Ken O’Keefe
This is an extract from an article published in 2002, it is so telling as it explains BBC’s relationship with Israel Goldvicht, an Israeli producer who might as well be an official agent of the Israeli hasbara (propaganda) machine. Goldvicht would have been key to getting Jane Corbin “embedded” with the Israeli commandos as they strut their GI Joe stuff.
So here is Pilger’s take on it;
“The Israelis were determined not to damage the buildings,” began the narrator. “The international press were cleared from Manger Square, but we were allowed to stay and observe the Israeli operation…” With this “unique access” unexplained to the viewers, the film presented one Colonel Lior as the star good guy, guaranteeing “medical treatment to anyone wounded,” saying a cheery hello on a mobile phone to a friend in Oxford Street and, like any colonial officer, speaking about and on behalf of the Palestinians.
“Killers” were described by the colonel without challenge by the BBC/Israel Goldvicht team. They were “terrorists” and “gunmen,” not those resisting the invasion of their homeland. Israel’s right to “arrest” foreign peace protesters drew no query from the BBC. Not a single Palestinian was interviewed. As the sun set on his fine profile, the last word went to the good colonel. The issues between the Israelis and Palestinians, he said, “were personal points of view.”
Well, no. The brutal subjugation of the Palestinians is, under any interpretation of the law, an epic injustice, a crime in which the colonel plays a leading part.
The BBC has always provided the best, most sophisticated propaganda service in the world, because matters of justice and injustice, right and wrong are simply usurped either by “balance” or by liberal sophistry; one is either “pro-Israeli” or “pro-Palestinian.”
Fiona Murch, the executive producer of Correspondent, told me that Israel Goldvicht Productions would not have won the “trust” of the Israeli army had the producer asked real journalistic questions. That was the way of “fly on the wall”: a candid admission. “It was breaking a stereotype,” she said. “It was about a good, decent man” (the colonel). She said I ought to have seen an earlier Correspondent series, which had Palestinians in it.
I think she was trying to offer that as “balance” for “The Siege of Bethlehem”-a film that might be dismissed as cheap PR, were it not for its complicity with a regime that uses ethnic difference to deny human rights, imprisons people without charge or trial, and murders and tortures “systematically,” says Amnesty.
Goebbels would have approved.
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Flashback:
Carolyn Cole - For her extraordinarily intimate depiction of the siege of the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.
ON GUARD: A Palestinian passes through the sanctuary of Bethlehem's Church of the Nativity during the last week of the siege. The men inside prayed twice a day, facing the right wall of the church, toward Mecca. Many slept in the sanctuary under blankets with their assault rifles near their heads. They cooked meals of weed soup and fried leaves. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
BOUND FOR GAZA: Tamer, 23, Khaleel, 23, and Zed, 26, left, were originally from the Gaza Strip but had been in Bethlehem since 1999. Under terms of the settlement, they were sent back to Gaza. Larry Hales, a Colorado man who was among the 10 sympathizers who raced into the church, said the experience was unforgettable. "The most striking thing was walking around and seeing people's faces by candlelight or as they fiddled with a candle," he recalled. "You could hear bats screeching and see their shadows going in and out of the church--it was pretty eerie. It is supposed to be a holy church, but it reminded me of an old Dracula movie." (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
SANCTUARY: During the Israeli assault on Bethlehem, many in the vicinity of the church ran inside, including this Christian, who was sick. Most of the time, he slept by himself in this semicircular area of the church, beneath ancient brass lamps hanging from the ceiling. It became anarea for loners. Walls in the church, which is shaped like a cross, are covered with paintings of Christ, the Virgin Mary and Moses. Many are oils, and some are decorated in gold and silver leaf. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
DAY BREAK: Sunlight awakens only one of more than a dozen Palestinians under blankets in a corner of the sanctuary. The men talked into the early morning and slept late, stowing their assault rifles near their heads, within easy reach. In keeping with the custom of leaving shoes outside their homes, they placed them at the end of the rugs they were sleeping on. The rugs, to stave off cold on the stone floor, were provided by clergymen. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
DOOR OF HUMILITY: Five Palestinians crouch in front of the Door of Humility, the main entrance to the church, for a glimpse outside as monks carry a wounded man to the Israelis for treatment. The heavy wooden door was locked with steel bars and was rarely opened. It simultaneously blocked those inside from freedom and protected them from harm. Outside, Israeli soldiers trained their weapons on it. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
BLESSING THE CHURCH: Father Vissarion, right, a Greek Orthodox priest, carries the Holy Fire obtained from His Beatitude Ireneos, the Greek Orthodox Patriarch of Jerusalem. He and Father Parthenios, holding the incense burner, returned with the flame from an excursion arranged by the Israeli government during the siege. Escorted by the Israeli Defense Forces, the two men left the church for the first time in more than a month. "Streets had become dirt paths wherever the tanks had gone over," Father Parthenios said. "It was like a ghost town because of the curfew." The two priests returned to the Church of the Nativity with the flame seven hours later and were met with applause from those grateful that spiritual traditions had survived amid the terror of warfare. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
HUNGER: Palestinian police officer Najee Abu Abed, who had a piece of shrapnel embedded in his nose, spoons fried lemon leaves into his mouth. As food supplies ran out, men took to picking greens in the rear courtyard and using them for food, either boiled with salt and water into a soup, or fried in old oil, sometimes used in lanterns. The taste was like a light pastry. After leaving the church, Abed had the shrapnel removed by a doctor. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
PRAYING TOWARD MECCA: "The vision of Muslims praying within the main sanctuary is one Father Parthenios will not forget. At 4:30 a.m., noon and 7:30 p.m., the call to worship came--a lone voice echoing against the stones and pillars set in place 1,700 years ago. "In the beginning, it was against our rules," Parthenios explained. But given the circumstances, the church immediately relented. " (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
INSIDE THE CHURCH OF THE NATIVITY: A half-inch-wide slit in the Door of Humility, which serves as the entrance to the Chruch of the Nativity in Bethlehem, provided the only regular view outside for Palestinians in the standoff with Israeli military. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
INVENTORY OF GUNS: Palestinian police officer Mohammed Thabet checks the serial number of an AK-47 before it is handed over to U.S. authorities as part of the settlement. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
LAST TO DIE:--Friends comfort a dying Khalaf Najazeh, left, who was shot by an automated Israeli sniper crane. Mohammed Thabet said Najazeh, whose wife had recently delivered their 12th child, was shot as he stood outside the church in a courtyard. Larry Hales said Najazeh had gone to get water to clean his clothes, anticipating that negotiations were about to end the standoff. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
SAYING GOODBYE: After the standoff ended, 13 Palestinians considered extremely dangerous by Israel were sent into exile in Europe. Twenty-six others were sent to the Gaza Strip. As the names of those to be sent away were read aloud, some men wept. Then they groomed themselves with shampoo and soap pilfered from the Casanova Hotel and ate a last meal together. The men being exiled lined up near the door for their farewells. Their mood improved. They had survived. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times)
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