A four-year-old story about Israeli soldiers' abuse of
innocent Arab villagers was recently shown to be a crude
lie.
Numerous instances of repression were reported by the media
during the intifadah, thanks to left-wing civil rights
activists, among them Palestinian Arabs. As with all sources,
the accuracy of these stories should have been verified, but
the "natural reaction" of secular Israeli journalism was to
believe them. In other words, supposedly veteran journalists
and editors accepted reports without checking into them and
reported them in the press as if they were absolutely
true.
Alternative accounts by given by IDF spokesmen were not
considered reliable; sometimes they were regarded as lies.
Today it is clear that these activists, who succeeded in
harnessing international as well as Israeli media to their
cause, lied many times over -- with the full cooperation of
Israeli newspaper editors. One minor incident which has now
come to life reveals one of the secrets of the intifadah's
success: the media's conspiracy of lies.
This particular episode begins more than four years ago. In
the village of Abud, not far from Ramallah, lived an elderly
Arab, Mahmoud Abed El-Majid, with his eight sons and three
daughters. The Majid family became well-known in the Israeli
press because of a run-in they had with Israeli soldiers.
Here is how the Israeli daily newspaper Ha'aretz,
reported the incident -- which later received worldwide
coverage in the press:
Israeli soldiers entered El-Majid's home, going from room to
room until they found a live rifle bullet in one of the
children's bedrooms. The soldiers confiscated the bullet and
arrested five family members: this in spite of the fact that
the bullet was merely serving as a table decoration.
Ibrahim, in whose room the bullet was found, tried to explain
to the soldiers how the bullet got there. He explained that,
as a repairer of solar boilers, he had plenty of work lately -
- a thinly veiled allusion, to the fact that some Jewish
settlers had the habit of firing into solar boilers of the
villagers as revenge against the stone throwing of the
village youth. Ibrahim, of course, was called upon to repair
the damage. He found the live bullet next to one of the
boilers and took it home for a souvenir, a decoration. Some
would tie such a bullet around their necks, although it was
safer to disassemble the bullet and take out the live
part.
The soldiers refused to accept Ibrahim's explanation. On the
basis of this single bullet, they decided to check that the
house was not an ammunition factory. Bringing heavy
jackhammers and other equipment, they proceeded to destroy
the rooms. They demolished the toilet, the bathtub; broke up
the flooring, cracked the walls, broke doors and furniture.
When they finished, continued the Ha'aretz reporter,
the place looked like a miniature battlefield.
The soldiers abused the family members while they were
conducting their search. That is to say, even though the job
continued for hours, day and night, the family was forced to
stay in one room. They were not allowed to relieve
themselves, not even the small children. The nightmare
finally ended. It turned out that there was no ammunition
factory in the house. The soldiers left and Mahmoud Abed El-
Majid proceeded to make two phone calls:to a property
assessor and to the media.
The assessor estimated that fifteen thousand dollars worth of
damage had been done (this was in 1994) and the media
representative made sure to publicize the incident in
Ha'aretz. This story was one in a series of articles
by that newspaper in its self-appointed mission of guarding
Arab human rights (not those of chareidim). It became part of
Ha'aretz' grave j'accuse against the
"occupation" in general and against the Israeli political
Right in particular.
This was merely the beginning of the story. The soldiers, who
had left El-Majid's house in the afternoon, returned in the
middle of the night and went from house to house in the
village. They woke up all of the men and forced them to
congregate near Mahmoud's house. This was to introduce them
to the new IDF commander.
"I am Captain Moshe El-Majnun (Arabic for crazy)," the
captain introduced himself to the Arabs and warned that he
was aware of the stone throwing incidents and the subversive
graffiti on the walls. "Order will be maintained here," he
announced, and if not, the villagers will shortly find out
that "it is not worthwhile to cross me, since I'm crazy." In
order to emphasize his point, he shot a few bullets into the
air. Following this, he suggested that the men visit El-
Majid's house to see what happens to anyone who has dealings
with "the crazy Captain Moshe."
The villagers were evidently not yet aware of the horrible
things that had been done to Mahmoud's house. They were
shocked to see the damage.
This is how it was reported in Ha'aretz. It is not had
to estimate the impression it left on readers: another proof
of the cruelty of the Israeli occupation and the moral damage
it is doing to the occupiers.
There was only one "small" problem with the story as
reported. It is incomplete as well as untrue.
The newspaper account reached one of the soldiers who had
served in the village and had participated in the search of
El-Majid's house. What he read made him boil with anger. It
was a serious distortion of the facts. But who would listen
to him? As a soldier, he was forbidden to dispute what was
written. This was the job of the IDF spokesman, and the IDF
spokesman, as far as is known, did not react at all to the
article.
Four years later, upon completing his military service, that
soldier called a journalist and this is where our story
begins.
No one would suspect the author of the original article, Tom
Segev, one of the most prominent Israeli journalists, of
harboring excessive sympathy for the IDF nor of a lack of
support for the rights of Arabs. But this time he did
something unusual for Israeli journalism. He met with the
former soldier and later presented a corrected version of the
story to the press. This is how he now tells it:
The soldier said that he had been the one in charge of the
original search of El-Majid's house. The search was a routine
one, as it turns out. What the Arabs "forgot" to report,
however, was that acetone powder was found in the course of
the search -- a material used in the production of explosive
devices. There was no justification for finding such material
in a simple, peace-loving household. In addition, more
equivocal -- but in the context suggestive -- material such
as electric wires, batteries and Hamas literature was also
found.
Ibrahim, Mahmoud's son, was convicted and is still in jail,
serving a ten-year sentence. "The story would never have been
published with even this information," Segev wrote in
Ha'aretz.
The newly-released sergeant proceeded to list more details
that had been left out of the original article. The search
had taken place over a period of several days. The family was
concentrated in one room, but members were allowed to leave
to relieve themselves. Destruction of the house began only
after raw material for explosive devices was discovered.
While the walls were being destroyed the family was taken
outside of the house for their own protection. Additional
explosive material was found at this time.
What about the story about Crazy Captain Moshe? It could have
happened, according to the sergeant, but not the part about
his firing into the air. This was the standard, accepted way
of solders addressing Arab villagers. Some people believe
that force is the only language that Arabs understand.
Naturally, according to experts, Arabs run riot when they
treated with a light hand, especially when supported by the
Israel press.
Hard to believe, Segev admits, that he did not check the
accuracy of the initial story, and the article was published
without being verified!
"The intifadah gained impetus as long as there were
attempts to repress it, until most of the Israeli became sick
and tired of the administered areas. A withdrawal from Gaza
and the cities in Judea and Samaria followed. The press had a
hand in this," notes Segev, evidently with a sense of self-
satisfaction.
"This is a story in itself, not unproblematic. Many attempts
at repression that were published reached the newspapers
thanks to information from human rights activists. Like all
sources, these stories, too, needed verification, but the
natural tendency was to believe the [Arab] citizens."
In other words, this is an admission that during that time,
veteran, experienced reporters and editors accepted Arab
reports without checking, while reports by the IDF were
considered unreliable.
What happened with the El-Majid story at the time it was
originally printed? This time, Segev took the trouble to
check its background, and this is how he tells it:
"I received the story of the demolition of the El-Majid
family home from Bassam Eid, who was an Arab investigator for
B'Tzelem (the Meretz human rights organization)." Israeli
journalists always preferred to believe left-wing activists
and Arabs over the IDF spokesman, who, according to Segev,
"had a lot to lie about in those days."
Segev recently paid a return visit to the village. Mahmoud
Abed El-Majid received him with a warm welcome. Why shouldn't
he? The story of Crazy Captain Moshe had received worldwide
publicity -- even Canada sent a media team.
But during their discussion into the late hours of the night,
additional details came to light that even the former
sergeant hadn't known about. Today there is no reason to hide
them: Ibrahim is not the only member of the family who served
time in prison. Other brothers were also involved in the
explosives business. Abed El-Majid was just recently
released, after serving four and a half years in prison.
Another son got a year's sentence. Mahmoud served seven and a
half months, while Daud was in administrative detention for
six months. Hussein was questioned for forty days. None of
them were as pure and innocent as portrayed in the original
Ha'aretz article and subsequently in the international
press.
The final blow came to Segev as he was sipping his tea, while
the village elders sat sucking their nargillas and arguing
about the details of the four-year-old story. For one thing,
it turns out that they hadn't paid much attention to the
Captain's antics. Why should they? It was a standard formula,
and they thought it was all a joke. It became part of local
folklore.
In the midst of a big argument whether the soldiers had come
at two o'clock or at five, the Israeli journalist found out
that the man who had originally told him the story by
telephone "who was so eager four years ago to tell me the
story in vivid detail, was not even in the village that
night; he was in Jordan when it happened.
"I reprimanded myself," Segev now writes. "I should have
known four years ago that he wasn't an eyewitness. How could
he have known how the soldiers treated the family while they
were all in the living room?"
