, all Palestinians in Israel lived under military government, conditions that permitted more of their land to be confiscated and expropriated and their freedom of movement and economic opportunities to be severely restricted (see chapter 1). This rule, in essence, gave the “state total control over all aspects of Arab life” (Peleg and Waxman 2011, 141). Of the total 150,000 Palestinians in the state, less than half were granted citizenship in 1948, while the rest had to wait to meet certain conditions as stipulated in the Citizenship Law of 1952, and some were not granted citizenship before this law was amended in 1980 (Shafir and Peled 2002, 111). The inferior position of these n ­ on-­Jewish citizens of the Jewish state is well documented, in particular with regard to the continuous appropriation of their land, economic disadvantages, discrepancies in health and the provision of health care and in the education system, as well as unequal political representation. Each of these issues will be addressed in the following chapters. Palestinian citizens have been described as ­second-­class citizens in academic and other literature for many years. In 2003, the United Nations Committee on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights report described the “discriminatory attitude” of the Jewish state toward its Arab Palestinian citizens, concluding that “the Committee expresses its concern that the State 11  | Introduction

party’s domestic legal order does not enshrine the general principles of equality and ­non-­discrimination” (UN Committee on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights 2003). In 2011, an academic study on the predicament of Palestinians in Israel concluded that “the status of Arabs in different areas clearly shows that there is a great deal of inequality between Jews and Arabs in almost every respect. Put simply, Arabs are ­second-­class citizens” (Peleg and Waxman 2011, 21). More recently, in 2021, the Israeli human rights NGO B’Tselem issued a report (titled “A Regime of Jewish Supremacy from the Jordan River to the Mediterranean Sea: This Is Apartheid”) analyzing “how the Israeli regime works to advance its goals in the entire area under its control” (B’Tselem 2021). The report contends: In the entire area between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River, the Israeli regime implements laws, practices and state violence designed to cement the supremacy of one ­group—​­Jews—​ ­over ­another—​­Palestinians. A key method in pursuing this goal is engineering space differently for each group. Jewish citizens live as though the entire area were a single space (excluding the Gaza Strip). The Green Line means next to nothing for them: whether they live west of it, within Israel’s sovereign territory, or east of it, in settlements not formally annexed to Israel, is irrelevant to their rights or status. Where Palestinians live, on the other hand, is crucial. The Israeli regime has divided the area into several units that it defines and governs differently, according Palestinians different rights in each. (B’Tselem 2021)

In this system, B’Tselem describes the predicament of Palestinian citizens as affording them “many rights, [but] they do not enjoy the same rights as Jewish citizens by either law or practice,” concluding that “all Palestinians living under Israeli rule are treated as inferior in rights and status to Jews who live in the very same area” (B’Tselem 2021). Palestinian citizens are to this day viewed with suspicion by both the state and by the majority of Jewish Israeli society. The perception by Jewish Israelis of Palestinians who remained in Israel after 1948 is that they form “a potential fifth column, a Trojan horse, and often simply enemies of the state” ( Jabareen 2005, 105). Accordingly, “Arab citizens’ demographic growth, economic strength, land ownership, and even educational and academic achievements are by and large considered an existential threat to the ‘public’ (read Jewish) good” (Rouhana 2006, 65). 12  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Palestinian citizens of Israel formally enjoy certain civil and political rights as individuals, but they are excluded from equal membership in the political community as ­non-­Jewish citizens. Consequently, they are “more or less secure in the exercise of their individual rights, as long as these rights do not conflict with the national goals of the Jewish majority” (Shafir and Peled 2002, 111). According to the Inequality Report, a document published in 2011 by Adalah, the Legal Center for Arab Minority Rights in Israel, Palestinian Arab citizens of Israel are “marginalised and discriminated against by the state on the basis of their national belonging and religious affiliations as ­non-­Jews” (Adalah 2011, 4). The Inequality Report specifies that “direct and indirect discrimination against Palestinian citizens of Israel is ingrained in the legal system and in governmental practice” (Adalah 2011, 7). By way of example, the Inequality Report notes that the Law of Return and the Citizenship Law privilege Jews and Jewish immigration; Palestinian citizens are by law deprived of access to and use of land; and the state provides three times as much funding to Jewish schools when compared to Arab schools. Since the Jewish ­Nation-­State Law was introduced in 2018, Palestinian citizens’ status in Israel has been further formally diminished and marginalized. According to this law, the State of Israel is officially “the national home of the Jewish people,” and “the right to exercise national ­self-­determination in the State of Israel is unique to the Jewish people” (Wootliff 2018). Debates among Palestinian citizens concerning the quality and validity of Israeli democracy have been especially prominent since the 1990s, when spokespeople for this minority changed the focus of their critical comments from “protesting unequal resource allocations by the state to protesting the nature of the state itself” (Peleg and Waxman 2011, 6­ 0–­61). Their main complaint was simple: Israel is an ethnic state and not a democratic state, and its claim to be democratic amounted to a s­ elf-­serving lie (Rouhana 1997; Jamal 2007). Instead of demanding equal access to state resources, many Palestinian politicians in Israel from then on demanded a “state for all its citizens” (Rouhana 1999, 66). The implications of this change in approach were that, in addition to the protest and critique of the discrimination they face in the distribution of state resources as ­non-­Jewish citizens, Palestinian citizens were now demanding equal treatment in terms of the individual civil and group rights they are afforded by the state. As the Palestinians in Israel began to rearticulate their predicament as a national minority and as an indigenous community, they began insisting on their group and historical rights and demanding cultural autonomy. To date, the Islamic Movement is the Palestinian organization in Israel that has provided its constituency with the broadest and most successful autonomous 13  | Introduction

system of cultural, educational, social, and religious services (see chapters 3 and 5). In 1992, Israel enacted the Basic Law, which defined Israel’s values as those of a “Jewish and democratic state.” Much debate about Israel’s political system in Israeli academia has focused on whether Israel qualifies as a democracy, as well as on how best to define and describe the system of government it exercises. Smooha defined Israel as an “ethnic democracy” wherein rights are not equally distributed but are related to the ethnicity of the individual (Smooha 1990, 2002). In this formulation, Israel is not a liberal democracy, which would be ethnically neutral, but a compromised democracy that actively and openly works to advance the interests of the ethnic Jewish group. Nevertheless, according to Smooha, Israel does qualify as a democracy because it meets the basic requirements for democratic procedures and respects the rights of individuals. Rouhana has described Israel as “an ethnic (indeed in some ways a theocratic) state, [that] is a democracy for only one segment of its citizens,” adding that “even such a limited application of democracy is fraught with problems” (Rouhana 1999, 65). He emphasizes that in the last analysis, whether or not Israel’s claim to be “democratic” has any validity depends largely on its relations with its Arab minority. It is true that democracy has much to do with rule by the majority, and it is true that Israeli practices and policies are “voted” by majority. But democracy cannot be limited to the procedural realm only. Furthermore, in the case of two national groups cohabiting in the same state, even procedural democracy cannot be reduced to rule by the ethnic majority, because such rule provides the national group having the numerical majority with the means to become a tyrannical majority. (Rouhana 1999, 70)

Yiftachel defines the Israeli state as an “ethnocracy,” which he describes as a system that “focuses on three major ­political-­historical processes: (a) the formation of a (colonial) settler society; (b) the mobilizing power of ­ethno-­nationalism; and (c) the ‘ethnic logic’ of capital. . . . This political system also typically results in the creation of stratified ­ethno-­classes within each nation” (Yiftachel 1999). Peleg describes the Israeli regime as an “Ethnic Constitutional Order” in which there is an illusion of civic nationalism but that, in practice, is illiberal and discriminatory as it grants full dominance to a single group within the state (Peleg 2007). He identifies the most crucial issue for Israel as the continuous struggle over the essence of the state (Peleg 2007, 178). Peleg argues 14  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

that both the challenges and potential change to this “flawed democracy” must come from, or in conversation with, the Palestinian minority. Rouhana would describe this suggestion as the “burden of the underprivileged,” noting that “it may be too much to ask the privileged, even those on the left of the political spectrum, to challenge a system that supports their own privileges and dominance” (Rouhana 1999, 71). Writing in 1999, he observed that “any form of ­resistance—​­civil demonstrations, democratic political programs, insistence on equality, and even intellectual activity that defies ethnic dominance and ethnic ­privileges—​­qualifies for the ‘extremism’ label by the majority and consequently is dismissed and delegitimized” (Rouhana 1999, 71). This is not a study of Israel’s political system, but as this constitutes the context in which the Movement under study operates, it is necessary to acknowledge a unifying principle in each of the above analyses, namely, the tension between the ethnonationalist and democratic values of the State of Israel. This tension is inescapable to all Palestinian citizens, but especially to those who are politically active. It is within the boundaries of the opportunities and limitations of this political system that the Islamic Movement of Israel has developed and is conducting its activism. The leaders of both branches of the Movement are prominent critics of Israel’s claims that it practices democracy. This will be discussed further in the following chapters. According to one analysis, before the outlawing of the Northern Branch, the state’s reaction to the challenge the Islamic Movement posed fluctuated between limited inclusion and marginalization, this “policy” has enabled “­non-­welcome factors” (as the Northern Branch is perceived by the authorities) a certain political freedom and ­socio-­ political unionization, so long as it did not interfere with the basic configuration of state institutions. When it did, Israel’s policy reverted to marginalization, including pressure by the political and legal system against the “rebellious factors.” (Pascovich 2013, 148)

The Movement has been allowed to operate as a party, and the state has not formulated an official or overarching policy toward it, but it has maintained its focus on “security concerns” related to the assumed threats the Movement might pose (Rubin 2014). In this context of the Jewish state, all politically active Palestinian citizens face the dilemma of how to act to improve their ­situation—​­from inside existing Israeli state and society institutions or from outside these institutions? Whereas the Southern Branch decided to participate in national elections to 15  | Introduction

give voice to the concerns and grievances of their constituency within Israel’s national parliament, the Northern Branch opted to limit its participation to local elections until 2013, after which it declined to participate in any election until it was outlawed in 2015.

sources and methodology This study is based primarily on fieldwork material collected between 2008 and 2015. The empirical material consists mainly of interviews and observations, as well as printed and digital written material from the Movement, supplemented by related sources, including websites and newspapers ­published in Arabic, English, and Hebrew. The majority of the primary sources for this study are interviews with leaders and activists within the Movement. The ethnographic material was collected in Israel between 2008 and 2013 and includes written sources from the Movement, such as official websites and the Movement’s student organizations’ websites and other publications. The study also relies on a survey of fi ­ fty-­three Islamic Movement student activists conducted in January 2012 (Rosmer 2012b). I spent in total eight months in the field, including July 2008, ­January–­May 2009, two weeks in May 2010, two weeks in November 2010, two weeks in January 2012, and one week in November 2013. In addition, I met with representatives of the Northern Branch in London in the summer of 2011 and conducted follow‑up interviews and discussions over the phone and via the internet until 2021, as well as in email correspondence. This study is focused on Palestinian citizens in the so‑called Triangle Area that stretches from Um al‑Faḥim in the north to Kafr Qasim in the south and therefore does not include interviews with or observations of events in the Naqab/Negev area, where the Movement is also active and has a substantial following. The predicament of the population in that area is discussed in chapter 3 when analyzing activities of the Movement pertaining to the unrecognized villages and Israeli settlement policies there. Further study of the Islamic Movement in the Naqab/Negev is merited. The following analysis is based on in‑depth and follow‑up interviews with leaders and activists of both branches of the Movement, including the leader of the Northern Branch, Shaykh Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, and the former leader of the Southern Branch, Shaykh Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur. The title “shaykh” was first applied to the religiously educated men who founded and led the Movement. It has since become a customary title for all leaders in the Movement, including those who did not have a formal religious education. This latter 16  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

use is not novel but is based on the tradition of calling older men and men in positions of authority “shaykh” as an honorific title. I have interviewed leaders and activists at all levels of both branches of the Movement, including members of the Knesset representing the Southern Branch; the directors of the pupil and student associations for both branches; and eighteen male and female student activists at two university campuses in Israel. The organizational structure of the Northern Branch consisted of the Political Office and the Management Office, of which the latter was the most important and was made up of all local heads of that branch across the country. The decisions of this council were made by majority vote and all votes counted the same, including that of the leader of the branch (Ṭabāja Interview 2021). In addition, there were all the institutions and organizations working under the umbrella of this branch, some more and others less directly related to the branch and its leadership. The Southern Branch has a more detailed organizational structure, including: the General Conference (assembly) of the Islamic Movement; the Shura Council of the Islamic Movement; the General Administration of the Islamic Movement and the district administrative units; the Executive Office and the Political Bureau of the Islamic Movement; institutions and associations of the Islamic Movement; the branches of the Islamic movement in the country and the institutions affiliated to it; and the United Arab List Party (Ṣarṣur Email 2021). In contrast to previous studies of the Movement that have focused on the views of its leadership, the present analysis does not only represent the perspectives of the ­male-­dominated leadership level of the Movement; it includes the voices of women and other r­ank-­and-­file activists. A list of all interviewees is provided in the list of sources, including representatives of Palestinian citizens of Israel from other political parties, organizations, and Christian clergy. As mentioned above, it is difficult to assess the exact size of the Islamic Movement, as the two branches do not operate with any type of membership registration; for the same reasons, it is difficult to assess the size of either branch. Because the Northern Branch participated in local elections only in the town of Um al‑Faḥim until 2013 and has never participated in national elections, neither local nor national election results provide a reliable indication of the relative sizes of the two branches prior to the outlawing of the Northern Branch. Neither are there statistics available relating to the usage of facilities or services of the various organizations run by the two branches. Therefore, in the following chapters the term “activist” will be used to describe individuals who are active in one or more of the Islamic Movement’s 17  | Introduction

o­ rganizations—​­anyone who acts on behalf of the Movement in some capacity. The term “supporter” will be used to describe individuals who vote for the Movement in local and/or national elections and/or those people who habitually avail the services provided by the Movement’s organizations or otherwise benefit from assistance provided by the Movement. There is another group that is harder to define, one made up of individuals who also use the organizations and other assistance provided the Movement but who do not consider themselves Islamist or ascribe to its ideology. Neither of the branches, as far as I have been able to detect, operate with any form of requirements to receive assistance from any of its institutions. Moreover, many individuals seem to use the facilities of both branches if available, indicating that the organizations are open for all without any restrictions on individuals related to their branch association. This openness is also evident in events organized by the ­branches—​­individuals seem to partake regardless of which branch is organizing or hosting the charity, religious, or political event. The analysis provided in this study is also based on fieldwork observations and guided tours by Movement activists in towns dominated by the Movement, including the stronghold of the Southern Branch, Kafr Qasim, and that of the Northern Branch, Um al‑Faḥim. By utilizing primary material from interviews and written sources in combination with secondary academic and media sources, the analysis relies on the triangular methodological approach (Esposito 1999; Gunning 2008; Hroub 2002). The three components that make up the triangular approach are direct observation, interaction (interviews), and study (of both primary and secondary written and other sources, such as media). Esposito has contended that this approach is particularly appropriate for the study of Islamist movements because many Islamist activists do not produce many writings (Esposito 1994), a position I share. All interviews were semistructured and based on prepared questions, usually opening with a biography and description of how the interviewees became involved with the Movement and how their activism developed. In all cases, I allowed the conversations to develop naturally. Typically, an interview would continue from the biographical introduction with open questions such as “How did you become active in the Islamic Movement?”; “What is your role in or connection with the Islamic Movement?”; and “What are the ideological and practical goals of the Movement in your understanding?” Thus, these interviews provided reflections of ­rank-­and-­file activists on their engagement in the Movement; their views on Islamist activism generally; and the specific characteristics of Palestinian Islamist activism as it is practiced in the Jewish state. Most interviews were conducted in Arabic with the assistance of an interpreter, and some interviews I conducted in English and/or Hebrew. In 18  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

interviews with individuals who hold official positions in Israeli state bureaucracy, Hebrew would be particularly relevant as this is the technocratic language of the country. This also applied to the interviews with the students whose study language is Hebrew. Four different research assistants worked with me during the different stages of the fieldwork. All were young students and Palestinian citizens of ­Israel—​­two women and two ­men—​­and I met all via university contacts. None had any connection to the Movement or the interviewees. As my research assistants were also interested in the topics discussed, they would sometimes add their own questions, and most interviews had the natural flow of a conversation rather than a strict ­question-­and-­answer formula. All of my meetings with Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ were conducted in his office and the Northern Branch’s office in Um al‑Faḥim and were very formal, with his secretary and lawyer present. He spoke in Modern Standard Arabic, and it was more a ­question-­and-­answer style of interview. My three meetings with Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur were conducted in the Knesset and were also formal, yet they were also more intimate, as the interviews were in English and I was there without a research assistant and only his assistant was present. My meetings with the local and national leadership of the Southern Branch in Kafr Qasim took the form of a large discussion, with many different individuals joining and leaving at different times. This provided more room for informal discussion and follow‑up questions, as I spent a whole afternoon and evening there on several occasions being guided around to see their facilities and meet activists at all levels, including an Islamic wedding band who let me attend their rehearsal. All of the interviews for this research were conducted in the office or home of the interviewee or at an alternative venue chosen by the interviewee. Most interviews were recorded on audio equipment, but some were not, depending on the preference of the interviewee. All leaders and individuals in official positions are named, but all the student interviewees are anonymized, as were others who preferred to remain so. The latter include some of the female activists, as well as interviewees from outside the Movement. For Palestinian citizens, any political activism is considered to involve the risk of attracting the attention of Israeli intelligence agencies, but being involved in Islamist activism is considered to involve a heightened risk of being scrutinized and potentially targeted by intelligence and other state agencies. As described to me by the Northern Branch’s lawyer, Ḥasan Ṭabāja: “Security forces use disguise methods to extract information, and many of the ‘researchers’ we have been introduced to are in fact security agents” (Ṭabāja Interview 2013). For these reasons, it was extremely important for the interviewees to feel safe during the interview and especially with regard to 19  | Introduction

the usage of the material. In order to avoid uncertainties, I approached the leadership first via personal ­contacts—​­Jewish and Palestinian citizens whom I knew could vouch for ­me—​­and the leaders then helped me to get in touch with some other interviewees, providing the necessary level of trust. My first interviews resulted in the so‑called ­snowball-­effect, whereby they introduced me to other people to interview by calling their contacts there and then or by providing me with their contact details. This proved to be a successful approach, as many interviewees, especially among the student activists, expressed that, despite having initial concerns about the sincerity of any research of their Movement and about the usage of the material collected, they felt reassured that their participation in this has been indirectly authorized by the Movement’s leadership. The involvement of research assistants who are themselves Palestinian citizens and who could explain who I was, and the intended usage of the material, was also beneficial in easing the trust of interviewees. My Norwegian nationality was perceived as generally neutral and nonthreatening, despite some dry comments about the failure of the Oslo Accords. The fact that my husband is a British Palestinian who had previously worked at Adalah, some years before my research began, was reassuring to my interviewees. Adalah is a ­well-­recognized and generally ­well-­regarded NGO among Palestinian citizens, so this connection undoubtedly helped provide a level of trust and credibility, and some of my contacts came to me via that organization. I also found, as with my previous research on the Sephardic/Mizrahi group Shas, that, once I was considered “safe” to speak with, interviewees were excited that I was interested in their movement and community and were very happy to tell their story. Palestinian citizens of Israel are not often studied by people from outside Israel, and they are eager to have someone write about their predicament and have their voices represented authentically in English in the academic sphere. Another dimension is that the Movement’s leaders are quite used to being approached by Israeli journalists for interviews. This presented several challenges for me and the interviewees; many were reluctant to speak, since they said that their statements have been misreported or taken out of context by journalists in the past. Others described that individuals had introduced themselves under false pretenses, falsely claiming to be journalists in an effort to extract information, presumably for ­intelligence-­gathering purposes of state agencies. Another methodological problem was that several interviewees had adopted a quick and ­sound-­bite style of answering questions about the Movement that was not conducive to academic research. In several interviews, I had to reiterate that I have time and want the full answer and complete 20  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

explanations, not s­ound-­bite responses for e­ ye-­catching quotations. In addition, I had to explain that, if their answers were aimed at provoking or informing the Israeli political leadership or public, this was not my audience. One strategy I often applied to address this issue was to repeat questions in several different ways in order to cover the issues more extensively. In addition to interviews, a survey was sent to student leaders of the Movement’s student associations, Eqraa and al‑Kalām, who agreed to pass it on to their members and contacts with encouragement to complete it. ­Fifty-­three students from the University of Haifa, Ben Gurion University, and the Hebrew University of Jerusalem completed the survey, all anonymously. The aim was to understand the goals and practices of the student activists among the Islamic Movement’s student community in Israel. The questionnaire requested basic information, including the location of their upbringing and their personal status (single, married, whether they had children, and their level of education). The data from the survey was analyzed in detail in an article that focuses on Islamist student activists (Rosmer 2015). The discussion in chapter 5 draws on the data from this survey. Most of the primary written sources on which this study relies were published on the websites of the Movement or in hard copy by its educational organizations. In addition, the discussion of the Movement’s division in 1996 into two branches in chapter 2 relies in part on documents provided by Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur in Arabic and Hebrew written by himself and other ­senior members of the Southern Branch. These materials concern the Movement itself and discussion for and against its participation in national elections. Other material includes magazines published by the Movement, such as al‑Sur āṭ (The Way), the latter published for and by women, plus many shorter pamphlets from the pupil and student associations of the Movement. Most of the printed sources were given to me by interviewees or obtained at their offices. Eqraa, the educational and student organization of the Northern Branch, has published many informative leaflets and handouts on various topics, including their main tasks; ways to get involved; information about lectures and upcoming events, including solidarity actions and national events such as commemorations and demonstrations; as well as opportunities for students to apply for funding and other assistance. Also included in this category of sources is the book published by Eqraa in Um al‑Faḥim about the Arab student movements within Israeli universities written by Mustafa Mohanad, who today is director of research programs at the Arab Center for Applied Social Studies in Haifa. All of these are in Arabic, and some of the larger publications, such as the Eqraa yearly report from 2010, also include an introduction in English. Other materials are in Hebrew, such as the Al‑Āqṣā Association’s publication Caretaking of the 21  | Introduction

Islamic Holy Sites (1994) and Avraham Hitiv’s All I Wanted to Know about Islam (2007). Both of these books were gifted to me by Kāmil Rayān after my interview with him in 2008.

chapters The chapters are arranged according to the chronological development of the Movement. In chapter 1, the establishment and development of the Islamic Movement in Israel is described through the political life story of Kāmil Rayān and his village of Kafr Qariʿ, providing a grassroots perspective on this entry into the local political scene. Chapter 2 focuses on the 1996 division of the Movement into the Northern Branch and the Southern Branch and on the Movement’s approach to participation in Israeli political life, as well as possibilities and limitations of Israel’s political system. This chapter questions the branding of the two branches in other academic works and by the media whereby the Northern Branch is (usually) described as “radical” and the Southern Branch is described as “moderate.” The analysis argues that, in fact, the two branches have more in common with one another than that which separates them, despite their disagreement over Knesset participation, and thus finds this polarization narrative to be unhelpful. As discussed above, this terminology does not actually tell us anything about the branches it describes but indicates a level of threat or acceptance assumed by those employing these terms. Chapter 3 describes and explains the trifecta of goals of the Islamic Movement (both branches): to protect the Palestinian people, land, and holy ­sites—​­all directly related to the political context of the establishment of Israel and the Palestinian community’s challenging existence in the Jewish state. As such, chapter 3 situates the Movement’s goals in its specific context. Chapter 4 analyzes the Movement’s response to the process of Israelization, a process that can be viewed from two perspectives. First, that Israelization consists of s­tate-­led measures that are intended to weaken the ­Palestinian identity of Palestinian citizens of Israel and strengthen their identity as ­Hebrew-­speaking acquiescent “Israeli Arabs.” Second, Israelization involves the myriad influences on Palestinian citizens’ identity, culture, and lifestyle through prolonged lived experience in Israel and the resulting exposure to, consumption of, and participation in mainstream Hebrew and Israeli media and culture. The Islamic Movement’s response to Israelization is to seek to strengthen the Palestinian, Arab, and Muslim identity of Palestinian citizens through its various organizations and activities, and this chapter hence analyzes its methodology in doing so. 22  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Chapter 5 examines the positions and views of female and student activists, providing a bottom‑up perspective to the analysis. The chapter focuses on women and their roles within the Movement and their local community, as well as on Islamist student activism at Israeli university campuses in general. In addition to hearing from these grassroots activists, the chapter also introduces perspectives outside the Movement, both supportive and critical, from ­non-­Islamists such as Christian leaders, nationalists, and secular Palestinian politicians. These external perspectives also focus on the role of and opportunities for women in the Islamic Movement’s vision of an ideal society, which constitutes one of the key flash point concerns between Islamists and representatives of other ideological trends among Palestinian citizens of Israel. Chapter 6 examines the developments between 2015 and 2020, focusing on the new watershed events for the Movement: the participation of the Joint List in the 2015 elections and the outlawing of the Northern Branch. It also discusses the Knesset elections in 2019 and 2020. The conclusion summarizes the unique nature of the Movement and its development in its particular context.

23  | Introduction

c h a pter one

The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

A

t the beginning of my research, it was not obvious how I would conduct my first interviews with representatives of the Islamic Movement. Considering that my first encounter with the Movement was at a rally for Shaykh Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ in Um al‑Faḥim, it was a surprise that my first formal interview with a leader of the Movement was not in Um al‑Faḥim or in fact in an Arab town or village but in the municipal offices in Tel Aviv. In the heart of the most Jewish Israeli city in the country I was offered tea by an Israeli ­Hebrew-­speaking assistant while I waited to interview Kāmil Rayān, then deputy manager of the Union of Local Authorities in Israel. During the interview my excellent female Christian Palestinian interpreter took the opportunity to ask Rayān about her concerns regarding the political situation and also the Islamic Movement’s views on the position of women in society. The discussion flowed freely, and I found myself surprised this time by the straightforward and ­self-­aware way in which Rayān discussed how the Movement is perceived externally. It should be mentioned that the meeting was set up by Rayān’s daughter via an Israeli friend of mine who had studied with the daughter at university in Israel. My puzzlement revealed my own expectations in terms of the social involvement of the Movement’s activists within Israeli society, as well as about how integrated the Movement has become within the institutions of the state. The latter is an indication of the possibilities the state offers its Arab Palestinian national minority to participate in the bureaucracy of the state. But, as will become evident, there are also many limitations for these ­non-­Jewish citizens. 25

In this chapter, I argue that the factual background of the establishment of the Islamic Movement in Israel and its specific features are linked directly to the history of the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 and the consequences this had for the Palestinians who remained in the new state. The appeal of Islamism to Palestinians in Israel from the 1970s was inspired by a mix of external and internal developments. Externally, the regional turn toward political Islam was promoted by Israel’s defeat of the Arab states and subsequent territorial occupation of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, which brought an end to the ascent of secular p ­ an-­Arabism and Arab nationalism. Another inspiration was the 1979 Iranian Islamic revolution and subsequent establishment of the first ­self-­styled “Islamic republic.” In addition to the external Islamization influences, there were internal factors that made Islamist ideology and practice attractive to Muslim Palestinians in Israel at this time: renewed physical access to the holy sites after the 1967 occupation of the West Bank including East Jerusalem, especially the access gained to al‑Āqṣā mosque; access to established religious and other educational institutions in the West Bank; and access to the Palestinian community in these areas, including family, friends, and religious preachers. All of these factors combined sparked a period of religious revivalism among Muslim Palestinians in Israel. Compared with other Islamist movements in the region, the Movement, whose seeds were sown in the 1970s and who found its shape and form in the early 1980s, can be said to be a late bloomer. According to one ­participant-­observer, Mohanad Mustafa, one of the explanations for this is linked to the social position of those who initiated and those who were attracted to the Movement; unlike in neighboring countries where the social roots of Islamist movements were in the educated middle class, among ­Palestinians in Israel the social roots were found further down the social ladder (Mustafa 2011). Having been isolated from the wider Arab and ­Palestinian community since 1948, the budding leadership of the Movement first needed to be formally educated in Islam before they could spread their message among a public composed mainly of families in the lower socioeconomic class. As a result, another particular characteristic of this movement’s leadership is that it was originally made up of religiously educated men known as “shaykhs,” and not of secularly educated men, as in the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. The majority of the fi ­ rst-­generation Islamist activists and supporters of the Movement in Israel had a ­lower-­class status and limited formal education. They typically had not attended higher education institutions, and many had not completed high school. This contrasts with the generally ­middle-­class and educated character of ­first-­generation Islamist activists in Egypt. 26  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

This chapter describes the early development of the Islamic Movement in Israel (dubbed “a peaceful Islamic revolution” by one of its leaders). It describes the process of its evolution from loosely organized, g­ rassroots-­oriented religious activism, via a s­hort-­lived paramilitary organization, to participation in local elections in the early 1980s. This is described in part through the personal story of one of its leaders, Kāmil Rayān, who was the first representative of the Movement to be elected to a municipal position.

occupation leads to islamization The seeds of the Islamic Movement in Israel were sown in the early 1970s by Palestinian Muslims holding Israeli citizenship who were educated in West Bank Islamic institutions. The Israeli occupation of this area, along with other Arab territories, as a result of the 1967 War facilitated contact between Palestinians in Israel and Palestinians living in the West Bank and the institutions that catered to this West Bank population. At the time, the Islamic institutions in the West Bank were dominated by the Jordanian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood, an organization that the Palestinian Islamists in this area became associated with after the 1948 War. The very first expansion of the original Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood was to Mandate Palestine, where it was involved in the Arab Revolt of 1936, supplying moral and material aid. Sources disagree on when precisely the first Palestinian Muslim Brotherhood organization was formed, but it is thought to have occurred between 1943 and 1945 (Hroub 2002; Jensen 2009). During the Mandate period, the Muslim Brotherhood’s political activism and national ­awareness–­building are described as overshadowing its proselytizing and social activities, and “the Brotherhood became active in public mobilization campaigns in preparation for jihad and in disseminating ­anti-­Zionist propaganda” (Hroub 2002, 17). The organization took part in the fighting in the 1948 War alongside other Arab nationalist organizations, but it was effectively hampered by its limited military experience. After the end of the war, activists who found themselves in the West Bank on the Jordanian side of the Armistice line were incorporated into the Muslim Brotherhood organization there, while those in Gaza became more closely related to the organization in Egypt. The Brotherhood organization in the West Bank was accepted by the Jordanian regime, where it focused on educational and proselytizing activities and participated in Jordanian parliamentary elections from the 1950s ( Jensen 2009). The Brotherhood engaged in military activities together with Jordanian paramilitary against Israel, but the Palestinian members “did not 27  |  The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

constitute an effective political force; they associated themselves with the broad lines of policy pursued by the Jordanian regime, and they focused on proselytizing and education, although they did join in the struggle against Nasserist and Arab nationalist parties” (Hroub 2002, 23). From 1968 to 1970, the Palestinian Brotherhood in the West Bank organized guerrilla raids across the border into Israel alongside other Palestinian groups, and these activities earned them a reputation among Palestinian nationalist leaders and praise from the Palestinian Liberation Organization’s (PLO) chairman, Yasir Arafat (Hroub 2002, 3­0–­31). When the PLO was expelled from Jordan in 1970, the Palestinian Brotherhood stayed neutral in the conflict between the Jordanian monarchy and the PLO, declaring “the rifles of Muslims will be directed neither at [ Jordanian] soldiers nor fida’iyeen [Palestinian fighters]” (Hroub 2002, 30‑31). This Brotherhood then turned its focus to educational missions and recruitment of new, younger members. Hroub quotes a Brotherhood leader who described this period as the “phase of mosque building” for the Muslim Brothers in Jordan (Hroub 2002, 30). The Brotherhood’s efforts to attract new members were successful, and it recruited university and ­high-­school students, established student societies, and challenged groups affiliated with the PLO in Jordan. These activities continued during the 1980s, a period Hroub describes as that of “social institution building” when, in addition to student associations, social clubs and charitable organizations were established as the meeting points for the new generation of Islamists. It was to these institutions that the young Palestinians who came from Israel to study Islam after 1967 were introduced. Upon completion of their education at various Islamic institutions in the West Bank, these young ­Palestinians returned to Israel, where they established study centers and began setting up the infrastructure that became the Islamic Movement in Israel. Former leader of the Southern Branch and t­hen ­Knesset member Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur explained: The 1967 War was a Holocaust from a military point of view, but it was the beginning of the reawakening of the Arab population inside Israel. For the first time we felt that we had found the other part of our nation. I mean those Palestinians who lived in the occupied territories. . . . And I must confess to you that the Palestinian people who lived inside the occupied territories were more educated than we were. They were in direct connection with the Arab world, with the Muslim world, and with the international community. Shaykh ʿAbdallah [Nimr Darwīsh] was the first Arab Israeli citizen to go and study in one of the famous colleges in Nablus. (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008) 28  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

To appreciate the particularities of the context in which the Islamic Movement in Israel developed, it is necessary to consider the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 and the ensuing predicament of the Palestinians who remained within the new Jewish state. As described in the introduction, ­seven-­eighths of the Arab inhabitants in the land that became the State of Israel after the war were expelled or fled. Of those who remained, less than half were granted immediate Israeli citizenship. Between 1948 and 1966, Palestinians inside Israel lived under military government. This administration was part of what Lustick described as “a highly effective system of control” (Lustick 1980, 5). According to Lustick, this system of control involved three interacting processes: segmentation, dependence, and co‑optation. The highly effective nature of this system resulted in there being no significant political or communal organization among Palestinians in Israel until the 1970s. In addition to curbing political and social interactions and development, the Israeli state confiscated more than half of the land belonging to the Palestinians remaining in Israel during the period of the military government (Lustick 1980). Significantly, this was in addition to the Palestinian land the state had already confiscated from Palestinians who were living in exile and denied their right of return. In sum, throughout the period of military rule, the state systematically marginalized the remaining Palestinian population economically and politically (Shafir and Peled 2002; Rouhana 2006; As’ad Ghanem 2001; Lustick 1980). The abolition of the military government in 1966 finally gave Palestinian Arabs in Israel the opportunity to travel freely within the country; to organize themselves politically; to be tried in the same legal system as Jewish citizens; and to participate in the country’s economic and social life. However, as described in the introduction, Palestinian citizens were far from equal to their Jewish counterparts and are still today discriminated against as ­non-­Jewish citizens (Peleg and Waxman 2011). By the time Israel captured and occupied the West Bank and other Arab territories in 1967, there was a significant deficit in Islamic educational opportunities and infrastructure available to Palestinian Muslims in Israel. In particular, a shortage of religious judges (quḍāa) and religious functionaries inside Israel had become pressing in the 1960s due to a combination of factors: the vacuum left after the 1948 war, during which most of the Palestinian intelligentsia fled or was expelled; the retirement of the judges and functionaries who remained; and the state’s failure to ensure sufficient recruitment procedures for young Muslim religious leaders (A. R. Peled 2001, ­129–­130). The state had taken over the organizing of Muslim communal life after its establishment, and the Ministry of Religious Affairs began appointing new 29  |  The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

religious judges and organizing religious courts in 1948. The state’s approach in handling the organization of Muslim religious life was, simultaneously, to provide religious services and to control the political development of this population: The state supported communal autonomy on realms perceived as purely religious, such as personal status and freedom of worship. At the same time, the government suspected an intrinsic link between Islam and Arab political nationalism, its greatest concern. Thus, Israel implemented a system of strict central controls to prevent the emergence of a national Muslim leadership or an independent religious education system. Israeli policy also had a financial dimension: the mobilization of the vast resources through control of the Muslim Waqf [the administration of all land and buildings given to the Muslim community through religious endowment including Muslim holy sites]. The final motive in this mosaic was a quest to highlight Israel’s enlightened treatment of Muslim holy places in order to broaden international support for the fledgling state. (A. R. Peled 2001, 3)

Therefore, the state based its religious appointments on the candidates’ political acceptability, rather than on their religious expertise. The Muslim community had raised the problem of recruitment of religious experts since 1948, but due to the combination of the vacuum from the 1948 war and the failure of the state to adequately address this issue, there were increasingly fewer qualified individuals inside Israel to replace retired religious judges and functionaries. It was this vacuum of Muslim religious expertise that future leaders of the Islamic Movement began to fill beginning in the 1970s, when they returned from religious educational institutions in the West Bank. As Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ explained to me: The Islamic Movement started in the early seventies and the beginning, in my opinion, was due to two factors. The first factor was the arrival of a group of Muslim scholars from the West Bank and Gaza Strip who personally initiated and started to give lessons in our mosques, which originally lacked an Islamic revival. Their role developed into giving lessons in homes and at public gatherings in the streets. The second factor was that in that period, we learned, for the first time, that there are Islamic institutes in which we could study Islamic studies, whether in Hebron, Jerusalem, or Nablus. This 30  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

was the first time in our history that we had the opportunity to learn about Islam according to its principles as stated in the Holy Qur’an. (Ṣalāḥ Interview 2008)

Initially, the Israeli Ministry of Religious Affairs encouraged Muslim students from Israel to study in the West Bank and even subsidized their tuition (A. R. Peled 2001, 128). It also assisted in establishing the Hebron Islamic Studies Center. The rationale behind this policy was the belief that increased contact between Muslims from inside Israel and Palestinians from the occupied West Bank would have the effect of tempering opposition to the military occupation among West Bankers, because the latter would learn from the advantages of living under Israeli rule from the former (A. R. Peled 2001, 128). This policy was part of what Peled describes as “a policy [toward the minority Palestinian population] constantly altered by circumstances, with no final outcome predetermined from the start” (A. R. Peled 2001, 2). In addition to the assistance to the Hebron Islamic Studies Center and tuition subsidies to Palestinian Muslims from Israel to attend religious seminaries in the West Bank, the state appointed religious functionaries from the West Bank to positions in Israel (A. R. Peled 2001, 128). Former leader of the Southern Branch and ­then ­member of the Knesset Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur recalled his experience of being a young teenager when Shaykh ʿAbdallah Nimr Darwīsh, the first leader of the Islamic Movement, returned to Israel in 1972 from his studies in Nablus in the occupied West Bank. Both Ṣarṣur and Darwīsh are from Kafr Qasim, which later became the first base of the Movement. In Ṣarṣur’s words: In 1969, that means two years after the 1967 War, the imam of the v­ illage—​­who was an old ­man—​­encouraged [a] young, charismatic man [Darwīsh] to go and study Islam in Nablus. That was the only alternative. Even during the years of his study in that college, he used to come at the weekends to the village. And we were, at that time, pupils in the elementary ­school—​­in the eighth grade, ninth grade. And I was raised in a very conservative family. I used to go with my father to the mosque and we used to see that young charismatic man who preached on Fridays, in the only mosque at those times in our village. And when he looked at us, he saw that there are tens of pupils coming to the mosque. That’s why he began to create that kind of connection between him and us. And that was the beginning, the first step toward becoming the Islamic Movement, which was established when Shaykh ʿAbdallah finished his studies in Nablus in 1972. So I was ­raised—​­I can say that I grew ­up—​­with the Islamic 31  |  The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

Movement since I was a child of thirteen or fourteen years. (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008)

­Then ­Knesset member for the Islamic Movement ʿAbbās Zakur said that, until the late 1980s, the Movement used to invite male and female preachers from the West Bank and Gaza to give talks about Islam at mosques across Israel. This implies that these preachers were permitted entry by the state in order to attend religious meetings inside Israel. He emphasized that the primary agenda of the then newly established Movement was to introduce Islam to the Muslims in ­Israel—​­to teach them about “real” Islam (Zakur Interview 2008). Another local inspiration for the turn toward Islamism was the earlier visit to Israel by Pope Pius in 1964. Young Muslims were stirred by the display of enthusiasm and activism among Christians related to the visit, and as a result they became engaged in (Palestinian and Muslim) community work, grew beards, and began dressing in traditional style (Pappé 2011, 87). To sum up, the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip in 1967 had the perhaps unintended consequence of reuniting these Palestinians with their families and people, as well as connecting them with Muslim religious and cultural institutions. After having lived in isolation from the wider Palestinian society and from the Arab and Muslim world more generally, the Islamic awakening among Palestinians in Israel began after they reconnected with their people, culture, and contemporary religious currents in the early to ­mid-­1970s. The leaders of the then budding Islamic Movement were religiously educated shaykhs, their character forged in part by the factors of the religious and cultural isolation combined with the neglectful administration of Muslim religious organizations by the Israeli state. With the Israeli occupation of the West Bank, Palestinians from Israel gained access to Islamic educational institutions provided there and benefited from the financial support provided by the State of Israel to pursue their studies there. Thus, in more than one way, the Israeli state facilitated the development of the first leadership of the Islamic Movement in Israel. The next section of this chapter describes in detail the early evolution of the Islamic Movement.

early evolution of the movement The Islamic Movement in Israel emerged in what is called the “Arab Triangle,” the area that stretches from Um al‑Faḥim in the north to Kafr Qasim in the south. This area is densely populated by Palestinian citizens 32  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

and remains the geographical center of the Movement. While most sources from the Movement and other observers agree that the Movement was established by Darwīsh, there are different views about when it was founded. Above, Ṣarṣur suggested that Darwīsh founded the Movement in 1972 when he returned from his education in the West Bank. However, most academic sources rely on the analysis by Amara (1996), which holds that Darwīsh set up the Movement in the shape that we know it in 1983 as the organization al‑Ḥaraka al‑Islāmiyya fi ­Isrāīl—​­the Islamic Movement in Israel. According to Ṣarṣur, Darwīsh proposed this title to the General Administration of the Movement in 1985, where it was approved (Ṣarṣur Email 2021). From 1981 to 1983, Darwīsh served a sentence following a conviction for his role as the spiritual leader of the paramilitary underground organization Ūsrat al‑Jihād, the Family of Jihad, which Darwīsh denied being a part of (Aburaiya 2004; Amara 1996; Asʻad Ghanem 2001). The Family of Jihad was established in the 1970s by a small group of young men in their twenties and thirties who have been described as teachers, laborers, clerks, and merchants (A. R. Peled 2001, 130). They believed in armed struggle against the state and its Jewish citizens (Asʻad Ghanem 2001) and had links to the Palestinian Muslim Brotherhood group in Gaza that during this time was developing its positions and modes of activity in response to the occupation. Since 1948, the Gazan branch of the Palestinian Muslim Brotherhood was more active in national efforts compared with the Palestinian Muslim Brothers in the West Bank, and this branch stood at the forefront of Palestinian paramilitary and political engagement until the m ­ id-­1950s, when conflict between the mother organization and President Gamal Abdel Nasser in Egypt forced it underground. When the Palestinian National Liberation Movement (Fateh) was established in 1959 with the aim of liberating Palestine, the Palestinian Brotherhood formulated its own strategy of “consolidating the power of its existing organization in the expectation that, when it succeeded in its mission, it would liberate Palestine with the support of the entire Islamic world” (Hroub 2002, 28). While Fateh engaged in military actions, the Palestinian Brotherhood organization “continued its efforts in organizational, pedagogical, and proselyting activities” (Hroub 2002, 29). Their position was to prepare the ground for mobilization for a war of liberation by creating a strong Islamic foundation: “A generation of Muslims committed to their faith and prepared for sacrifice had to be raised by shaping the character of the individual members of that generation in a true Islamic mold” (Hroub 2002, 28). The occupation in 1967 changed the context, and the Brotherhood’s approach to the new reality was to focus on three related strategies: mobilization through its institutions and elections; passive resistance such as 33  |  The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

participating in demonstrations and protests; and military action that was to be supported by establishing a paramilitary wing under the leadership of the future leader of Ḥamās, the Islamist resistance movement in the occupied Palestinian territory, Shaykh Ahmad Yassin. The attempts at armed struggle in the late 1970s by the Family of Jihad were among the first armed actions by any group then associated with the Palestinian Muslim Brotherhood. The Family of Jihad group acquired weapons and focused on Israeli economic targets in agricultural areas and on cultural institutions in the Palestinian community. For example, in 1981 members set fire to the cinema in Um al‑Faḥim for screening films they thought to be inappropriate (A. R. Peled 2001, 130). When the group was exposed by Israeli security services in 1981, sixty activists were sentenced to prison. Darwīsh was arrested as the spiritual leader of the group, but he denied association with it. He received the lowest sentence of three years; the rest of the group were sentenced to up to fifteen years (Amara 1996). Ṣarṣur described these events as “an uncalculated adventure caused by ‘complicated circumstance’ ” (Ṣarṣur 2008, 5). As described above, the government strategically used the Islamists to assist in its aim to thwart the dominance and development of the PLO, and this was also the case with political prisoners, who were mostly from the occupied West Bank and Gaza (A. R. Peled 2001, 131; Rouhana 1997, 106). The Islamist prisoners were therefore encouraged to bring their own literature to prison and to disseminate it among the other prisoners. In the view of one of my interviewees, the state preferred religious opponents over secular ones because the latter speaks a language of rights and the former speaks a religious language of exclusion; the former can therefore be rebuffed, while the latter can (and in the case of the PLO did) engage in peace building, and this is perceived as a more dangerous threat to Israel than resistance (Abu Elasal Interview 2010). The result of the Islamist activities inside the prison was that prisoners from different political backgrounds united through Islam, and many of them became the activists and leaders of the Movement after their release (A. R. Peled 2001, 131). After Darwīsh was released from prison, observers describe a shift within his movement away from “Islamization from above” to “Islamization from below,” with a new focus on ­social–­cultural–­religious activities and avoidance of all public calls to establish an Islamic state (Amara 1996, ­156–­57). This shift is also described as an ­ideological-­practical development from a small activist group to a grassroots movement (Amara 1996). The focus from then on was primarily on ­daʿwa—​­the idea of spreading Islam (to secularized Muslims) or improving an Islamic lifestyle among individuals and society at large. (The daʿwa aspect is discussed in chapter 4.) As described by Ṣarṣur, “the Movement switched its activities to providing services within an institutional 34  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

framework, which entailed becoming active in society, filling the gaps, and proving its ability to politicize people and reaffirming its missionary reference suitably for Islamic gain. Institutionalization emerged, and priorities for action on social, reformative, and political issues arose” (Ṣarṣur 2008, 5). The new Movement was then modeled on the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, focusing on youth education and teaching Islam, collecting zak āat (Islamic obligatory ­alms-­giving), organizing volunteer work camps across the country, and other initiatives whose goal was to provide pastoral care for the Palestinian Muslim community in Israel (Amara 1996). “Although they do not clearly state its official affiliation, it is evident from statements by the Movement’s leaders that it has a ­well-­defined relationship to the Muslim Brotherhood in terms both of its ideology and of its narratives” (Nasasra 2017, 50). The Movement took care to ensure that all its activities operated within the framework of Israeli law. The Movement quickly gained popularity due to its ability to successfully organize communal and social change through a growing network of local charities that provided necessary social infrastructure, including kindergartens, health clinics, schools, and mosques, as well as financing imams (Aburaiya 2004). (This infrastructure is addressed in chapters 3 and 4.) From the ­mid-­1980s to the early 1990s, the Islamic Movement expanded its power to local governments, winning seats in local elections. This transition to the local political stage is detailed in the following section.

entering local politics The entrance and early development of the Movement in local politics can be illustrated by the personal story and political ascent of Kāmil Rayān. He was the Islamic Movement’s first mayor in Israel after winning an election to serve the village of Kafr Barā in 1983. When I interviewed him in 2008, he held the position of deputy manager of the Union of Local Authorities in Israel (ULAI). “The Union of Local Authorities in Israel is a ­non-­profit association serving as an umbrella organization for local government officials. Its income, obtained from membership fees and partnerships in financial organizations, is aimed to provide for and assist local authorities” (Knesset website 2015b). The ULAI as such acts as the umbrella organization of 265 Israeli local authorities and represents them and their daily issues and problems before the national government (Knesset website 2015b). Our interview took place in Rayān’s office in central Tel Aviv. Rayān’s position is significant, because there are few Palestinians in the Israeli central bureaucracy and even fewer from the Islamic Movement. His 35  |  The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

position is not only an indication of his personal professional success; it is also a sign of how far the Islamic Movement has come in terms of political popularity, as well as in terms of participating in Israeli political bureaucracy. Rayān’s office in central Tel Aviv also has political and symbolic significance. Tel Aviv is the largest Jewish city in Israel, with few Palestinian residents and few Palestinian professionals. It is often called the “White City,” a reference to its white ­Bauhaus-­style buildings, but some also point to its relative paucity of “black” Palestinians, as well as the “ghettoization” of Jews of Middle Eastern and North African descent and Jews of ­Sub-­Saharan African decent. Central Tel Aviv especially is perceived as a city for and by Ashkenazi (European) Jews. From a Palestinian viewpoint, this “white” Jewish city has colonized the “black” Palestinian landscape it was built on (Rotbard 2015). As such, for Palestinians, Tel Aviv is in many ways a symbol of the ­Nakba—​­the loss of land, people, and religious sites. The construction of a city is akin to the writing of ­history—​­it is built by the victors and therefore in accordance with the victors’ version of history. Thus, those who control the physical space also control the cultural space (Rotbard 2015). As an example of the destruction of Palestinian existence in what became Tel Aviv, Rayān mentioned the landmark Hilton Hotel on the beach that was built on the (Palestinian) Abdel Nabi cemetery. Today there are no physical or other signs of the cemetery, and young Jewish Israelis and Palestinian citizens might not even know that there once was a mosque and cemetery there (see chapter 3 for details). With this in mind, Rayān’s position is significant on the symbolic ­level—​­he is a Palestinian reentering the “white” Jewish space that was created through the destruction of his heritage. In our conversation, Rayān recalled how he became active in the Islamic Movement as a young man in 1978. First, he was “brought back to religion” by his wife, whom he proudly described as the first Palestinian woman in Israel to wear the full jilb āb (long and l­oose-­fitting coat). He and his wife were both teachers in the Palestinian communities in the Negev/Naqab area of southern Israel in the late 1970s. He described that one day in 1981 he was, along with ­thirty-­eight other teachers, fired from his position by the Israeli authorities due to his affiliation with the Family of Jihad organization. Rayān explained in the interview that he returned to his hometown, Kafr Barā, and worked for three years in a quarry, to the great disappointment of his parents, who had hoped that their educated son would have been able to avoid physical labor. While Rayān was working in the quarry, he continued to study Islam in the evenings. Despite the hard and unskilled work, he described these years as the best of his life, because they afforded him the opportunity to focus on his religious studies. Then, in October 1983, the inhabitants in his town approached him and requested that he stand for the 36  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

position of mayor under the banner of the Islamic Movement in the upcoming local elections. Rayān was only ­twenty-­six years old at the time. Rayān stressed that he was very reluctant to take on such a responsibility, due to his young age and lack of administrative experience. Nevertheless, he won the election and became the Islamic Movement’s first mayor in Israel. Rayān’s electoral success was as much a surprise to himself and the Movement as it was to the Israeli state and its agencies. In Rayān’s opinion, in addition to marking entry into the local political scene, his election also marked the beginning of the “real struggle for the survival” of the Islamic Movement in Israel. He described in the interview how the Israeli interior security service, Shin Bet, repeatedly tried to put obstacles in his way, and he claims he was exposed to harassment from this agency. To corroborate this recollection, he showed me a page from the Israeli author David Grossman’s book Sleeping on a Wire (in Hebrew the book is titled Nikod īm Nokhakh īm, which means literally “Present Absentees”), in which Rayān is quoted saying the following about the Shin Bet: [Shin Bet] slandered me in all kinds of ways, saying that I was a Khomeini supporter on the outskirts of [the Jewish city] Petah Tikva, and they quoted an article they claimed I’d written, that I was waiting for Khomeini to destroy Israel and that I was inviting the PLO to come. In every government office I entered I’d see a photocopy of that article with its lies. Doors were closed to me wherever I went. They didn’t give money. They tried slowly, slowly to strangle the village because of me. We didn’t have money to pay for electricity; they cut the water off too. The village didn’t have a single meter of pavement then. There was no sewage, no underground water network. You didn’t see a single flower. There was no place for sports, no place for culture. There was no medical clinic. Whoever needed a vaccination had to go to Petah Tikva! Our city hall was one room and one employee. Try working with that! (Grossman 2003, 227)

After having related this story to me, Rayān made a point to mention that, during the water shortage caused by the government, the village was helped by the neighboring kibbutz (a Jewish collective community), whose inhabitants brought water from their own resources to the village. Rayān is a strong believer of intercommunal communication and relations, and he is active in interfaith dialogue. As the director of the El Rafah Association for the Welfare of the Community established in Kafr Bara in 1999, he has been active in the religious reconciliation project known by its Hebrew acronym KEDEM (for “Kol dati mefayes,” meaning “All religious reconcile”), founded in 2002 37  |  The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

by the Interreligious Council in Israel. During our interview, Rayān gave me the E ­ nglish-­language “KEDEM: Voices of Religious Reconciliation” ­booklet that describes the goals and methodology of this initiative as working “to spread the voice of religious reconciliation between Jewish, Muslim and Christian religious leaders in Israel” (Kedem 2004). As another testimony to Rayān’s focus on intercommunal relations, he also gave me a copy of a ­self-­published book by Avraham Hitiv titled All I Wanted to Know about Islam in Hebrew. In the abstract, the author explains that he wrote this book because “as an elder person, I have been searching in libraries for a book about Islam written in Hebrew by a local Muslim Arab,” and when he didn’t find any, he decided to write one himself (Hitiv 2007). Rayān went on to recommend that I read Grossman’s book, since the book records events from the 1990s in a manner that he agrees with. By recommending that I read Grossman’s book, Rayān showed appreciation for Grossman’s initiative and lent authority to his narrative. Rayān remarked to me that Grossman provides a good account of the beginning of the Islamic Movement in Hebrew. Because of this endorsement, and because Grossman also interviewed Rayān, the following section, on community activism, will rely in part on Grossman’s observations. The ­documentary-­style book is about the author’s encounters with different Palestinian citizens while travelling around Israel in the early 1990s. Throughout the book, Grossman describes their lives and retells their stories, while also reflecting on his own thoughts and feelings about the predicament of these native ­non-­Jewish citizens, from his empathetic and Zionist Jewish Israeli point of view. One of the chapters is devoted to the Islamic Movement, including Grossman’s visit to Kafr Barā, where he spoke with Rayān. As such, this chapter offers observations on the early praxis of the Islamic Movement from a sympathetic, but concerned, Jewish Israeli point of view. The book represents one of the few texts, if not the only, to include positive descriptions of the Islamic Movement by a prominent Jewish Israeli author. In the book, Grossman reflects on both his social and political observations and on his emotional reactions. In his s­ocial-­political analysis, Grossman drew a parallel between the Islamist activists and the early Zionist pioneers, acknowledging their similarities in collective methodology, spirit, and focus of work: to build (or rebuild) the country and their community. The Palestinian volunteer workers are “doing exactly what any Israeli [i.e., Jewish Israeli] group with initiative and vision would do,” he writes (Grossman 2003, 248). In his emotional reflections, throughout that chapter, Grossman writes about the paradoxical nature of this situation and about his own mixed feelings of simultaneous apprehension of, and admiration for, the willingness 38  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

and ability of the Islamic Movement’s supporters to contribute to building and improving their community. Muʿaskar āt means “work camps,” one of the main collective tools of the Islamic Movement whereby hundreds or even thousands of Palestinians come from all over Israel to a village or town or home to assist locals with whatever is needed, completely free of charge. In our interview, Rayān described the philosophy behind these collective work camps, and he observed that desperate situations are “the mother of all inventions” (Rayān Interview 2008). He added that his personal slogan is “With one arm we knock on the door and ask for our rights and with the other we work” (Rayān Interview 2008). The work camps are based exclusively on volunteerism: people take time off from work or use their weekends and bring their own tools, ­know-­how, or manpower to assist building kindergartens, mosques, and community centers; to pave roads; to rebuild demolished houses; or to do any kind of necessary, practical work. In addition to the practical outcomes, the work camps unite the participants and the locals in solidarity and present an opportunity for the Movement to preach its teachings and spread its word further. In Grossman’s account from Kafr Barā, he recalls his amazement at the skills and dedication of the volunteer workers of the work camp who paved and constructed m ­ uch-­needed tarmac streets in the village. The state had failed to provide such streets until then. This is how Grossman describes the work camp he witnessed: The two bulldozer operators descend towards us in the light of their vehicles. Sweaty, grimy, glowing. Nidal Sutani from Tira, and Ali Abu Shaykha from Ara. They have come for a week. Staying with friends in the village. “I can sleep wherever I want. Whatever I want, they will let me eat,” Ali says. He is working as a volunteer. He is sacrificing a week’s profits for work on his Volvo MB tractor and a week’s salary from another job. He even pays for the bulldozer’s fuel. “I’ve already learned that if I do a good deed here, I earn more afterwards outside.” His friend adds, “In these camps I’ve learned what the power of religion is, what the power of work is when you do it for yourself and help yourself. Look at how the people here are giving with all their hearts. I got up this morning when it was still dark, at 4:30, I prayed, and ever since I’ve been working, and we’ll keep working until we collapse.” (Grossman 2003, 236)

Grossman continues to relate how Rayān had recalled the construction of the community center, for which Kafr Barā village did not have the necessary 39  |  The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

funding, estimated to exceed $200,000. Grossman cites Rayān, explaining how they managed to get the funding and build the center: [Rayān:] So what did we do? We set up a national team. We brought five engineers, from Kafr Kana, Um al‑Faḥim, Kafr Qasim and one of our own. That was the steering committee. We created five committees, one responsible for material, one for labour, one for equipment, and so on. On the fourth day of the mourning period [for one of the original planners, who had suddenly passed away] we’d already begun to work. We collected $35,000 from people in the village: people withdrew savings. Women took rings from their fingers, gold earrings; we filled a bag with gold and jewellery. [Grossman asked:] Just voluntarily? There are rumours that you force people to contribute. [Rayān:] Everything was [done] voluntarily. We are forbidden, religiously, to force a man to pay. Besides, what power do we have to take by force? I’ve got only peer pressure behind me, everyone around you gives, you give, too. There are political parties that oppose us, but when we lay a sidewalk next to the house of an opponent, do you think he doesn’t come out to help? Of course he does! (Grossman 2003, 245)

In a conversation Grossman had with Darwīsh, who was then the leader of the Movement, Darwīsh explained that even people who are not active in the Movement assist it in its volunteer ­work—​­because it provides a framework in which they can contribute, something they are not offered in the Jewish state as Arab Palestinian citizens: While all of them work under the green flag of the Islamic Movement, many of the young people don’t belong to us at all. Because even those young people of whom it is sometimes said that they are materialistic and not active, they too, are searching for the opportunity to give of themselves. To contribute. And what other opportunity does the democratic and glorious State of Israel give to contribute voluntarily? To identify with an idea? (Grossman 2003, 243)

The Movement still arranges such work camps across the country today. Coinciding with the research for this book, what is described as “one of the biggest voluntary camps in the Arab circles in general and in the Naqab/Negev in particular” was arranged in March 2009 and involved building a house 40  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

for a family in need as well as maintenance work on several local mosques. The completion of the projects was celebrated with a big festival at one of the municipal parks where Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, leader of the Northern Branch, gave a speech that was later published on the Eqraa website (Ṣalāḥ 2009). Rayān’s ascent to mayor of Kafr Barā marked the entry of the Islamic Movement into the local political scene in Israel. In the following section, the importance of local politics for Palestinians in Israel and the success of the Movement on this stage is discussed.

a peaceful islamic revolution In the 1989 local elections, the Islamic Movement participated in more localities than just Kafr Barā, and wherever it participated, the Movement won seats: it secured six of f­orty-­six mayoral positions countrywide (Rouhana 1997, 106) and ­forty-­six seats in local and municipal councils (Asʻad Ghanem 2001, 124). Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur described 1989 as “a kind of ­revolution—​­an Islamic ­Revolution—​­I mean a peaceful Islamic Revolution in Israel” (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008). Local authorities in Israel provide their citizens with local services, such as water supply, sewage systems, garbage disposal, road paving and maintenance, installment and maintenance of public gardens and parks, social services, and establishment of institutions for sports, education, culture and health. . . . The local authorities’ councils are elected on the basis of proportional representation. Many mayors and heads of local councils are nominated on local candidate lists, and not national ones, even though many local lists are associated with the national parties. Since 1975, and first implemented in 1978, heads of local authorities (mayors or chairpersons of local/regional councils) are elected in direct elections. (Knesset 2015a)

Therefore, local government is very important for Palestinian citizens, as it provides all the important services described above, in addition to being responsible for the infrastructure for the services provided by the central government (including health, education, and services for culture and sports). The original Arab local authorities of Mandate Palestine were destroyed by the war in 1948, as part of the complete fragmentation of Palestinian society at the national and local levels. The local authorities currently in place were established from the 1950s onward. After the abolition of the military government in 1966 and the consolidation of Arab local government in 1975, 41  |  The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

this has been the most important channel of social and political development among Palestinian citizens of Israel (Asʻad Ghanem 2001, 138). In addition to providing services, local government is seen as the “only political nexus on which the Arabs have direct influence” (Asʻad Ghanem 2001, ­138–­140) because, as a national minority in Israel, Palestinian citizens perceive themselves as lacking the ability to exert influence on an equal footing with Jewish Israelis at the state level. Due to this perception, local elections have a high rate of participation among Palestinian citizens when compared with parliamentary elections and when compared with Jewish voters. To illustrate: in the 2013 local elections, Palestinian citizens’ participation reached 85 to 90 percent (Hilou 2013). This is impressive, especially when compared against nationwide participation figures of under 50 percent (Hilou 2013). Significantly, in part due to the discrimination Palestinian citizens face in the private sector and at state level, local government has become an important employer for this minority, especially for university graduates and intellectuals (Asʻad Ghanem 2001, ­138–­140). As such, local government has become a springboard for Palestinian citizens to positions in the leadership among Palestinians in Israel (Asʻad Ghanem 2001, ­138–­140). Until the 1970s, Palestinian citizens tended to vote either for Jewish Zionist parties, mostly the Labour Party’s forerunner, Mapai, and its local Arab lists, or for the ­Jewish-­Palestinian Communist Party. This changed in the 1970s with the emergence of Palestinian secular parties: the ­Jewish-­Palestinian ­socialist-­communist party that today is called the Democratic Front for Peace and Equality (al‑Jabha al‑Dimuqraṭiyya lissalām walmusawā) and the nationalist parties the Sons of the Village (Ḥarakat Ābnaʾ al‑Balad) and the National Democratic Alliance (al‑Tajammu’ al‑Watani al‑Dimuqraṭi) (Asʻad Ghanem 2001). However, it is not easy to assess the comparative sizes and successes of these parties based on local election results, because in local elections the national parties often participate under different list names and in coalitions with both other national parties and local lists. The latter are election lists that do not have an affiliation to a political party and usually change from election to election, both in terms of the names and in terms of composition. To indicate the level of fragmentation and factionalism of local politics among Palestinians in Israel, in 1983 there was an 11 percent increase in election lists (compared with the elections in 1978); this rose another 26 percent in 1989, followed by another 39 percent in 1993, before dropping in 1998 due to a new ministerial policy initiated in order to reduce the number of lists (As’ad Ghanem and Mustafa 2009, 158). For the countrywide political parties, this fragmentation has meant that they have not been able 42  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

to properly break through onto the local political scene. Thus, the picture is different from village to v­ illage—​­the individuals on an election list can be associated with a party, a local list, or a clan; or indeed a combination of the three. However, not all individuals on a given list (necessarily) have the same affiliation. The clan (ḥamula) represents the link with community governance before the establishment of Israel, when the clan was a main power holder alongside village notables and property owners (Asʻad Ghanem 2001, 142). In Mandate Palestine, village politics was conducted through alliances and competitions between clans, which are “patrilinear kinship associations whose members are theoretically descendants of one ancestor” (Lustick 1980, 117). By the 1930s, political organization decreased the importance of the clans (Lustick 1980). Then, with the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, Palestinian politics was fragmented and the clan returned to the fore as a major unit of political representation. The new Israeli state took advantage of the religious, geographic, cultural, and lifestyle divisions among the Palestinians who remained in the country in an effort to thwart the development of a countrywide Arab political identity and the development of oppositional alliances across these divisions (including with dissident Jewish groups) (Lustick 1980). Through the practices of the military government and related ministries, as well as Zionist political parties who worked to secure votes among the villagers, the clan fragmentation of the Palestinian community was encouraged, maintained, and exploited (Lustick 1980, 137). Because of this d ­ ivide-­and-­rule approach, “clan competition became a synonym for the local political system” among Palestinian citizens, as it was the chief framework of loyalty and therefore became the basis on which local elections were decided (Asʻad Ghanem 2001, 142). Thus, clan affiliation remains a major factor in the local politics of Palestinian citizens of Israel, alongside ideological parties and movements. Clan dependency is today considered to be a “traditional” or “backward” manner of conducting politics, and it is cited as the main reason for the failure to form cohesive and effective representation of Palestinians in Israel. A significant number of Israeli, Palestinian, and other scholars cite ­clan-­based politics as an explanation for Palestinian political failures, ranging from the ­1936–­1939 Revolt, the 1948 Nakba, and the fragmented and inefficient representation of Palestinian citizens vis‑à‑vis the state (Tuastad 2009, ­18–­19). However, “a weakness of these studies is that they all use rural familism and segmentary kinship organization as an axiomatic background for explanations of ­non-­efficient political organization without either describing or analyzing the contents of this familism and kinship organization” (Tuastad 2009, 19). Moreover, such analyses of the use (and abuse) of the clan 43  |  The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

system ignore the Israeli state’s instrumental promotion and utilization of this system in order to implement their d ­ ivide-­and-­control strategy over this population, as described above. Nevertheless, clan politics has ­been—​­and ­remains—​­an obstacle to effective governance and has resulted in a politics rife with patronage that serves narrow personal interests. This has had “a detrimental effect on the ­well-­being of Arab residents, leaving them with financially dilapidated local authorities and deficient local services” (El‑Taji 2008, Abstract). Given this background, it is significant that the Islamic Movement has been recognized as offering a successful challenge to clan dominance in local politics. The decline in the clan lists in local elections happened only from 1983, when the Islamic Movement entered the political scene (Asʻad Ghanem and Mustafa 2011). This decline is attributed to the replacement of the “narrow interest of the hamulas with the public interest of the residents” (El‑Taji 2008, 168). This development is best illustrated with the case of Um al‑Faḥim. In the elections of 1989, the city of Um al‑Faḥim was the only place where a list won the majority of the votes; in all other localities the lists had to form coalitions (Asʻad Ghanem 2001). The winning list was the one representing the Islamic Movement. Um al‑Faḥim has since been considered the heart of the Islamic Movement in Israel (and, since the Movement’s internal split in 1996, it has been associated with the Northern Branch). Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ was elected as the city’s mayor in 1989, a position he held until he stepped down in 2001, and the Movement ran the municipality until it chose not to participate in the local elections in 2013. The Movement’s electoral popularity is due to a combination of factors: its success in providing needed services to the city’s inhabitants and its ability to rid the local scene of clan politics, as well as the appeal of its Islamist ideology. These factors are directly connected: the Movement’s success in delivering services to local residents through its voluntary organizations is identified as the methodology that overcame narrow, c­ lan-­driven interests (El‑Taji 2008). Similar to the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, this movement offered needed services through what Clark described as “Islamic Social Institutions” (Clark 2004), but in addition it provided services through its control over (certain) local governments. When the Islamic Movement took over the leadership of Um al‑Faḥim, the city faced “severe economic problems and a wave of criminal activity among the high proportion of unemployed youth” (A. R. Peled 1994, 285). Since the Islamic Movement took over running Um al‑Faḥim in 1989, the inhabitants have experienced great improvements in rubbish collection, the sewage system, schools, and commercial spaces that until then had been 44  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

neglected by the state (El‑Taji 2008, 277). Further, the Movement is described as having offered a “commitment to communal services and provided the residents with an alternative that allowed them to take responsibility for the performance of their local authority” (El‑Taji 2008, 169). In competition with other political parties, “the Islamist lists capitalised on the widespread dissatisfaction with the Arab nationalist parties who were high on rhetoric on the national Palestinian level, but low in delivery of essential local services” (A. R. Peled 1994, 285). Whereas the previous mayor, representing the socialist Democratic Front for Peace and Equality, is described as having alienated the public with his poor and ­national-­focused management, Ṣalāḥ and the Islamic Movement based their leadership on the Movement’s long history of community involvement in the city (El‑Taji 2008). It can therefore be argued that the Islamic Movement in this case has contributed to the modernization of the public and is the basis of their e­ lectoral participation, in the same manner in which the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt had modernizing effects in terms of the movement’s relationship with individualization of their supporters, including its relationship with the traditional (religious) power institutions, its strategies for recruitment, and finally the practical politics of the movement (Utvik 2006). In sum, since the ­mid-­1980s, the Islamic Movement has been a constant and increasingly successful force in Palestinian Arab local governments, which is considered the most important level of government for Palestinian politics in Israel. It ran the municipality Um al‑Faḥim from 1989 to 2013 (when it chose not to run), where it has been credited with circumventing traditional clan politics, something neither the national parties nor other local lists had previously been able to do. Further, it is described as having good relations with both the state and other bodies representing Palestinian and Jewish Israeli citizens at the local political level (A. R. Peled 2001, 133). This observation was confirmed by Ali Haidar, the former codirector of Sikkuy (the Association for the Advancement for Civic Equality in Israel), who described being impressed by the Movement’s professionalism and ability to cooperate with other officials and organizations (Haidar Interview 2010)(this will be discussed in more detail in chapter 5).

conclusion As described in this chapter, the early seeds of the Islamic Movement were sown by young shaykhs in the 1970s upon their return to Israel after having studied at religious institutions in the West Bank, made available to them due to the Israeli occupation. The preachers focused on 45  |  The Emergence of the Islamic Movement in Israel

religious education among Sunni Muslims in Israel. At this early stage of the development of the Movement, some Islamists established the paramilitary Family of Jihad. After a few attacks on Israeli Jewish commercial property and Palestinian secular cultural institutions, its members were imprisoned in 1981. Among those imprisoned was Shaykh ʿAbdallah Nimr Darwīsh, later to be recognized as the founder of the Movement. Under his leadership, and after his release from prison in 1983, the Movement grew from local religious activism into a countrywide grassroots movement with socioeconomic organizations that cater to local community needs. Beginning in the ­mid-­1980s, the Movement entered the local political scene, which constitutes the most important platform for Palestinian politics in Israel and where the Movement soon became a force to be reckoned with. The Movement’s success in local politics challenged both the traditional Palestinian clan style of politics and the secular Palestinian political parties, presenting an alternative based on volunteerism and religious revivalist ideology that was seen as uncorrupt and untainted by association with Israeli political parties or other control.

46  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

c h a pter two

The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel m i n or i ty di l em m as i n the je w ish sta te

I

n may 20 1 0, i was sitting in haifa planning interviews and events to attend over the next two weeks while on fieldwork when I turned on the TV and saw the news about the boarding of the Turkish Mavi Marmara ship by the Israeli military. This boat was part of a flotilla on the way to Gaza to break the siege, and aboard were the leaders of both branches of the Islamic ­Movement—​­Shaykh Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, leader of the Northern Branch, and Shaykh Ḥammād Abu Daʿābis, leader of the Southern Branch. The news reports stated that Ṣalāḥ had either been wounded or killed. Other reports started coming in about the police and military sending reinforcements to the areas around Um al‑Faḥim, the town where Ṣalāḥ lives and where the Northern Branch of the Movement is headquartered, and roadblocks were mentioned. There was nervousness in the air among Israelis, who feared the reactions of the Islamic Movement’s supporters and the general Palestinian community that may turn angry, and from Palestinian citizens, who were anxiously awaiting confirmations about the safety of one of their most prominent leaders. The speculations about the potential protests and violence that might come were discussed across the news media. Few Israeli news outlets even mentioned that Shaykh Abu Daʿābis was also onboard the ship. In the end, it turned out that Ṣalāḥ was alive and that a Turkish activist who resembled him had been killed. After being brought to land, the two Islamist leaders were arrested and sentenced to house arrest by a court in Ashkelon.

47

The Islamic Movement in Israel split in 1996 due to a disagreement over whether or not to participate in national elections. It has since had two branches, one referred to as the Movement of Shaykh Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ (commonly called the “Northern Branch”) and the other the Movement of Shaykh Darwīsh/Ṣarṣur/Abu Daʿābis (after the current leader, commonly called the “Southern Branch”). Since 1996, the latter has had representatives in the Israeli parliament, the Knesset. The “Northern” and “Southern” terminology refers to the locations of the towns in which the first leaders of the two branches (Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ and ʿAbdallah Nimr Darwīsh) live in the so‑called Triangle, an area in central Israel primarily inhabited by Palestinian citizens of Israel; it does not represent a real geographical division of the branches among Palestinian citizens. This chapter focuses on why and how the split occurred and on the consequences the split had for the Movement and its supporters. As such, it discusses the dilemma shared by all Palestinian activists in Israel: whether to act from inside the institutions of the Israeli state and society or from outside these institutions, or to use a mixed approach, in their activities aimed at improving their predicament. This is then naturally also a discussion about the nature of Israeli democracy. While analyzing the differences and similarities between the leaders of the two branches, this chapter also discusses the polarizing “radical” versus “moderate” terminology generally applied in Israeli academia and media to the Northern and Southern branches respectively. The main argument here is that this polarizing description of the two branches is misleading and simplistic. First of all, this terminology does not in any way inform the readers about the actual conduct of these Islamist movements but implies a degree of unspecific threat or problematic behavior, as discussed in the introduction. Second, the question is to which context the assumed threat(s) is ­related—​­to the Islamist ideological of these branches or to the Israeli state and society, or both? In other words, is the terminology applied to describe the differences between the branches in terms of their Islamist interpretation and methodology, or in terms of their relationship with the Israeli state system? It seems to me that in this case the focus of the application of its terminology is the latter, and I therefore argue that a more enlightening way to describe the two branches is as “pragmatic,” since both make compromises in relation to the state system they function in, and also because they find the source of this pragmatism in their Islamist ideology. As for the differences between the branches, I argue that the Southern Branch is best described as “integrationist” vis‑à‑vis the Israeli state system, not as regards its Zionist ideology, whereas the Northern Branch 48  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

(increasingly after 2013) can be described as “isolationist” in its relationship with the Israeli state and society. While appreciating the description of a movement with internal room for diversity, these two pragmatic branches have more in common with each other than that which separates them as regards their relationship with the Israeli state and society, including their commitment to nonviolent activism; their attempts to ensure their activism complies with Israeli law; their participation in local elections, which means that both branches interact with Israeli state institutions and use the democratic tools available to them; their participation and cooperation in organizations representing Palestinian citizens in Israel, such as the High Follow‑Up Committee and the National Committee of Heads of Arab Local Councils; and their participation in Israeli organizations such as the Forum for Jewish and Arab Mayors. Therefore, I contend that presenting the two branches of the Movement as polar opposites gives the wrong impressions, since their practice and stance on their Israeli context bear more similarities than differences.

the split of a movement In 1996, the leaders of the Islamic Movement, and its local representatives in all Palestinian towns, villages, and cities inside Israel, gathered in the Movement’s National Consultative Assembly (Shūrā) headed by the Movement’s founder, Shaykh ʿAbdallah Nimr Darwīsh, to discuss whether or not to participate in national elections for the Knesset. According to Mustafa, this council was made up of the shaykhs in the Movement, around fifty in total, and comprises the second level of leadership below the leader of the Movement. It is followed by the General Conference that is composed of the heads of the Movement’s associations and committees, and below that is the local leadership that are elected representatives of towns and villages making up the fourth and last level of the Movement’s ­decision-­making structure (Mustafa 2011). Recollections of this meeting vary among the sources interviewed. According to one source associated with what became the Southern Branch, the majority was in favor of participation in national elections (M. Shehadeh Interview 2010). However, in my interview with Muʿādh Khaṭīb, son of the deputy leader of the Northern Branch and t­hen ­director for external relations at the Meezan Center, a human rights center associated with the Movement, he claimed that the vote was rigged and that many new faces came to the meeting alleging that they represented various villages and 49  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

towns, but in fact their presence was requested by the Southern Branch in order to bolster the numbers of those voting for participation (M. Khaṭīb Interview 2010). Below is a description of the meeting provided by Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur, the former leader of the Southern Branch and ­then ­member of the Knesset for this branch: With a slight difference, the results favored the participation in the parliamentary elections under a unified list. The leadership met in Shaykh ʿAbdallah Darwīsh’s house, and we vowed to carry out the decision, and this was declared by brothers Rāʾd and Kamāl in radio interviews the next morning. However, shortly afterward, we were surprised by four members from the ­twenty-­seven members of the regional Shūrā Council, led by Shaykh Rāʾd Ṣalāḥ, who announced their split from the Islamic Movement. They claimed that they objected, not to the principle of elections decided by Shūrā, but on some procedural issues related to managing negotiations with the other Arab parties. What shocked us most is that the four brothers published a statement similar to coup statements on the pages of “the Voice of Truth and Freedom” newspaper, the IM’s newspaper at the time. They announced a “Reform Revolution,” through which they took over all the relief, press, scientific and financial societies and institutions they had been charged with managing by an Islamic Movement leadership decision. They even used the same name the mother movement had, ‘The Islamic Movement.’ These moral violations were like [a] black scourge had occurred to the movement’s loyal people, leadership, members, and supporters. However, in the mother movement, we decided to be patient and hope that God would bring the brothers back to their senses again, so we could quickly end this black chapter of the daʿwa, but all attempts from 1996 to this day to dissuade them have been repelled. There was no reason for this split, but I believe that some extremist elements from outside the country pushed for it, rather than being neutral, working on rapprochement and unification in an area that can only tolerate unity between Islamists. Our loss because of this split was great, whether at the level of ­intra-­relations between the members of one Islam or at the level of public opinion, which no longer saw the awakening that had split on itself as a role model. (Ṣarṣur 2008)

50  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

the ­p ro-­p articipation faction The official reasoning presented by ʿAbdallah Nimr Darwīsh, the leader of the Movement in 1996, in favor of participation in national ­elections was that there is room for a political compromise to be made with ­non-­Muslim actors, if this constitutes the local context in which politics is conducted (Aburaiya 2004, 449). As the Movement’s founder, Darwīsh argued that the Islamic Movement in Israel should, according to sharīʿa, be able to engage in national politics if that is the best way in which to promote and protect the interests of the Palestinians in Israel. As stated in the 2007 Ruling: The Islamic Movement differs from other Arab parties when dealing with the parliamentary elections on two issues: first, according to our methods, political work is part of a large group of activities that have one goal: appealing for Allah (God), building the human and the good society and the protection of the land and the identity. As a result, there is no contradiction between our policies and the parliamentary work and the Movement’s activities. Second, what makes us different from others is that we have a message that goes beyond the political goals of all political parties: we have a project that we believe is the path to our and the nation’s revelation. When we get involved in politics, we do not forget our goals. Thus, politics in this sense is part of a comprehensive legal understanding under the slogan, “Wherever the Muslims interest is, lies God’s law.” (High Council for Legal Opinion 2007, 4)

The 2007 Ruling continues by stating: 1. As Islamists, we cannot be silent about what our society is going through because of the racist Israeli policies. Fieldwork and daʿwa [the idea of spreading Islam or improving an Islamic lifestyle among individuals and society at large], in addition to municipal and parliamentary work, are tools that put the Islamic Movement side by side with other initiatives that confront ignorant politics, whether on the Palestinian or Israeli stages. 2. ­Inter-­societal relations are mostly dependent on mutual interests. This leads to adjusting our ideological and principled stands within our societies. This requires us in the Islamic Movement to occupy representative and service positions, from which we can legitimately propose the Islamic solution to our masses. 51  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

3. We are a part of the blessed Islamic awakening in the world, which achieved many victories everywhere through channels of participation. So why would we not follow suit? 4. Refraining from political work will instill the wrong idea among the masses, such as Muslims’ inability to take responsibility. This includes the claim that Islamists are not involved in anything but purely religious tasks and are not capable of doing anything else. (High Council for Legal Opinion 2007, 5)

Mixing religious and political arguments, the 2007 Ruling draws comparisons with the Muslim Brotherhood and Islamist groups in Pakistan, Malaysia, and Turkey. The Southern Branch also mentioned Islamist groups in Jordan, the Rafa Party in Turkey, and Islamists in Sweden, who in 1995 formed an alliance with the Swedish Socialist Party (Rekhess 1996, 2). Additionally, the Southern Branch relied on the historical precedents of the Prophet Muḥamad’s cousin, Jhafar Ibn Abli Talib, who lived peacefully in ­non-­Muslim Abyssinia for twelve years. This success is based on the ruler ensuring the minority’s rights to practice their religion and the minority’s obedience to the law of the land. Furthermore, the 2007 Ruling mentions the legacy and support of international ulama, including Ḥasan al‑Bannā, Imām ʾAbū ʿAlī al‑Mawdūdī, al‑Shaykh ʿAlī al‑Khafīf, al‑Shaykh Mannāʿ al‑Qaṭṭān, al‑Shaykh Yūsif al‑Qarḍāwī, al‑Duktūr Muḥammad ʿĀdil ʿAbd‑l‑Qādir Abū Fārsī, al‑Shaykh ʿAbāssī Madanī, and al‑Duktūr Salīm Bahansī. According to Rekhess, the Southern Branch obtained a fatwa from Shaykh Taha al‑Barakati, director of religious guidance and preaching at the al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf mosque in Mecca, which stated that Muslims are allowed to participate in the Knesset elections if they vote for Muslim candidates (Rekhess 1996, 2). By participating in national elections and consequently in the national assembly (the Knesset), the 2007 Ruling further argues, the Movement can object to laws that contradict sharīʿa; fight against corruption and oppression; fight for socioeconomic equality; utilize the freedom provided by parliamentary immunity of its representatives; strengthen the Islamic Movement vis‑à‑vis its opponents; hold ministers to account by parliamentary questioning; and affect legislation by withdrawing votes in parliament. In the conclusion of the ruling, it states that there is no clear argument for or against participation and that this is an issue of ijtihad (interpretation of the Holy Scriptures). It concurs that legal opinions on the issue differ, and it states that “participation must be directed by interests and the Islamic Movement, allowing for participation, must review these interests every now and then for the purpose of evaluation and ­decision-­making” (High Council for Legal Opinion 2007, 8). 52  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Another explanation for the decision to participate in national elections and become part of the parliament is strategy and ­protection—​­some argue that Darwīsh wanted to protect the Movement by giving it political legitimacy (Hroub 2002, 142). This was especially necessary at this point in 1996 after Israel had assassinated Yahya Ayyash, a leader of the Qassam Brigade, the militant wing of Ḥamās, in December 1995; in retaliation, Ḥamās arranged ­suicide-­bomb operations in Israel, including several bus bombings, killing nearly sixty Israelis. These events led to more pressure on the Movement in Israel from the Israeli authorities, and by entering national elections Darwīsh wanted to dissolve some of this pressure. Since the split in 1996, the Southern Branch has participated in national elections and has fielded representatives to the Knesset under the list name al‑Qāʾima al‑ʿarabiyya al‑Muwaḥada (the United Arab List), known by its Hebrew acronym Ra’am (Reshima Aravit Me’uhedet). This is a joint list with other parties representing Arab Palestinian citizens of Israel. In the 1996 and 1999 elections, the partner was al‑Ḥizb al‑Dimuqraṭi al‑ʿArabī (the Arab Democratic Party), known by its Hebrew acronym Ma’da (Miflaga Demokratit Aravit). In 1996, the list gained four of the 120 members of the Knesset, and in 1999 this list gained an additional fifth representative. Prior to the 2003 elections, this alliance dissolved, and the Southern Branch ran alone, securing only two representatives. Then, in 2006, the Southern Branch ran together with ʾAḥmad Ṭībī’s al‑Ḥaraka al‑ʿArabiya Litaghiyyī (the Arab Nationalist Party in Israel) and gained four representatives; this was repeated in the elections in 2009 and 2013 (Knesset, n.d.). With four seats it became the largest Arab Palestinian list in the Knesset, compared with the nationalist National Democratic Assembly and the l­eft-­wing coalition Democratic Front for Peace and Equality. In February 2021, I asked Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur about the reasoning for participating in the Knesset on a list with other political ­non-­Islamist parties. He responded that the Southern Branch never intended to participate in Knesset elections alone and that it was always the plan to run together with the other parties representing this constituency. Ṣarṣur based his views on Islam: The essentially Islamic movement project, especially the ­socio-­ political, is a unitary project that calls for cooperation and solidarity among all. This project is the realization of her realistic Islamic civilizational discourse that sees ­politics—​­as defined by scholars and ­jurists—​­as “a situation in which people are closer to good than to corruption.” This vision is based on the Qur’anic guidance that, in order to build human architecture, faith and social [relations], the necessity of cooperation [is needed], as the Almighty said: “And 53  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

cooperate in righteousness and piety, and do not cooperate in sin and aggression.” Confronting the policies of discrimination and racism, preserving identity, and challenging the destructive Zionist project, undoubtedly, falls within the framework of cooperation on righteousness and piety in order to repel sin and aggression, and it is that righteousness that stands against corruption. (Ṣarṣur Email 2021)

In the March 2015 and September 2019 elections, the Islamic Movement’s representatives ran on the Islamist United Arab List that participated as part of the Joint List with the three other parties representing Palestinian citizens; this, and the elections in 2019 and 2020, are addressed in chapter 6. Significantly, representatives of the Southern Branch admitted that they were disappointed by their inability to make any changes to the political system after having joined the Knesset. Both Kāmil Rayān and Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur stated in conversations with this author that, in hindsight, they did not think that the Islamic Movement’s presence in parliament had made much of a difference for their constituencies. In 2008, Rayān described participation in the Knesset as “a temporary measure to a permanent conflict, not a fundamental solution to an ideological or historical crisis” (Rayān Interview 2008). That same year, Ṣarṣur elaborated on this issue as follows: I must really confess to you before I came to the parliament, I thought more able to defend the question of “what are the benefits of being part of the parliament?” You know that there are people from among our population inside Israel who oppose standing for parliamentary elections because they do believe that parliamentary elections enhance the ugly face of what we call the “Israeli democracy.” But we can’t do anything inside the parliament. We cannot move these mountains from one place to another because the Israeli policy is deeply rooted in the ideology, deeply rooted in the mentality of the Jewish people. It is a matter of psychology. It is not a matter of laws and policies. So, without changing the psychology of the Jewish vast majority inside Israel, believe me, [only] little changes, small changes, limited changes might be made. (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008)

Rayān also used the metaphor of mountains: “Unfortunately, they are the majority, but their behavior, fear and actions are those of a minority. The point of challenge for us, and I imagine for every Palestinian, is a feeling 54  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

that he has rights. When a person understands that he has the right, he can ­challenge the mountain” (Rayān Interview 2008). Deapite these misgivings, Rayān and Ṣarṣur both also said that they considered it important to retain the parliamentary positions of the branch and to continue to voice opinions and protests in the Knesset. According to Ṣarṣur, a primary aim of being present in the Knesset is to relay a message to the Jewish Israelis: There is no alternative for you but to accept us. We are here. We were here. And we will go on living here. And we will never quit the parliament. Whether you like that or you do not like that. Whether you love it or you do not love it. We are a part of this country. You have really to decide that you accept this reality and you are ready to live with this reality. Going on living in a confrontation in the parliament will never serve what you always say or speak ­about—​ ­coexistence. Coexistence is really based on mutual respect. Without mutual respect I do not think . . . ​that we, the Arab population, may raise the white flag . . . ​may submit and so on. We go on struggling within the limitations of your law. And we hope one day that our cause will come to a certain kind of solution. (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008)

the ­a nti-­p articipation faction The main argument presented by Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ and those advocating against participation in national elections has to do with the ­non-­Muslim character of the Israeli state. This has two implications: From a religious point of view, they argue that the Movement should not participate in a political system that is not based on sharīʿa (the Islamic codified law); and from a political point of view, they argue that participation in these elections, with resulting representation in the Knesset, would force them to accept the Zionist character of the state. This was (and remains) unacceptable to Ṣalāḥ and his followers, as it would force the Movement to swear allegiance to the state and to its ( Jewish) symbols and (Zionist) agenda (Aburaiya 2004). Furthermore, they argued that it would make the Movement dependent on government resources and thus provide the state with control over its activities. As such, participation in national elections would weaken the Movement’s unique contact with the people by “making it just like the other Arab parties in the Knesset” and “party politics itself constitutes ‘dirty business’ that would inevitably divide the Muslims in Israel” (Aburaiya 2004, 450). According to another observer: 55  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

Some radicals further argue that the sharīʿa specifically prohibits a Muslim minority ruled by a ­non-­Muslim majority to take part in the procedures of governmental elections. If such participation were forced on the Muslims [they] must perform Hijra (emigrate), they maintain. Hijra, as interpreted by these Islamists, means restricting activities to the municipal sphere and avoiding parliament. (Rekhess 1996, 3) Ṣalāḥ repeats this reasoning every time there is a national election in articles published in the Movement’s newspapers and on its websites. To further segment its stand, the Northern Branch enlisted support for its position from ­well-­known Islamist leaders outside Israel and obtained fatwas from senior leaders such as from Shaykh Muḥammad Abu Fāris ( Jordan) and also Shaykh Yūsif al‑Qarḍāwī (Egypt), who has resided in Qatar since the early 1960s. In our conversations during ­2008–­2013, the leaders of the Northern Branch confirmed being unhappy about the split, but they still drew the line at national elections. Ṣalāḥ’s deputy, Kamāl Khaṭīb, explained further that he thought the Israeli government wanted the Islamic Movement to join the elections in order to boost its image as a democracy, and he said he refuses to be what he considers a “fig leaf”: Israel was, in fact, interested in the entry of the Islamic Movement into the Knesset. It sought to make the Islamic Movement a bridge to connect with other Muslim peoples. This would contribute to the normalization of relations between Israel and the Muslim and Arab peoples. In addition, another of the benefits of our entry into the Knesset would be to beautify Israel’s ugly face, as if it is in actuality a democracy. (K. Khaṭīb Interview 2008)

Khaṭīb’s statement on this topic indicates that this leader has a clear idea as to what he thinks about Israel’s ­self-­identification as a democracy and, in his view, its use of its Arab Palestinian citizens to provide an impression that does not match his or his constituency’s experience of the realities of the political system in Israel. In academic analysis, as discussed in the introduction, Israel’s claim to be a democracy has been analyzed and labeled with different terms, such as “ethnic,” referring to a compromised democracy that actively and openly works for the interest of one ethnic group, in this case Jewish (Smooha 1990; 2002; Rouhana 1999). Another is “ethnocratic,” which considers Israel to be a (colonial) settler society based on e­ thno-­nationalism (­Zionism) that has created an “ethnic logic” that subsequently results in the creation of stratified e­ thno-­classes (Yiftachel 1999). Other academic observers 56  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

have described Israel as a nondemocratic majoritarian state (Y. Peled and Navot 2005), whose primary issues are, by another academic, identified as the continuous struggle over the main character of the state (Peleg 2007). In this perspective, Khaṭīb’s analysis and political position indicate that a large part of this constituency feels that it is not even worth trying to influence the state from within its existing institutions and that it is better for the Islamic Movement to stay as distanced as possible while taking care of its constituency to the best of their abilities. In addition to not wanting to play any role in what many Palestinian citizens of Israel consider the theater of Israeli democracy, Khaṭīb also emphasized the importance of maintaining the independence of the Movement and its institutions in the ­self-­reliant society system constructed across the country when he explained why he does not consider it appropriate for the Movement to join the Knesset: The Islamic Movement primarily concerns the service of our people through associations that we established, and these associations set up institutions all over the country. For example, this place we are in here [i.e., a building in Kafr Kana] is a complex in which there is a public library for the residents of the village and a kindergarten and nearby we have a new elementary school. We have a clinic, ambulances, and a sports club for karate and for football. This exists in many Arab villages. We seek to serve our people through the establishment of these institutions, and this is what Shaykh Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ called for. I am sure he told you about what is called a “­self-­ reliant society,” that is, we do not expect to cry on the doorsteps of the ministries. We seek, with the abilities of our people, to build our own institutions to maintain our identity. (K. Khaṭīb Interview 2008)

It is puzzling that Khaṭīb argues that the furthering of a s­elf-­reliant society is part of the reasoning for not participating in Knesset elections, because both branches consider themselves to be working in accordance with the same approach of s­elf-­sufficiency. As I discussed in a previous article (Rosmer 2012a), the ­self-­reliant society approach is not unique to the Islamic Movement in Israel but is also a key feature of most Islamist movements and is adopted from the strategy of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. Similar to the “parallel Islamic sector” in Egypt, as characterized by Wickham (Wickham 2002), the Islamic Movement in Israel constitutes a conglomerate of ­semi-­independent institutions and organizations that foster Islamization from the bottom up. As in the Egyptian case, these include mosques built 57  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

and run by the Movement, as well as a diversity of Islamic voluntary associations and organizations (Wickham 2002). It might also seem puzzling that the Northern Branch continued to participate in local elections until 2013 despite its rationale for not participating in national elections. As explained in chapter 1, the local governmental political level is important for Palestinian citizens not only because it provides many necessary services (including social services, water, sewage, garbage disposal, road maintenance, public gardens and parks, health care, education, and cultural and sports facilities) but also because it is the most important channel for social and political development among Palestinian citizens of Israel. At the local level, Palestinian citizens can directly influence their own lives and decision making in their communities, compared to their negligible ability to influence anything on the national level as n ­ on-­Jewish citizens. Significantly, only Palestinians participate in local elections in Palestinian towns and villages; thus this is an ­Arabic-­language process, with Arabic electioneering posters featuring representatives from and of the Arabic constituency. Observers visiting a Palestinian town or village during periods of local elections might be surprised to find that it does not look or feel like being in Israel because all communication is in Arabic and there are few signs of the Israeli flag or other state symbols. Taking control of their local councils and politics is seen by many Palestinian citizens of Israel as a way of resisting state control by using the tools available to secure access to m ­ uch-­needed funding, facilities, and services. The Northern Branch has participated in local elections mostly in Um al‑Faḥim and ran the city for an uninterrupted period between 1989 (the first time it participated there) and 2013. Many inside and outside the branch were surprised that the leadership decided not to run in 2013 even though it was expected to win. Some commentators have argued that the Movement did not participate in these elections because of its “radical” nature and, as such, saw nonparticipation as a form of political protest, while other commentators saw the withdrawal as a sign of the Movement weakening (Hilou 2013). In a meeting with several leaders of this branch, they disclosed that a reason for deciding not to continue participating in local elections was their assessment that the complexities and difficulties associated with running a municipality had become “too costly”—​­it was no longer worthwhile to be associated with the negative images of practical politics or for the Movement, not its politicians, to be blamed for unpopular political decisions (Ṣalāḥ and Leaders Northern Branch Interview 2013). Therefore, the leaders decided to step back from the political scene in Um al‑Faḥim and focus on ­socio-­religious activism. According to Ḥasan Ṭabāja, a lawyer for the 58  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Northern Branch, by not participating in local elections, the branch attracted more supporters since it was no longer anyone’s political opponent (Ṭabāja Interview 2021). He explained that the branch wanted to be an umbrella for all, rather than being part of a divisive political system based on competition that still had negative associations related to family and clan preferences. Local elections occur every five years. The first time the Islamic Movement participated in these elections in Um al‑Faḥim was in 1989 when it secured eleven of the fifteen seats; in 1993 it secured ten of the fifteen seats; in 1998 and 2003 the Northern Branch secured eleven of the fifteen seats; and in 2008 it secured eight of the fifteen seats (Mustafa 2021). In 2013, the incumbent mayor, Khaled Hamdan, had previously been elected to that role on the Islamic Movement ticket in 2008, and he nevertheless wanted to run again, despite the decision of the Northern Branch not to participate. He left the Movement in order to do so, winning the election of 2013 with 58.5 percent of the votes (Hilou 2013). As for the reasons cited against participating in national elections in 1996, in addition to the reasons given by the Northern Branch, it has also been suggested to me by leaders of the Southern Branch that there was a ­connection between the Northern Branch’s decision and the refusal of the Palestinian Islamist movement Ḥamās to participate in the 1996 elections for the Palestinian Legislative Council in the occupied Palestinian territory. The document titled 2007 Ruling about Participation in the Israeli Parliamentary Elections (High Council for Legal Opinion 2007), produced by the Southern Branch, was provided to this author by Ṣarṣur (then a member of the Knesset for the Southern Branch) by email communication in 2008. In this document it is stated that both Ḥamās and the Northern Branch decided to refuse to participate in elections based on the belief that as Palestinian Muslims they should not take part in a ­non-­Muslim system that denies the legitimacy of Islam and that is directly or indirectly colonizing Palestine. For Ḥamās, the very existence of the Palestinian parliament was an outcome of the Oslo Accords, an agreement that involved the PLO’s recognition of the State of Israel. Thus, the leaders of Ḥamās argued at the time that participating in Palestinian parliamentary elections meant recognizing Israel and its ongoing occupation and colonization of Palestinian land. Following this reasoning, for the Northern Branch, participation in the Knesset elections would mean recognition of the s­ame—​­Israel’s colonization and occupation of Palestine. This reasoning is backed by Hroub, who wrote that “Ḥamās felt it was totally unreasonable for Islamists to participate in the Israeli Knesset elections, while it [i.e., Ḥamās] boycotted the s­elf-­government elections” (Hroub 2002, 143). This suggests that the Northern Branch may be more influenced 59  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

by Ḥamās than is the Southern Branch. Ghanem and Mustafa in fact assert that “the principal disagreement between the parliamentary and extra parliamentary movements is related to the peace process between the Palestinians and Israel” (As’ad Ghanem and Mustafa 2014, 347). Nasasra concedes and argues that the most significant factor in the split was their disagreement over Oslo and the Palestinian cause, and not only their differing views about participation in Israeli national elections. Criticizing the Oslo Accords, Shaykh Ṣalāḥ had argued that Oslo meant the end of the right of Palestinian refugees to return to their homes. Therefore, the outcome of Oslo was a disaster for the Palestinians since it delayed resolution of the files on Jerusalem and the refugees, and at the same time granted Israel a free hand in Jerusalem, to continue its ongoing Judaization policies. According to leading figures in the Movement, the disaster of Oslo was that the PLO leadership decided that they no longer cared about the Palestinians in Israel and supported the view that the Palestinian Arab minority should take part in Israeli politics. The anger of the Islamic Movement’s leaders reached its peak when Arafat signed the Oslo Accords, thereby widening the gap between the two schools of thought. The struggle for dignity and protecting refugees’ rights remained significant political goals for the Movement. It seems, from the Movement leaders’ narratives, that Arafat played an important role in pushing the Palestinians in Israel to take part in Israeli politics, and thereby contributed to the split of the Islamic Movement. The PLO had thought that by taking part in Israeli politics, the Palestinians could put pressure on Israel from the inside. (Nasasra 2017, 56)

Israeli authorities and media have since the 1990s targeted the Islamic Movement in Israel for its alleged close ties with Ḥamās and the latter’s use of violence as a method to oppose and challenge Israel as an occupying power. Both the Islamic Movement in Israel and Ḥamās “vehemently” deny such ties, according to one longtime observer who suggested that “any researcher who follows the course Ḥamās has taken in the last few years in its relations with the Islamists in Israel or monitors [Israeli officials’] reactions and security measures will conclude that it is farfetched to postulate an organizational link between the two” (Hroub 2002, 141). Avoiding direct links between the Islamic Movement and Ḥamās holds logic from the point of view of the Islamists in Israel, since any such relationship risks jeopardizing their 60  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

organizations and grassroots activism, as well as their political engagement in local politics. For its part, Ḥamās appears satisfied with the support it gets from Islamists in Israel in the shape of charitable donations, in particular support for orphans and families in need; media coverage, whereby it is described as the defender of Palestinian rights; and political support, such as pressures the Islamists in Israel as citizens can bring to bear on the Israeli authorities (Hroub 2002, 141). One notable example of the latter is the Israeli government’s decision to allow the return to the occupied Palestinian territory of 413 Ḥamās and Islamic Jihad members who Israel had deported to Lebanon in 1992, in response to a sit‑in tent protest in front of the Knesset by Islamic Movement members. It seems fair to assess that, even though there may be no direct organizational ties, these movements communicate about strategies vis‑à‑vis Israel directly or indirectly.

consequences of the split: competing organizations As described in the introduction, it is difficult to assess the exact size of the two branches after the split. There are no records of membership, and election results do not assist, since the Northern Branch participated only in local elections in a significant way in Um al‑Faḥim and not in national elections. The main consequences of the split for the Movement itself have been negative, as experienced by the supporters, leading to what is here labeled “mirror institutions” that have caused competition and dissatisfaction among supporters. In my conversations, the Movement’s leaders on both sides of the split downplayed their differences and emphasized cooperation and similarities. To illustrate, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ minimized the significance of the difference between the branches and noted that in the Hebrew media the branches are presented as opposites: The press exaggerates things so that it will have some material. This is not strange or new, but in fact, we have many things that bring us together that are principles we have agreed upon. . . . The main difference is the political position, not the fundamentals. (Ṣalāḥ Interview 2008)

By “the fundamentals,” Ṣalāḥ is referring to the goals of the Movement to protect Palestinian land, religious sites, and people, which are shared by the two branches. As described by Ṣalāḥ: 61  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

The Islamic Movement aims mainly to build an Islamic way of life in the people’s understanding and daily behavior, so that the Islamic lifestyle becomes a strong basis through which we preserve our identity and affiliations, as well as through which we build our organizations with overall goals for all the matters of our Arab Palestinian society inside the Green Line. This, in itself, would give us the components to maintain our presence in our land, to preserve the holy sites, the present and future for us and for our children, and remain steadfast in the face of all the policies of the Israeli establishment that has practiced injustice against us since the beginning of the Nakba of Palestine until today, and has even exceeded that with an explicit and public call for our [population] transfer, particularly these days. (Ṣalāḥ Interview 2008)

In recent years the idea of a population transfer has been promoted particularly by the ­right-­wing politician Avigor Lieberman, leader of the Yisrael Beitenu Party, and is a method to deal with the idea that Palestinian citizens constitute a “demographic threat” to the Jewish state (see more on this in chapter 4). In practical terms, after the split the two branches are effectively providing the same services in mirror institutions in villages and towns across Israel. For example, before the split there was one organization, the Al‑Āqṣā Association, working to document and preserve Palestinian religious sites inside Israel and in East Jerusalem. Established in 1989 and in 2008 directed by Kāmil Rayān, the Al‑Āqṣā Association aims to protect existing religious sites, in particular al‑Āqṣā mosque in occupied East Jerusalem, and to fight for the right of Muslims to gain access to religious sites that have been ­demolished and/or appropriated by the state. As explained in chapter 1, the state took over the governance of the religious services provided by Muslim judges and courts in 1948, and this included control over the Waqf in Israel, the communal land and properties of the Muslim community that were until then managed by the leaders of this religious community. The state used this as an opportunity to take control over as much ­Waqf-­controlled and -­owned land as possible inside Israel (see chapter 3). Despite being legally bound by Israeli law to protect all holy sites in the country, critics allege that it has failed to protect those of Muslims and also, in some cases, those of Christians. To complicate this further, since 1967 Muslim holy sites in ­Israeli-­occupied East Jerusalem have remained under the control and responsibility of the Jordanian authorities in accordance with an agreement between those two countries. The Islamic Movement was not satisfied with Israel’s management 62  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

of the holy sites inside Israel or with Jordan’s management of the holy sites in East Jerusalem and therefore established its own association to address these issues by its own means (more details on this in chapter 3). A few years after the split of the Movement, in 2000, a new Al‑Āqṣā Association was established by the Northern Branch with the same focus and agenda as the original association. It is not clear to what degree the two associations cooperate or compete, but Rayān, representing the Southern Branch, appeared critical of the establishment of the Northern Branch’s association (Rayān Interview 2008). Clearly, having two such similar organizations produces competition over supporters and funding, thus causing rivalry at institutional and grassroots levels. Another example of mirroring is the “Al‑Āqṣā Is in Danger” festival. The most well known such festival was arranged every year until 2015 in Um al‑Faḥim by the Northern Branch. This festival draws thousands of supporters from all over the country who come to listen to speeches about various dangers that face the ­third-­holiest mosque in Islam. The dangers cited by organizers include archaeological digs near the mosque arranged by Israeli settler groups; the agendas of ­right-­wing Israeli politicians (such as Ariel Sharon, who took a provocative walk in the area around al‑Āqṣā in October 2000); and the activities of Israeli military forces in and around the Mosque compound (such as the forces that accompanied Sharon) (Dumper and Larkin 2012) (more details in chapter 4). In 2009, the Southern Branch organized a similar festival in Kafr Qasim called “Jerusalem First” that, according to ʿĀdil Bdair, drew several thousand Palestinians from across Israel (Bdair Interview 2010). Again, this shows how the split and the resultant mirror activities are causing competition over supporters and funding. Yet another example is the split of the organization established by the Movement to support school pupils and university students. Ībrahīm Ḥijāzī, the national manager of al‑Kalām, explained that, previously, Islamist university students at most campuses were represented by one association related to the Movement on the Arab Student Committee that represents Palestinian citizen students at Israeli universities (Ḥijāzī Interview 2012) (more about this committee in chapter 5). This association belatedly split into one related to each branch only in 2000. After its split, Eqraa (“Read”) is the association for youth of the Northern Branch, and al‑Kalām (“The Pen”) is the association for youth of the Southern Branch. The situation at the Hebrew University in Je­rusalem took a different trajectory: there, Islamist students were, until 2008, represented by the group called al‑Risāla. According to ʾUsāma ʿAbās, the last elected leader of al‑Risāla, this group was initially formed by Muslim students independently and then became associated with the Movement (ʿAbās Interview 2009). In 2008, Eqraa split from al‑Risāla and formed 63  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

its own group. ʿAbās lamented that it was a shame that students left al‑Risāla and explained that the students had tried to keep the group united, noting that the leadership of both branches let them choose for themselves. Notwithstanding, eventually the pressures became too much and the group split. Most student activists interviewed expressed regret and frustration over the split in the Movement and said they would prefer a united Islamic Movement. The students interviewed for this project were children when the split occurred in 1996 and have therefore grown up with it. They are familiar with the cause of the split and generally expressed supporting their branch’s approach vis‑à‑vis participation in elections for the Knesset. However, when it comes to the student level of activities, and on a day‑to‑day basis, they do not appear to consider the reason for the split to be relevant. Most ­Islamist-­oriented students and activists go to activities arranged by both Eqraa and al‑Kalām, regardless of their branch affiliation. In terms of individual relationships between students, student interviewees describe the split as being a nonissue. Similar to leaders and activists in the parent movement, they emphasized that they have more in common than not and that they agree on the most important issues related to religion and the national cause of the Palestinians. As one activist explained: “In actuality, we are the same, but we disagree on the [participation in] Knesset. . . . It is more [political] trends and not Islamic thoughts or principles that we differ on” (Female Student Interview 2012). Muḥamad Farrān, the national manager of Eqraa, explained students’ discomfort with the split further: Working with two Islamic voices at the universities is uncomfortable for students. . . . For the leaders [of the Movement] it may not be as difficult, but for the students it is very embarrassing [because] while speaking to other students . . . ​they always try to hide it or find room for cooperation and participation, showing the split is not acceptable to students and detrimental to Islamic student activism. (Farrān Interview 2012)

According to Farrān, this is the reason why the two branches worked together at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem under the umbrella of al‑Risāla until as late as 2007. He also stressed that, as the manager of Eqraa, he tries to coordinate with the national manager of al‑Kalām. Such cooperation is described as successful sometimes and less so at other times, depending on the issues. Overall, one consequence of the split is that Palestinian Islamists in Israel often face a choice between the mirror organizations of the two branches. For their part, the two branches are competing for active supporters. In addition, 64  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

they compete for financial support for their institutions and events from local and international donors. From the perspective of the ­supporters—​ ­here exemplified by student activists and their l­eaders—​­the split is considered unfortunate and detrimental to the Movement, as it steals attention and resources that could have been used to achieve their shared goals. The younger generation seems to think that, as a minority and a religious movement, they and their cause would be better served by unity, and thus the split is considered by them to make them and the Movement look weak. ʿAbbās Zakur, who previously represented the Southern Branch in the parliament, described the Movement as a whole as having lost the public’s support of, and trust in, the shaykhs due to the split (Zakur Interview 2008). He further claimed that there had been a withdrawal from a religious way of life among the Movement’s supporters since 1996, presumably due to this development. There are no other data to verify these claims; however, this sentiment was echoed in my interview with Muhamad, who is a parent activist with HILA, the Israel Committee for Equality in Education (more details about HILA in chapter 3). He described the Southern Branch as “political” and the Northern Branch as “religious.” “Ṣarṣur [former leader of the Southern Branch] is a politician. Ṣalāḥ [­then ­leader of the Northern Branch] is a holy man” (Muhamad, HILA parent activist Interview 2010).

leadership styles, rhetoric, and reception By investigating the leaders of the two branches and their choice of responses to the same political events, we also learn indirectly about how the two branches view each other. Their actions can be seen as directed not only at the Israeli government, state institution representatives, and the Israeli Jewish public, but also as corrective of and an oppositional stance against the position of the other branch. The pragmatic style of the Southern Branch was first modeled by ʿAbdallah Nimr Darwīsh, the founder and first leader of the Movement. He has emphasized nonviolence and political struggle to achieve rights for Palestinian citizens while staying within Israeli law. As described in chapter 1, Darwīsh was imprisoned as the alleged spiritual leader of the militant group Ūsrat al‑Jihād (Family of Jihad) in the early 1980s. However, Darwīsh does not acknowledge that he was the spiritual leader of any such group (Benchorin 1988). He described the acts of this group, including the burning of ­Jewish-­planted forests, as the acts of frustrated youths and a few bad apples with wrong intentions. After having been the leader of the Islamic Movement from its inception, 65  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

Darwīsh stepped down following the split in 1996 and, until passing away in 2014, was considered to be the spiritual leader of both branches, although he remained closer to the leaders of the Southern Branch. Darwīsh was perceived as accessible, and to a degree acceptable, to the Jewish public through his participation in Israeli public life. He gave interviews in Hebrew to Israeli newspapers and participated in interfaith and other kinds of events. Darwīsh was also present several times at the Israeli president’s annual iftar (breaking the fast during Ramadan) meal for Palestinian leaders in Israel. In a portrait article published in the newspaper Maariv in 1988, he is described as a new type of religious leader with good communication skills in Arabic, Hebrew, and English, someone who is open to discussions and is open to being challenged (Benchorin 1988). The article describes Darwīsh as a man who leads a simple life in an austere home. He is further described as someone who talks about the dialogue between Islam and Judaism and the similarities between them. He did not hide the fact that his dream is of an Islamic state, but he considered this to be an unrealistic goal in a Jewish majority state. Similarly pragmatic, Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur, who became the leader of the Southern Branch in 1996 after Darwīsh’s retirement, emphasized that in practical terms the goals of this Islamic Movement cannot be to establish an Islamic state, because it exists within the Jewish State of Israel (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008). Therefore, the goals of the Movement are not focused on the state level but rather on the Muslim community at the local level. In the interview in the Hebrew newspaper Ma’ariv, Darwīsh explained that he draws on the philosophy of Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. for his nonviolent approach (Benchorin 1988). When asked about the Iranian revolution, he replied that in accordance with his approach, he believes in revolution through peaceful means, such as cultural, social, economic, and political actions. He opposes violence and he did not consider Khomeini an honorable leader after the war with Iraq. Even though Darwīsh has become known for his integrationist position vis‑à‑vis Israel, he is also clear in his views on the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip and the unequal treatment of Palestinians in Israel. In the interview with Maariv, he described the latter as a situation of oppression and humiliation, stating that it is impossible to have coexistence between workers and ­masters—​­between the weak and the strong. When asked by the journalist if he wishes that his Arab brethren will win a war over Israel, he admits that this is the ultimate dilemma but that for him justice is the most important; anyone who wants to “have his cake and eat it too,” meaning anyone who wants historical Palestine for themselves today is not truly seeking peace (Benchorin 1988). 66  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Darwīsh’s advocacy of a nonviolent approach has been consistent, as exemplified in an interview with Time magazine in 2001, where he described his view of Islam: “Islam is a religion of love, cooperation and for the good. The origin of Islam is peace, stability” (Hamad 2001). The interviewer asked about his position on jihad, suicide bombers, the 9/11 attacks, and Muslim hatred of America. Darwīsh replied that martyrdom is a greater thing than being killed in war and that too many radical Muslims and others focus too much on the military side of jihad, neglecting the other and more numerous ways of jihad as a struggle for God. He stated that he is against suicide, whatever the reason, because is it forbidden in Islam, and he cautioned that there were Muslims, Jews, and others in the World Trade Center and explained that Palestinians understand very well the anger that the American people feel because of these attacks, since Palestinians suffered from a lot of destruction by the Israeli military. However, he noted that Palestinians do not feel that other people get angry on their behalf when Palestinian lives are destroyed. When asked about presumed Muslim hatred of America, Darwīsh replied: There is a misunderstanding. Muslims and Arabs do not hate America or the Americans. He who claims that is a liar. Arabs and Muslims hate the unfair policies of the American administrations. There is a big difference between those who hate a policy and those who hate a people. (Hamad 2001)

The message in this response is similar to Darwīsh’s message to the Jewish Israeli public: we do not hate you, but we do hate (many of ) your government’s policies. Testifying to Darwīsh’s emphasis on interreligious and communal dialogue, Darwīsh was an adviser to the Palestinian Adam Center for Dialogue of Civilizations; in 2008, he participated in the World Congress for Rabbis and Imams for Peace in Paris; in 2007, Darwīsh condemned the Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s Holocaust denials when appearing at the Global Forum for Combating A ­ nti-­Semitism in Jerusalem (Barkat 2007); and in 2008 Darwīsh participated in the Peace Sukkah set up in Akka/Akko as a place for its inhabitants to meet after the riots in that city. (A sukkha is a hut built as part of the Jewish holiday Sukkot commemorating the wandering of Moses in the Sinai Desert.) The riots began when religious Jews reacted to what they considered to be a violation by Palestinian individuals of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar. Typically, on Yom Kippur the entire Jewish community comes to a standstill as secular and religious Jews refrain from leaving their 67  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

homes except to go to the synagogue. When a Palestinian citizen of Israel drove through a Jewish neighborhood in order to pick up his daughter, he was attacked by religious Jews for violating the holy day. In the turbulence that ensued, several Palestinian houses were torched, and damage was done to ­Palestinian private properties and businesses in Akka/Akko. Darwīsh said this to the people present and to the press at the meeting: Bless all those who have come here to help and strengthen the coexistence in Akko, but those who have come from outside ­Akko—​ ­whether they be big or small, bearded or ­not—​­those who have only come to incite and come between the residents are an unwelcome presence in this city. We have learned from you, Akko, how to live together. (Einav 2008)

Compared with Darwīsh, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, who has been the leader of the Northern Branch since the split in 1996, generally causes more controversy among Israeli Jews for his outspoken and uncompromising stance on Israeli policies, a stance that simultaneously makes him popular among Palestinian citizens of Israel. Ṣalāḥ was born in 1958 in Um al‑Faḥim, and his father worked as a police officer. He was the mayor of this town from 1989, representing the Islamic Movement until stepping down in 2001. Ṣalāḥ’s contrasting image among Jewish and Palestinian Israeli citizens is due to a combination of his vocal protests and uncompromising language; the media attention he receives due to his style and messages; his refusal to speak publicly in Hebrew or to be interviewed by Israeli Jewish media; his grassroots activism in general (and especially in occupied East Jerusalem and on al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf/ The Temple Mount, which has led to several confrontations with Israeli police); and, finally, the added effect of the attention paid to this branch by Israeli politicians, including members of Knesset, and police and security services, who have raided and closed many of its institutions several times, as well as arrested and imprisoned its leaders on the basis of various accusations. During his time as leader of the Northern Branch, Ṣalāḥ has been taken in for questioning by the police and arrested and imprisoned repeatedly, which adds to his image of being “radical” on the one hand and uncompromising on the other. According to Ṣalāḥ, he has also been injured in interactions with authorities, as in 1998 when he was hospitalized after being beaten by police during a protest, and in 2000 when he was wounded by a rubber bullet during the October demonstrations at the beginning of the Second Intifada (Dakwar 2007). In terms of interactions with Jewish Israeli society, Ṣalāḥ keeps a distance. His message as a Palestinian Islamist leader can be described as unapologetic. 68  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

To illustrate, when I asked him about the potential of a o­ ne- or ­two-­state solution, his reply was as follows: The logic that you are talking about now is the rationale that destroyed the Palestinian people. . . . The logic of the options that you are putting forward now; you are stating this as a researcher and I do not blame you, but this rationale and the process of dealing with our Palestinian people in the past years was practiced according to this logic, and it destroyed the process which destroyed our Palestinian people’s endeavor for this simple reason, and this is my conviction, because all the time, our Palestinian people have been suffering. This suffering is escalating, and the parties are asking our Palestinian people, “What do you suggest?” “Do you agree to the establishment of two states for two peoples?” while the suffering of our Palestinian people continues. There have been agreements such as the Oslo agreement, and the Oslo agreement has been destroyed and our Palestinian people have remained under the imposed logic of choices, “What do you choose?” Then there was the incursion of the Israeli establishment in the West Bank where it is Judaizing the West Bank and Jerusalem. While this logic continues to be proposed to the Palestinian people, “What do you, Palestinian people, choose?”. . . What I mean is that until now, there is still a continued persistence in the Zionist scheme. Palestine’s Nakba began in 1948 and until now, the consequences of this Nakba are still taking place for our Palestinian people. The Nakba of Palestine did not occur once, the Nakba of Palestine is still happening, and the Israeli side continues to strive to double the size of this Nakba and its effects. Naturally, our Palestinian people continue to suffer. On the other hand, there is still the traditional question that is posed to our Palestinian ­people— “What do you, the Palestinian people, choose?” (Ṣalāḥ Interview 2008)

I followed up, asking: “So, the question of ­one- or ­two-­states is unrealistic from your point of view?” His reply: It is not an issue of being unrealistic. What has destroyed its realism is the Israeli occupation of the West Bank, Gaza Strip and Jerusalem, and what is destroying its realism for us is the continuing Israeli policy of oppression. It is like you are seeing us falling into the sea and ask us how not to get wet. How will I respond? We are falling into the water, and you ask us to give a solution on how not to get wet. (Ṣalāḥ Interview 2008) 69  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

Ṣalāḥ went on to explain that, in addition to Palestinians being the victims of Israeli policies, the government also targets the initiatives established by the Islamic Movement (Northern Branch) to combat discrimination and improve the socioeconomic and cultural lives of Palestinians in Israel: We, as the Islamic Movement, came in and said that we do not want to play a role that masters crying; we just want to change and build a decent life for ourselves. We established organizations despite all the Israeli injustice. We started to build many projects; educational, health, child and mother care, preserving the land and holy sites to help our Palestinian people in their humanitarian tragedies; the orphans, widows, the sick and education. We did all this, what was the outcome? The result we received was from the Israeli side, when in 2003, they led a wide campaign of arrests of a large group of members of the Islamic Movement. According to the understanding of the Israeli establishment, since we were engaged in all these deeds, we were accused of supporting terrorism. We were put on trial for this, our institutions were closed down and remain closed, and a group of us were imprisoned for years. There is no justification for our imprisonment, except for the background that I already explained, and we have stated [as much] in court. We said you are accusing us of things we do not deny, we acknowledge that we have established humanitarian institutions; we confess that we provided relief aid, we admit that we have built schools and hospitals. (Ṣalāḥ Interview 2008)

In interviews and speeches, Ṣalāḥ and his deputy, Kamāl Khaṭīb, use candid descriptions of the occupation and Israeli policy toward Palestinian citizens, a way of speaking that cements their position of being seen as courageous and outspoken among their supporters but as uncompromising and u ­ nacceptable among the Jewish Israeli population. Ṣalāḥ uses terminology such as “the occupying establishment” to describe the State of Israel and “­Palestinians of 1948” when he talks about Palestinian citizens of Israel, thereby clearly distancing himself from the state and its Jewish citizens (who tend to use the term “Israeli Arabs” to describe Palestinian citizens). As e­ xamples of such terminology, on the business card of the external relations director for the Northern Branch, the address was “The Palestinian Interior 1948,” and on another business card presented to me in 2008 the title was “Spokesman for the Islamic Movement in Palestine ’48.” Due to his prominence, Ṣalāḥ’s participation in and speeches at demonstrations and other events are reported in the Israeli press. Cementing his 70  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

image, Israeli newspapers often use terms such as “saboteur,” “­hard-­liner,” “­anti-­Israeli,” “­anti-­Semitic,” “extremist,” and “militant” to describe Ṣalāḥ. For example, in an article in the Jerusalem Post, senior terrorism expert Ely Karmon, from the Institute for Counterterrorism in Herzliya’s Interdisciplinary Center, described Ṣalāḥ as “a saboteur who seeks the destruction of Israel as a Jewish state. His incitement is very severe, and his movement is very dangerous” (Lappin 2010); another article in Ha’aretz was titled “Ṣalāḥ Calls for ‘Intifada’ against Temple Mount Excavation” and reported that Israel Radio claimed to quote Ṣalāḥ as saying “Israeli history is drenched in blood” and “they want to build their Temple while our blood is on their clothing, on their doorposts, in their food and in their water” (Lis 2007); and in the article titled “Radical Muslim Leader Freed from Jail after Five Months,” it is stated that “the shaykh who heads the Islamic Movement’s Northern [B]ranch is known for his ­hard-­line stance against Israel” (Khoury 2010). Ṣalāḥ’s prominent position among Palestinians and controversial image among Jewish Israelis is also due to his grassroots activism in Israel and especially in occupied East Jerusalem. Ṣalāḥ is frequently present on the ground in East Jerusalem, active in fighting for Palestinian control of the al‑Āqṣā mosque and partaking in demonstrations against demolitions of houses and evictions of Palestinian families from homes misappropriated by settlers. His regular presence in Jerusalem has earned him the informal titles the “Shaykh of al‑Āqṣā” and the “Palestinian Mayor of Jerusalem” (Dumper and Larkin 2012, 44). His image among Palestinians is that of a leader who meets the people, participates in their local protests, and supports their daily struggles. One observer described him thus: Admired by Islamists, secular Muslims and Christians alike, Ṣalāḥ is the nearest thing the country’s Palestinian citizens have to a spiritual leader. This, and his increasingly fiery warnings that the government cannot be trusted to protect al‑Aqsa and the Dome of the Rock mosques, has made him deeply unpopular with the Shin Bet security service and Sharon. (Cook 2003)

As mentioned, being targeted by Israeli police, security services, and Israeli politicians has perpetuated the image of Ṣalāḥ and the Northern Branch as the respected opposition to Israeli policies among Palestinians and as a dangerous “radical” among Jewish Israelis. As Ṣalāḥ mentioned in the quote above, in May 2003 he and four other members of the Northern Branch were arrested and charged with “supporting ‘terrorism’ by raising money for West Bank Islamic charities claimed by Israel to be linked to Ḥamās and for contacting a ‘foreign agent’ (i.e., Iran)” (Dakwar 2007, 67). 71  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

In fact, both branches of the Islamic Movement have contributed donations to charities in Gaza associated with or linked via personal relations to Ḥamās. According to a news article, ­twenty-­three thousand orphans are reported to be registered in the database of the Islamic Movement’s Committee for Rescue and Humanitarian Aid (Salaime 2016). The organization operates based on monthly donations from individuals who are supporting orphans or children of single parents. As long as the Israeli state suspected any direct relations between Ḥamās and this branch, it continued to look for other bases on which to take legal actions against the Northern Branch and to use these indirect relations against its leader. To illustrate the history and controversy of such contributions, in 1996 an Islamist NGO in Gaza published a small summary of its activities that included tributes to organizations that have supported its work. Among these were five organizations from ­Palestinian-­dominated localities in Israel and two from the United Kingdom and the United States. Those in Israel were soon investigated by Israeli intelligence agencies, and some of them were subsequently closed, and since then “the Israeli government prohibited foreign Islamic NGOs from providing support to Palestinians in the occupied territories. . . . On this occasion Israel made use of a law from the period of the British mandate, which enabled them to prohibit the activities of institutions deemed to constitute a threat to state security and public order” ( Jensen 2009, 31). The trial relating to the 2003 charges lasted more than a year and a half; the Iran charges were dropped, and a plea bargain was reached whereby Ṣalāḥ was sentenced to three and a half years in prison. His release was celebrated at the large football stadium in Um al‑Faḥim at an event that I attended and described in the introduction, where tens of thousands of Palestinians from all over the country gathered to welcome this national leader (Observation by Author 2006, Um al‑Faḥim). When questioned about the charges, Ṣalāḥ replied that “to this day I do not know the real reason for my arrest and imprisonment” (Dakwar 2007, 69). He speculated that it might have been a combination of dislike for the Northern Branch activities among Palestinian citizens, rehabilitation and other work on the al‑Āqṣā compound, and open humanitarian support to Palestinians in the occupied Palestinian territory. Accusations by state actors that Ṣalāḥ and the Northern Branch do not recognize the legitimacy of the State of Israel and of inciting violence have continued. Following the October 2000 events, when thirteen Palestinian citizens were killed by Israeli police during demonstrations in support of Palestinians based in the occupied Palestinian territory, Israeli authorities set up an official inquiry commission (the Or Commission). In its report, the Or Commission criticized the police for using live ammunition and recommended improving the general status and situation of Palestinians in 72  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Israel (Adalah 2012a). It also mentioned specifically individuals it considered somehow responsible for the events, including politicians in governmental positions, such as ­then ­prime minister Ehud Barak, as well as Palestinian community leaders. This is the section about Ṣalāḥ: The commission determined that the charges against Sheikh Ra’ed Salah were proven, including that, as the head of the northern branch of the Islamic movement, the mayor of Umm al‑Fahm and a public personage, he was responsible in the period prior to the October 2000 events, including in ­1998–­2000, for the transmission of repeated messages encouraging the use of violence and the threat of violence as a means to achieve the goals of Israel’s Arab sector. In addition, it was proven that he held mass assemblies and used propaganda to incite the public and create an inflammatory atmosphere regarding the sensitive issue of the Al Aqsa mosque. It was also proven that, as head of the northern branch of the Islamic movement, the mayor of Umm al‑Fahm and a public personage, Sheikh Salach was responsible in the period prior to October 2000, including in the years ­1998–­2000, for the transmission of messages that negated the legitimacy of the existence of the State of Israel and presenting the state as an enemy. It was further proven that, as head of the northern branch of the Islamic movement, the mayor of Umm al‑Fahm and a public personage, Sheikh Salach was responsible, prior to October 2000, for the transmission of messages regarding an allegedly planned massacre at Al Aqsa on Sept. 29, 2000. He was also responsible for comments praising the outbreak of serious and widespread violence that occurred in the Arab sector at the beginning of 2000, before the events had ended. In all this, he had a substantial contribution to provoking tempers and the violent and widespread outburst that took place in the Arab sector at the beginning of October 2000. Considering that Sheikh Salah does not fulfill any official public position, after resigning as the mayor of Umm al‑Fahm, and his position in the movement is voluntary, the commission saw no need to give a recommendation regarding Sheikh Salah. (Or Commission Report 2003)

The Or Commission also sent “warning letters” to the Palestinian leaders it had mentioned in the report (including two Palestinian members of the Knesset at the time, Azmi Bishara and Abd al‑Malik Dahamsha). In the 73  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

letter, Ṣalāḥ was accused of “supporting violence as a means to attain the goals of the Arab sector in Israel” and “denying the legitimacy of the existence of Israel” (Dakwar 2007, 67). In response to these warnings, the Palestinian community in Israel reacted with outrage at what they considered to be an example of “blaming the victim,” especially as no one had been charged with the killings of their fellow citizens (Adalah 2012a). In a statement, Adalah questioned the role and methodology of the Or Commission: While the Commission did not make any recommendations regarding the Arab public representatives who were warned, its conclusions raise factual and legal questions. The Commission determined that it did not arrive at any recommendations since these individuals do not hold any official public positions. This determination strengthens Adalah’s legal argument, raised repeatedly throughout the proceedings that the role of commissions of inquiry is to specifically investigate the executive ­branch—​­individuals who hold official positions, those who are ­decision-­makers and those who implement official decisions. Thus, from the beginning, the Commission should not have issued warning letters to the Arab public representatives. In addition, the Commission’s investigation of the Arab representatives centered on their political positions; this is not the role of an official commission of inquiry. It should be noted that the Commission did not investigate “Jewish inciters” who hold official positions, while it did investigate the Arab representatives who do not hold official positions. It is Adalah’s opinion that blaming elected Arab leaders, as well as the High Follow‑Up Committee for the Arab Citizens in Israel, could increase racism against the Arab national minority in Israel. (Adalah 2003)

A similar critique was voiced by Israeli academic Yoav Peled: The demonstrators were asserting their right as Israeli citizens to protest the actions of their government in the occupied territories, while the police attempted to deny them that right and erase the difference between citizen and ­non-­citizen Palestinians. Viewed in this light, the Or Commission, an organ of the judicial branch, can be said to have sought to restore ethnic democracy. It sought to do so by undertaking a dual move: on the one hand, it catalogued in great detail and with surprising forthrightness the history of discrimination against the citizen Palestinians, particularly in the area where most 74  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

of their grievances have been concentrated: land ownership and use. It also severely criticized the behavior of the police and of the government as a whole during the “October Events.” At the same time, however, the Commission also accused the citizen Palestinians, and especially their political and religious leaders, of behaving improperly in airing their grievances (although this accusation fell short of recommending that any of these leaders be investigated for unlawful activity). In other words, while relating the continuous and incessant violation of the Palestinians’ citizenship rights by the state, the Commission demanded that they adhere to their obligation to protest this violation within the narrow confines of the law. (Y. Peled 2005)

Since 2003, Ṣalāḥ has been detained and arrested by the police for his activism in Jerusalem on several occasions. He often participates in demonstrations against what he considers to be threats to religious sites in the city or against the treatment of the city’s Palestinian residents. In one instance in 2007, he was arrested on charges of having incited people to violence while protesting excavation work in the Old City of Jerusalem. Typically, the Northern Branch sets up tents from where they organize their protests and meetings. This time, as on different occasions, the court ordered Ṣalāḥ to stay outside of the Old City in Jerusalem (where the al‑Āqṣā mosque is located), and he was prohibited from appearing in Jerusalem in the company of more than eight people (Lis and Stern 2007). Ṣalāḥ generally responds to accusations of incitement by claiming that he is being misquoted, wrongly translated, and/or that his words are taken out of context. In my interview with the Israeli journalist Itamar Inbari, the Arab affairs reporter for Ma’ariv at the time, Inbari described his admiration for Ṣalāḥ and the Movement for resisting Israeli discriminatory policies against Palestinian citizens and for assisting this group directly (Inbari 2008). However, he despaired over what he described as the “blood libel” by Ṣalāḥ, referring to a speech in 2007 in which Ṣalāḥ is said to have referenced images from the ­anti-­Semitic libel. The blood libel has its origin in medieval Europe and was a superstitious belief or idea used against Jews, accusing them of using blood from Christian children in the unleavened Passover bread. It often resurfaced in periods when Jews were persecuted. The libel reemerged during the nineteenth century and again in the 1930s at the hands of the Nazis and has since remained a staple of ­anti-­Semitic propaganda. As such, this particular speech, or the Hebrew translation of it, caused much outrage among Jewish Israelis. Inbari explained that this reference disappointed him and made 75  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

him feel very uncomfortable and described his reaction to these utterances as feeling betrayed by someone he considered a reliable and thoughtful opponent of Israeli policies toward its Palestinian citizens (Inbari Interview 2008). According to newspaper sources, Ṣalāḥ’s lawyer argued in his defense that “the words on the ­blood-­libel issue were open to multiple interpretations, including to Christian Crusaders killing children,” and the court therefore convicted him of incitement to violence, but not of racist incitement (Bob 2014). In 2010, Ṣalāḥ was accused and found guilty of spitting at a police officer during an earlier demonstration, for which he served five months in prison in 2010 (Khoury, Hasson, and Lis 2010). Ṣalāḥ denies having spat at the officer. In April 2014, Ṣalāḥ was convicted of “obstructing police duty . . . ​for attempting to prevent a bodily search being performed upon his wife at A ­ llenby Bridge crossing” (Khoury 2014b). Ṣalāḥ’s lawyer said the case itself was proof that he was persecuted, saying that the “relatively trivial offense was handled by the district ­prosecutor—​­rather than by a police ­prosecutor—[which] strengthened that assertion” (Khoury 2014b). Ṣalāḥ was given a travel ban that prevented him from entering Jerusalem and the West Bank, and from travelling abroad, until December 2014 (Baruch and Dvorin 2014). In April 2016, after appealing the conviction from 2014 (see above), Ṣalāḥ was sentenced by the High Court to nine months in prison for “incitement to racism and violence” based on the speech he had given in 2007. His original sentence of eleven months was reduced, reportedly because he had not repeated the offense since 2007 (Yahav 2016). According to a media report, of the three judges on this case, Judges Elyakim Rubinstein and Anat Baron won the majority vote over Judge Salim Joubran: Judge Rubinstein wrote in his ruling that “the defendant is a well known figure in the Arab world and in Israel; he is one of the religious leaders of Muslims in Israel. . . . His speech was given to a large crowd, furious and agitated . . . [and] it appears this sermon was organized and planned in a volatile public atmosphere in light of the claims Israel wanted to change the status quo in the al‑Aqsa mosque. There is no reason to split hairs to determine these things. The objective of this speech was to incite to racism.” On the other hand, Joubran wrote in his opinion that “there is great importance to the diversity of the crowd and their ability to understand the meaning of (the sermon). I believe that the fact the defendant did not address a specific crowd, willing and politically motivated, but to a general crowd from all over the world, reduces the specificity of the call, and 76  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

as a result reduces the possibility that this call could bring someone to carry out an act of violence.” “As a crude analogy,” Joubran continued, “just as general calls for world peace do not necessarily bring about world peace, I believe that general calls for a ‘global intifada’ do not necessarily incite to violence.” (Yahav 2016)

This case was also part of the reasoning for the arrest of Ṣalāḥ in London when he was on a speaking tour in June 2011. Unbeknownst to Ṣalāḥ, he was banned from entering the United Kingdom, and due to mistakes made by the British immigration authorities, he was able to enter the country despite the ban. The reason provided by the United Kingdom’s t­hen ­home secretary, Theresa May, for the ban was that Ṣalāḥ’s presence in the United Kingdom was not “conducive to the public good” and could endanger national security. This conclusion appears to be based on a­ nti-­Semitic statements Ṣalāḥ is alleged to have made in a poem in 2003 and on two different occasions in 2007 and 2009. Ṣalāḥ denied these charges and claimed that the statements were either mistranslated from Arabic, taken out of context, or that he never said them. Rather than consent to deportation, Ṣalāḥ opted to stay and fight the legality of the home secretary’s decision through the British justice system. He won his appeal in April 2012 in the Upper Immigration Tribunal. The judgment of the tribunal stated that the detention had been “entirely unnecessary” and that Ṣalāḥ’s appeal had succeeded “on all grounds” (Winstanley 2012b). According to the ruling, the home secretary had “acted under a misapprehension as to the facts” and had been “misled” with regard to the content of the poem authored by Ṣalāḥ (Winstanley 2012a). Furthermore, the tribunal judge found that the home secretary had taken “irrelevant factors” into consideration in deciding to institute the travel ban on Ṣalāḥ. Ṣalāḥ received quick and broad public support from Palestinian politicians, such as Hanin Zoabi, member of Knesset for the National Democratic Assembly, who wrote a letter in the Guardian arguing that by arresting Ṣalāḥ “the UK authorities support the persecution of Arab citizens of Israel” (Zoabi 2011); and member of the Knesset ʾAḥmad Ṭībī, who described the arrest as “baffling and undemocratic behavior by the British authorities” ( ­Jerusalem Post staff 2011). Upon returning to Israel, Ṣalāḥ received a hero’s ­welcome—​­not only from his associates and supporters in the Islamic Movement but also from secular and Christian Palestinian community leaders and politicians representing other parties, such as members of the Knesset Ṭalab al‑Ṣāniʿ (Arab Movement for Renewal) and Jamal Zahalka (National Democratic Assembly). The public demonstrations of support upon Ṣalāḥ’s return, and the declarations of encouragement and support Ṣalāḥ received from Christian and secular Palestinians during his ­ ten-­ month struggle 77  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

against deportation, indicate that Ṣalāḥ is perceived as an important national r­epresentative of Palestinians in Israel beyond the confines of his Islamist group. Ṣalāḥ himself was not allowed to make any public statements during the case, but he did pen an opinion piece published in the Guardian following his successful appeal (Ṣalāḥ 2012). In addition to describing the predicament of Palestinians in Israel, he emphasized that Britain not only has a general responsibility to uphold universal values, justice, and fairness, but that the state also has a particular duty to the Palestinian people because of its failure to uphold their rights, despite the reference made to such rights in the Balfour Declaration of 1917. He asserted: Britain enforced the first part of the declaration, which promised Palestine as a homeland for the Jewish people, but ignored the part that states: “It being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing ­non-­ Jewish communities in Palestine.” (Ṣalāḥ 2012)

More recent interactions between Ṣalāḥ and the Israeli police involve imprisonment for eleven months from August 2017, when he was accused of violating the law and inciting terror in speeches made in 2015 and 2017, after which he was placed under house arrest in a town near Umm al-Fahm, which he was not allowed to enter (Shaalan 2018). Events after 2015, when this branch was outlawed, will be further discussed in chapter 6. Adding to these cases involving Ṣalāḥ personally, the Israeli authorities’ actions against the Northern Branch organizations have contributed to its image as “radical” (for Jewish Israelis) and as “defiant” (for Palestinians). Judging by actions taken against the two branches, the Northern Branch seems to be more closely monitored by the Israeli authorities than its counterpart. For instance, its offices in Um al‑Faḥim have been raided and closed, and its newspaper, Ṣawt al‑Ḥaq ­wal-­Ḥuriyya (“Voice of Truth and Freedom”), has been closed down by administrative order several times following accusations of ­anti-­Semitic statements in a poem in 2003, and in the autumn of 2008, when documents and computers were confiscated by Israeli police, apparently as a result of suspicions that the Movement had been cooperating with Ḥamās (Stern and Ashkenazi 2008). In sum, the picture that emerges is one in which, in terms of rhetoric, the leader of the Northern Branch, Ṣalāḥ and his deputy, Khaṭīb, are considered to be confrontational in their speech when compared with leaders of the Southern Branch, who draw on Darwīsh’s compromising and less provocative model. Additionally, from my observations, the leader of the Northern 78  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Branch is quoted more often than Southern leaders in the Hebrew media, and the activism of this branch and its leaders, particularly Ṣalāḥ, is often a focus of the Israeli police. However, despite these differences, the leaders of both branches are equally outspoken in their critiques of the state and its policies. The differences in style and treatment have made Ṣalāḥ very popular among Palestinians and less acceptable, or unacceptable, among Jewish Israelis. Hence, Ṣalāḥ and the Northern Branch are described as “radical,” while Darwīsh and the Southern Branch are described as “moderate,” a polarization that disregards the similarities in their criticisms of the foundation of the State of Israel and of its policies, as well as their mirrored practices vis‑à‑vis their followers.

criticism, cooperation, and unity talks In terms of how the leadership of the two branches view each other, it is clear that, while they make efforts to show respect for each other in person and in public, their disagreement over the strategy chosen for interaction with the state and related organizations includes indirect criticisms of the other. The leaders of the Northern Branch implicitly criticize the l­eadership of the Southern Branch for being too lenient and cooperative with the state, while the Southern Branch implicitly criticizes the Northern Branch for not utilizing all the channels of opportunities provided by the state structure and its institutions to represent their constituency and struggle for their rights. However, both sets of leaders exert effort to maintain appearances of a united front vis‑à‑vis the state, as representatives of the Palestinian minority in Israel. Instead of appearing as outright adversaries, the leaders of the two branches have taken particular care to show respect and support for each other when this is deemed necessary. As Palestinians in Israel, they have a common, more significant foe that keeps them from encouraging their supporters to observe social divisions or to allow the split to consume the Muslim Palestinian community inside Israel. The interests of both branches in appearing to privilege ­inter-­Palestinian solidarity and appreciation for the broader communal struggle appear to trump any benefit that may be borne of emphasizing ideological and practical differences. Yet, the degree of cooperation within the Palestinian community is another issue of contention between the groups that is perceived to hinder reunification. In 2012, ­then ­deputy leader of the Southern Branch, Ṣafwān Frij, indicated that the Southern Branch was open to cooperating with secular and national parties and groups representing Palestinian citizens of Israel, as well as joining one list or party that represents all Palestinians in Israel 79  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

across religious and political divides. He implied that the Northern Branch did not espouse such openness (Frij Interview 2012). The Southern Branch became a partner in the Joint List in 2014, as discussed in chapter 6. However, in my interviews with Ṣalāḥ he suggested making the cross-­ denominational and nonpartisan High Follow‑Up Committee for Arab Citizens in Israel an elected body representing all Palestinians in Israel, showing that he is willing to cooperate across religious and ideological divides and thus indirectly countering Frij’s argument. The High Follow‑Up Committee was established in 1982 after the Lebanon War as an umbrella organization composed of “the heads of local councils; Arab Knesset members; members of the Histradrut [the General Organization of Workers in Israel] executive committee; representatives of the Islamic Movement and of Sons of the Village movement; representatives of the Arab student unions on university campuses and of the secondary school pupils’ organization; a representative of the national Arab parents’ committee; and representatives of Arabs living in the mixed cities” (As’ad Ghanem 2001, 252). It was considered to be the unofficial “parliament” of this constituency in the 1980s due to its broad representation (Asʻad Ghanem 2001). This committee was established by the national committee of Arab local council heads, which had been established in 1974 and whose focus was to “equalize the size of government allocations to the local authorities in the two sectors” (i.e., the Jewish and Arab sectors). The most significant public activities of the High Follow‑Up Committee took place in 1987 and are described as two successfully organized general strikes, including a protest for equality and against discrimination, as well as a Peace Day protest in support of the Intifada that broke out in the occupied Palestinian territory that year (Asʻad Ghanem 2001). The High Follow‑Up Committee is divided into subcommittees focusing on education, social conditions, and health, and the heads of each subcommittee are professionals in the relevant field. The High Follow‑Up Committee’s prestige declined in the 1990s for a combination of internal and external reasons, chiefly to do with the organization and methodology of the committee itself, as well as the inability of the committee to effect meaningful change (Asʻad Ghanem 2001). Its main internal problems are reported to have been disagreements among members and reliance on a method of consensus that paralyzed decision making (Asʻad Ghanem 2001). Externally, Ghanem explains how this ­collective leadership was weakened by the increasing political pluralization among Palestinian citizens during the 1980s (As’ad Ghanem 2001, 177). ­Despite this development, the fact is that the two main goals of this committee, peace and equality, are central to all the new parties and are not yet achieved. 80  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

The committee is still in existence, and in my interview with the deputy leader of the Northern Branch, Khaṭīb, he emphasized joint participation between the two branches and illustrated this with the fact that, notwithstanding his criticism of the Southern Branch’s participation in the Knesset, both branches comfortably sit together in the High Follow‑Up Committee (K. Khaṭīb Interview 2008). Kamāl Khaṭīb is still today a member of the committee as a public figure, since he no longer can represent the outlawed Northern Branch. According to Ṣalāḥ’s lawyer, Ḥasan Ṭabāja, the Northern Branch was, before it was banned in 2015, involved in efforts to increase the relevance of this committee (Ṭabāja 2021). They believe that this is the only body that should represent Palestinians in Israel and represent all with one voice vis‑à‑vis, but not as a part of, the institutions of the state. The Northern Branch wanted to expand the powers of the committee by establishing representative offices for the committee in Western countries, but they did not find support for their vision from the political parties representing P ­ alestinian citizens. Ṭabāja was also involved in setting up an organization called Friends of the High Follow‑Up Committee that would collect money from Palestinian citizens to make the committee financially independent. However, he lamented that the Palestinian political parties did not support this effort since they are not interested in increasing the power of a committee that they consider as competition (Ṭabāja 2021). In addition to sitting on the High Follow‑Up Committee together, both branches are represented in the Forum for Jewish and Arab Mayors (see chapter 5). In terms of actual cooperation between the two branches, the only joint activity is their work in the Hajj and Umra Committee (Bdair Interview 2010). This committee is composed of five people, three from the Southern Branch and two from the Northern Branch. According to ʿĀdil Bdair, mayor of Kafr Qasim for the Southern Branch, splitting the committee was suggested, but the representatives from the Southern Branch rejected this approach. In 2011, interviewees from both branches described the Movement as ­being in the process of reuniting. There have been earlier rounds of negotiations conducted among l­ower-­level representatives of the branches, but in this round the negotiations were led by the national leaders of each branch for the first time. Preceding these talks, the leaders of the two branches, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ and Ḥammād Abu Daʿābis, were both on board the Turkish Mavi Marmara ship that was part of the flotilla to break the siege on Gaza in May 2010. The Israeli military attacked and boarded the flotilla. The media reported that Ṣalāḥ had been wounded or even killed on the boat, and the atmosphere in Israel was one of ­nervousness—​­the Israeli police were so nervous they sent reinforcements to ­Palestinian-­populated areas throughout the 81  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

country, as they expected upheaval and possibly riots if the rumors turned out to be true (Cook 2010). There was general relief when it was reported that the dead person was a Turkish activist who looked like Ṣalāḥ, and the leaders of both branches of the Islamic Movement were arrested and sentenced to house arrest by a court in Ashkelon. ʿĀdil Bdair, a lawyer at Adalah, the Legal Center for Arab Minority Rights in Israel, and at the time the Islamic Movement candidate for mayor of Kafr Qasim, represented the leader of the Southern Branch, Abu Daʿābis, in court. Later that same day, I interviewed Bdair over coffee in his home in Kafr Qasim. He explained that he had managed to convince the court that Abu Daʿābis needed ten hours to travel home to Rahat south of Ashkelon, a journey that should take between one and two hours. Abu Daʿābis wanted more time in order to first travel north to Um al‑Faḥim with Ṣalāḥ to hold a joint press conference before returning home to Rahat. This was the first joint press conference held by the two branches of the Islamic Movement in Israel since it split in 1996. Later that day, Abu Daʿābis spoke on the radio and called for moves to reunite the Movement. This is how the ­high-­level reunion negotiations officially started. However, despite repeated talk of a reconciliation and reunification of the branches (Leading activist Northern Branch 2011), this never materialized. There are several reasons for this failing. Practically, negotiations were halted by Ṣalāḥ’s prolonged absence when he was placed under house arrest in Britain in June 2011 and chose to stay in Britain to challenge his deportation order, only returning to Israel almost a year later. The standstill created by Ṣalāḥ’s absence exposed and highlighted the difference in leadership culture between the two branches, demonstrating that the Northern Branch could not continue negotiations without Ṣalāḥ. Concerns related to l­eadership positions within a potentially reunited Movement were mentioned by several sources as some of the primary obstacles preventing reunification. In terms of succession, how would a potential leader of a united movement be chosen? There are many strong personalities involved who currently hold positions of authority in either branch, and they may not welcome abdication of their authority in order to facilitate a reunification. According to Frij of the Southern Branch, there are concerns about the different styles of leadership. Whereas the Southern Branch has regular elections for its leadership and has had three leaders since the split in 1996, the Northern Branch has had the same leadership since the split. As described in the introduction, the Southern Branch has developed a much more detailed organizational structure with a clear hierarchy that incorporates national and ­local-­level leaders, organizations operated by the branch, and the political representation in the Knesset: 82  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

1. The General Conference (assembly) of the Islamic Movement 2. The Shura Council of the Islamic Movement 3. President of the Islamic Movement 4. The General Administration of the Islamic Movement and the district administrative units 5. The Executive Office and the Political Bureau of the Islamic Movement 6. Institutions and associations of the Islamic Movement 7. The branches of the Islamic movement in the country and the institutions affiliated to it 8. The United Arab List Party (Ṣarṣur Email 2021)

The Northern Branch’s organizational structure is made up of two c­ ouncils,​ ­the Political Office and the Management Office. The latter is more important and made up of all local heads of this branch across the country. Countering the criticism from the Southern Branch, the legal adviser of the Northern Branch, Hassan Ṭabāja, argued that this branch could be described as more democratic than the Southern Branch: it knows the identities of the members of the local councils, and they all vote on all decisions. By contrast, according to Ṭabāja, the Southern Branch does not operate with membership lists of their local councils (Ṭabāja 2021). In an interview in February 2021, Ṭabāja told me that the branch was working on a constitution when it was outlawed in 2015 (Ṭabāja 2021). Ṭabāja explained that the branch was late in developing its organizational structure because it had focused on building its activities to assist its community. The draft version of this constitution states that a leader must be elected and can only sit for two periods. According to Ṭabāja, it was the intention of Ṣalāḥ to step down when a new leader was to be elected. Related to the issues of leadership and internal political cultures is the institutionalization of the two branches that, over the years, has crystalized and would be difficult to change. It would likely take great effort to deconstruct the duplicate organizations and activities, such as the two Al‑Āqṣā Associations described above. To date, reunification of the two branches has remained elusive. In the 2015 elections, the Southern Branch acted on its commitment to further cooperate with other Palestinian groups and joined the Joint List with other political parties representing Palestinians in Israel. Later in 2015, the Northern Branch was outlawed. Whether these political changes will act to cement the split of the Islamic Movement in Israel, or push it toward unification, only time will tell. Considering the similarities in goals, methodology, and repeated efforts at reunification, the polarizing description of 83  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

the branches within the Israeli academia and media seems misguided, as discussed below.

pragmatic integrationists and isolationists As established, there is no a­ greed-­upon definition of “radical Islam” or “radical Islamists/ism,” but these labels are often used to describe groups who promote and conduct violent actions in the name of Islam. Jihad is “the struggle” to follow God’s will, which originally has two connotations: for the individual Muslim to live a virtuous life, and for the “community to spread God’s rule and law through teaching, preaching and, when necessary, armed struggle” (Esposito 1994, 3­ 6–­37). There are three main manifestations ­ on-­Muslim of armed jihad: resistance to occupation or suppression from n powers; rebellion against regimes in countries with a Muslim majority (which is permissible against a Muslim ruler when the ruler is considered to be an apostate or does not rule in accordance with Islam); and, epitomized by the 9/11 attacks in 2001, a “global jihad” against the West and ­Western-­friendly regimes, which has been led by al‑Qaeda and fought largely through terrorist attacks against civilian targets (Utvik 2010, ­59–­60). “Moderate Islam” or “moderate Islamists/ism” are terms usually used to describe nonviolent groups that focus on reform (islah) through peaceful means. The main moderate groups are usually associated with the reformist Islamism of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, which Bjorn Olav Utvik labels as Īsl āḥ Īkhw āni, or the “Reform Brotherhood” (Utvik 2010, 74). Their approach historically has been to work slowly toward the reform of individuals and society through daʿwa, which refers to the “call” or “invitation” to a life of devotion and piety that adds the element of activism to the individual’s knowledge about Islam and performance of the religious rituals (Utvik 2010, 62). Ultimately, this approach is based on the view that Islam is central to the moral framework of society, and the aim is that this moral framework be reflected in the laws of the state (Utvik 2010, 48). In 1996, Elie Rekhess made the observation that “the Islamic Movement in Israel is deeply divided ideologically and politically and is in no way monolithic” (Rekhess 1996, 5). Rekhess describes the Northern Branch, which refuses to participate in national elections, as “radical” and describes the Southern Branch, which has representatives in the Knesset, as “pragmatic.” Alisa R. Peled also describes the Northern Branch as “radical” and the Southern Branch as “moderate” (A. R. Peled 2001, 121). None of them qualifies in any detail the reasoning for using this terminology; thus it falls to the reader to guess why and how it is applied. 84  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

The openly r­ight-­wing and more polemical Raphael Israeli called Um al‑Faḥim “the hub of Muslim fundamentalism in Israel” (Israeli 1999), described by another academic observer as out to prove: First, the Islamic Movement headed by Shakh Ra’aed Salah is a ­ ro-­Hamas faction and basically is a link to a larger threat of Islamic p ­radicalism–­violence–­terrorism against the state of Israel and the West. Second, the political development of the Movement, as well as of other Islamic Movements and Muslims in general, can be explained by deficiencies in the culture, the stifling restrictions of their faith. This culture, Israeli tells us, is “a shame culture [that] creates aggression” [p. 20] and violence. It is a culture based on the idea of Jihad and Islamic supremacy over other faiths that make it almost impossible for Muslims, particularly Muslim minorities like those in Israel and in Europe, to live peacefully in their “host countries” and “cultures.” (Aburaiya 2008)

Apart from these academics, as discussed above, Israeli Hebrew and English media also frequently use this terminology to describe the two branches (e.g., Times of Israel staff, n.d.; Gazzar 2008; Khoury 2011). Ghanem and Mustafa use a different terminology, arguing that, at an ideological level, the split signifies the making of two movements inside Israel and characterizes the Southern Branch as conducting a “politics of acceptance” and the Northern Branch as engaging in a “politics of difference” (As’ad Ghanem and Mustafa 2014). According to this argument, the Southern Branch’s instrumentalist use of the voting rights its supporters are afforded by citizenship in an effort to improve the situation of Palestinian citizens and empower them is juxtaposed against the Northern Branch’s focus on building an independent community and rejecting integration. Based on this, it is concluded that these two branches “are not partners with regard to the future of the Muslims in Israel, particularly in terms of relations between the State and the Muslim minority” (As’ad Ghanem and Mustafa 2014, 342). However, taking into consideration the attempts at reconciliation talks between the branches; their shared criticism of the state and its policies; their mirror organizations and practices, including engagement of the state’s legal system to combat accusations; and their shared experiences of threats by the state’s representatives, this ­conclusion—​­and not necessarily their ­analysis—​ ­seems too stark. As critiqued by al‑Atawneh and Hatina (al‑Atawneh and Hatina 2019, 105), the focus of previous studies of the Islamic Movement has used the prism of “radicalization,” thus missing the complexities and significance of the Movement on the grassroots and political levels as a result. 85  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

As argued above, I contend that describing both branches as “pragmatic” better reflects their approach to and conduct in the state and society where they operate. Both branches associate themselves with the “moderate” Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood and its particular type of Islamism. They are nonviolent and make efforts to ensure their activities and organizations operate within the legal confines of the framework of Israel. Furthermore, between the split in 1996 and 2013, both branches continued to participate in local elections and thus participated in the Israeli system of democratic representation, accepting state support for their institutions (at least at the municipal level). As described in chapter 1, local government is widely seen as the most important political arena in which Palestinians in Israel can exert direct influence over decisions affecting their own lives. Through their participation in local elections, holding positions in local councils, and running local councils and municipalities, both branches of the Islamic Movement have taken an active part in the political process in Israel and its democratic system of representation. This participation refutes claims in Israeli media that the Northern Branch and its leader, Ṣalāḥ, who served as mayor of Um al‑Faḥim from 1989 until 2001 when he stepped down, refuse to participate in Israeli democracy. An example of this claim is provided in an article from the Jerusalem Post published in 2010 (i.e., when the Northern Branch held the mayoralty of Um al‑Faḥim): In 1996, the movement split into two factions over the question of whether to participate in the general elections. The result was the creation of a more moderate Southern Branch, which is represented by Arab Knesset members. The Northern Branch, under Ṣalāḥ’s leadership, refuses to partake in Israeli democracy. (Lappin 2010)

When considering the nature of the Northern Branch’s opposition to participating in national elections and whether this stance indicates radicalization, it is important to remain aware that, even though the Northern Branch opposes participation in such elections as an organization, its leaders do not directly encourage individuals to boycott parliamentary elections. Not enough research has been done on the reasons why individual ­Palestinian citizens choose not to participate in national elections, and therefore it is ­impossible to reach conclusions on how much impact the policy of the Northern Branch (and the other groups who do advocate the boycott of national elections) has had on individual voters. Significantly, the Northern Branch is not the first or only group to shun national elections. The secular nationalists in the Sons of the Village 86  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

organization have boycotted national elections since the early 1970s, introducing the model of participating in local elections and governing Arab communities while boycotting national elections. Additionally, in 2001 the majority of Palestinian voters boycotted the separate elections for prime minister, which only 18 percent voted in. (In 1996, 1999, and 2001, the prime minister was directly elected separately from the Knesset, a practice that was abandoned after 2001.) The reasons cited for Palestinian citizens’ boycott in 2001 include disillusionment and disappointment after the harsh crackdown on demonstrations inside Israel and in the occupied Palestinian territory at the beginning of the Second Intifada, in particular the killing of thirteen unarmed Palestinian citizens by Israeli police and security forces in October 2000 (Adalah 2006). Adding a strong symbolic emphasis, the Northern Branch and Sons of the Village were joined by the Committee for the Bereaved Families (of the October events), who encouraged this boycott. Additionally, and perhaps surprisingly, the Arab members of the Knesset also supported boycotting the elections for prime minister. By not voting, most Palestinian citizens were expressing anger with ­then ­Prime Minister Ehud Barak, whose nomination had been secured by Arab votes in 1999 but who they did not feel had repaid his voters, and who was ultimately responsible for the October 2000 events. Palestinian citizens have since returned to the ballot box, but in lower numbers than before the 2001 boycott of the prime ministerial elections. In the 1999 Knesset elections, 75.2 percent of Israel’s Palestinian citizens voted, but in 2003 the percentage was 62; in 2006 it was 56.3; in 2009 it was 53.4; and in 2013 it was 56.5 (Wermenbol 2019, 5). This pattern changed in the 2015 elections when 63.5 percent voted, increasing the number of voters by 10 percent (Ben Solomon 2015a), an increase that is believed to be due to the attraction of the Joint List (see chapter 6). To understand the use of the “radical” categorization in Israel, it is important to study its application in context: Ṣalāḥ and the Northern Branch are not the first or only Palestinian representatives or organization to be categorized as radical despite eschewing political violence. Palestinian representatives who seem to challenge the state at any level or in any way are often categorized as radical, as argued by Rouhana, and any type of resistance to the ethnic dominance and privileges by Palestinian citizens is labeled “extreme” and thereby delegitimized (Rouhana 1999; see also the introduction). To illustrate, Hanin Zoabi, the first female member of the Knesset representing a Palestinian party, has often been called “radical” and “extreme” in Israeli media (see, e.g., Ahren 2012; Ziffer 2013; Karov and Yashar 2014; Soffer 2014). Zoabi was also on the Mavi Marmara flotilla boat that was stormed by the Israeli military. In response, she was punished by being stripped of her 87  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

parliamentary privileges, including use of a “diplomatic passport, government participation in legal fees and enhanced freedoms regarding international travel” (Miskin 2010). Zoabi also had to challenge a petition filed by a ­right-­wing member of the Knesset demanding that the Attorney General criminally indict Zoabi for participating in the flotilla (Adalah 2012b). The case was closed due to lack of evidence and legal difficulties. In this case, and in later instances when Zoabi has challenged Israeli policies, she has been described by Israeli politicians and media as a traitor. After the flotilla incident, Danny Danon, then a Knesset member of the governing Likud Party (and Israel’s representative to the United Nations at the time of writing), collected eleven thousand signatures in a petition calling to disqualify Zoabi, saying: “Her place is not in the Knesset [Israeli parliament] but in jail. Democracy must have its limits. . . . [Zoabi works] against the interests of the state and for our enemies” (Sherwood 2012). When I asked Ṣarṣur if he agreed with the moderate and radical description of the two branches, he responded that he did not mind the Southern Branch being called moderate, but he did not accept that the Northern Branch is radical, arguing that both branches follow the laws, operate ­openly, and have identical goals (Ṣarṣur 2010). Rather than supporting the polarizing narrative, I argue for a contextualized approach, made up of time and place, that takes into account the connection with the pressures the branches of the Movement operate under at any given point. The integrationist approach of the Southern Branch becomes more pronounced from 2015 with its participation in the Joint List and later its willingness to split from this list due to political or social differences. The isolationist approach of the Northern Branch also becomes more pronounced after it chose not to participate in local elections from 2013. Yet, in my assessment, both branches should be considered pragmatic in relationship to their sociopolitical context. Critically, both branches of the Islamic Movement represent native Muslim Arab Palestinians in the Jewish state who reject the idea of a Jewish state, which privileges those deemed to be Jewish nationals, because in their lived experience it has had a profoundly harmful and discriminatory effect on their community as a national minority. This standpoint in and of itself is controversial from an official Israeli point of view but is commonly accepted among Palestinians, including Palestinian citizens of Israel.

conclusion For the Movement as a whole, the consequences of the split in 1996 are largely negative and include competition for supporters, activists, and 88  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

funding. In addition, as mostly related by the younger generation and student activists, the split has caused embarrassment as well as inspirational and ideological damage, as it diverts attention and energy away from the shared issues of concern to the wider community of Palestinian citizens and Islamists and results in competitive attitudes. Both branches continue to use the approach of advancing social and cultural autonomy in Israel and offer their constituents services that supplement and substitute those of the state, in addition to their religious revivalist care (see chapter 3). Despite the split, from the current analysis we can conclude that the two branches of the Islamic Movement in Israel have more in common than that which separates them: both branches of the Movement practice nonviolent political behavior, which confines itself within the legal boundaries of Israeli law (Ṣalāḥ has been found guilty of incitements as an individual, but he has never been found guilty of breaking any criminal laws) (Bishara 2021); both branches focus their activism on the local Palestinian community and operate institutions that provide services for this community, based on their principle of ­self-­reliance; both branches have participated successfully in the political process at local and municipal levels; both branches have the same tripartite goal of protecting Palestinian land, holy sites, and people, in addition to the overall emphasis on Islamization of Muslim Palestinians in Israel; both branches participate in activism aimed at ending the siege of Gaza and assisting Palestinians in the occupied Palestinian territory; and leaders of both branches voice their protests against what they consider to be unjust actions by the State of Israel. The main difference between the two branches, as articulated by representatives interviewed for this chapter, is disagreement over participation in the elections for the K ­ nesset—​­in other words, the degree to which they choose to participate in the Israeli state system. This difference is related to the ideological interpretation of the ramifications of engaging a state system not based on sharīʿa, as well as the real political issue of how such participation contributes to the ­well-­being of Palestinian citizens of Israel and the effectiveness of their Movement. Whereas the Northern Branch has chosen to steer clear of formalizing its relationship with the state at the national level, arguing that this would force it to compromise on its a­ nti-­Zionist stance, the Southern Branch considers such formalization one of the ways by which to try to alter the predicament of its constituency. Thus, the former rejects the Israeli Jewish democracy at the national level, and the latter uses the democratic system to represent its constituency in the parliament to fight the discriminatory policies of the very state that the Knesset r­epresents—​ ­the Jewish State of Israel. Since both branches have previously participated in local ­elections and cooperated with relevant state institutions on this 89  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

level, thereby cooperating in the facilitation of the social, educational, and ­health-­care needs of this minority, it makes little sense to describe either as radical. It may also be argued that boycotting elections is a form of engagement with the system and does not represent a total withdrawal from this part of the political sphere; rather, it is an active critique of it. In addition to disagreeing on the issue of national elections, there is a difference in the rhetoric and style of the leaders of the two branches, as well as the media attention given to them. It is suggested here that the branding of the Southern Branch as moderate and the Northern Branch as radical largely stems from the impressions given by the chosen rhetoric and style of their respective leaders, not by examining the similar activities of the leaders or the branches. Neither branch fits the definition of a “radical Islamist” organization, as they are both nonviolent and both confine their activism within the legal framework of the state. Therefore, this study challenges the polarizing narrative of the two branches of the Islamic Movement through which the one is presented as radical (Northern Branch) and the other as moderate (Southern Branch) and argues instead that they are both pragmatic and that the Southern Branch is integrationist and the Northern Branch is increasingly isolationist vis‑à‑vis the Israeli state system. Importantly, by applying a c­ ontext-­based approach that takes into consideration both the ideological and practical levels of the Movement, the differences and the similarities between the branches become more apparent, leading to the conclusion that each of the two branches may be described as “pragmatic” in its relationship with the state. The perspective and approach of the Northern Branch may also be described as “idealist”; while previously compromising to accommodate its constituency on the local level, this branch refused to participate in the electoral process at the state level for the reasons provided above. Regardless of what one thinks of this rationale, it seems evident that the leadership of the Northern Branch has decided on its red line in terms of involvement with the Israeli state; and it has not just maintained this position since 1996 but has increased its application by also opting out of participation in local elections since 2013. The Southern Branch, by contrast, has continued to increase its application of a pragmatic approach to its involvement in the state institutions, but this should not be misread to imply that its leadership or supporters harbor a stronger belonging to the state. Similar to the other parties representing Palestinian citizens in the Knesset, the leadership of the Southern Branch rationalizes its participation in electoral politics on a national level as a means through which to protest the increasing limitations on their rights as ­non-­Jewish citizens in a ­self-­defined Jewish state. As observed from the development of other Islamist parties: 90  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Repression can “force” the moderation of Islamist ­parties—​­and often did, particularly during the 1990s and 2000s. Under repression, Islamists put aside and postponed their dream of an “Islamic state,” which they had little use for when their fundamental liberties were being denied. In such a context, Islamists democratized their internal organizational structures, opened Islamists in transition to new channels of cooperation with secular parties, and moderated their ­policies—​­on sharīʿa law, democracy, political pluralism, and minority and women’s ­rights—​­in the hope of forestalling repression or at least mitigating its negative effects. (Hamid 2016, ­4–­5)

In a similar manner, in recent years, the Southern Branch has increased its cooperation with other representatives of the Palestinian minority in Israel and increased democratization of its internal structure. Unlike other regional cases, and despite being permitted to enter national elections and the parliament, this Islamist branch and the other Palestinian representatives represent a national and religious minority; as such, the postponement of the dream of an Islamist state is not understood as being only temporary but as permanent. In order to most accurately describe these Islamist groups, I suggest that they both be considered Islamist Palestinian nationalists. This terminology is based on their shared ideology (with room allowed for differences in application) and on shared ­actions—​­all contextualized in the State of Israel, which encapsulates their constantly developing ideology and practices vis‑à‑vis this state that controls the e­ nvironment—​­physically and ­figuratively—​­in which both branches of the Movement seek to advance their interests and develop their practices as representatives and leaders of a national and religious minority.

91  |  The Split of the Islamic Movement in Israel

ch a pter th r ee

A Trifecta of Goals r el i gi ou s si tes, l and, a n d p e o p le

E

very islamic movement office or associated organization has a poster and/or a model of the al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf with al‑Āqṣā. Some are embroidered, others are photographs, and yet other depictions are painted. The models are neatly handmade in wood or other materials with impressive details. The largest model I came across was in the office of Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ in Um al‑Faḥim, perhaps unsurprisingly so, being the office of the leader of the Northern Branch in the Palestinian town that is considered the center of Islamic education in the country. These images and models were also something I came across often while in the occupied West Bank and in some other parts of the Middle East. The immediately recognizable golden dome of the Dome of the Rock and the city walls are observable not only in offices and mosques but also in people’s homes in the region. It is a symbol of faith, Islam, and the unforgotten conflict in Palestine. And it is at the center of the discourse and struggle of the Islamic Movement in Israel, connecting it and its struggle with the global Muslim community. The slogan of the Islamic Movement in Israel is Islam huwa al hal (“Islam Is the Solution”), similar to other Islamist movements and in line with the Islamist ideology explained in chapter 2. However, I contend that the specific goals of the Movement go beyond the commonly held aim of Islamizing the Sunni Muslim population in the country and include national aspects specific to this part of the Palestinian nation. The main three goals as articulated by leaders of the Movement are to protect Palestinian land, religious sites, and people. These goals are direct outcomes of the reality in which 92

Palestinian citizens of Israel have found themselves since the 1948 War that was their Nakba, and their predicament as a national native n ­ on-­Jewish minority in the Jewish state. As such, even though this is an Islamist movement, some of its practices are also aimed at and sometimes executed in cooperation with Christian Palestinians, their fellow Palestinians making up this national minority (there was no mention of cooperation with the Druze community during my interactions with the Movement). The focus of the goals is on retrieving and protecting (what remains of ) land and religious sites and safeguarding the people. Kāmil Rayān of the Southern Branch described the trifecta of goals, using his own family history to illustrate the significance and contemporary relevance: It lies under this triangle: land, people, and religious landmarks. We want our land and we will not allow it to be confiscated and stolen: they stole 700 dunums [measurement unit equivalent of 1,000 square meters] from my father and I will not forget them [the dunums]. People: they expelled my uncle from the country, and it is his right to return. Religious landmarks: the mosques should not be touched. This is the goal in short. (Rayān Interview 2008)

This chapter places the trifecta of the Islamic Movement’s goals in historical and political context. First, it explains the need for measures and those undertaken by the Movement to protect religious sites, with a particular focus on al‑Āqṣā compound in East Jerusalem. Second, it discusses the Movement’s protection of land in the context of the state’s appropriation of Waqf (land and buildings belonging to the Muslim community) and private ­Palestinian land since 1948; the highly limited opportunity for Palestinian citizens to acquire land; and the state’s policy of home demolitions. Finally, it details the widespread sense of vulnerability among Palestinian citizens of Israel and the actions taken by the Movement to protect them.

al‑ Ā q ṣ Ā is in danger As the name of the Al‑Āqṣā Association indicates, one of the main focuses of the Movement is the protection of al‑Āqṣā mosque and the al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf in ­Israeli-­occupied (and -­annexed) East Jerusalem. According to Rayān, the Association’s most important tasks are maintenance of the al‑Āqṣā mosque; bringing worshippers to the mosque; and taking care of the Palestinians in East Jerusalem (Rayān Interview 2008). These 93  |  A Trifecta of Goals

three interrelated tasks resonate directly with the three goals of the Movement: to protect (­Israeli-­occupied) land and holy sites and people. People in this case are both Palestinian worshippers from inside Israel and Palestinian “permanent residents” of East Jerusalem, who do not hold Israeli citizenship (B’Tselem 2017). By focusing on al‑Āqṣā and East Jerusalem, the Islamic Movement is positioning itself at one of the religious centers of the world and the ­third-­holiest site in Islam, thereby making its activism international and of global relevance. As described in chapter 2, Jordan maintained responsibility for the guardianship over the Muslim ­Waqf-­controlled properties in East Jerusalem after Israel occupied East Jerusalem in 1967. Since then, the ­Jordanian-­managed Waqf has carefully balanced an acknowledgment of Israeli military control over the religious site while simultaneously ensuring a Jordanian and Muslim political presence in a location that Israel deems part of its “complete and united” capital city (Knesset 2020a). Jordan has also invested financially in the upkeep of the Muslim holy sites in Jerusalem. Since the Oslo Accords in the 1990s, Jordan has had to share the political and religious leadership of Jerusalem with the PLO and the Palestinian ­National Authority. In the Orient House, the headquarters of the PLO in East ­ alestinian Jerusalem, and via the new Palestinian Ministry of Religious Affairs, P representatives have challenged the Jordanian position as representative of the Palestinian (and Muslim) people living in Jerusalem and its ­vicinity. However, the Palestinian National Authority and the PLO were evicted from the city by Israeli authorities in the later 1990s after a series of bombings by Ḥamās and Islamic Jihad. Since then, the most prominent challenger to Jordan’s role as the Muslim guardian of Jerusalem has been the Islamic Movement in Israel. That said, the relationship between the Movement and the Jordanian Waqf has not been only competitive; they have also worked cooperatively, for instance in conducting renovation work on the compound. In particular, the Islamic Movement received a lot of attention for its involvement in the renovation of the subterranean prayer halls called Solomon’s Stables, conducted between 1996 and 2001 (Dumper and Larkin 2012). This activism earned the Movement a reputation as “defender of al‑Āqṣā.” The renovations were officially conducted by the ­Jordanian-­led Waqf office in Jerusalem, but the Islamic Movement provided materials and volunteers to provide labor. The Islamic Movement in Israel and in particular the leader of its Northern Branch, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, has since been associated with the struggle for al‑Āqṣā mosque and East Jerusalem to the degree that Ṣalāḥ is called the “Shaykh of al‑Āqṣā” and the “Palestinian Mayor of Jerusalem” (Dumper and Larkin 2012, 44). This is due to a combination of factors. Salah and 94  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

other leaders of the Northern Branch are present on the ground in East Jerusalem, organizing and participating in religious festivals, organizing protests against house demolitions and evictions, and leading and assisting in renovations of the al‑Āqṣā complex. Ṣalāḥ receives a lot of media coverage for his activism in Jerusalem in the Arabic, Hebrew, and ­English-­language press. He spearheads the discourse on the perceived threats facing al‑Āqṣā and is not afraid to voice his opposition to the occupation or to Israeli policies, often warning about the need to protect the Muslim holy sites in Jerusalem. For instance, in 2007 Ṣalāḥ called for an “intifada” to stop Israeli restoration of the collapsed Bāb al‑Maghāriba (Maghrabe Gate Ascent) and related archaeological digs (Lis 2007). The perceived need to protect al‑Āqṣā mosque is based on the fear of the destruction of, or damage to, al‑Āqṣā, a fear that is widespread among the supporters of the Islamic Movement. It is widely believed among the Muslim Palestinian community (in Israel and in the occupied Palestinian territory) that al‑Āqṣā is under multiple threats from settler groups, r­ ight-­wing Israeli politicians, and aggressive military forces (Dumper and Larkin 2012). The settler groups are understood to be the main propagators behind the controversial archaeological excavations near and/or under the site (Haaretz 2007; Al Arabiya 2009; Medzini 2009). This fear has intensified since the outbreak of the Second Intifada, poignantly named after the mosque as Īntifāḍat al‑Āqṣā, because the first clashes took place on the mosque compound in October 2000, and such fear has been heightened by claims to the site made by ­right-­wing politicians and settlers. The 2000 clashes occurred following Israeli ­then ­Foreign Minister Ariel Sharon’s visit to the al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf/Temple Mount while surrounded by a large Israeli police contingent. Israeli police do not normally allow n ­ on-­Muslims to enter the site except during hours for special or tourist visits, and only Muslims are allowed to pray on the site. To add to the levels of controversy, the Chief Rabbinate of Israel bars Jews from entering the site due to its sacredness from a Jewish point of view, as no one knows exactly where the holiest sites are and one could inadvertently step on and thereby desecrate them. However, recently more and more Jewish groups are visiting the holy site under the protection of the Israeli police. Further indicating the increasing tensions related to this site, in February 2014 the Israeli parliament held its fi ­ rst-­ever discussion about Israeli sovereignty over al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf/Temple Mount. The debate was initiated by the Likud member of the Knesset Moshe Feiglin, who wanted to discuss “the loss of Israeli sovereignty on the Temple Mount” ( JPost Editorial 2014). As reported in the Jerusalem Post, his concern is that the Muslim Waqf 95  |  A Trifecta of Goals

“is exploiting the religious autonomy it received [from Israel in 1967] and [has] turned it ­into—​­with the willful blindness of all Israeli ­governments—​ ­near-­total Muslim/Jordanian sovereignty” (Times of Israel staff 2014a). Feiglin represents the position of a growing group of ­right-­wing Israelis and ­messianic-­nationalist settlers who aim to take control over the Temple Mount and who ultimately want to rebuild the ancient Jewish temple or build a new synagogue on the site. Feiglin was arrested for praying at the Temple Mount in 2012 and 2013. He is reported to have toured the holy site again in 2014, this time protected by Israeli police as a member of Parliament, provoking Palestinian and Muslim criticism. As recently as 2019, the Jordanian foreign minister condemned visits to the holy site by Jewish Israelis after Feiglin was reported to have visited again and groups of Jews reportedly prayed on the site ( Joffre 2019). Fear for al‑Āqṣā among supporters and leaders of the Islamic Movement is the motivational force during an annual event called “al‑Āqṣā Is in Danger,” hosted by the Northern Branch in Um al‑Faḥim. The festival attracts tens of thousands of Muslims from all over the country (Ha’aretz staff 2004; Levine 2009; ­Roffe-­Ofir 2010). At this festival, the leaders of the Movement give emotional speeches about liberating al‑Āqṣā that are loaded with religious content and strong statements. For example, Kamāl Khaṭīb, deputy leader of the Northern Branch, is reported to have stated at the festival that “the sweep of the sword will start a fire that will burn the enemies of al‑Āqṣā” (McCharty 2007). In addition to tens of thousands of Muslims, ­non-­Muslim Palestinians also attend this festival. In my interview with Archbishop Attalah Hanna of the Greek Orthodox Church in 2010, he explained that he has participated in this festival the previous twelve years and that he had been invited to deliver speeches at the event by the Islamic Movement on several occasions (Hanna Interview 2010). In 2009, the Southern Branch also organized the first similar such festival in Kafr Qasim. According to ʿĀdil Bdair, their festival drew several thousand Palestinians from across Israel (Bdair Interview 2010). In order to illustrate the significance of al‑Āqṣā, Rayān recounted a program on Israeli TV Channel 10 about al‑Āqṣā that had aired the day before our interview. Rayān’s secretary participated in the program, representing the Islamic Movement’s perspective. According to Rayān, when he was asked what would happen if al‑Āqṣā mosque was demolished, he answered: You are afraid of the atomic bomb from Iran, but the real atomic bomb is not [one from] Iran, the real bomb is the destruction of the al‑Āqṣā mosque. Do not touch al‑Āqṣā or one billion or five 96  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

hundred million Muslims may respond. This is the reality: the atomic bomb for the state of Israel is the destruction of al‑Āqṣā mosque. (Rayān Interview 2008)

In addition to its involvement in maintaining and protecting this holy site, the Islamic Movement facilitates daily visits to Jerusalem by Palestinians from inside Israel. Both branches of the Islamic Movement organize buses to transport people from Palestinian villages and towns throughout Israel to J­ erusalem and al‑Āqṣā. According to the Northern Branch’s website, approximately one hundred ­fifty-­eight thousand passengers were transported to and from ­Jerusalem in 2001 by that branch alone, and the numbers steadily increased to three hundred ­fifty-­eight thousand in 2004 (Islamic Movement 2010). Kāmil Rayān further described the aims of these trips to Jerusalem and al‑Āqṣā as providing the individual Muslim with the opportunity to pray at al‑Āqṣā and to educate Palestinians within Israel about al‑Āqṣā, the predicament of the Palestinian city of Jerusalem, and the predicament faced by Palestinian residents of the city (Rayān Interview 2008). Thus, the overall goal is to connect the Muslims from Israel directly, emotionally, and religiously to the past and current situation of al‑Āqṣā, Jerusalem, and its Palestinian community. This agenda is directly related to the goal of protecting Palestinians in East Jerusalem, as well as that of protecting religious sites and land. Through these activities the Islamic Movement is creating associational networks between Palestinians that result in socially horizontal relationships that are built on solidarity, which is based on their “homogenous social networks within which their identity was forged” (Clark 2004, 26).

religious sites In my interview with Rayān, he described what he calls a “war” between Palestinian citizens and the state over not only land and houses but also “bones” and “skulls” (Rayān Interview 2008). He was referring to the destruction and appropriation of Arab Palestinian religious landmarks, specifically houses of prayer and cemeteries. Rayān was at the center of the development of the cornerstone Al‑Āqṣā Association. He recalled that, as the new mayor of Kafr Bara in the m ­ id-­1980s, he was approached by people who complained about violations of mosques, cemeteries, and Muslim holy sites inside Israel. He provided some examples such as the filming of a movie involving a sex scene inside the Red Mosque in Safed; the al‑Siksik mosque in Jaffa, which had been turned into a tavern; and a mosque in ʿAin Ḥūḍ (Ein Hod in Hebrew), which had been turned 97  |  A Trifecta of Goals

into a discotheque. Rayān related that, due to positive peer ­pressure—​­similar to the pressure that made him decide to stand for mayoral elections a few years ­earlier—​­he agreed to take on the responsibility of the holy sites that traditionally are under the management of the Waqf. In 1987, Rayān was elected to be in charge of these sites on behalf of the Islamic Movement. The Al‑Āqṣā Association was subsequently established in 1989. Rayān was still the chairperson of the Association on the date of the interview ( July 2008). Rayān explained his belief that Jewish Israelis want to empty the land of Arabs and remove all signs of Arab Palestinian history in Israel. Therefore, the Association documents what it considers to be past and current violations of Muslim and Christian religious sites inside Israel and in East Jerusalem. In addition, the Association works to protect religious sites that are still in use, as well as the remains of historical sites. The data are collected in the field, and the books include maps and photographic evidence. One publication titled Caretaking of the Islamic Holy Sites was published in Hebrew and describes the destinies of seven mosques, including in Hitin, Caesarea, al‑Malkha (a neighborhood in Jerusalem), and Sadef, plus six cemeteries across the country. The chapters of this book describe in detail the history and current state of disrepair of those sites. In its introduction, it is established that this has been (and remains) ongoing since the 1940s. The book describes the effects of this on the Muslim population of Israel, especially the pain of seeing holy sites being turned into bars, restaurants, and clubs; being totally neglected and in some cases declared o­ ff-­limits as a “restricted area”; or being destroyed altogether in order to make way for new construction (Amutat al‑Aqsa 1994). The fact that this publication is published in Hebrew demonstrates the Association’s interest in directly communicating its concerns to the Israeli authorities and society. By describing the consequences of the different laws and regulations passed since 1948, and how these continuously deprive the Arab Palestinian minority of access to and the ability to care for its holy sites, the Association is charging both the state and its institutions with responsibility for these failings, as well as asserting its awareness and understanding of the state’s ongoing efforts of land expropriation and r­eligio-­cultural appropriation. The caption under the photograph of the mosque in Caesarea reads: “In the shadow of the ‘Israeli democracy’ the mosque of Caesarea is being used as a pub and restaurant” (Amutat al‑Aqsa 1994, 50), thus clearly disparaging Israeli ­self-­identification as a democracy. From their point of view, the state has expropriated their lands and driven out their people and is actively restricting opportunities to observe religious traditions and to mourn the dead through its demolition of Muslim holy sites and graveyards (Amutat al‑Aqsa 1994, 5). 98  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

While this publication in Hebrew was aimed at a Jewish Israeli audience, Rayān explained that another main purpose of this ­fact-­collecting effort was to ensure that future generations of Palestinians will know about their ­history. He illustrated this with the example of the landmark Hilton Hotel on the beach in Tel Aviv that was built on the Abdel Nabi cemetery. Today, there are no physical or other signs of the cemetery, and young Jewish Israelis and Palestinian citizens might never know that there was once a mosque there. Rayān elaborates on his view of this mission: I spent thirty years of my life between skulls and bones. I envisage that the content of this battle is the third aspect of the conflict between us and the Jews. There is no debate, the conflict is over the land, over humans and religious landmarks; this is the third aspect. The Jews wished they would rise and not find any Arab here, the Jews wished they would rise and not find a centimeter belonging to any Arab here, and they wish that they will rise and find this land free from any religious landmark. This may be seen as superficial, but in fact it is a ­part—​­a third ­aspect—​­of the battle between us and the Israelis. I want to correct myself, not [a battle] with Jews [ Jewish Israelis] but with Israel. (Rayān Interview 2008)

According to Rayān, the Association has produced many books recording violations against Muslim and Christian cemeteries inside Israel. It needs to be noted that Christian cemeteries were treated differently by the Zionist and later Israeli forces in 1948 and subsequent governments, as noted by Lustick in 1982: “Indeed special regard has been shown for different Christian communities: the Greek Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Latin and Maronite. The government has returned consecrated property of absentee Christians to the control of individual sects, unlike its treatment of the Muslim Waqf” (Lustick 1980, 134). In addition, the Christian religious trusts were returned to the Christian authorities, in contrast to the state’s ­large-­scale confiscation of the assets of the Muslim Waqf (Lustick 1980, 323). This differentiated treatment of the various Palestinian religious groups also extended to churches. Churches were not damaged at the same level as Muslim holy sites in 1948 or later (Benvenisti 2002, 148). Meron Benvenisti, former deputy major of Jerusalem, argues that the relative protection afforded to Christian sites by Zionist forces in the 1948 War was intentional. Lustick drew the conclusion that the ongoing differential treatment of the holy sites of Christians and Muslims (and Druze) by the state since the War of 1948 was part of the government’s policy to encourage religious fragmentation of the Palestinian minority. This explains why many Palestinian Muslims in Israel, including 99  |  A Trifecta of Goals

supporters of the Islamic Movement, perceive a greater need for preservation and protection of Muslim sites and why the Islamic Movement’s organizations are focused on such sites. Benvenisti confirms that Israeli control over Waqf property was and is a part of its strategy to take over P ­ alestinian-­controlled and -­owned land and that, in this process, holy sites were and are disregarded. He describes how the state took over the majority of the holy Muslim land that was owned and maintained by the Waqf: Most Waqf property in Israel was expropriated under the Absentee Property Law and afterwards handed over to the Development Authority, ostensibly because this was necessary to prevent its being neglected, but actually so as to make it possible to sell it. Only ­one-­third of Muslim Waqf property, principally mosques and graveyards that were currently in use, was not expropriated. In 1956 the administration was turned over to the Board of Trustees of the Muslim Waqf, which by then was made up of collaborators appointed by the authorities. These “trustees” would sell or “exchange” land with the ILA [Israel Land Administration] without any accountability to the Muslim community. (Benvenisti 2002, ­297–­298)

According to Benvenisti, in rural communities alone, 140 mosques were abandoned during the war in 1948, and of those mosques, a hundred were completely demolished, as were the villages they were located in. The other forty mosques are “currently in an advanced stage of deterioration and ­neglect or being used by Jewish residents for purposes other than for which they had been erected” (Benvenisti 288). Corroborating the description of indecent use of some religious sites by Rayān above, Benvenisti added that: The bare statistics are that twenty mosques are currently in various stages of deterioration and decay; six are being used as living quarters, ­sheep-­dens or stables, carpentry shops, or storehouses; six have been or are at present serving as museums, bars, or tourist sites of some sort; four are being used wholly or in part as synagogues; and two have been partially renovated for Muslim worship, but that use has been either prohibited or restricted. (Benvenisti 2002, 289)

In regard to the cemeteries, Benvenisti writes that: Of the hundreds of Muslim cemeteries extant before 1948, vestiges of only about forty are still discernible. The others have disappeared, 100  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

either because their gravestones have turned to rubble or because their land has been used for roads, agricultural development, or the construction of institutions or homes. (Benvenisti 2002, 296)

The US Department of State’s 2009 Report on International Religious Freedom confirms a negative attitude by the State of Israel toward n ­ on-­Jewish holy sites, despite the fact that the state is obliged by Israeli law to protect all holy sites: The 1967 Protection of Holy Sites Law applies to holy sites of all religious groups within the country and in all of Jerusalem, but the Government implements regulations only for Jewish sites. ­Non-­ Jewish holy sites do not enjoy legal protection under it because the Government does not recognize them as official holy sites. (Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, 2009)

The Al‑Āqṣā Association is taking on the battle for Palestinian holy sites inside Israel and in occupied East Jerusalem because the Waqf office has not been able to protect these sites, and it is “battling, without much success, to preserve these cemeteries” (Benvenisti 2002, 296). There are many examples of serious confrontations between the Association and Israeli public and private bodies (Benvenisti 2002, 296). Often these confrontations are p ­ hysical—​ ­Muslim protesters up against bulldozers. One example is from 1997, when the cemetery of the village of Um Khalid, which was destroyed in 1948, was uncovered in Netanya during the construction of a new school. The Association requested that the work be halted, but this happened only when it petitioned the High Court of Justice. Due to the petition, the city agreed to halt the work and put up a sign informing people: “Here is the Muslim cemetery of the village of Um Khalid” (Benvenisti 2002, 296). Another not‑so‑successful example is from the u ­ pper-­class Jewish town of Herzeliya, where the cemetery of the abandoned village of al‑Haram was bulldozed by a resident who wanted to improve his view of the sea (Benvenisti 2002, 296). The goals of the Islamic Movement to protect land and religious sites overlap: Cemeteries are not of interest to the clergy only; their significance extends far beyond the narrow religious context. They are a means to maintaining a hold on the land. Just as Israelis are striving to eradicate them, the Arabs are endeavouring to preserve them: there is no stronger proof of roots than the graves of one’s ancestors. (Benvenisti 2002, 299) 101  |  A Trifecta of Goals

As such, religious sites can also be considered as part of the Islamic Movement’s re‑Palestinization approach, which is linked with its efforts to re‑­ Islamize people, land, and sites. One of the ­highest-­profile controversies regarding holy sites in recent years is that concerning the Muslim Maqbarat Maʾman Allāh (“God’s Sanctuary”) cemetery in west Jerusalem, where the Simon Wiesenthal Center has constructed the Museum of Tolerance. (For an overview of the extensive media coverage the Mamilla Museum of Tolerance has received, see Cook 2008; Mendoza 2006; and Burston 2008.) The Islamic Movement has been at the forefront of the protests against the construction of the museum, as it is located on top of a Muslim cemetery described as dating back to the seventh century. The Movement holds that certain of the Prophet’s companions, soldiers of Ṣalāḥ ad‑Dīn al‑Ayyūbī (Saladin), as well as families from Jerusalem are buried there. As such, the museum, whose stated purpose is promoting “unity and respect among Jews and between people of all faiths,” has caused outrage among the local Muslim population, particularly with the exhumation of around 250 skeletons (Dumper and Larkin 2012, 46). The Islamic Movement was not the only organization that protested against the museum, but it adopted a different approach to that of other critics. While other Palestinians and Jewish activists based their criticism of the museum plans on morality, and religious (and political) common sense, the Northern Branch of the Islamic Movement, under the leadership of Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, led street protests against the museum and also initiated a legal injunction through the Israeli court system opposing the construction. The Movement based its case on the religious ruling that Muslim graveyards never lose their sanctity and sought to portray the Museum plans as part of a co‑ordinated and systematic Israeli attack on Islam, Arab heritage and the Palestinian presence in Jerusalem. According to Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, the very name [the Museum of “Tolerance”] illustrates their utter disdain. They have raped our holy places in the name of tolerance. . . . This resolution is a serious violation of all the holy sites and not only to one cemetery. There are other graves under threat, graves that symbolize our historical background, our culture and religion. (Dumper and Larkin 2012, 47)

The Movement lost the case after a ­five-­year court battle (­2003–­2008). However, despite this failure, through the struggle itself the Islamic Movement “consolidated their reputation and leadership among many Jerusalemites” (Dumper and Larkin 2012, 47). Indicating the standing of the Movement 102  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

among Palestinians in East Jerusalem, the 2010 Pechter Poll showed that 36 percent considered the Islamic Movement as “extremely,” “very,” or “moderately” important. This compares favorably against the poll results of ­leading Palestinian organizations active in the occupied Palestinian territory and the Palestinian diaspora, Fateh, and Ḥamās. The same poll found 35 percent of respondents considered Fateh “extremely,” “very,” or “moderately” important, while 31 percent of those polled said the same about Ḥamās (Pechter Middle East Polls 2010, 17). According to this survey, the most pressing concern for Palestinian East Jerusalemites is “losing access to the Old City and al‑Āqṣā” (Pechter Middle East Polls 2010, 20), clearly indicating that the activism of the Movement resonates with the concerns of these residents.

land In order to understand why the protection of land is one of the main priorities for the Islamic Movement in Israel, it is necessary to examine the loss of land for Palestinians who remained in Israel in 1948. According to the Israeli legal human rights organization Adalah: Of the 150,000 Palestinians who remained in the new state, approximately ­twenty-­five percent were displaced from their homes and villages and became internally displaced persons as the Israeli army destroyed over four hundred Arab villages. The Israeli authorities also confiscated massive amounts of ­Palestinian-­owned lands. As the majority of the Palestinian community traditionally relied on agriculture as their main source of income, state expropriation of lands forced Palestinians to seek work as ­wage-­laborers and thus become primarily dependent on the Israeli economy. Prior to 1948, the Jewish community owned just 6‑7% of the land. During the next four decades, 80% of lands owned by Palestinians living in Israel were confiscated and placed at the exclusive disposal of Jewish citizens. Today, 93% of all land in Israel is under direct state control. (Adalah 2020)

As described in chapter 1, until 1966 all Palestinians in Israel lived under the rule of the military government, during which period more of their land was confiscated and expropriated. Shafir and Peled relate that the function of the military government was to perform the two most crucial tasks of what these authors call the “Zionist colonisation project”—​­namely to control ­Palestinian labor and to confiscate land (Shafir and Peled 2002, 112). This 103  |  A Trifecta of Goals

had serious consequences for the Palestinian population, as explained by Adalah: “As the majority of the Palestinian community traditionally relied on agriculture as their main source of income, state expropriation of lands forced Palestinians to seek work as wage laborers, and thus become primarily dependent on the Israeli economy” (Adalah 2014). Today, 93 percent of all land in Israel is under direct state control. Land ownership in Israel is described on the Israel Land Administration (ILA) website: ­Ninety-­three [percent] of the land in Israel is in the public domain; that is, either the property of the state, the Jewish National Fund ( JNF), or the Development Authority. The Israeli Land Authority (ILA) is the government agency responsible for managing this land which comprises 4,820,500 acres. “Ownership” of real estate in Israel usually means leasing rights from the ILA for ­forty-­nine or ­ninety-­eight years. (Israel Land Authority 2020)

The landownership regime outlined by the ILA in practice makes it nearly impossible for Palestinian citizens of Israel to lease land, because the land is controlled by Jewish agencies, whose main purpose is to keep Israeli land under Jewish control. As explained by Adalah: Since 1948, large tracts of ­Palestinian-­Arab-­owned land have been confiscated, or otherwise appropriated, under Israeli law and taken into the possession of the state or Zionist institutions, such as the Jewish Agency, the World Zionist Organization and the JNF, for the exclusive use of those holding “Jewish nationality,” whether they are citizens of Israel or not. Under Israeli law, this land cannot be sold to individuals, and the ILA allocates leasing rights to “Jewish nationality” holders for ­49–­98 years. The 19.5 million dunams of land (about 78 million acres) managed by the ILA are comprised of lands controlled by the state, the Development Authority and the JNF. Israel’s Basic Law: Israel Lands (1960) categorize these lands as “Israel Lands.” (Habitat International Coalition and Adalah 2005)

Rayān described the relationship between Palestinian citizens and the State of Israel as a continuous “war over land and religious landmarks”: In my view, World War III exists on the graves of Muslims and Arabs in this country. Together we [all Arabs in Israel] are at war, and I mean the word “war”: they want to demolish all the monuments 104  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

and landmarks and view the issue from a political standpoint. We, too, view it as a political issue, but it has its religious, cultural, human, historical and geographic dimensions. Therefore the real war, I feel, the Third World War is between us and the [Israeli] Authority on every stone, on every wall, on every bone and every skull. (Rayān Interview 2008)

land day demonstrations Palestinians in Israel have protested against land appropriations in an organized manner since the first Land Day protest occurred in 1976. Since the first protest, Muslim shaykhs, who later became leaders of the Islamic Movement, were active in these countrywide protests alongside Christian and secular groups and other individuals representing Palestinians in Israel. The original Land Day was organized to protest against the confiscation of land, such as in Sakhnīn (where the state confiscated twenty thousand dunums/­two-­hundred thousand square meters) and Kafr Qasim (where the state confiscated three thousand dunums/thirty thousand square meters) (Minns and Hijab 1990, 13). In this first demonstration, six Palestinian citizens were killed and several wounded by fire from the Israeli police and border patrol forces. Many others were arrested. The demonstrations came as a surprise to the Jewish majority community and to the Israeli authorities, who had grown accustomed to considering Palestinian citizens as a passive and submissive minority. Palestinian citizens were shocked by the violent response from the Israeli forces to their peaceful demonstrations (Reiter 2009, 60). Every year since, on March 30, Palestinian citizens of Israel gather to participate in demonstrations across the country to commemorate the events of 1976 and to continue the collective struggle against land confiscation and dispossession by the State of Israel. The future leaders of the Islamic Movement were at the forefront of the demonstrations in 1976, and they are still spearheading these protests today alongside secular, Christian, and nationalist community leaders. In a conversation we had a few years ago, Father Shehadeh Shehadeh (who passed away in 2010), the priest and activist who headed the first Land Day protest in 1976, described that protest as “the first mass political protest by Palestinians in Israel” (S. Shehadeh Interview 2010). Its organizing body, the National Committee for the Protection of Land, was multidenominational and ­cross-­party politically. It represented the emergence of a new generation of leadership among Palestinians in Israel, which began to build institutions and organizations to fight for their rights as Palestinian citizens 105  |  A Trifecta of Goals

of Israel. They belonged to the second generation of Palestinian citizens, and they spearheaded the politicization of that minority in the 1970s and 1980s (Rabinowitz and Abu Baker 2005). Significantly, the first leaders of the ­Islamic Movement belonged to the new leadership generation. Comparing the participation of the leaders of the nascent Islamic Movement with the nonparticipation of s­ tate-­employed imams, Shehadeh described the first Land Day as “the momentum for the Islamic Movement.” He contended that the Islamic Movement took this opportunity to begin establishing itself as a voice for Palestinian Muslims in Israel (S. Shehadeh Interview 2010). As described in chapter 1, since 1948, due to “the absence of qualified personnel to succeed the fi ­ rst-­generation Muslim establishment, subsequent appointments were made [by the state] on more political than religious grounds, leading to a co‑opted religious establishment lacking popular support” (A. R. Peled 2001, 3). By participating in and leading the Land Day demonstrations, the leaders of the budding Islamic Movement showed that, unlike the imams on the state payroll, they had not been co‑opted and that they represented a new independent Muslim Palestinian voice inside Israel. Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur of the Southern Branch of the Islamic Movement described the original Land Day: This day added new evidence that Israel did not change its vision and animosity toward the Arab minority. It did not hesitate to kill innocent, defenseless demonstrators, and storm the Arab towns with tanks as if it were in a fierce war against a heavily armed army. By killing innocent people, Israel wanted to break the will, steadfastness, and determination of the Arabs to claim their rights and defend their dignity, land, housing, and livelihood. (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008, 4)

In addition to being an organizer of Land Day demonstrations until today, the Movement’s leadership encourages educating its youth about the history and importance of this day and supports initiatives to that end by other organizations, as reported on the Eqraa website of the Northern Branch in several articles. For example, “The committee for follow‑up of the Arab education issues encourages the Arab schools to have educational, cultural activities about the Land Day” (Eqraa 2009).

home demolitions In addition to participating in Land Day demonstrations, the Islamic Movement is active in demonstrations against land confiscation and 106  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

the related problem of house demolitions across the country. Residential demolitions are mostly associated with Palestinians under Israeli occupation in the West Bank, the Gaza Strip, and East Jerusalem, but they also happen inside Israel to Palestinian citizens. In most cases, the reason given for demolishing houses of Palestinian citizens is a lack of building permits. For Palestinian citizens, building permits are very hard to obtain; thus when young couples start a family, many end up building their homes without permits (Nathan 2005, ­51–­53). These houses are under constant threat of demolition, and in the meantime the families might have to pay expensive fines penalizing the illegal construction. It is common for leaders of all political parties to join families or local leaders in the community to protest demolition orders. For example, in Ramle in 2010 local leaders walked arm in arm with the Northern Branch leader Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, protesting the demolition orders of thirteen homes (Hartman 2010). These houses and the other ­fifty-­seven homes in this neighborhood were all built on land the state had later zoned for agriculture, and the residents who reportedly owned the land feared that all the houses would be demolished, in which case approximately six hundred Palestinian citizens of Israel would become homeless (Hartman 2010). More recently, such demonstrations have been focused on the Naqab/ Negev in solidarity with the Palestinians who live there in unrecognized villages. Before the war in 1948, there were s­ixty-­five thousand to ninety thousand Bedouins living in the Naqab/Negev, whereas after the war eleven thousand remained; the rest had been expelled or displaced (­Abu-­Saad 2004, 1). Of those who remained, the majority were moved by the government to new areas of the desert, and the villages they built, and where many of them still live, constitute the so‑called unrecognized villages. Notably, these villagers are citizens of Israel and taxpayers; however, according to the Association for Civil Rights in Israel (ACRI): The ­Arab-­Bedouin population in the Negev exceeds 250,000 people. According to different estimates, approximately 25%–40% of this population live in unrecognized villages (see, for example, the Negev Coexistence Forum’s figures). The least populous of the unrecognized villages is home to over 400 men, women, and children, and the largest village’s population surpasses 10,000. Despite the fact that 11 villages have been recognized by the government and the urban planning institutions, their residents continue to lack basic infrastructure, including water systems, electricity, roads, waste collection, and more, lacking reasonable access to health services or education. This is due to the State’s 107  |  A Trifecta of Goals

refusal to develop these communities and their local infrastructure, or to grant building permits for residential purposes due to the conditioning of all development on the recognition of land ownership (ACRI 2019).

The Islamic Movement has a substantial following among the Palestinians in this area. Thabet Abu Ras, director of Adalah’s Naqab office, has estimated that ­two-­thirds of the ­30–­35 percent of Palestinians in the Naqab/ Negev who participate in elections vote for the Islamic Movement’s Southern Branch (­Abu-­Ras 2013). At the time of the interview, this branch headed the ­Palestinian Rahat municipality, the largest among the Palestinian municipalities in this region. Signaling the significance of this region, the current leader of the Southern Branch, Ḥammād Abu Daʿābis, is from Rahat. In addition, this branch has held the mayoral position in the village of Ḥūra in the Naqab/Negev for three consecutive terms (­Abu-­Ras 2013). The Islamic Movement arranges and participates in a variety of activities aimed at protesting the predicament of Palestinians in the Negev/Naqab and at improving their situation. To illustrate, the Movement’s leaders and supporters participate in national demonstrations against house demolitions; arrange their own demonstrations; disseminate information about the situation to Palestinians in the north of the country; and arrange voluntary work camps (see chapter 2) to provide practical assistance to this population. In conversations with student activists from the Movement, they described arranging demonstrations and information meetings at university campuses, in protest a­gainst—​­and to spread information ­about—​­government policies in the Naqab/Negev (Two male students Interview 2009; Two male students Interview 2012). They explained that the informational meetings are intended to inform the Palestinian s­tudents—​­who are mainly from the north and center of the c­ ountry—​­about the historical and current predicaments of their brethren in the Naqab/Negev. They also arrange what they call solidarity trips to the Naqab/Negev to show support and participate in work camps. In late November 2013, leaders and members of the Islamic Movement participated in the national “Day of Rage” demonstrations against the ­Prawer-­Begin bill, which, if put into action, would have changed the lives of the Bedouins yet again. According to the Knesset website, this bill “calls to officially recognise and register the vast majority of the Bedouin settlement throughout the Negev, and compensate the residents of 35 unrecognised ­villages—​­some 30,000 to 40,000 ­people—​­who are to be moved off ­state-­owned land into towns built for them” (Knesset 2013). Officially, the goals of the plan are to “bring about a better integration of the Bedouin in 108  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Israeli society” and to “reduce the economic and social gaps between the Bedouin population in the Negev and Israeli society as a whole” (Israel Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2011). However, according to a joint position paper by ACRI, Bimkom, and the Regional Council for Unrecognized (Bedouin) Villages in the Negev (RCUV), the state has ignored the Bedouins’ historical presence in the region and has sought to transfer and concentrate this population into a small corner of the Naqab/Negev, not because it wishes to integrate the community into wider Israeli society but in order to “free up the most fertile areas of the Negev for Jewish agricultural settlements” (Aburabia 2011, Introduction). The ­Prawer-­Begin bill was shelved by the Knesset in December 2013. However, despite this success for those opposing the bill, the fear is that this is only a temporary setback and that it will resurface. Meanwhile, the mayor of Rahat, Tālā al‑Qrīnāwī, from the Southern Branch of the Islamic Movement, complained that the government is continuing to implement the plan on the ground through the ongoing house demolitions and land confiscations (Ma’an 2014). Al‑Qrīnāwī participated in a protest against demolitions in Beersheva alongside the leader of the Northern Branch, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, in January 2014. According to the Ma’an News Agency, al‑Qrīnāwī said they did not see any intentions from the Knesset to stop the bill. Ṣalāḥ reportedly said that Israel is trying to impose a new Nakba on the Palestinians: “The racist mentality which is trying to get rid of the Triangle and its residents, is trying to impose settlement policies in the Triangle, Galilee, Acre and other cities” (Ma’an 2014). In January 2021, Suhad Bishara from Adalah confirmed that, even though the Prawer bill is not discussed anymore, this policy is still the same and eviction attempts are still the main methodology applied by the state (Bishara Interview 2021). Besides participating in and organizing demonstrations against state policies in this region, both branches of the Islamic Movement describe frequently arranging work camps to rebuild demolished houses and improve lacking infrastructure and facilities, such as school buildings, mosques, health clinics, and roads in the unrecognized villages. As described in chapter 1, these voluntary camps draw participants from across the country who come to assist in whatever capacity they can, using their craft or professional background or assisting with labor in order to complete the tasks set by the Movement. To facilitate these work camps, both branches arrange buses from Palestinian localities and also arrange for student activists to participate. In addition to opposing past and current land confiscation and house demolitions and protecting religious ­sites—​­such as Waqf land, cemeteries, mosques, and c­ hurches—​­the protection of the Palestinian people is a separate goal of the Movement. 109  |  A Trifecta of Goals

people In addition to its focus on al‑Āqṣā mosque, the Islamic Movement and its Al‑Āqṣā Association are concerned with the plight of the ­Palestinians living in East Jerusalem, regardless of legal status or religious belonging. Since Israel occupied East Jerusalem in 1967, the status of most Palestinians living there has been defined as “permanent residents”: As such, they are required to pay taxes and are entitled to all rights and services that are provided to Israeli citizens, except for the right to vote in the general elections. In reality, however, over the past four decades, the Israeli government has not allocated the necessary resources to develop East Jerusalem. As a result, there is a severe shortage of public services and infrastructure in East Jerusalem, including health and education services, welfare services, postal services and water and sewage systems. (Association for Civil Rights in Israel, Archive)

If East Jerusalemites (Palestinians living in East Jerusalem) move from ­Jerusalem, they run the risk that their status might be revoked, in which case they will not be able to return. For example, students who went to study in other cities or countries have lost their residency in the city. According to B’Tselem, the Israeli Information Center for Human Rights in the Occupied Territory, since 1967 Israel has revoked the permanent residency of 14,500 Palestinians from East Jerusalem (B’Tselem 2017). In order to assist Palestinians in East Jerusalem, the Al‑Āqṣā Association encourages Palestinians from inside Israel to spend money in East J­ erusalem shops and restaurants, preferably before or after they have prayed at al‑Āqṣā. The major economic concern for Palestinians in East Jerusalem is, as explained by Rayān, the severe limitations placed by Israel on freedom of movement for Palestinians in the occupied West Bank and the resulting economic drain this has had on businesses in the city (Rayān Interview 2008). Until the Second Intifada, East Jerusalem businesses relied on Palestinians living elsewhere in the West Bank as customers. However, now the economy of East Jerusalem is suffering because people living in the occupied P ­ alestinian territory are hindered from entering Jerusalem by the separation wall, by an increasing number of settlements and checkpoints, and by a very restrictive Israeli permit regime. According to B’Tselem, these restrictive measures are part of Israel’s strategy to change the demographic composition of the city: 110  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Since East Jerusalem was annexed in 1967, the government of Israel’s primary goal in Jerusalem has been to create a demographic and geographic situation that will thwart any future attempt to challenge Israeli sovereignty over the city. (B’Tselem, “East Jerusalem”)

Rayān stressed that, for him, the situation of the Palestinians in occupied East Jerusalem is more important than the physical state of the al‑Āqṣā mosque itself: For me, there is no question of the importance of the al‑Āqṣā mosque and its presence in our psyche, in our reality, religion, and convictions, but I care about the people of Jerusalem not less than al‑Āqṣā. I, personally, and the Association are dedicated to the people, not to the stone. Al‑Āqṣā, at the end of the day, is stones. In Islam, the Prophet, peace be upon him, said that the sanctity of a believer is greater with God than the sanctity of al‑Kʿba [the Kaba], (Rayān Interview 2008)

When comparing this statement to the statement Rayān attributed to his secretary above, about al‑Āqṣā being the atomic bomb Israel should fear, there appears to be a discrepancy between the secretary’s focus on the mosque and Rayān’s focus on the people of East Jerusalem. This discrepancy suggests two things about the relationship between the rhetoric and political priorities of the Movement: first, that there is room for divergent focus and emphasis on the Movement’s goals with regard to political priorities within the Movement; and second, that the focus and emphasis applied to each goal depends on the context. Thus, whereas the secretary focused on al‑Āqṣā in the context of talking with the Israeli media, his message was addressed to the Israeli public and government, warning that interference with the mosque will not go unnoticed. Rayān’s comment about prioritizing the people of Jerusalem, by contrast, can be understood as a message to this researcher that ­Palestinians are one united people and that solidarity and human life are among the top priorities of the Movement. The Islamic Movement is also working against what it calls the “Judaization of Jerusalem.” This is a ­state-­sponsored effort to increase Jewish presence in, and control over, the city and to diminish Palestinian presence in and control over the city, primarily through building Jewish settlements and confiscating Palestinian land and buildings, including homes. In order to assist Palestinians in East Jerusalem, the Movement provides legal advice, 111  |  A Trifecta of Goals

documents settlement plans, assists in rebuilding demolished houses, and runs charities that assist people and families in need (Dumper and Larkin 2012, 52). In recent years, the neighborhood of al‑Shaykh Jarrāḥ has been especially targeted by Israeli settler groups that want to take over the entire area using legal claims to evict Palestinian families. The leaders of the Movement, from both branches, have visited the protest tents of families who have been evicted from their homes and who have erected the tents nearby to visibly object to the evictions. Through charitable organizations, such as the Thousand Charitable Fund, which aims to mobilize a thousand supporters to donate $1,000 annually, the Islamic Movement aims to help support social and educational projects in East Jerusalem and inside Israel (Dakwar 2007, 72). By means of its organizations, the Movement provides a countrywide network (in Israel) of educational and social institutions and organizations that cater to its constituency from cradle to grave, including kindergartens, medical clinics, sports clubs, religious and nonreligious educational seminars, and other communal leisure facilities. In addition to activism in East Jerusalem (and inside Israel), the Islamic Movement provides charitable donations to assist taking care of orphans and families in the occupied Palestinian territory. More than twenty thousand orphans or children of single parents receive aid from the Islamic Movement’s Committee for Rescue and Humanitarian Aid (Salaime 2016). The funding comes from monthly donations from individuals in Israel, including many who are not Muslim or supporters of the Movement. People are happy to donate to this organization because the Movement has a good reputation for getting the money to those who need it, takes no commission, and is considered to be free of corruption (Salaime 2016). Another way the Movement has demonstrated its support for Palestinians under occupation is by the leaders of both branches participating in the flotillas to Gaza in 2010. All of this activism is considered controversial by the state and by much of the Jewish Israeli public, and the Movement is consequently accused of supporting Ḥamās and its leaders and of incitement against the state in which they hold citizenship (see discussion on Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ in chapter 2). To illustrate how the Islamic Movement functions and conducts its hands‑on assistance to individuals and communities, consider the example of how it and other (secular) Palestinian NGOs reacted after the riots in Akka/Akko in 2008. This northern city has a mixed population of Jews and Arabs. As described in chapter 2, the riots started as a reaction to what some Jews considered to be the violation of the holy day of Yom Kippur, when a Palestinian drove through a Jewish neighborhood to pick up his daughter. 112  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

During these riots, several Palestinian houses were torched by Jewish gangs, and many Palestinian inhabitants fled the city temporarily in fear. In the aftermath, in addition to the Islamic Movement, NGOs such as the secular Mossawa, the Advocacy Center for Arab Citizens in Israel, came to assist the Palestinians whose homes and business properties had been damaged. Mossawa has promoted the economic, social, cultural, and political rights of the Palestinian citizens of Israel since its establishment in 1999 and focuses on promoting the national, cultural, and historical recognition of this minority, as well as on ensuring a democratic society and fighting discrimination. In Akka/Akko, Mossawa offered to help the residents demand compensation from the state for the damages and for the failure of the police to protect them. The Islamic Movement, for its part, arrived with construction vehicles to rebuild houses. Thus, the Movement, consciously or not, ended up undermining Mossawa’s attempt to make the state take responsibility for, and compensate victims of, the damages caused by the rioters. This difference in approach often creates tension between NGOs such as Mossawa and the Movement ( J. Farah Interview 2010). Similar experiences were recalled by Tikva Levi, the director of HILA, the Israel Committee for Equality in Education, an organization supporting marginalized groups in Israeli society, mainly Palestinian citizens, Mizrahi, and Ethiopian Jews, with protecting their rights in the Israeli state educational system. Levi lamented that, whereas HILA works hard to demand equal rights for all citizens of Israel and to secure funding from the Ministry of Education for marginalized communities including Palestinian citizens, the Islamic Movement provides extracurricular classes and assistance for its Palestinian constituency, thus directly and effectively helping Palestinian citizens of Israel, but not challenging the inequality of the state system or demanding their rights from this system (Levi Interview 2006). Another concern expressed by my interviewees with regard to the protection of the Palestinian people is the sense of insecurity and vulnerability and the widespread fear among this population. Islamic Movement leaders went on the record saying they had received information about possible attacks on their lives, and some stated that many Palestinian citizens generally fear random acts of violence by Jewish perpetrators (Ṣalāḥ Interview 2008; Ṣarṣur Interview 2008). The recent context for this is the new millennium that began under a cloud and has continued in dramatic fashion for the Palestinian citizens of Israel. It started with the beginning of the Second Intifada and the subsequent killing of thirteen unarmed Palestinian citizens by Israeli police and security forces in October 2000 (Adalah 2012a). Then, in 2008, there were the ­above-­mentioned riots in Akka/Akko. In 2014, there was a particular 113  |  A Trifecta of Goals

increase in ­anti-­Arab discourse and ­acted-­upon hostile attitudes from some groups of Jewish citizens expressed in so‑called p ­ rice-­tag crimes. These crimes include burning cars, violating cemeteries, and spraying hateful messages on houses and graves (Mossawa Center 2014). These a­ nti-­Arab sentiments were further fueled by some Jewish religious leaders in the form of rabbinate decrees calling on Jews not to rent property to or associate with Arabs (Campos 2014). Also in 2014, at the beginning of the Israeli bombardment of Gaza in the summer, there were verbal and physical attacks on Palestinian citizens (Ma’an News Agency 2014a; Hasson 2014). With ­right-­wing governments in power since 2009, conditions for the Palestinian minority have worsened rapidly, cementing their position as, at best, ­second-­class citizens. According to Adalah, in these years former policies that discriminate against Palestinian citizens were made into laws and today there are more than ­sixty-­five laws that discriminate directly or indirectly against Palestinian citizens in Israel and/or Palestinian residents of the Occupied Palestinian Territory (OPT) on the basis of their national belonging. The discrimination in these laws is either ­explicit—“discrimination on its face”—​­or, more often, the laws are worded in a seemingly neutral manner, but have or will likely have a disparate impact on Palestinians in their implementation. . . . These new laws and bills seek, inter alia, to dispossess and exclude Palestinians from the land; turn Palestinians’ citizenship from a right into a conditional privilege; undermine the ability of Palestinian citizens of Israel and their parliamentary representatives to participate in the political life of the country; criminalize political expression or acts that question the Jewish or Zionist nature of the state; and privilege Israeli Jewish citizens in the allocation of state resources. (Adalah 2017)

Perhaps the most significant example of such a new law is the Jewish ­Nation-­State Law that excludes ­non-­Jewish citizens. It was initiated by Prime Minister Netanyahu and his cabinet and enacted in July 2018. According to this law: A. The land of Israel is the historical homeland of the Jewish people, in which the State of Israel was established. B. The State of Israel is the national home of the Jewish people, in which it fulfills its natural, cultural, religious and historical right to ­self-­determination. 114  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

C. The right to exercise national ­self-­determination in the State of Israel is unique to the Jewish people. (Wootliff 2018)

Another concern is that the specter of a population transfer has resurfaced in mainstream Israeli politics as a serious option to be considered as part of any future peace agreement reached between Israel and the PLO. This strategy is promoted by the former minister Avigor Lieberman and is related to the widespread idea that n ­ on-­Jewish citizens constitute a “demographic threat” to the Jewish state, a view also held, if not currently promoted, by Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. In 2001, ­then ­Minister of Transport Lieberman said: “I do not reject the transfer option. We don’t have to escape ­reality. If you ask me, Israel’s number one problem is not the P ­ alestinian problem; it is first of all the Arab citizens of the state of Israel. . . . Do I consider them citizens of the state of Israel? No! . . . ​They have to find a place where they feel comfortable” (Rouhana and Sultany 2003, 18). In 2003, ­then ­Finance Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said that “Israel’s growing demographic problem is not because of Palestinians, but of Israeli Arabs. . . . If Israel’s Arabs become well integrated and reach ­35–­40 percent of the population, there will no longer be a Jewish state but a bi‑national one” (Alon and Benn 2003). In his speech to the UN General Assembly in October 2010, ­then ­Foreign Minister Lieberman said: “A final agreement between Israel and the Palestinians has to be based on a programme of exchange of territory and populations” (Ravid 2010). In addition to lamenting the fact that the Israeli political leadership entertains these ideas, Ṣalāḥ bemoans the added factor that this idea is supported by many Jewish Israelis. He claims the following about the majority of Israeli Jewish citizens: I say that the Israeli establishment fuels this violence at the popular level, and unfortunately the Israeli public is cheering the Israeli establishment. The proof for this is the results of recent polls taken in this same Israeli community on their opinion on our transfer or the denial of our rights. For example, there are polls that state that more than 70 percent of Israeli society calls for our transfer; this is a popular response and not an official one. I am sorry to say that what I see is a kind of consolidation of the official and popular position in the course of action of the Zionist scheme. (Ṣalāḥ Interview 2008) Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur calls the issue “transferism,” an indicator of how accepted the topic has become in Israeli political discourse: “I may speak about three 115  |  A Trifecta of Goals

main challenges facing us as an Islamic Movement, as an Arab population. The first challenge is our physical existence as a part of the Israeli state. I mean transferism, fascist ideologies, etc., threatening our physical existence as part of the Israeli state” (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008). In sum, the focus on the safety and ­well-­being of its constituency and all fellow Palestinians, including those under Israeli occupation, does not set the ­ alestinians Islamic Movement apart from other organizations representing P in Israel. There are, however, differences in the methods adopted by the Islamic Movement that differentiate it from other organizations promoting the rights of this constituency. In the following section, the issue that separates the Movement from other o­ rganizations—​­surrounding the aim to establish a sharīʿa ­state—​­is addressed.

an islamic state in israel? When speaking about the goals of the Movement, the leaders of the Islamic Movement display awareness and caution of their predicament as indigenous Palestinians in the Jewish ­state—​­of being outsiders inside and, as such, viewed as (potential) enemies within by the Jewish majority. As observed by Sobhi Rayan: The two Islamic movements (the Northern and Southern) have accepted themselves as a minority in the State of Israel and are conducting a civil struggle to achieve equal rights before the law. The movements support the application of shariʿa law in Muslim countries, but see this as an unrealistic aim in Israel in which the Jews constitute the majority. Shaykh Darwīsh has even issued a religious ruling that the Muslim minority is permitted to accept the authority of a ­non-­Muslim state and to be integrated into its institutions so long as this does not harm the religious life of Muslims nor oppress them. The Northern Islamic Movement, however, tries to reduce the participation of Muslims in the state system to the minimum required for the interests of the Muslim community, and to reduce the dependence on state institutions as much as possible. The Islamic Movement recognizes the State of Israel as an existing fact, even though it rejects Zionism and does not agree to its definition as a Jewish state. The words expressed by the members of the Northern Islamic Movement reflect the view that this recognition is merely a temporary requirement that does not nullify the principle of the land being totally an “Islamic waqf.” (Rayan 2012, 72) 116  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

The leaders are well aware of the anxiety and fears that Islamist political objectives cause among their Jewish co‑citizens. This awareness is illustrated by the pragmatic approach shown by the former member of the Knesset and former leader of the Southern Branch, Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur, when I asked him about the main goals of the Islamic Movement in Israel: Let me answer this question in an ironic way. Once, a journalist asked me: “What do you, as an Islamist and a leader of the Islamic Movement, think about creating an Islamic state within the state of Israel?” Maybe he expected me to say “No,” directly. I said to him, “Yes, but on one condition. If I wake in the morning and switch on the radio and hear that 75 percent of the Jews embraced Islam. Only in those circumstances might I think of having an Islamic state inside of Israel.” So, it is a naïve idea to think about creating an Islamic state or looking forward to having an Islamic state inside Israel. Because we are aware of the ­limitations—​­we are aware of the realities on the ground. We are aware of the fact that we are a part of the Israeli Jewish state. The vast majority of the inhabitants of this state are Jews. The Israeli state was established to be the aspiration of the Jewish people in the entire world, especially those who immigrated to this part of the ­world—​ ­they created the state and they want to live in a Jewish state. We are aware of this fact, but regardless of this fact, we want to be a part of this state, but not a part of the identity of this state. (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008) Ṣarṣur appears to have been consistent in this position, as this quote by Ṣarṣur from Grossman’s 2003 book indicates: We’re not the Islamic Movement in Jordan or the territories! We live under other conditions. They have the opportunity to fight the occupation in their own way and to save themselves. We have the opportunity to find other ways and interpretations to live together with you. As a Muslim, I now accept the existence of Israel as an established fact. We have nothing to say about this given; God forbid, you should say we’re against the country. We’re against the policy, not the country. (Grossman 2003, 232)

Grossman quotes Ṣarṣur elsewhere in his text, justifying this position as consistent with Islamic principles: We have the ability, and the opportunity, to search and scrutinize the Islamic constitution to find the condition and the means 117  |  A Trifecta of Goals

appropriate to our circumstances within Jewish Israel. . . . The Islamic Movement in Egypt and Ḥamās, the Islamic Movement in the territories, oppose any move towards peace, and they also draw their ideas from the Qur’an and the Sunna. But I understand the Qur’an and the Sunna as I wish, and I can prove to you that the Qur’an required me to negotiate, and to solve the problems between us and you, between us and our enemies, in peaceful ways. (Grossman 2003, 229)

When confronted with quotes from the Islamic Movement’s newspaper al‑Surāṭ that “Palestine is Islamic holy land” and that no one has “the right to abandon or concede one inch of its land,” Ṣarṣur responded: We, as an Islamic Movement in Israel, believe that the Jews have a right to exist in Israel, which is part of Palestine! Even Ṣalāḥ ad‑Dīn al‑Ayyūbī resolved with the crusaders that they would remain on the coast. . . . And the crusaders, you know, had no right to this land, unlike the Jews, who really do have a certain connection, they have a history and ­well-­known rights here. (Grossman 2003, ­230–­231)

When asked about the goals of the Movement, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, leader of the Northern Branch, articulated a similar position. Like Ṣarṣur, Ṣalāḥ did not mention the establishment of an Islamic state as a goal of the Islamic Movement in Israel, but rather emphasized strengthening “an Islamic way of life” for Palestinian Muslims in Israel; maintaining Palestinian presence on the land; and preserving holy sites. In other words, he reiterated the three goals presented in this chapter. However, instead of focusing on visions for the future, Ṣalāḥ continued by describing the bleak reality in which Palestinian citizens of Israel to this day face constant hostility from the Israeli establishment. He emphasized that he does not consider it appropriate to ask ­Palestinians to speak of the future while the State of Israel continues to act in a manner he considers oppressive. As he expressed in my interview with him in 2008, quoted in chapter 3, Ṣalāḥ refuses to entertain any choices presented as solutions as long as the Zionization of Palestinian land and people, which he calls the “Nakba,” continues. The more accommodationist attitude displayed by Ṣarṣur contrasts with the more challenging attitude of Ṣalāḥ and is indicative of the ideological differences between the two branches since the split of the Movement in 1996. However, this difference is not dramatic. In both cases, the leaders take care not to cross political red lines when discussing f­uture-­oriented issues pertaining to Islamist and nationalist goals. 118  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

conclusion The related goals of the Islamic Movement in ­Israel—​­to protect Palestinian land, religious sites, and p ­ eople—​­are rooted in the historical context and current reality of the Movement and its followers. The goals were developed in response to the particular context of the Palestinian minority in Israel and are inspired by the Islamist ideology of the time. Since the 1970s, in some respects the Movement’s Islamist perspective and approach have developed very much in line with those of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, focusing on the community sphere to gain local support and influence, take root in communities, and grow from local mosques into a network of political offices. The primary goals of the Movement pertain to the Palestinian predicament and are broadly shared by other n ­ on-­Islamist groups representing Palestinians in Israel. This is part of the reason why some secular and Christian Palestinians support the Islamic Movement and why some also vote for representatives of the Movement in local or national elections. For many Palestinians in Israel and East Jerusalem, the leaders of the Islamic Movement, and Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ in particular, have become important national symbols of the Palestinian struggle against ongoing Israeli subjugation and discrimination. The Movement also earned support among some Christian Palestinians in Israel by including Christian religious sites within the portfolio of those of its organizations working to protect religious sites, as well as by the prominent role it has played in campaigning against the appropriation of Palestinian land within Israel by the state. Indeed, Shehadeh described various future Islamic Movement leaders’ involvement in the original Land Day demonstrations as providing the “momentum for the Islamic Movement” (S. Shehadeh 2010). In the view of this author, it is significant that the goals of both branches of the Movement are identical and that both branches pursue similar activist approaches in pursuit of those goals. Also similar is the careful response to questions of the branches’ leaders about their pursuit of an Islamic state and the Movement’s future goals, thereby displaying awareness about their minority status and their ability to keep within the red lines of the Jewish Israeli state, which has limited tolerance of ­anti-­Zionist expressions by ­Palestinian leaders. The ­social-­educational activism of the two branches and its logic will be discussed in chapter 4, focusing on the Movement’s response to the process of Israelization and its promotion of its ­three-­layered identity as Arab Palestinian Muslim.

119  |  A Trifecta of Goals

ch a pter f ou r

Resisting “Israelization” in Israel

I

n june 20 1 0, i attended a graduation ceremony at the local School of Excellence in Kafr Qasim, the seat of the Southern Branch and home to the founder of the Islamic Movement, Shaykh ʿAbdallah Nimr Darwīsh. The town is situated in central Israel, buttressing the Green Line, and is located only half an hour’s drive from Tel Aviv. The Movement has run the local council in Kafr Qasim for decades, although at the time of this research visit, in May 2010, the mayor was independent. The graduation ceremony demonstrated the merging of Islamization, Palestinization, and Arabization, which together form the ideological, religious, and national basis for the activism of the Islamic Movement in Israel. On the stage in the theater hall children performed Qur’anic recitations, receiving an enthusiastic response from the audience of families, neighbors, friends, teachers, and community leaders, including the mayor. The hall was decorated with nationalistic Palestinian symbols: a Palestinian flag covered one entire wall of the hall and surrounding the stage was a black and white ­Kūffiyya-­patterned ornamentation. The ceremony took place in the local museum that commemorates the 1956 massacre in which ­forty-­eight villagers were killed by Israeli security forces after returning from work in the fields after a curfew that they had not been informed about (Pappé 2011, 57). The museum is small and unpretentious, with displays of photographs of the victims, documents in Hebrew and Arabic from the resultant investigation and trial, and more recent artistic work inspired by the tragedy. 120

The content and setting of that graduation ceremony bring together ­Palestinian national and Muslim religious identities in a perspective where Palestinians are portrayed as victims of expulsion, violence, and ­attacks—​­but simultaneously presented as resisting the negative effects of living under Israeli ­rule—​­by reclaiming their narrative and educating younger generations in Qur’anic and Arabic studies. Thus, the graduation ceremony illustrates the importance the Islamic Movement places on promoting local history and a national narrative combined with religious education and an emphasis on Arabic. Since the 1970s, the Islamic Movement in Israel has sought to (re)create and promote an Arab Palestinian Muslim identity among its constituency of Palestinian citizens of Israel. This was considered necessary due to the repression of these elements of their identity under Israeli rule. Through educational and religious institutions, the Movement aims to: teach Palestinians in Israel about Islam; teach Palestinian ancient and modern history, as well as inform their current predicament as indigenous ­non-­Jewish citizens of the Jewish state; and improve their level of Arabic. In the Movement’s own terminology, these three ­identifications—​­Muslim, Palestinian, and ­Arab—​ ­constitute the “circles of belonging” it promotes. That an Islamist Movement feels the need to educate its constituency in Arabic and about its people’s own history might seem surprising, but as will become evident, this is due to the predicament of the Palestinian minority in the Zionist ­Hebrew–­dominated country and, as such, reveals the uniqueness of the Movement when compared to all the other regional Islamist movements. This is further illustrated by the fact that the Movement assists its followers with ­Hebrew-­language skills, which might also seem surprising at first glance but is logical when considering that such language skills are needed to succeed in higher education institutions and the workforce. The specific and unique foci of the Movement are expressed in many of the religious and political speeches by its leaders and guest speakers whose text is published on its website; reiterated in the content of the material distributed by pupil and student organizations; and demonstrably present in the Movement’s social and political activities around the country. All of these make up the sources relied on for this chapter, in addition to interviews and observations.

interrelated processes of identification Smooha coined the term “Israelization” to describe the parallel process to the re‑Palestinization process that this population has undergone since 121  |  Resisting “Israelization” in Israel

the ­mid-­1960s, arguing that “the Arabs cannot live in Israel permanently without adapting to Israeli life and without forming a new identity that combines their Israeli citizenship with their Palestinian national sentiment” (Smooha 1999, 14). He argued that Palestinian citizens of Israel have undergone a process of Israelization that manifests itself i­n—​­to varying ­degrees—​ ­being absorbed into the Israeli mainstream; accepting Israel’s right to exist; appreciating their Israeli citizenship; feeling loyalty to the state; usage of Hebrew; consuming Hebrew mass media and culture; comparing themselves with Jewish Israelis; defining themselves in Israeli terms; and seeing their fate and future in Israel (Smooha 1999, 13). From this perspective, Israelization is a process that signals the successful adaptation of Israel’s Palestinian citizens to their minority status and their integration into Israeli state and society. The historical background for the process called Israelization began with the 1948 War and the ensuing treatment of Israel’s Palestinian citizens, who until 1966 all lived under military government. This process can be viewed from two different perspectives. The first is the s­tate-­led measures directed at Palestinian citizens, intended to decrease their Palestinian identity and reshape/strengthen their identity as H ­ ebrew-­speaking, acquiescent “Israeli Arabs,” which were enforced through control of their education and economic and political opportunities. Second, Israelization is the sum of the influences on Palestinian citizens’ identity, culture, and lifestyle, which could be expected from living and working in Israel and through the resulting exposure to, and to a degree participation in, Hebrew and Israeli media and mainstream culture. However, since 1967, Palestinians in Israel have also been exposed to the process of Palestinization, encouraged by the access ­to—​­and feelings of solidarity w ­ ith—​­their co‑nationalists in the occupied Palestinian territory. Demonstrated by strong support for the PLO, this process was further motivated by increasing educational standards and the related awareness of ­anti-­Arab discrimination and the low status of Palestinians in Israel (Smooha 1999, 12). The First Intifada and the revival of Islam further stimulated ­Palestinization among Palestinian citizens of Israel. Notwithstanding the increasing Palestinization among Palestinians in Israel, in 1999 Smooha argued that Palestinian citizens of Israel are “Israelised despite the surge of Islam among them since the ­mid-­1980s” (Smooha 1999, 14). He argues that in the 1990s this process was stronger than the process of Palestinization among Israel’s Palestinian citizens. However, according to Rouhana, Israelization has occurred on a far more limited scale. Rouhana concedes that Palestinian citizens of Israel have experienced partial Israelization, though this is reduced to “abiding by Israeli laws and having daily interactions with the system that makes them Israeli” 122  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

(Rouhana 1997, 126). His findings in the 1990s showed that: (1) Few Palestinian citizens would describe themselves solely as Israeli; (2) there had been a steady increase in the tendency to describe the collective identity of the Arab population as Palestinian; (3) national identity remained, consistently, of central significance; and (4) there was a negative correlation between the suitability of the terms “Palestinian” and “Israeli” (Rouhana 1997, 113). As such, according to Rouhana, Israelization is reduced to a formal legal status, rather than being an ongoing process of dual identification, as argued by Smooha. By contrast, Rouhana argues that the process of re‑Palestinization has been accentuated since the m ­ id-­1960s: The majority of Israel’s Arab citizens refer to themselves as “Palestinians in Israel,” and their Palestinian identity is expressed “as the most pervasive element of collective i­dentity—​­the axes of sentimental attachment, pride, patriotism, sharing of national aspirations, hopes and pains, and respect and admiration of the national symbols” (Rouhana 1997, 128). Thus, whereas these citizens attach their sentiment to the Palestinian component of their identity, Israelization lacks the positive sentiments or feeling of belonging. Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur, ­then ­member of the Knesset and former leader of the Southern Branch of the Islamic Movement, had this to say about Israelization and how the Movement seeks to respond to it: I think Israelization, Zionization, direct interference of the Israeli minister of education and other ministers in our schedules, in our schools, in our programs and so on, create a very serious danger [for our] identity. So, we have, as an Arab ­minority—​­Muslims, Christians, and ­others—​­as a whole, we have plans to oppose such kinds of Israeli interference in our daily lives. So, I am not exaggerating by saying to you that, in the last twenty years, we speak courageously about the necessity of having a certain kind of cultural autonomy. We are Arabs, we are Muslims, we are Christians, and we have our own identity. (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008)

An example of the fight against the process of Israelization was reported on the website of Eqraa (of the Northern Branch) in 2007 when the Movement announced its rejection of the new program for civil service for Palestinian citizens. The volunteer program was initiated in 2007 with the official aim of integrating Palestinian youth into Israeli society and assisting them in advancing economically. In addition to experience, the participants would receive a monthly stipend and benefits afterward, similar to those who ­completed military service (Bekker 2008). In the announcement published on the Eqraa website, the Movement declared: 123  |  Resisting “Israelization” in Israel

Civil service is against developments in our society, particularly as it is based on the Jewishness of the state and the demographic problem. Further, we are positive that the Civil Service program is based on the [state’s] security obsession and on the belief that we are a security problem that should be controlled. The civil service is a dangerous initiative aimed at disintegrating our collective identity based on our principles, beliefs, morals and devotions. (Islamic Movement announcement 2007)

The announcement ended with a message to its public, encouraging them to defend themselves against this challenge by rejecting the initiative. In the following analysis of the approaches used by the Islamic Movement to instill in their constituency an Arab Palestinian Islamic identity, this chapter focuses on the Movement’s identity construction and investigates the ideas behind the Movement’s social and political practices. These are a mixture of a desire to spread their version of Islamist ideology and practice, which is part and parcel of Islamist movements’ raison d’être, combined with a response to the particular process of Israelization that Palestinians in Israel have been exposed to since 1948. The content and related practice of the Islamic Movement’s institutions will be examined by analyzing what the Movement in Israel wants its constituency to learn from its institutions, general activism, and electronic publications. A similar approach was employed by Starrett in his study of education, politics, and religious transformation in Egypt (Starrett 1998), whereby he studied how education was used to discuss fundamental ­religio-­political issues in Egypt. While Starrett wanted to understand what the adults wanted the children to learn, the aim here is to understand what the leaders want their constituency to learn and practice; thus we can understand the components of the culture that is produced by this movement. Similar to the approach in chapter 3, the two branches are studied as a single movement, as the content and values of the identity that both branches promote are generally the same. Where there are differences between the two branches, these are duly noted.

arabization The Islamic Movement focuses on improving the Arabic spoken and literary language among its constituency. Although Palestinians tend to speak Arabic as a mother toungue, as citizens of Israel this minority has experienced a process of being “de‑Arabized.” After decades of mainly state 124  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

education, where Arabic has been a deprioritized subject, combined with living in a state where Hebrew is the dominant language in all public spheres, including higher education, media, and all state institutions, the level of Modern Standard and/or classical written Arabic has decreased among this part of the Palestinian population. In order to combat this process, the Movement’s institutions are working to reconnect Palestinian pupils with their local and Muslim identities through the Arabic language. Improving young people’s native language is also considered important as part of improving that group’s level of education generally, as spokespersons of the Movement believe that improved academic skills in the mother tongue will assist improvement in other academic fields. As such, the focus on Arabic is also part of an aspiration to improve the level of education generally among Palestinian pupils, at all levels, and students in Israel. Activities to improve the level of Arabic include not only instruction and education but also countrywide initiatives and reports, such as the report on a conference about the status of Arabic arranged by the Center for Contemporary Studies in Um al‑Faḥim (associated with the Movement), which was reported about on the website of Eqraa, the pupil and student association of the Northern Branch (Eqraa 2008b). In another article on the Eqraa website, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ is cited as stating that the crisis of Arabic among Palestinians in Israel emanates from the people and not the language, thereby passing the responsibility to the constituency itself. He stressed that the preservation of Palestinian Muslim identity is linked with the preservation of Arabic, and he encouraged more use of Modern Standard Arabic in general and specifically in the media. Another speech at the conference mentioned above stated that the crisis stems from the combination of the weakness of the people and the policy of the state that discriminates against Arabic and favors Hebrew. Discrimination of this minority in the field of education is well documented and directly related to the level of Arabic among this population. There are two separate state school systems in I­srael—​­one for Jewish students and one for Arab Palestinian students. (There are also private schools in Israel, for both Jewish and Palestinian pupils, but the focus here is on state education.) Jewish schools are subdivided into three categories: secular, national religious, and ultraorthodox schools, but there is no subdivision of Arab schools. The separation of Jewish and Arab pupils appears to appreciate the linguistic and cultural differences between these groups, but it is described by educational specialists to primarily serve the interests of the dominant Jewish group and simultaneously serve as a means by which to control the Arab population (­Abu-­Saad 2006, 131). This separation enables the state to discriminate against the Arab schools and to more actively control both the employees working in these schools and the material taught 125  |  Resisting “Israelization” in Israel

in them (­Abu-­Saad 2006). In regards to the latter, the curriculum of state schools is based on and designed to further Jewish values and history and disregards Palestinian history and national development (Swirski 1999). Generally, the main problems experienced by Palestinian pupils since the first decades of the state have remained more or less the same: they are undersupplied and suffer from p ­ oor-­quality teaching, resulting in a low level of education that consequently provides Palestinian citizens with few opportunities in life. (For details on discrepancies between Jewish and ­Palestinian education in Israel, see reports by Sikkuy). The state’s discriminatory prac­ alestinian minority tice in state education has serious implications for the P who, when compared with their Jewish counterparts, perform comparatively poorly in school. Palestinian pupils drop out of high school at nearly twice the rate of their Jewish peers: approximately 31 percent of ­Palestinian pupils drop out, compared to 16 percent of Jewish pupils (­Abu-­Saad 2006, 137). Of the Palestinian students that do attempt to enroll in university, only about 30 percent of candidates pass the compulsory psychometric matriculation exam, whereas the pass rate is 46.8 percent for Jewish candidates (­Abu-­Saad 2006, 137). At the point that the Palestinian Arab educational system merges with the Jewish system, the psychometric exam serves as a gatekeeper, barring Palestinian students from admittance or from entry into the field of their choice because they “are not good enough,” or “not as good as” their Jewish counterparts. (­Abu-­Saad 2006, 137)

A Human Rights Watch report published in 2001 describes the state education system for Palestinians in Israel in these terms: The hurdles Arab students face from kindergarten to university functions like a series of sieves with sequentially finer holes. At each stage, the education system filters out a higher proportion of Palestinian Arab students than Jewish students. (Human Rights Watch 2001)

From the very establishment of the state in 1948, the Israeli government has prioritized security concerns above education with regard to its ­Palestinian population, and from this perspective the Israeli approach to Arabic has generally been to view it mainly as the language of the enemy. The view of Palestinian citizens as potential enemies is evident in the hiring of teachers in the Arab schools, where the state exercises control over appointments and, until 2005, all teachers were vetted by the Israeli internal security apparatus, the 126  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Shin Bet (the General Security Services). According to ­Abu-­Saad: “Qualifications and training alone are not enough for indigenous Palestinian Arab citizens in Israel to get a teaching job; rather, they must also undergo a security ­check—​­to get the secret stamp of approval of Shin Bet” (­Abu-­Saad 2006, 135). This applied only to Palestinian teachers, not Jewish teachers, and was a mechanism used to “eliminate educators who openly express a Palestinian national identity from the school system” (­Abu-­Saad 2006, 135). Another direct consequence of this security approach to Arabic education was that Palestinians in Israel experienced a shortage of Arabic textbooks well into the 1960s (A. R. Peled 2001, 109). Still, in the first decade of the ­twenty-­first century, teachers complain about lack of good Arabic teaching material (HILA parent activists Interview 2004, 2005, and 2006). The authorities were reluctant to import any such material from Arab states considered to be enemy states, and there were not enough qualified educators among the Palestinians in Israel to write substitute books. An example of a more recent continuation of this policy critiqued on the Eqraa website is the ban on books published in Syria and Lebanon. The Islamic Movement is opposed to this ban, arguing that the “decision [to ban the books] violates the right to knowledge, culture, education and academic freedom for Arabic speakers and those who want to learn the language” (Eqraa 2008a). Arabic was an official language in Israel until 2018, when it was downgraded to a “special status” by the new N ­ ation-­State Law, which states: “The state’s language is Hebrew. The Arabic language has a special status in the state; Regulating the use of Arabic in state institutions or by them will be set in law” (Wootliff 2018). Even when it was an official language, it was inferior to Hebrew in practice and under constant threat from ­right-­wing politicians who tried to demote its status. This constant threat to, and the 2018 final demotion of, the status of the native language of more than 20 percent of the population of Israel is another indication of the s­ econd-­class status of these citizens. As described by Mendel, from the Jewish Israelis’ point of view, Arabic is the language of the enemy, and thus it is used mainly as an instrument in the conflict between them and their ­Arabic-­speaking foes (Mendel 2014). Mendel explains that this security perspective has also influenced the way Arabic is taught to ­non-­Arabic speakers in Israel. The focus is not on understanding the language as part of a culture one wishes to get to know, as with most other language studies, but rather it is taught in an impersonal and sterile manner aimed at decoding behavior by potential and suspected enemies (Mendel 2014). The deprioritization of Arabic in Israeli education and society is, for Palestinian citizens, one side of the language coin. The other side is the need to learn Hebrew, particularly when Palestinian students reach institutions 127  |  Resisting “Israelization” in Israel

of higher education. Fluency in Hebrew is absolutely necessary in order to participate in institutions of higher education and to interact effectively with the institutions of the state. Consequently, today higher education students commonly express that their use of Arabic has become limited to use in the home and in communication within the community, while their professional and academic language is Hebrew (Interviews with students, 2008 and 2009). In addition to this development, contemporary spoken Arabic in Israel has, since 1948, naturally become infused with Hebrew words and slang, to the dissatisfaction of some. In order to improve the level of academic Arabic among its constituency, the Islamic Movement places the promotion of the status of the language among its top priorities. It has established educational institutions for its constituency and provides courses to help pupils and students improve their academic levels in Arabic, as well as Hebrew and other subjects. For example, during my tour of Kafr Qasim, I was taken to the Movement’s institutions providing services to people ranging in age from young children to young adults. Similar to the network of Islamic Social Institutions of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, the institutions of the Islamic Movement in Israel are a response to the failed social welfare system of the state and represents “ideology through action” (Clark 2004, 12). For the youngest, the Islamic Movement in Kafr Qasim has built and runs two large kindergartens, which provided care to more than 550 children at the time of the visit in 2012, according to my guides. For the youth, the Movement has built and administrates sports facilities throughout the town; runs the Dar al‑Qur’an Al‑ Kareem’ Youth Club; arranges Qur’anic lessons; and runs a School of Excellence that offers extracurricular courses for pupils. About 60 percent of the attending children are boys and 40 percent are girls, according to ʿ Īsā Ghāzy at the Qur’an school (Ghāzy Interview 2013). In addition, Maysāʾ ʿUmar, headmistress of the Madrasa School of Excellence, described offering Saturday classes in art and music, noting that most of the children’s families could not afford taking these classes unless they were sponsored by the Movement (ʿUmar Interview 2013). The leader of Eqraa, Muḥamad Farrān, explained how the Movement’s organization assists Palestinian students to motivate pupils to continue their education at university or college. For example, one of the main undertakings of Eqraa is to offer free courses to ­high-­school pupils in order to assist potential university students in passing the compulsory psychometric university entry test, which is conducted in Hebrew. According to an educational adviser at the al‑Kalām student association, Sāmy Badawy, they start to prepare pupils for this test a couple of years ­before—​­the preparations are gradual and involve Hebrew skills and methodology, as well as practice 128  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

questions (Badawy Interview 2012). Eqraa staff and volunteers also assist in the process of application to higher education institutions. At university, when new Palestinian students arrive, Eqraa activists are on hand to welcome them, show them around campus, and help them in getting settled and familiarized. Even though the activists are all Muslim and religiously observant, they assist all new Palestinian students, irrespective of their faith or level of observance. This support is particularly important in the first year of university, when Palestinian students have to manage the transition from high school, including moving from living with parents at home to living in university dormitories in large cities dominated by Jewish Israelis and their culture and having to rapidly improve their academic Hebrew, which for most was merely a rote subject at school and not a practiced language. In interviews conducted for this research, many university students emphasized that their insufficiency in Hebrew made it difficult to follow lectures and keep up with readings and resulted in them lacking the confidence to participate effectively in ­class—​­all major hindrances to academic development (Students 2009). As a result, they described how their grades suffered and that they lost time compared to their Jewish peers. In order to make the transition to ­Hebrew-­based education easier, Eqraa activists assist new students with Hebrew and homework, especially during their first and second years of study. While this emphasis on teaching Hebrew may seem ironic considering the Movement’s concern over Arabic, in practice it testifies to the pragmatic, realistic, and practical attitude of the Movement toward the needs of, and the support it provides to, its constituency.

palestinization The Islamic Movement considers it a high priority to educate the young generation about the recent past and to provide them with knowledge of the Palestinian narrative of historical and current events, in contrast to the official Israeli narratives that they are taught in state school and exposed to in Israeli society and media. Despite the separate school systems operated by the state for Jewish and Arab pupils, the Israeli curriculum does not permit the teaching of Palestinian history in Arab schools. The curriculum of state schools is based on and designed to further “Jewish values and history” and disregards Palestinian history and national development (Al‑Haj 1995). According to ­Abu-­Saad, “The current ­state-­controlled educational systems in Israel continue to delegitimise the identity of the indigenous Palestinian Arabs, with a particular emphasis upon suppressing its development within the school system” (­Abu-­Saad 2006). 129  |  Resisting “Israelization” in Israel

Consequently, several academics in Israel have criticized the state for attempting to instill patriotic Israeli/Zionist sentiments in Arab pupils while ignoring Palestinian history and culture (Al‑Haj 1995; ­Abu-­Saad 2004; Swirski 1999). The goals of Jewish studies in Palestinian Arab education are to implant in the pupils understanding and sympathy with the Jewish and Zionist cause, while Palestinian history and culture is ignored in Israeli state education (­Abu-­Saad 2003, 20). By way of example, ­Abu-­Saad notes that, despite efforts to refresh and revise the Israeli curriculum in the 1990s, no geographical maps of ­pre-­1948 Palestinian settlements are published in the revised textbooks (­Abu-­Saad, 2003: 19). Moreover, in Israeli textbooks, Palestinians and Arabs are portrayed as “murderers,” “rioters,” and “suspicious” and are often characterized as backward and unproductive as the “Oriental Other” (­Abu-­Saad 2003, 19). As an illustration of the state’s censorship of the Palestinian narrative, in 2009 the education minister ordered removal of the word “Nakba” from a school textbook intended for Arab pupils (Black 2009). This action was defended by the ­then ­education minister, Gideon Saar, with the rationale that “the objective of the education system is not to deny the legitimacy of our state, nor promote extremism among ­Arab-­Israelis” (Black 2009). In response, Palestinian members of the Knesset subsequently accused the government of “Nakba denial” and of obstructing the rights of this minority to preserve its collective memory (Black 2009). One way in which the Islamic Movement introduces its Palestinian narrative to the younger generation is through the Eqraa website of the Northern Branch, which features many articles about the Nakba. The articles vary from introducing analyses of the events of 1­ 947–­1948 to providing information about commemorative events. For example, two books on the Nakba are introduced: one, The Nakba: The Bleeding Palestinian Wound, was published by the Movement’s Center for Contemporary Studies in Um al‑Faḥim, and the other, Deir Yassin . . . ​An Unforgettable Memory, was written by Walīd Yassin (Eqraa 2006d; Yasin 2007). Another article provides information about upcoming events, such as the commemoration of the Nakba involving a speech by the deputy leader of the Northern Branch, Kamāl Khaṭīb, organized by the Eqraa student organization at Tel Aviv University. The variety in sources and focus of the publications promoted, and the initiatives taken by the Movement to teach the youth about their own past, are indicative of the Movement’s openness to academic and secular sources, in addition to their own representation of past events. The Southern Islamic Movement’s youth department in Kafr Qasim also focuses on educating youth about the Nakba, according to its director, Ṣafwān Frij. At the end of my visit to the Dar Al‑Qur’an Al‑Kareem’ Youth 130  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Club in 2010, Frij provided me with a map that had just been distributed in the club depicting Mandate Palestine in 1948 prior to Israel’s establishment and illustrating the location of Palestinian villages that were subsequently depopulated and/or erased from official Israeli maps. Frij explained that the Movement places emphasis on teaching youth their Palestinian history, which they are not taught in school, by using the local museum commemorating the Kafr Qasim massacre in 1957 and other similar facilities around the country; organizing trips to former and present Palestinian villages and towns; and giving lectures about places and events. In addition to teaching the younger generation about the victimization of Palestinians, the Islamic Movement teaches them about acts of protest and resistance by Palestinians in Israel since 1948. In March 2009, the Eqraa website published an article attempting to persuade its young followers to attend that year’s Land Day commemoration: “The committee for follow up of the Arab education issues encourages the Arab schools to have educational, cultural activities about the Land Day” (Eqraa 2009). Remembering the first Land Day, Father Shehadeh Shehadeh, the organizer of the first Land Day, emphasized the significance of the Movement’s leaders’ participation, which provided the Movement momentum to establish itself as a voice for Palestinian Muslims in Israel. Land Day remains the largest annual mass demonstration of Palestinians in Israel, with several large demonstrations occurring across the country as well as in the occupied Palestinian territory and in the Palestinian diaspora, with participants from all denominations and political groups. In addition to focusing on the history of Palestinians in Israel, the Movement distributes information about research and analysis of the current predicament of Palestinians in Israel in order to educate its constituency about the facts and ramifications of their situation. For example, the Eqraa website has published many articles concerning new research on the status and experience of Palestinian citizens of Israel. These include an article presenting a study by Dr. Majid Al Haj on “Palestinian Education in Israel: Between Control and the Culture of Silence” (Eqraa 2006b) and another by Dr. Khalid Abu Osba on “The Educational System in ­Israel—​­Structure, Content, Trends and Methods” (Eqraa 2006c). In addition, speeches that these scholars gave at an ­Eqraa-­sponsored event are published on the website (Eqraa 2006e). By distributing this research, the Islamic Movement seeks to educate its youth about their position and status as Palestinian citizens of Israel and about the implications their predicament has for their individual and collective life and future prospects, in this case specifically vis‑à‑vis education. As the activities described above indicate, Islamic Movement activists continuously structure their activism with the intention of preserving and 131  |  Resisting “Israelization” in Israel

reinforcing the Palestinian and Muslim identity of Muslim Palestinian citizens of Israel, despite their presence in the Jewish state. Interviewees were aware of the balancing act this predicament necessitates and were willing to discuss it openly. To illustrate, Frij reflected on the Israeli sociopolitical context and Kafr Qasim’s proximity to Tel Aviv, emphasizing the need to be able to interact with the different culture existing there while being aware of the temptations this city offers that the Islamic Movement would prefer its constituency not indulge in: Taking into account Kafr Qasim’s geographical location, in the center of Israel, with its proximity to the Tel Aviv metropolitan area, our role is to preserve the adequate norms of practicing our religion, social habits, customary teachings, and cultural identity while at the same time maintaining some flexibility and the ability to correspond with our surroundings. (Frij Interview 2012)

Frij continued by explaining that the objective of the Movement (reflected in its slogan “Islam Is the Solution”) centers on the construction of man and homeland, as well as being aware of the limitations caused by the Israeli context: We aim to educate our people according to our religious Islamic principles and character, which are tightly linked to Arab nationalism and the Palestinian specifics, but at the same time we take into account that we are Israeli citizens, thus we are required to accommodate this. (Frij Interview 2012)

In order to further emphasize the need for Palestinization, the ­Northern Branch has tried to engage its supporters and others in the boycott of ­settlement products from the occupied West Bank and Golan Heights. These ­efforts are viewed as being in compliance with the Palestinian Boycott Divestment and Sanctions campaign and demonstrating support for that initiative from inside Israel. In addition to exhibiting solidarity with Palestinians in the occupied West Bank and Gaza, a related aim of the Movement’s support for the boycott is to spread awareness among Palestinians about the economic dimension of the occupation and their ability to protest against this on a daily basis. As Eqraa youth leader Bāsil described in our interview, Palestinian youth in Israel have little or no connection with Palestinians in the occupied Palestinian territory, and Eqraa believes it has a responsibility to reconnect these communities in order to overcome their imposed separation to counteract the state’s efforts to “erase” Palestinian identity (Bāsil Interview 2012). 132  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

islamization Like several other Islamist movements, the slogan of the Islamic Movement in Israel is “Islam Is the Solution.” One of the first elements of the process of Israelization targeted for redress by the bourgeoning Islamic Movement was the Israelization of the Sunni Muslim religious leadership in Israel through its disintegration and co‑option. As described in chapter 1, by the 1960s the shortage of Muslim religious judges and functionaries had become pressing due to a combination of factors. Most of the Palestinian intelligentsia had fled or were expelled in 1948 during the conflict, which Israel refers to as its “War of Independence” and Palestinians acknowledge as the “Nakba.” The intelligentsia that left included many local and regional religious functionaries; those who remained aged; and the Israeli state failed to respond adequately to address these developments. Following the war in 1967, which resulted in Israel’s occupation of Arab lands, including East Jerusalem, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip, Palestinians living inside Israel gained access to the Palestinian population and religious teaching institutions in this newly occupied territory. From the late 1970s, the shaykhs who had been educated in the West Bank and elsewhere began to fill the vacuum of Muslim religious functionaries in Israel. These same shaykhs later became the leaders of the Islamic Movement. In order to educate new local religious leaders, the Movement now runs an Islamic college in Um al‑Faḥim and also sends students abroad, mainly to Jordan. In addition to ensuring that the ranks of religious leaders remain replenished and supporting their education, the Islamic Movement focuses its religious education on the Muslim population in general. Between 1948 and 1967, the Palestinian population inside Israel had undergone a process of secularization or, more correctly, ­de-­religionization. This was the result of several factors. Muslims and Christians in Israel were disconnected from the rest of the Muslim and Arab world after 1948; in the case of the Muslim population, they were left with a small and aging group of clergy and were exposed to a state educational system that favored Jewish subjects over Arab and Islamic history and Judaism over other religions. Moreover, those charged with designing and implementing the state curricula were generally ­secular-­minded (A. R. Peled 2001, 119). Consequently, the older generation was concerned about the resulting lack of religious knowledge among the younger generations and the alienation of youth from religion as well as their tendency or potential to view religion as representing backward traditionalism (A. R. Peled 2001, 119). Until the establishment of the Islamic Movement, Muslim Palestinian pupils and students in Israel did not have access to any religious schools or 133  |  Resisting “Israelization” in Israel

classes; they were required to spend twice as much classroom time studying Jewish studies as they spent on Islamic studies at secondary school level; and despite some minor reforms in the 1960s, the ­Israeli-­controlled Arab educational system remained secularized and ­security-­oriented in its approach (A. R. Peled 2001). Due to this situation, Christian and Muslim leaders repeatedly criticized the study of religion in Arab schools, to little avail. Christians, in particular Catholics, were more successful in their demands for reform, likely due to state fears of antagonizing the Catholic Church and allies in the West (A. R. Peled 2001, ­113–­14). Thus, former Knesset member for the Southern Branch ʿAbbās Zakur emphasized that the primary agenda of the newly established Movement was to (re)introduce Islam to the Muslims in I­ srael—​­to teach them about Islam (Zakur Interview 2008). To this end, until the late 1980s, the Movement would invite male and female preachers from the West Bank and Gaza to give talks at mosques about Islam. Another important feature of the Movement’s efforts to reintroduce Islam is the network of mosques the Movement built around the country. The town of Kafr Qasim provides an illuminating example. According to ʿĀdil Bdair, former lawyer in Adalah and mayor of Kafr Qasim since 2013 representing the Islamic Movement, there was only one mosque in Kafr Qasim before the Islamic Movement was established. Today, there are seven mosques, the additional six having been built as a result of the Movement’s financial donations and through its work camps (presented in chapter 1) (Bdair Interview 2010). This focus on mosques is similar to how the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt built its “parallel Islamic sector” (Wickham 2002). In addition to importing teachers and building mosques, the Movement hires imams. By way of illustration, of the seven imams currently working in Kafr Qasim, three receive salaries from the state, while the salaries of the other four are covered by donations to the Movement (Bdair Interview 2010). The importance placed on ­mosque-­building in Israel mirrors the fact that local mosques constitute the most important link in the outreach network of the Islamic movement in Egypt (Wickham 2002). As in Egypt, in these mosques they offered not only prayer and religious guidance but also classes on Islam and related topics, provided libraries for studying and reading groups, and held holiday celebrations. Also similar to the Egyptian case, this Islamic activism was nonpolitical in its nature and therefore unthreatening to join for Muslim individuals, who in the case of Palestinian citizens of Israel might be wary of joining a political activity, and also not threatening to the state that allowed it to develop (Wickham 2002). Kamāl Khaṭīb of the Northern Branch also described the daʿwa work of the Islamic Movement as the main focus of the Movement in its initial 134  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

years (K. Khaṭīb Interview 2008). As written in the introduction, Wickham describes daʿwa as a continuation of Prophet Muḥamad’s outreach to the polytheists in ­Mecca—​­in other words, an internal Muslim invitation to a certain interpretation of an Islamic life that can take place on several ­levels—​­between individuals, through institutions, or through printed or other media (Wickham 2002). In the Egyptian case, Wickham has described how from the 1970s there was a process of fragmentation of religious authority, whereby daʿwa was no longer led by the ulama (religious leadership) connected to the religious Al‑Azhar University but began to be led by ­self-­taught graduates of secular universities. As in the case of the Islamic Movement’s activists in Israel, the targets of the activism of these Egyptian graduates are “ordinary Muslims,” and the aim is to eventually change the entire state and society as envisioned in the slogan din wa‑dawla (religion and state) (Wickham 2002, 126). The methodology of the approach adopted by Islamist movements in both Egypt and Israel is that activists should start by focusing their energies on encouraging individuals to adopt a more religious lifestyle and worldview as a first step. The second step is to focus on transforming the local community into one that is more religiously observant. The thesis of this approach is that, eventually, the entire society will have been transformed, ultimately pushing the state to follow suit. In 2007, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ introduced the concept of the Movement’s Vanguards in an article published on the Eqraa website, and his description of the qualities and responsibilities of individuals to be included in this elite group of Islamist activists sums up the epitome of the new Palestinian Muslim: “Then we can say this vanguard is part of a contemporary Islamic movement based on the principles of the Sunna and the group, contributing to the integral, ­non-­confrontational Islamic rise” (Ṣalāḥ 2006). According to Ṣalāḥ, these individuals need to exhibit the best behavior; level of worship; morals; and the highest degree of loyalty and generosity, as well as being “pure of any sins.” Their tasks are to assist the weak through education and daʿwa, work in teams, and follow the example of the “martyr Ḥasan al‑Bannā.” Many scholars have tried to explain the success of Islamists in attracting the support of the masses. According to Wickham, i­nterest-­based explanations for the ability of the Egyptian movement to mobilize its supporters are relevant (Kepel 2003), but they do not take into consideration the agency of the activists or the motivational dimension of that movement’s popularity. This agency and motivation are embodied in the daʿwa perspective that Wickham understands as “ideas [that] influence action” (Wickham 2002, 148). This applies equally in the case of the Islamic Movement in Israel, which focuses exclusively on local activism and the Muslim population and 135  |  Resisting “Israelization” in Israel

does not aim to transform the state into one that applies and adheres to Islamic law. As a national religious minority, this pragmatism reflects an understanding of the limitations of the Movement’s opportunities. As explained by Ṣarṣur in chapter 3, the leaders of the Islamic Movement are very aware of their limitation as a national and religious minority in the Jewish state and do not envision an Islamic state in Israel but instead focus on encouraging Islamist development and ­self-­reliance among their own constituency (Ṣarṣur Interview 2008). When describing the daʿwa of the Islamic Movement in Israel, Khaṭīb listed activities such as building kindergartens; building clinics, sports clubs, and other communal leisure facilities for communities; publishing; and organizing volunteer work camps around the country. The first magazine published was called al‑Sur āṭ (“The Way”). Today the Movement publishes several publications catering to a mixed audience, including Īshraqa (“Radiance”), a magazine published for and by women. Thus, since the 1980s, the Movement has been in the process of building the infrastructure for an autonomous network of institutions to serve Palestinian citizens of Israel infused with its religious identity. The Islamic Movement’s institutions are open for use by all Palestinians in Israel, and their leisure centers and clinics are used by some Christian and Muslim Palestinians. Specific initiatives that the Movement undertakes in order to provide pastoral care for, and promote the Islamization of, the Palestinian Muslim community in Israel are: Islamic weddings; public religious speeches; and organizing visits to holy sites, such as al‑Āqṣā mosque in Jerusalem, other religious sites around the country, and al‑ʿUmra pilgrimages to Mecca. Several of the interviewees mentioned the growth in popularity of Islamic weddings as an important example of the Islamization of Palestinian society in Israel (Zakur Interview 2008; K. Khaṭīb Interview 2008; Bdair Interview 2010). These weddings are characterized by Islamic music, a prohibition on alcohol, segregation between men and women, and modest clothing. Bdair ­estimates that, before the Islamic Movement was established, one in ten weddings was Islamic (Bdair Interview 2010). Now he estimates that one in ten is not. As the popularity of Islamic weddings has increased, so has the demand for Islamic music. Kafr Qasim is the hometown of Asserat, a popular Islamic singing group. The group travels all over the country to entertain at weddings and other events. It has a studio facility in Kafr Qasim that I visited, and it maintains its own website (www.alsserat.com). As also discussed in chapter 3, an important part of the Islamization agenda includes efforts focused on connecting Palestinians in Israel with the al‑Āqṣā holy site and al‑Quds. The aims of this are fourfold: to connect the individual Muslim with this holy site; to preserve the site; to connect 136  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Palestinians living in Israel with those living in occupied East Jerusalem in order to show solidarity; and to assist East Jerusalemites in their economic hardship. In speeches by local, regional, and national leaders of the Islamic Movement, a principal theme is the centrality and holiness of al‑Āqṣā mosque and al‑Quds. In the Movement’s leaders’ speeches about al‑Āqṣā and al‑Quds, there is usually an emphasis on history, thereby educating followers about, and seeking to legitimize, Muslim and Palestinian rights to this site. In addition, the speeches tend to focus on the need to protect and liberate this religious site and to preserve the Palestinian character of the city. The text of these speeches is then published on the Movement’s Eqraa website for further distribution. The titles of speeches by Kamāl Khaṭīb illustrate the themes: “Allah Is My God” (Khaṭīb 2006); “On the 38th Anniversary of the Burning of al‑Āqṣā ­Mosque—​­A Call and a Warning Against the Dangers That Surround It” (Khaṭīb 2007b); “al‑­Āqṣā—​­Closer to Liberation” (Khaṭīb 2009); and “From the Nakba Wound” (Khaṭīb 2007a). In sum, the Movement is teaching and preaching Islam to its constituency at all levels within the community, using all the tools available to them, seeking to make itself relevant to old and young and simultaneously working to maintain traditions. A small measure of the success of these activities is the primacy of Muslim identity among the younger population. Out of the ­fifty-­three students who responded to my survey, 48.8 percent replied that the most accurate term to describe their identity was “Muslim,” compared to 20.9 percent who responded “Palestinian citizens of Israel,” 17.4 percent “Arab,” and 12.9 percent “Other” (Rosmer 2012b).

conclusion Being an Islamist movement in the Jewish state, as opposed to a state with a ­Muslim-­majority population, has influenced the unique goals and focus of the activism of this Islamic Movement. As such, the interrelated processes of Islamization, Palestinization, and Arabization are responses to the processes of Israelization that this minority community has been exposed to by both state and society since Israel’s establishment in 1948. As Starrett did with educational institutions in Egypt, by studying what the Movement wants its community to learn through participation in the activities in its various educational institutions and other associations, we learn about its religious, cultural, and political perspectives and priorities (Starrett 1998). The content produced and distributed in these institutions and associations teaches us about the motivation and the goals of the Movement. These are 137  |  Resisting “Israelization” in Israel

based on their interrelated circles of belonging, namely being Muslim, Palestinian, and Arab. In its institutions and associations, the Islamic Movement in Israel is reintroducing Islamic education for future religious leaders and the general public; building mosques; and arranging tours to holy sites throughout the country (and Jerusalem in particular)—​­all activities motivated by the Movement’s aims to repair the de‑religionization process that this community has experienced since 1948 and to encourage the adoption of an observant Islamic lifestyle by the younger generation. Related to these aims is the aim to (re‑)Palestinize the Palestinians in Israel, in terms of teaching them a Palestinian historical narrative and building an awareness of the community’s predicament that aligns with the Palestinian nationalist framing of the ­Israeli-­Palestinian conflict. This is considered particularly important because Palestinian citizens of Israel are not taught a Palestinian narrative in school, and narratives that deviate from the official Zionist narrative are not easily accessible from mainstream (Hebrew) media or society. The Movement hopes that, by addressing this lacuna, those individuals who have been (re)educated by the Movement will, in turn, pass on a firm Palestinian identity to the next generation of Palestinian citizens of Israel. To illustrate, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ has explained that he conceives of himself as the link between the Nakba generation of Palestinians in Israel and the new generation that did not experience the Nakba of 1948 (Ṣalāḥ Interview 2011). Connected with both of the processes of Islamization and Palestinization is the aim of Arabization, including the aim of improving the level of Arabic among its constituency, which has suffered due to the problems with the quality of the Arabic teaching in state schools and the general dominance of Hebrew in Israeli educational institutions and society. Arabic is considered important by the Movement in order to facilitate a better understanding of the Qur’an and other religious texts and engagement with the wider Arab world including the consumption of Arabic media, as well as being an imperative component of the Muslim Arab Palestinian identity it seeks to champion.

138  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

c h a pter f i v e

Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

I

n november 20 1 3, i interviewed ra’ed ṣal āḥ, leader of the Northern Branch, for the third time. This was the second time we had met in his office in Um al‑Faḥim. As in every Islamic Movement office I visited while conducting research for this study, this office had a model (which in some offices was represented instead by a poster) of the Dome of the Rock and al‑Āqṣā as the centerpiece of the table where the sweets and coffee were served. On this occasion I was with a group of researchers from University of Oslo, whereas the first time we had met in his office I was alone with a young female translator. On both occasions, Ṣalāḥ was accompanied by his aide and his lawyer, but the second time there was also an entourage of leaders and activists sitting opposite us on the large comfortable chairs that had been set under the customary large photo of al‑Āqṣā. Next to the seated men were the “sisters” of the Movement, numbering about a third of the representatives. After the meeting was over, these female activists took us on a tour of the town and to visit the headquarters of their own organization, Sannad. “This is where Islamic activism really happens,” our guide said to us proudly and with a ­wink—​­presumably in reference to the ­male-­dominated meeting we had just attended. It is here that these women plan, organize, and strategize their activism across the country. This activism takes many forms, from arranging trips to Jerusalem and al‑Āqṣā to providing basic courses in life skills and family counseling. As an example, our interlocuters mentioned the problem of ­honor-­killings among Muslims in the Naqab/Negev, where, according to them, Muslim men have 139

misunderstood Islam or use the religion as an excuse to commit acts of domestic violence. Another issue they tackle is polygamy. Although permissible in Islam, Sannad takes the position that this tradition is harmful to families and especially to women and that it is too expensive for contemporary Muslims (in Israel) to practice in fairness. Sannad’s headquarters also houses their magazine, Īshraqa, aimed at Muslim women. It contains articles on modest fashion, childrearing issues, furniture and décor, and Islamic topics. As our guide informed me, Sannad’s members see their domestic responsibilities as integral to the Movement’s agenda. “We are half of society and in charge of the main part of the upbringing of our sons and ­daughters—​­this is the heart of our activism.” The increasingly s­elf-­reliant, ­Islamic-­styled society is not unique to the Islamic Movement in Israel but is rather a key feature of most Islamist movements and is adopted from the model of its mother movement, the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. Just as the latter constitutes a “parallel Islamic sector” in Egypt, the Islamic Movement in Israel constitutes a conglomerate of ­semi-­independent institutions and organizations that foster Islamization from the bottom up (Wickham 2002). In Egypt, Islamic mobilization was in part a response to the particular authoritarian context in which it developed. Young university graduates joined the movement because they heeded a persuasive call to perform activism for God, despite the potential risks this involved. According to Wickham, the main motivating force behind Egyptian Islamist engagement is religious, combined with the opportunities provided by the nonpolitical settings used for this activism. ­Daʿwa—​ ­religious advocacy, also described as the “new, activist interpretation of the Islamic faith” (Wickham 2002, 15)—​­involves encouraging other Muslims to live a life according to the rules and tradition of the religion and is of central importance to Islamist activists. Thus, according to this argument, religious ideas are of great significance when individuals choose to participate actively in ­socio-­religious movements. Another perspective on the motivating force for Egyptian Islamist activism holds that associational networks and the benefits they provide, not just their (religious) ideas, draw individuals into participation (Clark 2004). Both perspectives agree that social institutions are a means of putting daʿwa into practice and that these institutions challenge the secular authoritarian Arab state. Although the Islamic Movement in Israel has developed, is based on, and employs to a large extent the same methodology of daʿwa and Islamization from below, being anchored in local activism and initiatives, this movement 140  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

differs from other regional movements because of the specific ­non-­Muslim context in which the indigenous Sunni Muslim population constitutes a minority (together with fellow Palestinians of the Christian and Druze faith groups). The sui generis predicament of Palestinians in Israel has resulted in this movement adopting pragmatic political and social positions while maintaining adherence to the broad approach of s­elf-­reliance. Moreover, in addition to the ­religio-­political goals it shares with other Islamist ­movements, the Movement in Israel is also combating Israelization in the social, political, and cultural spheres. Therefore, it is impossible to compartmentalize the attraction of this movement as being either purely religious, political, or instrumental in inspiration. The Islamic Movement’s mobilization of ­Palestinians in Israel must be understood in a context that has produced unique religious, social, political, and cultural needs. It is nearly impossible to differentiate between or segregate the identification of these needs: the religious is political, and the social is religious.

female activists In several interviews conducted during the course of researching the Islamic Movement in Israel, I was told that women, rather than men, were often the first member of their family to take steps toward an Islamic lifestyle and Islamist activism. Far from being coerced by male members of their family, they often introduced their husbands and/or families to revivalist Islam. An example is Kāmil Rayān’s wife, who became active in the Movement before him as described in chapter 2. Another example is Najāḥ Saṭil, who is considered a pioneer among the women in the Islamic Movement. Saṭil was in her forties when I interviewed her in 2008 and belongs to the first generation of female Islamist activists in Israel. Her story serves to illuminate the mixture of political, social, and religious motivations for becoming an Islamist activist in Israel as a native Palestinian and n ­ on-­Jewish citizen. Saṭil is from the mixed city of Jaffa, where she works for the local sharīʿa court as an arbitrator and is considered to be one of the informal female leaders of the Southern Branch. She is married to Shaykh Slīmān Saṭil, the local imam, who also is the local representative of the Southern Branch of the Movement; and she has four children and also grandchildren. As a child, Saṭil attended a Christian school in a predominantly Jewish neighborhood. She described her parents as traditional Muslims who were not religious and were “good simple people, who taught me to adapt to the situation and be a good citizen” (Saṭil Interview 2008). She described not knowing much about Islam or her Palestinian identity when she grew up. As 141  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

a young teenager she began asking questions about who she was and about her Palestinian identity and history. Her ignorance about Palestinian history was a result of the process of Israelization (discussed in chapter 4). Saṭil’s understanding of and engagement with her Palestinian and Muslim identity was enhanced when she transferred to a Muslim high school in the 1990s, where she was taught about Islam; this increased her appetite to learn more about her religion and national identity: I found myself in this situation, knowing that we live in such a diverse society, with people of many different roots; therefore you need something to identify yourself, to be a part of the group. You have your identity; you have your classification. At that time, thank God, I succeeded, and religion really helped me see the other [the Jewish Israeli] as the other and not to assimilate myself in the other and be part of the other, which substantially is not me. (Saṭil Interview 2008)

In the 1990s, Saṭil was one of the initiators of one of the first Islamist groups for women in Israel. She described how the group was established to assist Muslim women in “forming their identity and returning to the roots and begin to live, in my view, with the new true identity.” The focus was on strengthening women in their personal lives and increasing their knowledge about their rights according to Islam. Today the organization is part of the larger Southern Islamic Movement; in Saṭil’s words: “We are like a movement in the [Islamic] movement.” She emphasized that they work within the framework of Israeli law and that their activism is “nonthreatening” to the state and Jewish Israeli citizens. Her organization was part of the many new women’s organizations connected to the Islamic Movement that appeared in the 1990s in Palestinian cities, towns, and villages in Israel and that focused on charitable, educational, and social programs for women and children (Daoud 2009). From my interviews with female Islamist activists, three shared aims become clear: to improve the situation of Palestinians in Israel; to challenge patriarchal traditions and practices; and to practice d ­ aʿwa—​­to teach and preach the correct version of Islam as interpreted by these interviewees. To illustrate, Saṭil argues that women’s rights, gender equality, and social justice are Islamic values, and she advocates conducting rereadings of the Qur’an and other religious texts to support these claims. She told me: In the last century, women have been deprived by the way Islam was deviated from, and all the ideas of Islam were really distorted, 142  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

and parts of Islam were taken out and applied to women. Women were not allowed to go out, not allowed to lead a private life, even an independent economic life has been forbidden as if she is owned by or under domination and not a partner to a husband or to a man in ­society—​­she was really under domination. Today, we are more exposed to religion, to all these issues that were not true, but only convenient to the “male” society to subjugate women [so they would] be just women who remain at home, housewives, not individuals with independent lives who make decisions and express their opinions and have a status. (Saṭil Interview 2008)

Saṭil’s views are echoed by my interviewee from the editorial board of the women’s magazine Īshraqa, published by the Northern Branch. She told me that one of the problems for Muslim women in the Naqab/Negev regions of the country is that men misunderstand Islam and think they can decide everything and use violence against women, but through the guidance from preachers and online education they are teaching men and women in the Naqab/Negev that Islam gives rights to women (Īshraqa Interview 2013). Women studying Islam is not a new phenomenon among Palestinian citizens of Israel. From the early days of the Islamic Movement’s development in the 1970s and 1980s, not only men but also women went to West Bank cities, in particular to Nablus and Hebron, to study Islam at the seminaries there and gave religious lectures to female audiences in Israel after returning to Israel. This flow of religious learning has since stopped because the Israeli government no longer permits Palestinian citizens to be educated in the occupied Palestinian territory.

student activists In the 1950s, there were only a handful of female Palestinian students at Israeli universities, but between the ­mid-­1980s and the 1990s, the proportion of Palestinian students in Israeli universities who were women increased from around 30 percent to over 50 (Ali 2013). The relatively high proportion of Palestinian women in higher educational institutions in Israel is attributed to the fact that “all segments of Palestinians in Israel, regardless of their gender, strongly support higher education among women” (Daoud 2009, 66). The fact that women (and men) today have more opportunities to receive higher education is changing Palestinian society in Israel. Previously, for Palestinians in Israel, having many children was an expression of nationalism and opposition to Israeli state polices that was interpreted 143  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

as designed to lower the birthrate among Arab citizens in order to win the assumed “demographic war” (Daoud 2009). Today the new discourse among Palestinians in Israel centers on limiting Palestinian birthrates among the educated professional middle class as a new method in the same national struggle. The students interviewed for this research are part of the latter discourse. Female Islamist activist students said that they want to continue their studies and/or work after becoming a wife and also, if possible, after becoming a mother. As such, these students challenge the traditional model of a stay‑at‑home mother and also that of the mother who works in a convenient job near her home that is not necessarily according to her education. Since the split of the Movement, Eqraa and al‑Kalām, the educational and social organizations of the Northern and the Southern Branches respectively, have catered to pupils and students. Both branches of the Islamic Movement in Israel focus a considerable amount of effort on education for both female and male pupils and students. Both associations work in coordination with Arab high schools in villages and towns across Israel to encourage pupils to pursue higher education and to prepare them for university entrance exams. These tests are difficult for any Israeli student, but Palestinian pupils are at a disadvantage because the tests are in Hebrew, a language they learn only as a second language at school and rarely practice before entering university, and because the content is based on Jewish Israeli culture and lifestyle. Therefore, these associations bring in other students to tutor and prepare the pupils for these tests, and the t­utor-­students in turn benefit from a salaried experience (Students 2009). At the university level, Eqraa and al‑Kalām are part of the Arab student councils at most universities in Israel. The first Arab Student Committee (later called Arab Student Council) was established at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in 1958. Additional ones were formed at the other Israeli universities in the early 1970s (Mustafa 2011). The first committees of the 1970s protested against discrimination suffered by Palestinians in Israel and against the occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip and provided practical aid to students, such as assistance in finding accommodations and ­part-­time employment (Lustick 1980). The Palestinian student groups represented in the councils are connected to political parties, and this scene has traditionally been dominated by the two major Arab parties: the National Democratic Assembly and the socialist Democratic Front for Peace and Equality. Despite their continued lack of formal recognition by university administrations as the representatives of Palestinian students with Israeli citizenship, the Arab student councils are generally allowed to conduct their activities and occasionally meet with university administrators for practical matters (Erdreich 2006). 144  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Islamist student associations are latecomers compared to the other Arab associations. This can be explained in part by the later establishment of the Movement compared to the two main political parties representing the nationalist and socialist ideologies, as well as by the related lack of an institutional framework to rely on for establishing initial activities (Mustafa 2011). There are no reliable statistics available about the membership numbers of Islamist student associations or about the proportion of female to male members of such associations, but based on my observations and activist sources, there would appear to be parity between the number of male and female activists. What is certain is that the Islamist student associations have continued to attract new members since their inception in the early 2000s. A 2012 brochure from the n ­ ow-­nonexistent student association al‑Risāla, which represented all students associated with the Islamic Movement at the Hebrew University before the split in 1996, illustrates the aims and methodology: basic principles 1. We aim to rise on the individual and social levels through acquiring the values, ideals, and vision of our civilizational heritage (turāthana al‑ḥaḍāriyy) after critically assessing it and evaluating its problematics, without ignoring contemporary humanistic achievements. 2. The Shūra principle and the democratic practice. We see that the Shūra principle is the Islamic humanistic value from which we can launch the construction of a civilizational and political order, embodied in the democratic order which we adopt as a system for daily behaviour, as well as political and organisational practice, in particular in electing our representatives and our institutions in addition to all that relates to decision making. 3. Realistic vision. al‑Risāla Student Movement aims, through pure Islamic values, to provide a scientific and objective reading of student reality in the university and based on that to adopt the programmes and activities suitable to students and the conditions in which they live.

goals on the political level: 1. Student struggle to achieve our just rights as Palestinians, having the issue of the land at its centre, as well as liberation from occupation and its discriminatory policies. 145  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

2. To engage with issues relating to the Arab and Islamic ʾumma and struggling for achieving freedom, justice, independent decision making, and ending the tyranny.

on the cultural level: 1. Encouraging to arrive at educational excellence. 2. Incorporating the Islamic values at all levels because we believe that it is impossible to distinguish the moral and value levels from social and humanistic development. 3. Supporting production of knowledge though spreading the culture of writing and documentation. 4. Safeguarding our identity, embodied in Arabic language and Islamic culture.

on the social level: 1. Crystallising the character and personality of the Arab student through encouraging mature pioneering personalities that will assimilate in society after graduating from university, equipped with knowledge and belief. We will achieve this goal through holding educational programmes tailored to the needs of university students. 2. Forming a nurturing and supporting framework for the Arab student in order to facilitate his acclimatisation in the new social and cultural environment. 3. Strengthening feminist academic activity so that the female students could contribute in the development of a balanced Islamic activity. (al‑Risāla Student Association archive)

Muḥamad Farrān, ­then director of the Northern Branch’s Eqraa, explained that until 2002 the focus of the Islamic Movement was on establishing ­student groups and organizing activities at individual universities (Farrān Interview 2012). In 2002, Eqraa established a student association administration to coordinate student activities on all campuses. That year, the group participated in elections for the Arab Student Council at ­Ben-­Gurion University of the Negev and secured two out of nine seats. Similarly, Ībrahīm Ḥijāzī has been director of the Southern Branch’s al‑Kalām nationwide since 2004 and has overseen the establishment, growth, and institutionalization of a countrywide network of student groups (Ḥijāzī Interview 2012). Their goals are similar to those of al‑Risāla above, with a focus on the identity and w ­ ell-­being of the students as illustrated by this manifesto from al‑Kalām: 146  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

goals of al‑kal Ā m 1. al‑Kalām is an educational association built on Islam in ideology and practice. 2. al‑Kalām stresses its circles of belonging (Islamic, Arab, and Palestinian) and stresses their humanitarian and civilizational dimensions. al‑Kalām is proud in its Palestinian belonging and its cause for freedom and liberation on its holy land. 3. al‑Kalām is committed to practicing the Shura and constructive participation, believing that comprehensive development of individual and society is only achieved by providing an atmosphere of freedom and constructive dialogue, values that derive from Islamic Shura. 4. al‑Kalām aims to utilize social and natural sciences as well as the humanities in order to serve the goals of Islam and to guide daʿwa activities. 5. al‑Kalām aims to strengthen feminist academic activism and provide the proper environment for feminist activism according to Islamic shariʿa. 6. al‑Kalām aims to promote youth activism, because youth are the future of the ʾUmma. 7. al‑Kalām aims to strengthen Palestinian student activism. 8. al‑Kalām aims to strengthen love for the homeland, its holy sites, and its heritage in the hearts and minds of the Palestinians. 9. al‑Kalām aims to increase the academic level of Palestinian students and to encourage them to pursue higher degrees and to guide them to study topics that support the needs of Palestinian society. 10. Improving the quantity and quality of Palestinian students in institutions of higher education. (al‑Kalām Student Association 2012)

The activities by both Eqraa and al‑Kalām focus on providing students with grants; assisting them in their studies through the help of older students and paid tutors; assisting them with Hebrew, especially during the first year when most Arab students are struggling due to their often passive and lower level knowledge of the main academic language; and arranging events of a s­ ocio-­religious nature. They also support students financially by reselling meal tickets for the cafeteria with subsidized prices and providing loans and grants for housing, living costs, books, and study materials. The Islamic Movement is not unique in supporting Palestinian students in Israel. 147  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

Student associations related to the other political parties also provide financial assistance to such students. The popularity of Eqraa and al‑Kalām come from the wide array of assistance these associations provide to Palestinian students combined with the persistence with which these services are offered. Students I interviewed said that they trusted that the services and assistance they receive from Islamic Movement associations will continue past election times and for the ­foreseeable future, and they therefore rely on them (Students 2009). This was contrasted with the other student associations representing the nationalist and communist parties, which were described as only being around during elections and were criticized for not offering consistent support between elections. These impressions are backed up by the insider observations of Mustafa, who from 2011 interviewed students and received the same answers when asking the same questions about why they were attracted to Eqraa (Mustafa 2011, ­157–­58). On July 16, 2008, the Arab student council at the University of Haifa held elections, and I was on campus observing the p ­ re-­election campaign and the atmosphere on election day. At the entrance to the lobby of the library building, I saw young men and ­hijab-­wearing young women carrying green banners with Arabic signage handing out leaflets about Eqraa and al‑Kalām. Farther inside the lobby, students were handing out ­tee-­shirts with Arabic slogans that read: “al‑Kalām Student ­Movement—​­Faith, Knowledge and Work”; “al‑Kalām: Homeland and ­Identity—​­Heavenly Message”; and “Eqraa so that the Path of Change Can C ­ ontinue—​­Faith, Knowledge and Work.” Male and female students manned the many information tables representing all the groups participating, and discussions with onlookers and interested Palestinian students were lively and conducted almost exclusively in Arabic. This is a surprising and unusual event at the ­Hebrew- and ­Jewish-­dominated university campus, and Jewish Israeli students watched in curiosity as they passed an event that they were mostly excluded from as it happened in Arabic. As such, the event and the relaxed and excited behavior of the Palestinian students indicated that they felt comfortable in this space and that they felt enough co‑ownership to host their own events and to take over this public ­space—​­in their language and in their own style. That year, Eqraa won the Arab student council elections at the University of Haifa, Tel Aviv University, and the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Israel’s three largest institutions of higher education. For most, its success came as a shock. The young Islamists themselves were happily surprised by their victory, secular Palestinian student groups that had been dominant until then were disappointed by their loss, and the majority of Israeli Jewish students and university staff were alarmed by the results. 148  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

The motivations for joining and supporting Islamist student activism are diverse. Many students described campus activism as a natural continuation of their engagement with Eqraa or al‑Kalām back in their villages or hometowns. Other student activists described having no prior contact or family connection with either of these organizations, but they came from observant families and found it natural to join an Islamic Movement student association at university. Dawūd ʿAfān said that his decision to join al‑Kalām was based on a combination of factors, including his religious background, his perceived need for Palestinian students at Israeli universities to be politically organized, and the general predicament of Palestinians in Israel and beyond. ʿAfān elaborated with a glimpse into his family history: When I started [studying] I didn’t have any connection to politics, but unfortunately half of my family are in refugee camps in ­Lebanon—​­my uncles and my aunts live in Shatila refugee camp [in Beirut]. One of my uncles and my grandfather were martyred [in the Sabra and Shatila massacre]; now I have two uncles and two aunts left, [and] one uncle is in Germany and one is in Dubai and my aunts are still there [in the camp]. . . . Of course, I had a clear Muslim identity [and] I joined al‑Kalām as a student member. (ʿAfān Interview 2012)

In my survey of ­fifty-­three students in 2012, 81.1 percent responded that their families are religious, 39.6 percent responded that their parents are not active in the Movement, and 52.8 percent responded that their parents are active (Rosmer 2012b). The inspiration to become active as students was often ascribed to the poor conditions of Palestinians in Israel, which inspired a desire to get involved in politics and meet others who felt the same way. Yet other students came from secular backgrounds and approached student activism based on a religious need. One example is Ghada, a young student who had decided to educate herself about Islam. When I interviewed her, she was a law student at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, and she was active in the administration of the Islamic Movement’s student association for women. Ghada’s family was secular, and in the village people predominantly supported the socialist coalition party the Democratic Front for Peace and Equality. She described having a gradual personal transformation from being secular to becoming religious: I found that the Islamic thing is broader, and as a Communist, I had a lot of ideas about Islam that were actually ­anti-­Islam. I started 149  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

to read and interact with people. I understood that my thoughts were prejudiced and not based on sound ideas. (Ghada Interview 2010)

When she came to university, Ghada described it as natural to become active in the student association belonging to the Islamic Movement because of her newfound religious beliefs and lifestyle. In sum, all student activists interviewed, male and female, described their reasons for becoming Islamist activists based on previous relations with the Islamic Movement’s educational and youth organizations in their hometown or village; a conscious continuation or a break with a religious or nonreligious upbringing; and/or political frustration as Palestinian citizens of Israel (Rosmer 2012b; for more details on the student associations of the Islamic Movement, see Rosmer 2015). As such, the activists’ attraction to these associations corresponds with the identity, focus, and methodology of the associations themselves.

educated mothers When the female student interviewees established their own families after graduation, they found few employment opportunities, and they told me Palestinian professional women face challenges on several levels. First, as Palestinian women they face challenges finding a job in Israel due to their marginalized status as both Arab and female. Their career prospects are diminished further if, as is often the case, they move to a village or town where the employment market is small. To understand the predicament facing this population, it is helpful to consider their status as a “trapped minority.” This is defined as a minority that is spread across at least two states and whose members are citizens of a state hegemonized by another group where they have no political influence (Rabinowitz 2001). As such, this minority is marginal within the majority state where they live in inequality and simultaneously marginal within the mother nation from which they are separated. This analysis by Rabinowitz offers a critique of Israel’s ­self-­definition as a “Jewish democracy” for failing to serve as a democracy from the point of view of all the citizens. Whereas all Palestinian citizens of Israel might be said to be “trapped” by virtue of their minority ethic status in a state that privileges the ethnic majority, Palestinian women in Israel are also “trapped” by patriarchal traditions in their community, traditions that are reinforced by state policies. Together, these internal and external pressures hinder women’s political development and empowerment opportunities (Daoud 2009). 150  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Similar to women all over the world, but more so in traditional and highly patriarchal societies, many Palestinian women face challenges posed by the expectations that they will be able to combine their roles as mothers, wives, and professionals. Adding to their predicament is the fact that child care is expensive, if it is available at all, in Palestinian communities in Israel. Consequently, Palestinian women in Israel have one of the lowest rates of ­labor-­force participation in the world (Adalah 2011, 9). The Islamic Movement has sought to address the nursery shortage by providing nurseries at subsidized costs across the country as one of its grassroots initiatives. In addition, the Movement offers employment opportunities, and several interviewees had either worked for or volunteered in one of the Islamic Movement’s organizations. Some interviewees said that Islamist activism was easier to combine with raising small children than many other employment opportunities they considered and was therefore the most attractive solution at the time, adding that they could advance their own career later when family life was less demanding (Female activists Islamic Movement 2013). From the survey conducted for this research with ­fifty-­three students, 60 percent of whom were female, more than 60 percent responded that they believed they would obtain a suitable job after graduation, and 50 percent responded that they hoped their income would cover their family’s needs. Further, 65 percent confirmed that they intended to be active in the Movement after their studies (Rosmer 2012b). Those who responded affirmatively (and who might not be able to find employment) are likely to become active volunteers in the local Islamic Movement associations. However, since these interviews were conducted, the Northern Branch of the Islamic Movement was outlawed in November 2015, as were all of its organizations. As a result, women in paid and volunteer positions in this branch have lost their employment or engagement. In addition, women (and the entire constituency) relying on the organizations of this branch have lost the benefit of the social, religious, educational, and financial support that the Northern Branch formerly provided (Salaime 2016). The ramifications of this are yet to be analyzed, but they are bound to be significant for the communities directly impacted. As for the opportunity for women to become leaders and representatives in the Islamic Movement beyond the female organizations, most male ­leaders I spoke to about this issue answered ambiguously, with responses echoing this quote: “I do not object to women’s participation and representation in politics, but we have to protect women’s honour. The main role for women is in the ­home—​­raising children and managing the household” (Daoud 2009, ­200–­201). 151  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

The promotion (or not) of women to prominent political positions should be viewed in the context of the Palestinian community at large. Hanin Zoabi was the first female representative of any Palestinian political party to be elected to the Knesset in 2009. She represents the secular National Democratic Alliance. Thus, the Islamic Movement does not appear to be far behind its secular Palestinian counterparts when it comes to promoting women to this level. In fact, the Southern Branch has repeatedly nominated women candidates for local and municipal councils, and the Movement “is making efforts and significant progress in promoting women, not through elections, but through appointments,” compared with the two main secular political parties, which “have failed to meet women’s demands for positions of power and to meet the parties’ own agendas for women’s representation” (Daoud 2009, 203). In the election campaign of 2015, a male representative of the Southern Branch responded to a question about the lack of representation from female members of the Movement in the Knesset by stating: “My sister, Mrs. Aida Touma, represents our women!” referring to the Christian representative from the National Democratic Alliance Party on the Joint List who, with Hanin Zoabi, were the two female representatives of the thirteen representatives on this list (Salaime 2016). These numbers stayed the same after the September 2019 elections; however, after the elections in March 2020, there were four women on this list out of fifteen representatives. Among the four is Iman K ­ hatib-­Yasin, who is a representative on the list for the Southern Branch. On the Knesset website it is emphasized that she already has made history t­wice—​­by being the first female representative of the Southern Branch, and by being the first Knesset member to wear a hijab. She is described in these words: She was born in 1964 in Arraba and lives in Yafa an‑Naseriyye. She is a mother of four (three sons and a daughter). She holds a bachelor’s degree in social work from the University of Haifa and a master’s degree in social work and gender and women’s studies from Tel Aviv University. She wrote her thesis on the concept of motherhood among young Arab women. She is a graduate of the Mandel School for Educational Leadership. ­Khatib-­Yasin is a Muslim woman and an advocate for human rights. She is a woman who fights for women and women’s rights and is a ­standard-­bearer of advancing the status of Arab women. She may be new to the Knesset, but she is not new to the public arena, and she already has a proven record in every area of public activity in which she has participated. (Knesset 2020b) 152  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

In an interview shortly after the elections, ­Khatib-­Yasin described herself as a “feminist” and said that as a member of the Knesset her focus would be on improving the situation for w ­ omen—​­especially their employment o­ pportunities—​ ­as well as improving education for children in the ­Palestinian community. When prompted, she placed the responsibility to manage ­violence against Palestinian women in Israel in the hands of the authorities and insisted on connecting her ­gender-­related agenda with her national agenda: The two are inseparable because our exclusion is deeply rooted in our national identity. Arab women suffer double and quadruple discrimination. It is not just being a part of the female sex but being a part of the female sex while belonging to a marginalized minority. We do not share an even playing field with Jewish women. As an Arab woman, I have to put in a lot more work to get to pretty much anywhere, whether it is an academic or professional setting. And among Arab women, those who wear a hijab are the most excluded. The way we look puts us at the fore of racist treatment. (Immergluck 2020)

The journalist asked ­Khatib-­Yasin if it was true that she would be accompanied by her father‑in‑law when traveling for work. She replied: “Yes. But not because I am obligated by my religion to do so. I’ve chosen to watch out for myself, in order to honorably represent the Islamic Movement. Work requires me to spend long hours outside of the home and often until late at night. I want to feel comfortable and have the peace of mind that there is someone helping me with that, someone I can trust” (Immergluck 2020). Reluctance to place a woman in an ­ audience-­ facing position at a ­gender-­mixed meeting is also visible in events arranged by the Islamist student associations. In my interactions with representatives of these associations, they emphasized that the aims of the ­social-­religious meetings and other events organized by student associations are to increase awareness and knowledge about both Islam and their Palestinian Arab history and identity, as well as to help the students practically in their studies and with adapting to life on campus (Rosmer 2015). Both male and female activists explained that they focused on the content rather than on the presentation or positioning of their Islamist message. A good example of a female student Islamist activist who also became a mother is Yāqūt Ktīlāt. She was eight months’ pregnant when I met her at Haifa University during the election campaign for the Arab student council in 2008. She eagerly took me under her wing, introduced me to students in Islamist student associations and beyond, and continued to act as a facilitator 153  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

for my future fieldwork (Ktīlāt Interview 2008). After completing her final exams and giving birth, she planned to take care of the baby before obtaining a job to help support her family. Her husband was then a budding leader in the Southern Branch, where today he holds a leading position, and she felt that she needed to support him by contributing financially to support the family. That the Islamist women themselves support their secondary role in public leadership roles is not a new development; neither is it unique to the Movement. However, these women are not in favor of a religious legal system or traditions that hamper their personal freedoms. In this way the Movement’s female activists are similar to the Islamist feminists in Ḥamās who struggle to improve the legal and social status of women but also accept several provisions that suppress their rights in the realm of personal status law, especially regarding issues such as divorce and inheritance: “Islamic feminism works with the political system of Ḥamās, which secularist women claim restricts personal freedom” (Allabadi 2008, 193). This causes division between secular and religious feminists despite certain shared goals. The shortcomings of the strategy of working from inside the Movement were noted by an observer of Islamist cases in Turkey, who described how, despite these women’s attempts to inspire change, “the messages of these women to expand women’s rights might not, as yet, be enough to precipitate a w ­ oman-­friendly transformation within their conservative community” (Arat 2016, 139). In Ḥamās, women are not only active in elections, campaigns, and rallies; six women were elected to represent this group in the Palestinian Legislative Council in the occupied Palestinian territory in 2006. These women expressed their interest in working in the legislative area in order to make changes for women and to further the stated aims of Ḥamās, including by improving women’s opportunities in education and employment. Some of these women also advocate for stricter restrictions on women as compared to some of their male counterparts. To illustrate, after one female representative in 2006 said that all women need to cover their heads, t­hen prime minster candidate for Ḥamās Ismail Haniyyeh came out to deny such claims, saying it was a choice each woman must make (Allabadi 2008, 193). Similar to Ḥamās, the Islamic Movement in Israel mobilizes and places importance on women’s roles in connection with elections and voting competition. There are a number of reasons for this. First, the Movement is interested in securing women’s votes. Second, it wants women to influence the vote of their husbands. Third, the Movement considers women to be its most effective vote canvassers and therefore encourages them to go from door to door during political campaigns (Bdair Interview 2010). ­Khatib-­Yasin, the new member of the Knesset for the Southern Branch, is a good example. In the Southern Branch, she was responsible for getting 154  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Palestinian women in the Negev/Naqab to vote in the Knesset elections. She used a mixed approach to inspire and encourage women to take part in the democratic process, including holding conferences and going on home visits (Immergluck 2020). Certainly, this can be described as an instrumental use of women, but it also indicates an appreciation of their role and position in the individual home and in society at large. In sum, the picture emerging of these young women and their roles and opportunities within the framework and m ­ ind-­set of the Islamic Movement in Israel is not limited to the traditional roles of mother and wife. The fact that many young women associated with the Movement are studying at Israeli universities with the intent and hope of future employment indicates that they take themselves, their career objectives, and their capabilities seriously, as do others. However, their roles have not yet reached the Movement’s top echelons, and they seem accepting of the practice of gender segregation that enables this limitation. The question of the roles of and opportunities for women is among the main sticking points between the Islamic Movement on the one hand and the secular and Christian Palestinian communities in Israel on the other.

relations with christian palestinian citizens As explained earlier, more than 80 percent of the Palestinian population in Israel is registered as Sunni Muslim, and the rest is divided almost equally between Christians and Druze. As identified by McGahern, most English and Israeli academic research on intercommunal relations between Christian and Muslim Palestinians has two main and related flaws. First, the problems for Christian communities in Israel (and in the occupied Palestinian territory) are attributed mainly to Muslim domination and/or fundamentalism. This is often presented as the primary reason why many ­Christian Palestinians emigrate. Second, these studies generalize about Christians throughout the Middle East as a whole (McGahern 2011, 1). In sum, many of these studies subscribe to, and support, Huntington’s “clash of civilizations” theory that is disconnected from the context and places excessive emphasis on the religious identity of Christians while ignoring the force of their ethnic and national belonging. According to a 2006 survey by the Sabeel Ecumenical Liberation Theology Center, “The main reason underlying Christian emigration from both the occupied Palestinian territory and Israel is not Muslim fundamentalism, but rather, the poor political and economic situation which Palestinians find themselves in under occupation in the West Bank or as a discriminated minority inside Israel” (McGahern 2011, 3). 155  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

In the Israeli context, Christian Palestinians as individuals are treated in a similar discriminatory manner as Muslim Palestinians, but as a religious group they are treated with a certain “positive discrimination” and have a very different formal relationship with the state compared with their Muslim conationalists (McGahern 2011, 8). In sum, the Christian population is considered to be far less of a political and demographic threat to Israel than their Muslim conationalists. This is due to a combination of factors, including the relatively small size of this population. This is further exacerbated by the fragmentation of this community, which in Israel is registered under ten churches, all of which have their own representatives vis‑à‑vis the state and through which personal status issues (marriage, divorce, death) are mediated. By contrast, the relatively homogenous Muslim community is represented by one centralized system vis‑à‑vis the state. The fragmentation of the Christian community is complicated by the facts that most local churches are related to mother churches in other countries and that the clergy are often neither Palestinian nor even Arab but rather foreign nationals, and thus do not represent the national or cultural Arab Palestinian identity as such. These distinctions between the Christian and Muslim Palestinian communities are compounded by prejudiced ideas held by many Jewish Israelis about Christian Arabs, who are perceived to be more Westernized and modern and thus more similar to Jewish Israelis, whereas Muslim Palestinians generally are considered to be backward and Oriental (McGahern 2011). Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur described his understanding of this relationship as follows: There is no doubt that Muslims are the ones most affected by the establishment of the State of ­Israel—​­while also recognizing that our Christian brothers have also been ­affected—​­but the most significant harm has occurred to Muslims by virtue of their majority in the country and on the basis that they are targeted, not only in terms of their human presence, but in terms of their civil, religious and institutional existence. Israel destroyed hundreds of Arab and Muslim villages and the majority of cities and around two thousand mosques and destroyed the rest’s sanctity and turned them into synagogues, restaurants, night clubs, factories, museums, and barns, etc. Waqf of all kinds with many properties were confiscated, Muslim referential institutions were closed [the Supreme Islamic Council], their religious, political, and economic leaders were displaced and eventually cut off entirely from their human, cultural and political profundity. On the other hand, Christians were able to preserve, to some extent, most of their churches, religious sites, and local and

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international church references for ­historic-­structural reasons. (Ṣarṣur 2008, 4)

Tensions between Christians and the Islamic Movement are often exemplified with reference to the so‑called Nazareth 2000 affair. In the m ­ id-­1990s, tensions developed between the Islamic Movement and the municipality in Nazareth, led by the socialist Democratic Front for Peace and Equality party, over use of a 6,­000-­square-­foot plot of land situated in the center of the ­Palestinian-­dominated city often referred to as the “Palestinian capital of Israel” and considered to be a stronghold for Christian Palestinians. Muslim representatives protested against plans to create a plaza on this plot in preparation for the awaited and publicized visit by the Pope in 2000, since they considered the area to be part of the Muslim Waqf. In protest against these plans, the Islamic Movement set up a tent and started conducting prayers at the site and expressed an interest in building a mosque there. Thus, the dispute became framed as one of “church versus mosque.” The third players in this conflict were the various Israeli governments who supported either side at different times. Both the Nazareth 2000 plan and the mosque plan were eventually shelved, and the outcome of the conflict was that “the political integrity and unity of Nazareth was called into question and seriously undermined by the dispute, with the only possible benefactor being the state” (McGahern 2011, ­245–­255): The Israeli state’s attitudes towards the dispute in Nazareth and, by extension, towards both the Palestinian Arab minority as a whole and Palestinian Christians in particular, can be described as being highly opportunistic and indifferent. It consisted of different approaches which were, in turn, highly interventionist (on behalf of the local Islamic movement) and “hands off” (with regards to local Palestinian Christians). At no point were the aims and wishes of local Palestinian Christians, or even the majority of Palestinian Muslims, taken into account by the state, and while the Islamic movement was initially singled out for support by the government, this support was ultimately a poisoned chalice which left both communities (Muslim and Christian) disadvantaged and marginalized. (McGahern 2011, 266)

While illustrating contesting visions of public space utilization and design, this case also illustrates the influence of Israeli Jewish politicians on interactions and relations between communal representatives of Palestinian citizens. 157  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

The Nazareth case has been cited by Israeli officials vis‑à‑vis international and Vatican officials when discussing Palestinian control over Jerusalem and its holy sites as part of a peace settlement, with the suggestion made that this type of intracommunal conflict and hostility would inevitably arise in Jerusalem if the Palestinians were in control of the Old City: “As a result, stoking up the conflict in Nazareth and portraying the conflict in exaggerated terms signifying a clash of civilisations between radical Muslims and a united ­Christian-­Jewish ‘West’ paid important political dividends to the state” (McGahern 2011, 141). ­Cross-­denominational solidarity among Palestinians can be illustrated by the reactions to the attack on the Basilica of the Annunciation in 2006 by a Jewish couple who discharged explosives inside the church. All Palestinian community and religious leaders came together to show solidarity with the affected community, and the Islamic Movement’s Center for Contemporary Studies subsequently published a memo made available on the Eqraa website. The memo condemned not only the attack but also the state’s meager response and made a series of suggestions in its conclusion (Eqraa 2006a): 1. Muslims and Christians must work together and unite because the Jewish extremists are targeting the Arabs, both Christians and Muslims. 2. The Arab leadership in the Palestinian interior [i.e., Israel] agreed that there is a “collective racist mentality” in Israel that is working to increase the hatred among the ­non-­Jewish citizens. 3. Working on persuading the Vatican and the international community to carry out the needed procedures to force Israel to stop the Jewish extremists who enjoy a hidden formal support. 4. Encouraging the Muslim and Christian leaders to launch a joint international media campaign, explaining the injustices that take place against the Islamic and Christian sites in the Holy Land.

In interviews conducted for this research, several Palestinian Christian leaders indicated that they consider the Israeli state to be an opponent aggressor and discussed how they would join forces with Muslim nationalists and both branches of the Islamic Movement, as well as other Palestinian representatives, in confronting the state. This was illustrated by the recollections of Father Shehadeh Shehadeh in chapter 3 regarding the role of the nascent Islamic Movement and subsequent Land Day demonstrations. Secular, nationalist, and Christian leaders were also present in Um al‑Faḥim to celebrate when Ṣalāḥ was released from prison in 2006. Archbishop Attalah Hanna of the Greek Orthodox Church was one of these leaders and described himself 158  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

as a personal friend of Ṣalāḥ; in our interview he spoke about their close relationship as leaders of Palestinians in Israel (Hanna Interview 2010). Hanna rejects the claims of Islamic fundamentalism and the clash of civilizations narrative and described the dialogue and mutual respect between Palestinian Christians and Muslims even when not agreeing on a given issue. He has been an invited guest and speaker at the al‑Āqṣā festival in Um al‑Faḥim since 1998 and is frequently seen next to Ṣalāḥ and other religious leaders during Land Day demonstrations and the protests against ­state-­led demolitions of Palestinian houses and evictions of Palestinian families in Jerusalem. Hanna described Ṣalāḥ as a courageous leader and a defender of Jerusalem. Dr. Kamāl Farah is a retired Anglican priest from Nazareth, and he emphasized that Muslim and Christian Palestinians are brought together by their shared experience as citizens of the Jewish state. He illustrated this by noting the mix of denominations in human rights work and activism for social justice (K. Farah Interview 2010): “Based on our experience in this country we live together beyond dialogue and through real problems.” He conceded that in his opinion Muslim Palestinians are better at surviving the situation and staying (Ṣum ūd, or steadfastness, is a Palestinian nationalist term often used to describe Palestinian perseverance in Palestine despite its hardships), whereas relatively more Christians are leaving, a fact he partially blames on the Christian churches for not creating a strong enough community for the young generation. Michel Sabbah was the first Arab Palestinian archbishop and Latin patriarch of Jerusalem, a position he held from 1987 to 2008. In our interview in 2010, he described the Islamic Movement as a ­political-­religious representation of the Palestinian people’s need for freedom from what he called “Israeli colonization” and as an expression of a genuine will to lead a more faithful life (Sabbah Interview 2010). Having his seat in Jerusalem and working with Christian Palestinians in Gaza, Sabbah has had more interactions with Ḥamās than with the Islamic Movement. Based on his experience, however, Sabbah said that he considers the Islamic Movement to be “more political” compared with Ḥamās, which he described as more “socially religious”; he expressed a preference for the former, which in his view is less preoccupied with social conventions, such as imposing dress codes and other social customs.

issues of contention: women and methodology One of the controversial issues that causes tension between the Islamists and secular or Christian Palestinians in Israel is the status of women and related social issues. For my first interviews with leaders and supporters 159  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

of the Movement, my translator was a young Christian Palestinian woman with Israeli citizenship who has a master’s degree from the London School of Economics and who led a secular independent lifestyle. Her reactions and reservations vis‑à‑vis Islamists were indicators of the gaps between Christian and secular or n ­ on-­Islamist Muslim Palestinians and the Movement. As my translator ­explained—​­and also voiced with the Islamist ­interviewees—​­her fear is that their traditional lifestyle will establish new and unwanted limitations on Palestinian women, especially if the Movement’s power increases, and that secular Palestinians and Christians will become a political minority (Christians are, of course, already a numerical minority). When asked about the lack of female representatives in the Movement’s upper echelons, Manṣūr ʿAbās from the Southern Branch referred to Aida Touma Sulieman as the “sister” who represents women on the Joint List. Touma Sulieman is a feminist activist and politician. She has climbed the list of representatives in the socialist Democratic Front for Peace and Equality Communist Party since the 2000s and is today a member of the Knesset for the Joint List; she was also the first woman to be a member of the High Follow‑Up Committee for Arab Citizens of Israel. She is Christian by denomination, though does not describe herself in religious terms. She founded Women Against Violence (WAV) in the early 1990s, an organization working to protest against and improve the situation of Palestinian women who suffer from abuse. When Touma Sulieman was interviewed in 2010 about her thoughts on and experiences with the Islamic Movement, she began by speaking about the Coalition for Equality in Personal Status Law (the “Coalition”), composed of WAV and other women’s organizations, which wanted to change the religious nature of decision making in the Family Courts Law to secure Muslim women’s rights to maintenance and child custody ( Joseph 2005, 2:120). By replacing the religious and only male Muslim judges with secular and civil law judges, the activists assumed Muslim women would have a fairer chance at being granted their rights to divorce and the financial support owed to them in case of a divorce. This change had been put in place for Jewish courts only and the engaged organizations wanted the same change for their communities (Muslim and Christian), as they believed this would positively impact the situation of Palestinian Muslim women especially (Touma Sulieman Interview 2010). Touma Sulieman told me that both branches of the Islamic Movement were strongly against this change; they challenged the Coalition in court and issued a fatwa against the proposal, arguing that it would threaten the integrity of the Muslim family and the Palestinian community (Touma Sulieman Interview 2010). Sulieman described being worried by threats of 160  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

excommunication from Palestinian society in Israel and how she was surprised at the strong opposition and reaction by both Islamists and secular nationalists. Her opponents all agreed that this court case could destroy the only autonomous court for Palestinians in the Jewish state, and thus this issue took on a symbolism beyond the issue of gender equality. Touma Sulieman argued that the religious courts were never autonomous but were controlled by the state like any other part of Palestinian society in Israel. Secular opponents also argued that the change would alienate them even further from religious and Muslim voters. Nevertheless, in 2001 the Coalition won the case, and civil courts and judges were made available to Muslims seeking family dispute resolution in Israel. According to Touma Sulieman, Sannad, the women’s organization of the Northern Branch, was established in reaction to this legal case in an attempt to show that not all Palestinian women supported the proposed change in family law or felt represented by the Coalition. Female Islamist activists attended court hearings next to Touma Sulieman and her secular colleagues and argued against them. She described this as the awakening of the women in the Islamic Movement and the beginning of their women’s organizations, in an ironic way. “We awoke the monster,” Touma Sulieman said to me while smiling. According to her, this was the catalyst that made Islamist and some other Muslim women become more politically active and aware. However, Touma Sulieman expressed reservations about the activism of women within the Islamic Movement, on two levels. First, she noted that, while this new space for activism and most of the activities conducted were a positive development, this “playground” for women is used mainly to recruit other women and supporters and that the women do not have a lot of power or autonomy inside the larger Movement. Second, she criticized limitations enforced within the activism conducted, such as lack of sexual education, reluctance to send battered women to shelters, and tacit acceptance of polygamy. Despite these shortcomings, Touma Sulieman expressed a positive attitude about the future of women activists and the increasing awareness among this group. When asked about differences between the Southern and Northern Branches, Touma Sulieman explained these as religiously ideological, not only political, in relation to representation in the Knesset, and she described the Northern Branch as generally more fundamentalist and literalist. In her experience, the Southern Branch has developed its thinking significantly in terms of gender issues over the decades. To illustrate this development of the Southern Branch, she described how in the 1990s she was verbally attacked by their leader in Akka/Akko for participating in a conference organized by ­Āṣwāt—​­al‑Markiz an‑Nasawī al‑Falasṭīnī lilḥurriyyat al‑Jinsiyya 161  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

­wal-­Jandariyya (Palestinian Feminist Center for Gender and Sexual Freedoms). She was accused of being a lesbian, and the Movement tried to shame her publicly to dissuade her from participating. Then, in 2006, Touma Sulieman and others approached both branches to join a campaign for equal rights promoted by Women Against Violence. She described how the Northern Branch leaders met with them and heard their arguments but were clear in their opposition to this activism. The Southern Branch leaders, by contrast, were forthcoming but never fully supportive. Later the leader of the Southern Branch, Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur, signed on to the campaign, albeit he told her they supported 95 percent of the declaration. Though dismayed at this lacking 5 percent, Touma Sulieman sees this as the beginning of a collaborative relationship of “how to practice disagreement” (Touma Sulieman Interview 2010). She describes this development as a turning point in her relationship with the Southern Branch. In my interviews with other Palestinian politicians, they focused on women and family issues as their main sticking points with the Movement, in addition to the overall controversy around the mixing of religion and politics. Ḥannā Swaid, member of the Knesset for the Democratic Front for Peace and Equality, emphasized that as a Christian secular politician he does not approve of the mixing of religious and political agendas (Swaid Interview 2010). He observed that the Muslim community had become more religious since the 1980s, as evidenced by the increasing adoption of the hijab among Muslim women, greater numbers of people fasting during Ramadan, greater attendance of Friday prayers, and a general increase in religious language in the social discourse. However, he also noted that, simultaneously, more women study in higher education institutions, drive cars, and participate in the workforce. All of the ­non-­Islamist interviewees who were members of the Knesset specified that the ideological debates between them and the Islamists are secondary to their conflict with the Zionist state and its institutions and that they are all facing and trying to deal with the same predicament as ­Palestinians in Israel. Jamal Zahalka, member of the Knesset for Balad/ al‑Tajamuʿ, described how discussion between his secular nationalist party and the Islamic Movement mainly takes place in the High Follow‑Up Committee and focuses on “social issues” (Zahalka Interview 2010). To exemplify, he mentioned three debated issues: The Islamic Movement leaders wanted seventeen to be the age of marriage, whereas the secular parties do not support marriage before the age of eighteen; according to Zahalka, the Movement as such does not support polygamy, but its leaders do not oppose it, something the secular parties do; and whereas the secular parties have no problems with interreligious marriages, the Islamic Movement is 162  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

against this. Zahalka emphasized that he doesn’t like speaking about his ­colleagues behind their backs and that between them relations are respectful and appreciative. This view was also expressed by Jafar Farah, director of Mossawa (the Advocacy Center for Arab Citizens in Israel), who, similar to other critical secular voices, emphasized his respect and appreciation for all the community work the Islamic Movement does for Palestinians in Israel across denominations. Mossawa ultimately seeks the same results as the Islamic Movement in terms of obtaining material and other support for Palestinian citizens, but their methods are different ( J. Farah Interview 2010). Whereas Mossawa seeks to make the state take full responsibility for its n ­ on-­Jewish citizens, the Islamic Movement uses its own resources to assist people and encourage ­self-­reliance. Farah admits that, in terms of actual solutions to problems and situations, the Islamic Movement is more effective, and he admires its resourcefulness and willingness to help. However, he is critical of the dependency on the Movement that this approach fosters and explains that he envisions creating fishermen and -­women instead of distributing fish to ­people—​­he believes in empowerment and ­self-­help and is therefore critical of the ­long-­term effects of the methodology of the Islamists. This and divergent views on gender and social relations, as well as LGBTQ+ groups, are the primary challenges he identified. Farah also questioned how the latter group can fit into a society where women are still fighting for their voice to be heard. Ali Haidar, former codirector of Sikkuy (the Association for the Advancement for Civic Equality in Israel), described to me how Sikkuy works successfully with the Movement (Haidar Interview 2010). He expressed being particularly impressed by the professionalism of the Movement, including its budgets, administration, and improvement of municipal services. The Islamic Movement’s local leadership is generally credited for having good cooperative relations with the state, and its working relationship with the Israeli government has been described as “excellent” (A. R. Peled 2001, 133). Sikkuy has also found representatives of the Islamic Movement willing and able to cooperate with all other relevant Palestinian and Jewish representative bodies. This includes participation in the Forum for Jewish and Arab Mayors, established in 2000 to provide an arena to discuss shared concerns, as well as concerns that related only to one of the two communities, and to learn more about each other’s situations. The late Tikva Levi and Yehouda Amichai, from the educational rights organization HILA (the Israel Committee for Equality in Education), described their experiences of cooperation with Islamic M ­ ovement–­led local authorities as good (Levi Interview 2006; Amichai Interview 2008). HILA 163  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

supports marginalized groups in Israeli society, mainly Palestinian citizens, Mizrahi, and Ethiopian Jews, by empowering them with information about their rights and the educational system. Qualified instructors are sent to local schools to advise the parents how to negotiate for the rights of their children vis‑à‑vis school administrations and/or the ministry of education. Many of the localities where they work are run by the Islamic Movement branches or are part of the local coalition. However, not everyone echoes Sikkuy’s and HILA’s experiences. Himmat Zu’bi, researcher at Mada al‑Carmel, was the coordinator for the Haifa Declaration, one of four extraordinary “Future Vision” documents published by Palestinians in Israel between 2006 and 2007 through different organizations representing viewpoints, rights, and claims from this minority. These documents were described as a “watershed in the history of J­ ewish-­Arab relations [with] Israel” (Rekhess in Peleg and Waxman 2011, 69). For the first time, ­Palestinian-­led NGOs in Israel collectively not only acted to articulate opposition to the treatment of the Palestinian minority in Israel by the state but also provided concrete visons for the future of the state that included the history, positions, and contributions of the Palestinian minority. In addition to the Haifa Declaration, the Future Vision Document was published by the High Follow‑Up Committee and the National Committee for the Heads of Arab Local Authorities in Israel; the Democratic Constitution was published by Adalah; and An Equal Constitution for All: On the Constitution and the Collective Rights of Arab Citizens in Israel was published by Mossawa. They can be seen as a testimony to the ­NGO-­ization of Palestinian society in Israel, a process that parallels that in the occupied Palestinian territory since the Oslo Accords. In the context of the debate over Israel’s democracy, these documents align with critical Jewish scholars who argue that Israel’s system of government is at best a “flawed” democracy and at worst does not qualify as a democracy due to its treatment of its n ­ on-­Jewish citizens (Peleg and Waxman 2011; Y. Peled and Navot 2005; Yiftachel 2000). All these documents reject the “Jewish and democratic” ideal advanced by Israel and argue for its replacement with a democratic system of government that provides both individual liberal rights and communal group rights. Concrete suggestions as to what Israel can and should become in order to be a fair and inclusive state are set out in the Haifa Declaration, which proposes a “bi‑national state,” in the Future Vision, which proposes a “consensual democracy,” and in the Democratic Constitution, which proposes a “democratic, bilingual, multicultural state” (Peleg and Waxman 2011, 73). The Haifa Declaration emphasizes the Palestinian identity of Israel’s Arab minority, challenges the Zionist historical narrative, and places blame for the plight of Palestinian refugees created in 1948 squarely in the hands of the Zionist movement and 164  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

the new state. It calls for recognition of the injustices done and for affirmative action to remedy the inequality experienced by Palestinian citizens (Peleg and Waxman 2011, ­69–­75). Zu’bi described being disappointed that the Islamic Movement chose not to take up the invitation to ­co-­sign the Haifa Declaration and assumed this had to do with the secular nature of its vision and in particular its emphasis on women’s and children’s rights (Zu’bi Interview 2010). The Northern Branch also rejected the published version of the Future Vision Document, reasoning in an open letter that this was due to the publication of the document before it had been endorsed by the High Follow‑Up Committee and that the document therefore represents the view of its authors, but not of the Committee (Rekhess 2007, 14). The inability of the Islamic Movement to co‑sign these declarations alongside its secular and nationalist fellow Palestinian citizens of Israel was replicated in the context of student politics a few years later. As described above, secular Palestinian students were surprised by the success of the Islamic Movement’s Eqraa student association in the elections of the Arab student council in 2008. Following these elections, cooperation across party lines has proved difficult for the Arab student councils. In the 2009 elections at the University of H ­ aifa—​­although the votes were shared equally between Eqraa and the student associations of the National Democratic Assembly and the Democratic Front for Peace and E ­ quality—​­the three were unable to form a coalition (Farrān Interview 2012; M. Khaṭīb Interview 2010). The three groups tried to come to an agreement and to write a constitution for the council with the assistance of Amir Makhoul, the leader of Ittijāh, the Union of Arab C ­ ommunity-­Based Associations, but the talks fell through after Makhoul was imprisoned in May 2010 on charges of espionage (which Makhoul denies). This failure, and the consequent assumption that the council was not doing its job, resulted in some students losing interest in voting or otherwise engaging in council politics (Two male students Interview 2009). According to my sources in Eqraa and al‑Kalām, the latest elections to the council were those of the University of Haifa in the 2011 academic year, when Eqraa secured a majority of seats. Farrān, the national manager of Eqraa, described the disagreements between the secular and Islamist associations as a “crisis of confidence,” saying that, despite the many and significant common denominators between them, the student representatives focused on their differences, which led to disputes. Again, tensions are described as being the greatest when related to gender and social matters. Student activists described problems with the social and practical aspects of arranging events. For example, the secular student groups want joint events not to be segregated by gender and to feature 165  |  Activists and Relations with Other Palestinian Citizens

female speakers, both of which pose a challenge to their Islamist counterparts. Some of the Islamist activists interviewed complained about what they viewed as stubbornness on the issue of g­ ender-­mixing, arguing that their secular peers let gender issues obscure the larger political issues on which all agree, thus making actual political cooperation difficult. Seen from an observer’s point of view, this argument is obviously reversible.

conclusion The supporters of the Islamic Movement’s two branches are drawn to it by a mixture of exposure to and the attraction of being a part of the daʿwa and of the ­socio-­cultural and political activism the Movement offers. Thus, using the ­idea-­based analysis of Wickham and the institutional focus of Clark, they can be described as reacting positively to a combination of the factors that attracted Muslim Egyptians to the Muslim Brotherhood. However, the difference between these cases is the sociopolitical context that in this case has influenced the development of the Movement and the development of the needs and responses of its followers, which are adjusted to respond to their predicament as ­non-­Jewish Palestinian citizens of Israel. The institutions the Movement has built at the grassroots level across the country, as exemplified by the pupil and student associations of both branches, serve to assist Palestinian youth and society, and to attract new supporters to the Movement. However, not all secular Palestinians are excited about the gender constraints and social conservativism that the Movement encourages. While all Palestinian critics who were interviewed emphasized their common predicament and struggle vis‑à‑vis the state and Israeli Jewish society, as well as their appreciation for the social and cultural assistance provided by the Movement to the Palestinian community, most remained critical of the Movement’s views and practices with regard to women representatives and gender equality. Further, at various ­levels—​­be it in the High Follow‑Up Committee or within student ­politics—​­cooperation between the Movement and their ­non-­Islamist Palestinian counterparts is complicated across the Christian/secular and religious/Islamist divide. That said, the Southern Branch was able to set aside its differences with other ­Palestinian-­led political parties in Israel to form the Joint List, an alliance that became the third largest faction to win representation in the Knesset. The Southern Branch’s involvement in this parliamentary alliance will be discussed in chapter 6.

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c h a pter si x

New Watersheds t h e j oi nt l i st and a b a n

T

his chapter addresses developments between 2015 and 2020 and their impact on and consequences for the two branches of the Islamic Movement in Israel. In 2015, two significant developments occurred: The Southern Branch stood for Knesset elections with other predominantly Arab parties as part of the Joint List, and the Northern Branch was outlawed. Both of these events were products of actions initiated by the State of Israel, and both posed significant challenges to the Islamic Movement, effectively dashing any hope of reconciliation between the two branches. These developments also underscore the divergent trends of the two branches: deepening integration of the Southern Branch into Israel’s political system, and further isolation of the Northern Branch from both local and national political participation. This presents supporters of the wider Islamic Movement with a stark choice: integration or criminalization.

integration: the joint list The main reason why Palestinian political parties decided to join ranks across national, secular, socialist, and Islamist ideologies in 2015 was the legislation passed in 2014 to raise the threshold required for parties to gain representation in the Knesset following elections from 2 percent of the votes to 3.25 percent of the votes (Lis 2014). This new threshold made it difficult for smaller parties such as those representing the Palestinian minority to secure representation in the parliament through elections. Indeed, this appears to have been the driving force behind the initiative, which was championed by the increasingly and bluntly racist foreign minister at the time, Avigdor Lieberman, a man who famously advocated beheading Arab citizens 167

who were not loyal to the state: “Whoever is not with us we should take an axe and lower his head” (NBC News 2015). When the legislation was passed to amend the electoral threshold, all three Arab Palestinian parties protested in the Knesset (Lis 2014). However, the legislation has had an unintended consequence: instead of serving to obliterate representation of the Palestinians in the Knesset, it caused their parties to finally unite across ideological divides and become a powerful force in the Knesset. According to academic observer Nohad Ali, the Knesset threshold was not the only reason for the establishment of the Joint List and in fact was only the catalyst. He argues that the discussion about a joint list was triggered in 2013 and mentions Knesset members Muhammed Barakeh (Democratic Front for Peace and Equality), Jamal Zahalka (National Democratic Assembly), and Shaykh Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur (Southern Branch) as those who “took the first steps to form a joint list immediately after the 19th Knesset elections” (Ali 2015a). So far as the Southern Branch is concerned, ­electoral collaboration with other parties was not in fact novel. The Southern Branch had always stood for Knesset elections on a joint list, known as the United Arab List, together with other parties representing Arab Palestinian citizens of Israel. As discussed in the chapter 2, in the 1996 and 1999 elections the partner on this list was the Arab Democratic Party; then, prior to the 2003 elections, this alliance dissolved, and the Southern Branch ran alone as the United Arab List; and in the 2006, 2009, and 2013 elections, the Southern Branch ran on this list together with the Arab Nationalist Party in Israel. In 2008, Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur wrote this proposal about the political objectives that Palestinian citizens should seek in Israel: The “Civil Resistance Project” calls for a new unification among the Arabs to protect, develop and emphasize “resistance,” not in its military sense, but in all its other meanings, especially since the term “resistance” seemed to represent, with merit, the method of the oppressed in the land on the one hand, and a model for rejecting domination, oppression, and persecution on the other. This is the proposal we present and work to implement in a very complex environment. (Ṣarṣur 2008, 9)

The Joint List is an excellent example of the “emergence of a simple ideological rapprochement among the various political groups in opposition” (Browers 2009, 7). The Southern Branch, which forms part of the United Arab List, can be described as “integrationist” based on its willingness to join this ­cross-­ideological alliance, which is focused on presenting a united front 168  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

against a common political opponent rather than on a shared political ideology or vision. This political behavior can be described using terminology from the Islamic tradition, using the Qur’anic concept of Ūmma Wasaṭiyya, translated as a “middle nation,” “a justly balanced” or “moderate” community that leads to a “wasatiyya thinking that demonstrates openness, inclusiveness, and tolerance” (Browers 2009, 49). This pragmatic style is often adopted by marginal groups based on political goals and not on their basic political or social concepts (Browers 2009, 49). Their pragmatism is enabled by a conceptual understanding of the ʾumma (the Muslim community) as including not only their religious community of Muslims but also other groups. In the contextualized analysis of the Islamic Movement, the boundaries of its community are expanded to include all Arab Palestinians in Israel and juxtaposed against Zionist Israelis. In the case of the Joint List, one can argue that the perception of the ʾumma even extends to allied ­non-­Zionist Jewish Israelis in general and those of the Democratic Front for Peace and Equality in particular. Based on this vision, dialogue and cooperation across ideological boundaries are possible and indeed sought. An example of this thinking was articulated by the imam and former Islamic Movement leader of the Southern Branch, Adnan Amr Abu Firas. In an interview in September 2016, Abu Firas said: “We cannot follow the religion exactly and the Islamic Movement tries to navigate a ­midway—​­wasat” (Ben Solomon 2017, 4). Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur also expressed his view of ­cross-­denominational political action: “In the Islamic Movement, we seek, through our keenness on joint Arab action inside Israel, to extend bridges of cooperation with all those ­active in the field in order to carry the public concern and deal with the ­challenges facing us as an Arab minority locally, regionally and globally” (Ṣarṣur 2008, 4). In communication with the author in February 2021, he explained: Societies do not live in a vacuum, and the relationship between community groups is based mostly on the exchange of interests, and all of this results in alignment within these societies, which may take a political characteristic, and may transcend it to an ideological and belonging link. (Ṣarṣur Email 2021)

As such, since it began participating in national elections, the Southern Branch was in alignment with the Palestinian constituency in Israel, which according to surveys had long wished that its political representatives would unify (Khoury 2014a). A survey conducted for Haifa University in 2012 found that “a majority of 76 percent of the Arab public were in favor of the 169  |  New Watersheds

[Arab] parties’ unification” (Ali 2015b). According to another survey on the same topic also conducted in December 2014 by Mada al‑Carmel, an Arab research center, 88 percent of the Palestinian community in Israel supported the formation of the Joint List (Ali 2015b). The Joint List was formed from four electoral parties that primarily represent Palestinian citizens of Israel: the socialist Democratic Front for Peace and Equality (which also appeals to Jewish voters and fields Jewish representatives); the secular Arab National Democratic Assembly; the United Arab List (which includes representatives from the Southern Branch); and the national secular Arab Movement for Renewal. These parties already shared some positions vis‑à‑vis the Jewish state as representatives of the Palestinian national (and Muslim and Christian religious) minority. Each of the parties promotes equal and fair treatment of Arab (and ­non-­Jewish) citizens by the state and campaigns against Israel’s ongoing military occupation of ­Palestinian territory in Gaza and the West Bank (including East Jerusalem). Their predicaments as Palestinian parties in the Knesset are manifold: Despite their electoral divisions over the years, with the exception of the period between 2015 and 2018, Arab parties have fought for the same causes and struggled against the same issues that have beset Arab citizens for decades. These include unfair budget allocations (a problem affecting several sectors of Israeli society but most prominently its Arab minority), and the exclusion of Arabs from various areas of public life (including representation in government in keeping with their numbers). These parties must also contend with the fact that the members of the Knesset who belong to them are not considered natural or legitimate partners in governing coalitions. (Sawaed 2019)

In 2015, the Joint List won thirteen (of 120) representative seats and became the ­third-­largest group in the K ­ nesset—​­a significant result, especially for a list competing in its first election. This electoral success was due in part to an increase in Palestinian voter turnout of at least 10 percent from previous elections, when approximately 55 percent of the Arab minority in Israel had exercised the right to vote (Khoury 2014a). However, the 2015 elections were also noteworthy because Prime Minister Benyamin Netanyahu infamously urged his supporters to vote by warning in a 28‑second video posted on his Facebook page on the eve of the elections that “Arab voters are heading to the polling stations in droves.” In the same video, the prime minister also reportedly said that “­left-­wing 170  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

NGOs are bringing them in buses” (Zonszein 2015). ʾAḥmad Ṭībī of the National Democratic Alliance commented that Netanyahu “is inciting against Arab voters who are taking advantage of their natural and democratic right as citizens,” arguing that Netanyahu was afraid (Tahroor 2015). Netanyahu later apologized to Palestinian leaders in Israel, but he continued to use this incendiary style of communication and ethnic chauvinist language in the 2019 campaigns (discussed below). The Southern Branch’s decision to become more involved in party politics has caused some negative reactions among the branch’s traditional ­Muslim voters. Its leaders have been accused of allowing power ambitions, corruption, and nepotism to detract attention from their Islamic values and daʿwa activism (Ben Solomon 2017). Some sources have called the Southern Branch a “state within the state” and accused its leaders of funneling municipal money to their own businesses with ties to the Southern Branch and of giving certain businesses preferential treatment when signing government contracts. One concrete example that has been cited by critics originates in Kafr Qasim, headquarters of the Southern Branch. The 2016 commemoration of the 1956 massacre in Kafr Qasim was described as being co‑opted by the Southern Branch, and accusations were levied that Southern Branch leaders were pocketing municipal funding for this event: “There are suspicions that the Islamic Movement took the money allocated for the event and then cheaply held it so that a profit could be made. . . . It is like if Bibi [Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu] told the Likud party to manage the state’s budget for Independence Day” (Ben Solomon 2017, 6). Critics have also accused the Southern Branch of using religion to promote political goals, suggesting that leaders use religious language to justify certain policy positions in order to subdue opponents and critics who do not wish to be seen as defying Islam. In response to these claims and confirming the centrist perspective discussed above, Kāmil Rayān, the first mayor of Kafr Barā from the Islamic Movement (see chapter 1), clarified that politics demands compromise but that the Southern Branch’s “red lines” are intact: “Some people fight the state and some assimilate to i­t—​­the Islamic Movement is in the middle. There is a need to remember our history and values” (Ben Solomon 2017, 6). In sum, by participating in the Joint List, the Southern Branch has shown that it is willing to compromise in order to participate in the political system available to Palestinians in Israel at a statewide level. By opting to join other predominantly Arab parties to form the Join List, this branch contributed to what one observer described as the “most important political event in the Arab public since 1977” (Ali 2014). 171  |  New Watersheds

criminalization: the outlawing of the northern branch On November 17, 2015, the ­Netanyahu-­led government outlawed the extraparliamentary Northern Branch. Netanyahu has argued that the Northern Branch should be treated like the extremist Jewish Kach movement, which was declared a terrorist organization in 1994 (Ravid 2014). The decision to ban the Northern Branch is the outcome of a formal process that began in 2014, when Netanyahu formed a ministerial team to review the branch’s activities. ­Then Transportation Minister Yisrael Katz, a member of Netanyahu’s Likud Party, argued that “[Ḥamās leader] Ismail Haniyeh is in a bunker, and [the leader of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt Mohamed] Morsi is in jail, and only Ṣalāḥ is still running free in Galilee campaigning for Ḥamās against Israel. . . . As I have proposed on several previous occasions, we must outlaw the Islamic Movement” (Lawent and Dvorin, 2014). In his televised speech announcing the ban, Netanyahu declared: “Democracy must defend itself, it must defend itself from those who undermine it. The Islamic Movement’s Northern Branch undermines the state. The Movement incites violence against innocent civilians and has close ties with the Ḥamās terrorist organization. They undermine the state with the aim of replacing it with an Islamic caliphate” (Kershner 2015). Adalah, the Legal Center for Arab Minority Rights in Israel, provided this report on the event: This morning, 17 November 2015, the Israeli government declared the Islamic Movement in Israel an unlawful association. Defense Minister Moshe Ya’alon signed the order pursuant to his authority under the Defense (Emergency) Regulations dating from the British Mandate. Based on the order, any organization or individual affiliated to the movement, and any person who provides it with a service or works for it, will be considered to have committed a criminal offense and will be liable to imprisonment. In addition, the declaration allows for the confiscation of all property belonging to the movement. Following the decision, the Israeli authorities confiscated property belonging to the offices of 17 organizations operating on behalf of the Islamic Movement’s northern branch, including organizations located in Rahat, Jaffa, Nazareth and Umm al‑Fahem. (Adalah 2015)

Zaky ʾIghbāriyya, a spokesman for the Northern Branch, is reported to have described the government’s characterization of the organization as “political 172  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

incitement”: “They say today that I suddenly became a criminal. That means they just criminalized any support for the defense of al‑Aqsa, or for the Palestinian people, or for equal rights for Palestinian citizens in Israel, or for welfare provision for students and the handicapped?” (Cook 2016). According to Muʿādh Khaṭīb, a political activist in the Northern Branch and a former volunteer in its educational association Eqraa, the decision to outlaw the Northern Branch came as a shock to its leaders and supporters: “We expected targeting but not a ban of the whole movement. They have closed certain institutions and targeted our leaders many times, but this was much more s­ erious—​­except for a very few organizations, such as the women’s organization, Sannad, they closed everything” (M. Khaṭīb Interview 2021). According to a legal adviser for the Northern Branch, Ḥasan Ṭabāja, they did know that something was about to happen in 2014, and there had been discussions in the branch’s Management Council about how to react in the months prior to the ban. The debate centered on al‑Āqṣā, and they were discussing if they were prepared to back down on their presence there and focus on this religious site, which they perceived to be of central importance to the authorities. After what Ṭabāja described as long and difficult discussions, it was decided by consensus that the branch would not “retreat from al‑Āqṣā” (i.e., stop its activities in and around the mosque) despite knowing that this meant a potential closure of some or all of their organizations that provide religious and social services across the country. This was done with a heavy heart, according to Ṭabāja: “They [the authorities] can ban the Islamic Movement but they cannot ban Islam.” Ṭabāja elaborated and explained that since the ban came into effect individual Muslims have continued to pray at al‑Āqṣā and keep up activities there, and the mosque is “taken care of.” But they are concerned for its preservation and future. From the point of view many Palestinian citizens of ­Israel—​­including many who are not supporters of the Islamic Movement or the Northern ­Branch—​­the ban is an attack on their rights to representation and association, as well as on their freedom of speech. Notably, Palestinian leaders from across the spectrum of this national minority within ­Israel—​­whether nationalist, secular, Islamist, or C ­ hristian—​­protested and condemned the ban, deriding it as yet another example of Israel’s “divide and rule” approach to its Palestinian citizens (Keinon, Ben Solomon, and Harlov 2015; Ben Solomon 2015c). The High Follow‑Up Committee for Arab Citizens of Israel organized a general strike on November 17 that year in response to the decision, calling for all schools and shops in the Palestinian community to close. The leader of the Joint List, ʾAyman ʿŪda, made this comment: “This is indisputably a case of political, ­anti-­democratic persecution that is part of the de‑legitimization campaign waged by Netanyahu’s government against 173  |  New Watersheds

the country’s Arab citizens” (Cook 2016). Adalah published this statement in reaction to the decision: The outlawing of the Islamic Movement is an aggressive, draconian measure. The Israeli government is using the Emergency Regulations, which date back to the British Mandate, to suppress a political movement that represents a large part of the Palestinian public in Israel. The Islamic Movement is part of the national representative bodies and elected local bodies of the Palestinian citizens of Israel, and all its political activities are in accordance with the law. The order issued by the defense minister, without a hearing or trial, is a violation and crackdown on the Islamic Movement’s rights to freedom of association and political expression, and harms the ­Palestinian-­Arab minority in Israel as a whole. (Adalah 2015)

Back in 2010, the journalist Qasim Khaṭīb explained that, to the Israeli political mainstream (meaning Labor and Likud and their offshoots), the Southern Branch represents a challenge similar to the Jewish Sepharic/Mizrahi political party and ­socio-­religious movement Shas, whereas the Northern Branch represents an independence challenge that the state does not wish to hear (Khaṭīb Interview 2010). As I have written about previously (Rosmer 2004), Shas challenges the content and systems of the state from the inside but accepts, and also lately promotes, the Zionist ideology underpinning the state. In doing so, Shas avoids crossing the brightest red line in Israeli politics. To this same point, Ghanem and Mustafa argued that the Israeli state does not actually fear the Northern Branch due to security issues as it claims but rather “fears that the e­ xtra-­parliamentary movement is gradually ­coalescing into a powerful mass social movement with broad popular support and great ability to mobilise the public” (As’ad Ghanem and Mustafa 2014, 343). The fear is that such a movement could ultimately challenge the Zionist nature of the state. It is therefore understood by Zionist politicians as an existential threat. The outlawing of the Northern Branch was also initially criticized by members of the Israeli security services (Shin Bet), who feared that it would make it more difficult to monitor the branch, whose activities might go underground; it might also lead to unrest among the larger Arab community in Israel (Rubin 2015). The police, however, were in favor of the ban and did not think there would be unrest, arguing that the authorities should “take the fullest extent of action against it [the Northern Branch], whereas the Shin Bet said that action against the northern branch and its leaders should be on the basis of evidence” (Ravid 2015). 174  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

The actual decision taken was to use a maximum degree “to define the whole character of the activities as prohibited so that even if they change their name, it will still be possible to relate to what they are doing as illegal” (Ravid 2015). At the time of the decision to outlaw the Northern Branch there was a focus on the branch’s activities in Jerusalem, related to the recent spike in violence there, and on links with Ḥamās. A particular incident mentioned, as part of this line of thought, involved a Palestinian youth who threw stones at a car, leading to the death of the Jewish driver. “Direct evidence emerged from that interrogation of a connection between the northern branch and decisions to commit terror attacks, the senior official said. Levlovich’s [the Jewish driver] killer said in the interrogation that he had returned from an event held by the northern branch and after he heard the speeches, he was persuaded that Al‑Aqsa Mosque was in danger and therefore he should go out and throw stones” (Ravid 2014). Other observers, such as the academic Lawrence Rubin and lawyer Hassan Jabareen, general director of Adalah, argue that the rationale behind the decision to outlaw the branch was not security but politics. Those advancing their view note that no one was charged with any criminal offense in relation to the ban and that no criminal investigation was conducted by the authorities before or after the ban. Therefore, it is assumed that the motivation was political and ideological. According to Suhad, the outlawing must be understood within the general ­legal-­political system which Israel uses as an attempt to incriminate the political activities and work within the Palestinian society in Israel. . . . Thereby [with the application of the ban on the Northern Branch] the Israeli institution takes one further step to expand its oppressive and dominant space towards the Palestinian political action inside the green line. (Bishara 2016)

However, many Jewish Israelis (including ­Jewish-­dominated political parties) supported the decision to outlaw the Northern Branch, such as “the main ­center-­left opposition party, the Zionist Union. Its leader, Isaac Herzog, criticized Netanyahu for not moving sooner against the Islamic Movement, adding that it was ‘the first step in defending democracy in Israel’ ” (Cook 2016). Surveys conducted in 2003 and in 2004 showed that 74.9 percent of Jewish Israeli citizens were in favor of the state outlawing the Islamic Movement (Smooha 2010). Discussion over banning the Northern Branch dated back to the Second Intifada in 2000 and the Palestinian citizen protests in support of Palestinians in the occupied territory. This perspective is illustrated in this quote from one observer: 175  |  New Watersheds

It is amazing to discover that it took Israel 15 years to finally outlaw the movement. The justification for such a step existed as far back as the Or Commission recommendations, in which High Court Justice Theodore Or examined the events that led to the eruption of riots in October 2000, and then to the second intifada. In a special chapter devoted to the Islamic Movement’s northern branch and its leader Sheikh Salah, the committee found a clear correlation between the incitement conducted by the movement’s leaders, with the eruption of the riots. (Caspit 2015)

As discussed in chapter 3, after the eruption of violence and the killing of thirteen Palestinian citizens of Israel, the Or Commission sent “warning letters” to some Palestinian leaders, including Ṣalāḥ. In this letter, Ṣalāḥ was accused of “supporting violence as a means to attain the goals of the Arab sector in Israel” and “denying the legitimacy of the existence of Israel.” Discussions in the Knesset about outlawing the Northern Branch intensified after the release of the Or Commission report in 2003 (Rubin 2015). The context of the decision and announcement of the ban in 2015 includes the outlawing of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt in 2014 by t­hen Field Marshal Abdel Fattah el‑Sisi, violent attacks against Jewish Israeli civilians in Jerusalem by individual Palestinians, and the 2015 Paris terror attack. In Jerusalem in October 2015 alone, twenty attacks took place, some leading to deaths and others that injured victims (Bowen 2015). These knife attacks, which were mostly committed by young Palestinians from East Jerusalem, against Jewish Israelis were dubbed the “stabbing intifada” (Goldberg 2015). Netanyahu’s decision to ban the Northern Branch may have been motivated by public dissatisfaction with his handling of this spike in violence and a sense that he needed to burnish his security credentials. One observer has argued that the “decision is also driven by rising political threats to Netanyahu stemming from his inability to provide day‑to‑day security to a terrorized Israeli polity. Netanyahu faces growing pressure to provide Israelis with some sense of security. In early October, a whopping 73 percent of the Israeli public was dissatisfied with how Netanyahu had responded to the violence” (Rubin 2015). In an Israeli English language TV interview on i24NEWS conducted shortly after the announcement of the ban, Muʿādh Khaṭīb, an activist in the Northern Branch, was asked for his reaction to the recent violent attacks. The interviewer challenged him by stating that killing innocent people is against the peaceful teachings of Islam and asked why the Islamic Movement had not publicly denounced the violence or actively told young people not to participate in it. The interviewer asked how Khaṭīb, as a father and a Muslim, could sit by and do nothing. Khaṭīb responded: 176  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Absolutely [violence is against Islam], but you must not forget that what motivated these attacks is Netanyahu’s policy and his orders to his police that changed the rules of engagement when he allowed them to shoot on site anyone who is only suspected [i.e., not found guilty] of throwing stones or attempting to stab someone. If they suspect anyone will stab someone they are allowed to shoot and kill him on‑site without ­trial—​­is this the democracy of Israel? And you must not forget that until this day not a single piece of evidence was brought against the Islamic Movement that proves that it is involved in one way or another in inciting against Jews or against Israel in general. Do you believe that in Israel in general, if they incited against Jews, Shaykh Ra’ed [Ṣalāḥ] and Shaykh Kamāl [Khaṭīb] would still be free? . . . . Who started that violence? When you kill people without any excuse, any justification, unlawfully, you will expect their reaction to be the same. When someone witnesses his mother or his sister or his cousin killed, what do you expect them to do? I am not justifying this; I am just explaining why it happened. No‑one wants violence, we only wanted, the Islamic Movement only wants that Muslims and Arabs have the right to worship inside al‑Āqṣā Mosque. Nothing more. All its activities are aimed at intensifying, bolstering the Arab presence in al‑Āqṣā ­mosque—​­that’s it. But the Netanyahu government don’t want that, those extremist settlers don’t want that, and they go inside al‑Āqṣā against their will and against the sovereignty of Muslims on al‑Āqṣā. And it’s a mosque, not a synagogue, with all due respect to everyone, and when you prevent Muslims from entering the mosque and beat them and teargas them and kill ­them—​­what do you expect them to do? (M. Khaṭīb 2015)

Another event that is thought to have prompted the timing of the announcement of the decision to outlaw the Northern Branch is the terror attack in Paris on November 13, 2015. One observer described these events as providing an “ideal opportunity” to announce the “decision that would turn some 10,000 Islamic Movement members, Israeli citizens, into lawbreakers. . . . Now, when France and all of Europe are on high alert due to extreme Islamic terror, Israel demonstrates how to fight subversive Islamic elements located inside the state and exemplifies the ‘defensive democracy’ concept” (Caspit 2015). As an indication of the connection, the interview with Khaṭīb on i24NEWS about the ban was titled “Aftermath of Paris terror. Arab Parliamentarians slam ban as ‘insane,’ ‘declaration of war.’ ” Despite concerns expressed by security services that outlawing the Northern Branch would likely increase radicalization among the Movement’s 177  |  New Watersheds

supporters and cause public unrest (Rubin 2015), after the initial protests described above few incidents of public unrest followed. Neither did the Northern Branch choose to challenge the decision to outlaw it in court. According to a source in the branch and lawyers in Adalah, this decision was based on a combination of factors: the political nature behind the decision, as well as the function of the old Mandate law used for the ban, which allowed the government to impose the ban based on confidential evidence, thereby rendering the accused and their lawyers unaware of the accusations brought against them (M. Khaṭīb Interview 2021; Jabareen Interview 2021). Under these circumstances, the Northern Branch leadership did not think it would be possible for a fair trial to take place and therefore decided not to go to court. This view was also based on the knowledge that, in the history of the state, no such emergency order has ever been cancelled. Accordingly, the likelihood that a legal challenge would succeed was assessed to be nil ( Jabareen Interview 2021). The branch did, however, challenge the closure of some of its social associations in court. These efforts were not successful (Ṭabāja Interview 2021). On a social level, it is quite possible that some of the consequences of the ban were more f­ar-­reaching than the government had foreseen. In addition to causing the closure of the Northern Branch’s main office and curtailing the religious and political activism of that branch, the ban affected numerous organizations and charities associated with the Movement. Similar to other ­religio-­sociopolitical movements in Israel and the wider ­region—​­whether Muslim, Jewish, or ­Christian—​­this branch of the Islamic Movement in Israel operates in a decentralized manner and relies on grassroots activism. Its activism is carried out through a loose network of organizations that offer free or subsidized assistance in education, health care, child care, and general social care. In Israel, the Islamic Movement has filled many of the gaps caused by the state’s neglect of its ­non-­Jewish Arab minority. Since the Movement’s Northern Branch was outlawed, its organizations have had to shut down and their activities have ceased, leaving thousands of pupils, students, elderly people, and other needy beneficiaries without the social, educational, and other support services they had previously received. In Jaffa alone, which since 1950 has formed a part of the Tel Aviv municipality, the ban is reported to have left 500 ­poverty-­stricken families without benefits (Ben Solomon 2015b). According to Muʿādh Khaṭīb, who was a member of the Eqraa Psychometric Exam Committee of the Northern Branch (on matriculation, see chapter 4 for details), the immediate and ­long-­term negative impacts of the ban were enormous. The students who were preparing for their university entry exam with the support of Eqraa when the ban was announced 178  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

immediately lost that support, and since then the nationwide study centers operated by Eqraa have been closed, and the services they provided are no longer available for any students. “When I teach in the Psychometric College of Eqraa, when I teach English to my students, it means I am doing something against the ­law—​­this is insane! This is what the Israeli government is doing” (M. Khaṭīb 2015). Additionally, after the ban, several thousand men and women who were employed in the various organizations funded by the Movement became unemployed overnight. According to one report, the staff at one ­unemployment office was shocked when former employees of the Movement’s o­ rganizations arrived with salary statements and papers to claim their unemployment benefits; the staff had no idea that the Movement’s organizations functioned in such an orderly manner, nor that it paid its employees’ salaries (Salaime 2016). It may be that the government had underestimated how costly the ban would prove to be for the state. Muʿādh Khaṭīb also mentioned the increase in violence in the Arab community as a problem that became more acute after the ban of the Northern Branch. Criminal violence has become one of the most pressing issues for the Arab community in Israel since the turn of the century. “From ­2000–­2020, the number of ­crime-­related deaths reached 1,518. The year 2020 itself witnessed a record 106 such ­deaths—​­12 more than 2019, which held the previous record with 94 mortalities” (Kuttab 2021). The community and its leaders complain that the authorities are not doing enough to stop this violence and accuse the state of being discriminatory toward what they consider to be a negligent attitude to the problem. “Speaking at a special Knesset session of the committee to combat violence in the Arab community in Israel last September, Knesset member Osama Saadi said Israeli police treat the killings of Arabs by Arabs differently than the killing of Jews by Arabs” (Kuttab 2021). According to Khaṭīb, with the closure of the organizations of the Northern Branch, many young people are left without anything to do or any assistance for schoolwork, potentially hindering their ability to continue education after high school; all this makes them more likely to join criminal gangs and engage in criminal activities (Khaṭīb 2021). Shortly after the Northern Branch was outlawed, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ was imprisoned for nine months, convicted on incitement charges dating back to 2007 (see chapter 2). He was released in January 2017. In August 2017, he was arrested again for another case of incitement to terrorism. That case was related to speeches he made at the funeral of three armed Palestinian men from Um al‑Faḥim who shot and killed two policemen and wounded another at the al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf/Temple Mount in 2017. At their funeral, Ṣalāḥ allegedly described the men as “martyrs” and praised their bravery; the state described 179  |  New Watersheds

them as “terrorists.” Ṣalāḥ responded that his remarks had been mistranslated, which was accepted by the court, but the court found that this fact did not alter the general meaning of his comments. In his statement, the judge is reported to have said: “Despite the attempts to give the defendant’s statements a religious character, the conclusion is that the accused expressed praise, sympathy and support for the attacks. [Freedom of expression] does not mean that a person can say whatever he feels like. There are limits, first and foremost, when it comes to state security” (Shpigel and Khoury 2020). Ṣalāḥ was sentenced to ­twenty-­eight months in prison and twelve months’ probation. Secular Palestinian members of the Knesset protested the sentence, calling the charges “vengeful” and “political” and describing them as limiting the political activities and freedoms of Palestinian citizens of Israel (Shaalan 2017). Yousef Jabareen, a member of the Knesset from the Joint List (but not a member of the Southern Branch), tweeted that Ṣalāḥ’s sentence was another act of persecution against Palestinian citizens “in a country where the prime minister, senior ministers and main religious figures incite against the Arab public and its leaders from morning til night” (Shpigel 2020). Jabreen called the sentence a “dangerous erosion of freedom of speech” against an Arab ­leader and a “delegitimization of political and religious action” (Shpigel 2020). In an interview conducted in August 2020, before entering prison, Ṣalāḥ was asked whether he thought the state fears him. He replied: As for their fear of me as an individual, I found the answer in the context of my interrogation before I was released from prison in 2017. They threatened me by saying that they would constantly go after me. I said I wanted to get out of prison and serve my people; they replied saying I could do that by joining the Knesset (the Israeli parliament). That is, of course, completely impossible and unacceptable to me. I insist on preserving my values and I cannot deviate from them because they have religious and national dimensions. This does not mean that I love prison, but at the same time I do not fear it. They do not want future generations to imitate this model, and they do not want this model to be a man with a ­well-­known position. Rather, they seek with all their strength to draw the Palestinian leaders in the areas occupied in 1948 [­present-­day Israel] to the arena which they define, and I certainly reject that. (Masarwa 2020)

Since the ban, some former leaders of the branch have attempted to arrange small events such as lectures, but the majority of Northern Branch followers 180  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

are described as being afraid to join or take part in any such events since these activities may be considered illegal (M. Khaṭīb 2021). Some individuals formerly associated with the branch have taken the initiative to fill gaps in the charity assistance formerly provided by the branch (M. Khaṭīb 2021). To illustrate, Muʿādh Khaṭīb is teaching youth about internet safety on a volunteer basis. Others are acting locally or regionally. Khaṭīb mentioned the example of Aya Khaṭīb (no relation). According to Muʿādh Khaṭīb, Aya Khaṭīb set up a charity to collect money for Palestinians in Gaza for medical treatment in Israel. The Israeli security services, however, accused her of acting as a spy for Ḥamās and arranging donations to that group. “The March 18 letter of indictment against Khatib cites relaying information to the enemy with the intent of harming state security, contact with a foreign agent and various other crimes listed in the Fight against Terrorism Law” (Svetlova 2020). Khaṭīb has been under arrest since February 17, 2020, and has received support from many in the Palestinian community, including the Southern Branch and several Joint List Knesset members who deny the state’s accusations against her. Muʿādh Khaṭīb described how he himself had been arrested in the middle of the night in October 2020 and questioned on suspicion of being an agent of Ḥamās recruited by Aya Khaṭīb (M. Khaṭīb 2021). He explained that he is not sure why they suspected him and says that, in his view, the case illustrates how anyone who tries to revive Northern Branch activities will be targeted by the authorities: “They don’t want an independent Palestinian society in Israel” (M. Khaṭīb 2021). In sum, many observers of divergent political standpoints agree that the reason for outlawing the Northern Branch was about politics, not security. The consequences included the closure of most of the s­ocial- and ­community-­oriented associations of the branch. This led to unemployment and a lack of services. This in turn has further increased the level of violence within the Arab community. Politically, the ban seems to have been a success for the government. Despite initial reactions, no l­arge-­scale protests or civil unrest materialized, as feared by Shin Bet; neither has any new movement developed to replace the Northern Branch. In terms of Islamist politics in Israel, banning the Northern Branch seems to have provided additional momentum for the Southern Branch to develop its integrationist approach. Now that the Southern Branch represents the only Islamist voice in Israeli politics, it h ­ as—​­under new and younger ­leadership—​­become bolder in dealing with the ­right-­wing government, as discussed below. 181  |  New Watersheds

the elections of 2019 and 2020 When Knesset elections were held in April 2019, more than 50 percent of Palestinian voters chose to boycott them (Milstein and Abu Mokh 2019; Darawashe 2019) due to a combination of factors, including the community’s rising sense of political dissatisfaction and marginalization by the state; their disappointment with their own Arab politicians (who despite having formed the third largest party in the Knesset proved unable to translate that electoral success into meaningful impact on legislation); and to keep the alliance of the Joint List together. Due to Israel’s r­ ight-­wing political leadership and increasing legal restrictions on Palestinian citizens since ­2009—​­including more than thirty new laws that directly or indirectly discriminate against them (Adalah 2017; see also chapter 4)—​­Palestinians in general (and not just Islamist supporters of the Northern Branch) are losing faith in and motivation to participate in the electoral process. For many Palestinian citizens in Israel, the final straw was the ­Nation-­State Law enacted in July 2018, which declares that Israel is “the ­nation-­state of the Jewish people,” thereby officially excluding Israel’s ­non-­Jewish citizens. Critics allege that with the law, by legally affirming that the right to national ­self-­determination in Israel is solely for its Jewish people, Palestinian citizens are now officially ­second-­class citizens. Member of the Knesset Aida ­Touma-­Suleiman reacted by saying that “the law makes Israel an official apartheid state even within the Green Line [1948 borders], so it is not an internal Israeli matter” (Landau 2018). The Association for Civil Rights in Israel commented that “it is a law that does not address minorities whatsoever, neither their collective nor individual rights. In fact, the law makes evident to all n ­ on-­Jews that they are s­ econd-­class citizens in the country, in particular the indigenous Arab minority that constitutes 20% of the country’s citizens” (ACRI 2018). According to some observers, support for boycotting the 2019 elections was especially high among the younger generation: At present, most young Arabs between 18 and 30 see little point in voting, in large part because they do not believe that they have the ability [to] affect or shape the political system. But that is not to say that young Arabs are indifferent to what is going on around them, despite this portrayal by some in politics, the media, and in academia. Instead, [this] segment’s future participation in politics and elections depends on its satisfaction with the government and the political system, as well as on political parties’ ability to resolve the 182  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

socioeconomic challenges faced by this younger generation. (Milstein and Abu Mokh 2019)

Esheh Hajjar, described as a “former activist of the outlawed Northern Branch,” articulated disappointment that the new law reflected [first] changes in Israeli society that have made it increasingly a society of hatred toward Arabs and other minorities; the second is the inability of communities to prevent the passing of such laws due to weak and ineffective leadership. . . . Hatred has blinded Israeli society, and their fear of minorities made them act ­unreasonably—​­to support anything against these groups that would ensure their inability to have any influence. The question is, in my opinion: how would a democratic state look when ignorance and hatred drown out the sound of reason? (Daoud 2019)

As these two comments indicate, many Palestinian voters supported the election boycott because they were disappointed with Arab members of the Knesset who failed to meet expectations and did not cooperate with one another or provide the unity promised by the Joint List (discussed below). Some are reported to have complained that they heard one message from these leaders in Hebrew and another in Arabic: in Hebrew, the Joint List tended to present a united front, whereas in Arabic they were quarrelling publicly (Rudnikzky 2019). Since the inception of the Joint List, critics have warned that the unification experiment may result in its disintegration and perhaps also of those parties that formed it if they failed to meet voter expectations. Despite having many common goals, the Joint List parties maintain different opinions on social issues including gender relations and the relationship between religion and politics (see chapter 5). Beyond overcoming differences, they need to show constituencies they can challenge Israel’s increasingly restrictive policies toward the Arab national minority and its violent occupation of Palestinian territory. Some have also expressed concern that the Joint List’s representatives appear to care more about their own political careers than the minority community they represent (Ghanem, Buttu, and Ali 2015). Prior to the April 2019 elections, the parties on the Joint List were reported to have been unable to settle a disagreement over seat rotation in the Knesset, leaving voters with the impression that they cared more about their own parties and individual careers than about Palestinian unity and the ­well-­being of the constituency (Sawaed 2019). The Joint List split, and in the April 2019 elections two lists representing Palestinian citizens stood for 183  |  New Watersheds

elections: One formed of the Democratic Front for Peace and Equality and the Arab Movement for Renewal (which secured six seats), and the other formed of the United Arab List (the political list representing the Southern Branch of the Islamic Movement) and the National Democratic Assembly (which secured four seats). In total, the parties representing Palestinian citizens secured ten seats, a reduction of three compared to the thirteen seats the Joint List won in the 2015 elections. In short, some Palestinian voters seem to have stayed away from the polls to punish politicians for perceived bad behavior. Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur had this to say about the challenges to the Joint List: There are still many difficulties hindering the Joint List from reaching its full potential: the ­non-­existence of joint structures for the parties composing the List and the lack of daily coordination between members have both already caused several media embarrassments and intensified existing conflicts. More importantly, the lack of joint structures impedes the development of a ­long-­term strategy. However, the main threat to the future of the Joint List remains the extreme ­right-­wing attempts to illegalize its members and ban it from the Knesset. The legal and public campaign to delegitimize the Palestinian minority, as well as the government’s repeated and varied gestures to hamper the rule of law, all present a real danger for democratic forces inside Israel. (Ṣarṣur Email 2021)

According to Shwartz Altshuler, a senior fellow of the Israeli Democracy Institute, an additional factor contributing to the low turnout among Palestinian citizens in April 2019 was that “Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s party ‘intended to suppress the Arab vote. There’s no way to skirt around that point’ ” (Magid 2019). Altshuler cited a Facebook post by one organizer who boasted of the project’s success in reducing Arab voter turnout to below 50 percent. Per Altshuler, the strategy involved equipping polling officials stationed in Arab towns with cameras, as the Likud party was “motivated not by its proclaimed desire to prevent voter fraud, but rather by a desire to suppress turnout in those targeted communities” (Magid 2019). However, the results of the April 2019 elections were inconclusive, with no party able to form a coalition government. Accordingly, repeat ­elections were held in September 2019. This time, the different parties who had formed the Joint List were reunited and participated in the elections as one list. Surprising many, more than 60 percent of Palestinian citizens voted in the September 2019 elections (Times of Israel staff 2019). The increased turnout is attributed to a combination of factors, including the perceived slander 184  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

of Arab citizens by Prime Minister Netanyahu (discussed just below) and the reunification of the Joint List. According to a survey conducted by Sikkuy and the Abraham Initiatives published in July 2019, two factors would motivate Palestinian citizens to vote: “(1) inclusive messages by the ­center-­left parties; and (2) reuniting of the Joint List” (Abbas et al. 2020). Based on these findings, to increase voting by this constituency Sikkuy and the Abraham Initiatives launched “a direct influence campaign, that included a series of meetings and presentations with leaders from a wide range of parties that share our core values, including . . . ​ʾAyman ʿŪda, ʾAḥmad Ṭībī, Manṣūr ʿAbās and Walīd Ṭaha (The Joint List) and others. The influence of this campaign could not be missed in the streets of Arab cities, news websites and social media.” Similar to the 2015 elections, the idea of one joint list for all parties representing Palestinian citizens seems to have attracted more voters. As for the slander perpetuated days before the elections, Netanyahu had a pop‑up message on his Facebook page: “The Arabs want to annihilate us ­all—​­women, children and men” (Times of Israel staff 2019). This is similar to his comments about Arabs voting “in droves” during the 2015 elections. Abed Abu Shehadeh, a city council member in the Palestinian neighborhood of Jaffa, is reported to have made this comment about the slander: “It backfired, Netanyahu’s political discourse gave Arabs a sense of i­mportance—​ ­that their vote does matter” (Holmes 2019). Joint List leader ʿŪda is similarly reported to have said that there is “a heavy price to pay for incitement,” adding the party intended to “send that inciter Netanyahu home” (Holmes 2019). Netanyahu’s slander continued through the rest of the year while coalition talks were ongoing. On November 16 Netanyahu tweeted that “a government dependent on Arab parties is an existential threat, an immediate threat to the security of Israel,” amid reports that the oppositional Blue and White party leader, Beny Katz, might try to form a government with the support of the Joint List. Even the conservative Jerusalem Post published an article titled “Netanyahu, enough” in which it criticized the prime minister for his long “smear campaign” against the country’s “­Israeli-­Arabs” and particularly against the Joint List ( Jerusalem Post Editorial 2019). The piece concluded that the threat was not realistic and stated that Arab members of the Knesset could be partners in a future government. Indeed, a summary of the survey by Sikkuy and the Abraham Initiative describes a “historic interview” in the Hebrew newspaper Yedioth Aharonot with ʾAyman ʿŪda, who said that the Joint List would agree to join a government coalition (Abbas et al. 2020). For the first time, it seemed possible and acceptable for a Palestinian list to consider forming part of an Israeli 185  |  New Watersheds

government. This fact might also have attracted voters who thought their vote would contribute to tangible change. In September 2019, the Joint List’s leaders endorsed Gantz; significantly, this was the first time a party or list representing Palestinian citizens had endorsed a Zionist leader for prime minister since 1992. After the elections, ʿŪda said the Joint List would not participate in a coalition government but that it would endorse Gantz for prime minister (Hincks 2019). However, coalition talks between Netanyahu and Gantz during the fall of 2019 yet again failed to bear fruit, leading to another election in March 2020. In that election, the Joint List secured its largest number of seats ever (fifteen representatives in the Knesset) and maintained its position as the ­third-­largest party. Of the fifteen, four represented the Southern Branch. One academic observer called the victory “historic” and cited several reasons for it, including mature relations between the Joint List members that enabled them to rise above differences of opinion; a clear vision and objectives, among which were the intention to increase representation in the Knesset, removing Netanyahu, and improving the future prospects of Palestinian citizens; and an awareness of the indignation among its constituency due to racist attacks from Jewish politicians, US president Donald Trump’s peace plan, and the precarity of their citizenship (Zaher 2020). Trump’s peace plan, presented in January 2020, was unacceptable to most Palestinians, including the PLO and the leadership of the Palestinian Authority in the occupied Palestinian territory. It proposed Israeli military control over land, sea, and airspace; recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel only; and recognized the illegal settlements in the occupied Palestinian West Bank. The plan also proposed a population transfer of Palestinian citizens in the so‑called Triangle area of Israel (see chapter 4) from Israel to a new rump state of Palestine. One response to the latter proposal, from a Palestinian citizen of Israel, was an op‑ed in Ha’aretz titled “Donald Trump Wants to Revoke My Citizenship. Because I’m an Arab” (Mhajne 2020). Despite the election results, the outcome was disappointing to Palestinian citizens because Gantz ultimately formed a coalition with Netanyahu, yet again leaving the Palestinian representatives on the sidelines and thereby opening the door for Netanyahu’s new plan to annex parts of the occupied West Bank and for settler groups to gain greater access to the al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf/Temple Mount. Motivated by Trump’s peace plan, Netanyahu declared in autumn 2019 that he planned to annex “as much land as possible within the narrow timeline being granted by the Americans” (Magid 2020). He planned to start with fifteen Jewish communities (illegal settlements according to international law) in July 2020. In response to the announced annexation plans, leaders of the Joint List “called on the European Union 186  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

to suspend its ties with Israel unless Jerusalem announces it has abandoned its plans to annex large parts of the West Bank as envisioned by the Trump peace plan” (Times of Israel staff 2020). The annexation plans were shelved in August following Israel’s conclusion of a normalization agreement with the United Arab Emirates. It should also be noted that the emergency posed by the C ­ OVID-­19 pandemic in Israel in 2020 created additional challenges in Israeli politics and to the Joint List in particular. Among other things, the pandemic diverted attention from issues the Joint List sought to promote in parliament and arguably caused the Israeli public to rally around Benyamin Netanyahu’s government as it sought to address the health crisis. In summer 2020, the parties on the Joint List had a public disagreement over the so‑called conversion therapy debate, referring to any form of treatment that aims to alter a person’s sexual orientation or suppress a person’s gender identity. Manṣūr ʿAbās, leader of the United List from the Southern Branch, threatened to leave the Joint List when some members from other parties voted against a bill that would provide psychotherapists the opportunity to perform such therapy in Israel. More surprising was the new connection between ʿAbās and Netanyahu’s Likud. ʿAbās broke ranks with the Joint List by making contact with Netanyahu and abstaining from the December 2 vote to dissolve his government. Whereas ousting Netanyahu was a high priority for the other three parties in the Joint List, ʿAbās argued that new elections would install an even more ­right-­wing government and risk jeopardizing funding Netanyahu had promised to Arab municipalities, as well as other measures to fight violence in the Palestinian community (Boxerman 2020). “I don’t support Netanyahu, nor am I seeking to protect him. I’m trying to create change for my ­constituency—​­in fighting organized crime, in the housing crisis, recognizing the unrecognized [Bedouin] villages. There’s only one premier, and that’s Netanyahu. He is the address for these demands,” ʿAbās told the Times of Israel (Boxerman 2020). A Southern Branch spokesperson elaborated on the rationale behind this ­taboo-­breaking approach: “ ‘People want achievements on the ground. People want to live in peace, they want solutions to housing, solutions to violence,’ he added, asserting that there was widespread support for ʿAbās’s approach to politics among Arab Israelis” (Boxerman 2020). When asked about a potential split of the Joint List over these issues, former Southern Branch leader Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur chose to focus on what he called “the dispute over the identity of the Arab society” (Ṣarṣur Email 2021). First, he mentioned the support for homosexuals from the socialist Democratic Front for Peace and Equality party, arguing that “the overwhelming majority of the conservative Arab community rejects this trend, and considers 187  |  New Watersheds

it a serious attack on one of the pillars of religious and national identity.” Second, he mentioned what the Southern Branch considers to be a systematic attack on the Islamic religious courts, arguing they “represent the last bastion of Islamic s­ elf-­rule in personal status” and are threatened by secular Christians such as ­Touman-­Suleiman (see chapter 5). He continued: “It’s very important to draw the attention that 85% of the Arab population in Israel are Moslems. . . . The war on the religious identity of our society has become part of the Communist Party’s public agenda, something that the Islamic government cannot accept” (Ṣarṣur Email 2021). Yet, in the same conversation, Ṣarṣur also lamented the new developments: As an Arab society, the leadership and the people have become a miserable version of the reality of Arab decadence, at a time when Israeli arrogance that does not place any weight on values, morals, principles or norms increases, we are getting torn apart. . . . At a time when they unite over their falsehood and rally around their old decadence, we are increasingly divided and fragmented despite everything that should unite us. I hope that the two [Arab] parties win the coming elections [in 2021], otherwise the situation of the Arab community will be very bad. [The] day after the elections, the two parties must work immediately with all energy in order to rebuild the unity again, and cooperate in order to reach this goal without delay. As I said, there is no justification for the division, and there will also be no justification for the continuation of the division. (Ṣarṣur Email 2021)

In summary, leaders of the Southern Branch were among the initiators and most fervent supporters of the Joint List. The belief that Palestinians should represent themselves under one banner with one voice vis‑à‑vis the Israeli state and society was a pillar of thought for the Islamic Movement’s first leader, Shaykh Darwīsh (see chapter 3). However, as is obvious from the Joint List’s initial split in 2019 and the problems it faced after reunification that same year, and as spokespersons and interviewees from the Southern Branch have admitted, the Joint List was never a stable union. Internally, the main challenges included disagreements over positions in the Knesset; social matters, such as those relating to personal status and sexuality; and the preferred approach for the Palestinian minority to secure tangible improvements for their community vis‑à‑vis interactions with a prime minister who has remained in office consecutively for more than a decade and as of publication was the l­ongest-­serving premier in Israeli history. These tensions are exacerbated by the increasingly narrowing space for Palestinian 188  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

citizens to articulate political goals in a state defined as one exclusively for Jewish citizens.

conclusion As this chapter underscores, the Islamic Movement faces great c­ hallenges in Israel whether or not it opts to pursue an integrationist agenda, as the Southern Branch has done, or an isolationist agenda, as the Northern Branch has done since 2013. The political behavior of the Southern Branch indicates it is willing and able to participate in a flawed democratic system and can form coalitions across ideological boundaries. This proves that its Islamist ideology does not prevent it from seeking political compromise across ideological and religious divides. Indeed, there are Islamic theological precedents that the Movement is able to cite in support of pragmatic engagement, whether with the state and the Knesset or its participation within the Joint List. However, political power seems to have a price, and according to some sources the branch’s leaders are struggling to balance its ­short-­term agenda with the ­long-­term goal of Islamizing its constituency and society. The precarity of this balancing act, and the futility of a ­non-­Zionist agenda within a political system designed to protect and advance the Jewish state, were cited by Northern Branch leaders as the rationale for their decision to no longer take part in elections and instead to focus on Islamist community work. These contrasting approaches clearly indicate that, whereas the Southern Branch is crystalizing its position in the Israeli Knesset through membership in the Joint List, the Northern Branch has opted to distance itself from Israeli political life by refusing to participate in national and local elections. The cost is the outlawing of the Northern Branch and the political persecution of its leaders through criminal prosecutions based on spurious grounds. The banning of the Northern Branch appears to have had the effect of unifying Palestinian citizens in protest, reinforcing the view that the Islamic Movement and its supporters are perceived as legitimate representatives of the Palestinian community in Israeli politics and, as such, subject to politicized and unjustified attacks from the government. As a result, many other ­non-­Muslim and n ­ on-­Islamist groups will support them. From the Israeli authorities’ perspective, the ban was successful. After the ban, the Northern Branch and its institutions no longer existed, but that has negative ramifications for the constituency that depended on those services. There was no widespread unrest, as feared by the Shin Bet, and as far as we know, no underground substitute movement has emerged. 189  |  New Watersheds

Conclusion i sl a m i st pal esti ni an na tio n a lists m a de i n i sr ael

T

he development of the strategies and ideology of the Islamic Movement in Israel is a product of its Islamist outlook and the Israeli sociopolitical context. That context not only impacted the Movement’s development but also motivated its supporters, ­simultaneously providing opportunities for and imposing limitations on the movement itself. In order to appreciate its unique nature, the Movement must be understood in context. This is key to understanding how the Movement came into being, how it developed, and how it has been framed by the State of Israel and other actors and observers. As stated in the introduction, key regional events included establishment of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt in 1928; the 1967 War; and the Iranian Revolution in 1979. These foreshadowed the Islamization of Muslim ­Palestinian citizens in Israel. But the establishment and development of the Islamic Movement in Israel were driven by local events: establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 and the related ­Israeli-­Arab War; establishment of the Islamic Movement in Israel in 1983; its split in 1996; the Southern Branch’s decision to join the Joint List and stand for elections in 2015; and the outlawing of the Northern Branch that same year. First, we learned to appreciate the circumstances that caused the generation that established the Movement to become Islamists. They were isolated from the rest of the Arab Muslim world as citizens (or residents, depending on their legal status) of the Jewish state, which was established on the territory of their homeland and under whose restrictive military regime they lived until 1966. They were then allowed (and even encouraged) to attend educational institutions on the West Bank and reunite with other members of their national c­ ommunity—​­a direct consequence of the Israeli occupation that began in 1967 and continues to this day. In some ways, the Palestinian 190

Muslim community in Israel responded to the 1967 War as elsewhere in the region, namely, by (re)turning to religion as a form of cultural nationalism. However, in the case of Palestinian citizens, the resulting Israeli occupation had the positive (and paradoxical) consequence of reuniting the community with fellow Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. This provided Palestinian citizens of Israel the opportunity to access Islamic educational institutions in these areas and exposed them to Islamist ideas and networks and official Islamic scholarship. Setting up an Islamist movement in the only country in the region that lacked a Muslim majority population or government set it apart from other Islamist movements in the region. In 1983, the Islamic Movement in Israel was formally established by Shaykh ʿAbdallah Nimr Darwīsh. Modeled on the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, the new Movement adopted a nonviolent approach and focused on providing its community a bottom‑up Islamization motivated by the concept of daʿwa: that is, religious activism aimed to improve the Islamic lifestyle of individuals and the community at large, as interpreted according to Islamist ideology. As with the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt, the main focus of the Islamic Movement in Israel was to establish a grassroots Islamic sector to provide services from cradle to grave through volunteer associations and organizations. Those organizations also served to connect individuals with one another, effectively building and strengthening a network among the Movement’s supporters. However, the Movement is different from the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt in its practical approach to Islamization and in the way it uses Islamist ideology and methodology to respond to pressures the community faces from a state and society committed to maintaining Jewish dominance. The Israeli context has produced particular needs for the Palestinian minority in Israel that in some ways are distinct from the needs of Palestinians in the occupied Palestinian territory. In response to the shifting realities of the Israeli social and political contexts, the leaders and activists of the Movement continuously adjusted (and sometimes disagreed on) methodology. In addition to the overarching and obvious goal of Islamization, the Movement focuses (as it has from the beginning) on the social, educational, and cultural needs of the Palestinian population in Israel. It has chosen the verb “protect” to describe its trifecta of goals: defend and take care of ­Palestinian land, religious sites, and people. It pursues those goals through its organizations, most significantly the Al‑Āqṣā Association, which works to preserve and protect that important mosque and other Palestinian religious sites in Israel and in ­Israeli-­occupied East Jerusalem. Through grassroots activism across the country, the Islamic Movement has improved the lives of its constituency at all levels, including direct financial support, ­after-­school 191  | Conclusion

tuition provided by educational organizations, and preparing Palestinian pupils to sit for Hebrew language entrance exams for entry to Israeli universities, just to name a few. The physical safety, education, health, social needs, and national identity of Palestinian citizens of Israel are as important to the Movement’s vision and practice as the spreading of Islam and the promotion of a religiously observant Sunni Islamic lifestyle. As such, the Movement shares common interests with national and secular political parties and organizations representing the general interests of Palestinian citizens in Israel, and to varying degrees the Movement cooperates and competes with those groups. However, the Islamic Movement often finds itself at odds with some organizations due to different methodological approaches. Whereas the Islamic Movement directly provides material and financial assistance to the Palestinian community in Israel and advocates autonomy and ­self-­reliance, secular organizations such as Mossawa and HILA seek to persuade the state to provide a proportionate share of resources to those citizens. Other issues of concern are often referred to as “social issues” related to sexual orientation, marriage age, feminism, and the meaning of gender equality. In addition to activities intended to protect Palestinian land, communities, and historic sites, the Islamic Movement’s local, national, and regional institutions and organizations also spread the Movement’s Islamic, Arab, and Palestinian identity as an alternative and a corrective to Israelization. The Movement bases its i­dentity-­building on what is described as three “circles of belonging”: Arab, Palestinian, and Muslim. The Movement has identified a need to reeducate the population not only about Islam but also about Palestinian history and the Arabic l­anguage—​­two fields of knowledge that were neglected or undermined by the Israeli state school system (which most Palestinian citizens attend) and by the Israeli society at large. Due to the need to learn Hebrew in order to attend higher educational institutions in Israel and become hired by most employers, proficiency in written Arabic among the Palestinian population has deteriorated since 1948. As regards history, Palestinians, like all citizens of Israel, are taught a Zionist narrative in school. This narrative is reinforced in Israeli public venues, celebrations, media, and society, leaving little space for Palestinian heritage, culture, and counternarratives. In an effort to provide a corrective from a Palestinian nationalist perspective, the Movement has set up several different organizations, including ­pupil- and ­student-­oriented associations that provide educational services across the country. These associations not only propagate a Palestinian narrative of history but also provide ­support—​­in both Hebrew and ­Arabic—​ ­for pupils and students seeking to thrive in Israeli institutions of higher 192  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

education. All of the Movement’s associations and institutions are open to all. There is no requirement that a student/pupil have a connection with the Movement or to Islam in order to take advantage of their services. These organizations are also significant employers of Palestinians in Israel, especially Palestinian women, a group that is among the most underemployed in Israel. Indeed, some of the Movement’s organizations are established and run by women for women and utilize interpretations of Islamic sources to advocate for women’s rights and to oppose unfair practices that are often justified on religious grounds, such as polygamy and honor killings. The Movement entered local politics in the early 1980s. It has since continued to participate in (and win) local elections as an effective means to build grassroots support and gain a degree of power. Local elections are particularly important to Palestinians in Israel, for only there can they exert direct control over their communities’ needs and priorities. As illustrated by the case of Um al‑Faḥim, by engaging in local politics the Movement was able to challenge the traditional Palestinian clan style of politics and the secular Palestinian political parties, presenting an alternative vision based on volunteerism and religious revivalist ideology. The Islamic Movement also earned a degree of credibility by successfully providing services for which there was high demand. Divergent views on whether the Islamic Movement should also participate in national elections in 1996 led to the split of the Movement into two branches: the Southern Branch, first led by Shaykh ʿAbdallah Nimr Darwīsh, then by Shaykh Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur, and now by Shaykh Ḥammād Abu Daʿābis; and the Northern Branch, led by Shaykh Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ until it was outlawed in 2015. Since 1996, Southern Branch leaders have been represented in the Knesset on lists formed together with other Palestinian political parties. By contrast, until 2013, leaders of the Northern Branch participated only in local elections. The Northern Branch ran the municipality of Um al‑Faḥim from 1989 to 2013, when the branch decided to cease standing for elections and abstained from further participation in any electoral processes in Israel. The split of the Movement in 1996 led to what is here described as “mirrored” organizations in which each branch offered similar religious, social, educational, and cultural services. This led to competition between them for funding and supporters. Students interviewed for this project described the split as negative and as something they wished to overcome. The branches did engage in reunification talks at several points, but meaningful reunification never materialized. Prior to the Northern Branch’s forced dissolution in 2015, leaders of both branches maintained that their branches were l­aw-­abiding. Both have tried to use the representative and bureaucratic systems of the state to the benefit 193  | Conclusion

of their respective constituencies at the local level. However, the Israeli state, the media, and the public have generally portrayed the Northern Branch as “radical,” whereas the Southern Branch is often described as “moderate.” Prior to 2015, media attention on the Islamic Movement in general and the Northern Branch in particular often focused on the personality of Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, especially his uncompromising speeches, the many times he has been arrested for such speeches, and his convictions for incitement to violence and racism. The offices of his branch had been ransacked on multiple occasions, with materials confiscated in connection to accusations of incitement and having ties to Ḥamās, a proscribed terrorist organization in Israel. Ṣalāḥ has refuted all accusations against him and responds to charges of incitement by claiming that his words were mistranslated or taken out of context. Whenever the Northern Branch was assailed by the government, other representatives of Palestinian citizens in Israel, including secular and Christian representatives, came to its defense. As this book has contended, juxtaposing the Northern and Southern Branches of the Islamic Movement as “radical” or “moderate” is reductive and imprecise. In my view, such a lazy categorization serves less to advance understanding of the principal differences between the branches and more to undermine the Northern Branch for its unwillingness to integrate into the state’s Jewish e­ thno-­nationalist electoral system. Aside from their divergent views on the question of participation in national elections, the two branches had more in common than that which divided ­them—​­including shared religious revivalist and national ­goals—​­but they disagreed over the most effective and ­Islamic-­permissible methods to advance such goals vis‑à‑vis the Israeli state. In addition, they were always treated differently by the government, state institutions, and media, further cementing, if not explaining or justifying, the image of one as “moderate” and the other as “radical.” Instead of using such polarizing terminology, I have suggested that both branches should be recognized as “pragmatic” in the sense that they modify their Islamist ideology and activism to suit the context; an even more meaningful distinction might describe the Southern Branch as “integrationist” and the Northern Branch as “isolationist” vis‑à‑vis the state. In summary, the methodology adopted by both branches reflects an Islamist approach shaped and adapted to their specific context. The Islamic Movement in Israel is putting Islam at the center of political, cultural, and social affairs while localizing and nationalizing a revivalist religious ideology. In addition to advocating a (re)turn to an observant Islamic lifestyle for individuals, families, and communities, the Movement infused its activities with national and cultural Arab Palestinian elements. Based on this analysis, the best description of these Islamists is “Islamist Palestinian nationalists.” 194  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Similar to the development of the oppositional Brotherhood movement in Egypt, the Islamic Movement in Israel focuses on localized activity within Palestinian communities in Israel where it can exert influence where its constituents live. ­State-­level institutions such as the Knesset were not on its radar until the 1990s. The entry of the Southern Branch into national elections did not cause the leadership to consider that the state’s democratic infrastructure offered equality of opportunity to political groups that challenged the ­ethno-­nationalist agenda of Israel. On the contrary, leaders of the Southern Branch expressed to me views that reflect a skeptical attitude vis‑à‑vis any ability to impact legislation in a meaningful way. Notwithstanding their skepticism, the Southern Branch has continued to advance an integrationist approach to engaging with the state. In 2015, two significant events widened the divide between the integrationist Southern Branch and the isolationist Northern Branch. In March of that year, the Southern Branch ran for national elections on the new Joint List, an electoral list of candidates made up of the four parties with a predominantly Palestinian leadership and support base. The unification of those parties on a single list was very popular among Palestinian citizens, and the Joint List performed well in elections in 2015, 2019, and 2020. In 2020, the Joint List secured fifteen seats, making it the ­third-­largest party in the Knesset. The Southern Branch was one of the initiators of the Joint List and has advocated for unification among predominantly Palestinian parties since it began participating in national elections in 1996. Later in 2015, the Northern Branch was outlawed along with all organizations that were affiliated to it. This came as a shock, despite inklings that some new restrictions were likely to materialize. From the perspective of the Northern Branch’s leaders and supporters, the ban was devastating. Its leader, Ra’ed Ṣalāḥ, has since been convicted and imprisoned for incitement and for maintaining ties to Ḥamās and remains in prison at the time of publication.

the future . . . As for the future of the Islamic Movement, the challenges it faces are many, but those faced by the leaders and supporters of the ­now-­dissolved Northern Branch are different from those facing the Southern Branch. Whereas the Southern Branch is struggling to find a balance between integration and its ability to practice its P ­ alestinian–­Arab–­Islamic outreach, the (­now-­former) leaders and supporters of the outlawed Northern Branch are struggling to find new means by which to organize and give expression to their own vision and agenda. 195  | Conclusion

It is noteworthy that, despite the pressures and restrictions placed on the Northern Branch, these developments have not yet produced violent reactions from supporters or splinter groups. Abstinence from violence is perhaps one of the reasons why the Islamic Movement is generally overshadowed, or even neglected, compared to other political expressions of Palestinian nationalism and Islamist movements in the region that tend to attract heightened attention from scholars and the media. This tendency is unfortunate considering the historical and contemporary importance of the national and indigenous minority community that the Islamic Movement in Israel represents; the significance of the holy sites it actively works to protect, in particular the al‑Āqṣā mosque; and the decisive crossroads at which the Islamic Movement is located: deciding how best to engage political adversaries within a J­ ewish-­nationalist state founded atop its homeland. The Islamic Movement is not only a significant party to the question of how to resolve the wider conflict between Israel and Palestinians; its unique status also makes it a critical case study for furthering scholarly understanding of ­sociopolitical–­religious developments in the region in ­general—​­and Islamist movements in particular. This study of the origins and events surrounding the Islamic Movement in Israel illustrates that context is the key to understanding its history.

196  |  The Islamic Movement in Israel

Appendix A s tu dent su r v ey, 2012

Questionnaire on Islamic Student Activism in Israel Distributed to students associated with both branches of the Islamic Movement at the University of Haifa, Ben Gurion University, and the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Translated from Arabic.

background information B1

Type of location?

Village/rural Disadvantaged urban area ­Middle-­class, wealthy urban area “Mixed” city

1 2 3 4

B2

Gender?

Male Female

1 2

B3

Age?

Completed years

B4

Marital status?

Single (never married) Married Widowed (not remarried) Divorced/separated

1 2 3 4

B5

Do you have children?

Yes No

1 2

B7

What is your highest level of education completed?

Basic Vocational education ­Secondary–­academic ­Secondary–­vocational Higher ­education–­post-­secondary degree

1 2 3 4 5

197

|_|_| ➔ B6

Which of these characteristics best describe your identity?

Arab Israeli/Israeli Arab Palestinian citizens of Israel Muslim Arab Other (please add)

1 2 3 4 5

Do you come from an observant family?

Yes No NA

1 2 3

Is your family active in the Islamic Movement?

Yes No NA

1 2 3

general satisfaction/outlook S1

Overall, how satisfied are you with your life these days?

Very satisfied Rather satisfied Acceptable Rather unsatisfied Very unsatisfied DK NA

1 2 3 4 5 8 9

S3

What is your expectation for how things in your life will be a year from now? Compared to today, will they be . . . ?

Better The same Worse DK NA

1 2 3 8 9

Yes, sure Yes, I hope/think/believe so No, I doubt it No, for sure not DK NA

1 2 3 4 8 9

livelihoods L5

Do you think you will be able to get the job you want in the future?

198  | Appendix

L6

Do you think your future job will enable you to cover your (future) household’s daily living expenses?

1 2 3 4 8 9

Yes, sure Yes, I hope/think/believe so No, I doubt it No, for sure not DK NA

political engagement, youth politics P1

There are many ways in which people can be active participants in their communities or more generally in public life. Please tell me if you consider yourself very active or active in any of the following ways:

1. NGO/organization/ association 2.  Political party 3. Trade union/ professional association 4. Other organization 5. Individually/ independent of any organization

P2

Are you a member of any . . .

1. Women’s organizations 2. Youth organizations 3. Social organizations 4. Religious organizations 5. Other club/ organizations

P3

If any ‘Yes’ in P2: Do you attend meetings or participate in an activity . . .

Weekly Monthly A few (­1–­2) times a year Passive member NA

1 2 3 4 9

What was your inspiration to get involved in student activism?

Religious reasons/da’wa Improving the situation of Palestinian students Practical assistance for the student group Other (please specify)

1 2

199  | Appendix

1 Yes=very active; 2 Yes=somewhat active; 3 No; 8 DK; 9 NA 1  2  3  8  9 1  2  3  8  9 1  2  3  8  9 1  2  3  8  9 1  2  3  8  9

1=Yes; 2=No; 9=NA 1  2  9 1  2  9 1  2  9 1  2  9 1  2  9

3 4

Is it likely that you will be active in the Islamic Movement after your studies?

Yes No DK NA

1 2 3 4

Is it likely that you will be active in politics (generally) after your studies?

Yes No DK NA

1 2 3 4

P10

Many people say that young Palestinians are not interested in politics. Do you agree?

Yes No DK NA

1 2 8 9

P16

Have you participated in any demonstrations or political meetings as a student?

Yes, several times Yes, once No DK NA

1 2 3 8 9

P18

What role do young people play in political parties today? Is it . . .

A big role A little role No role DK NA

1 2 3 4 5

P19

Today, in which of the political parties do young people have the most influence?

Tajammu al‑Jabbah Islamic Movement Risala Ibnaa al Balad None of them DK NA

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Has the Arab Spring influenced Palestinians in Israel?

Yes No Don’t know No answer

1 2 3 4

200  | Appendix

Appendix B Map One: Main Areas of Palestinian Localities in Israel*

Galilee Nahariya .,_~~~ Acre • Ka':iel

i

Haifa

S ~a Amr Nazare! ~..-.....;:•;.._~ Tiberias

The Triangle

mma-Fa11em 1 --...F r-~·'·

~-

/

Hadera •

?

1 Kafr Qaj;'t! Petach 1jkva •

8

aqa

• Nablus

\

Tel-Aviv • Jails ~ ;

. 1 \

r'!...

Ashdod •

r·

fJ Jecusalem

/

( r=--:-~., I

.J

H:bron

\.-·-

.'

/ _./

•

Arad

The Negev Mitzpe Ramon

•

• This map is schematic and does not reflect an accurate scale.

201

List of Sources

interviews Primary Interviewees ʿAbās, ʾUsāma. Student leader in the al‑Risāla student association. July 2008, Hebrew University, Jerusalem. Abu Ras, Thabet. Director of Adalah’s Naqab Office. November 2013, tour of the area guided by him. ʿAfān, Dawūd. Student leader in al‑Kalām at Ben Gurion University. February 2012, Kafr Kana. Badawy, Sāmy. Educational adviser in al‑Kalām student association. January 2012, Kafr Qasim. Bāsil. Student leader in Eqraa. January 2012, Eqraa Office, Um al‑Faḥim. Bdair, ʿĀdil. Mayoral candidate in Kafr Qasim for the Southern Branch. May 2012, his home in Kafr Qasim. Editor of Īshraqa magazine. November 2013, Women organizations offices, Um al‑Faḥim. Farrān, Muḥamad. Manager of Eqraa student association. May 2010 and January 2012, Eqraa offices, Um al‑Faḥim. Frij, Ṣafwān. In the leadership of the Southern Branch. May 2012, Kafr Qasim. Ghāzy, ʿĪsā. Fukan organization, Qur’an school. February 2012, Kafr Qasim. Ḥijāzī, Ībrahīm. Manager of al‑Kalām student association. January 2012, Tamra. Khamāīsī, ʿUmar. Lawyer at Meezan Center. May 2010, in Meezan office, Nazareth. Khaṭīb, Kamāl. Deputy leader of the Northern Branch. July 2008, in his office in Kafr Kara. Khaṭīb, Muʿādh. Leader of Eqraa at Haifa University. July 2008, at Haifa University. ———. Director of External Relations, Meezan Center for Human Rights. May 202

2010, in Meezan office, Nazareth; ­2010–­2021, telephone conversations and email communications. ———. Arabic translator and linguistic validation specialist and team leader of Oroba, and political activist. February 2021, Zoom interview. Ktīlāt, Yāqūt. Student activist in al‑Kalām student association. July 2008, Haifa University, Haifa; until 2021, several telephone conversations and email communications. Married to Manṣūr ʿAbās, in the leadership of the Southern Branch. Mustafa, Mohanad. Researcher at Eqraa’s Center for Contemporary Studies. July 2008, café, Um al‑Faḥim. ———. General Director, Mada al‑Carmel. January 2021, email communication. Rayān, Kāmil. Deputy Manager, Union of Local Authorities in Israel. July 2008, Tel Aviv. Ṣalāḥ, Ra’ed. Leader of the Northern Branch. July 2008 and November 2013, his office, Um al‑Faḥim. (In accordance with the convention of Modern Standard Arabic, Ṣalāḥ’s first name should be transliterated to Rāʾd, but because he is known by the latter form I have used that version.) Ṣarṣur, Ībrahīm. Former leader of the Southern Branch and former Member of the Knesset. July 2008, November 2010, and November 2013, his office in the Knesset, Jerusalem; 2008 and 2021, email communications. Saṭil, Najāḥ. Arbitrator for the local shari‘a court. July 2008, her office, Jaffa. Shiḥāda, Majid. Assistant to Member of the Knesset Ībrahīm Ṣarṣur. November 2010, Knesset, Jerusalem. Ṭabāja, Ḥasan. Lawyer for the Northern Branch. January 2011, London; January 2012, Um al‑Faḥim; plus phone conversations and email communications; February 2021, Zoom interview. ʿUmar, Maysāʾ. Headmistress of the School of Excellence. February 2012, Kafr Qasim. Yūsif. In charge of boycott and economic development strategies for the Northern Branch. February 2012, Community Center, Kafr Kana. Zakur, ʿAbbās. Member of the Knesset for the Southern Branch. July 2008, Knesset, Jerusalem.

Anonymous Student Interviewees july 2008 • University of Haifa: two male and two female students (Eqraa and al‑Kalām) • University of Haifa: casual conversations during observation of elections campaign to the Arab Student Council

march 2009 • Tel Aviv University: two male students (Eqraa) 203  |  List of Sources

• Hebrew University, Jerusalem: one male student (al‑Kalām) • University of Haifa: two female students (al‑Kalām)

February 2012 • University of Haifa: two male and two female students (Eqraa) • Hebrew University, Jerusalem: Three male and two female students (al‑Kalām)

Other Interviewees Abu Elasal, Sameer. Retired activist, Member of the Knesset for al‑Jabha al‑Dimuqraṭiyya lissalām walmusawā (Democratic Front for Peace and Equality, Hadash/al‑Jabha). May 2010, his home, Nazareth. ­Abu-­Shehadeh, Sami. Politician in al‑Tajamuʿ al‑Waṭanī al‑Dimuqraṭi (National Democratic Assembly, Balad/al‑Tajamuʿ). July 2008, his home, Jaffa. al‑Atawneh, Muhammaed. Associate Professor, Department of Middle Eastern Studies, Ben Gurion University. July 2008 and November 2010, Ben Gurion University, Beersheva. Ali, Nohad. Professor, Haifa University. July 2008, Haifa University. Amichai, Yehouda. Educational adviser, HILA, Israeli Committee for Equality in Education (NGO). ­2006–­2013, observations and conversations. Ba’rel, Zvi. Middle Eastern affairs analyst for Ha’aretz newspaper. November 2010, Tel Aviv. Bishara, Suhad. Lawyer at Adalah. January 2021. Zoom interview. Farah, Jafar. Director, Mossawa. November 2010, Mossawa office, Haifa. Farah, Kamāl. Anglican priest. May 2010, his home, Nazareth. Haidar, Ali. Codirector of Sikkuy, the Association for the Advancement of Equal Opportunity. May 2010, Sikkuy office, Haifa. Hanna, Attalah. Archbishop of the Greek Orthodox Church. May 2010, his office, Old City in Jerusalem. Inbari, Itamar. Arab Affairs reporter, Ma’ariv newspaper. July 2008, Jerusalem. Jabareen, Hassan. General Director of Adalah. January 2021, telephone conversation. Khaṭīb, Qasim. Journalist. May 2010, café in Jerusalem. Kohn, Orna. Lawyer at Adalah. July 2008, Haifa. Levi, Tikva. Director, HILA, Israeli Committee for Equality in Education (NGO). ­2006–­2012, observations and conversations. Makhoul, Amir. Leader of Ittijāh, the Union of Arab ­Community-­based Associations. May 2010, his office, Haifa. Mendel, Yoni (Yonatan). Public intellectual and Professor, Middle Eastern Studies, Ben Gurion University, and Director, Forum of ­Arabic-­Hebrew translators, Van Leer Institute. November 2010, Van Leer Institute, Jerusalem. Muhamad. Parent activist in HILA from Jaljūliya. November 2010, HILA offices, Tel Aviv. 204  |  List of Sources

Parent Activists. Interviews and observations during fieldwork for PhD. 2004, 2005, and 2006. HILA, Israeli Committee for Equality in Education (NGO). www.iataskforce.org/entities/view/437 Sabbah, Michel. Archbishop and Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem. May 2010, his office, Jerusalem. Shehadeh, Shehadeh. Dr. Canon. Rev. and former Vice Chairman, al‑Jabha al‑Dimuqraṭiyya lissalām walmusawā (Democratic Front for Peace and Equality, Hadash/al‑Jabha). May 2010, his home, Kafr Yāssīf. Swaid, Ḥannā. Member of Knesset for al‑Jabha al‑Dimuqraṭiyya lissalām walmusawā (Democratic Front for Peace and Equality, Hadash/al‑Jabha). November 2010, his office, Knesset, Jerusalem. Touma Suleiman, Aida. al‑Jabha al‑Dimuqraṭiyya lissalām walmusawā (Democratic Front for Peace and Equality, Hadash/al‑Jabha). May 2010, café in Akka. Zahalka, Jamal. Member of Knesset, al‑Tajamuʿ al‑Waṭanī al‑Dimuqraṭi (National Democratic Assembly, Balad/al‑Tajamuʿ). November 2010, his office, Knesset, Jerusalem. Zu’bi, Himmat. Researcher, Mada al Carmel. May 2010, Mada al‑Carmel, Haifa.

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220  |  List of Sources

Index

ʿAbās, Manṣūr, 187 ʿAbās, ʾUsāma, 63–64

ʾAḥmad Ṭībī’s al‑Ḥaraka al‑ʿArabiya Litaghiyyī. See Arab Nationalist Party

Abdel Nabi cemetery, 36, 99 Abu Daʿābis, Ḥammād (Shaykh), 2 arrest of, 47, 81–82 on Mavi Marmara, 47, 81–82 on reuniting, 82 Abu Firas, Adnan Amr, 169 ACRI. See Association for Civil Rights in Israel activism of Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, 7 in Jerusalem, 111–112 of Northern Branch, 178 of Ṣalāḥ, 71 activist definition of, 17–18 mothers as, 150–155 students as, 64, 108, 143–150 women as, 23, 139, 141–143, 161 See also student activists Adalah, 1 on discriminatory laws, 114 Inequality Report by, 13 on land loss, 103–104 on Or Commission, 74 on outlawing North Branch, 172, 174 ʿAfān, Dawūd, 149

in Israel Akka/Akko riots, 67–68, 112–113 All I Wanted to Know about Islam (Hitiv), 38 Altshuler, Shwartz, 184 al‑Āqṣā, 4 Islamization and, 136–137 models and images of, 92 perceived threat to, 95–96 Ṣalāḥ and, 94–95 Al‑Āqṣā Association, 62–63, 95–96 Caretaking of the Islamic Holy Sites by, 98 confrontations with, 101 fact-collecting by, 98–99 on Palestinian citizens in Jerusalem, 110 Rayān development of, 97–98 religious sites and, 97–103 tasks of, 93–94 Al‑Āqṣā Is in Danger, 3–4, 63, 96 Arab Democratic Party, 53, 168 Arabic language education in, 124–125, 192 as official, 127 Arab Israelis. See Palestinian citizens of Israel

221

Arabization, 129, 138 Arabic language education in, 124–125, 192 deprioritization of, 127–128 discrimination against, 125–126 Arab Nationalist Party in Israel, 53 Arab Student Committee. See Arab Student Council Arab Student Council, 63 elections for, 148, 165 first committees of, 144 Northern Branch and, 4 Arab Triangle. See Triangle Area Arafat, Yasir, 28, 60 Association for Civil Rights in Israel (ACRI) on Bedouins, 107–108 on Nation-State Law, 182 Ayubi, Nazi, 5–6

Balfour Declaration (1917), 78 Basic Law, 14 Basilica of the Annunciation attack, 158 Bdair, ʿĀdil, 82 Bedouins ACRI on, 107–108 Prawer-Begin bill and, 108–109 Benvenisti, Meron on Israeli controlled Waqf, 99–100 on Muslim cemeteries, 100–101 Bishara, Suhad, 175 blood libel, 75–76 boycott of national elections, 86–87 of settlements, 132 B’Tselem, 12, 110–111

Caretaking of the Islamic Holy Sites (Al‑Āqṣā Association), 98 cemetery Abdel Nabi, 36, 99 Maqbarat Maʾman Allāh, 102 222  | Index

Muslim, 100–102 Center for Contemporary Studies, 158 Christian Palestinians emigration of, 155 fragmentation of, 156 Islamic Movement relations with, 155–159 Islamic Movement solidarity with, 158–159 Islamic Movement tensions with, 157 Israeli state on, 157–158 Ṣarṣur on, 156–157 women, Islamic Movement and, 159–166, 191 circles of belonging, 6, 121, 191 Citizenship Law, 13 clans Islamic Movement against, 44, 193 in local government, 43–44 Coalition for Equality in Personal Status Law (the “Coalition”), 160–161 Committee for Rescue and Humanitarian Aid, 72, 112

Darwīsh, ʿAbdallah Nimr (Shaykh), 28 daʿwa and, 34 Family of Jihad and, 33–34, 46, 65 Islamic Movement founded by, 33, 191 in Israeli public life, 66 as “moderate,” 79 on nonviolence, 67–68 on Palestinian citizens in Israel, 66 pragmatic style of, 65–66 as pro-participation, 51 Ṣarṣur influenced by, 31–32 shift by, 34 on work camps, 40 daʿwa definition of, 8, 140 in Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, 84 in Islamic Movement, 34–35, 51, 134–136, 140–141, 191 in al‑Kalām, 147

moderate Islam and, 84 2007 Ruling on, 51 democracy Arab Democratic Party in, 53, 168 Democratic Front for Peace and Equality in, 42, 144, 157, 170 ethnic, 14 in Israeli state, 13–15, 56–57, 164 National Democratic Alliance in, 152 National Democratic Assembly, 144, 170, 184 Democratic Front for Peace and Equality, 42, 144, 157, 170

Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood. See Muslim Brotherhood, Egyptian elections for Arab Student Council, 148, 165 Islamic Movement popular in, 44 for local government, 15, 17, 58–59 See also national elections Eqraa, 21, 63–64, 146 ban impact on, 178–179 against Israelization, 123–124 Nakba education by, 130 as reliable, 148 research distributed by, 131 student support by, 128–129, 147 ethno-nationalism, 14–15, 56

Family of Jihad Darwīsh and, 33–34, 46, 65 Rayān and, 36 Farah, Jafar, 163 Farah, Kamāl, 159 Farrān, Muḥamad, 64 on student groups, 128, 146, 165 Fateh. See Palestinian National Liberation Movement fatwa for Northern Branch, 56 for Southern Branch, 52 223  | Index

Feiglin, Moshe, 95–96 female activist. See activist; women Forum for Jewish and Arab Mayors, 81, 163 Frij, Ṣafwān, 79–80 on Palestinization, 130–132 Future Vision, 164–165

gender issues, 161–162 goals of Islamic Movement, 22, 61–62, 92–93, 116–119, 191–192 of al‑Kalām, 146–147 Rayān on, 93 of al‑Risāla, 145–146 Ṣalāḥ on, 61–62, 118 Ṣarṣur on, 117–118 government. See democracy; elections; local government; national elections Grossman, David Darwīsh and, 40 on Islamic Movement, 38–39 Rayān endorsing of, 38 Sleeping on a Wire by, 37–41 on work camps, 39–41

Haidar, Ali, 45, 163 Haifa Declaration, 164–165 Hajj and Umra Committee, 81 Hajjar, Esheh, 183 Ḥamās Islamic Movement different than, 6–7 Islamic Movement ties to, 60–61 against national elections, 59 Northern Branch ties to, 3, 59–60, 72, 85 women in, 154 Hamdan, Khaled, 59 ḥamula. See clans Hanna, Attalah, 158–159 al‑Ḥaraka al‑Islāmiyya fi Isrāīl. See Islamic Movement in Israel

al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf, 92 Israeli sovereignty debate at, 95–96 Sharon visit to, 95 Hebrew University in Jerusalem, 63–64 See also al‑Risāla Hebron Islamic Studies Center, 31 Herzog, Isaac, 175 High Follow‑Up Committee branches in, 81 establishment of, 80 issues debated in, 162–163 Ḥijāzī, Ībrahīm, 63, 146 Hijra, 56 HILA. See Israel Committee for Equality in Education Hitiv, Avraham, 38 al‑Ḥizb al‑Dimuqraṭi al‑ʿArabī. See Arab Democratic Party homes, 106, 109 demolished in Naqab/Negev, 107–108 permits, demolitions and, 107 work camp building of, 40–41 Hroub, Khaled, 28, 59

ʾIghbāriyya, Zaky, 172–173

ILA. See Israeli Land Authority Inbari, Itamar, 75–76 Inequality Report, 13 integrationists in Islamic Movement, 84–88 Southern Branch as, 9, 48, 88, 168–169, 189, 195 Islam All I Wanted to Know about Islam (Hitiv) on, 38 daʿwa and, 84 feminism in, 154 Islamic Movement teaching of, 32, 121, 134, 137 as “moderate,” 84 as “radical,” 84 women in, 142–143 224  | Index

Islamic Movement in Israel academic publications on, 8 activism in Jerusalem, 111–112 activists and supporters definitions in, 17–18 anti-participation faction of, 55–61 Al‑Āqṣā and, 93–97 Arabization and, 124–129, 138 Bedouins and, 107–109 beginning of, 30–31 Christian Palestinian citizens relations with, 155–159 Christian Palestinians solidarity with, 158–159 Christian Palestinians tensions with, 157 circles of belonging in, 6, 121, 191 against clan politics, 44, 193 against the Coalition, 160 Committee for Rescue and Humanitarian Aid in, 72, 112 competing organizations in, 61–65 contentions, women, Christian Palestinians and, 159–166, 191 contextualization of, 4–5 criticism, cooperation, and unity talks in, 79–84 Darwīsh founding of, 33, 191 daʿwa in, 34–35, 51, 134–136, 140–141, 191 early evolution of, 32–35 educated mothers and, 150–155 Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood compared to, 7–8, 26, 35, 44–45, 57, 140, 191 electoral popularity of, 44 future of, 195–196 goals of, 22, 61–62, 92–93, 116–119, 191–192 Grossman on, 38–39 Ḥamās different than, 6–7 Ḥamās ties to, 60–61 home demolitions and, 106–109 interrelated processes of identification in, 121–124

on Islamic state in Israel, 116–118 Islamization and, 133–137, 140, 190–191 Islam taught by, 32, 121, 134, 137 Israeli state on, 15 Israeli state targeting of, 70 against Israelization, 22, 121–123, 141, 191 Jerusalem popularity of, 102–103 Jerusalem trips by, 97 joint press conference by, 82 Jordan cooperating with, 94 against Judaization of Jerusalem, 111–112 land and, 103–105 Land Day demonstrations and, 105–106, 131 as late bloomer, 26 leadership levels in, 49 leadership styles, rhetoric, and reception in, 65–79 in local government, 35–41, 86, 193 minority dilemmas in, 47–49 modernization in, 7 against Museum of Tolerance, 102 occupation leads to Islamization in, 27–32 Palestinization and, 129–132, 138 peaceful Islamic revolution by, 41–45 people and, 110–116 popularity of, 3–4 pragmatic integrationists and isolationists in, 84–88 pro-participation faction in, 51–55 publications by, 136 “radicalism” and “moderation” in, 9, 22, 48, 78–79, 84–85, 88, 90, 193–194 Rayān as mayor for, 36–37, 41 religious sites and, 97–103 reunification failure of, 82–83 Ṣalāḥ on origins of, 30–31 schools built by, 128 225  | Index

social institutions and services of, 8–9, 57 sources and methodology for, 16–21 split of, 49–50, 60, 63–65, 88–89, 193 student activists in, 64, 108, 143–150 support for, 119 two branches of, 2–3, 22, 48–49, 88–91, 193–194 vanguards of, 135 women’s roles in, 154–155, 193 work camps in, 35, 39–41, 108–109 See also Al‑Āqṣā Association; Northern Branch; Southern Branch Islamic state, 116–118 Islamism appeal of, 26 daʿwa in, 8 ideological and methodological context of, 5–10 prisoners unite through, 34 See also Islamist Palestinian nationalists Islamist Palestinian nationalists, 6 Islamization al‑Āqṣā and, 136–137 Islamic Movement and, 133–137, 140, 190–191 mosque building in, 134 occupation leading to, 27–32 speeches on, 137 Vanguards in, 135 weddings in, 136 Israel Committee for Equality in Education (HILA), 1, 113, 163–164 Israeli, Raphael, 85 Israeli Arabs. See Palestinian citizens of Israel Israeli Land Authority (ILA), 104 Israeli state Basic Law in, 14 on Christians and Palestinian Muslims, 157–158 Citizenship Law in, 13 Darwīsh in, 66 democracy in, 13–15, 56–57, 164

Israeli state (cont.) establishment of, 10, 29 ethnocracy of, 14 ethno-nationalism in, 14–15, 56 al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf sovereignty debate by, 95–96 on Islamic Movement, 15 Islamic Movement targeted by, 70 against Islamic NGOs, 72 Islamic state in, 116–118 Law of Return in, 13 Mavi Marmara boarded by, 47, 81–82, 87–88 military government in, 29 Muslim holy sites in, 62–63 Nation-State Law in, 13, 114–115, 182 non-Muslim character of, 55 Northern Branch feared by, 174 Northern Branch outlawed by, 172–181 on population transfer, 115 religious judges appointed by, 29–30, 62 on Ṣalāḥ, 70–71 schools in, 125–127, 129 system of control by, 29 against Um al‑Faḥim, 78 Waqf controlled by, 30, 62, 99–100 See also Ministry of Religious Affairs; Shin Bet Israelization Eqraa against, 123–124 historical background for, 122 Islamic Movement against, 22, 121–123, 141, 191

Jabareen, Yousef, 180 Jamāʿat al‑Ikhwān al‑Muslimīn. See Muslim Brotherhood, Egyptian Jerusalem Hebrew University in, 63–64 Islamic Movement activism in, 111–112 Islamic Movement popularity in, 102–103 Islamic Movement trips to, 97 226  | Index

Judaization of, 111–112 Muslim holy sites in, 62–63 Palestinian citizens in, 110–111 Ṣalāḥ in, 71, 75, 94–95 shared leadership of, 94 symbolism of, 4 violent attacks in, 176 Jerusalem First festival, 63 Jewish National Fund (JNF), 104 Jhafar Ibn Abli Talib, 52 jihad, 67, 84 JNF. See Jewish National Fund Joint List in April 2019 elections, 182–184 on conversion therapy, 187 as cross-ideological alliance, 168–169 elections of 2019 and 2020 and, 182–189 Gantz endorsed by, 186 internal disagreements in, 188 Knesset seats from, 3, 170 in March 2020 elections, 186 Netanyahu slandering of, 170–171, 184–185 parties in, 170 reasons behind, 167–168 reunification of, 184–185 Southern Branch in, 83, 166–171, 195 split of, 183–184 Jordan Islamic Movement cooperating with, 94 Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood, 27–28 Waqf controlled by, 94 Joubran, Salim, 76–77 Judaization, 111–112

Kafr Qasim, 120 al‑Kalām, 21, 63–64 goals of, 146–147 as reliable, 148 Katz, Yisrael, 172 KEDEM, 37–38 Khaṭīb, Aya, 181

Khaṭīb, Kamāl, 56–57 on daʿwa, 136 in High Follow‑Up Committee, 81 as uncompromising, 70 Khaṭīb, Muʿādh, 49 arrest of, 181 on ban impact, 178–179 on outlawing North Branch, 173 on violent attacks, 176–177 Khatib-Yasin, Iman, 152 agenda of, 153 voting encouraged by, 154–155 Knesset Joint List seats in, 3, 170 participation of, 54–55 United Arab List seats in, 2–3 Ktīlāt, Yāqūt, 153–154

land Adalah on, 103–104 ILA on, 104 Islamic Movement and, 103–105 loss of, 103–105 National Committee for the Protection of Land, 105–106 Rayān on, 104–105 Land Day demonstrations, 105–106, 131 Law of Return, 13 laws Basic Law, 14 Citizenship Law, 13 as discriminatory, 114–115 Law of Return, 13 Nation-State Law, 13, 114–115, 182 leadership Islamic Movement levels of, 49 in Jerusalem, 94 rhetoric, reception, Islamic Movement and, 65–79 Levi, Tikva, 113 Lieberman, Avigor on beheading Arab citizens, 167–168 227  | Index

population transfer promoted by, 62, 115 local government clans in, 43–44 elections for, 15, 17, 58–59 fragmentation and factionalism in, 42–43 Islamic Movement in, 35–41, 86, 193 Northern Branch in, 15, 17, 58–59 Palestinian citizens of Israel and, 41–42, 58 in Um al‑Faḥim, 44–45, 58–59 Lustick, Ian on Israeli system of control, 29 on Palestinian citizens of Israel, 11

Ma’da. See Arab Democratic Party Makhoul, Amir, 165 Mandate Palestine, 27, 41 village politics in, 43 Maqbarat Maʾman Allāh, 102 Mavi Marmara Israeli military boarding of, 47, 81–82 Zoabi on, 87–88 May, Theresa, 77 Ministry of Religious Affairs Hebron Islamic Studies Center established by, 31 religious judges appointed by, 29–30, 62 students encouraged by, 31 minority dilemmas of, 47–49 instant, 11 women as, 150 moderate Islam, 84 mosques building of, 134 work camp maintenance of, 40–41 Mossawa, 113, 163 Museum of Tolerance, 102

Muslim Brotherhood, Egyptian, 5 daʿwa in, 84 Islamic Movement compared to, 7–8, 26, 35, 44–45, 57, 140, 191 Islamic social institutions of, 8, 44, 128 Mandate period of, 27 as “moderate,” 84, 86 nonviolent activism of, 7 outlawing of, 176 Muslim Brotherhood, Jordanian, 27–28 Muslim Brotherhood, Palestinian branches of, 33 formation of, 27 PLO and, 28 social institution building by, 28 strategies of, 33–34 See also Family of Jihad Muslim holy sites Al‑Āqṣā Association on, 98 in Israeli state, 62–63 See also Al‑Āqṣā; religious sites Mustafa, Mohanad, 26 muʿaskarāt. See work camps

Nakba, 5, 69, 133 Eqraa educating about, 130 school educating about, 130–131 Tel Aviv as symbol for, 36 Naqab/Negev Bedouins in, 107–108 homes demolished in, 107–108 work camps in, 108–109 Nasasra, Mansour, 60 National Committee for the Protection of Land, 105–106 National Democratic Alliance, 152 National Democratic Assembly, 144, 170, 184 national elections in April 2019, 182–184 boycotting of, 86–87, 182–183 Ḥamās against, 59 in March 2020, 186 228  | Index

Southern Branch in, 15–16, 90–91 of 2019 and 2020, 182–189 2007 Ruling on, 51–52, 59 voting encouraged for, 154–155 Nation-State Law, 13 critics of, 182 details of, 114–115 Nazareth 2000, 157–158 Netanyahu, Benjamin, 115 Joint List slandered by, 170–171, 184–185 on outlawing Northern Branch, 172 public dissatisfaction with, 176 West Bank annex announced by, 186–187 Northern Branch activism of, 178 as anti-participation faction, 55–61, 86, 189 Al‑Āqṣā Is in Danger festival by, 63 Arab Student Council and, 4 ban impact on, 178–179 in committees, 81 fatwas for, 56 Ḥamās ties to, 3, 59–60, 72, 85 as isolationist, 9, 48–49, 88 Israeli state fear of, 174 in local government, 15, 17, 58–59 organizational structure of, 17, 83 outlawing of, 151, 172–181, 189, 195 post-ban activities of, 180–181 as “radical,” 9, 22, 48, 78–79, 84, 87–88, 90, 194 settlements boycotted by, 132 Shin Bet criticism of, 174 See also Eqraa; Islamic Movement in Israel; Ṣalāḥ, Ra’ed (Shaykh)

Or Commission, 72 criticism of, 74–75 on Ṣalāḥ, 73–74 warning letters from, 176 Oslo Accords, 60

Palestinian citizens of Israel B’Tselem report on, 12, 110–111 as Christians, 155–159 clans in, 43–44 as demographic threat, 62, 115 de-religionization of, 133 discriminatory laws against, 114–115 fear in, 113–114 home demolition of, 106–109 Inequality Report on, 13 as instant minority, 11 in Jerusalem, 110–111 Land Day demonstrations by, 105–106, 131 land loss of, 103–105 local government important to, 41–42, 58 national elections boycotted by, 86–87, 182–183 NGO-ization of, 164–165 origin of, 10–11 against outlawing Northern Branch, 173 Palestinization of, 122 religious judges for, 29–30, 133 sociopolitical context of, 10–16, 190–191 system of control on, 29 United Nations Committee on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights on, 11–12 See also Christian Palestinians Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), 28, 60 Palestinian Muslim Brotherhood. See Muslim Brotherhood, Palestinian Palestinian National Liberation Movement (Fateh), 33 Palestinization, 123 Frij on, 130–132 Islamic Movement and, 129–132, 138 of Palestinian citizens of Israel, 122 Paris terror attack, 177 Peled, Yoav, 31 on Or Commission, 74–75 Peleg, Ilan, 14–15 229  | Index

PLO. See Palestinian Liberation Organization population transfer, 62, 115 Prawer-Begin bill, 108–109 psychometric exam, 126

al‑Qāʾima al‑ʿarabiyya al‑Muwaḥada. See United Arab List al‑Qāima al‑Mushtaraka. See Joint List al‑Qrīnāwī, Tālā, 109

Ra’am. See United Arab List Rayān, Kāmil, 22, 27 on al‑Āqṣā, 96–97 Al‑Āqṣā Association developed by, 97–98 on fact-collecting, 99 Family of Jihad and, 36 on goals, 93 Grossman endorsed by, 38 as Islamic Movement mayor, 36–37, 41 KEDEM and, 37–38 on Knesset participation, 54–55 on land, 104–105 on Palestinian citizens in Jerusalem, 111 Shin Bet harassment of, 37 on Southern Branch as centrist, 171 in Tel Aviv, 36 in ULAI, 25, 35 on work camps, 39–40 See also Sleeping on a Wire (Grossman) Rayan, Sobhi, 116 religious courts, 160–161 religious judges, 133 appointment of, 29–30, 62 shortage of, 29 religious sites Abdel Nabi, 36, 99 Islamic Movement and, 97–103 Maqbarat Maʾman Allāh, 102 Muslim cemeteries as, 100–102 See also Al‑Āqṣā Association; Muslim holy sites

Report on International Religious Freedom (2009), 101 reunification of Islamic Movement failure, 82–83 of Joint List, 184–185 al‑Risāla, 63–64 basic principles of, 145 goals of, 145–146 Rouhana, Nadim N. on democracy in Israel, 14–15 on Israelization, 122–123 Rubinstein, Elyakim, 76

Sabbah, Michel, 159

Ṣalāḥ, Ra’ed (Shaykh), 1, 2, 16, 194

accusations against, 72–74, 76 activism of, 71 al‑Āqṣā and, 94–95 arrest of, 47, 68, 71, 75–78, 81–82, 179–180, 195 on Balfour Declaration (1917), 78 blood libel referenced by, 75–76 on branch differences, 61 convictions of, 3, 72 Darwīsh influence on, 31–32 on goals, 61–62, 118 Hanna friendship with, 158–159 interviews with, 19, 139 on Islamic Movement beginnings, 30–31 Israeli press on, 70–71 on Israel targeting Islamic Movement, 70 in Jerusalem, 71, 75, 94–95 on Mavi Marmara, 47, 81–82 as mayor of Um al‑Faḥim, 44–45, 68, 86 on Museum of Tolerance, 102 Or Commission on, 73–74 on Oslo Accords, 60 against political participation, 55–56 on population transfer, 115 as “radical,” 68, 71, 78–79, 87 230  | Index

as “Shaykh of al‑Āqṣā,” 94–95 split announced by, 50 on state fearing him, 180 support for, 77–78 2016 sentencing of, 76–77 on two-state solution, 69 as uncompromising, 68, 70 United Kingdom banning of, 77–78 on Vanguards, 135 See also Northern Branch Sannad, 139–140, 161 Ṣarṣur, Ībrahīm (Shaykh), 16, 28 on Christians and Muslims in Israel, 156–157 on cross-denominational politics, 169 Darwīsh influence on, 31–32 on goals, 117–118 interviews with, 19 on Islamic Movement split, 50 on Israelization, 123 on Joint List, 184 on Knesset participation, 54–55 on Land Day demonstrations, 106 on 1989 as peaceful Islamic Revolution, 41 on political cooperation, 53–54 on political objectives, 168 as pragmatic, 66 on religious identity, 187–188 on transferism, 115–116 Saṭil, Najāḥ background of, 141–142 on women in Islam, 142–143 on women’s organizations, 142 school Arabic language education in, 124–125, 192 Islamic Movement building of, 128 in Israeli state, 125–127, 129 Jewish curriculum in, 129–130 Nakba education in, 130–131 psychometric exam in, 126 secularism in, 133–134 security concerns in, 126–127

sharīʿa, 55 Sharon, Ariel, 95 Shas, 174 shaykh, 26, 32, 45, 133 early use of, 16–17 Shehadeh, Shehadeh, 105–106 Shin Bet, 37, 174 Shūra, 145, 147 Shūrā Council, 49–50 Sikkuy, 45, 163 Sleeping on a Wire (Grossman), 37 on Islamic Movement, 38–39 on work camps, 39–41 Smooha, Sammy on ethnic democracy of Israel, 14 on Israelization, 121–122 social institutions of Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, 8, 44, 128 of Islamic Movement, 8–9, 57 of Palestinian Muslim Brotherhood, 28 Sons of the Village, 86–87 Southern Branch as centrist, 171 in committees, 81 corruption accusations against, 171 elections of 2019 and 2020 and, 182–189 fatwa for, 52 gender issues and, 161–162 as integrationist, 9, 48, 88, 168–169, 189, 195 Jerusalem First festival by, 63 in Joint List, 83, 166–171, 195 as “moderate,” 9, 22, 48, 79, 84, 86, 88, 90, 194 in national elections, 15–16, 90–91 organizational structure of, 17, 82–83 parties allied with, 53–54 as pro-participation faction, 51–55 representatives for, 2–3 2007 Ruling by, 51–52, 59 ulama support for, 52 Um al‑Faḥim run by, 44–45 231  | Index

women candidates for, 152 See also Abu Daʿābis, Ḥammād (Shaykh); Darwīsh, ʿAbdallah Nimr (Shaykh); Islamic Movement in Israel; al‑Kalām; Ṣarṣur, Ībrahīm (Shaykh) student activists, 64, 108, 145–147 Democratic Front for Peace and Equality and, 144 disagreements between, 165–166 joining reasons for, 149–150 National Democratic Assembly and, 144 in student council elections, 148 support for, 144, 192–193 women as, 143–144 See also Arab Student Council; Eqraa; al‑Kalām; al‑Risāl students Eqraa support for, 128–129, 147 groups for, 63–64, 146, 165 Ministry of Religious Affairs encouragement for, 31 psychometric exam for, 126 supporter, definition of, 18 Swaid, Ḥannā, 162 Ṭabāja, Ḥasan, 19, 173

on High Follow‑Up Committee, 81 on local elections, 58–59 on organizational structure, 83 Tel Aviv Abdel Nabi cemetery in, 36 Nakba symbolized by, 36 Rayān in, 36 as White City, 36 Temple Mount. See al‑Ḥaram al‑Sharīf Touma Sulieman, Aida, 152 on branches, 161–162 on Islamic women activists, 161 on Nation-State Law, 182 on religious courts, 160–161 on women’s rights, 160

Triangle Area, 16, 32–33, 48 triangular approach, 18 Trump, Donald, 186–187 2007 Ruling about Participation in the Israeli Parliamentary Elections, 51–52, 59

ʿŪda, ʾAyman, 173–174 ULAI. See Union of Local Authorities in Israel Um al‑Faḥim Al‑Āqṣā Is in Danger festival in, 63 Israeli authorities against, 78 local government in, 44–45, 58–59 Ṣalāḥ as mayor of, 44–45, 68, 86 Ūmma Wasaṭiyya, 169 Union of Local Authorities in Israel (ULAI), 25, 35 United Arab List, 53, 168 Knesset seats from, 2–3 United Nations Committee on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, 11–12 Ūsrat al‑Jihād. See Family of Jihad

women as activists, 23, 139, 141–143, 161 Christian Palestinians, Islamic Movement and, 159–166, 191 as educated mothers, 150–155 employment challenges of, 150–151 in Ḥamās, 154 in Islam, 142–143 as Islamic feminists, 154 Islamic Movement roles of, 154–155, 193 organizations of, 142 in politics, 151–153 rights of, 160–161 as Southern Branch candidates, 152 as student activists, 143–144 as trapped minority, 150 Women Against Violence (WAV), 160 work camps, 35 community center built by, 39–40 housing building and mosque maintenance by, 40–41 in Naqab/Negev, 108–109 streets built by, 39

Yiftachel, Oren, 14 Yom Kippur, 67–68 Waqf Israeli control of, 30, 62, 99–100 Jordan control of, 94 War of 1948. See Nakba WAV. See Women Against Violence West Bank annex, 186–187 Wickham, Carrie Rosefsky, 8, 135

232  | Index

Zahalka, Jamal, 162–163 zakāat, 35 Zakur, ʿAbbās, 32, 65 Zoabi, Hanin, 87–88, 152 Zu’bi, Himmat, 164–165