To explain Israel’s policies since the Hamas attack on October 7, 2023, the sociology and psychology of mass atrocities are key. Under Netanyahu’s government, Israel is ultimately a state and society in denial. This is also true of country’s remaining supporters in the world, who allowed the genocide in Gaza to continue until the Trump administration ended it – at least for now.
The late sociologist Stanley Cohen has developed a model that explains how people commit or live with mass atrocities. It defined three kinds of denial: literal (“It didn’t happen”); interpretive (“Something happened, but it wasn’t as bad as it looks”); and implicatory (“It happened, but its implications are different than you think”). These forms of denial are now clearly evident in both Israel and the West.
Literal denial is manifested in the Israeli blockade on the entrance of international journalists into Gaza since war’s outbreak on October 7, 2023. Witnessing by impartial observers is crucial to the flow of knowledge in any armed conflict. In this one, Israel has taken the extreme step of forcing international media to rely exclusively on local journalists and occasional visitors to Gaza, such as medical teams.
In the meantime, it has killed over two hundred journalists in Gaza. This is literally a way of withholding information in the hope that the facts on the ground will be contested.
Gaza civilians constitute “collateral damage” in the war on terror. The problem is that the so-called “collateral” actually represent the bulk of the casualties in this war
Denialist discourse on Gaza is more sophisticated than literal negation, however, as it tends to shift between interpretive and implicatory denial. One example of interpretative denial is the association made between “background diseases” and images of famine in Gaza. In July, a malnourished toddler, Mohammed Zakaria al-Mutawaq, sparked accusations against the New York Times and The Guardian for not informing their readers about the child’s several serious illnesses.
This argument on misrepresentation implies that only the already vulnerable suffer dearly in Gaza. But isn’t it bad enough that this is the situation of sick children?
Part of our mission in the Forum for Regional Thinking is to crack small openings in the walls of denial by presenting testimonies and interpretation from inside Gaza to Hebrew readers.
During the first months of the war, we used WhatsApp voice messages to record a podcast with Laila, a young, displaced Gaza woman who described her daily routine in self-taught Hebrew. Recently, we translated a video by Gazan YouTuber Anwar Nimer documenting his daily routine as he risks his life to obtain food at the deadly aid distribution points in Gaza. Our director, Assaf David, translates testimonies of genocide survivors on his Facebook page into both Hebrew and English.
The implications of statistical killing
The main form of denial is what Cohen defined as implicatory. The case in point is the general framing of the destruction of Gaza as “war”.
Recently, human rights attorney Alon Sapir explained on our website that Israel’s main method of killing in Gaza — namely, classifying a target as legitimate under international law (i.e., identified with Hamas) — is based on a new method Sapir terms “statistical proportionality”. The IDF strikes a target assuming that civilians would be killed, but this assumption is not based on concrete verification (such as observation), but rather on general calculations based on estimates of Gaza’s population density.
Sapir’s observation is critical of Israel’s conduct of the war, but it is also crucial for understanding the role of international law (or norms) in condoning Gaza’s annihilation. What legitimizes Israel’s continued onslaught is the barely conceivable notion that Gaza civilians constitute “collateral damage” in the war on terror. The problem is that the so-called “collateral” actually represent the bulk of the casualties in this war.
The idea that causing as much collateral damage as possible is in fact the purpose of this “war” is reinforced by the recent reemergence of declarations by former Israeli generals, such as ex-IDF chief of staff Herzi Halevi, who told his wife on October 7 that Gaza would be destroyed. Similarly, former Chief of Intelligence Aharon Haliva, explained that fifty thousand dead Palestinians in Gaza would be a “necessary and required response for future generations.”
The program of Trump’s era shifted to the economic realm. Gazans would no longer have to undergo deradicalization, but rather leave voluntarily in exchange for a handful of Bitcoins
Flight of fancy
Denial’s close companion is fantasy. One fantastic notion that has resurfaced since October 7 is “voluntary migration”. Maybe, one day, thousands of planes will land in Gaza and hundreds of thousands of contented inhabitants will board them to start new lives in Somaliland or South Sudan.
The purpose of cultivating this illusion is to argue — precisely at the moment when Gazans are herded at gunpoint into concentration camps — that there is a humanitarian alternative, only someone is throwing a wrench into the works. The establishment of the camps in the Mawasi was, therefore, preventable. Gazans were given an offer, but once again missed an opportunity to miss the opportunity.
The illusion of promoting “voluntary migration” is part of policy programs that Israel and the United States have been exchanging over the past two years. Our research fellow Elitzur Gluck recently read two of these programs and identified the changes in them from Biden’s era to Trump’s.
The first program defined Gaza as part of a regional defense alliance, or a moderate anti-Iran axis, which Gazans would join after undergoing “deradicalization.” The new program abandoned the alliance pipedream that had prevailed under Biden and shifted instead to the economic realm. Gazans would no longer have to undergo deradicalization, but rather leave voluntarily in exchange for a handful of Bitcoins. “The fact that such programs create a ‘mirror world’ reveals”, Gluck concludes, “Israel’s real true intentions.”
In the wake of the ceasefire, it is important to recall that these plans were exactly that – a distorted postcard from a mirror world.
Solidarity against denial
How should one deal with denial? The strength of Stanley Cohen’s thesis lies in the insight that denial is a component of any large-scale act of violence. Since discourse of denial predicts violence, conceals it in real time, and justifies it after the fact, there is little reason to expect it to change through discussion and persuasion.
Denialism forces us to think about the way we collect, analyze, and share knowledge. Dealing with denialism requires more than collecting additional facts, building stronger arguments, or refuting lies. The importance of such practices is self-evident. Rather, we must confront denialism together. Often, it is better to talk with those who wish to listen, rather than with those who insist on arguing. Sometimes it is necessary to persuade the already persuaded.
These initiatives demonstrate to the Hebrew-speaking audience that Palestinian testimonies deserve trust like any others, and perhaps even more so
Collective action is the hallmark of Israeli anti-genocide collectives that have emerged in the past two years. These include “Bearing Witness” by historian Lee Mordechai, which documents the genocide in Gaza; the “Black Flag” movement in Israeli academia; or “Eyes on Gaza,” by lecturers at the University of Haifa. Our colleagues Leena Dallasheh, Dotan Halevy, Shmuel Lederman, and others have contributed to these projects with public lectures online.
The importance of these projects lies in the connection they forge between knowledge, solidarity, and activism. These initiatives demonstrate to the Hebrew-speaking audience that Palestinian testimonies deserve trust like any others, and perhaps even more so. They offer a support network for opponents of genocide, and provide a foundation for joint action — from donations to Gaza’s displaced to calls for international pressure on Israel.
Ultimately, denial minimizes the ceasefire’s likelihood of leading to a solution. The end of the direct killing in Gaza – a welcome relief for everyone between the river and the sea – do not mean that this agreement would bring long-term justice or peace, or even stability. To turn this ceasefire into a meaningful step forward demands tough political work. For peace to last, this will have to include confronting and dismantling the mechanisms of denial. This is a task best undertaken together.
