On Omer Bartov, Genocide and the Limitations of Historians
In his recent New York Times op-ed, historian Omer Bartov concludes that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza. His authority as a renowned scholar of the Holocaust and genocide studies – particularly a Jewish Israeli one – is why the world is listening to him and why, in his estimation, he is qualified to make this assertion (or, as he states clearly in the essay’s title “I’m a Genocide Scholar. I Know it When I See It”). But historians have limitations on what we can claim to responsibly know, even historians as distinguished as Bartov.
On what authority would a scholar, trained in historical methods, with an expertise on 20th Century Europe be able to assess – as Bartov does – that this contemporary event can no longer be defined as a war but only as genocide? What classified military, political and diplomatic information would he have access to, making him confident that the objective of destroying Hamas is no longer a legitimate military aim? What Bartov sees as indiscriminate killings and attempts to destroy all Palestinian life in Gaza, Azar Gat, a political scientist specializing in war, security and diplomacy, outlines as a difficult military strategy. Bartov assures us that by now all scholars of genocide history share his assessment about Gaza. But perhaps that is an inability to see beyond their very difficult specialization. Scholars from different fields offer alternate viewpoints. One recent article co-authored by two military historians, a biochemist specializing in data analysis and an expert in international law asserts, among other findings, that claims of genocide ignore the reciprocal aspect of war, largely excluding mention of Hamas as active adversaries, and that critical analysis of forensic evidence casts doubt on claims of a systemic Israeli policy of targeting or massacring civilians. In his important critique of Bartov, Jeffrey Herf – himself an eminent scholar of Nazi Germany – also raises this point about the role of Hamas in the conflict. Similarly, where Bartov is sure that the devastating food depravation in Gaza is the result of intentional starvation at the hands of Israel, health policy and military experts looked carefully at the evidence and disagree. And if we know, as we do, that hospitals and schools are being used as covers for Hamas tunnels and armed centers, on what basis can a historian claim to be sure that destroying them must be intentional targeting of civilian life rather than a legal act within horrific urban warfare?
When Bartov cites Shmuel Lederman, he offers him as an example of one of the last Israeli scholars of genocide to finally come around to his shared conclusion. But Lederman’s argument is wanting when he makes the distinction between Gaza as genocide versus allied bombings of Germany and Japan as acts of war. Lederman insists that the distinction lies in the fact that the allies did not share the same desire to eradicate their adversaries in World War Two that Jewish Israelis today have towards Palestinians. But historians in fact know about anti-German sentiments in England and anti-Japanese xenophobia in the United States that was aggressive, vengeful and dehumanizing. President Truman’s 1945 description of the Japanese as “beasts” who only understand violence is one example of the culture surrounding the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki that is very similar to the examples of Israeli “genocidal” rhetoric that Bartov introduces. Keeping this in account would mean that any historian who defines Israeli actions towards Palestinians as genocide must do the same about the actions of the Americans, English and their allies towards Germans and Japanese during World War Two.
What this in fact shows is what Bartov alludes to in his essay: we must question whether the term genocide has now become delegitimized, becoming a demonstration of “outrage” rather than fact. Sadly, the careless ubiquity and the abuse of the term genocide on American campuses has now made it ring hollow: like so much of the terminology related to the Middle East, it has been basely politicized and weaponized.
I understand why Palestinians would insist that people name their experience as genocide. There is tremendous power in the word and – because of the Holocaust – even more when it is ascribed to the actions of Jews. Perhaps most importantly, it is a cry for the world to acknowledge and to bring an end to the horror Palestinians are being subjected to. And with the devastating stories coming out of Gaza, it feels wrong to insist on terminology that might seem to belittle the degree of human suffering. But Irwin Cotler, the distinguished human rights lawyer and former Minister of Justice and Attorney General of Canada, has warned that accusations of genocide against Israel are an “Orwellian inversion of fact and law”. And Bartov himself outlines the high stakes involved in this discussion, with “major political, legal and moral ramifications.” And so, the issue of more temperate terminology cannot be ignored.
Historical arguments are formed after scrutinizing a broad range of sources that can only become available to us after the passing of many years. The perspective offered by temporal distance from events is crucial to our profession. While historians as experienced as Bartov have valuable comments to make on contemporary events based on lessons from the past, they also have the responsibility to leave space for doubt and uncertainty. Perhaps most importantly, they must recognize the limitations of their own authority.
