Abstract

On 29 April 1956, Ro’i Rothberg was killed in an ambush in Nahal Oz, a Kibbutz located just outside the Gaza Strip. Moshe Dayan, Chief of General Staff of the Israel Defense Forces, delivered aneulogy, part of which contained the following:
Early yesterday morning Ro’i was murdered. The quiet of the spring morning dazzled him and he did not see those waiting in ambush for him. Let us not cast the blame on the murderers today. Why should we declare their burning hatred for us? For eight years they have been sitting in the refugee camps in Gaza, and before their eyes we have been transforming the lands and the villages, where they and their fathers dwelt, into our estate. It is not among the Arabs in Gaza, but in our own midst that we must seek Roi’s blood.
1
Dayan’s implicit recognition of the legitimate grievances of the Palestinians in Gaza – grievances which arose from dispossession and colonial violence – offers a fascinating counterpoint to contemporary rhetoric. It also raises key questions, both sociological, moral, and normative: How and why do victims turn to violence in response to the perpetration of violence against them? What are the mechanisms of their mobilization? And is this violence legitimate?
As a historical sociologist of settler colonialism in Israel/Palestine, I have witnessed the current war waged by Israel as the continuation of structural phenomena. I have dedicated my efforts to advancing sociological theory on empire, settler colonialism, and colonial violence. My theorizing on the Palestinian-Israeli conflict is deeply rooted in understanding the continuities and discontinuities of colonial domination, dispossession, and resistance. I approach Israel/Palestine as a case study within the broader framework of settler colonialism, a wider phenomenon which involves the establishment of a settler society on indigenous land through the displacement, replacement, and subjugation of the native population.
My work allows me to critically analyze the complex historical and structural forces shaping the Palestinian-Israeli conflict and the current relations between Palestinians and Jewish Israelis. It enables me to explain the origins of power relations, hierarchies, and systems of oppression that have become coterminous with the settler colonial project. By examining the intricate web of social, political, and economic forces, I aim to shed light on the enduring legacy of original settler colonial violence, present structures, and their implications for justice and liberation.
We are undoubtedly living through a critical juncture. As of late May 2024, the UN OCHA reports over 36,000 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza and 81,026 injured since October 7, 2023, while over 1,200 have been killed in Israel and around 5,432 injured. About 1.7 million Gazans remain displaced, and at time of publication, Israeli forces are continuing their incursion into Rafah. 2 A truly sociological approach to comprehending the ongoing war would situate the October 7th massacre in a longer history of structural violence to which Palestinians in Gaza have been subject. This turn to contextualization is not a justification of the actions of Hamas and other militias. However, if we want to explain social action – without normatively justifying abhorrent actions of mass violence – we must try to understand what motivates social actors to perpetrate violence. Indeed, this is the job of a sociologist.
October 7th is not a zero-point, if we take history as a tool to theorize the present conditions. Settler colonial violence is a social fact (as Durkheim might say) in Palestine-Israel – constituted by colonization, displacement and exile, killing and injuring, marginalization, and de-sovereingization (Sabbagh-Khoury, 2022). These structures have long defined the experiences of Palestinians. In Gaza,1 structural violence is beyond extreme, particularly since the Israeli and Egyptian siege from 2007 onwards. The majority of the current population of Gaza are refugees originating from the areas where the attacked kibbutzim now stand. The Hamas attack did not occur in a vacuum. It is the apex of a longer settler colonial conflict.
So, too, is Israel’s brutal response not aberrant, but rather follows a long trend of collective punishment, the indiscriminate targeting of civilians, and the legitimation of war crimes. Therefore, it behooves our discipline to take a stand on present actions and conditions. The role of the sociologist, as I see it, is to explain the social world based on empirical assessment and theoretical analysis. While it is not always our role to proffer normative remarks, sociologists all are aware of how knowledge production is inextricably tied to politics and power. We know the histories of how sociological knowledge has been used to entrench colonial hierarchies (Steinmetz, 2023) and also how sociological contributions have prompted social change toward equality and justice.
Therefore, it is my conviction that our discipline should endorse an immediate, sustained ceasefire in Gaza. First and foremost, such position aligns with the principles of social justice, human rights, and anticolonialism that are central to my sociological framework. Moreover, as sociologists, we have a responsibility to engage with pressing social and political issues, especially those involving systemic injustices and violations of human rights. Sociologists often do make public declarations backed by our empirical, evidence-based research: for fair housing, against the commodification of healthcare, against the prison industrial complex, against racialized hierarchy, against poverty and inequality, and against war. 3 Our discipline has a long history of activism informed by rigorous understandings of the state, political economy, social movements, and social stratification. Therefore, it should be no question that our discipline backs a quite rudimentary and straightforward call to end the Israeli bombardment of civilians and their mass starvation and deprivation from life-saving resources like healthcare, and to free hostages still held by Hamas.
The International Court of Justice asserted in its preliminary response to South Africa’s petition that Israel is plausibly engaged in actions that befit the international legal threshhold of genocide. 4 Various branches of the United Nations, every major human rights organization, including Israeli organizations, many states, including the United States – most recently by its Agency for International Development – have coalesced around the assessment that Israel is committing grave violations of warfare and human rights in its imposed siege, famine, and continued military assaults on millions of civilians with no way to escape. Many states, including Western and Arab states, are simultaneously complicit in the perpetration of the mass killings of thousands of Palestinian men, women, children, including doctors, nurses, journalists, aid workers, and scholars. Financial earmarking by states to Israel’s military, armament transfers, political and symbolic support, and mass repression all contribute to the structure of deprivation and necropolitics befallen the Palestinians.
Therefore, one must ask why the need to call for a ceasefire is even necessary. We sociologists – scholars of inequality, violence, social, and political formations – know best how and why the conditions of livability become differentiated for humans. We know best that war and structural violence are social phenomena – that is, they require human intervention and collective action, and do not simply come about spontaneously. Those of us engaged in the historical sociology of this region know precisely how the Zionist movement emerged at the complex nexus of European modernity, empire, and social closure of the Jewish people, and how Palestinian and Jewish nationalisms developed dialectically and under the incubation of British colonialism. Because we know that all nationalisms are socially constructed, we also know that no human naturally derives the right to rule over others, and that all humans deserve to live freely and fairly.
We should, therefore, stop not merely at the call for a ceasefire, but we should work to end Israel’s occupation, apartheid regime, and violent actions against the Palestinian people. We should work to ensure that Palestinian and Jewish Israelis both attain safety and equality; decolonization is an effort to free all social actors from their relational subject positions. We need to strive to disentangle Zionism from Judaism as we eradicate all forms of colonial hierarchy, including Jewish supremacy.
As an Indigenous scholar living amid the turmoil of war and bearing witness to the suffering and starvation of my people and the plausibility of transfer of ‘48 Palestinians, the Palestinian struggle transcends mere academic inquiry; it becomes a deeply personal and existential reality. My unique positionality as an Indigenous scholar significantly shapes my analysis of the Palestinian–Israeli conflict, influencing both my theoretical framework and my ethical commitments. Moreover, my role as a Palestinian lecturer at Hebrew University in Israel adds another layer of complexity to my perspective. While some view Israel solely through the lens of domination, I am confronted with the reality that my Jewish colleagues and students are not perpetrators but individuals whom I hold dear. This dynamic further informs my understanding of the conflict, emphasizing the complexities and nuances that cannot be overlooked. Given my situatedness, I am most aware of how the denial of Palestinian rights is deeply ingrained in Israeli society, perpetuated through education, media, and state policies that reinforce the myth of Israeli exceptionalism. This denial is not solely ideological; it is manifested tangibly throughout the Israeli state apparatus, including military occupation, land confiscation, and systematic discrimination against Palestinians
Living in the midst of war and witnessing the starvation and suffering of my people has profoundly influenced my thinking about the role of theory in transforming lives and ending oppression. It has reinforced my belief in the transformative potential of sociological knowledge and its capacity to challenge dominant narratives, disrupt power structures, and mobilize collective action for social change. Theories are not abstract concepts but tools for liberation, enabling us to make sense of our reality and envision alternative futures. As sociologists, we are best equipped to expose the underlying mechanisms of violence and to suggest alternative paths.
This moment marks a critical juncture in the field of sociology, where we are witnessing attempts to silence critical voices and dangerous efforts to conflate anti-Zionism with antisemitism. The ongoing war threatens to undo global progress within our discipline. It is imperative that we recognize the gravity of this situation and take action to prevent further deterioration. It is a moment for sociology to challenge the exceptionalism of Palestine regarding freedom of speech and to retrace the roots of European modernity, including its ramifications leading to the attempted eradication of European Jewry and subsequently the mass displacement of the Palestinian people. It is time to reconnect the Jewish question with the Palestinian question and address the role of imperial and colonial violence in shaping this struggle.
Sociology, by its very nature, seeks to understand and address social inequalities, injustices, and conflict. Yet, when critical voices are stifled – as they are across campuses in the United States, Europe, and the Middle East, including in Israel – and legitimate critiques of power structures are silenced, our ability to fulfill this mission is severely compromised. The continuation of the war not only perpetuates violence and suffering but also undermines the foundational principles of sociological inquiry. We must reject attempts to suppress dissenting perspectives and uphold the integrity of our discipline.
Conclusion
In 2000, the Palestinian scholar Edward Said declared in an interview with the Israeli newspaper Haaretz: ‘I am the last Jewish intellectual’. He further clarified, ‘I am a Palestinian-Jew and the last follower of Adorno’ (Shavit, 2000). To me, his statement reflects how his background and upbringing allowed him to bridge different cultural and intellectual worlds. His words underscore his perception uniquely informed by an extensive knowledge of, and parallel encounter with, the experience of displacement and exile that Jews have long faced. Said’s statements and positionality resonate deeply with me. As a Palestinian citizen in Israel, a scholar situated in Israeli academia, and a sociologist who has long worked to decipher the history and impact of Zionism, I resonate deeply with Said’s quip. My phenomenological proximity to Jewish and Israeli culture as a citizen of the Jewish State, a scholar brought up in Israeli institutions and in Jewish-Israeli and Palestinian intellectual traditions, my complex positionality reflects a reality where Palestinian-ness and Jewish-ness dialectically intersect (see Sabbagh-Khoury, 2023, Preface). Just as Said’s displaced positionality bridged diverse intellectual worlds, given my positionality I too bring a certain analytical perspective that lends to my conviction: Supporting the Resolution for Justice in Palestine is not only consistent with our intellectual principles but also reflects our discipline’s historical commitment to social justice for all and solidarity with oppressed communities worldwide.
In the face of a system making life unlivable, where do we as sociologists wish to stand?
Footnotes
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
