Fraser MacDonald

Qassams, shmassams!" joked Shimon Peres in 2006. The then Israeli vice-premier was urging Israelis to calm down amid a barrage of Qassam rockets Hamas had fired from Gaza into the Israeli Negev town of Sderot. "This hysteria over the Qassams must end," he said. An Israeli defence spokesperson dismissed the rockets as "dumb firecrackers".

Such apparent fortitude has long since gone. Now as Israel's President, Peres repeats the standard line about the defence against Palestinian terror.

Announcing the recent Operation Cast Lead, he commented: "I have not heard until now a single person who could explain to us reasonably: why are they firing rockets against Israel?" There is no dearth of comment about why the militants are in combat against Israel, but few have asked why they are firing rockets.

Qassams are crude missiles, a form of "kitchen technology" that can be propelled by a combustible combination of sugar and fertiliser. The Israel Defence Forces used to claim mockingly that they were made from "poles stolen from road signs". To the extent that one can talk about design, Qassams prioritise ease of production rather than accuracy. The missile men of Hamas can aim for Israeli towns across the border, but without a guidance system this will always be more in hope than expectation.

Yet these devices have been the primary justification for a staggering loss of human life in the past month.

From the first firing of a Qassam in 2001 to just before the outbreak of the most recent conflict, more than 4000 Qassams were fired into southern Israel. They killed 11 Israelis. More than 3000 Palestinians were killed by the Israeli Defence Forces in the same period. This most recent conflict has seen another three Israeli fatalities from Hamas rocket fire and more than 1300 Palestinian deaths. With such body counts, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realise that the Qassam is not, by any standard, an effective military weapon for Hamas. So why have they used it?

"The damage caused by these primitive rockets is minimal," says Avi Shlaim, professor of international relations at Oxford, "but the psy- chological impact is immense. The public demand protection from its government." Mahmoud A-Zahar, a former Hamas foreign minister, says rocket attacks are favoured because they "greatly disrupt daily lives and government administration and can make a much bigger impact on the government".

Qassams are, of course, designed to cause fear and uncertainty - to make Israelis feel unsafe. They are less deadly than suicide attacks, which have been notable by their absence since 2006. In the preceding decade, they caused the deaths of nearly 300 Israelis.

So why does Hamas persevere with Qassams? Because they are more lethal than throwing shoes and no less symbolic.

For the past 60 years, rockets have constituted the "language" of international relations. The rocket has figured as the diplomatic big stick, from the Cuban missile crisis to the recent sabre-rattling between India and Pakistan. If the Cold War was a matter of "missile envy", to use Helen Caldicott's memorable phrase, today's structures of international power are no less enthralled by this totem.

Hamas's earlier reliance on suicide attacks was counterproductive: not only was it a barbarous tactic that made the Palestinians look like the sole aggressors, it was simply outside the normal protocol of geopolitical contest. In this sense, Hamas can be seen to have "graduated" to rocket technology, however primitive theirs might be. For them, a Qassam might not kill the enemy but it does speak their language.

Against an overwhelmingly superior adversary, the power of the Qassam is not just that it can kill people, but that it is a message the recipient state has no choice but to receive.

The Qassam rocket is insulting precisely because it doesn't even need to hit its target to hit its target. The American Middle East analyst Rashid Khalidi recently noted that all Hamas had to do to proclaim victory was - like Hizbollah in Lebanon - to remain standing. By firing off their "missives", Hamas remind the international community that, despite all attempts at diplomatic isolation, they are still the corresponding partner if this armed dialogue is to give way to negotiations. Unsurprisingly, Israel is working hard on its "Iron Dome": a highly sophisticated radar system to meet incoming Qassams with interceptor missiles called Tamirs. Defense Minister Ehud Barak expects it will be operational by next year. Not only will it provide Israeli civilians with relief from rockets, it might give the Israeli state an effective means to inhibit Hamas's "communiques".

As the earlier part of the intifada has shown, the grim prospect is that Hamas abandon the symbolism of the rocket and return once again to deadlier means.

The unforgiving precision of the suicide bomber might indeed make Qassams look like dumb firecrackers. But it is easy for me to say that: my family doesn't live in Sderot. Fraser MacDonald is a Scottish academic who teaches geopolitics at the University of Melbourne. He is writing a history of rocketry.

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