Today (December 14, 2025), representatives of the Kabyle people are expected to proclaim the independence of Kabylia, a mountainous region in northern Algeria. Kabylia is home to around 3.5 million inhabitants, with its own language, culture, and historical identity. The declaration, taking place in Paris, will be largely symbolic: Kabylia does not control territory, and no major power has endorsed its claim.

Yet symbolism matters.

The Kabyle people are part of the Amazigh (Berber) civilization, indigenous to North Africa long before the Arab-Muslim conquests of the seventh century. Like the Jews, they possess a distinct language, collective memory, and continuous attachment to their ancestral land. And like the Jews, they have long struggled against Arab conquest and Muslim imperialism.

What makes Kabylia’s case stand out today is its method. The independence movement, led by the Movement for the Self-Determination of Kabylia (MAK) and its government-in-exile, explicitly rejects violence. It advances its claims through political organization, international law, and appeals to democratic norms, not through terrorism or armed struggle.

In a world where violence often attracts attention and legitimacy, this distinction should matter.

From a narrow diplomatic perspective, Israel has little to lose. Algeria is already among Israel’s most hostile adversaries and maintains no diplomatic relations with it. Silence brings Israel no benefit.

From a strategic standpoint, however, Kabylia fits within Israel’s historic periphery strategy: the idea that Israel should cultivate ties with non-Arab, non-Islamist peoples on the margins of the Middle East and North Africa who share an interest in pluralism, secular governance, and resistance to authoritarian Arab nationalism and political Islam. This logic once guided Israel’s engagement with Kurds, Maronites, and others. Kabylia belongs in that same category. Ignoring it out of reflexive caution reflects not realism, but strategic inertia.

There is also a political reality Israel should acknowledge. Ferhat Mehenni, the president of Kabylia’s government-in-exile, has repeatedly and publicly expressed support for Israel, including at moments when doing so carried real personal and political risk. Such clarity is rare in North Africa. Israel often laments the absence of voices in the region willing to defend its legitimacy openly. When such a voice exists, it should at least be recognized.

Kabylia also exposes a broader double-standard in international politics. The same international community that overwhelmingly supports Palestinian statehood despite the Palestinians’ weak historical case, lack of political cohesion, and longstanding use and glorification of terrorism, largely ignores the Kabyles. The contrast is stark. The Palestinians are rewarded diplomatically despite decades of violence. The Kabyles are sidelined despite pursuing their aspirations through peaceful, legal, and democratic means. Israel, more than most countries, understands how damaging this inversion of norms has been.

Israel’s response to Kabylia must take regional dynamics into account, particularly Morocco, with which Israel enjoys a special and growing relationship. Morocco does not officially support Kabylia’s independence, nor has it recognized any Kabyle political entity. Like most states, Rabat formally upholds the principle of territorial integrity.

At the same time, Morocco has deliberately raised the Kabyle issue in international forums as part of its rivalry with Algeria, especially in response to Algeria’s support for the Polisario Front in Western Sahara. By highlighting Kabylie, Morocco has sought to expose what it sees as Algeria’s double standards: supporting separatism abroad while suppressing it at home.

This position is best understood as strategic signaling, not endorsement. For Israel, that distinction matters. A carefully framed Israeli stance, grounded in principles, not recognition, would not contradict Morocco’s position and should be coordinated with Rabat, not avoided altogether.

Leadership does not require Israel to recognize Kabylia today. International stability and alliances matter. But leadership does require moral clarity.

The UN Security Council has now endorsed President Donald Trump’s 20-point plan for Gaza, granting international legitimacy to a cease-fire architecture designed in Washington. The resolution, adopted with 13 votes in favor and only Russia and China abstaining, authorizes an International Stabilization Force in Gaza and lays out a conditional roadmap toward Palestinian self-determination.

This is an unfamiliar diplomatic moment for Israel: The United Nations is not condemning Israel but rather backing a US-led plan that includes demilitarizing Hamas, reconstructing Gaza under international oversight, and preventing a return to the status quo ante. At first glance, this looks like a strategic win. But the fine print matters, and so does the regional context.

Russia and China did not veto the resolution. Instead, they abstained, warning against what they described as “complete control” over Gaza being placed under a US-dominated structure, with insufficient transparency and unclear UN oversight. Their message is clear: they will tolerate this arrangement for now, but they remain wary of Washington consolidating authority in the Middle East. Their abstention avoids alienating Arab partners while preserving leverage over future phases of the process.

For Israel, the demilitarization mandate is substantial. Since 2005, every attempt to improve life in Gaza has collapsed on the anvil of Hamas’s military buildup. The new International Stabilization Force is explicitly tasked with dismantling that threat, not merely containing it.
If this is done thoroughly, Israel’s southern border could finally gain durable security without indefinite IDF control over two million Gazans.

Yet embedded within the resolution is language that could eventually constrain Israel’s strategic freedom of action: a “pathway” toward Palestinian statehood is indeed conditional, but it is now anchored in a binding Security Council resolution. Israel has always insisted that territorial and political arrangements must follow rather than precede ironclad security guarantees. That conditionality must now be defended at every stage.

Israel will also need to guard against mission creep. The “Board of Peace” steering governance in Gaza with the US at the helm could evolve into a body claiming authority over key security prerogatives. Israel must ensure the ISF operates as a partner, not a replacement for Israeli defense planning.

The regional chessboard is shifting as well. On the eve of the resolution, Trump announced his intention to approve the sale of advanced F-35 stealth fighters to Saudi Arabia. If tied to normalization, this could reshape Middle Eastern security in ways Israel has dreamed of for decades. But if handed to Riyadh with no strategic quid pro quo, it risks eroding Israel’s qualitative military edge, the bedrock of its deterrence.

That is the real test ahead: ensuring the Gaza track and the Saudi track reinforce each other, rather than creating new vulnerabilities. Washington would like to see Israel accept a more formal political horizon for the Palestinians in exchange for deeper regional integration.

So what should Israel do?

First, make demilitarization non-negotiable and front-loaded. No reconstruction funds before every tunnel and every launcher is dismantled.

Second, insist on operational coordination with the ISF at all levels: intelligence, border control, and rules of engagement.

Third, tie any progress on the political track for Palestinians to explicit and verifiable benchmarks, not vague promises of “readiness.”

Finally, press the US to synchronize regional diplomacy: Israeli-Saudi normalization must not be delayed until the final stage. It should be the engine and not the reward of this new architecture.

The UNSC’s endorsement of the Trump plan constitutes a mixed blessing at best. Israel should be proactive to make sure that Resolution 2803 leads to a safer Gaza border and to a stronger regional coalition.

Hommage à Martine Benayoun

Martine Benayoun ז”ל

 

Par Emmanuel Navon

Palais du Luxembourg, 10 novembre 2025

Le 10 novembre 2025, ELNET a organisé à Paris, au Sénat, une conférence internationale sur l’usage des violences sexuelles commes arme de guerre. Cette conférence a été dédiée à la mémoire de Martine Benayoun, qui était ma cousine germaine et dont j’étais très proche. Je lui ai rendu hommage lors du dîner de gala qui a conclu la conférence. 

Monsieur le Premier ministre, cher Manuel Valls ;
Madame la Vice-ministre des Affaires étrangères, chère Sharren Haskel ;
Mesdames et Messieurs les parlementaires ;
Vos Excellences ;
Chère famille Benayoun ;
Mesdames, Messieurs.

Nous sommes réunis ce soir, dans ce haut lieu de la République, pour conclure une journée de réflexion et pour honorer la mémoire d’une femme d’exception.

Des femmes et des hommes venus de nombreux pays se sont rassemblés ici, sous l’égide d’ELNET, pour agir contre cette tragédie de notre temps : l’usage des violences sexuelles comme arme de guerre.
C’est dans le cadre de cette conférence — et au moment de sa conclusion — que nous avons choisi de rendre hommage à Martine Benayoun.

Il nous a paru juste de faire vivre sa mémoire dans le contexte de ce combat qu’elle aurait fait sien.

Martine Benayoun était une femme d’exception, que j’ai eu le privilège de connaître intimement.

Elle était certes ma cousine germaine, mais elle était bien davantage : une âme sœur, une confidente.

Elle fut la première à qui j’annonçai ma décision de faire mon aliya, ma montée en Israël.

Avocate de formation, docteur en droit, elle avait la justice pour boussole. Diplômée de Sciences Po Paris, passionnée par les questions internationales, elle ne se contentait pas de comprendre le monde.

Elle voulait le réparer, conformément à l’idéal hébraïque du Tikkun Olam, la réparation du monde.

Car Martine était à la confluence de trois cultures qui forgèrent sa personnalité :

Son Maroc natal, dont elle garda la chaleur, la gaieté et la générosité ;

Sa France adoptive, dont elle embrassa la culture, les institutions et les valeurs avec passion ;Son judaïsme, partie intégrante de son identité, de son éthique et de sa vision du monde.

C’est ce triple héritage qui l’a conduite à militer pour la LICRA dès l’âge de vingt-trois ans.

Très vite, elle y a occupé les plus hautes fonctions : vice-présidente de la LICRA ; puis présidente-fondatrice du Cercle de la LICRA – Réfléchir les droits de l’homme, qu’elle a dirigé de 2011 à 2022.

Martine Benayoun savait que la lutte contre le racisme et l’antisémitisme ne pouvait pas se limiter aux slogans.
Elle voulait en comprendre les sources, en analyser les mécanismes, et agir contre eux en mobilisant les bonnes volontés.

Le Cercle de la LICRA qu’elle a fondé — et qui porte aujourd’hui son nom — est né de cette vision : créer un lieu où la réflexion éclaire l’action, où le débat nourrit la démocratie.

Elle y a convié des intellectuels, des économistes, des artistes, des diplomates.

Elle y a fait dialoguer la culture et la politique, la mémoire et l’avenir, la France et le monde.

Formée à Sciences Po, passionnée de géopolitique, Martine regardait toujours au-delà des frontières.Elle aimait comprendre les ressorts des conflits, les logiques de puissance, les fractures du Proche-Orient et de l’Europe.
Elle parlait souvent de la responsabilité morale des démocraties : cette idée que le droit et la dignité humaine ne s’arrêtent pas aux frontières nationales.

Elle suivait de près les crises humanitaires, les dérives idéologiques, les crimes de guerre et les atteintes aux droits fondamentaux.

Et lorsque la question des violences faites aux femmes dans les zones de conflit s’est imposée dans le débat international, elle s’y est immédiatement intéressée.

Elle y voyait le visage le plus obscène de la barbarie, le point de rupture de toute humanité partagée.

C’est pourquoi il n’y a aujourd’hui aucune coïncidence à rendre hommage à Martine Benayoun dans le cadre d’une conférence consacrée aux violences sexuelles comme arme de guerre.

Martine aurait voulu être ici.

Elle aurait voulu écouter les témoignages des survivantes.

Elle aurait voulu interroger le silence des institutions, dénoncer les complicités, et rappeler — avec son calme et sa fermeté habituels — que la dignité des femmes violées dans la guerre n’est pas une cause sectorielle, mais une cause universelle.

Elle aurait voulu que la France, fidèle à sa tradition, prenne la tête de ce combat.

Et elle aurait rappelé — elle qui connaissait si bien la géopolitique et le droit — que l’instrumentalisation du viol comme arme de guerre, qu’il s’agisse des Balkans, du Congo, de la Syrie ou de la tragédie du 7 octobre 2023 en Israël, n’est pas seulement un crime contre des femmes, mais un crime contre l’humanité.

Elle se serait insurgée contre la relativisation des crimes et contre la hiérarchisation de la douleur.

Et elle aurait rappelé la responsabilité morale des démocraties dans un système international où les puissances autocratiques veulent imposer la loi du plus fort.

Car Martine Benayoun avait une passion profonde pour la justice.

Son engagement au sein de la LICRA, ses années d’action, ses innombrables conférences, ses écrits et ses débats exprimaient à la fois les idéaux de la République française et les valeurs du judaïsme.

Elle aimait citer cette phrase de Victor Hugo : « La liberté commence où l’ignorance finit. »

Et, toute sa vie, elle a combattu l’ignorance pour défendre la liberté.

En 2012, Martine Benayoun a créé le Prix Jean-Pierre-Bloch, qui récompense une œuvre artistique engagée en faveur des droits de l’homme. C’était tout Martine : la conviction que la culture peut être un rempart contre la haine.

Ce prix, remis sous le haut patronage de la Présidence de la République, est aujourd’hui une institution ; il lui survit, comme un écho fidèle à sa vision.

Mais au-delà des titres et des institutions, celles et ceux qui l’ont connue se souviennent avant tout d’une femme profondément bonne, aimante et droite.

Je puis témoigner qu’elle était, comme on le dit en hébreu, une tsadeket — une juste.

Martine Benayoun nous a quittés en février 2022, à l’âge de soixante ans, emportée par une maladie qu’elle a affrontée dans le silence et la pudeur.

Elle n’a pas laissé d’enfants, mais elle a laissé une action, une œuvre, et un message.

Grâce à sa famille — à son frère Gérard et à sa sœur Dominique, ici présents — nous faisons revivre ce soir cette action, cette œuvre, et ce message.

Et nous continuerons de le faire, notamment en poursuivant le combat contre les violences sexuelles utilisées comme armes de guerre.

Rendre hommage à Martine Benayoun, ce n’est pas seulement honorer sa mémoire : c’est continuer son combat.

C’est dire que nous refusons l’indifférence.

C’est dire que nous voulons porter, à notre tour, cette éthique exigeante qui fut la sienne : celle de la vérité, du droit, et de la dignité humaine.

Et dans ce combat contre l’usage du viol comme arme de guerre — combat que la France doit mener haut et fort — elle nous donne la direction morale : celle d’une République debout, fidèle à son alliance avec Israël.

Car Israël a été frappé par les pires violences sexuelles le 7 octobre, et son armée se bat avec courage — et dans le respect du droit — pour le peuple juif et pour le monde libre.

Et quel symbole que d’honorer la mémoire de Martine Benayoun en cette date du 10 novembre. Cette date à laquelle le droit et la justice ont été bafoués, et où l’injustice à l’égard des Juifs ne fut qu’un prélude à un déchaînement de violence contre le monde libre.

Je veux parler de la Nuit de Crystal, ou Kristallnacht, le 10 novembre 1938.

Et je veux parler de l’infâme résolution de l’Assemblée générale de l’ONU du 10 novembre 1975, il y a cinquante ans jour pour jour, qui dénonça la libération nationale du peuple juif comme une forme de racisme.

Le combat de Martine Benayoun est donc loin d’être fini.

Nous honorons sa mémoire en poursuivant son action, et en luttant ensemble pour la dignité des femmes et pour le respect du droit.

Permettez-moi de conclure par une note personnelle.

Martine me confia un jour avoir choisi Esther comme nom hébreu.

Ce nom lui convenait à merveille : elle avait la dignité d’une reine, et Esther se battit, avec courage, pour son peuple et pour la justice.

Et ce nom nous renvoie aussi à Jean Racine, qui, dans Esther, célèbre la justice et le retour à Sion avec la beauté de la langue française :

« Réjouis-toi, Sion, et sors de la poussière.
Quitte les vêtements de ta captivité,
Et reprends ta splendeur première.
Les chemins de Sion à la fin sont ouverts. »

Puissions-nous reconstruire cette convergence entre Jérusalem et Paris, au nom des valeurs partagées par la France et par Israël — valeurs pour lesquelles Martine Benayoun s’est battue.

À nous de continuer ce combat, à la mémoire de Martine.

יהיה זכרה ברוך — Que sa mémoire soit bénie.

 

Tribute to Martine Benayoun

Martine Benayoun ז”ל

By Emmanuel Navon

Palais du Luxembourg, 10 November 2025

On November 10, 2025, ELNET organized an international conference at the French Senate in Paris on the use of sexual violence as a weapon of war. This conference was dedicated to the memory of Martine Benayoun, who was my first cousin and to whom I was very close. I paid tribute to her during the gala dinner that concluded the conference.

Mr. Prime Minister, dear Manuel Valls;
Madam Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs, dear Sharren Haskel;
Honourable Members of Parliament;
Your Excellencies;
Dear Benayoun family;
Ladies and Gentlemen.

We gather here this evening, in this great institution of the Republic, to conclude a day of reflection and to honour the memory of an exceptional woman.

Men and women from many countries have come together here, under the auspices of ELNET, to act against one of the great tragedies of our time: the use of sexual violence as a weapon of war.
It is within the framework of this conference—at the moment of its conclusion—that we chose to pay tribute to Martine Benayoun.

It seemed right to us to celebrate her memory in the context of a struggle she would have made her own.

Martine Benayoun was an exceptional woman whom I had the privilege of knowing intimately.

She was, of course, my first cousin, but she was much more: a soulmate, a confidante.

She was the first person I told when I decided to make my aliyah, my move to Israel.

A lawyer by training, a doctor of law, she took justice as her compass. A graduate of Sciences Po Paris, passionate about international affairs, she did not content herself with understanding the world.
She wanted to repair it, in keeping with the Hebrew ideal of Tikkun Olam, the repair of the world.

For Martine stood at the confluence of three cultures that shaped her personality:

Her native Morocco, from which she retained warmth, cheerfulness, and generosity;

Her adopted France, whose culture, institutions, and values she embraced with passion;

Her Judaism, an integral part of her identity, her ethics, and her worldview.

It was this threefold legacy that led her to join LICRA (The International League Against Racism and Antisemitism) at the age of twenty-three.

Very quickly, she rose to its highest ranks: vice-president of LICRA; then founding president of the LICRA Circle—Reflexion on Human Rights—which she led from 2011 to 2022.

Martine Benayoun knew that the fight against racism and antisemitism could not be reduced to slogans.
She wanted to understand their sources, analyse their mechanisms, and act against them by rallying goodwill.

The LICRA Circle she founded—and which today bears her name—was born of this vision: to create a place where reflection guides action, where debate nourishes democracy.

She welcomed intellectuals, economists, artists, diplomats.

She made culture and politics, memory and future, France and the world speak to one another.
Trained at Sciences Po, passionate about geopolitics, Martine always looked beyond borders.

She loved to understand the roots of conflicts, the logic of power, the fractures of the Middle East and Europe.
She often spoke of the moral responsibility of democracies: the idea that law and human dignity do not stop at national borders.

She closely followed humanitarian crises, ideological excesses, war crimes, and violations of fundamental rights.

And when the issue of violence against women in conflict zones entered the international debate, she immediately took interest.

She saw in it the most obscene face of barbarism, the breaking point of any shared humanity.

That is why there is no coincidence today in paying tribute to Martine Benayoun during a conference devoted to sexual violence as a weapon of war.

Martine would have wanted to be here.

She would have wanted to listen to the testimonies of survivors.

She would have wanted to question the silence of institutions, denounce complicity, and remind us—with her usual calm and firmness—that the dignity of women raped in war is not a niche cause but a universal one.

She would have wanted France, faithful to its tradition, to lead this struggle.

And she would have reminded us—she who understood geopolitics and law so well—that the instrumentalization of rape as a weapon of war, whether in the Balkans, Congo, Syria, or the tragedy of 7 October 2023 in Israel, is not only a crime against women but a crime against humanity.

She would have risen up against the relativisation of crimes and the hierarchy of suffering.

And she would have reminded us of the moral responsibility of democracies in an international system where autocratic powers seek to impose the law of the strongest.

For Martine Benayoun had a profound passion for justice.

Her commitment within LICRA, her years of activism, her countless conferences, writings, and debates expressed both the ideals of the French Republic and the values of Judaism.
She loved to quote Victor Hugo: “Liberty begins where ignorance ends.”

And throughout her life, she fought ignorance to defend liberty.

In 2012, Martine Benayoun created the Jean-Pierre Bloch Prize, awarded to an artistic work dedicated to human rights. It was quintessential Martine: the conviction that culture can be a bulwark against hatred.

This prize, awarded under the high patronage of the Presidency of the Republic, is now an institution; it survives her, a faithful echo of her vision.

But beyond titles and institutions, those who knew her remember above all a profoundly good, loving, and upright woman.

I can testify that she was, as we say in Hebrew, a tsadeket—a righteous woman.
Martine Benayoun passed away in February 2022, at the age of sixty, taken by an illness she faced with silence and modesty.

She left no children, but she left behind a life’s work and a message.

Thanks to her family—her brother Gérard and her sister Dominique, who are here with us—we revive this action, this work, and this message this evening.

And we will continue to do so, notably by pursuing the struggle against sexual violence used as a weapon of war.

To pay tribute to Martine Benayoun is not merely to honour her memory: it is to continue her fight.

It is to say that we refuse indifference.

It is to say that we wish to uphold, in our turn, the demanding ethic that was hers: that of truth, of law, and of human dignity.

And in this struggle against the use of rape as a weapon of war—a struggle that France must lead loudly and clearly—she offers us a moral compass: that of a Republic standing tall, faithful to its alliance with Israel.

For Israel was struck by the worst forms of sexual violence on 7 October, and its army fights with courage—and in accordance with the law—for the Jewish people and for the free world.

And what a symbol to honour the memory of Martine Benayoun on this date of 10 November. A date on which law and justice were trampled, and when injustice against Jews was but a prelude to an explosion of violence against the free world.

I speak of Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass, on 10 November 1938.

And I speak of the infamous UN General Assembly resolution of 10 November 1975—fifty years ago to the day—which denounced the national liberation of the Jewish people as a form of racism.

The struggle of Martine Benayoun is therefore far from over.

We honour her memory by continuing her work and fighting together for the dignity of women and for respect for the law.

Allow me to conclude with a personal note.

One day, Martine confided to me that she had chosen Esther as her Hebrew name.

That name suited her perfectly: she had the dignity of a queen, and Esther fought, with courage, for her people and for justice.

And this name also evokes Jean Racine, who in Esther celebrates justice and the return to Zion with the beauty of the French language:

“Rejoice, O Zion, and rise from the dust.
Shake off the garments of your captivity,
And regain your former splendour.
The roads to Zion are at last open.”

May we rebuild this convergence between Jerusalem and Paris, in the name of the values shared by France and Israel—values for which Martine Benayoun fought.
It is up to us to continue that struggle, in Martine’s memory.
יהיה זכרה ברוך — May her memory be a blessing.

 

 

Two years after that day of horror, Israel rises like a lion: scarred but unbroken, wounded yet undefeated, victorious and vigilant. And to our last hostages, we can finally say: “Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, you are free at last.”

Two years ago, hell descended upon us.

We saw, before our very eyes, families burned alive; children massacred before their parents, parents before their children; women raped and tortured; elderly women kidnapped and dragged into Gaza to the cheers of ecstatic crowds. We saw the terrified look of Shiri Bibas trying to shield her two little boys, Ariel and Kfir.

All this was filmed on GoPro cameras—with laughter.

On one of the terrorists was found a note: “Sharpen your blades and be pure in your intentions before Allah. The enemy is a disease with no cure except beheading and uprooting the hearts and livers. Attack them!”

That same day, Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ali Khamenei, congratulated Hamas. Hamas leaders in Doha praised the slaughter as they watched it live on television. The next day, students at Harvard published a letter blaming Israel. Soon after, the UN Secretary-General António Guterres declared before the Security Council that October 7 “didn’t happen in a vacuum.”

And as soon as Israel began to fight back, we were accused of genocide. Thus, the people who were victims of atrocity became accused of atrocity; the survivors of massacre were branded the perpetrators of massacre. Demonization seeks to justify the murder of Jews. Defamation seeks to strip Jews of their right to self-defences.

Even though the war has ended, the struggle has not.

Iran and its proxies have been diminished, not destroyed. Hamas has not been fully disarmed. The hatred of Jews, and of their state, is still alive—and still killing. We may rejoice in victory, but we dare not rest.

That victory was won by our soldiers: 913 gave their lives to free the hostages and to keep us safe. Let us bow our heads before them. We owe them not only our safety, but our very future.

Victory was also forged by the resilience of Israeli society and the steadfast support of the Jewish Diaspora. And it required leadership. Despite justified criticism, Prime Minister Netanyahu stood firm under immense pressure, refusing to end the war without victory. By striking Iran, he reached his Churchillian moment. President Trump, too, kept his word: he used the military option against Iran with precision and resolve. Thanks to him, our hostages are free.

Others must be thanked as well: Ron Dermer, who worked tirelessly with Washington; Steve Witkoff and Jared Kushner, who fought unceasingly for the hostages; Gideon Sa’ar, who chose to join the government at a turning point of the war and who had led Israel’s diplomatic struggle with resolve.

Now is the time to embrace those who have returned from hell; to comfort the bereaved families; and to heal the visible and invisible wounds of our soldiers.

Two years after that day of horror, Israel rises like a lion: scarred but unbroken, wounded yet undefeated, victorious and vigilant. And to our last hostages, we can finally say: “Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, you are free at last.”

Jean-Noël Barrot claims that his country’s lead on the recognition of Palestine has isolated Hamas. He misunderstands that Hamas and the PLO share the same goal and only differ on strategy.

This past Friday, the UN general assembly (UNGA) passed a resolution calling for “a peaceful settlement of the question of Palestine.” It was approved by 142 countries, including China, Iran, Myanmar, Russia, and Sudan. No doubt, the Tibetans, the Kurds, the Rohingyas, the Ukrainians, and the Darfuris will be glad to learn that those five governments believe in self-determination, in human rights, and in international law. This is the UN in a nutshell: an organization that was established by the Allies to prevent a return to the might-is-right policies of the 1930s, and that has been highjacked by autocracies to fight the free world with its own ideas and tools.

The resolution endorses the so-called New York Declaration, published jointly by France and Saudi Arabia in July. The declaration condemns Hamas for the October 7 massacres, but it also condemns Israel for responding to those massacres. This is a typical example of the UN’s moral equivalence, in that case between atrocities perpetuated against civilians by Jihadists with genocidal intent, and a democracy fighting those Jihadists to defeat them and to get back its hostages while respecting the restrictions of international law.

The resolution says that Israel must end the war, and that Hamas must abandon power and lay down its arms. Those two statements are self-contradictory, because only the Israeli army can bring about the defeat and the capitulation of Hamas. Hamas is not going to give up power and its weapons just because a UN general assembly resolution says it should. The declaration says Hamas must transfer power and weapons to the Palestinian Authority (PA) even though, in 2007, Hamas took over the PA regime in Gaza by force. By what logic would it now return it to the PA?

The New York Declaration also says that the State of Palestine will be demilitarized and democratic. This statement does not even pass the laugh test. Under Hamas, the Gaza Strip had become a huge military complex built by Iran and funded by Qatar. The fate of the West Bank would have been identical if Israel had withdrawn from it, and it will become identical if Israel were to withdraw from it. As for democracy, the PA was established 30 years ago, and it has never been democratic. Why would that change with full statehood? There are 21 Arab states today. None of them is democratic. By what logic would a 22nd Arab state led by the PLO be democratic?

Finally, the New York Declaration endorses UNGA resolution 194 from 1948, which the PLO sees as the legal basis for the so-called “right of return.” The PLO rejected the peace proposals of Ehud Barak in July 2000, of Bill Clinton in December 2000, of Ehud Olmert in September 2008, and of John Kerry in February 2014, precisely because those proposals did not include the application of the “right of return” to Israel itself.

What the PLO means by the “two-state solution” is the demise of Israel by establishing an armed state in the West Bank and Gaza, and by flooding Israel with millions of Arabs who claim descent from the refugees of 1948. This is exactly what the PLO decided in the “Phased Plan” adopted in Cairo in 1974, and this is what Arafat meant to do when he signed the Oslo agreements three decades ago.

So when French foreign minister Jean Noël Barrot says that Friday’s vote at the general assembly constitutes a defeat for Hamas, he’s being the PLO’s dupe because the PLO shares Hamas’ endgame though not its strategy. The PLO’s strategy consists of proceeding by phases, and of hiding the endgame behind international law, justice, and peace.

Mr. Barrot seems to not understand that most Israelis can no longer be fooled by this charade. A majority of Israelis agree that the PLO cannot be allowed to establish a 22nd failed, violent, and autocratic Arab state in Israel’s heartland, not least because the only purpose of such a state has always been, and always will be, to “free Palestine” from the River to the Sea.