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Eighteen-year-old Sahar Vardi is currently in an Israeli military prison. She is being punished for the crime of refusing to be conscripted into the Israeli military.

"Jerusalem bulldozer 'terrorist' kills 3 in rampage," read the headline of a CNN article describing the recent attack of a Palestinian construction worker that left three Israelis dead and s

In The Prince, Machiavelli cogently observes that for an occupation to continue it needs to be economically viable.

It took me a moment before I understood why my story about a few relatively inconsequential incidents, which occurred years ago at my high school, had such an effect on the undergraduates taking my fa

On June 8, 1967, just a few hours after the Israeli military captured Jerusalem’s Temple Mount, Haram al Sharif, Defense Minister Moshe Dayan visited the site. Noticing that troops had hung an Israeli flag on the cap of the Al-Aqsa shrine, Dayan asked one of the soldiers to remove it, adding that displaying the Israeli national symbol for all to see was an unnecessarily provocative act.

The Jewish celebration of Passover and Israel's sixtieth anniversary coincided this year, and seemed to be a good time to reflect upon, and perhaps explain, my passionate commitment to Israel. No doubt having been born and raised in Israel makes me feel most at home there. My family and friends live in Israel. I like the smells and the tastes, and I am not surprised or taken aback by the forthrightness, the occasional arrogance or the cynical humor that characterizes many Israelis. My familiarity with the culture helps me identify and understand the nuances of social interactions.

"Archaeology has become a weapon of dispossession," Yonathan Mizrachi, an Israeli archaeologist, said in a recent telephone interview with us. He was referring to the way archaeology is being used in Silwan, a Palestinian neighborhood in the oldest part of Jerusalem, where, we believe, archaeological digs are being carried out as part of a concerted campaign to expel Palestinians from their ancestral home.

The experiment in famine began on January 18, 2008. Israel hermetically closed all of Gaza’s borders, preventing food, medicine and fuel from entering the Strip. Power cuts, which had been frequent for many months, were extended to 12 hours per day. Because of the electricity shortage, at least 40 percent of Gazans have not had access to running water (which is channeled through electric pumps) for days and the sewage system has broken down. The raw sewage that has not spilled onto the streets is being poured into the sea at a daily rate of 30 million liters.

For less than four dollars an hour, the Jewish teenagers removed furniture, clothes, kitchenware and toys from the homes and loaded them on to trucks. As they worked diligently alongside the many policemen who had come to secure the destruction of 30 houses in two unrecognised Bedouin villages, Bedouin teenagers stood by watching their homes being emptied.

Take a minute before you conclude that the pro-Israel lobby is the sole culprit behind the witch hunt directed against scholars who criticize Israeli military rule over Palestinians. Consider Norman Finkelstein. If he had been on the faculty of an Israeli university, rather than DePaul University, he probably would be an associate professor by now.I say that because several years ago I came up for tenure at Ben Gurion University of the Negev under similarly contested circumstances.

Alan Dershowitz, Harvard's Felix Frankfurter Professor of Law, has decided to attack me personally, thinking that if he undermines my reputation he can save his own. Paradoxically, he manages to prove one thing in his recent diatribe in the Jerusalem Post: that he is a consistent man.

As in his book The Case for Israel, here too, he relentlessly passes fiction for fact.

While all eyes are on the crisis in the Gaza Strip, the Palestinians who live in Susya, in the hills to the south of Hebron, are in imminent danger of being expelled from their homes. They are surely not the only ones who might be evicted from their ancestral lands in the upcoming months -- the inhabitants of the small village Nuaman just south of Jerusalem, for example, are also under imminent threat -- but they are among the most vulnerable people living under Israeli military rule in the West Bank.

Almost a year and a half has passed since our friend Samir Dari was gunned down by an Israeli policeman. Samir, an Israeli resident and father of two, approached a group of policemen who had just detained his brother on a street corner not far away from his house and demanded the latter's release. There are conflicting versions about how the events unfolded, but there is no dispute about the following facts: Samir was unarmed and the policeman Shmuel Yechezkel shot him from close range in the back.

In the wake of the 1967 Israeli-Arab war, eight Arab heads of state met in Khartoum, Sudan, to decide how to react to their humiliating defeat. The leaders’ message was straightforward: There would be no peace with Israel, no recognition of and no negotiations with the Jewish state. Following the summit, most Arab countries adopted the three no approach as their official policy, and for many years Israel was considered to be an illegitimate entity.

In early April the rumors about Dr. Azmi Bishara, the most famous Arab Knesset member, began circulating on the Internet: Bishara is afraid to return to Israel; Bishara intends to resign from the Knesset; the Israeli Security Agency has decided to accuse Bishara of treason and espionage. The gag order preventing the publication of any information about Bishara's actions made the rumors all the more intriguing. What did Bishara, in fact, do?

Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas and Hamas leader Khaled Meshal went to Mecca after more than 130 people had been killed, hundreds wounded and a burning sense of urgency had taken over the Palestinian streets. Gazans had been confined to their homes for days, this time not as the result of an Israeli curfew or aerial attack but rather from fear of getting caught in the crossfire. Palestinian society, it seemed, was on the brink of civil war.

While the fighting in Lebanon was still raging, many analysts claimed that Hezbollah’s modern weaponry and use of civilian spaces for military purposes distinguished the war from any other.

At least in the eyes of many a party apparatchik, Israel’s second Lebanon war is a huge success. Not so much due to the military bombardment and invasion of Lebanon, but due to the campaign’s consolidating effect inside Israel.

Over the past five years the Israeli peace camp has dwindled. Last month marked the occupation's fortieth anniversary, but no more than 4,000 people reportedly gathered in Tel Aviv to protest Israel's longstanding military rule. Of the demonstrators who did show up, only a few hundred are what one could call ardent activists--people who have dedicated their life to peace and justice

ONLY AFTER A Katyusha rocket killed her neighbor did she agree to come. For more than a week, I had been pleading with my mother and her 80-year-old partner, a veteran of many Israeli wars, to leave their home in the northern city Nahariya and spend time in our small two-bedroom apartment far from the line of fire. Within a week the fighting will subside, I assured her, while asking myself whether this new cycle of violence will indeed end so soon.

In his first visit to the White House on May 23, Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert told President Bush that Israel will “devote six to nine months to find a Palestinian partner” before it pursues the unilateral “Convergence Plan.” It was an empty promise. Olmert knows that given the reality in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, the probability of returning to the negotiation table is close to zero.

The crowded room felt like a sauna, a natural effect of the scorching sun hitting the tin roof and the lack of a fan or air conditioner to ease the desert heat. Everyone was talking about the "Wine Route," the Israeli government's plan for a series of farms and wineries designed to draw tourists to the Negev, and the latest insult to its marginalized Bedouin population.

Israelis went to the polls last week with the hope of resolving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict once and for all. The new political party, Kadima, which means “forward” in Hebrew, promised as much and therefore won the day, while the country’s long-established ruling parties, Labor and Likud, lost their traditional place at the helm.

It was a beautiful winter day. I was among approximately 80 Israeli activists who set out to plant trees in the South Hebron region, home to hundreds of Palestinian cave-dwellers. The desert air was chilly, the land moist after the rains, and the hills full with wild flowers. Yet the tranquil setting was deceptive.

Although it is still unclear what the future holds for Israelis and Palestinians, a few things can be said about the processes that enabled Hamas to win a landslide victory in the January 25 democratic elections and how the organizationís triumph will likely affect the local political arena.