The Peak of Arrogance: Power, Oppression, and the Struggle for Truth in Palestine

“The grave robbers Have not left for the historian Any evidence Pointing to my existence.”
— Mahmoud Darwish

These lines are not metaphors. They are a mirror. They reflect the lived reality of Palestinians whose homes, histories, and humanity are being erased in real time. The grave robbers are not just those who dig into the earth; they are those who rewrite maps, rename streets, and reframe theft as law.

In a debate, attorney Elica Le Bon invoked a familiar analogy: a “cop and a robber,” both pointing guns at each other. She cast Israel as the cop and Palestinians as the criminals. But her analogy, like so many others, collapses under the weight of history. As Mahmoud Darwish reminds us: “Israel stole the homeland.” Palestinians are not robbers; they are the robbed.

Elica’s framing is not just flawed, it is a projection. She hides behind the “Hamas excuse,” failing to see that the very argument she makes is the one her conscience may need to confront. Her European appearance shields her from the racial profiling that defines life for Arabs and Middle Easterners. Israelis like her pass freely through systems that target others, further evidence that they are not treated as people of the region.

Mirror of the Soul
When we argue, it is rarely the other we confront
but our darkness stretches across the room in projection.
Until we dare to face the mirror within and name the shadows that live in us,
we are not reasoning, we are denying.
We strike the faults we secretly carry, and say, “Tag, you’re it.”
But the soul knows. It whispers: “This is yours to own.”
Only when we are open to listening, examining what we cast onto others within us,
do our words begin to carry light.

This is not just a philosophical reflection; it is a spiritual one. Often, the argument we attack in others is the truth our soul tries to get us to hear. Pharaoh accused Moses, upon him peace, of destruction, while he was enslaving Moses’ people. Today, many accuse Palestinians of violence, while ignoring the ongoing violence that displaced them.

A striking example of this projection unfolded in 2021 in the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood of East Jerusalem. In a now-viral video, Palestinian activist Muna El-Kurd confronts an Israeli settler who had taken over part of her family’s home:

Muna El-Kurd: “You are stealing my house.”

Yaakov (Justin) Fauci: “And if I don’t steal it, someone else is gonna steal it.”

Muna: “No! No one is allowed to steal it.”

Muna: “Yaacov, you know this is not your house.”

Yaakov: “Yes, but if I go, you don’t go back. So what’s the problem?”

This exchange is not just about one house. It is about the normalization of theft. It is about the brazenness of a settler who, in a New York accent, justifies ongoing displacement and dispossession with the logic of inevitability. “If I don’t steal it, someone else will.” That is not a defense; it is a confession.

The man calling himself Yaakov Fauci is, in fact, Justin C. Fauci, a former Long Island resident with a criminal record for financial fraud. After reportedly defrauding the U.S. government of over $100 million, he disappeared—only to reemerge in East Jerusalem as a settler, backed by the U.S.-based organization Nahalat Shimon International.

In an interview with Vice, he introduced himself as “Jacob,” claiming he wasn’t there to “keep Palestinians out,” but to “keep Jews in.” He added, chillingly:

“Whether it’s me, someone else, a monkey, or a giraffe—they’re not coming back into this house ever.”

This is the face of occupation: a man with a criminal past, illegally occupying a home in a neighborhood filled with descendants of those displaced in the 1948 Nakba. And yet, he is protected. Empowered. Even celebrated.

Then, former U.S. President Donald Trump, who built his platform on vilifying immigrants and branding them as criminals, was an avid supporter of settlers like Justin Fauci. The irony is staggering: a man who decried “illegals” in the U.S. championed illegal colonists in Palestine.

So the question must be asked—of Trump, of Elica, of all who defend this system:

Is the argument you are making the one your soul is raising within you to face?

Until we confront our own mirror, we are not communicating; we are projecting. We are wrapping our own actions in the language of rationalizations and hurling them at others.

Let us begin not with accusation but with reason and reflection. Let us clarify our thoughts before we claim to speak for justice, law, and order.