Recently my Facebook profile, on which I was connected to around 5000 people, was closed down by Facebook. This has had some impact on my ability to do my job as a researcher and journalist, tho I have since managed to repair much of the damage. However, the process by which the profile was destroyed is interesting and may be informative regarding the practices of Facebook with regard to the issue of freedom of expression on the site.


The last posting which I made on my profile related to recent events in Europe.  I wrote that I considered the wave of terror attacks in Germany and France to indicate that a ‘low level Islamist insurgency’ was now taking place in those countries. A few hours after placing this posting, my account was ‘disabled.’


I wrote to the appropriate Facebook address asking for clarification on this. A few days later, on July 29, I received an email from someone called ‘Justin’ saying:


’We have reviewed your account, and have determined that it is contrary to the Declaration of Rights and Responsibilities of Facebook. Due to the violation of these terms, we have permanently deleted your account.

One of the main priorities of Facebook is the safety of Facebook users. Credible threats to harm others, support for violent organizations or extreme graphic content are not allowed on Facebook.’


I am placing this post here so that readers will be aware of the apparent parameters of free speech at Facebook.


I have never expressed support for ‘violent organizations’ on my page, other than support for the armed forces of the state of which I am a citizen, Israel, and perhaps also a general support for the Kurdish-led, western-backed forces fighting the Sunni jihadis of the Islamic State in Syria and Iraq.


Facebook apparently considers that support for either of these, or expressing the view that a still relatively small-scale Islamist insurgency is taking place in Europe, constitutes a threat to the ‘safety of Facebook users.’ This is, I think, a point of some significance.


In any case, I want also to hereby apologize to any contacts who thought I had for some reason or another removed or blocked them. This was not the case and I invite them to connect to my re-constituted page. Regarding the broader implications of all this, it as a matter of grave concern that a private company that to a great extent now controls the ‘means of representation’ on the Internet is apparently practicing a form of censorship, ensuring that certain views cannot be expressed in what has become a vital forum for the public conversation.

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Syrian Insurgency Persists Despite Divisions


My article at Janes Intelligence Review on the rebellion in North west Syria can be accessed here:  http://www.janes.com/article/62756/syrian-insurgency-persists-despite-divisions

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The Syrian Rebellion in its Sixth Year

Jerusalem Report, 4/8


In June, 2016, I travelled to the border area between Turkey and Syria, in order to interview rebel fighters and leaders.  I was among the first foreign journalists to meet the rebels and visit their first areas of control, all the way back in February 2012.  I wanted to see what had changed and what remained the same.  And in so doing, perhaps also to get a sense of the current balance of power in the Middle East, as seen through the lens of its most bloody and intractable war.


The towns of Gaziantep and Kilis, where I visited, have become centers of  the Syrian refugee population.  The various rebel groups have hunkered down here, making their offices in the echoing apartment blocks of the poorer parts of these cities.  There, they spend their days waiting. With much time on their hands.


The most immediately obvious change is in  the border itself.  In the first couple of years of the war, the Syrian-Turkish border was basically open (except for in the areas facing Syria’s Kurdish population.)   Turkey was a strong supporter of the rebellion.  Its imminent victory was expected.  Ankara in essence turned the border over to the rebels against Assad in the first years.


In those days, the rebels and the many journalists who wanted to write about them crossed over more or less freely.


The border fence was an old and flimsy affair. There were many obliging smugglers’ rings, willing to trace a path through the minefields for a fee.  The Turkish army itself was cheerfully amenable to bribery.


All that is over now.  The journalists for the most part no longer come.  In the course of 2013, the Salafi jihadis entered the picture, bringing with them their hatred of the ‘kuffar’ , the infidel. The kidnappings of journalists soon followed.


In any case, since the emergence of the Islamic State in Syria, interest in the destruction of the Assad regime has waned in the west.  The rebellion itself is dominated by Sunni Islamists. Any notion of it representing the doorway to some better or more representative future for the region has long since departed.


Furthermore, IS and its activities have forced the Turks to recalibrate their position.  From Erdogan’s point of view, IS wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.  The jihadis were keen to challenge the Kurdish nationalists of the PKK and its Syrian franchise.  These were the forces that Ankara was really worried about. But with the commencement of IS’s war against the west, a policy of benign indifference toward the jihadis was no longer possible.  Turkey began to act against the IS presence in the country.  IS hit back – both by shelling the town of Kilis and by activating its cells within Turkey itself, and carrying out the bombing at Ataturk airport in Istanbul on.


As a consequence, the border fence has been revamped, and replaced with a wall along some sections of the frontier.  And the army no longer take bribes.  Anyone seeking to make a run to or from Syria now faces a good chance of being shot dead (back in 2012, the soldiers used to just fire in the air).


Fragmented revolt


But the nature of the conflict itself has also changed.  There was a moment, in the early days of the rebellion, when it genuinely looked like a popular uprising. This was always perhaps misleading. Today it seems very distant.  There is no longer a single war taking place in Syria.  Rather, the country has fragmented into a variety of interlocking ‘projects’ and conflicts.


As Basam Haji Mustafa of the Islamist Nour al Din al Zenki group put it to me, ‘There are four projects in Syria today: ‘the Assad regime and its allies, the (Kurdish-led, US-supported) Syrian Democratic Forces,  the Islamic State, and the rebellion.’


We were speaking to  Haji Mustafa via Skype, from Gaziantep into besieged Aleppo.  It was just a few days before the regime closed the final exit from the eastern part of the city, the Castello Road.  Yet the Zenki commander remained withering in his contempt for the dictator’s forces.  ‘The regime is no longer an organized force. It is a mixture of many components – Iranians, Lebanese, Iraqis.’


This is a fair appraisal.  As of today, the regime controlled south and west of Syria, the rebel controlled north west, Kurdish controlled north East and Islamic State controlled east all seem fairly secure.  Perhaps only the latter will yet fall, because of western determination that the Islamic state be destroyed.


But the rebels too, even in their own Sunni Arab enclave, are badly divided.


North west Syria today constitutes the last area firmly in the rebellion’s hands.  But the area is sub-divided into three separate areas of operation: these are, the South Aleppo countryside and Idleb Province, the area of eastern Aleppo city, and the small Azaz-Marea pocket, in which the rebels are sandwiched between an Islamic State area and the Kurdish Afrin enclave.


The South Aleppo and Idleb area is by far the largest.  Islamic State is not in this area and the war is fought between the regime and the rebels only.  In this area, the Jaish al-Fatah (Army of Conquest) rebel coalition is dominant.  This coalition is dominated by two Salafi jihadi groups, Jabhat al Nusra and Ahrar al-Sham, and one Muslim Brotherhood inspired militia, Faylaq al Sham (Legion of the Levant).


In Aleppo city, the jihadi groups organized in Jaish al Fatah are present.  But a number of smaller militias also play an important role.  The Aleppo city front is separated from the Syrian-Turkish border by a narrow strip of regime controlled territory.


North of this line of regime controlled territory, in the small Azaz-Marea enclave, the  rebels are engaged in fighting IS.  So far, they have enjoyed only limited success.


The rebels in this area again include representatives of the larger Islamist forces further south.  But non-Islamist forces are more strongly represented here.  The small Mutassim Brigade, a non-Islamist group, has emerged as the favored partner of the US.


So the rebellion in Syria today consists of three interlocking frontlines in which organizations ranging from al-Qaeda’s (now departed) local franchise to US-supported militias are cooperating.


But while a myriad of organizations exist, it is clear that Sunni political Islam of one kind or another is the dominant force.  This should surprise no-one.  The armed rebellion emerged from conservative, Sunni, rural, pious north west Syria.  That it should take on this hue is entirely natural, and predictable.





No strategy for victory


I asked every rebel leader and representative I spoke to if they could conceive some role for Bashar Assad in a transitory phase that would lead to a new Syria.  The reaction was unanimous and predictable.  Assad had to go, as soon as possible.  Yet as Ahmed al Imam, a military commander of the 1st Regiment from Aleppo city told me, ‘We have no clear strategic plan.  The regime is supported by powerful countries, and the allies of the free army are weak.’


The gap between the aspirations of the rebels and their abilities to achieve them are huge, and growing.


Yet at the same time, they do not appear close to defeat.  The Müşterek Operasyon Merkezi (Military Operations Center) is continuing to operate, supplying US weapons to certain, vetted and selected rebel groups.  Saudi Arabia, Turkey and Qatar, meanwhile, maintain their own direct lines of support to Islamist groups not supported by the ‘MOM.’  So weaponry is not about to run out.  The loss of eastern Aleppo in its entirety would represent a disaster for the rebels.


But even then, should Assad seek to retake the entirety of Aleppo and Idleb provinces, he would be faced with the same dilemma which forced him to abandon them in mid-2012 – namely, his absence of sufficient manpower with which to effectively police and hold these areas. These provinces are still inhabited by a Sunni Arab population which completely rejects the dictator.


Also, as al-Imam pointed out, the rebels have no way back.  ‘To be or not to be. We have no choice but to continue.’


On a moral or ethical level, there is nothing particularly to celebrate regarding the Syrian rebels, or their opponents.  A horrifying video uploaded to the internet on July 19h showed rebel fighters of the Nour al-Din al-Zinki movement  decapitating a young child of Palestinian-Syrian origin. The fighters in the video claim that the child was a ‘spy’ and a member of a pro-government militia.


The leadership of Zinki later condemned this act and referred to it as an ‘error.’  But it seems to reflect a context of wider and extensive human rights violations by rebel groups in north west Syria. An Amnesty International report issued in May sets out details of this, including allegations of kidnapping and torture by a number of  groups.


Of course,  such actions notwithstanding, the Assad regime’s attempts to portray itself as an anti-terrorist force remain ludicrous.  As the conflict has progressed, the dictator has become increasingly reliant on Iran-linked militia forces to plug the gaps in manpower.  The Assad regime has anyway, throughout its history, made energetic use of terrorist clients of Sunni, Shia and other loyalties.  What is happening in Syria today with regard to the regime and the rebellion is that two rival forces of sectarian gunmen are clashing.   Yet the Assad regime has been responsible for the vast majority of civilian deaths in Syria over the last five years.


What lies ahead?


So is the Syrian rebellion doomed?  The answer is – probably not.  For all its fragmented nature, it retains lines of support from powerful countries.  There is the ‘MOM’ of course, in Turkey, and its equivalent in Jordan.  But there are also the separate channels of support from Turkey, Qatar and Saudi Arabia to the powerful jihadi and Islamist militias in the north.  It is also notable that large numbers of Sunni Arab Syrians appear to remain willing to volunteer in its ranks and risk their lives in its cause.  This mass of active support has been the rebels’ main advantage throughout the war.  It derives from their hailing from Syria’s single largest community.  It does not appear to have yet been exhausted.


So the rebels can neither win their war, nor can they be completely defeated.  What might this mean for Syria?


With Aleppo surrounded, the rebels may lose their main symbolic territorial asset in the months ahead.  The rebellion’s entry into Aleppo in the summer of 2012 represents its single greatest achievement.  But even if it is lost, the rebels will still hold a large swathe of territory in Aleppo, Idleb, Latakia and northern Hama provinces, where they are still scoring tactical victories against the regime.


Jabhat al-Nusra’s decision in late July to part from the core al-Qaeda network was almost certainly tactical in nature, rather than representing some profound shift in the outlook of this group.  But Nusra has been characterized by a tactical flexibility (in stark contrast to the rival jihadis of Islamic State) since its outset.  The move may well be sufficient to prevent a joint Russian and American counter-terror campaign against the group, which had seemed like an emergent possibility.


What this means is that five years on, the conflict in Syria appears nowhere close to conclusion.  The rebellion – now an entirely Sunni Islamist affair – appears to be set to continue the fight even in the absence of any strategy or even any serious hope of eventual victory.  As Ahmed al-Imam of the 1st Regiment put it to me, ‘the Free Army is surrounded by three enemies (the regime, IS and the Kurds), and we are exhausted.   They have all the energy, we have nothing. ‘


But al-Imam expressed this gloomy prospect before inviting me to join his fighters for a reporting trip into northern Syria (I declined).  The rebellion still holds ground and appears in no immediate prospect of eclipse.


What might be learned regarding the region from this situation?


Firstly, that in the sunni-shia proxy war currently under way, no side has a clear and obvious advantage.  Rather, in Syria, as in Yemen and Iraq, the proxies of the Saudis and other sunni powers  and those of the Iranians appear capable of surviving each other’s assaults, but not of achieving comprehensive victory.


Secondly, that this, combined with the fragmented ethnic and sectarian nature of the countries in question, means that ongoing war of attrition and ongoing division across a large, ruined swathe of the Middle East looks set to remain.



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The Sleepwalkers

PJMedia, 26/7

The terror attacks in Nice, Wurzburg and Normandy are the latest manifestations of what should now be seen as a still fairly low-level Islamist insurgency taking place in a number of west European countries. The fact that this insurgency has been allowed to kindle itself and slowly emerge before now bursting forth represents a profound failure of Western European political culture and of the continent’s elites.

This is not merely a matter of poor police or intelligence work. Rather, it is the culmination of a long process of enfeeblement. The Islamist insurgency is a disease attacking an already weakened body which lacks the means to defend itself.

What has brought about the decline of Western Europe to this point?

In the first instance, of course, one may point to the decision to admit tens of thousands of refugees from the Middle East. It is now clear that a considerable number of the refugees harbor loyalty to the violent Islamist military groups that dominate large parts of Syria. But the more profound question concerns the worldview of the political and intellectual elites in Western Europe who produced this decision. The decision, after all, is just the latest manifestation of a longstanding policy of somnambulance toward the threat of political Islam.
A hollowing-out of European culture has taken place over recent years. The elites of the continent are united by a set of joint perceptions deriving from a shared experience of life. They are transnational, cosmopolitan, skeptical of passionately held belief, reflexively secular. Their shared experience of the world is of a safe place, in which a certain set of attitudes and connections enables life to be lived in a pleasant and free way.

Civilizational conflict, passionate religious ideological commitment, even fervently experienced patriotism do not feature very highly on the elite’s radar. Such sentiments are to be dismissed with a smile, or treated with bewildered fear and apprehension if they appear to be persistent and potent.

This is an elite which takes in representatives of both the traditional European left and center right — social democrats and free market liberals. Indeed, one can easily discern a sort of slightly more leftist and slightly more conservative variation within its basic type. Yes, it is a global elite, with its powerful representatives in the U.S., in Eastern Europe, in Asia and so on — but it is in Western Europe where its influence on culture and on the atmosphere in which policy is made has reached its apogee.

Until recent years — in all major countries of Western Europe — the leading elements in the main political parties, academia, and the mainstream media were clearly representatives of this group.

The problem with this elite is not that they are evil or decadent. It is that their worldview is inadequate to grasp the nature of the time in which they are living. They are an easy generation, made for prosperous times, for the cool management of systems, for times of plenty.

But the times of plenty have gone.

The Middle East is in the midst of a massive historic convulsion. Political Islam, in its many variations, has captured the minds of millions and is now leading to war and state fragmentation in the Middle East. And through the process whereby Mideastern refugees seek to quit the region and enter Europe, these ideas enter Europe, carried by some of the young men making their way behind the walls, like a plague bacillus.

The result is the current insurgency. It is erupting out of parts of the society untouched and undreamt of by the elite.
The response is denial. Ways are found to maintain that the insurgents are not in fact Islamists or jihadis at all.

Absurdly high levels of knowledge and religious commitment are required for the perpetrator to be considered an Islamist, as if such knowledge tests were ever demanded in ascertaining the affiliation of terrorists past.

Mohammed Lahouaiyej Bouhlel drives a truck into a crowd of passersby screaming “Allahu Akbar”? This is found to have nothing to do with Islam because of his poor record of mosque attendance. And so on. It would be comical if it were not so serious.

The current European intellectual and political elite is simply not equipped to understand what is taking place. It is utterly unprepared to understand the nature of sectarian holy war; such things are utterly outside of its experience. What is clearly unfolding before their eyes — a largely homegrown Islamist insurgency running on the fuel of ideas coming out of the Middle East — cannot be happening. So it isn’t. Their solution is to block their ears.

Does this mean that Western Europe is doomed and must resign itself to seeing its cities turned permanently into battlegrounds for Islamist insurgency? As things currently appear, the answer is “not necessarily.”

When faced with external threats and tests, cultures can do one of two things.

If they are played out and decadent and old, they can admit defeat. Yet if something of vitality remains, the culture will produce antibodies, alternative voices, and modes of resistance. History is replete with examples of both.

As of now, the growth of voices and political parties outside of the mainstream who are prepared to speak openly about the challenge attests to a residual will to survival in a number of European countries.

However, since the Islamist side is entrenched, well-financed, and full of wild desire for the fight, we should assume that the efforts at resistance will presage not an early return to order, but rather the prospect of further and increased civil strife in Western Europe in the period ahead.

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The Number in the Darkness


On the night of August 9, 2006, our unit was ordered to cross the border and  commence an operation into Marj Ayoun and El Khiam.  It was the conclusion of a period of several days in which we had waited on the border, in the sweltering heat of early August.  Three times the mission had been cancelled.  There would be no fourth cancellation.

As is now clear, these cancellations formed a part of a more general policy of flailing uncertainty which characterized the management of the 2006 Lebanon war from the Israeli side.  However, this has been written about extensively (including by me), and is not my focus here.  I want, rather, to recall the minutiae of a particular incident, which remains in my mind ten years on.

One of the main challenges to armored units across the border at that time was the presence of anti-tank mines, seeded by Hizballah at various points precisely to impede an Israeli advance.  I was particularly apprehensive at the thought of these mines.  The thing that occupied my mind, for some reason, in the days spent waiting to cross the border, was the question as to whether if one hit one of these mines, there would be time to know what had happened before one’s own death, or whether there would simply be a kind of switching off.

To get to the area of Marjayoun, we were required to undertake a slow and systematic journey, in column formation, in the pitch darkness.  The engineers had supposedly plotted a course that would avoid areas where there was a danger of mines.

As the driver of a Merkava 3 tank, my task was fairly simple.  In order to ensure that we remained on course, I needed to make sure that through my episcopes, into the darkness of the night, I could at all times make out the number ‘2’, on the back of our platoon commander’s tank, a few meters ahead of us.  This sounds easy, of course, but in the pitch dark, and through the rough and uneven countryside of south Lebanon, it was a task not without the possibility of complication.

The problem was not in the particular difficulty of the task, but rather in the potentially serious implications of failing to carry it out.  If we veered off course, this would mean we would be drifting blindly through the countryside and the blackness, far away from any course plotted to ensure our safety, and perhaps in the direction of a mined area.

This was compounded by an additional element – I was at the best of times not an especially good tank driver. And I had in any case taken part in a training exercise on tanks precisely once in the five years preceding our entry into Lebanon that night.

The first fact perhaps requires some additional detail.  Operating tanks, like anything else, is a skill for which some people have an aptitude, and others do not.  A tank is a large machine. Operating it effectively requires a certain base level feel for machinery and its operation and an interest and connection to technical issues.  I possess neither attribute.  I found myself in the tank corps because in my family, if one joins the armed forces, one goes into a frontline unit.  And the infantry units in which I was interested were closed to me because of my poor eyesight.

In any case, as a result of all this, I found myself on that night heading into Lebanon, with a responsibility not only for my own life, but also for three additional men in our crew, and with an uncertainty in my own  ability to carry out the task at hand.

As the hours wore on, we moved, slowly and grindingly, into Lebanon.  There was a sense of having entered an entirely different dimension of reality.  Just the sound of the engine and the crackle of the internal communications.  We could see fires in the distance, lighting up the night at certain points.  At all times, I kept the white symbol in the center of my episcope. Roi’s tank,  number 2, the platoon commander. This was the talisman telling us we were still on course.

Then, suddenly, the symbol disappeared. Nothing but the black expanse in all three episcopes.  I had glanced away for a moment and he must have turned, and now there was nothing.  For a few seconds, we just kept moving.  Maoz, our commander, asked me, as he did every few minutes, ‘is everything ok? Can you see Roi?’  ‘Now I can’t see him,’ I replied.

What was odd about this moment was that I wasn’t especially concerned.  Rather, it struck me as an interesting puzzle that would in a moment make itself clear.  Had we lost him for good, or would the number re-appear?  I had no thoughts at all about the mines or the lives which my own mistake had now potentially placed at risk, alongside my own.  Instead, with my mind blank, I watched the black episcopes intently for a sign that he had reappeared, and that we were still on the course.  Nothing.

After a minute or so, Maoz asked me again, this time with a little more urgency in his voice, ‘Can you see him now?’

‘I can’t see him,’ I said.  ‘Now I can’t see him.’

Then, after about another minute, in the right episcope, very reduced in size, there was the white painted ‘2’ symbol.  ‘Now I see him,’ I said.  We were back on the course.  I felt no particular relief, and mildly admonished myself not to lose him again, which I did not.

I recall this episode because it reminds me of  the way in which death quietly appears in wartime, considers for a moment, and then departs.  It is a process quite without drama, without musical accompaniment, or very great emotion.  It is played in the key of silence, and something very close to banality.

I assume that my own lack of emotion and failure to think very much about the possible implications of my own error at that moment was itself an item of evolutionary worth, the better to keep me focused on the task at hand.  But it also seemed and seems to me to represent a somehow appropriate response to the true scale of things.  This small episode offers a kind of window, a glimpse into some other level of consciousness, a place of stillness which is to be found, perhaps only found, at the very eye of a raging storm.

I realize in writing these words that I am failing to convey the flavor of this, and I am aware that I could write paragraphs more and still fail to do so.  Suffice it therefore to say that much else happened in the 2006 war to myself and my unit, and much of it I am not particularly proud of.  But I have been, since 2006, looking for that particular strand of consciousness that I experienced in the minutes described above.

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Islamic State shifts strategy

Jerusalem Post, 8/7

ISIS’s pretensions to statehood are receding as it loses ground, but the organization is anything but defeated as a recent string of mass terror attacks shows.

The latest wave of bombings by Islamic State confirm a pattern long observed. As it continues to lose ground in its  heartland and its “provinces,” so the organization turns back to an intensified focus on international terrorism. This is
in line with previous experience of international Salafi-jihadi organizations.

Two points need to be noted. First, considerable past experience shows that the destruction of the physical holdings of Salafi-jihadi groups does not mean their eclipse. Second, and more importantly, Salafi-jihadi networks are today part of a broader process – the revival and flourishing of political Islam. To try to understand them otherwise is to misunderstand them. The patterns of survival of earlier networks confirm this.

That the Islamic State “caliphate” is facing eclipse is no longer under serious dispute. It has lost around 47 percent of its territory in Iraq, according to a June 27 statement by Brett McGurk, the US administration’s point man in the fight against Islamic State. The latest loss is the city of Falluja.

In Syria, Islamic State is also contracting, though at a slower rate. Twenty percent of its territory is gone. The US- supported Syrian Democratic Forces is surrounding the town of Manbij close to the Syrian-Turkish border. Its progress has now slowed in the face of two determined Islamic State counterattacks this week, but the siege on the town has not been

In Libya, meanwhile, forces loyal to the UN-appointed Government of National Accord have severely reduced the Islamic State enclave around the city of Sirte. Government forces are now inside Sirte itself, with Islamic State fighters remaining in just three parts of the city.

Western air power and special forces are playing a major, if mainly unannounced, role in the advances against Islamic State in all three countries.

But in the same period, as pretensions to statehood recede, Islamic State is proving its tenacity in a series of terrorist attacks of unprecedented range and ferocity, away from the beleaguered front lines of its territorial holdings.

Most notably, the massive terrorist strike on a Shi’a area of Baghdad, in which 220 people died, represents a clear message that Islamic State is far from neutralized. The slaughter of 22 people in Dhaka, Bangladesh, and the terrorist attack on Ataturk Airport in Istanbul are similar announcements of the movement’s continued vigor.

Add to the roster of Islamic State Ramadan activities the series of attacks in Saudi Arabia – on a US government facility in Jeddah, a Shi’a mosque and a holy site in Medina – and the recent suicide bombings in Aden in which 40 people were killed and for which Islamic State took responsibility.

Finally, the attacks at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando and in the Sarona Market in Tel Aviv appear to have been perpetrated by individuals supportive of Islamic State, though not directly controlled and activated by the movement.

Of course, the wave of attacks in Ramadan reflect a longer trend. Islamic State has effectively been in retreat since its moment of highest expansion in late 2014. What has happened in recent weeks is that the pace of retreat has increased.

We have been here before. The global network of al-Qaida remains in existence and is flourishing. It never proclaimed itself as a caliphate or even as a state. But it did have significant territorial holdings in the pre-2001 period. The expulsion of the group from Sudan and the US invasion of Afghanistan ended these. They did not end al-Qaida.

The network survived, adapted and continued. Today, it remains as important a player as Islamic State in the politics of the Arab world. Its Syrian franchise, Jabhat al-Nusra, is arguably the most effective and sophisticated Salafi-jihadi formation in existence today. Its Yemeni franchise, al-Qaida in the Arabian Peninsula, outperforms Islamic State in that
area and prevents its gaining a foothold.

So any assumption that the physical destruction of Islamic State as a state-type entity will mean the eclipse of the organization should be dismissed. Salafi-jihadi networks have a tendency to overreach themselves and pick fights with enemies too large for them (see September 11, 2001). But the evidence suggests that the reaction this produces leads not
to the destruction of the network but to its adaptation to new circumstances and its continuation.

This brings us to the second point.

It is ‘politically correct’ but factually unsustainable to view the networks of Salafi-jihadi Islamism as belonging to a category separate and sealed off from other elements and trends in political Islam. Islamic State grabs the headlines for obvious reasons, but if we broaden the scope of vision a moment, we will discern Salafi-jihadi movements ideologically identical to Islamic State but tactically different from them, movements that enjoy close relations of cooperation with powerful regional states.

Just west of Islamic State’s domain in Raqqa province in Syria, the most powerful political-military grouping is Jaish al-Fatah (Army of Conquest). This alliance brings together Jabhat al-Nusra and another al-Qaida offshoot, Ahrar al-Sham.
The latter is arguably the most powerful rebel formation in Syria today.

These groupings do not differ in any substantial way from Islamic State in their end goal. And in the case of Nusra, the commitment to and support for international terrorism is identical. Yet Jaish al-Fatah is the recipient of massive aid from Turkey and Saudi Arabia. As a result, far away from the fantasy world of the Geneva talks, Jaish al-Fatah controls a
large swathe of northwest Syria. It is a serious player.

The unseen agencies that work for President Erdogan and King Salman (and Sheikh Tamim of Qatar, though the Qataris matter less these days) handle their countries’ relations with it.

In this area, in turn, Jaish al-Fatah is doing battle with a conglomeration of Shi’a Islamist militias ostensibly representing the Assad regime. The “regime forces” today are themselves better understood as representing a rival, Shi’a Islamist international network, centered on the Islamic Republic of Iran.

So the turning back of Islamic State, and its consequent morphing into an international terrorist group, should not be confused with a major strategic achievement. Islamic State will remain to murder people and crowd the headlines.

More seriously, the energies of political Islam, which have gripped and shaken the life of the Middle East to its very foundations, remain far from spent. In their many manifestations, they are closer to the centers of “legitimate” power
today than at any time in the past.

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Reflections on the Second Lebanon War

(An abridged version of this article appeared in the Jerusalem Post, 23/6)

10 years since the Second Lebanon War.  For those of us who took part in it, that war remains, always just in view. Like a suitcase filled with items of vivid memory, waiting quietly in the corner of a room.

It was an entirely inglorious and partially botched and inconclusive affair.  A ‘great and grave missed opportunity’ as the second report of the Winograd Committee termed it.

It has also been rapidly forgotten. This, it seems, is the way of the small wars that Israel fights these days.  None of them passes into legend, as did the great conflicts of the states’s foundation. Today’s conflicts, after a short time, become largely the private property of those who participated in them.

That’s perhaps not a bad thing.  Perhaps it is akin to the rapidity with which Israeli cities clear up and move on after terror attacks. Still, the long quiet that has followed the 2006 war on the northern border has helped to further obscure some of the lessons of that summer.  It is worth therefore recalling, in unforgiving focus, some of what took place.

A Cabinet led by individuals with minimal security experience (and a prime minister and president now serving jail terms), and an IDF led by its first chief of staff from the Air Force set out for war with the Iranian proxy Hizballah organization on July 12th, 2006.

It is now evident that no coherent and achievable plan for the conduct of the war had been decided at the rushed and overheated Cabinet meeting that set it in motion.

This problematic, unprepared leadership was in turn commanding an army ill-suited for the war it would need to fight.

There were two reasons for the IDF’s state of unreadiness:

The first was practical: the 2006 war came immediately after an intensive five year period of counter-insurgency, in which the IDF was engaged against a large scale Palestinian uprising.  The demands of the Second Intifada left little time for training for conventional war.

The challenges faced by troops at that time were considerable. But they were mainly of a police-like nature, not employing or testing the specialized skills of front line military units in battlefield conditions.

This army in 2006 found itself facing a well armed, mobile enemy, on terrain which the Israeli side knew far less well than its foe.

The resulting difficulties were compounded by a second, conceptual issue.

The 2006 war was not the fight the army was expecting.  Chief of Staff Dan Halutz expected to spend his period at the IDF’s helm facing the key challenge of the Iranian nuclear program and focusing on ballistic missile defense.  Future wars, it was assumed, would be fought using air power, with small numbers of trained specialists on the ground.

As a result, resources had in preceding years been diverted from training the large, reserve land army.  It was assumed that this was a force unlikely to be used.

In 2006, some reserve armored formations, as a result, went into battle against Hizballah having taken part in only one training exercise using tanks in the previous half decade.  Full disclosure: I was a member of such a force.

These were the circumstances in which Israel went to war in 2006.

The war for the greater part of its duration consisted of limited ground operations by the IDF in an area adjoining the border, air operations up to Beirut, as well as a successfully maintained naval blockade; and on Hizballah’s side, defense of areas under ground attack and a successful effort to maintain throughout a constant barrage of short-range rockets on northern Israel.

A ceasefire came into effect at 8:00 a.m. on August 14, 2006, following the passing of UN Resolution 1701. The end of the fighting found some IDF forces deployed at the Litani River, but with Israel far from control of the entire area between the river and the Israeli-Lebanese border.

Looking back, it is clear that hesitant Israeli political leadership, and a lack of an overall plan for the war were the reason for its inconclusive results.  Had the IDF, even the poorly prepared force that entered the war of 2006, been presented with clear orders at an early stage to move forward into Lebanon, according to one of the available plans for achieving this, a less ambiguous result could have been achieved.  No such order was ever given.

Much public anger followed the war and its inconclusive results, as Hizballah and its friends in the west sought to build a narrative of ‘divine victory’ from the events.

From the perspective of a decade later, however, much of the euphoria of Hizballah and the despair on parts of the Israeli side seem exaggerated.  The results of the war from an Israeli perspective in 2016  are mixed.

The border has indeed been quieter since 2006 than at any time since the late 1960s.  This fact in itself says more about Hizballah’s true assessment following the damage suffered in 2006 than any al-Akhbar editorial excitedly proclaiming divine victory.

And of course Hizballah leader Hassan Nasrallah himself told a Lebanese TV channel shortly after the war  that had the movement known of the scale of the IDF response, Hizballah would have never have carried out the kidnappings which sparked the war.

At the same time, Resolution 1701, which was intended to keep the Shia Islamist movement north of the Litani has failed. Hizballah has built an extensive new infrastructure south of the river since 2006, under the noses of UNIFIL and often with the collusion of the Lebanese Armed Forces.  And Hizballah has vastly increased its rocket and missile capacity

In retrospect, 2006 was perhaps most significant  in  that it introduced a type of warfare and a type of force which has now proliferated across the region – namely, military entities which are neither regular armies nor guerrilla movements in the classic sense. Rather, they are potent combinations of the two.

These forces carry no state flag with them. Indeed, often they are stronger than the forces of the notional state on whose territory they operate. They possess neither air power, nor much in the way of armored or artillery or naval capacities.  Yet they operate not merely as guerrillas but rather as light infantry forces, holding ground and defending it, while making adept use of 21st century media to fight the propaganda battle.

Hizballah was the prototype of such a force, and it remains among the strongest of them.

But today, the entire landscape between the Mediterranean Sea and the Iraq-Iran border proliferates with groups of this type.  Jabhat al-Nusra and Ahrar al-Sham and Iraq’s Shia militias and even the Assad regime’s National Defence Force represent a variety of opposed causes and perspectives. But they are all hybrid forces, light infantries of varying quality, parallel entities to Hizballah.

This highlights perhaps the most central point regarding the 2006 war. In its aftermath, as Hizballah and Iran celebrated their divine victory, it appeared that the prospect was one of ongoing bloodletting between Israel and a regional alliance committed to its destruction, with Hizballah as the primary military instrument on the ground.

Today, that landscape has changed beyond recognition.  Hizballah and its Iranian patron are engaged in a region-wide war against the Sunni Arabs.  In Yemen, Iraq and above all Syria, the movement and its patron are up to their necks in an unending conflict.  Hizballah’s latest woes include fights between its members and Assad’s troops in the Aleppo area, and  the loss of around 1500 men in the morass of the Syrian war. For as long as this war continues, it seems likely that no repeat of 2006 is on the horizon. And even if it ends, the damage suffered in 2006 is likely to give Hizballah and its patron continued pause for thought.

What all this ultimately means is that we should be thankful for those who came before us.  Lebanon 2006 shows that even at a low point in terms of training and planning, led by an unsuitable chief of staff, with an inexperienced and as it turns out largely corrupt political leadership at the helm, Israel’s armed forces were still of sufficient quality to be capable of delivering a blow to a powerful enemy instructive enough to ensure a period of  subsequent silence, which lasts to this day.  Broader regional circumstances beyond the control of either Israelis or Lebanese Shias have certainly added to this effect.  The main question, though  – whether Israeli society and its armed forces have sufficiently internalized and acted on the lessons taught in the burning summer of 2006  – remains a subject of daily relevance to which a final answer can not yet be given.





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