Tag Archives: Palestine

Maps and Metaphors: Boundaries, Labyrinths, Spiders’ Webs, Lairs, Warrens

The Gaza War is not for territory, but is explicitly about erasing sovereignty. And much of the war, if fought above ground, is aiming at what lies underground, hidden from sight, and not on maps–even if we imagine that we might be able to map the damage, disaster, refugee flows and loss of life as well as destruction of structures across the Gaza Strip in ways that are truly impossible to process. This data overload, or information overload, responds to a proliferated media coverage of the disastrous war, but is also difficult to relate to the terror of the unmapped underground network of tunnels in Gaza, and the ways that the tunnel networks have been a reason for the terrible escalation of aerial attacks that have created such humanitarian catastrophe across Gaza and the Gaza Strip. As much as a war for territory, in a traditional sense, the Gaza War is almost one of purification–not purification in a religious familiar from the Middle East of the Middle Ages, but of the possibility of purifying the region to ensure Israeli national security. 

The tunnel network that evolved from an infrastructure of smuggling to a means of tactical defense has become a target that is quite elusive: if the tunnel network beneath he Gaza Strip was underestimated quite dramatically at but about 400 kilometers after October 7–reflecting boasts of an Iranian general “Hamas has built more than four hundred kilometers of tunnels in the northern section of the Gaza Strip,” the estimated underground passages became a basis to underestimate the scale or intensity of its destruction. Indeed, the shock at the scale and technical quality of the underground network has been slowly grasped as far more difficult to target, as its size has since February greatly expanded to seven hundred or even eight hundred kilometers across the entire Gaza Strip. The tunnel network provides both a significant military and tactical challenge,–but one unable to be easily targeted or eliminated, even by existing mapping tools, flooding with seawater, the engagement of robots with facial recognition, or the location of hidden networks and their destruction.

The expanse of tunnels, which Israeli intelligence for all its capacities seems to have misjudged, has become a target that has evaded mapping or location, turning the destruction of tunnel networks into a game of whack-a-mole, even with the prioritization of tunnel detection and warfare tools. Meanwhile, hostages held underground are unallocated, leaving the Israeli army far more “blind” in its engagement with Hamas. The intelligence of the network has been repeatedly minimized by metaphors as it is animalized as a warren, a lair, a spiderweb, or a labyrinth, as if to suggest its animal like nature, promised to be dissmantled as a structure of evil–an inhumane warren, more than a site of human resistance. The engineering of the network that has been able to be reduced in metaphors has expanded as an achievement of engineering–“beyond anything a modern military has ever faced,” per the chair of Urban Warfare Studies, at West Point’s Modern War Institute, making the conflict far more than academic–and a focus of global tactical attention of the shifting terrain of future combat. And, meanwhile, it has only grown, as we have understood the existence of longer tunnels, fifty meters underground, as if underestimating the tools of engineering the warren, and the evolution of underground engineering that has allowed Hamas to dig in for the long war, making any lightning strikes impossible and only endlessly destructive. The destruction has been, as a game of Rope-a-Dope, infuriating Israeli Defense Forces, who seek to target an evanescent enemy; the Israeli Army tries to materialize its existence as a set of targets–even as the Israeli Army has issued repeated maps, in hopes to rationalize their expanding ground operations across an increasingly bombarded and devastated Gaza Strip, locating tunnel complexes where the hostages were once held.

The Gaza War was explained in no uncertain terms as the destruction of this hidden network in which the terrorists who planned the attacks of October 7 could be extirpated from the region of the Gaza Strip, as if independent from the humanitarian needs of inhabitants of the Gaza Strip, in a sort inexorable logic that leads to no apologies, but exists as an imperative that is the only narrative frame for bringing the war to its conclusion. “Dismantling Hamas’s underground strongholds in the north, center, and south is a significant step in dismantling Hamas, and it takes time,” we were clearly warned by Israeli spokesman Rear Admiral Daniel Hagari, in late December, 2023–aware of the intensity of bombing of hidden “nerve centers” of Hamas, but unaware of the visible brutality wreaked by the tremendous–and perhaps truly incommensurate–destruction above the ground. If Israel has destroyed many “cross-border” attack tunnels that extended some two hundred meters into Israeli territory both in 2008, 2012, and in 2018, the extent of tunnels that were celebrated in Al Jazeera back in 2014 for their ability to store weapons and shield Hamas leaders from air attacks as well as link the Gaza Strip to Egypt–and long designed a site of resistance to Israeli sovereignty.

IDF demolishes Gaza attack tunnel that penetrated 200 meters into Israel |  The Times of Israel

Destruction of Tunnel Network Dug into Israeli Territory/October, 2018

For as the network has grown as the governance of the Gaza Strip has shifted, expanding as a form of hidden sovereignty able to endure attacks and escape Israeli vigilance and guarding of borders of the enclave. Although “mapping tunnels in Gaza right now is not going to happen,” the tunnels have become the elusive map of power in the Gaza Strip, a “big reveal” that has become the focus of the war, revealing the terror of porous borders that were echoed by the discovery of five Hezbollah tunnels on the Lebanon-Israeli border in 2018, in a military operation, that seems to seek to frustrate the Israeli Defense Forces’ charge to “defend Israel’s borders, since the formation of the Israeli Border Police in 1948, immediately after the foundation of the state of Israel–a Border Police who have long worn the Green Beret, signifying their status and crucial military role, symbolizing the “Green Line” drawn on the early maps of the Armistice of the first Arab-Israeli Wars of 1949, the pre-1967 border that have been taken as contravened by illegal sites of construction. If the Border Police have long imagined “peaceful borders,” the nearly 20,000 structures built along the border of the Green Line were viewed as a “ticking bomb” in the West Bank after October 7 invasion.

Years before the invasion, fears were raised by the scale of apparent bloom of illegal projects of Palestinian construction in Judea and Samaria, assembled by a combination of GIS mapping and aerial photography, as well as field work, that tracks the huge increase in “illegal” construction in 2022 in areas of Israeli jurisdiction by 80%–some 5535 new structures being built in 2022, an 80% increase over the construction in the same area in 2021, that are far from makeshift shacks.

Construction of “Illegal” Palestinian Housing in 2022/Regavim

The construction of what has been deemed strategically placed projects–and can be shown as such in maps of the region above–seem designed to hem in the settlements of Israelis around the so-called “Area C” of the Oslo Accords, if they might also be seen as overflowing the narrow areas allotted to Palestinians. But the huge construction project suggests an influx of cash, that might be seen as analogous to the creation of a costly network of tunnels by Hezbollah on the Lebanon border and in the Gaza Strip, as ways of challenging the stability of borders, and indeed the security of borders that has long been central to Israeli identity, and has become an accentuated topic of public concern in recent yeas–and least because off increased rocket attacks in Israeli territory.

In recent years, the ramping up of cross-border vulnerability of unforeseen proportions has placed the nation on tenterhooks that rendered most major Israeli cities vulnerable from the Gaza Strip with the rockets of Islamic Jihad capable to reach targets in Israel one hundred and fifty miles away, and escalated fears of the increasing proximity of the Gaza Strip to Israeli cities–long before the raid into Israeli territory concretized the fears of cross-border vulnerability in nightmarish ways.

Rocket Ranges of Hamas from Gaza Strip, 2022/Jewish Virtual Library

The same alarmist catalogue of the weapons that were posed at Israel’s cities by a range of rockets from the international market–Qassam, Katyusha, GRAD, and Iranian M-302, M-75, and Fajr-5–were suddenly aimed by surrogates at ranges to reach m-and Israeli populations in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem–were mapped, of course, by the IDF itself, who are tasked to guard Israel’s borders. as an armory poised at most all of Israel’s cities, far from the Gaza Strip, a decade ago. But we had the illusion, or geographic imaginary, for a decade, that those dwelling near the Gaza Strip were as protected as anyone else in the nation, and did not suffer any special degree of vulnerability.

The Deadly Arsenal of Hamas,Israel Defense Force, 2014

map returned to tabloids and newspapers in Israel after October 7, questioning the ability to allow such intensive proximity was haunting the Middle East. The increasing density of the projects of technically “illegal” housing was not a proxy or basis for cross-border attacks, or for firing rockets. But the worry of destabilizing borders by occupying such “seam zones” on borders grew, as they seemed to reveal a long-term strategy after the invasion of October 7, not even twenty-five kilometers from Gaza, and was worried in the days after October 7. The fears Israelis would be hemmed in would be potentially explosive if Israeli military presence in Area C was withdrawn, as in Gaza Strip from 2005; any Peace Talks, it was feared, that would sanction a Palestinian State would have to lead to recognition of their legality and potentially set the stage for a similarly catastrophic invasion of borders, as the rhetoric of an imperative of securitization grew.

Construction of “Illegal” Palestinian Housing in 2022/Regavim

They deep fears that the invasion of October into Israeli territory triggered and made palpable fears of a violation of Israeli boundaries in ways not previously imagined–and could only imagine after October 7. The fears that such an invasion could be facilitated by an existent tunnel network in the Gaza Strip the have defined the “goals” and prerogatives of the Israeli army to destroy, even if their danger is contested and not readily seen. And if we project such tunnels as a “satellite map,” we are preserving the false illusion that we even know their scale, or can “map” the network as part of the landscape–even if they are indeed part of the geopolitical landscape of the Middle East.

For the underground Islamic Jihad tunnels, lying far beneath the ground, and not able to be “seen” or mapped in any actual manner, the tunnel network remains largely figurative, spectral, and assembled in partially from old surveys from previous invasions of the Israeli Defense Forces, offering a poor proxy for targeting, but providing a terrible image of a hidden enemy, unseen and impossible to measure. As the earth that as extracted to construct the tunnels was dumped offshore into the Mediterranean, making it difficult to quantify the scale of earth excavated by tunnel-makers, or the scale of a network that has offered a basis for the Palestinian terrorists in the Strip to survive aerial attack, and indeed to keep the civilian “hostages” taken from Israeli territory under concealment–even as the “tunnel network” is also widely mapped in international news.

The web of Gaza tunnels complicating Israel's possible ground invasion

If we are shown “Hamas’ Secret Tunnel Network,” “Hamas’ Tunnel System,” or “Gaza’s Underground Labyrinth” in respectable news sources, and “Hamas’ Huge Underground Network” in somewhat salacious terms of more popular news sources, the secret spaces of these underground caverns have a truly Alice in Wonderland-like quality of an underground storehouses, or hidden hideouts, worthy of evil comic book characters, and apartments, tied to shafts, elevators, and other concealed openings, existing under the street plans of the city, as a “city beneath a city,” and even imagined as a future terrain for military combat, hand-to-hand wars, or the future zone of conflict.

1. The tunnel network is a remapping of the boundaries that are formally imposed around Gaza Strip. Although it is odd to see them as a form of counter-mapping against the claims to sovereignty in Israel’s boundaries, they are just that. For the tunnel network, if begun as an economic necessity, has been expanded and exploited to as a basis to deny the limits formally imposed by the 1950 Armistice Line, which has perhaps provided the basis for the energetic chants heard in public spaces across the Western world, to Free, Fee Palestine, that invest a coherence in the currently occupied territories as an enslaved region that has been left at the mercy of a “terrorist state.”

The Armistice Line concluded after 1948 Arab-Israeli Wars did not invest territoriality in a region–

–but recorded a status quo of sorts later preserved in the Peace Accords and 1955 Armistice Agreements at the height of the Cold War, a stalemate of sorts between global powers, to be sure, understood and enshrined in maps along the original reference points of a historic Palestine Grid–

1950 Armistice Line and 1955 situation of Gaza, Mapped within Palestine Grid

–whose construction was, to be sure, the legacy of a colonial or quasi-colonial movement, drafted by the English on the model of their own OS maps as a way of preserving the spatial organization of archeological ruins, but that have created a framework to what is misconstrued as a religious war.

The provisional line that was drafted at the foundation of the State of Israel, and provided the orignary boundaries of the state that was guarded by the IDF, as the persevered the territory that was newly mapped in terms of a UTM projection that extended, as the timeless liturgy of the Prayer for the Israeli Defense Forces suggests, and increasingly patrolled by IDF forces in order to contain threats to the security of Israelis living near the region, as well as the increasing number of settlers near the border. The mapping of the expanded boundaries of the Gaza Strip to deny access to the outside world or to Egyptian neighbors is nothing less than a classic micro-macro point of tension in global geopolitics–“over our land and the cities of our God, from the border of the Lebanon to the desert of Egypt, and from the Great Sea unto the approach of the Aravah, on the land, in the air, and on the ground” in existential terms–even if the 1994 construction of a barrier between Gaza Strip and Israel was stated to be provisional, unlike the current claim to have created an “Iron Wall” that offers no clear basis for future discussion–and indeed seeks to force future negotiations from a position of power.

United Nations Palestine Map Showing Armistice Agreements between Israel& Lebanon, Syria, Jordan & Egypt, 1949-50

The current construction of a heavily fortified “Iron Wall” has provided the current crisis in which the framing of Israel as an occupying power has morphed into charging it as a terrorist state–a reflection of the very terms that Israel’s government charges Hamas, and given the events of October 7, seems to offer ample justification for doing so. The effective boundaries, however, provide the clearest basis for containing terrorist incursions has however not served the state.

The “Green” Line has been an internationally recognized boundary of the Gaza Strip, defended by the Israeli Defenses Forces as such, never intended to be designed or rendered as a border of sovereignty, but has been construed as a political or territorial boundary in local and global geopolitics. If drawn independently from claims to rights of Palestinians, a question kicked down the road to an unspecified date for future resolution by the global consensus, increased fortification defense of a militarized barrier that maps the Green Line as an actual border–

–that hinges on the perimeter fence. If it is design to limit global traffic it is unavoidably now treated as a border that demands protection to protect “our land and the cities of Our God,” as the prayer written in 1967 has it, that have perhaps enshrined the dating of the time-stamped “1967 borders” or “pre-1967 borders” as the basis for a “demilitarized” future, a fact that might be datable in terms of history of globalization–hearkening back to a time when the United States was an engine for almost half the global GDP, before the United States abandoned the gold standard, and before the waning of American global economic dominance of the postwar–the era in which the Universal Transverse Mercator was adopted as a model of a smooth global surface.

The network of tunnels that were dug under imagined border revealed its first porousness in 2005, with withdrawal of Israelis and Israeli troops from the Gaza enclave, and the expansion of a tunnel system that Israel had tried to contain. Increasingly seen as a threat to Israel’s sovereignty, the network has become a way of testing the borders that have emerged in an enclave once in 1955 tied to Israel by roads; the, contesting the so-called “Green Line” that divided Arab from Israeli sovereignty since 1950. If it is a sticking point in Palestinian peace accords, it is the stubborn site of the only survival of the old “Green Line,” the last line standing, that was set out in the 1949 Peace Accords, as a new “underground reality” emerged, not on most national maps, proved a way to erode–quite literally–a map seen as engraved in stone, contesting the original “demarcation line” seen and equated as an “original sin” of the “Palestinian Question.” While territories beyond the Green Line were not incorporated into Israeli sovereignty, the growth of robust tunnels along the contested “Philadelphi Route” running from the Gaza Strip to Egypt, was perhaps the original robust tunnel to smuggle weapons to evade Israeli surveillance, underneath the “security belt” Israel claims as a defensible border, as the tunnels appear to confirm an actual terrorist threat.

Hamas built tunnels to smuggle weapons under the Philadelphi Route from Egypt to the Gaza Strip. In recent years it has also dug attack tunnels from Gaza into Israel.

Robust Underground Tunnel of the Philadelphi Route from Egypt to the Gaza Strip

The “belt” is not a national border, or an international border, but has become defined as a “security border” analogous to the status of the Jordan Valley, by tactical terms first defined by the General who oversaw the victory in the 1967 War, critical to Israeli security–if not for its territorial identity. The bifurcation of the security border and national boundary at Gaza has grown as the boundary of the Gaza Strip become guarded as a border of Israeli territoriality, I argue in an earlier blog post, shifting understanding of Israel’s boundaries and their guarding. Guarding the Gaza “perimeter” is prioritized to securitize the borders of Israel for Jewish settlers who moved from the region beyond its walls, as new communities expanded beyond that perimeter, the tunnel systems have grown as an increasingly robust form of hidden governance, hidden from surveillance.

 If the network of tunnels first built to smuggle weapons in from Egypt in the 1990s before Israeli troops left, it expanded in depth and sophistication as Hamas gained control over the enclave and as it grew economically isolated, both as a network for importing goods and cross-border attack, extending five times below the depth of tunnels dug at the start of the new millennium, across a network claimed to extend over 500 km by 2021, according to propaganda videos of Yahya Sinwar, the length of the New York Subway, able to reach to Gaza City.  If the tunnels dug four to ten meters below ground seemed unstable beneath fifteen feet, the deeper tunnels are harder to sense by radar or to hurt by explosive force, as well as to detect from above ground–some over ten times as deep, if reports of 200 feet deep tunnel structures is true.  While the earlier smuggling tunnels of c. 2010 were closer to the surface and far more rudimentary in their framework and structural support–

Palestinian Entering Reconstructed Bombed Smuggling Tunnel from Egypt, near Raffa, 2012/Patrick Bay, AFP

–the robust defensive and offensive functions that evolved of tunnel networks demand more careful discrimination in our maps, and are too often suggested as primitive networks imagined as able to be removed from the Gaza Strip–rather than forms of its current governance. The expertise in tunnel engineering by lego-like concrete blocks, ventilation shafts and soil compacters helped expand the engineering of an underground network tied to Hamas, and increasingly hoped by Israel to be able to be removed form the region, the offensive and defensive network has gained increased resilience. And as Israel’s right-wing government linked itself to the defense of adjacent communities near the wall, and tunnels targeting of Israeli forces or settlements near the border grew in response to a vision of sovereignty that exclusively defined the state for Jewish citizens-settlements mostly made for those Israelis who left the Gaza Strip in 2005, now lived in by a new generation of settlers, familiar with demanding protections for living outside a region composed of refugees before the current refugee crisis created by Israel’s invasion.

Israeli Settlements in the Coastal Regions of the “Gaza Strip” before 2005

Unlike the territory of Gaza or the Gaza Strip that is shown in surface maps of houses, buildings, roads and communities, the underground network of tunnels that extend across the Gaza Strip were long both the de facto network of Hamas sovereignty and the targets of Israeli invasion and air raids. The mapping of the tunnel network has shifted from a target of attack to its re-mapping embodying identification of the tunnel network as the underground nefarious form of negative-sovereignty by which Hamas has defined its presence in the Gaza Strip.  The metaphorical mapping of the tunnel network has served to embody an image of the “negative governance” of Gaza, and metaphorically mapped to delegitimize the authority of Hamas as a responsible governing entity.

2. The networks of underground tunnels that grew up to support Gaza’s literally “underground” economy as its borders were closed by Israeli Defense Forces in 2005 became, in 2012 and 2014, the targets of invasion and destruction–as airplanes targeted five hundred tunnels, some of hundred kilometers, as one that running from the South to Gaza City, by bombardment and ground operations–destroying 140 smuggling tunnels that evaded the Gaza blockade, including 66 tunnels used to target Israeli forces. The engineering of tunnels expanded to deeper and broader underground corridors to ferry cars of militants and reinforced by iron, with ventilation for larger mobilization, the network emerged in global consciousness as a new terrain of combat, and a new battleground lying far beneath the ground. Even if North Gaza has, as Israel insists, ceased to be under the sovereignty of Hamas from January 2024, the tunnel network dug beneath the territory has provided the firmest illustration of the survival and resilience of Hamas governance in Gaza.

Israeli Soliders Patrolling Newly Discovered Tunnel at Erez Crossing, December 15 2023/Amir Cohen

Tunnel networks in the Gaza Strip have been long targeted as threats to Israeli sovereignty. From their beginning as cross-border passages designed to import weapons from Egypt into the Gaza Strip, the commercial network that Hamas encouraged since taking charge of the enclave in 2007 for incursion. The networks of underground tunnels that grew up to support Gaza’s literally “underground” economy as its borders were closed by Israeli Defense Forces in 2005 became, in 2012 and 2014, the targets of invasion and destruction–as airplanes targeted five hundred tunnels, some of hundred kilometers, by bombardment and ground operations–to cut the enclave off from external contact, destroying the excavation of 140 smuggling tunnels that evaded the Gaza blockade, including 66 tunnels used to target Israeli forces.

Yet if the underground network that has however grown as a dense network of resistance to Israel’s denial of the sovereign presence Hamas has created deep in the underground tunnels of the Gaza Strip, a difference not shown in many maps of tunnel routes–which show tunnels collectively, akin to surface roads of OSM maps, without distinguishing either the origins, depth, or status as a hidden infrastructure, equipped with electricity, internet access, and communications, that long served as a regional tax franchise. The elision of the different tunnels, and their different quality, flattens the history of the network, and indeeds elide its central importance in Gaza’s governance, by portraying it solely as a target of attack.

Gaza Strip in Maps/BBC/NPR

While these maps are entirely the product of Israeli Defense Forces, they flatten the emergence of the tunnel network, and flatten the entire process of constructing, funding, and using the network of underground tunnels demonized as a target of military attack. Since the rise of cross-border tunnels that have been sanctioned as targeting Israeli forces, contesting the sovereignty of Israeli forces beyond the Green Line, the tunnel network was targeted of a vision of sovereignty that was tied to the invasion of Israel, and increasingly responded to by defined the state of Israel as exclusively for Jewish citizens.

But as the tunnel network has become a target of Israeli attack, it has assumed figural status by cartographic logic both to undermine the symbolic identity of Gaza Strip. It has served to demonize the sovereign claims of Palestinians in the region, and an image of the negative sovereignty by which Hamas has defined its place in the Gaza Strip. To flush that presence from the enclave, or to attempt to remake the enclave separately from the enclave that was attempted to be isolated by the Israeli army as a threat–by a 60 km fence, Egyptian built fence, and patrolled harbor–

–whose destruction has been suffered by the Palestinians increasingly trapped between a map and a hard place indeed, as the specter of tunnel networks has come in a grotesque macabre of Grand Guignol to take precedence over their lives, a spectacle of destruction of homes, intent to define attacks on the neighborhoods of Gaza City by targeting attacks on an elusive underground network of tunnels independent of their habitation or of the cost to civilian lives.

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Gaza, Again–and Again

The territoriality of the Gaza Strip continues to fascinate for its levels of history and to confound for the grounds of its destruction–as destruction seems to erase any claims for actual sovereignty. For while the claims of territoriality and sovereignty are deeply intertwined, the Gaza Strip being occupied by Israel but being destroyed for its claims to territorial autonomy–the Gaza Strip has become the focus of global frustration and a case study of the disproportionate military response. If the invasion of October 7 seemed a case study of the entry of cross-border munitions into an enclave that seemed isolated by naval and ground blockades, the unprecedented scale of airborne attacks seeking to dismantle the organizational networks of terrorist groups who launched the bloody invasion has provoked new questions of mapping–mapping the scale of destruction, the ethical limits of destruction of infrastructure and historical buildings of sacred import, and indeed the Palestinian landscape by which Gaza was defined as a legacy of ancient Palestine of Canaanites and on the southern plains of the Mediterranean, long renowned, paradoxically, for its ability to resist invasion and assault.

If the boundaries of the Gaza Strip were defined as a Palestinian enclave, it is not clear if it will ever be part of a Palestinian state, and the place of Gaza in the Israeli nation has come to a head as a crisis of sovereignty, and we try to grasp the scale of buildings across the Strip have been destroyed in attempts to destroy and eradicate the terrorist network who invaded settler communities so brutally, relying on satellite data as news coverage is silenced on the ground, as much as we can tell from Decentralizerd Damage Mapping Group, hoping to secure a sense of objectivity and transparency in a region that is riddled with national biases and national news. 

Buildings Damaged or Destroyed per Satellite, October 5 to November 22, 2023

By January 5, the destruction of buildings in North Gaza had risen to 70-80%, or up to 40,000 buildings, and 70–80% of the Central Gaza Strip, making one wonder what sort of sovereignty can exist over it, or how the extent of its infrastructure’s destructino has obliterated its territoriality.

What sovereignty exists over the territory that is at risk of being one of the major humanitarian crises of recent years? The crisis was pressingly stated by the murderous if not barbaric invasion of October 7 that ended the peace Israel has established at great cost in the so-called “Gaza envelope.” And they are at a head in large part due to the asymmetrical relations that have been created by the boundary, constructed at great expense within the state of Israel, at its perimeter–the very area where the incursion of terrorist groups, armed with that led to the ground invasion with grenade launchers, assault rifles, and light machine guns as they entered the Palestinian enclave.

If Gaza is a remainder of Palestinian settlement, amputated from Israel, but a sort of ghetto resulting from the expulsion of Palestinians new state of Israel, it is a twin of the foundation of Israel. Its lack of sovereignty is a negative reflection of Israel’s sovereignty, and has shrunk as the Israeli nation has been defined for the Jewish nation, rather than for Palestinian presence, and has refused to incorporate the future of a Palestinian state. Instead, the Gaza Strip has been set apart, and physically bounded, to illustrate Israel’s longstanding control of this border, around not only the Gaza Strip but the geographic creation of the so-called “Gaza envelope”–the securitized perimeter of Gaza, or עוטף עזה, premised on an absence of sovereignty in relation to Israel.

If Arab-Israeli Wars were admittedly central to the emergence of Israel, it is the denial of political status to its residents–ostensibly still members of the Israeli state, if one can believe it–who are denied sovereign status. The denial of Arab sovereignty is crucial to the Gaza War, which risks foreclosing a hoped for “two-state solution” it may consign to the dustbin of alternative history, but cordons off the perimeter of the state. The layers of the data visualization that cannot suggest the boldness or bloodiness of an invasion that led to the “peace” of Israeli civilian settlers being openly violated, violently raped, killed, or mutilated in what seems a truly orgiastic violence that left 1,200 civilians dead, was more than a push-back against containment within a perimeter. 

It was a denial of sovereign rights to possession, and indeed a slow tightening of a grip that refused the importation of gas, water, goods, or indeed medicines into the Gaza “Strip,” a name whose belittling of territory and territoriality is almost itself an insult to the sacred nature of the mosques and shrines that exist on its historical land–only six shrines of a former remaining standing after the pummeling of the Gaza enclave with aerial bombardments of 2016, and over two hundred archeological sites of public memory–ancient churches, mosques, Byzantine architectural monuments–have been destroyed by late December, 2023, per the Gaza Media Office and Middle East Report; by the start of 2024, the Anthedon of Palestine, Byzantine church in Jabalia, shrine of Al-Qadir in the central Gaza Strip, as well as the Greek church of St. Porphyrius have been destroyed. Is this a desire of revenge for the desecration of Jewish synagogues in Gaza City, structures set to fire or exploded by Palestinian residents of Gaza after the October 2005 withdrawal of Jewish settlers left the structures of some thirty synagogues in Gaza City intact that had been built during the occupation period, after removing their ritual books, scrolls, and sacred materials? Arguing that these were not holy structures, but empty buildings without any use, Palestinian Authority decided the assertion of any damage to the buildings would violate Jewish law was derided as a provocation, but their bulldozing was attacked as a “barbaric act by people who have no respect for sacred site,” rather than a reminder of the occupation. The blurred line that led Palestinians to reject their conversion to mosques–a proposal of a Bethlehem rabbi–touched a nerve, as it was feared that doing so would lead to the return of Jews to pray at the al-Aqsa mosque.

The apparent intent of destroying Gaza’s infrastructure has destroyed its public memory as collateral damage. Although raids have revealed a seaside bomb manufacturing site of Islamic Jihad confirm the extent to which Hamas and other groups have used mosques and hospitals as sites for storing weapons and concealing weapons manufacturing sites–the logic of destroying mosques seems a destruction of public memory and preparation that the Israeli Defense Forces have argued since 2014 has only escalated fears inclusion of the Gaza Strip within Israel’s sovereignty, and a need to secure and expand Gaza’s own borders–a longtime delegitimization of the very ability of Hamas or of Palestinians to be protectors of Gaza’s immense cultural and religious patrimony: ”For Hamas, nothing is sacred,” not even the preservation of their historical heritage and legacy.

The invasion of the Gaza Strip has advanced a blanket denial of sovereignty to its residents. If Israel has controlled Gaza as an edge of the state, monitoring since the withdrawal of Israeli troops from the region in 2005, almost twenty years ago, its airspace and marine ports, as well as entry and exit to the region, it has pointedly denied the health or well-being of the enclave’s inhabitants. The provocative concerted violation of the boundary barrier around Gaza Strip was intended as a shock attack that was itself a shock, that was even more violent a shock with the murders and hostages that groups allegedly tied to Hamas took, was not only a loss of life. And the scale of that invasion, marked in a ghostly manner in this map of the Israeli Defense Forces invasion of the Gaza Strip’s autonomy as an enclave of Palestinian identity in this intelligence map form Islamic World News, as the blue arrows of Israel’s armed forces entered four crossing points on the Gaza Strip perimeter.

The shocking realization the “envelope”–a military construct, but also a psychic shield–had been so violently pierced, towers of surveillance hit by unmanned drones and the boundary of safety that created over almost twenty years around the Gaza Strip broken, created a tectonic disruption of the strategy of containment from which the Israeli state will be psychically recovering for years, and has offered the unimaginable fictions that terrorist cells peddled to the hostages the they took of Israel’s actual destruction as a state.

Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu rather darkly jingoistically proclaimed the Gaza War “a second war of Independence” as a rallying cry to unite the nation, telling the nation after massive aerial attacks began that the air offensive was an offensive “only at the beginning.” The elimination of an enemy that had made mosques, hospitals, and private residences as military installations–and insisting, as the platform for his party has declared its role in protecting Israeli sovereignty “Between the Sea and the Jordan,” as if to rehabilitate hard-line scriptural geography of protecting all Israeli settlements in nominally Palestinian territory. In piercing the barrier around Gaza in over thirty sites, the raids overwhelmed border technologies, the beneficiaries of a growing arsenal of cross-border attacks, by no means limited to Hamas or to the Middle East,–even if they are compellingly mapped as a local attack.

But the attacks can only be seen in global terms–both in the arrival of arms to Hamas ferried across underground tunnels, and long stored as they accumulated as a hidden arsenal of attack, and the fuel for a cataclysmic struggle that the al Aqsa Flood promoted itself to Palestinians, as a campaign of vengeance and global destruction that would overwhelm Israel and Jerusalem at an apocalyptic scale. The concerted cross-border attack used a new range of weapons–unmanned arial vehicles (UAV’s) or kamikaze explosive drones to undermine the very technology of monitoring the border that the Israeli government constructed as an impossible border, a structure repeatedly praised as an “iron wall” against terorism that had fostered some quiescence by its high tech appearance.

The conflation of the 2.3 million Palestinians that the IDF had blockaded into Gaza Strip with independence seemed perverse, but the cordoning off of Gaza was tied to Israel’s birth, and it was undertaking a massive ground war against “the enemy”–Hamas denied Israel’s right to exist on the map from its founding charter, committed to Israel’s removal from maps of the Middle East. The extreme violence of the cross-border attack that left 1,400 dead, was enabled, this post argues, by the new nature of cross-border war–the technologies of border warfare that were used to clear any Israeli claims to the land from its 1988 Charter, including to construct a border. The construction of the preventive barrier seemed to amputate Gaza from the well-being of the nation, filling the Likud party’s new Charter rebuffing the Palestinian demands for a recognition of their presence on the map of the Middle East by openly resolving that “Between the sea and the Jordan there will only be Israeli sovereignty.”

This reiteration of a scriptural map rehabilitates hard-line Zionist beliefs to refuse accommodation, imagining Israeli boundaries apart from a Palestine presence.  In this geographic imaginary, the separate sovereignty of Gaza and the West Bank do not even merit mapping, but could only be permitted behind an actually impractical and costly architecture of boundary walls.

For perhaps the most terrifying aspects of the Gaza War is the juxtaposition of technologies–the barbarity of the murders and the military technologies of death. Those technologies had pierced the perimeter that Israeli Defense Forces had so carefully built, and entered the state of Israel that had been nominally and notionally securitized, a bulwark in the desert. And as much as the death of so many civilians and military shocked, disturbed, enraged and maddened, the nature of the attack that overwhelmed border technologies was a sort of wake-up call that also warned Israelis, in critical ways, of the range of armaments that had indeed entered the Gaza Strip. As the search of the Gaza Strip has confirmed, with its range of anti-tank missiles, the tanks that guard the perimeter of the Gaza Strip are not invincible bulwarks against the Al-Aqsa Flood or the deluge of armed Palestinians; the image of a full-scale destruction of the Israeli city of Jerusalem was less an actual target, perhaps, of rockets, but a motivating cry to urge border-crossers to cross into Israel, armed to the teeth, to unleash a level of violence more unnatural as Hobbesian state of nature.

Their deep success, if it can be called that, in penetrating the Israeli psyche, both by taking hostages and violently killing civilians, in ways somehow were not monitored or guarded against, that a range of weapons had arrived in the small enclave through its tunnel network–bombs, missiles, long-range rockets, and the particularly disturbing innovative cheap tools of attack drones, that allowed the incursion into Israeli territory by the new dotted red frontier of Palestinian advances into the land that seemed “settled” by kibbutz. And it called into question the project of kibbutzim that had devolved or evolved into tools of what might be called frontier settlement.

The desperate coloration of Palestinian presence in the Gaza Strip by bright green to denote presence and resistance of Palestinians in the enclave was mapped onto its topography, in a decisive act of cartographic settlement and naturalization. How did the narrow territory of the Gaza strip, which lacks sovereign status, become conflated with independence of a sovereign state? T

he “envelope” or perimeter around the Gaza Strip was after all a cartographic creation of Israel’s independence, a consequence of the Palestinian Nakba, or removal from Israel. The presence of Gaza at the intersection of tectonic plates moving apart have shaped its borders more than scriptural precedent or sacred archeology. Gaza has become an “edge,” however, of geopolitical contestation, idriven by longstanding and building historical tensions is concretized by the architecture of the border wall that have bound the Gaza Strip. For the border has been engineered both as an architecture constraining movement and its architecture of regional sovereignty.

The perimeter technology has been sealed, as a walled-off region. Cut off from electricity, energy (paralyzing hospitals, desalination plants, and business), Gaza is perhaps one of the only regions of the world that is now offline, and off any grid, internet access cut as well as access to ocean fishing, as mobile and IP cell towers are felled, allowing one of the most densely habited areas of the world to become more isolated from the world, as internet traffic flatlined for 2.2 million, before guiding to a halt by late October 27 to make it one of the least active in the world, more like Antarctica or the African desert, rather than one of the most densely populated areas on earth.

The internet shut-downs appeared part of the war of aggression not only as a news black-out, but to cut off Gaza from the world by cutting off its internet connectivity, suddenly ranked “poor,” per the nonprofit Internet Society, a forced impoverishment as punitive as its aerial bombardment. The scale of damage or destruction of over a third of buildings in Northern Gaza suggest an even deeper flatlining of civic life. This is a register, a record, of what life behind the border wall, that may well make use think more about what it meant to stand before the border wall.

Even as Israeli troops attacked the enclave from which Hamas, whose military wing staged many rocket attacks and bombings in Israeli territory since the 1990s, the lack of any sovereignty suggests a troubling para-territoriality of Gaza. As Gaza, a historic region, was reduced to an enclave without sovereign authority, it stands apart from Israel’s nominally pluralistic society. What was once seen as a frontier–and indeed was cast as a frontier of settlement as Israelis settled the southern edge of Gaza–has become monitored by airspace and at sea mapped from its confines at the edge of the state. This edge became a gaping hole in the architecture of border defense.

The audacious border-crossing from Gaza demands attention not as a frontier, as Hamas seemed showed the world that it could cross the sophisticated boundary forces worked so hard to secure, as they dismantled the sophisticated equipment at the border and bases closest to it, shocking the Israeli border control apparatus forced to repair observation towers and to rebuild fences to secure the compromised network of seniors, radar and cameras that make up the border zone.

Snipers, drones, bulldozers: Gaza border guards recount Hamas attack

The surprise attack on Israel were shocking breaches by which the military wing of Gaza affirmed a porous relation to Israel, and defined by brazen violent crossings of its “border,” suddenly not a frontier, but a region that could be openly crossed. Although Gaza is nominally governed by Cogat, the responsible organ of Israel’s military authority that governs Palestinian occupied territories–it exists as only occupied as a frontier, existed for Israel entirely as an edge that was secured by the state, across which any movement of people, goods, energy, water and equipment are restricted: and with 97% of the enclave’s water undrinkable, rolling energy black-outs, and restriction of wifi communication, the marginality of the enclave is becoming normalized more than its presence. When Israel’s new war cabinet declared common ground around a determination to “wipe Hamas off the earth’s map,” they were adamantly responding to the commitment of Hamas “to wipe out Israel” to be sure–“we won’t discuss recognizing Israel, only wiping it out” said Yahya Sinwar.

The global scale of this rhetoric of cartographic cancellation has grown as the fortification of the border has grown, under-written by interests of national security, as Gaza has been supported by Islamic states–and a new range of cross-border missiles and drones, mostly tied to Iran, if with ties to weapons merchants trafficking in arms and unmanned aerial vehicles made in South Korea, and UAV’s made in Tunisia as well as Russia. For the Gaza War has become a global war, rooted in new means of cross-border wars. We cannot reduce the war to a conflict between Israel and the Izz al-Din al-Qassam Brigades. As much as this conflict has been mapped, rooted in the network of tunnels beneath hospitals and refugee camps bombarded by Israeli Defense Forces, to do so ignores the rise of a new nature of cross-border warfare that inspired the conflict, allowed it, and has increased its intensity. The rise of-a rhetoric of cartographic obliteration is rooted in the global triumph of Islam, to be sure, but a new inflection point of geopolitical tensions. (So much is revealed in the distasteful image of a snake, whose skin is of the color scheme an Israeli flag, that wraps itself jealously around the globe, a concretization of a trope of jewish globalism embedded in anti-semitism in the fabricated Protocols of the Elders of Zion, posing as a revelation of secret Jewish rites: the tired tops of Judaism as a globe-devouring snake bent on global conquest was familiar:

Protocols of Elders of Zion (London, 1978)

The Protocols were a forgery, but had unsurprisingly won a second life in the Middle East, the alleged plans for global conquest adopted to attack the attempts to settle what were mapped as Palestinian lands. The false tract that revealed secret agendas was endorsed by Gamal Nasser and Anwar el Sadat of Egypt, and has been adopted from Iranian Revolutionaries to Hamas, as well as Islamic Jihad and Palestinian National Authority who have included it in their own school syllabi–it was even sold on iTunes in 2012! The charge of global domination was any easy and dramatic visual gloss of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, and constraints around the Gaza Strip, rather grotesquely repurposed to center a globe encircling snake around its actual geographic location.

Detail of Recent Anti-Israeli Reiteration of Stock Anti-Semitic Trope Distributed Online

The photoshopping is a crude map of the illegality of Israel’s pretensions to include the deserts of the Sinai–or Egypt–in its territorial claims. It is uses a rhetoric of globalism to magnify the affront of a securitized border. But the built boundary perhaps promises to be a blockage of any future movement toward negotiation, as my previous post argued. There is a literal sense in which it is true: for the Hamas invasion of October 7 existed off the map of Israeli sensors, by wiping surveillance systems off the border map that IDF had patrolled, to sew massive disorientation across the nation by disabling security systems.

The Israeli government had for too long removed Hamas from its map of military intel, believing the group to be safely sequestered and confined behind a secure wall, not needing to be mapped. The divergent realities on alternate sides of the border wall. This is no isolated cross-border attack, but a sign of the danger of future attacks: as Hamas officials, even after the bombardment of the Gaza Strip, have predicted future attacks will continue “again and again until Israel is annihilated,” this is a new gambit of cross-border war.

Both, of course, had relinquished hopes of negotiation, and devised strategies to remove the need for ever attending to their neighbors, but that is another story than this post can tackle. To reduce the conflict to a polarity–as if the military organization locked in eternal warfare with Israel, crying, with Samson, “Lord God, remember me, give me strength one more final time to punish these Philistines for tearing out my eyes!” even risking their own death–bears down too closely on the geography of the Gaza Strip, and ignoring the power of what it means to stand before the Gaza Strip’s boundary,–not as a frontier, but as a different reality, that made residents of Gaza so deeply committed to the rhetoric of annihilation, and the liberatory nature of rebordering, an al-Aqsa Flood able to achieve the inundation of Israel’s sovereignty in territory “from the river to the sea,” annihilating Israel’s increasing claims to full sovereignty from the Jordan to the Mediterranean.

For the dual bifurcated realities that emerged on each side of the barrier were difficult to sustain. Gaza is not only cordoned off from prosperity, but a region which faces over 40% unemployment–now approaching 50%–and levels of depression and economic stagnation unimaginable in any western country or any developed nation. For many of those with jobs, the onerous task of crossing the very few open border gates to enter the parallel universe that exists nearby, in Israel, that in fact transcends the ability of some to even communicate to their families: they have visited Jerusalem or other cities, have even seen the historic al-Aqsa mosque after which the invasion of the occupying power was named and consciously intended to evoke; their experience of the border is not often in our maps, but they evoke an imagined voyage to Jerusalem in their war of liberation, freeing al-Aqsa and indeed fomenting an uprising called the “al-Aqsa flood,” xعملية طوفان الأقصى, with good reason–conjuring a biblical flood that would rise from the outpost on the Mediterranean, one able to wipe away the stark differences in the divergent realities in which many live as a motivational charge. The cleansing image of the “flood” narrative to return the region to a primordial chaos, able to remake reality for the righteous, and wipe away the violent nature of a painful chastisement that would not “leave upon the land many dweller from among the non-believers” who will be drowned because of their wrongs was an illustration of the need to fear the greatness of Allah in the Quran, remaking the global geography by opening up expansive pathways.

This was far more more than an energizing rallying cry. The opening up of “wide pathways” in a “wide expanse” was a reaction to the absence of connection between Palestinian lands, the enclaves that were once imagined to be linked by underground tunnels, nourished in the labyrinthine structures of a tunnel network that expanded in Gaza built from when Hamas took control of the Gaza Strip in 2007, outside of the surveillance of Israeli government, some two hundred feet underground, eluding GPS surveillance systems, a site of resistance whose network stretches for miles beneath not only refugee camps, mosques and hospitals but contains rooms, chambers, and passage-ways hostages are held and arms stored. If the apparent carpet bombing of Gaza City was reflected that the groundplan of IDF military offensives in Shijaiya or Beit Lahiya to search for the captured soldier Galid Shalit taken as a hostage in operations that Prime Minister Netanyahu called “necessary to the security of the Israeli nation.” The military’s prioritizing of destroying the tunnel network was reflected in how military spokesperson Eytan Buchman a decade ago explained “all of Gaza is an underground city, and the amount of infrastructure Hamas built up over the years is immense– . . . tunnels, extended bunkers, weapons storage facilities, even within urban areas.”

The massive underground tunnel network–here shown only by those halls that wer mapped by the Israeli Defense Forces–was used as sit a network of tunnels of resistance as the dream of connecting Palestinian enclaves has receded with time as were first proposed to manage the possibility of removed self-governance that Israel could “live with”–including access to two ports–

The Gaza-West Bank Tunnel in the Trump “Plan, “Future State of Palestine” (January, 2020)

–the idea of a “tunnel” not under Gaza, ut linking Gaza to the West Bank, was on the table as a proposal for the “future state of Palestine” even if this waggishly accused as being a “hollow state.”

The network of tunnels had been the staging area for attacks on border cities in the past, including Kerem Shalom, the border crossing where Palestinian militants attacked, in the course of the raid seizing soldier Shalit a hostage to abduct to the underground labyrinth in the Gaza Strip. The warren is known as the “Metro” in acknowledgement of the underdeveloped and unmodernized state of Gaza –Shalit was held for four years, to the surprise of Israelis if never of his own family. This is the underground network where the current hostages are probably been secured, and has become a showpiece of engineering and a feat of resistance in itself, extending despite the built boundaries in cleared boded lines that promised an infrastructure for future cross-border attacks.

The Metro became a showpiece, but a site for staging nationalism in summer camps, in the poor state of the Gaza Strip, promoting her heroic ideals of Hamas militants for independence, and fostering the dreams of tranport beyond bored walls of an ever-expanding underground network.

Israel Palestinians Hamas Tunnels

Denoting the narrow underground tunnels as a ‘Metro’ is not only in jest: a decade ago, the artist Muhammad Abu Sal, then 35, decided that the tunnel network demanded to be highlighted as an economic infrastructure of its own for smuggling weapons, goods, and people; as an underground critical part of its economy, he promoted network not as a secret warren but an form of modernity that might in the future provide a network connected Gaza to the West Bank by analogy to Paris! (The ferrying of kalashnikovs were not the original intent of tunnels that linked the Strip to Egypt, border, began as a way to import a variety of necessities that were absent from stores in Gaza’s after the imposition of a 2007 blockade on the enclave, from food to cars to even petroleum fuels.)

The bright and bouncy iconographic modernity of a subway modeled after that in Abu Dhabi, Paris, London, or New York that was staged as a theater piece for the Festival of Cultural Resistance three years ago in 2020 painted in bright bubble-gum colors (If Abu Sal was promoted as a “penetrating artist,” by The Freedom Theater, the network that is now getting newsplay as a net of resistance was an economic necessity, but that were mapped a decade ago as a hidden “world of weapons tunnels penetrating into Israel, creating the possibility of a mega-attack” that demanded to be destroyed for the safety of the Israeli state.

Paolo Pellegrin (2011)

This was by no means created as a network for military use alone, but of survival: many worked in the tunnel, hauling goods to the residents of the enclave who suffered from the blockade Israel had imposed from 2007, hauling goods from Egypt in its confines, pausing only occasionally for a cigarette break deep underground.

Paolo Pellerin (2011)

The network of tunnels is but a part of the cross-border movement that has transformed the Gaza Strip from a border zone to a network that stretches underground. Even as Gaza is cordoned off from the internet, is tied to a larger world by nations who have offered new tools of cross-border violence. The effectiveness of the tools by which the October 7, 2023 invasion is proof of technologies to break border defenses, in a variety of emergent tools of cross-border warfare of which we would be better to take note.

Such new strategic technologies were not only tactical. They ensured the parallel world of the prosperity beyond the border wall, in the land of their occupiers, suddenly was able to access by dismantling the very surveillance apparatus of the border Israel’s government had so confidently invested, secure in the conviction it would not eve have to negotiate with Palestinians,–just confine them by an ever more clever security wall. Massive state investment in technologies of confinement have been felt by residents, as they have cut into farm lands of Gaza’s residents by the expansion of a “No-Go Zone” around its perimeter, to contain risk,–

–pierced as “kamikaze” aerial drone warfare offered a low-cost technology to pierce its confines piercing the border at multiple sites simultaneously on October 7 at daybreak.

A detailed look at how Hamas secretly crossed into Israel - ABC News

Google Earth

The border technologies of risk-management had nourished a false sense of security. But investing in outdated tools of securitization may have led to a nightmarish return of violence in the single greatest day of Israelis killed, despite all that investment in the secure tools of guarding the Gaza boundary. The invasion of those paragliders landing in kibbutzim after they flew across the border suggested the ease of transit once the observation posts were removed, and border surveillance lifted. It reflected as if in a rear view mirror the incursions of 1956 on refugee camps in Gaza, where Israeli troops led by Ariel Sharon, later commander of the Southern Forces, as commander of a paratroopers’ brigade, staged revenge attacks refugee camps–

–an area whose settlement Sharon encouraged, before unilaterally withdrawing troops in 2005 to comply nominally with a “Road Map for Peace”–without relaxing vigilant naval control of ports or of its airspace. The vision of Gaza as a border state, and a frontier, close to the heart of a previous geography of the Middle East from far earlier Arab-Israeli wars, was encouraged by Prime Minister Netanyahu, and have haunted the sense of Gaza as a frontier on which to focus public attention, as a region over which Israel has critical natural self-interest and a right to protect itself. The “Gaza envelope” was however liberalized as regularly spaced observation towers along the border created a monitored boundary, and which Palestinian observation posts monitored by Hamas took note of all movements of the Israeli Defense Forces by land, air and sea, offering a ground surveillance that the October 7 invasion clearly took advantage of. Palestinian military experts argued that such field posts “may be considered defensive and not offensive since . . . Hamas cannot cover the entire border,” leading Israeli forces to target observation stations along the north-south border, the questions of gaps of surveillance on the border either from the sandy hills of Hamas observation posts or observation towers provided a tactical basis for military confrontation.

So much was confirmed by the cross-border attacks of October 7 in more gruesome detail than could ever be imagined, even by the most hard-line defense spokespeople. While many maps registered the shocking incursion of terrorists–communicating the violence of the even that left 1,200 dead–both soldiers and residents of the new frontier of kibbutzim, clustered around Gaza’s border barrier, we may forget how these pioneers who are also acting as colonial farmers in a more explicit policy of taking back the land up to the wall of the Gaza Strip. If hostages were vulnerable children, concert-goers, and elderly who happened to be in the kibbutzim, these outposts are not friendly neighbors to Gaza. These are victims whose names are recited, and rightly added to the prayers, but were spread about Gaza’s barrier, where they seemed most safe. The attacks that were staged in the invasion followed maps to the settlements–

CBSTV

–the incursion of the barrier and breaching of the barrier wall played on American television news, perhaps, in an echo of the movement across other walls–but cannot be mapped disinterestedly, or at a remove from the transnational ties that have redefined the geopolitical plate-tectonics of the region.

Weren’t the settlers who were encouraged to settle just beyond the boundary perimeter, as part of a new “frontier state” of Israel, promised a false sense of security by the securitized barrier wall? We may do well to focus our attention on the experience of those 18,000 Gaza residents who work in Israel, or possess work permits–many now trying in vain to contact their families within the region–and the experience of Gaza’s residents as they were on the border, facing the opportunity to travel to work. And to consider their travel past these villages, that were mapped as targets by the invaders who arrived in paraglider or motorcycles at their destinations, believing that they were achieving a remapping of the Middle East long mapped to their disadvantage.

If all crises are overshadowed by the climate crisis today, the top driver of human suffering, the absence of water in Gaza, were some 97% of water is not drinkable, given a highly contaminated Coastal Aquifer so combined with salt and untreated sewage to be unfit for human consumption, even before the bombing destroyed much of the plumbing infrastructure in urban areas that have provided the main conduits for drinking water to arrive in the enclave that lacks a water grid, the closing of electricity to the region has shuttered desalination plants and local wells. The water available to the residents of these nearby kibbutz, where the farming of the dry desert soils offered a basis for viable agriculture, were a stark contrast of inhumanity, making no geographic or environmental sense, as the engineering of desert farming by tools of drip irrigation–pioneered in the southern Negev, now using recycled wastewater from Tel Aviv!–as well as permaculture, in organic farms removed from the local water table. The isolation of Gaza from drinking water or functional farms has created a water crisis with deep health risk.

The borderline war between Israel and “Gaza” was fought less on borders than hinges on exactly these forms of trans-nationality. The haunting nature of the border as a divide assumed disproportionate presence for Palestinians that cannot be reduced to metaphorical terms, but were able to frame a new world view. The trans-nationality extends to migrant workers who found a new life to work beyond the border walls as service workers in Israel, and glimpsed a sense of another life,–or heard it recounted on iPhone or mobiles from household members who did. Trans-border movement in a global labor market found something of an echo in the tunnels of the underground “metro”–a hidden map, as it were, removed from surveillance and Israeli observers–that connected the terrorists of Gaza to a market for international arms, ferried, one suspects, from North Korea, whose arms were used in Syria and Lebanon, as well as Tunisia, Iran, and Egypt.

These were the arms that overwhelmed the barriers. Though we consider unprepared IDF forces, distracted, perhaps, by the micro-conflicts of West Bank settlers, and maybe some of low morale, but who were looking at the screens that they were provided in boundary monitors,–not at other military intelligence. For the disabling by sniper fire and explosive drones that arrived at the boundary barrier at the early hour of 6:30 am in the morning were an early alarm. IDF guarding the barrier were disoriented by the surprise attack, as gunmen quickly took out observation posts and cameras on the boundary itself and leaving security forces disoriented and disheartened at a systems failure or failure of military intelligence. While the shock of the attack reverberated globally, the unmanned aerial attacks belonged to a new range of arms increasingly stockpiled across the Middle East beneath Gaza City and in the tunnels that constitute the “metro” not only among its military groups, but to the wider arms trade, and the suppliers of new tools of cross-border warfare.

The tunnels passing underneath the very barrier that Israeli contractors built around Gaza after withdrawing troops may have brought a new variety of weapons to the Israel-Gaza frontier, against which the current system of security had no guide. The underground tunnel network that was crudely extended from Gaza’s friable soil far into Israeli territory–or from the occupied territory into the national territory-. The walls became grounds for investing in the critical year 2016 in a border fence, a perimeter state-of-the-art and “smart”–equipped with security cameras, CCTV, and monitors. Yet the persistent trans-nationality of the region was not mapped, as new network of tunnels linked Hamas to arms ferried from Iran, North Korea, and Egypt– conduits of the very border-bursting shoulder-fired F-7 rocket-propelled grenades that are used against armored vehicles, or the thirty-five “al-Zawari” kamikaze drones–named after the Tunisian engineer Mohammad Zouari, killed by Mossad agents in 2021 for designing UAVs–took out many observation towers. The arms that flowed into Libya, as much as from Egypt or Tunisia, may include shipments of Turkish weapons that have flooded Qatar, Tunisia, and Ukraine since 2020.

The cross-border technologies that developed in the very years we assumed the world gone silent before COVID-19, and Turkish Bayraktar drones flooded the Middle East to further Turkish interests, a shuteye also flooded the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict and helped Azerbaijan’s battlefield success, even in the face of a large army of Armenian tanks. And the drones designed by the Tunisian engineer who had learned techniques of drone-making in Iraq suggest a new level of combat, and “borderless war,” once tied to the counter-terrorism techniques of targeted killings, that were–perhaps terrifyingly–critical to the cross-border attack on the border barrier.

These cross-border weapons allowed military stability to be destabilized with disorienting rapidity, upsetting the balance of guarded frontiers, creating gaping holes of security in American-made defenses, or developing extended-range missiles able to target energy infrastructure and oil refineries in an aerial war. In an eery echo of the barrage of V1 and V2 rockets the Nazi air force fired on gyroscopic guidance systems to target populated areas of England in World War II, the GPS-equipped drones may have helped to hatch a project of targeting the observation towers that were the teeth of Gaza’s boundary barrier. The very sort of explosive “kamikaze” Shahed-136 drones of Iranian make whose small fuel pods, as the V2 rockets, directed their explosive warheads at targets in Kiev to swarm defenses with efficacy in 2022 seem, indeed, to have been tested out in an earlier border war. And if the Iranian drones whose 80 lb warheads exploded on contact were described as the “poor man’s cruise missile” by their manufacturers had been used in attacks on American forces in Iraq and Syria, as well as the UAE; swarms of drones fired up by the fifty horsepower engines of the Iranian drones are increasingly been used to eliminate expensive surveillance and anti-aircraft systems, puncturing border surveillance, as it were, opening borders that were heavily fortified. (A recent drone attack on American forces stationed in the Ain al Assad base in Iraq were hit by a suicide drone in the midst of the bombardment of Gaza, claimed fired by the Islamic Resistance in Iraq, and five separate attacks on American bases in northern Iraq were reported, as fears of the war spilling over borders grew.). The use of “loitering munitions” and drones by Houthi fighting in Saudi Arabia have absorbed the large supply of rockets inherited from a Yemeni stockpile of unmanned aerial vehicles, perhaps tied to Iranian weapons technologies.

The result is already shifting the front of war to prolonged missile, drone, and rocket attacks. Technological developments in aerial warfare date from around 2018, often to win withdrawal from occupied or disputed territories in the Middle East, as in Yemen, if they have never been launched against so securitized a border as in October 7 shock attack of the IDF’s observation towers. From 2019 the use of high-precision aerial drones developed new fronts of Houthi cross-border aerial warfare as tools of direct military engagement of expanded military targets, readily including civilian targets that were off the military map, including the targeting of oil facilities, airports, increasingly targeted since 2018, and ending only as a UN truce was brokered in April 2022. Yet Houthis and Salih helped open a new frontier in aerial cross-border warfare, which the shock invasion of Israel’s highly regarded border frontier must be contextualized in–and perhaps also seen as a new proof of concept in cross-border warfare, making a truce all the more important.

This suggests that the Gaza War is the latest front in an expanse of unmanned aerial vehicles–a new era of remotely operated drones programmed in “autonomous mode” that require little human control. The use of swarms of drones have been used extensively in conflicts in the Middle East, including the wars in Yemen and Syria, before they swarmed the surveillance stations of the Gaza boundary wall. The regional spread of such drones is less openly mapped,

But the centrality of such unmanned drones able to focus and take out border surveillance stations may have been neglected in most news reports. The focus on the violation of Gaza’s borders and the overwhelming of the billion-dollar barrier war cannot reveal the danger that the firing of such a swarm of robot drones poses to Israeli sovereignty outside an international arms traffic. The rockets that began the raid that the Hamas al-Qassam Brigades began started not with the DIY “Qassam” rocket of nitrogen-rich fertilizer and sugar,–if the image was worthy of scrappy resistance against an occupier–

PALESTINIAN-GAZA-ISRAEL-CONFLICT-HAMAS

–but the use of drones did show scorn for the proud surveillance towers, disabled by the density consisting of 5,000 unmanned rockets that arrived in an interval of twenty minutes. Their spatial distribution overwhelmed the technical tracking abilities of the Iron Dome, confusing the smart wall that would supposedly withstand any advance. If Samson in Gaza seemed to no longer be the legendary warrior who “ran on embattled armies clad in Iron,/and weaponless himself,/Made arms ridiculous” as he scorned “proud arms and warlike tools,” the army of aerial drones that initiated the unexpected cross-border attack overwhelmed the geospatial intelligence and sensors with which the border barrier was equipped, allowing the advance of men who were armed to the teeth.

In the biblical story of Judges, the rage of a blinded Samson, reduced of his powers of martial strength, is seen as “in slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds/o’re worn and soil’d,” seemed far from that image of the Samson who “weaponless himself,/Made Arms ridiculous” before he, in his rage, lifted the doors of Gaza, carried away the gates of the city, “unarm’d” but summoning his strength as his hair grew that again after he lay in reflection in prison, blinded and distraught as he reflected gloomily on his fate, is remembered as lifting the city gates of Gaza in his rage, bars an all.

Samson carrieth away the Gates of the City, designed by Francois Verdier (1698)

Eyeless Samson is remembered as un superhuman rage, lifting the doors of Gaza by his hands alone, before he carried them off in the dead of night by bare hands to Hebron by superhuman strength.

But this is not a biblical story, even if it happened in a place of the same name. The firing of an army of aerial drones seems to emulate a home-made “shock and awe” that Hamas was sold as a working plan became a proof of concept that impressed the world. The critical use of kamikaze drones to disable the security towers, communication relays, and border surveillance system before the ground assault incapacitatingly “blinded” Israel to the attack, enabling the brutal strike on kibbutzim by a functional mapping of surveillance tools, as much as of the territory that was attacked: the territory existed as a surveillance apparatus, in other words, as a territory, but left the territory vulnerable. The barrage of weapons used did not rely, as in previous years, on the unguided Chinese-designed, Syrian- made rocket, a major element of the Palestinian rocket arsenal that Fatah, Hamas, and Islamic Jihad have often used in attacks on cities near Jerusalem and Haifa–and are commemorated on this mural in Gaza, before which schoolchildren are shown passing–

Children Passing Mural Celebrating Capture of Israeli Soldier Galid Shalit/December 11, 2021/Said Khatib/AFP

–or that Hamas has even invited kids to take selfies before a public display of the missiles themselves in the aftermath of increased Israeli-Palestinian violence in July, 2023.

Mahmoud Issa/SOPA Images

Much attention has been devoted, and alarms raised, about the cross-border and transnational ties of Hamas to military intelligence services of Hezbollah in Lebanon, long before the rise of cross-border skirmishes on the Lebanon border began during the Gaza War.

Yet the routes of intelligence and the uses of older missiles were less central to this conflict. And this time, in other words, we were all reminded the territory was shown to be only a map–increasingly rendered vulnerable as its surveillance structures were disabled by explosive drones.

The place of Gaza on the map is critical, but we need more than arrows to define its space, and to use weapons to erase the boundary barriers that were built by Israel to contain its presence on the map. For the strip has existed in reflection of the guarding of its borders, and the “metro” of tunnels that have let it be linked to the west have become turbo-charged, of course, from the barrage of rockets to the troops who followed, ignited by the giddy vertigo of crossing the border fence that may be missing form our maps as we map the conflict.

Why do Hamas want to wipe out Israel from the world map? - Quora

We might best consider the trans nationality of Gaza as a reprisal of the border strikes that were enabled by the funneling of arms int eh Cold War from the former USSR to Syria and Egypt in order to restrain the ambitions of Israel that American arms bolstered, although the size, apparatus, and techniques of armaments have existed–and the mapping tools that are now part of the arms.

Philippe Rekacewicz, The October War [Yom Kippur War) (1973), Monde Diplomatique, April 1998

The war on two fronts was, as it occurred, a war for Israel’s existence. But as the above visualization nicely reminds us, the strategic alignment of troops in the Yom Kippur war are best mapped not only by military advances, but against the backdrop of importing weapons that fomented the war that felt inevitable. This time, the borders and divides are more defined, and the flows of weapons demand to be mapped. But the combination of the eery flow of Gaza workers into Israel, and the possibility of a flow of cross-border weapons that arrived into Gaza, even as Israel tightened its noose, have inspired a violence that leaves many hoping that the other is wiped off the face of the map. But whatever the map we chose to study, we may misunderstand the locked-in nature of the current war as local, or rooted only in local history: if it is rooted in an occupation, it is also a new stage of the diffusion of swarms of remotely guided missiles, produced on the cheap and not dependent on arms providers in removed areas, as the United States and Russia, but able to be produced in mass quantities on the cheap to reveal vulnerabilities all countries may soon feel.

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Filed under arms trade, drone warfare, Gaza War, Israeli-Palestinian relations, terrorism

Eternal Borders and the Territory of the Gaza Strip

When I attended Hight Holiday services this past year in Oxford’s Orthodox synagogue, it was for the first time in some years. But the spatial imaginary that unfolded in the services days before the invasion of Israel’s “border barrier” on October 7, 2024 suggested how difficult the geography of the Middle East would be. Although it was familiar, I stopped at an old prayer in the Makhzor, or holiday liturgy, praying for the safety of the Israeli Defense Forces as they guard Israel’s boundaries over the coming New Year, 5785.  The prayer was familiar, but stood out for me as I returned to religious service in a foreign country: the collective imprecation to preserve the IDf defending the borders of the Holy Land suddenly seemed an aggressive act, in an era when borders are not only far more heavily fortified than in the past. For the border barriers around Israel hold mental space before the cry “from the river [Jordan] to the [Mediterranean] Sea“–a maddeningly geographically vague slogan, to be sure, but one understood to elide Israel’s presence in the Mideast, if not annihilate the state that has become trenched in as never before, as a bordered nation of fixed demarcated walls.

The militarized borders of the nation-state made the prayer disturbing days before the invasion, or the response to the shock of an armed incursion of sovereign bounds of vicious civilian and military deaths. For if the fears of any assault of Israel’s territorial claims have been met by the increasingly intense fortification of its borders, a ramping up of its claims to “security” and “securitization” that has eroded the ethical values of the state, the defenses of these boundaries were both more militarized and less sustainable in the future, and to begin the New Year by hoping for the security with which they were guarded–as if they were granted by divine right but embodied by militarized defense–was unintentionally quite off-key, and made me grind my teeth during the High Holiday I had arrived to celebrate with some trepidation in a foreign country,–not seeking friendship or continuity but orienting myself to a city I had only recently moved in mid-September. I was not concerned about Israeli borders, but fund the invocation of their guarding to carry a deep weight for the members of the congregation, reminding me that the prayer–an addition after the 1967 War– had long assumed deep significance.

If the New Year’s holiday had some spiritual resonance as a way of marking time, the sense of bonds among Jews grew with the coming invasion, making me negotiate my relation to the service I had just her. Indeed, the explosiveness of the invasion that left me and my fellow-expats reeling and hard to observe at a distance made me interrogate where that prayer had origins, and reflect how the literalization of a project of boundary-guarding had become so dangerous project of courting risks of raised the stakes, intentionally turning a blind eye. If the war was an invasion of Israel territory, the border zone between Gaza and Israel has, perhaps rightly, long been the subject of attention of Israel’s Prime Minister, who has repeatedly emphasized “stoppage points” and “closure” of the Gaza Strip and control of the border zone between Egypt and the Gaza Strip. The military securitization of these borders were hard to reconcile with the benedictions of the kindly rabbi. He led the congregation in high valedictory form at the cusp of retirement, negotiated the benediction to George V in our Mitkhor, following Anglican ritual asking for the safety of the royal family, of a piece with a sermon voicing dismay at the strain of lamentation strain of Judaism that he felt had infected or reconfigured Jewish identity at some loss.

For a strain of lamentation, derived from the poetics of the laments of the Psalmists, but expanded to the elegiac account of suffering and commemoration that expand the liturgical elegies to accounts of forced conversion, expulsions, crusades, pogroms, and even assimilation short-changed pride of a “chosen” people, the rabbi felt, undermining a sense of pride. The ancient strain of lament in Jewish poetics and poetry certainly decisively expanded in twentieth century before inexpressibility of the Holocaust, and a need to express inexpressible pain in the face of fears of annihilation. But the logic of lament of would come to the surface with quite a vengeance after the unprecedented invasion of Israeli territory on October 7, only weeks after the rabbi’s sermon, as the unspeakable trauma of the crossing of the fortified border of Israeli territory opened existential fears that set in play a logic of retribution. If lament pressed the borders of linguistic expression and actual comprehension, the escalated response metthe anguish of lamentation demands, but no response can ever fully satisfy. The call to pride, and even content with being Jews, was somewhat tempered by the calls to save the warriors defending those highly militarized geographic boundaries, as much as boundaries of expression.

The boundaries of Israel as a “state” had become not only embattled, but less defended lines than firm fences, rigid, and asserting a statehood removed from negotiation, and perhaps from Zionism, as they were understood as bulwark against Palestinian expansion that so tragically ended with the battery of hundreds of ground-to-air rockets forms the long-barricaded Gaza Strip, serving as cover for a bloody invasion of Israel planned for a decade, approved by Hamas leaders in 2021–even known by some of Israel’s intelligence forces as code-named “Jericho Wall,” an attack of unmanned drones to disable the surveillance towers along Gaza border wall, to attack military bases, but dismissed–if it was feared to constitute “the gravest threat that IDF forces are facing in defending [ Israel]”–and the intense week of bombardment accompanied the resolution with which Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu called a press statement to be televised on a holy Sabbath, an emergency exception to the religious calendar that emphasized its urgency, in which the Prime Minister apt to view Jewish identity in an optic of perennial political persecution menacingly told the nation that “our enemies have just begun to pay the price” on national television, announcing air, drone, and artillery strikes on the Gaza Strip would be “just the beginning” of an intense national retribution for the bloody attacks on civilians and civilian abductions from Israeli territory. This was not defending borders, as the prayer suggested: but it was a reprisal against the trans-border strike that was an act of Hamas, funded by transnational groups in Iran and elsewhere, attacking the transformation of the Gaza Strip to a launching pad for strikes into Israel’s territory, as much as securing the borders of the state.

Military Incursions in Gaza by Drone, Air, and Artillery/Armed Conflict Location & Event Data/October 7-27

The horrible and terrible scale of attacks on the heavily populated region affirmed a mental imaginary we have a hard time grasping, but seemed designed to illustrate Israeli control over the region–and over a region from the River Jordan to the Mediterranean Sea–that tried to impose itself on Palestinian cries for a vision of “from the river to the sea,” an ominously vague geography. The bombardment immediately raised questions of Gaza’s sovereignty and affirmed the territorial right of the state to defend its boundaries, even if the boundary barrier between Gaza and Israel was of Israeli military’s own creation, and lay within, technically, the territoriality of the Israeli state.  The demand to reveal air dominance proceeded in unrelenting ways, as the bloody invasion of Israeli territory had pierced the ability to articulate a response, triggering traumatic memories that have produced an endless outpouring of maps in hopes to remedy how difficult it is to discuss, as if to try to ascertain some objectivity in the actual occurrences, triggering thousands of outpouring of settler violence against Palestinians easy to be predicted, but must be lamented, and an immediate escalation of retributive air strikes across Gaza Strip, as if to destroy its future, airstrikes returning to new heights but concentrated for the first time in one small region: Gaza.

Fears of a cross-border attack had circulated before the summer, and there was concern, with military drills of increasing intensity within the Gaza Strip, of crossing this border. But the barrier seemed to have fostered inexcusable ignorance that may be investigated as if blinders to national intelligence. The invasion’s shock created a vortex of mapping and remapping the Middle East to express its reality on the map, but that reality also seems inadequately expressed by any map: for it was an open denial of a political right to exist, revealing in questioning sovereign claims.

The map of the planned attack routes dismissed as impossible across a monitored border barrier reflects a locked-in mindset that saw the barrier as fixed . The IDF saw the maps of future invasion as an impossibility, unable to see the intense aspirations for the dismantling of the border as an event for which Palestinian groups as Hamas had long planned or might accomplish. Yet the fears embodied as a charge, under the cry “from the river to the sea” of such exasperating geographical vagueness, that seems an incursion of the national space of sovereignty that were hard to imagine, even if it was clearly mapped out as a multi-pronged strike invading Israeli territory, perhaps along new versions of the offensive tunnels that Israel had worked so hard in 2008, 2012, and 2014 to destroy, long realized was a threat to Israeli sovereignty, but had yet not developed tools to destroy. The maps were not by tunnels, so much as overground paths: but in the current Gaza War, the engineers of the IDF would continue to map and reveal and destroy through March, 2024, as combat engineers closed a four kilometer tunnel fifty meters below ground, destroying transnational abilities to attack Israel and prevent the possibility of incursions across its borders, in ways that tested the reconfigured borders and expanded concept of the defense of borders in a globalized world..

Plans for Proposed “Mass Invasion” of Hamas across Gaza Boundary/IDF, July 2022

Yet the nightmare of course returned. While what that consists of became unclear, as the terrible attack on Gaza unrolled in reaction to the bloody October 7 incursion of armed militants into Israel, a stunning cross-border surprise attack across twenty two points of the perimeter that killed and wounded settlers and members of the Israeli army, following a barrage of rockets fired from the barricaded Gaza Strip, entering towns to attack civilians. Can these attacks be seen as part of a movement of liberation, or self-determination, or were they an exasperated crisis of containment by a machinery of war whose gears were already ratcheted up around the dotted border walls.

The invasion of towns sent shock waves through the very notion of Zionism. The rhetoric of liberation of the motivational cry “from the river to the sea” is itself a bid to remap territoriality and territory, of course, and feared as a coded call-to-arms of the Hamas network or the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, seen as a bloody cry to undermine the call for commitment of the Likud Party to defend sovereignty over all land up to the Sea, or Mediterranean.  Indeed, if the rhetoric of liberation has helped to lead to an unthinkable set of military conflicts on Israeli territory of multiple points of conflict in Israel between Palestinians and IDF, redrawing the very contested barrier built around the Gaza Strip as a barricade of one of the most densely populated regions in the globe, the invasion was a planned refusal of such constraints–

Sites where Terrorist Militants Engaged Israeli Army on October 7, 2023/Visegrád

–to push the border of the Gaza Strip far beyond the massive walls Israel had constructed at significant expense. For if Israeli military had sought to cordon off what has been seen as an existential threat to Israel’s future. If the memorialization of the Holocaust has become central to the demonization of Palestinian terrorists, the border walls that seemed to staunch off a future of death found a terrifyingly brutal invasion by crossing the border barrier, triggering collective fears across the nation of an attack on Israel’s very future. Indeed, the origins of the arming of Palestinian groups in the Gaza Strip have advanced, from a range of multinational sources, including Iran, to help redraw the boundaries that Israel has long defended, as a way to breach the impregnable defenses that had increasingly been built around the nation to protect it, to try to prevent against increased threats of incursion of a state that refused to negotiate for the future.

Fortified Boundary Fencing and Barriers around Israel/2020

The walling off of the Israeli border by physical barriers in recent years has speed to seek to create a bulwark against such an invasion–as if in response to the cartographic logic of the motivational cry Palestinians have popularized as a form of national liberation. The razor-tipped fencing, concrete barriers, and impassible fences have promised a sense of security in the Promised Land, which may have undermined global consensus the land is promised–and has led to much global anger at the unilateral fortification of the state as a confirmation of the most nationalist hard-line form of Zionism, refusing dialogue and directing military resources and funds to the suppression of any future for a Palestinian state, beyond parts of the West Bank, between the River Jordan and the Mediterranean. Was not the invasion a bitter reminder of the site of the refugee camps established in the Gaza Strip, years ago, at the very origins of the Israeli state, as if the haunting of the region had its own memories, which refused to be silent?

I could not wish for more misfortune to a kindly Rabbi than inaugurating a New Year marked by the invasion of October 7. But the horror that unfolded in coming weeks made those days seem almost halcyon. I confess ambivalence to the faith of Judaism, but the turn of the liturgy to the safety of the soldiers guarding the Israel’s boundaries from its “enemies” made me a bit queasy, and hesitate to follow the prayer, but made me reconsider how the huge investment in those walls–and in their guarding was not also a large part of the problem, that had set in play a dynamic of contesting Israeli sovereignty–and the Zionist promise for an Israeli state–that has reconfigured the Zionist proposal in ways that have since brought unforeseen inflections to the saying Schwer tau sein a Yid, an existential statement to be sure steeped in the memories of the Holocaust, and remembrance, as if passed down through generations, poised to fall into the abyss of memory, before gaining a new spin with the assigning of redemptive strength not to “Israel” but to the barriers to contain threats.

Could it be that the cry, From the Border to the Sea, had not become a conceptual map about the way that the ruling parties had now conceived of Israel and Israeli boundaries? Indeed, Netanyahu had made clearly cartographic campaign promises, in 2019, to reduce the Palestinian Territories if re-elected, promoting 2019 as a unique “opportunity” to “kill all chances for peace” of the sort that rarely arrived, and had not existed since the Six Day War of 1967, an opportunity for redrawing the map from a position of absolute authority by whittling away at a third of Palestinian claims to the West Bank, sufficiently to stymie any hope of Palestinian statehood. The new West Bank on which Netanyahu campaigned for a second term surrounded Palestinian lands around Jericho by making it an island, extending Israel to the River Jordan “in maximum coordination with [President] Trump.” The “West Bank” would, Netanyahu argued, become an island surrounded by Israeli territoriality and control, in an attack on Palestinian statehood that sent the Arab League into full Panic Mode and seemed designed to curry and bolster the violent animosity of settlers to Palestinians in the West Bank–who now saw their rights to the areas around Jericho as sanctioned and legitimated.

Netanyahu Vows to Seize Two-Thirds of West Bank before September, 2019 Elections/Amir Cohen/Reuters

The role of the IDF in containing these boundaries–and indeed constructing them and guarding them–made it hard to participate, or to feel as if I belonged in the service, even before October 7. As the service shifted to prayers for the safety of those who “guard” the boundaries of Israel from enemies, I had a deep uneasinesss before the notion of inscribing eternal boundaries in a verbal map, as Israel’s national defense–even long before the October 7 invasion–was reliant on securitized barriers, that had long replaced fencing, that the nation had invested in as a promise to preserve national security, described as an “Iron Wall” but more accurately if less euphemistically as a “multi-layered composite obstacle” that had remapped the nation-state by “security barriers” since the Oslo Accords, with a promise to “make terrorism more difficult.” The growth of such securitized boundaries contrast to how settlement within the Green Line was celebrated by the Maariv newspaper with a special insert map in 1958 after ten years of Israel’s independence–

Maariv Newspaper insert Map, The Achievements Of Israel’s Tenth Anniversary of Independence (1958)

–by the new geopolitical boundaries the Israeli state has built around its territories. The prayer to protect the Israeli Defense Forces entrusted to protect the boundaries of Israel from its enemies sent me across a history lesson of sorts, which I ruefully noted anticipated a rash of history lessons dispensed line after the invasion of October 7, 2023. For as we tried to make sense and process the violence of the invasion and of the Gaza war–fought around the Green Line, to be sure, to prevent violation of that boundary dramatically and traumatically crossed on October 7–

the celebratory tones of the early map seem less of an achievement than an unresolved problem.

While the invasion was removed, and I was in Oxford, England, one not only felt it as an immediate violation because of the news, or the global news media, but the shock of the invasion of boundaries as a gruesome violation, indeed as a bodily violation in the manner that led accusations of rape to be assimilated to and intertwined with its acting out of an almost ritualized spectacle of violence, but the violation was cast against not only “eternal” boundaries but the fortified boundaries of Israeli territory today, boundaries that have led to the perhaps false security of borders, and the ignoring of the situation of suffering and economic inequality sharply present on their other side. What exactly were the pundits at Big Think thinking when they heralded the “Palestine Map” of the Trump administration had helped birth as of historical significance as a map “Israel can live with”?

The map seeming to offer Palestinians “open transit” by corridors designated by bidirectional arrows was indeed the first time “a U.S. administration officially proposed borders for a Palestinian state,” the quick rebuff that a map that designated Jerusalem as Israel’s national capital met–“Jerusalem is not for sale,” an aging Mahmoud Abbas fulminated as he directed utter disdain at the realtor-turned-President who sought with his real estate cronies to bring a new map to the table. The proposal of borders was, indeed, a proposal that reduced the Green Line, if it promised high tech zones in a “Vision of Peace” that offered 70% of the West Bank to Palestine, and offered–oddly, in retrospect–a “tunnel” that would link the Gaza Strip under Israeli territory tied to desert islands on the Egyptian border–a “Gaza archipelago” of “desert islands” in the Negev–

A Vision for Peace/White House Twitter, 2020/Donald J. Trump

–that seemed to be most conscious of enshrining Israeli jurisdiction over its borders,; one must feel was dreamed up by Netanyahu and Trump as they imagined a future Trump’s election might bring. For the map did little to alter the barriers, built in place of negotiable boundaries, that the prayer in the liturgy intimated were of timeless origin. Yet the prayer over which I had stumbled was not timeless at all: it had been only written in 1967, by a rather avid Zionist, Rabbi Shlomo Goren, who was the first Head Military Rabbinate of the Israeli Defense Forces, veteran of several Arab-Israeli wars, penning a prayer tat was eager to sacralize the boundaries that were in fact temporal.

The built barriers sat uneasily with the notion of sacred boundaries that Rev Goren, a founder of the state of Israel who affirmed the sacred identity of Israeli territory, sought to affirm and celebrate in 1967. If the boundaries were cast as “eternal” in the collective memory of the liturgy, praying for the safety of soldiers defending seemingly eternal boundaries “from the border with Lebanon to the Egyptian desert and from the Mediterranean Sea to the approach to the Arava, be they on land, air or sea“–raised questions even before the October 7 invasion. The return to this collective memory, invested with the status of the internal, left me uneasy on a holiday inviting one examine one’s conscience. As an American Jew and the son of a man who may have in some way aspired to be a sabra, whose contradictions may have taken their spun from that impossible hope, the boundaries of Israel long stood as traced outlines of some sacrality. They had increasingly seemed a sense of personal boundaries, or intuited as lines of personal office, as it their violation was no less than a violation of identity, as much as territorial ones.

The premium on national security that the Gaza-Israeli border barrier was built to serve disrupted the boundaries that Goren inscribed has shifted by the construction of border walls. The walls were a promise to ward off globalist dangers, tied far more to Donald Trump and the Likud Party than Zionist tradition.  The budding of concrete barriers to the nation have changed “boundaries” of Israel by geodetic maps since the 1980s, increasingly promising to securitize boundaries in a unilateral fashion, making them less seen as shared by tow nations, than absolute edges to be not only defended but imposed.  The defense of a border boundary made the prayer penned by Goren out of date, but the ostensible timelessness of its boundaries left a bitter taste in my mount.   Yet somehow it was comforting to see the old walls of Oxford, walking around New College, and view the concept of the “wall” with less permeance as a structure, and less imposing in character–more akin, say to Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe with their small electric lights.

I stumbled as I was being asked to recite a verbal map of the borders that seemed eternal, if not set by scriptural precedent. The familiar prayer gained poignancy in a foreign setting, and not only because the Oxford synagogue was monitored by a security team.  The boundaries traced in the prayer stuck in my mind, as the idea of beseeching the divine to safeguard their defense, as boundaries that were long contested and seemingly contingent seemed sanctified from on high, long after the service ended.  Although the administration of the Gaza Strip had long lain outside of Israel’s bounds, or even the remit of Israeli Defense Forces, when the benediction to IDF forces was composed for the liturgy in 1956, after the partition of Israeli and Palestinian lands by a Green Line, then years before the Israeli army occupied Gaza after 1967, almost ten years later. 

But the fortification of these boundaries in recent years has so drastically shifted the state of play, and the sense of Israel’s place in global geopolitics, in deeply profound ways, that the prayers for those guarding these walls weren’t so easily endorsed. And it the events of October 7 left us all far more psychically dislocated in ways I hadn’t anticipated in the Yom Kippur service from the aspirational timelessness of boundaries of an idealized homeland. One longed to see the building of walls as something more of an anachronism, removed in time, as, as it happened, they were in Oxford–and in so many other English medieval towns, if they were far more part of the scene in Oxford as living anachronisms–

–gave some sort of weird historical context and deep anachronism to the building of walls with deep underground concrete barriers, in ways that seemed terribly and terrifyingly removed from the rather bucolic nature that these old stone walls in Oxford have increasingly assumed.

In recent years, the Gaza Strip boundary that had gained the misleading if rhetorically effective name of an “Iron Wall” –a misnomer for a wall not built of iron, but steel and concrete, that might promise protection of Israeli territory. Such security fences have grown part of the national infrastructure around the state, all but necessary investments and sites of protection that attempted to provide an imager of security–and securitized boundaries–for the economic development of Israel as a state, forms of permanent protection that had departed from the boundaries of belonging. These security fences had been argued to be temporary adjustments to restrain cross-border terror, that “could be moved or dismantled if a peace agreement was signed with the Palestinians.” But if the security fences have reduced cross-border attacks and Israeli mortality, the huge cost of both engineering and building a massive set of security fencing in the past two decades have come at a cost of privileging the barrier, and reorienting attention to the barrier in place of state boundaries,

and promoted a new pattern of settlement, and the prioritization of the security of settlements, that have dramatically shifted the territory, and redrawn the map of the Middle East, in ways that can hardly be called eternal–or even seen as following a vision one might claim to call Zionist.

The prayer created, of course, a sense of the eternal boundaries that was potent for many in the Israeli government–from Benjamin Netanyahu, who would have ben a child, not yet a Bar Mitzvah, when it was included in the liturgy after 1956. The repeating of this prayer gained resonance in the coming days, as it made me realize the complex overlapping sorts of spatialities or mapping regimes in the current war. It suggests the tangled nature of mapping the conflict in Gaza, where intense cruelty of a military conflict has led to the latest spate of visualization claiming to be cartographic clarifications,–running up against incomprehension of the unfolding scale of violence that is so hard to map.

Indeed, the vulnerability of Israel was long seen as a basis for the strategic right to defend Israel’s borders–a question of the essence from the foundation of the state whose strategic vulnerability of its borders has haunted the nation, as it will no doubt continue to do.

Israel’s Strategic Vulnerability from the West Bank

Yet the right to protect borders is qualitatively changed if those borders are edges of security, determined without any desire to negotiate or ability to negotiate with a presence of Palestinians who are effectively dehumanized on its other side. The vigilance of guarding borders seems a right. But I self-consciously stumbled as the congregation endorsed the future safety of the Israeli Defense Service in guarding Israel’s borders, the Gaza-Israel border barrier in my mind, before October 7.  Palestinians were killed in an accidental explosion during protests along Gaza’s eastern boundary, receiving fire as they confronted Israeli forces, in a fence that was monitored, but imposed an edge of territoriality, rather than a boundary. Was this a territorial boundary, or just a physical fence? Did it define sovereignty, or was it drawn to protect a contested military line?  Was this a line that the Prime Minister would have felt desperate to defend, especially a man who was born in 1948?

The promise that fencing built over three years for 3.5 billion NIS might”put a wall of iron, sensors, and concrete between [Hamas] and the residents of the south” was no boundary of the state, but it was presented as one. As a militarized barrier, it was a super-border, an isolation wall of sorts to prevent infection from the Palestinian groups who inhabited cities and refugee camps on the other side. If promoted as a defensible territorial divide that might be inserted into the Middle East as a measure of national security, the border was seen as having one side as a securitized barrier, a line that was drawn to stop thinking about those on its other side or its impact on global geopolitics. The liturgical invocation of the defense of quasi-timeless boundaries to defend cities seemed at odds with this highly militarized border, normalizing the firing of rockets form the Gaza Strip and protests at its other side as a stable boundary able to be controlled and monitored at a distance.

Gaza Strip (-), 22/09/2023.- Palestinians carry a wounded protester near the border wall during clashes on the eastern border of the Gaza Strip, 22 September 2023. (Protestas, Disturbios) EFE/EPA/MOHAMMED SABER

Palestinians Protest beside the Gaza-Isreali Border Wall on Eastern Border of Gaza Strip, 22 September 2023/ EFE/EPA/Mohammed Saber

It of course was not, and demands to be seen not as an immutable boundary line. Mapping the region with such firmness offers little plan forward, to be sure, but only a retrenchment of past borders. Two weeks before the invasion of Israel’s securitized boundary around the Gaza Strip, the role of defending bounds, and beseeching God for their defense, was pretty hard to articulate. The trust placed in a fortified boundary as part of a quite recent commitment to “surround all of Israel with fences and obstacles” mis-mapped walls as if they were defensible as timeless bounds, in ways that brought me back to the liturgy of Day of Atonement.  Praying for defending built boundaries, with few prospects of future safety “over our land and the cities of our God,” made it hard to repeat the storied prayer written only in 1956. Guarding boundaries was never without its risks, to her sure, but the verbal map that mirrored military maps of the Universal Transverse Mercator, uniting land, air and sea in ways adopted after World War II, were cast as eternal, without geopolitical contingency or human intuition and origin, or diplomatic concordats with its neighbors.  Was this made boundary only imagined as a line of security, rather than a mapping of friend and enemy?

The standard Mizhor prayer has since been revised among Jewish Reform congregations to include “the Innocent Among the Palestinian People,” asking that they remain “free from death and injury” as “Israeli soldiers as they defend our people against missiles and hate.” The alteration may help many examine their conscience, a deep imperative, but the power of mapping a mission of territorial redemption by timeless boundaries seems, at the same time, to be so powerfully disquieting as it transcended individual reflection, obstinately creating a “map”far more aggressive than with any negotiated historical grounds.

The verbal map I had stumbled upon resonated across a deeper history, tied mostly to scriptural markers, but nested into the military maps using a geodetic grid to unite air, land and sea forces, the Universal Transverse Mercator, that to me seems uncomfortably meshed with spatial markers of biblical tradition.  Biblical tradition tugged at the military map, composed in 1956, for me, that belonged to many prayers the learned Talmudist wrote; the verbal map the congregation recited was integrated in the service seamlessly, but my voice broke at imprecating God to protect the knitting of a military and biblical map presented as transmitting sacred boundaries to the present. 

As much as I tried to compartmentalize my reaction to the prayer, it seemed especially difficult to recite–and to transmit in an immutable liturgy–long before October 7, as illegal settlements in the occupied territory have so dramatically risen, from the West Bank to the southern Negev, and to the outposts of near the Gaza-Israel border barrier.  When the barrier was invaded by exultant Palestinians armed to the hilt, puncturing through the menacing border boundary with vengeance and glee, the safety of its defenders imperiled by men who drove through it in bulldozers, cycles and jeeps punched holes in the notion this was an offensive edge or guarded territorial boundary.

Terrorists Crossing the Fence of Southern Gaza Border Boundary, October 7, 2023/Said Khatibn/AFP

There is a sense that this layering of cartographic spatialities can be traced to the early roots of Zionism–if not the conflation of an conceit of the harmonious living between Jews and Arabs in a Altneuland that Theodore Herzl, the founder of Zionist thought, audaciously foresaw in his novel. When Rabbi Weiss, a Moravian, broached in used tones the powerful word “Palestine” as if it was a forbidden secret, or a powerful word indeed to uncork, in an early twentieth-century attempt to conjure a land free from anti-semitism in a new place rooted in old ideas in the seacoast inhabited by Philistines for Greek geographers, the fictional Rabbi paused at mentioning a land preserved in mythic terms in exile, introducing the toponym to shift conversation on the “Jewish problem” to a new level, buy broaching how  “A new movement has arisen within the last few years, . . . called Zionism [whose] aim is to solve the Jewish problem through colonization on a large scale,” by allowing “all who can no longer bear their present lot will return to our old home, to Palestine.” He ws dumbfounded at provoking laugher at a dinner party in a cosmopolitan city: yet “The laughter ran every gamut. The ladies giggled, the gentlemen roared and neighed.” Yet the overlapping of old and new in a map of the region continued to provoke strong feelings of territoriality as it has been translated into firm boundaries of defense.

The notion of “Palestine” was erased from the map that Benjamin Netanyahu dsplayed to the United Nations’ 78th General Assembly, entitled “The New Middle East,” just weeks before the invasion of Israel, but its absence was a far more provocative overlapping of different and incongruous spatialities of the region than many have noted. The cartographic prop that was presented the United Nations General Assembly echoed the verbal map I stumbled upon. It was terrifying given the recent promoting of new boundaries for Israel, that terrifyingly echoed the prayers, theMiddle East that Israel’s hawkish Prime Minister promoted to the United Nations General Assembly as “new,” and as able to “bring down barriers between Israel and its neighbors” by removing boundary walls of the sort that the current Israeli government has promoted at such huge expense.  Despite investing a huge amount of the military budget in barrier wall between Israel and the Gaza Strip, the barrier is hard to see as defensible–even if we only later wondered by what logic Israel imagined itself secure behind a border wall.  

Benjamin Netanyahu Presenting Maps of Middle East at United Nations’ 78th Assembly/ September 22, 2023

As we looked to maps and data visualizations for compressed history lessons in future weeks, I looked to the past, from this old verbal maps that stuck stubbornly in my head–even as I was able to date its inclusion in the liturgy to the U.N. Plan of partition of February, 1956.  Did Netanyahu remember this plan–or his father’s reaction to it when he was six years of age–asking the General Assembly, the international body that had partitioned the Middle East, “change the attitude of the organizations institutions toward the State of Israel,” echoing Ben-Zion’s fears that creating “an Arab state in the land of Israel” would be a conflict preparing for the destruction of Israel?

February 1956 Map of UN Partition Plan for Palestine ...

United Nations Partition Plan for Israel and Arab Lands/February, 1956

1. The Israel-Gaza Barrier was built to monitor movement between the Gaza strip and Israel a border didn’t allow. The fence and concrete constructed after a spate of Palestinian suicide bombers was not “Iron” but after Palestinians infiltrated Israeli territory, from the West Bank and Gaza Strip, and by firing rockets from the Gaza enclave, it was a state of the art security barrier, perhaps even a promotion of Israeli technologies of “border building” on show for the newly elected American President, Donald Trump, and an eery imposition on Middle Eastern geopolitics.  The trust in this defensive mechanism lacked any means of active protection, but as a securitized wall of tactical advantage, securing an illusion of protecting Israeli cities without any offensive action.

The new pseudo-borders of security barriers erase the partitioning of Palestinian lands by the false promise of securitized walls, as if in place of cross-border dialogue. While we map the Gaza conflict as if it were a local one, in our hyper-connected age, ostensibly without borders, the conflict on the Gaza Strip demands to be seen partly as an eternal one, but even more deeply as one of mapping sovereignty in a globalized world.   The notion of “guarding boundaries” has become tantamount to the guarding of settlements in the Netanyahu regime, which had proposed a new map of Israel, not bound by a “Green Line” of past settlements drawn up in earlier treaties of the Israeli state, but advancing a new logic of accelerating settlements from the River Jordan up to the Mediterranean. Netanyahu pedantically used a red magic marker to present what he called a new prophetic vision and blessing before the United Nations General Assembly, including pained representatives from Lebanon, Palestine, and Saudi Arabia, that began from shockingly ahistorical claims Israel was founded without a Green Line dividing Israeli and Palestinian presence on the West Bank–

Benjamin Netanyahu Presenting Maps of Middle East at United Nations’ 78th Assembly/ September 22, 2023

–and continued to imagine a “New Middle East” cleansed of Palestinians.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu Presenting Maps of Middle East at United Nations’ 78th Assembly/ September 22, 2023

In perhaps purposefully low-tech cartographic static maps, he heavy-lidded PM heavy handedly presented a choice between a horrific war of terrorism and “a historic peace of boundless prosperity and hope” fifteen days before the bloody territorial incursions of October 7.  While the maps were not suggested to be a form of cartographic violence, they made the circuits on social media, with considerable shock at an Israeli “showing” a map entitled “New Middle East” without the presence of Palestinians as a call for “eliminating Palestine and Palestinians from the region”–and legitimizing a “Greater Israel,” commentators feared, in a weird cartographic purification.

Benjamin Netanyahu holds a map of the Middle East without Palestine

Netanyahu assumed a vaguely professorial air, as he heralded the historical emergence of “many common interests” between Israel and Arab states after three millennia, in the emergence of a “visionary corridor” that revealed an Arab world “reconciled” to Israel. Yet weeks before the military invasion, he lifted mock-up maps of both the creation of the Israel as a state in 1948 and of “The New Middle East” in patronizing manner that persisted in incredibly eliding Palestinian Territories with Israel–and placed Israeli territory at the center of the “New” Middle East–

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu Presenting Maps of Middle East at United Nations’ 78th Assembly/ September 22, 2023

–as a prophetic vision for the region that would be able to “bring down barriers between Israel and our neighbors” as we “build a new corridor of peace” omitted a Palestinian presence. 

His condescendingly professorial style of addressing the UN General Assembly may have well recalled the intonations adopted by his father, Ben-Zion Netanyahu, a professor of Early Modern European History who had funneled his militant revisionary Zionist vision refusing to accommodate Arabs’ pretense to sovereignty in the Middle East save from a position of absolute strength to a world picture that insisted Jews were long persecuted as racially different, as if reifying twentieth-century theories of racial purity as an optic of Jewish persecution. Netanyahu seemed to see himself as forcing the resolution of this historical dynamic, as a new historical age “will not only bring down barriers between Israel and our neighbors,” but “build a new corridor of peace and prosperity” by a “visionary corridor” negotiated at G-7 as if to win assent from General Assembly member-states to a “New Middle East” tying Israel to the UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Jordan,–

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu Presenting Maps of Middle East at United Nations’ 78th Assembly/ September 22, 2023

–as a chance to “tear down the walls of enmity” to proclaim peace “between Judaism and Islam” on account of a a “visionary corridor” of energy pipelines, fiber optic cables, maritime trade and transport of goods, uniting the Arabian Peninsula and Israel to the world.  In place of the thick red magic marker he Sharpie illustrated epochal shift in Israel’s ties to new Arab partners of Saudi Arabia and Jordan,–imitating his use of a red magic marker to lecture the General Assembly e the Iranian nuclear threat. By heralding normalization of ties between Israel and Saudi Arabia as a “New Middle East,” he seemed to dismiss any need for future work from the United Nations, no doubt with the Gaza Strip in mind, if he had placed it off the table of the United Nations’ concerns.

That very vision of globalization was terrifying to some, promoting as consensus the recognition of Israeli independence in the Arab world.  The rather foolish cartographic prop sought cartographic normalization of a myth, seeking endorsement of a “Greater Israel” that squirreled a heritage of rather radical Zionist strain into a vision of global modernization. And while in our hyper-connected age, ostensibly without borders, the conflict on the Gaza Strip can be mapped as a local one–or an eternal one.  Netanyahu presented a choice that echoed the verbal map in the liturgy read in the far fuller Oxford synagogue, assuming quite professorial airs as if to channel a commanding relation before the United Nations and to the Arab world that his father, Ben-Zion Netanyahu, had not only endorsed but seemed to summon an ability to conjure a means of defending Israel against its enemies by creating a new highway of information, technology, and jobs that ran from India to Israel, to guarantee the death of a two-state solution. 

“Europe” and “Asia” were linked in this new globalist vision through Israel, skirting Africa and suggesting a new “First World” view that seemed to elide a Palestinian presence in the Middle East.

AP/Richard Drew

Netanyahu Demonstrates “New Middle East” and 78th General Assembly/Sept 22, 2023

Much as Netanyahu’s Middle Easter n map of Israel’s 1948 foundation included no sign of Palestinian presence, the PowerPoint manqué of revisionary Zionism beginning but ten minutes into his speech, using the crudest of cartographic props to announce a prophetic vision to the half-empty arena of the Seventy-Eighth General Assembly. The map sought to shoehorn the Gaza Strip and West Bank into a cartographic reality negating existence of the Palestinian Territories, making good on his campaign promise. This was a map of robust security rather than actual boundary lines.  Was it not an endorsement of a vision of old boundaries to the Mediterranean Sea, from the River Jordan, that the ardent Zionist Goren had penned?

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Filed under Gaza, Gaza Strip, Middle East, occupied lands, palestinian territories

Hostile Homelands: A. B. Yehoshua Excavates Jerusalem’s Boundary Lines

The Palestinian mutely contemplates the sheer concrete expanse of the Separation Boundary as an exile from his homelands, as if pressed by the newly constructed boundary barrier that he rather stoically observes.  What passes through his head, we can’t say, but this blurred figure, captured as he rather eerily recalls Rodin’s Thinker, seems to contemplate the new future of a redrawn boundary to which he has an existential relation. The erection of poured concrete walls have created an apparently permanent border boundary across what he regarded as a homeland, and would contest. But the existential present of this moment conceals the depth with which such boundary lines were long historically contested and redrawn on maps, in a contest of wills that transcends the individual or present tense.   For the man outside the Separation Boundary contemplates a complicated map of shifting territories, difficult to bound, whose boundaries have been painfully renegotiated in the past as they are again rewritten in the present. And as we debate “border security” in the United States, contemplating an artifact that was imported in large part from Israel, we would be well to consider its prehistory, and the criminalization of the crossing of borders in the past. Does A.B. Yehoshua’s imagined archeology help us to do so?

Difficultis of discerning this face of the figure contemplating this Separation Boundary doesn’t conceal that his removal from the city of which he is resident, and the traumatic division among two halves of the city that he once knew as his home.  If the dream of Zionism parallels the time of the commission and production of monumental bronze castings of The Thinker, commissioned in 1880 from the sculptor who began to produce multiple versions from 1904, around the foundation of the political movement of Zionism launched in 1904, to establish the protection and international recognition of an Israeli stage, the fiction of deep affective commitment to the place and boundaries of Israel in the historically defined Holy Land is the subject of seductive palimpsestic unpeeling of the past of one family in A.B. Yehoshua’s Mr. Mani, a historical novel retrospectively stretched across five generations who seek their orientation to a Holy Land and to Jerusalem in ways that they cannot fully ever grasp–but which the reader begins to as he reads the novel’s five parts, as the boundaries of the state of Israel are peeled apart over time in what seems a modern pentateuch of the state, and a new genealogy of the Holy Land.

The boundary line that has been drawn over an area once easily and regularly crossed by foot suggests the deep stakes at claiming a tortured relation to the homeland by the Israeli state, and the threat that the rebuilding of this boundary creates not only in his psyche, but that haunts the psyche of the Israeli state.  The deep memories of a tie to place that the boundary barrier seems to defend cut off residents from their home, even as they intend to create claims. The contrast between the existential remove of watching the concrete separation barrier recently constructed in the city and the historical attachment to the land of Jerusalem prompts questions of archeology of boundaries, barriers, and attachments to place.  The tension between the most recent barrier and the deep historical ties to place seem to condense the repeated historical redrawing of boundaries in the city and the nation, and  psychological problems of drawing or respecting boundaries between peoples and individuals, and the fragile nature of place across shifting boundaries. If rooted in questions of migrations from Europe, across the Mediterranean, and in Israel, which gains concreteness only in the difficulty to map the psychic relation of the person within this place.

Elias Khoury begins Gates of the Sun by describing the specific romance of the map in similarly inter-generational terms, and in truly global terms as ruminating over over the spinning of a globe in a camp outside Beirut, Abu Salem remembers a past toponymy in mesmerizing manner, shifting from Biblical to Palestinian register that shifts to from rhapsody to melancholy and from a real to an imagined map–“”That’s Acre. Here’s Tyre. The plain runs to heart, and these are the villages of the Acre district. her’s Ain al-Zaitoun, and Deir al-Adsad, and al-Birwa, and there’s al-Ghabsiyyeh, and al-Kabri, and her’s Tarshiha, and there’s Bab al-Shams. . . . . Ain al-Zaitoun is the most beautiful village, but they destroyed in in ’48,'” describing an Arabic Palestinian village that existed from the sixteenth century which was depopulated and left the map, as it entered the new boundaries of the modern Israeli state–within whose boundaries it disappeared, receding from maps into personal memory.

The historical challenges of occupying Jerusalem, and indeed preserving a deeply personal and spiritual tie to land, seems tied to border crossings–and indeed creating boundaries–across the city’s ancient geography that the man stoically overlooks.

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We are perhaps all too ready to project his traumatic relation to the the contested boundary lines of contemporary Jerusalem, where concrete walls cuts Palestinians from the very regions of a city they long inhabited as it seeks to redraw its map, as if to further traumatize its residents.  While the figure of the Palestinian echoes the notion of a Rodin’s Thinker, contemplating his place in the world, he has a far more clearly located place than the famously mobile piece of sculpture, whose reproduction in casts and in marble transited around the world, moved on a pediment to any space, evoking an idealized act of thought in whatever context it stood, begging the question of its own subjectivity in relation to space:

Legion of Honor, San Francisco, CA

As a student who had studied in Paris–and, one imagines, understood the possibility of Hebrew as a literary language that would embrace multiple identities and subjectivities, as French did in the monde francophone–the image of a Rodin statue is, while a bit jarring to place as an explanatory motif to enter the Holy City and boundary-drawing of the Israeli state, an apt choice to place Yehoshua’s very public if not political literature in relation to the boundaries that he witnessed drawn up around the Israeli state, and treated his own work as a testimony to. It is striking that, of course, unlike the subjectivity of an Arab or Israeli, multiple casts of Rodin’s statue were famously mobile, able to circulate globally, independent of site, as icons of man’s intellectual superiority over the world and his surroundings. But the man sit with a site-specific sense o reflection, and effectively caught in the act of being displaced from his surroundings: a city which has long been praised because of its integrity in the religious imagination, and translated to a nation a term that was long reserved for applying to a people, has been beset by divisions that the boundary wall has mapped in Jerusalem is both palpable and insurmountable reminder. The statue reveals a pragmatics of division that is oddly and paradoxically described as intended to preserve the integrity of the city, by defining its place and security in the public imagination as if to recuperate and preserve a sense of the imagined topography of unity of the Mandate in 1946–before the foundation of kibbutzim, before the Irgun’s armed resistance to British military authorities, and before the foundation of the state Israel, if with clear boundaries of sovereignty.  

Did the story of the settlement of Jerusalem as a succession of subjectivity offer a truly transcendent relation to place, before which maps receded as purely provisional conventions to orient one to space or place? The novel provides a place, perhaps, if a bit by happenstance, as expressive of the cosmopolitan remove and liberal principles by which A.B. Yehoshua seeks to map the place of the subjective figure in the fractured Holy Land, and indeed the recuperation of Enlightenment principles by which to do so for a literature that he sought to provide the country, very much as a pragmatic resource akin to plumbing, running water, or electricity and gas, as much as a refined culture. The embodied culture of space may have led Yehoshua, whose father arrived from Salonika to the Palestinian Mandate, and whose mother arrived with her father from Morocco, when few Jews lived in the area that became bounded by the future state of Israel, to angrily reject the existence of the diaspora as a future for Jews and even as a meaningful or authentic mode of being for modern Jews, and especially among his readers: if Mr Mani seeks to orient its readers to the complex drawing and redrawing of boundaries in the Middle East around Israel, in order to transcend them, and takes the figure of a succession of subjectivities to provide a unity by which to place oneself in the continuity of the Israeli state, despite its modern creation, Yehoshua railed angrily in increasingly bitter terms about the diaspora or galut as “masturbation” rather than true being, in later years, as if in relation to his own sense of impotence at the sheer size of the diaspora–a reflection of the prospect of his own sexual impotence?–compared to confronting a multi-ethnic sense of territoriality in Jerusalem, and in the Holy Land, he had first encountered as a child.

The sectorizing of the city by such boundaries were akin to a rejection of history, or of the Zionist vision of crossing borders–a vision, to be sure, later corrupted in the shift of Zionism to Israel’s borders’ fierce defense. The sense of imposing borders on history, however, and on place, led Yehoshua to create one of the fiercest stories of the repeated crossing of borders over time, of location despite borders, a book written in a sort of locative voice, transcending early proposals dividing the city among Arabs and Jews drafted the very year of Yehoshua’s birth in the Palestinian Mandate, and a vision of segregation that the work and vision of his father to create a commonly understood legal code would span. The turn to writing and to stories to suggest the intertwined nature of Jews beside Arabs, not segregated apart, provided a means to narrate the demographic mixture of Jerusalem at the time–the city was populated by about 92,000 Jews; 32,000 Arabs; 27,000 that precipitated the division of the city into East and West regions as the prospect of a Jewish Mayor of Jerusalem was flatly rejected

Proposed Partition of Jerusalem’s Local Administration into Jewish and Palestinian Sectors, “A Proposal for Dividing Jerusalem between Jews and Arabs (Survey of Palestine,” Jaffa Aug., 1936)

The crossing of boundaries and persistent problem of crossing boundaries to preserve a coherent vision of Zionism becomes the question or logic for the generations of Mani in a question of what Rivka Galchen called “serial subjectivity” that cannot be understood but in relation to the impetus of crossing boundaries of the map, itself drawn in the year of Yehoshua’s birth. The fictive figure of a “Mani” at the center of this fictitious archeology of a heterodox in Jerusalem parallels the reconstruction of the historical figure of “Mani,” a prophet who was a member of a large Jewish Christian sect in Babylon with strong Gnostic elements as the future prophet described in the New Testament. Mani’s faith was rooted in the creation of a new gospel, in visions perhaps influenced by the fact that his mother was of Parthian descent, of Armenian origins, and was raised in a community of Jewish Christians, but who preached a heterodox faith that combined Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Zoroastrianism in a new heterodox complexion: he wrote six works in Syriac, and was eventually crucified after he preached his idiosyncratic heterodox faith to the Indian court of Shapur I in 242, crossing barriers in his life that the six generations of Mani whose fictional archeological record Yehoshua invites the reader to sort out across recent incursions and wars, each replaying the Manichaean conflicts that the historical Mani preached: the genealogy traces conflict across borders in a succession of ages, as if participants replayed the historical Mani gospel of a Manichaean struggle across Middle Eastern borders, asking if the very heterodox combination of cultures can survive. But the combination of boundary crossings that constitutes the basic story or “news” of the novel–fictive news, but news of present relevance–suggests a deep temporality of all boundaries, and indeed offers a means to work toward their transcendence.

The strong sense of an occupation of the city by generations–“All the generations before me/donated me, bit by bit, so that I’d be/erected all at once/here in Jerusalem, like a house of prayer/or charitable institution,” poet Yehuda Amichai evokes the deep tie to a past that physically ties him to Jerusalem’s present and pasts.  The proprietary sense tied to generations of Jews as bound  to the city of Jerusalem by a binding tie to place defies mapping. But the excavation of this actually quite modern sense is excavated in Amichai’s poetry and an inevitable subject of Israeli fiction.  The next poem in Amichai’s 1973 collection, Poems of Jerusalem, turns from the ties to place to the disruptive nature of the border barrier already built in the Old City, on each side of which flags are raised–“To make us think that they’re happy./To make them think that we’re happy.”–but that obscure who is flying a kite over the Old City, on a string held by a child who stands on its other side; if he cannot ever forget his tie to the city, its walls of separation are never able to be forgiven, but “If I forget thee,/let my blood be forgotten,” to describe the tortured relation that he felt in 1973 to the mapping the relation of the city so closely intertwined to his blood-line.

The issue of bonding to place within one’s blood line was more clearly mapped across time when A.B. Yehoshua compiled a fictional dossier on the testimonies across six generations of men residents in Jerusalem in Mr. Mani, a five-part 1992 historical novel that rewrites a Pentateuch of the Israeli state, or at least the Zionist dream of basing a Jewish state in Jerusalem, a city whose layered history Yehoshua knew well from his father, a local historian of the city, and that in a sense captures his own deep ambivalence to Jerusalem as a homeland or occupied city.  By tracing testimonies of the male members of the Mani family who settled in the city and manufactured this imagined tie to place, he allows them to give evidence of their ties to the city across generations we read in chronological reverse, in ways that seem to unpeeled their own deep internalization of their ties to the city of Jerusalem–and the cross-generational desire to create or recreate a physical tie to place. Even if it is only textual, and returns to landmarks in the city, more than to boundaries that we can understand as fixers, the novel traces mental boundaries, offering poignant testimony of the redrawing of Jerusalem on the map. As much as it is a story of the serial succession of subjectivities in Jerusalem, and the Holy Land, the “job” Yehoshua fills for himself of navigating and crossing boundaries–boundaries that were created in his own life, as a man born in the Palestinian Mandate, where his father worked to translate Hebrew to Arabic documents–take the task of forging a new Israeli literature in Hebrew that itself knew no boundaries, but was based in orienting readers to the palimpsestic realities coexisting in the Holy Land. Although this reaction to Yehoshua’s work in the form of a deep dive into the realities of cartographic boundaries was written in the diaspora before Yehoshua’s passing, it is a testament to the persistence of a gravitational pull of place in his work, rendering it as a sort of counter-mapping to the creation of boundaries proclaiming an end of history.

While the novel is removed from historical mapping and remapping of the settlement of the city, it traces a deeply psychic map, preserved in Faulknerian fashion of what might as well be a fictional country but could not be disguised as such. The intensity of personal projects of mapping a relation to place and remapping the desired union of each generation to the city, as if to realize the frustrated desires of their forefathers to map and thereby to create a new relation to place, without attending to its residents, so deep was their desire to protect, redraw, and identify with the place of the ancient city.  The creation of one side of the conversations of the Mani men provides a basis to excavate the deeply unfulfilled emotions needs that they bequeathed their descendants, and the incomplete relation that each transmitted as a failure to bind their own family to the city, and the difficulties that they have mapping their relations onto the presence of the city’s actual inhabitants.  The deep neediness of Mani men reveals the strength of ties of rooting oneself and family in place, and the heightened trauma of such a desire for attachment that has built up over generations, a traumatic tie to place that is visited upon its other residents.

The trauma of the Palestinian who regards the concrete barrier is not, literally, on most maps constructed of Jerusalem or of the Holy Land.  Indeed, the trauma of excluding Palestinian presence in the city that the Jewish state has adopted plans to occupy fully, and the provocation of publicly acknowledging it as a capital, seems to seek to enshrine the trauma in maps.  For the boundary barrier expanded the line of Israeli control over the contested city–and even exceeded the territorial claims the so-called Green Line of the 1949 Armistice, or the pre-1967 bounds–but were never intended to provide a territorial boundary for the state.  If those bounds were treated as the new boundary of a national territory after 1967, the expansion was tired to be remapped by the progressive construction of the barrier or boundary wall much further in recent years, as if to over-write and banish earlier memories of settlement, and to stake a rewritten Israeli sovereign relation to the city, now provocatively defined as a national capital on maps.

THomas Coex:AFP Getty

Thomas Coex/AFP

At what cost?  The project of a unified Jerusalem will hardly conceal the deeply pained relation to the territory, however, and seems destined to only augment its military defense.  At this point, it may be opportune to return to the historical excavation of the pained nature of these boundaries–and the compromises that they create in the occupation of lands–is addressed in deeply psychological terms in Yehoshua’s Mar Mani, or Mr. Mani, which traces or excavates the ever-growing costs of such a divide.  The curiously retrospective structure of the five books of the novel peel back historical layers of mapping a personalized Jerusalem through the testimony or discussion with men in a family of Mediterranean Jews and their ties to Jews of central Europe, that throw into relief the intensity of a psychological concentration that takes the Holocaust as its justification for the fulfillment of a Zionist project for retaking the Holy Land.

The project of settling Palestine is seen through the eyes of the long stateless Jews and the ties they have staked to the land from the late eighteenth century.  While often cited as a justification for the existence of Israel as a state, Yehoshua includes the genocide of the Second World War in his novel about five generations of a family who settled in Jerusalem, but throws the history of their tortured relation to place in a far broader context of the ways that people have long pressed against boundaries, and indeed, confused their own personal boundaries with relations to barriers and boundaries that existed, were drawn, or were being redrawn on maps, even as they tried to use maps to navigate their relation to the city for their descendants.  Is the tortured relation to the city something that was bequeathed as a failure to define personal boundaries, and to understand the boundaries that might have existed between Jewish settlers of jerusalem and its inhabitants, that continued to inform either the construction of the wall that extends beyond the pre-1967 border line–

Jerusalem:Epicenter

–and the hard place of the wall that divides the complex expansion of the old municipal border of 1949 to encompass its Palestinian and Jewish populations, and the tortured relation each feels to its place.

jerusalem-demographic-map2

The border boundary that divides Jerusalem today as emblematic of an utter divide between populations, illegal and asserting itself to be a concrete evidence of the application of the law:  the boundary wall seems to deny any past habitation and any past, to create a new realty of borders, even as it seeks to affirm and inscribe a new divide in the city, even if under the pretext of protection from terrorist attacks.  But the broad historical conflicts of claiming Jerusalem as a Jewish city–even in the face of a Palestinian majority presence–and ruling it as a sovereign part of a Jewish state, rather than one the acknowledges its multiple ethnicities, conceals the tortured relation to place that is the result of denying any voice to its original inhabitants.

Building the boundary reminds us of the existential quality to any line of partition, and the deep effects with which it immediately effects the place and its inhabitants.  The wall, one might say, stares back at the man, sheer concrete without any sense of history or human habitateion, to protect the area extending past the Green Line as if to fix its future movement in the historically shifting map in stable terms.  This unstable map–which seems poised to be shifted once again, for national gain, in the 2017 annexation of the new construct of “Greater Jerusalem” including settlements along the West Bank, transforming a place previously without integrity to fulfill a prophecy of the “expansion” of the city as a part of the Jewish state, using a term of false if apparent neutrality to conveniently conceal and not account for the historical presence Palestinian inhabitants of the same place.

The wall is a remapping of history, and human habitation, after all, and a defense of claims by the Israeli state, built as if concretizing a timeless prophecy, and built as a timeless construction.  The remapping of space and the space of Jerusalem seems the subject of the e classic novel of A.B. Yehoshua about six generations of a Jerusalem family whose intent to throw the immediacy of the current conflict into historical relief continues to have bearing on the apparent absence of population in the retracing of shifting boundaries and the claiming of sovereignty over lands that, in the historical myopia that sees the utter tragedy of dehumanization of the Holocaust–or the condition of statelessness–as the fulcrum for its foundations if not the justification of its existence, but removes its borders and boundaries from history or from the land’s inhabitants, by cartographically declaring it to be an almost timeless truth of territorial advancement and an iconic image without need for an explanatory legend.

Shifting borders.png
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Filed under A. B. Yehoshua, boundary walls, Israel, Jerusalem, national maps

Sacred Toponymy Matters: the Territory in the Map

In very few cases are the associations of place-names so powerfully resonant as in those that derive from a biblical frame of reference:  they speak across time, in a powerfully incantatory way, unveiling a sense of space in maps, and claims to that spatial jurisdiction.  Palestinians ruefully note that Jews–or Israelis—live in ruins, the myth of their past inhabitation inhabits the present through place-names on a map, and on a scribal map, as it were, that underlies the most sophisticated GPS claims to boundaries: if geopolitical boundaries are determined by hexadecimal coordinates of GPS in current treaties, textbook maps in the Israeli courses of Civics frame the territories won in the 1967 Six-Day War as a historical geography of liberation of lands in the West Bank that fulfill “a return to Judea and Samaria, areas where our patriarchs and matriarchs lived” and “where the Kingdom of David and Solomon was established.” The regions are identified as physical loci of collective memory, and indeed invested with elevated status as places to almost sublime transcendence of contemporary politics as constituting “the heart of the Jewish people,” more than contested lands. Such textbooks that instruct readers that “already in the Bible period, Jews lived in this area, and the Bible . . . this is where the patriarchs and matriarchs were buried,” evoking the lands and boundaries Jews gained as a people set forth in the Book of Numbers not as modern, but confirmation of expansion of the nation’s borders concluding a sacred narrative of the establishment of Biblical era, rather even if it is inhabited by Palestinians.

Such maps fulfill especially pernicious ends in failing to orient Israeli students to the world in which they live. One can find “Judea” and “Samaria” in books of Genesis and Joshua point to the Jewish presence in the region–although I first heard them referred to as places in the current world was when I moved into a condominium in Los Angeles’ Fairfax district, and was told by my neighbor Clara Markowicz that her husband was born in Judea, coming home with cans of goods she requested as I heard, in the stairway, of a region I had to ask as Israeli friend to clarify after I had brought her several bags of groceries in a gesture of neighborliness. The region had a concreteness in her mind as a birthplace, of almost mythic stature; the foundation of settlements that were often military outposts that became residential rapidly expanded as they were established after a pioneering rabbi founded a local yeshiva that seeded the settlement in the collective imaginary on a scriptural foundation that would later gain sovereign status within the rapidly changing arial map of “Israel” as a nation.

Local toponymy is rarely so transparently or so powerfully painted on a cartographical canvas to evoke of narratives of collective memory as in maps of the Holy Land, designed to orient readers to a sacred space, as much as within a territory–and to confirm the elision between past and present by the magical condensation of space that cartographic conventions allow. Although many of the best-known maps of the regions are reconstructions, the location of holy sites as Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Jericho, Caeserea or Mt. Sinai create points of entrance, more powerfully than siting points, for plotting multiple master-narratives across a historical gulf and spanning different epochs; the map is alternately the container and the field, the historical synthesis, but also the screen: Israeli annexation of 40% of the West Bank anticipates how a Trump plan would “turn temporary occupation into permanent occupation” over the land God told Moses would “fall to [the people of Israel] for an inheritance . . . in its full extent” in Numbers 34:2-3, as bounded by the “edge of the Salt Sea on the East.”  

The “conceptual map” for “Peace to Prosperity” a vision that Trump issued is proclaimed the “ultimate deal” ensuring sovereign unity of Israel, but proposed a very, very old idea of sovereign boundary lines. It was perhaps encouraged by his own love of borders, the plan pacified evangelical Christians who arrived to be volunteers in settlements and envisioned these new boundaries. Numbers 34:1-10 idealize the very boundaries of Canaan the Lord descibed “as an inheritance” extending to the Dead Sea –“up to the Salt Sea on the East“–as Israel’s territory only expanded to its full extent to the north in the time of King David, rabbis realized Pro-Israel evangelicals, skilled in the territorial visualization and eschatology, deferred questions of residents, wondering at living beside folk not sharing faith and lifestyle in the Holy Land–as strategic allies over the long term. If President Trump would be able to mimic the God-granted boundaries in his “vision” of the State of Israel that annexes land far beyond the current security barrier, and demilitarizes the West Bank by annexing some 40% outright, the sovereign expansion to include all settlements whose legality in international law has been intensely debated for over fifty years, but often reassessed “in light of new realities on the ground.”

The redrawing of the settlements on occupied land would be included in the “greater map” of Israel proposed, which demands interpretation against the deeper symbolic map sketched in Biblical pronouncements, rather than being defined by the new authority of GPS coordinates in international law:

Vision for Peace: Conceptual Map, January 28 2020

The power of such potent toponymy mark place by offering access to a sacred space, in ways that illustrate the dual deictic functions all maps have of showing or making present and of conjuring narratives.  So evocative is the verbal map of the region in scriptures that the map they help to weave and any later maps that respond to this image create a place where time collapses–where the present is poised to dissolve into the past. Current plan s for Israeli annexation of the West Bank in July 2020, given the green light by the Trump administration and the dauphin Jared Kushner, absorbing areas control by the Palestinian Authority and annexing areas all the way to the River Jordan, absorb regions now militarily ruled by Israel with a semblance or presence of local autonomy–“belligerent occupation” denotes more of a stalemate than peaceful accord–uniting areas populated by Israeli settlers into a single territorial unity and sovereign identity.

In one sense, the new announcement of annexation was a map of annexation issued by the Israeli government. But if the Netanyahu government announced it, the winking go-ahead was already announced in the “conceptual map” unveiled in Washington, D.C. by Trump January 28, 2020, by a U.S. President still in denial about reports he had received about the threat of a global pandemic emerging at brisk rates in China, already detected by the week previous by public health agencies in the United States, related to travel from China.

Can the characterization of this geopolitical map of expanded boundaries as a “vision” conceal the pandering to evangelical audiences of promoting a newly expanded Israeli territory? The deception of the map as a “vision of peace” echoed visionary maps of the Holy Land, long dear to evangelicals, as if to curry wishes of American Evangelical communities, and the hurried announcement seemed to solidify the map’s borders in the public imaginary, before the pandemic spread. The map that unifies the state of Israel with the Gaza Strip and West Bank, integrating the new infrastructure of an underground tunnel running between the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, seemed to suggest ready access from Beersheba to the Dead Sea, without having to pass through checkpoints,–and incorporate what were long deemed illegal redouts of “Israeli enclave communities” to a united and harmonious geopolitical unit, relegating the entire idea of a divided Jerusalem to the remote past, beneath the feet of Walter Benjamin’s Angel of History, and enshrining a non-contiguous Palestine: the prominence of these “new towns” on the map, in exchange for a freeze in future settlements–reversing a longstanding American opposition to West Bank settlements by a single map of new toponyms in the Samarian mountains, as Har Barakha, consolidated from Palestinian villages.

Vision for Peace Conceptual Map (detail)

The powerful biblical narrative of inheritance is so imbricated with the political map, so self-consciously entangled are map and text, or sacred toponym and physical space. Perhaps only a map can create such an entangled union that is presented as objective, or trick the viewer to read entanglement as objectivity. If the Old Testament discussed military maps, administrative maps, and historical maps, these were written, instead of drawn.  Reading the Pentateuch or New Testament extends an invitation to organize an image of regional coherence absent in the Hebrew or Christian Bible, however, and in a society where maps were increasingly familiar medium of information, they offered a powerful poetic and increasingly a polemic means to create a palpable present for readers of scriptures even when they were–or perhaps especially because they were–both physically and geographically removed from the region and the very space that they described, but preserved in a different space of the book, and through it into the very different register of collective consciousness.

Maps drawn of Palestine and of biblical history combine the ostensive functions of displaying place (showing) with the connotative functions of map signs to make present a landscape that was perhaps never seen as such:  in so doing, they show readers where they might be, and offer a map that corresponds to their reading of sacred narrative, and indeed of giving enargaic power to that narrative in the present.  But they are most powerful examples of a form of “distanced reading,” around which one can weave multiple narratives about the territory, or narratives of pilgrimage and sacred visitation, without necessarily going there and visiting the very sites that the maps situate before the viewer.  For the particular power of maps of the Holy Land lies in how they offer the possibility for a reader to enter the narratives as much as they provide a description of space.  When the most familiar verbal map of Canaan–“from Dan to Ber-sheba” (2 Sam. 24:2)–created a very loosely defined region, it allowed viewers to enter the specific sites it described.  Drawn maps served to frame the pilgrimage across and intellectual inhabitation of a region and emplot specific events for viewers who become, even when physically removed from the region, vicarious witnesses to an always-present Holy Land.

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