Israeli Censorship of Arab Publications

A survey directed by Meron Benvenisti. New York: The Fund For Free Expression, 1983. 167 pp. $10.00 (paperback)

Reviewed by Lawrence Mosher

On January 16, 1983, the weekly Arabic newspaper al Shira'a reported a story that would never be read. The story said that students in Ramallah, a Palestinian town north of Jerusalem, demonstrated against the Israeli invasion of Lebanon. The students, the article reported, burned tires, displayed the Palestinian flag and threw stones at Israeli military vehicles, damaging several windshields.

The story was never published because it was struck out by the Israeli military censor. Al Shira'a, as required, did not indicate that military censorship had taken place. Since 1967, when the West Bank press came under Israeli control, military censorship has become not just a way of life. Rather, it has evolved into an increasingly bizarre battleground of words.

Cat and Mouse?

The occupying power, Israel, could eliminate the entire Palestinian press if it chose. But it doesn't. The Palestinian reporters and editors who live under the Israeli occupation could choose to live more amicably with the Israeli military government's press rules. But they don't. The result is the maintenance of a high state of tension between the rulers and the ruled that one Arab editor calls "a game of cat and mouse."

It is possible for the Arab press to conduct the struggle, he says, because "there are narrow margins between what the occupation wants for us and what we want. Within those narrow margins we emphasize national institutions and activities and we fight against actions which contradict it."

This is the nub of an arresting survey called Israeli Censorship of Arab Publications, written by Israeli scholar Meron Benvenisti.

Benvenisti says the censorship in the West Bank and Gaza is a futile effort because of the increasing ability of Arab radio and television to reach the Arab audiences. "Despite the pervasiveness of censorship, the censors—like their counterparts through history—are fighting a losing battle."

Today Jerusalem has 3 dailies, 5 weeklies, 4 biweeklies and monthlies, and a number of other publications that appear irregularly. The leader is al-Quds with a circulation reaching 15,000. Al-Fajr follows with 5,000, and then al-Sha'ab with 3,000.

Local news dominates the Palestinian press, with 60 percent of the space given to West Bank and Gaza coverage. Israeli internal matters get 30 percent and the remaining ten percent goes to international news. The choice and manner of news presentation, however, is characterized by what Benvenisti calls "advocacy journalism," which even extends to their advertisements.

The Palestinian press, Benvenisti reports, emphasizes through its choice of news and wordage Palestinian self-determination, preservation of national identity and "steadfastness" under Israeli occupation. The Israeli censors, on the other hand, attempt to suppress these concepts.

If there is a flaw in the author's presentation of the censorship issues, however, it is the implication he makes throughout his study that the war over words, like the larger conflict it reflects, is a real contest. It is not, of course. What we see (and don't see) in the Palestinian press offers only the illusion of a real fight; such is the power of words. And this is precisely why the Israeli government allows the Arab press to exist at all. It is in the occupying power's interest to subdue the population by allowing it the illusion of identity while denying it any real vestige of nationality.

Benvenisti admits that Israeli censors frequently do close down newspapers temporarily. One newspaper, he reports, had more than half its news stories either fully or partially censored in 1982. Of 1,077 items submitted to the military censor, 367 were banned outright and 214 were partially banned.

The author also calls book censorship in the occupied West Bank and Gaza "heavyhanded." More than 1,600 titles had been prohibited until New York Times columnist Anthony Lewis disclosed that one of the censored volumes was George Orwell's 1984.

Unequal Contest

And the author does admit at one point that this struggle is being waged "between unequal adversaries." The censor "uses his absolute power against a defenseless and frail group of dedicated journalists," he writes. But then he jumps to the unwarranted conclusion that "the outcome of the struggle is far from decided" because "the censor's fight is a losing battle. His predecessors throughout history discovered that it is impossible, in the long run, to stifle freedom of expression."

In that telling comment, Benvenisti reveals the basic contradiction that haunts his nation and disturbs its more sensitive souls. The "cat and mouse" metaphor apparently appeals to Benvenisti because it implies that the mouse has the chance to win by running away. But in the West Bank and Gaza, none of the mice are running. Eventually, the censorship war will have to end by either freeing the mice or killing them. But that is an untenable choice for most Israelis, so the contradictions of occupation continue unresolved.

Lawrence Mosher is a staff correspondent for the National Journal.