Abdellali Hajjat, The Wretched of France: The 1983 March for Equality and Against Racism (New Texts Out Now)

Abdellali Hajjat, The Wretched of France: The 1983 March for Equality and Against Racism (New Texts Out Now)

Abdellali Hajjat, The Wretched of France: The 1983 March for Equality and Against Racism (New Texts Out Now)

By : Abdellali Hajjat

Abdellali Hajjat, The Wretched of France: The 1983 March for Equality and Against Racism (Bloomington, Indiana University Press, 2022).

Jadaliyya (J): What made you write this book?

Abdellali Hajjat (AH): While the 1983 March for Equality and Against Racism is a central event in the history of immigration and anti-racism in France, I only became aware of it when I was a student in the early 2000s. This knowledge was not acquired in university lecture halls, but during a public conference organized by activists in Lyon on the history of immigrants’ struggles. The discrepancy between the historical importance of the event and the ignorance of its existence, even among postcolonial immigration families, shocked me and led me to conduct research on the march. In my earlier book, Immigration postcoloniale et mémoire (L'Harmattan, 2005), I first tried to understand why the transmission of the memory of the march had not worked. I did this by shedding light on the symbolic violence of the majority/minority relationship in contemporary France and by forging the concept of injunction to assimilate—a moral and symbolic obligation to conform to the French cultural order, which involves forgetting history. Then I realized that the historical facts of this mobilization were not well known and that a book was needed to go into the details of its history. The march had been the subject of analyses and testimonies of militant and political actors, but not of empirically based scientific research. The Wretched of France is therefore the first socio-historical research on the event, based on original archives and interviews. My aim was to write the history of the defeated, the wretched, the invisible—those who are often denied the ability to act and to make history.

... my book seeks to explain the conditions of possibility for the two rebellions and the transition from a mode of action dominated by rioting to a nonviolent mode of action ...

J: What particular topics, issues, and literatures does the book address? 

AH: As a contribution to the socio-history of postcolonial France, the book addresses many topics:  urban rebellions, working classes, racism, anti-racist mobilizations, racist counter-mobilizations, and national memory. It raises and addresses important sociological and historical questions, such as: why and how do people rebel against police brutality? Is rioting not political and is it so different from demonstrating? How do stigmatized groups face stigmatization through anti-racist mobilization? How can anti-racist mobilization be successful despite that stigmatization? What kind of alliance is needed to gather thousands of people across the color line in an anti-racist demonstration? How do local and national authorities react to the demands of racial justice? And many more. 

The book seeks to understand the conditions of possibility for the March for Equality and Against Racism, led by a small group of young North African immigrants and their French supporters, from Marseille to Paris, between 15 October and 3 December 1983. It analyzes its genesis (in the urban riots of the 1970s), its course, its social and political impact, and its place in collective memory. It seeks not only to understand how young men of North African origin from Les Minguettes neighborhood in Vénissieux (Rhône department, suburb of Lyon), one of the most stigmatized groups in France, were able to mobilize more than one hundred thousand people in Paris to denounce police violence and everyday racism, but also to study the reasons why the specific demands of the marchers, which are still relevant today, were not met by the French political authorities. 

This required returning to the origins of the social tensions that preceded the march by analyzing the “internal class struggle” within the working class of Les Minguettes. This neighborhood was a veritable laboratory where the relations between the stabilized working class (professional workers and employees) and the precarious working class (unskilled workers and unemployed young people) gradually deteriorated in the 1970s. In a context of economic crisis and rising youth unemployment, the exacerbation of social tensions was the result of a complex social process linked to the ways the apartment blocks were filled with tenants, the phenomenon of residential mobility, the discriminatory policy behind the allocation of social housing, the logic of social and ethnic segregation, and the crisis in the way working-class youth were monitored.

These transformations in the social space of Les Minguettes favored conflicts between the wealthiest sections of the working classes and the gangs of young children of skilled workers who constituted the pool of rebels in 1981 and 1983. In the summer of 1981, hundreds of young people defied the police and took part in an urban rebellion, which became a symbol of the “suburban crisis.” On 21 March 1983, a second rebellion took place in Les Minguettes, ending with a demonstration, a hunger strike among young people, and the creation of the association “SOS Avenir Minguettes.”

Through a detailed analysis of the local configuration, my book seeks to explain the conditions of possibility for the two rebellions and the transition from a mode of action dominated by rioting to a nonviolent mode of action, challenging the classic opposition between “political” and “proto-political” repertoires of action. The organization of the Monmousseau residents was part of an unequal balance of power between them on the one hand and the police forces and the Communist municipality of Vénissieux led by Marcel Houël on the other. The great difficulty the police had in acknowledging police brutality, and the political stakes of the ongoing dispute between young people in the lower-income neighborhoods and the state authorities (municipality, police, and judiciary), needed to be explained by analyzing the ideological underpinnings of the “fear of rebellion.” 

The study of the very local situation in Les Minguettes thus gives readers a better grasp of the appeal launched by SOS Avenir Minguettes and the Christian organization La Cimade to organize a “March for Equality.” After being shot and wounded by a policeman, Toumi Djaïdja, president of SOS Avenir Minguettes, suggested from his hospital bed that one way out of the local deadlock would be to copy the marches undertaken by Indians demanding their independence and African Americans demanding their civil rights. As they set off from Marseille, the marchers were far from imagining the final success of their collective action. So, the book explains the reasons for the success of the anti-racist movement, highlighting the unlikely alliance between young people from SOS Avenir Minguettes, La Cimade in Lyon, support associations, youth immigrants, certain members of the Socialist government, and certain journalists. If the anti-racist unanimity forged by the march should not obscure certain ambiguities, it is undeniable that it favored a sort of “May 1968” for the children of postcolonial immigrants by means of a generalized prise de parole.

Finally, the book studies the march as an object of memory, since the commemorations of the event are highly revealing of the social and racial tensions in contemporary France.

J: How does this book connect to and/or depart from your previous work?

AH: After Immigration postcoloniale et mémoire, published in 2005, I continued my academic studies by focusing on another part of the history of postcolonial mobilizations, the Arab Workers' Movement (1972-1976), which played a central role in the emergence of the immigrant and anti-racist cause in France. Then, with Ahmed Boubeker, I co-edited Histoire politique des immigrations (post)coloniale, France 1920-2005 (Editions Amsterdam, 2008), which offers for the first time a general overview of postcolonial mobilizations. I returned to the March for Equality and Against Racism in 2008, as part of the French National Research Agency “Genrebellion” project directed by the historian Michelle Zancarini-Fournel at the Ecole normale supérieure de Lyon. The book is therefore a continuation of my previous work on writing the history of the defeated, but it differs in terms of the scale of analysis (from the very local to the national) and historical depth (transformation of the working classes, multiplicity of social and political actors, and so on). 

J: Who do you hope will read this book, and what sort of impact would you like it to have?

AH: I hope the book will be of interest to academics, students, activists, and any English-speaking person who wants to learn more about French history in general, and the history of racism and anti-racism in particular. 

J: What other projects are you working on now? 

AH: I am the editor-in-chief of Marronnages: Race & Social Sciences, which is the only French-language academic journal on critical race studies, and co-director, with historian Jocelyne Dakhlia, of the collection “Contrepartie” published by Éditions Amsterdam. I am also involved in several research projects—“ACADISCRI” (on inequalities in the academic world), “HERICOL” (on colonial legacies in Belgium), and “Deradicalizing The City” (on local policies against radicalization)—and I am currently working on a book project entitled Les musulmans ne savent pas aimer: économie morale de l'islamophobie contemporaine.

 

Excerpt from the book (from the Introduction, pp. 2-5) 

The March was (…) an important moment in the history of immigration in France. It symbolized both the immense thirst for equality and the appearance of the children of Maghrebi immigrants in the French public space. For the first time in the history of France, this category of the population was the subject of a positive media and political discourse. Before the March, the figure that most typically represented immigration was an unmarried immigrant worker, without a female partner or any children, exploited at will, barely politicized, and likely to lower the wages of French workers. This image, furthermore, obscured the presence of female immigrants. Also predominant was the image of “North African delinquency,” whether it was located in the working-class districts of Paris, Marseille, or Lyon or in the new suburban social housing districts. In the late 1970s and 1980s, the local and national press had helped racialize the urban rebellions in the Greater Lyon area by creating a reductive image of the racial composition of the White, Black, and Maghrebi rioters, presenting the unrest simplistically as the “race riots” of Arabs and Blacks. The figure of the “city youths” (jeunes de cité) or of “young immigrants” was thus marked by a stigma that was at once racial, class-based, and territorial and was so difficult to escape that many of them went to far as to make their names French or pretended to be Italians so as to have any chance of integrating into social life. The March thus constituted an event in the sense of a “breakdown of intelligibility”: the new immigrant generation was no longer perceived solely from the point of view of a social stigma but valued for what it aspired to—the application of the principles of freedom and equality. 

This reversal from a negative to a positive image may have proved ephemeral and ambiguous, but it owed a great deal to the mode of action used. How were people meant to react when “violent young offenders” stopped throwing street cobbles, as in Paris in 1968, and resorted instead to the hunger strike and the peaceful march? Although going on a march was not a new mode of action, it marked a break in the history of social movements in France because of the nature of its actors (children of immigrants) and its social and political stakes (conditions in the suburbs, and racism). Until then, immigrant and anti-racist movements had favored other modes of action such as strikes, demonstrations, rallies, hunger strikes, concerts, and cultural festivals. Organizing a march through France was objectively dangerous for the physical integrity of marchers of Maghrebi origin, who had to show courage in the face of the unknown—a racist unknown. This fear was not unjustified: several incidents occurred on the 1983 march that could have involved bloodshed. But this is the very meaning of nonviolent action. A hunger strike is a violent action against oneself; and the same applies, to a lesser extent, to a march. In both cases, the lives of militants are put at risk, placed in the hands of the political actors to whom their demands are addressed; and these actors thus become responsible for any eventual physical hurt. Individual oppressed bodies, having been the objects of racist violence, now become political subjects—nonviolent human weapons against the dehumanization of young Maghrebi immigrants. 

If this march into the unknown was an important event, the reason also lay in the highly unlikely alliance forged between “city youths” (a particularly harshly stigmatized group), anti-racist Christian activists, and several government officials who were in favor of the demands for equality. This was all the more unlikely because it was a one-off in the history of France. In this sense, the March was a resurgence, perhaps one of the last resurgences, of the wind of change of May–June 1968. Indeed, the “crisis of consent” of the 1968 unrest had radically altered the space of mobilization, blurring the boundaries between social groups and destabilizing the multiple forms of domination incarnated by the institutions of social control (businesses, schools, universities, police, prisons, hospitals, etc.). May–June 1968 marked a “de-sectorization” of French society that allowed unlikely alliances to be created between social groups that had previously been unaware of one another; the political effects of these groupings persisted for several years. In the 1970s, immigrant movements such as the MTA allied themselves with renowned intellectuals such as Jean-Paul Sartre and Michel Foucault, French trade unionists, and worker priests promoting a theology of social justice. Today, what professor at the Collège de France would distribute leaflets on behalf of illegal immigrants? The unlikely alliance that made the March possible was the continuation of a long tradition of support for the struggles of immigrant workers, embodied by the increasing number of “reception committees” that greeted the March throughout France and without which the marchers simply would not have managed to keep going for a single day. The unlikely alliance demonstrated the existence and mobilization of an “anti-racist France” ready to confront a “racist France” manifested by the first electoral successes of the far-right party, the National Front, in the local elections of 1983. 

Thus, the conditions favorable to the existence of the March enabled a large-scale national mobilization. It is therefore not surprising that the March was a veritable turning point for a new generation of immigrant activists. The heyday of the first-generation militants who arrived in the 1960s or 1970s came when they organized the “strikes against racism” of 1973 and the hunger strikes of the illegal immigrants of the 1970s. Some of them continued to be active in such Maghrebi workers’ bodies as the Association des travailleurs maghrébins de France, the Union des travailleurs immigrés tunisiens, and the Maison des travailleurs immigrés, while others embarked on the task of promoting immigrants’ memories (Génériques) or worked for the press, both general (Libération) and specialized (Sans frontière). They opened spaces in which the children of immi- grants born in the early 1960s were able to form political groups and build their own movements long before the March of 1983; these included Zaama d’Banlieue and Rock against Police. But these movements of young immigrants remained scattered and unaware of one another’s existence until the March brought them together. It thus in a way became the moment of crystallization of a whole new generation of militants of immigrant origin, marking the birth of the so-called Beur movement. These militants, with their different trajectories, included both men and women (women were actually predominant in the leadership); they met in the committees set up to welcome the March, and these committees became open forums for discussing racism. Another connection with May–June 1968—a period marked, according to Michel de Certeau, by the capture of speech (“prise de parole”) of the dominated—lay in the way the March represented a real liberation for the speech of the children of immigrants, now able for the first time to express their experiences of racism to attentive listeners in public without fear of a racist backlash. 

However, the March also turned out to be a paradoxical moment in which the anti-racist movement became both united and divided. The thirty militants who left Marseille on October 15, 1983, could not have imagined that the final demonstration on December 3 in Paris would bring together more than one hundred thousand people, both French and immigrants, of all ages, all social classes, and all faiths, from the left but also from the “social right.” The images of the demonstration broadcast on television gave a real thrill to anyone with an anti-racist turn of mind—the jovial atmosphere of the colorful processions, the political determination of the demonstrators, the highly inventive slogans, the powerful presence of victims’ families, and above all the mass of those physical bodies all crammed together between the beginning and the end of the procession created the impression of a real anti-racist upsurge and the feeling that “things have changed for good,” suggesting that this was an event capable of tilting the political balance in favor of anti-racist public action. Hadn’t the Washington March contributed to the passing of the 1964 and 1965 acts abolishing legal segregation against African Americans and guaranteeing their right to vote? In the France of the 2010s, how likely is it that “city youths” will be invited to meet the president at the Palais de l’Élysée after a demonstration? Not very likely at all. Hence the incredible sense of hope aroused in the marchers when they were welcomed by the French president François Mitterrand in person. 

But once the March was over, certain still-unanswered questions resurfaced, revealing the profound divisions of French society in general and of the anti-racist movement in particular; these divisions did not miraculously disappear after the final demonstration, however triumphant a conclusion it may have been.

New Texts Out Now: Mandy Turner and Cherine Hussein, guest eds. "Israel-Palestine after Oslo: Mapping Transformations in a Time of Deepening Crisis." Special Issue of Conflict, Security & Development

Conflict, Security and Development, Volume 15, No. 5 (December 2015) Special issue: "Israel-Palestine after Oslo: Mapping Transformations in a Time of Deepening Crisis," Guest Editors: Mandy Turner and Cherine Hussein.

Jadaliyya (J): What made you compile this volume?

Mandy Turner (MT): Both the peace process and the two-state solution are dead. Despite more than twenty years of negotiations, Israel’s occupation, colonization and repression continue–and the political and geographical fragmentation of the Palestinian people is proceeding apace.

This is not news, nor is it surprising to any keen observer of the situation. But what is surprising–and thus requires explanation – is the resilience of the Oslo framework and paradigm: both objectively and subjectively. It operates objectively as a straitjacket by trapping Palestinians in economic and security arrangements that are designed to ensure stabilization and will not to lead to sovereignty or a just and sustainable solution. And it operates subjectively as a straitjacket by shutting out discussion of alternative ways of understanding the situation and ways out of the impasse. The persistence of this framework that is focused on conflict management and stabilization, is good for Israel but bad for Palestinians.

The Oslo peace paradigm–of a track-one, elite-level, negotiated two-state solution–is therefore in crisis. And yet it is entirely possible that the current situation could continue for a while longer–particularly given the endorsement and support it enjoys from the major Western donors and the “international community,” as well as the fact that there has been no attempt to develop an alternative. The immediate short-term future is therefore bleak.

Guided by these observations, this special issue sought to undertake two tasks. The first task was to analyze the perceptions underpinning the Oslo framework and paradigm as well as some of the transformations instituted by its implementation: why is it so resilient, what has it created? The second task, which follows on from the first, was then to ask: how can we reframe our understanding of what is happening, what are some potential alternatives, and who is arguing and mobilizing for them?

These questions and themes grew out of a number of conversations with early-career scholars – some based at the Kenyon Institute in East Jerusalem, and some based in the occupied Palestinian territory and elsewhere. These conversations led to two interlinked panels at the International Studies Association annual convention in Toronto, Canada, in March 2014. To have two panels accepted on “conflict transformation and resistance in Palestine” at such a conventional international relations conference with (at the time unknown) early-career scholars is no mean feat. The large and engaged audience we received at these panels – with some very established names coming along (one of whom contributed to this special issue) – convinced us that this new stream of scholars and scholarship should have an outlet.  

J: What particular topics, issues, and literatures do the articles address?

MT: The first half of the special issue analyzes how certain problematic assumptions shaped the Oslo framework, and how the Oslo framework in turn shaped the political, economic and territorial landscape.

Virginia Tilley’s article focuses on the paradigm of conflict resolution upon which the Oslo Accords were based, and calls for a re-evaluation of what she argues are the two interlinked central principles underpinning its worldview: internationally accepted notions of Israeli sovereignty; and the internationally accepted idea that the “conflict” is essentially one between two peoples–the “Palestinian people” and the “Jewish people”. Through her critical interrogation of these two “common sense” principles, Tilley proposes that the “conflict” be reinterpreted as an example of settler colonialism, and, as a result of this, recommends an alternative conflict resolution model based on a paradigm shift away from an ethno-nationalist division of the polity towards a civic model of the nation.

Tariq Dana unpacks another central plank of the Oslo paradigm–that of promoting economic relations between Israel and the OPT. He analyses this through the prism of “economic peace” (particularly the recent revival of theories of “capitalist peace”), whose underlying assumptions are predicated on the perceived superiority of economic approaches over political approaches to resolving conflict. Dana argues that there is a symbiosis between Israeli strategies of “economic peace” and recent Palestinian “statebuilding strategies” (referred to as Fayyadism), and that both operate as a form of pacification and control because economic cooperation leaves the colonial relationship unchallenged.

The political landscape in the OPT has been transformed by the Oslo paradigm, particularly by the creation of the Palestinian Authority (PA). Alaa Tartir therefore analyses the basis, agenda and trajectory of the PA, particularly its post-2007 state building strategy. By focusing on the issue of local legitimacy and accountability, and based on fieldwork in two sites in the occupied West Bank (Balata and Jenin refugee camps), Tartir concludes that the main impact of the creation of the PA on ordinary people’s lives has been the strengthening of authoritarian control and the hijacking of any meaningful visions of Palestinian liberation.

The origin of the administrative division between the West Bank and Gaza Strip is the focus of Tareq Baconi’s article. He charts how Hamas’s initial opposition to the Oslo Accords and the PA was transformed over time, leading to its participation (and success) in the 2006 legislative elections. Baconi argues that it was the perceived demise of the peace process following the collapse of the Camp David discussions that facilitated this change. But this set Hamas on a collision course with Israel and the international community, which ultimately led to the conflict between Hamas and Fateh, and the administrative division, which continues to exist.

The special issue thereafter focuses, in the second section, on alternatives and resistance to Oslo’s transformations.

Cherine Hussein’s article charts the re-emergence of the single-state idea in opposition to the processes of separation unleashed ideologically and practically that were codified in the Oslo Accords. Analysing it as both a movement of resistance and as a political alternative to Oslo, while recognizing that it is currently largely a movement of intellectuals (particularly of diaspora Palestinians and Israelis), Hussein takes seriously its claim to be a more just and liberating alternative to the two-state solution.

My article highlights the work of a small but dedicated group of anti-Zionist Jewish-Israeli activists involved in two groups: Zochrot and Boycott from Within. Both groups emerged in the post-Second Intifada period, which was marked by deep disillusionment with the Oslo paradigm. This article unpacks the alternative – albeit marginalized – analysis, solution and route to peace proposed by these groups through the application of three concepts: hegemony, counter-hegemony and praxis. The solution, argue the activists, lies in Israel-Palestine going through a process of de-Zionization and decolonization, and the process of achieving this lies in actions in solidarity with Palestinians.

This type of solidarity action is the focus of the final article by Suzanne Morrison, who analyses the “We Divest” campaign, which is the largest divestment campaign in the US and forms part of the wider Palestinian Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement. Through attention to their activities and language, Morrison shows how “We Divest”, with its networked, decentralized, grassroots and horizontal structure, represents a new way of challenging Israel’s occupation and the suppression of Palestinian rights.

The two parts of the special issue are symbiotic: the critique and alternative perspectives analyzed in part two are responses to the issues and problems identified in part one.

J: How does this volume connect to and/or depart from your previous work?

MT: My work focuses on the political economy of donor intervention (which falls under the rubric of “peacebuilding”) in the OPT, particularly a critique of the Oslo peace paradigm and framework. This is a product of my broader conceptual and historical interest in the sociology of intervention as a method of capitalist expansion and imperial control (as explored in “The Politics of International Intervention: the Tyranny of Peace”, co-edited with Florian Kuhn, Routledge, 2016), and how post-conflict peacebuilding and development agendas are part of this (as explored in “Whose Peace: Critical Perspectives on the Political Economy of Peacebuilding”, co-edited with Michael Pugh and Neil Cooper (PalgraveMacmillan, 2008).  

My first book on Palestine (co-edited with Omar Shweiki), Decolonizing Palestinian Political Economy: De-development and Beyond (PalgraveMacmillan, 2014), was a collection of essays by experts in their field, of the political-economic experience of different sections of the Palestinian community. The book, however, aimed to reunite these individual experiences into one historical political-economy narrative of a people experiencing a common theme of dispossession, disenfranchisement and disarticulation. It was guided by the desire to critically assess the utility of the concept of de-development to different sectors and issues–and had a foreword by Sara Roy, the scholar who coined the term, and who was involved in the workshop from which the book emerged.

This co-edited special issue (with Cherine Hussein, who, at the time of the issue construction, was the deputy director of the Kenyon Institute) was therefore the next logical step in my research on Palestine, although my article on Jewish-Israeli anti-Zionists did constitute a slight departure from my usual focus.

J: Who do you hope will read this volume, and what sort of impact would you like it to have?

MT: I would imagine the main audience will be those whose research and political interests lie in Palestine Studies. It is difficult, given the structure of academic publishing – which has become ever more corporate and money grabbing – for research outputs such as this to be accessed by the general public. Only those with access to academic libraries are sure to be able to read it – and this is a travesty, in my opinion. To counteract this commodification of knowledge, we should all provide free access to our outputs through online open source websites such as academia.edu, etc. If academic research is going to have an impact beyond merely providing more material for teaching and background reading for yet more research (which is inaccessible to the general public) then this is essential. Websites such as Jadaliyya are therefore incredibly important.

Having said all that, I am under no illusions about the potential for ANY research on Israel-Palestine to contribute to changing the dynamics of the situation. However, as a collection of excellent analyses conducted by mostly early-career scholars in the field of Palestine studies, I am hopeful that their interesting and new perspectives will be read and digested. 

J: What other projects are you working on now?

MT: I am currently working on an edited volume provisionally entitled From the River to the Sea: Disintegration, Reintegration and Domination in Israel and Palestine. This book is the culmination of a two-year research project funded by the British Academy, which analyzed the impacts of the past twenty years of the Oslo peace framework and paradigm as processes of disintegration, reintegration and domination – and how they have created a new socio-economic and political landscape, which requires new agendas and frameworks. I am also working on a new research project with Tariq Dana at Birzeit University on capital and class in the occupied West Bank.

Excerpt from the Editor’s Note 

[Note: This issue was published in Dec. 2015]

Initially perceived to have inaugurated a new era of hope in the search for peace and justice in Palestine-Israel, the Oslo peace paradigm of a track one, elite-level, negotiated two-state solution is in crisis today, if not completely at an end.

While the major Western donors and the ‘international community’ continue to publicly endorse the Oslo peace paradigm, Israeli and Palestinian political elites have both stepped away from it. The Israeli government has adopted what appears to be an outright rejection of the internationally-accepted end-goal of negotiations, i.e. the emergence of a Palestinian state based on the 1967 borders with East Jerusalem as its capital. In March 2015, in the final days of his re-election campaign, Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, visited the Jewish settlement of Har Homa in Palestinian East Jerusalem, which is regarded as illegal under international law. Reminding its inhabitants that it was him and his Likud government that had established the settlement in 1997 as part of the Israeli state’s vision of a unified indivisible Jerusalem, he promised to expand the construction of settlements in East Jerusalem if re-elected. And in an interview with Israeli news site, NRG, Netanyahu vowed that the prospects of a Palestinian state were non-existent as long as he remained in office. Holding on to the occupied Palestinian territory (oPt), he argued, was necessary to ensure Israel’s security in the context of regional instability and Islamic extremism. It is widely acknowledged that Netanyahu’s emphasis on Israel’s security—against both external and internal enemies—gave him a surprise win in an election he was widely expected to lose.

Despite attempts to backtrack under recognition that the US and European states are critical of this turn in official Israeli state policy, Netanyahu’s promise to bury the two-state solution in favour of a policy of further annexation has become the Israeli government’s official intent, and has been enthusiastically endorsed by leading ministers and key advisers.

[…]

The Palestinian Authority (PA) based in the West Bank also appears to have rejected a key principle of the Oslo peace paradigm—that of bilateral negotiations under the supervision of the US. Despite a herculean effort by US Secretary of State, John Kerry, to bring the two parties to the negotiating table, in response to the lack of movement towards final status issues and continued settlement expansion (amongst other issues), the Palestinian political elite have withdrawn from negotiations and resumed attempts to ‘internationalise the struggle’ by seeking membership of international organisations such as the United Nations (UN), and signing international treaties such as the Rome Statute, the founding treaty of the International Criminal Court. This change of direction is part of a rethink in the PA and PLO’s strategy rooted in wider discussions and debates. The publication of a document by the Palestine Strategy Study Group (PSSG) in August 2008, the production of which involved many members of the Palestinian political elite (and whose recommendations were studiously discussed at the highest levels of the PA and PLO), showed widespread discontent with the bilateral negotiations framework and suggested ways in which Palestinians could ‘regain the initiative’.

[…]

And yet despite these changes in official Palestinian and Israeli political strategies that signal a deepening of the crisis, donors and the ‘international community’ are reluctant to accept the failure of the Oslo peace paradigm. This political myopia has meant the persistence of a framework that is increasingly divorced from the possibility of a just and sustainable peace. It is also acting as an ideological straitjacket by shutting out alternative interpretations. This special issue seeks a way out of this political and intellectual dead end. In pursuit of this, our various contributions undertake what we regard to be two key tasks: first, to critically analyse the perceptions underpinning the Oslo paradigm and the transformations instituted by its implementation; and second, to assess some alternative ways of understanding the situation rooted in new strategies of resistance that have emerged in the context of these transformations in the post-Oslo landscape.

[…]

Taken as a whole, the articles in this special issue aim to ignite conversations on the conflict that are not based within abstracted debates that centre upon the peace process itself—but that begin from within the realities and geographies of both the continually transforming land of Palestine-Israel and the voices, struggles, worldviews and imaginings of the future of the people who presently inhabit it. For it is by highlighting these transformations, and from within these points of beginning, that we believe more hopeful pathways for alternative ways forward can be collectively imagined, articulated, debated and built.