Holy ground : researching nationalistic, far-right football hooliganism in Israel

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Holy Ground

Researching Nationalistic, Far-Right

Football Hooliganism in Israel

Master Thesis

Cultural and Social Anthropology 8-11-2016

by Hugo Sommer

6131743

hugosommer89@gmail.com under the supervision of

Dr. A.T. Strating second and third readers Dr. B. Kalir & Dr. D.R. Guinness

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Most people think Marv is crazy, but I don’t believe that. I’m no shrink and I’m not saying I’ve got Marv all figured out or anything, but “crazy” just doesn’t explain him. Not to me. Sometimes I think he’s […] a big brutal kid who never learned the ground rules on how people are supposed to act around each other. But that doesn’t have the right

ring to it either. No, it’s more like there’s nothing wrong with Marv, nothing at all--except that he had the rotten luck of being born at the wrong time in history. He’d have been okay if he’d been born a couple of thousand years ago.

He’d be right at home on some ancient battlefield, swinging an axe into somebody’s face. Or in a roman arena, taking a sword to other gladiators like him. - from Frank Miller’s Sin City: A Dame to Kill For.

Schrijven is natuurlijk het leukste wat er is,

maar aan het schrijven komen is een lege, saaie verschrikking.1

- Remco Campert

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Acknowledgements

Without wanting to sound overly dramatic, I can safely say that writing this thesis was one of the hardest things I have ever done. By now more than a year and a half has passed since I had a serious accident - right before I planned to start writing - the physical and mental recovery of which is in some ways still ongoing. The entanglement of my recovery with the writing process has made the production of the thirty thousand or so words before you an even more daunting task than it would have been, the main reason why I found the inclusion of the Remco Campert quote above fitting.

In the end I am relieved, proud and thankful that this project has reached its completion. It would have been impossible without the help of many. A few I feel obligated to name here.

First of all, I’d like to thank Alex Strating for his patience and understanding throughout my recovery, as well as the more conventional sharing of ideas and insight concerning the thesis. Both Marieke Brand and Vincent de Rooij I owe gratitude for their facilitations en route to the completion of my degree; providing me with the opportunity and space to figure this thing out in my own time.

My parents have been there for me in too many ways to list here. I can only say that I can’t imagine how things would have turned out if it wasn’t for them and how they approached me, my recovery and my thesis - when things were at their darkest they were the shimmer of unconditional support.

Mirjam, my little sister who has turned into someone to build on, I’ve learned more from you then you know. Joost, thank you for always being able to cheer me up. But you won’t read this… “pech gehad”. Erwin Nuijten has contributed in many ways. From sparring with me on the theories that ended up in chapter two to simply watching some TV and taking a load of; from being the recipient of my many rants and raves on WhatsApp to reading the entire draft of this thesis and providing useful notes and critique. Luuk van Os, who apparently had nothing better to do in Tokyo than proofread a thesis, I thank you for your notes as well. Job Römer, showing me the strength of simplicity when I could only see the more complicated solutions. All three of you, together with Tim Ligtvoet, Lothar van Riel, Joeri Treep and Nick Romeijn, thank you for providing me with some much needed support and distraction from time to time.

I wish to thank Sacha van de Lande for guarding my sanity; keeping me grounded in those moments I was floating away. Finally, Maurits Mayer, the way you took your role meant a lot. You truly went above and beyond the call of duty, something I’ll never forget.

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1

Prologue

It’s January 2014 when I’m in Israel for the first time. It was just a regular holiday I took with my friend Tom, not a football trip or anything like that. The both of us had been interested in going to Israel for a while, mostly because of the history to be found in Jerusalem. It wasn’t until a few days before we were to leave on our trip I found out the Tel Aviv derby would be held during our time in Israel. I am a season ticket holder for Ajax, and had an acquaintance from visiting the Ajax stadium who I knew was Jewish and had some Israeli roots. It was him who told me about the Maccabi Tel Aviv-Hapoel Tel Aviv game. When I was talking to him about my upcoming trip, he said he was able to get me some tickets for the game. Both Tom and I are football fans, so we thought it was a fun idea to add this game to our itinerary. I didn’t think too much of it. At the time I didn’t realize the nature of my acquaintance’s connections there. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.

Tom and I had been in Tel Aviv for a few days and had been trying to meet up with the people who would take us to the game. It wasn’t working out that well. Most of our text messages were left unanswered and if they did answer it was a short message that didn’t help very much. We finally managed to arrange for a meeting at Bloomfield, the Maccabi home ground, to get our tickets the day before the game. We had been there at the agreed time but no one was there. After having waited for about an hour - still there because they had send us a message saying they would be “right there” - they finally showed up:

Suddenly two cars race down the street next to the park at a speed that seems completely inappropriate for the road they are driving on. Tom and I were facing the other way but the sound of the engines revving made us turn around while the cars are still quite far away from us. Just before the cars race past the gate of the fence surrounding the stadium grounds they brake hard, turn onto the grounds with screeching tires, accelerate again, race towards us and brake hard. The cars come to a standstill pretty much right in front of us. Straight away the doors fly open and between 8 and 10 people emerge from the cars. All are looking rather intimidating. Most of them are wearing outdoor sports clothing: The North Face jackets with jeans or Adidas slacks, these kind of clothes. It’s the kind of attire I recognize from Ajax games back home, these are the clothes of the more ‘serious’ - as they like to describe themselves - football fans who are associated with violence and hooliganism.

This whole sequence of events is very intimidating. After having waited for so long, to be blitzed like this out of nowhere leaves me at a loss for a response.

“Ajax?” one of the guys asks loudly.

“Errrhm, yeah…” Tom mumbles while I can’t even muster that response. My eyes are drawn towards one of the men who, unlike the others, walked away from us and towards a few large containers about 20 meters from where we are standing. He is scavenging through them. What on earth is he doing?

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2 Most of them walk up towards us, shake our hands and give us a pat on the back while

introducing themselves. Still overwhelmed, I don’t register any of their names. I’m too busy recomposing myself and shaking hands to be able to remember something as trivial as a name.

Last to greet us is the man who was searching the insides of the containers. He seems to have found what he was looking for: a straight, thick and very hard looking wooden stick. He slaps the inside of his hand with it while staring me straight in the eyes. I feel a bit scared. I notice one or two of the others are laughing quietly, clearly amused by his behavior. In a

moment of clarity, I decide to walk up to him and greet him. He laughs and shakes my hand. I’m happy I read the situation right. He says his name, Marv, and walks over to Tom to greet him. He then walks towards a small fence behind us, hits it as hard as he can with the stick before throwing it back into the container with considerable force. He walks off without giving us another look and joins some of the group who are talking and laughing a few meters away.

None of the men here is one of those I had exchanged texts with earlier. We stand around and talk. More and more people arrive, all of whom greet a few people before joining one of the many subgroups that have now formed. The people from the cars all appear to be 20 years or older, some looking more like 30. Those that arrived later, most by foot, are mostly kids around 14 to 16 years old. The people in the group Tom and me are standing with all speak English, some better than others. They appear to be the leaders. Everybody that arrives walks over to our group first to say hello before moving on to one of the other groups. After a while a tall and slightly overweight man of around forty years old arrives. He walks over to us and says something in Hebrew. Someone in our group, who just moments before had reintroduced himself as Barak, shouts something in Hebrew. Everybody springs into action. The older man who just arrived walks towards a large blue gate that leads into Bloomfield.

“He is from the club, the groundskeeper.” Barak explains. He then shouts some commands to a few of the kids who grab some heavy looking bags from the trunk of one of the cars.

Once inside, everybody appears to know what to do. I’m not really sure what the idea is. “Barak, what are we doing? What is the plan?”

“During the game every supporter holds up a piece of paper, together it will show a text when viewed from a distance.”

“Okay.”

“So now we go and put the paper in the right places. Go over there to help Eran, he speaks good English.”

Tom and I walk over to Eran and start helping out. It is a rather monotone and boring job. The sun is shining however so it’s not too bad. After a while a few of the guys leave to get beer. As they return it is Eran who speaks.

“Nevermind this shit, come with me.”

Me, Tom, Eran, Barak and most of the older guys sit down together, open a can of beer and drink. We sit around in the sun relaxing while the kids keep on working. Seniority apparently has its advantages.

We are asked a lot of football related questions about Ajax, Amsterdam and the Netherlands. Slowly the nature of the questions shifts. The subject matter moves from football to football hooliganism. In the beginning these questions are more general: what clubs have to most violent supporters, which clubs have the biggest rivalries, how does the police act around the stadium and things like that. As the conversation progresses however the questions become more personal. Have we ever seen fighting, who are the strongest fighters amongst the Ajax fans? Slowly the assumption underneath these questions begins to become dauntingly clear. They think we are football hooligans. As I’m realizing this, the same kind of process is taking place on the other side of the conversation. As we fail to provide satisfying answers to their questions it is

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3 becoming clearer to them that we are not football hooligans. The cards are on the table. But it doesn’t appear to have any immediate consequence. The conversation flows away from football violence rather naturally, we are handed another beer and we simply continue hanging out and having a good time. I’m enjoying this afternoon. There is something unusual, eerie and fun about what we are doing; hanging out in a near empty football stadium, a place normally defined and shaped by the huge numbers of people present.

When almost all the jobs for the afternoon seem to be done - only a few of the kids are still busy at the other side of the stadium – the group we are sitting with starts getting ready to leave. While we walk through the blue gate someone whose name I once again forgot walks up to us.

“What are you guys doing later today?” he asks.

“We don’t really have any plans yet. We just figured we’d go here and see what would happen.” Tom answers.

“We really didn’t know what to expect or how long it would take so we didn’t really schedule anything after this.” I add.

“Okay, so if you don’t have any plans, if you want you can come with us to…”

He isn’t able to finish the sentence. Barak, walking in front of us, has suddenly turned around and starts speaking to the guy in Hebrew. Obviously neither Tom nor I understand what he is saying but from the looks of it he is telling the guy off.

“Ah yes, I’m sorry my friends. I thought we could all meet up later today but this is not possible.” “Don’t worry about it. It is like we said. We don’t have any plans and kept the evening free to do whatever we wanted to do.” I say.

“Tomorrow a few of us are meeting early at a gas station nearby, to have a few beers and get into that match day spirit you know?” Barak says. “If you want you can join us there.”

“Yeah sure, sounds good.”

“Where exactly is it? And what time will you be there?” Tom asks.

“Around 4 in the afternoon I think. Give me your phone number, I’ll have someone text you the location when we get there. You can show this to any taxi driver.”

We exchange numbers and say our goodbyes.

“Were we just uninvited to something later tonight?” Tom asks me as we walk towards the main road.

I laugh. “Sure looked like it didn’t it?”

When we arrive at the main road, we waive down a taxi and head back to our hostel.

The next day, as we near the gas station, it’s easy to spot the group of Maccabi supporters. Most of them are clearly recognizable by the club colors they are wearing. The cab driver pulls up about 100 meters away from it. “You walk the last bit okay? I don’t go close.” he says while pointing at the Hapoel badge hanging from his rear view mirror.

“Sure, no problem.” Tom says while handing him the money. “Keep the change.” “Thank you. Enjoy the game.”

I close the door behind me and the taxi drives away as we start walking towards the group. I recognize a few people from the day before. Barak is there, as well as Marv who left quite the impression by dumpster diving for weapons. I also recognize Ben, one of the people I had contact with online and by phone, from his Facebook profile picture. He spots us as we get closer and walks towards us.

“Good to meet you finally,” he shakes my hand, “everything good so far? You like our country?” “Yeah it’s been fun so far,” I answer, “curious about Jerusalem as well.”

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4 “No neither of us has been to Israel before.” Tom says while shaking Ben’s hand.

“You will like it. It’s especially good if you are a tourist, a lot of things to see there. But,” a grin forms on his face, “it’s no Tel Aviv.”

We continue making small talk while we join the rest of the group. We say hi to those we recognize from yesterday and mingle. Barak tells us to go inside the gas station and buy some beers. As I walk in I see Marv is inside.

He greets us with a loud “Ajax!”

“I’m sorry mate,” Tom says while approaching him, “but I completely forgot your name. You know how it is, if you hear too many names on one day you will forget most.”

He doesn’t answer and gives a puzzled look. Two other Maccabi supporters laugh. “Marv no speak the English,” one of them says, “wait, wait, I speak to him.” He translates to Hebrew.

“Yes! Good! Tov! I Marv.” Marv says triumphantly. “Nice to see you again Marv.” Tom replies.

“Drink! Drink!” Marv replies while pointing at the beers in the refrigerator.

I grab a few local beers and pay for them at the counter. We walk outside and open our drinks. I hand one of the cans to Marv.

“Good! L’chaim!” he says loudly and takes a sip.

We hang around the gas station for a while longer, hanging out and talking to Barak, Ben and a few others. Like the day before most new arrivals first walk over to us to say hello and then peel off towards another cluster of people.

“We must be standing with the big shots.” Tom remarks in Dutch. I guess he’s right.

After a while someone else joins the group who introduces himself as Avi. He too is held in high regard by the other members in the group. He doesn’t walk around shaking hands, but people do come to him in order to shake his. I talk with him for a while and instantly take a liking to him. He is clearly an intelligent and open minded person who comes across very relaxed and easy going. It helps he speaks near perfect English. We stand, talk and drink for quite some time before Barak and Ben put the group in motion. They shout a few things in Hebrew. The only part of it I understand is “yallah”.

“This word, ‘yallah’, it means go right? Like ‘vamos’ in Spanish? I thought it was an Arabic word?” I ask Avi.

“Yes, it means go. But it’s Hebrew, we use this word.” “Okay, I thought it was Arab.”

“The Arabs use it too but they don’t own it.” Avi sounds cold and harsh.

I’m a little surprised by his uptight answer. It somehow seems at odds with his relaxed demeanor.

“So we are going to the stadium then?” Tom asks, changing the subject while we start walking. “Yes.”

“Isn’t it a bit early? The game isn’t for a few more hours’ right?”

“We need to be there early to get all of our stuff inside, like the drums and the flags, those kind of things.”

“But… do we need around, what…” Tom pauses and looks around, “35 to 40 people for that?” “There will be more people, this is not the whole group.” Avi has a sly smile on his face. “You misunderstand the situation I think. We are not there to help carry the stuff inside, we are there for protection. This is the derby you know, Hapoel know we are bringing stuff inside so they might try and steal our things.”

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5 “No no, not now. Don’t worry… They know there will be a lot of us so they won’t show up. That’s the whole point.”

“Ah okay, I get it. A bit of cold war tactics. Mutually assured destruction.” Avi laughs. “Something like that. We Israelis know about tactics my friend.” “What do you want to do?” Barak asks us as all the ‘stuff’ has been brought inside. “What do you mean?” Tom looks puzzled. “We have options?”

“Well, you can go inside and help organize all everything inside if you want.” Barak points at the gates and those passing it.

“Or you can stay outside with those who…” Eran seems to be looking for words, “who are… well… more combat ready.” He finally says with a playful grin stretching from ear to ear. Both Tom and I laugh this remark away. By now we are used to and no longer shocked by this playful depiction of constant danger. First there was the speeding cars, then Marv’s little theatrical display when we first met, the cold war tactics conversation and now this; it all just doesn’t appear to be much more than a mirage intended to impress.

“What will you and Avi and the rest of the guys do?” I ask. “We stay outside.” Eran says.

“No beer inside.” Barak nods at our drinks before taking a sip of his own. “You can’t buy alcohol inside?” I ask.

“No.”

“Well, that settles it then…”

“Oh yeah, we’re staying outside.” Tom adds jokingly.

“Good, we wait for about five minutes longer I think and then we’ll head back to the Yellow.” Barak explains.

“Yellow?” I ask.

“It’s what we call the gas station.”

We arrived back at ‘the Yellow’ with around 20 people, the rest of the group had gone inside the stadium to prepare. By now though, the group has swelled up to about 50 again with the addition of new arrivals. The weather is good, the beer is cold and the people are friendly. Suddenly a small part of the group, including Barak, starts walking. I’m not really sure what is going on.

“Are they going to the stadium?” I ask Tom in Dutch. “Yeah, must be right?”

“Looks like a lot of people are staying here. Who do we join?” “Well,” Tom hesitates for a moment, “I guess… follow Barak?” “Sure.”

We start walking towards Barak’s group.

“Wait,” we hear Avi behind us and turn around, “if you want to join, then you can come with me. But we wait a few more minutes, okay? We don’t all go at once.”

Before we have a chance to reply, Avi walks off and starts talking with other people. “Well… Okay… I guess we wait then.” Tom looks slightly annoyed.

Eran walks up to us.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “we will all go.”

“But what…” I say before being interrupted by Eran.

“We just don’t want those guys,” he nods to the two police officers across the street, “to track our every move. So we split up. They can’t follow all of us.”

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6 “Ken.” Avi replies in turn.

‘Ken’ is one of the few words I have managed to learn so far, it means ‘yes’. Eran says something else in Hebrew before facing back to us.

“Okay,” he has switched back to English, “you will join Avi now. I will see you guys in a little bit.” 6 of us start walking. Tom, Avi, me and 3 others I haven’t really spoken to before. Besides Tom and me, the group doesn’t speak. We walk in the direction of the stadium. Avi looks a little tense, he is constantly watching his surroundings. I don’t think too much of it. Then, to my surprise, we turn left.

“But… what…” I mumble.

“Isn’t the stadium that way?” Tom points in the other direction. “We no go to the Bloomfield.” One of the people I don’t know answers.

“We’re going to a more quiet gas station.” Avi explains with a commanding tone that doesn’t leave room for any follow up questions.

We walk on until we see another gas station. I wouldn’t exactly describe it as ‘more quiet’. It is located along a far busier street. Cars are constantly racing by. But we don’t walk all the way up to the gas station itself. Instead we turn into a very quiet little alleyway just before it. Waiting just around the corner, out of sight until you walk into the alley, is Barak’s group. Everybody shakes everybody’s hand. It’s not really to say hello, after all we saw them just moments before, instead it looks more as if people are congratulating each other. A nervous feeling starts to creep up on me: this is not normal pre match behavior. I look at Tom. Judging from his look he has come to the same conclusion.

“What’s going on?” he asks in Dutch. “I don’t know…”

“What’s going on?” English this time.

“You’ll see.” Avi smiles, clearly enjoying himself. No longer franticly looking around, he has returned to his calm and relaxed nature from before. Casually leaning against the wall besides him, he lights a cigarette. Another groups arrives. Again everybody looks happy and relieved. People shake hands. This repeats itself twice more, Marv being in the first group and Eran leading the final group as Avi led ours. Now that everybody is apparently here we are around 25-30 people again. Barak, Eran, Avi, Marv and 3 others stand apart from everybody else,

deliberating amongst themselves.

Some kid is standing next to me. I estimate him to be no more than 15 or maybe 16 years old. He is by far the youngest of everyone here.

“This good yes?” he says with immense excitement in his voice. “What is good? Nobody told me what is going on yet…”

“Hapoel. They fans sends us text, you know? On the telephone?” I nod, afraid of what’s coming.

“They say us to come, if we not like the pussy, you know, like the chicken. They say we come if we not like the girl.”

Fuck.

I walk towards Tom.

“Have you heard what is going on?”

“Yes,” Tom answers “this just got real.” Tom laughs nervously.

“Yeah, I… I guess.” I feel strangely distorted from my emotions. It’s not fear I’m feeling, it’s more like a disconnect between me, my emotions and my surroundings. Everything seems further away. The only thing that is close is my breathing, focused around a tense knot in my chest. “Yallah!” Barak shouts.

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7 The entire group starts moving. Tom and me are in the middle of the pack. We walk out of the alley, towards the gas station. We turn onto a large street with lots of traffic. There are four lanes, two on one side and two on the other, separated by a large esplanade. We walk along with the traffic on our side of the road, taking up the entire sidewalk. A gap in the traffic appears.

Barak, who is walking at the front of the group, yells “Smolla!”

The entire group instantly shifts to the left, off the sidewalk and onto the road. Everybody follows Barak. We are now walking in the middle of the street.

Honking behind us. I turn around and see traffic coming. The group doesn’t care; we stay in the middle of the road. Traffic is forced to a standstill behind us until we shift direction again. Of the road, onto the esplanade. We walk with an increasingly faster pace.

I see Avi in front rolling his belt around his hand with the buckle forward, creating an improvised knuckleduster.

Still no emotion. No thoughts.

I look to my right. I see the young kid. He looks very tense, yet at the same time he has a paradoxically happy spring in his step. His eyes are fixed forwards.

I look to my left. I see Tom. He looks back at me. We both laugh. It’s not a happy laugh. It’s not a nervous laugh either. It’s is a laugh expressing our inability to find words.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look around. Marv has an insane grin on his face. He is holding a small metal pipe in his right hand. He looks me straight in the eyes, clenches his left fist and widens his eyes. The insanity there is intimidating, the eyes scream ‘Come on!!’ at me. Marv jogs to the front.

Tom and I simultaneously hold back a little bit. As if our instinct is telling us we are better off at the back if Marv is jogging to the front.

“Yamina!” someone shouts. Multiple people excitedly point to the groups 2 o’clock. There is a side street there. Have they seen something?

The group switches direction again. Everybody starts walking even faster. Onto the road. Increasing tempo again, everybody in our group is now running. Cars honk loudly. I look over my shoulder and see cars brake hard in order not to hit us.

The group starts sprinting. Towards the side street. Was this the place everyone was pointing at? Did someone see something over here? I hear loud screaming and shouting. But where is this coming from? A bottle soars over my head. Surprised disorientation. Are they behind us? I turn and I see... Oh fuck me. I feel it. Fear.

A large group of people is running towards us carrying sticks and other improvised weapons. Sound seizes to exist. Reality is happening in slow motion. Just seconds ago I was almost at the back of the group, but the back has now suddenly become the front. I turn again. I want to run away. But I can’t. We are boxed in by a small wall in front, some buildings to the right and a few parked cars on the left. Trapped, I am forced to turn around once more. The group running towards us is coming closer and closer. Projectiles are flying overhead. Their vanguard reaches our group. Fighting commences.

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8 The sound I hear is as if it is an echo from something happening far away. I see Tom is in front of me, still on the road. He walks backwards, trying to get away from the fighting. He trips over the edge of the sidewalk. I see him lying there on his back, about 2 meters in front of me. Someone is walking menacingly towards him. He is about to hit Tom. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Eran hits the man in the chest with a 2 legged flying kick. Both fall down. Eran and Tom get up. Tom stumbles backwards, away from the fight. Eran runs forward, towards it.

Something hits me in the chest. I stumble back a few steps. The air is completely knocked out of me. It is hard to breathe. I see a large plastic Coca-Cola bottle still filled with Cola on the ground in front of me. Clearly it was the bottle that hit me.

As I draw a deep breath, I wake from the slow motion trance like state I was in. Sound comes rushing back. Reality regains its normal pace. Chaos is everywhere. I have no idea who is who. I realize I need to get to the front of the row of parked cars and get around them before being able to run away. I run towards someone I don’t recognize standing next to the forward most car. He is about 15 centimeters shorter than me and doesn’t see me coming until the very last moment. I see a sudden look of surprise and fear in his eyes. He falls over as I run into him. Only one thing on my mind. Get away.

I step over whoever it was I just ran over. I’m at the front of the forward most car now, I turn and run into safety. I look over my shoulder and see Tom and some others rounding the cars as well, all running away.

I sprint down the empty street. At the end of the street I take a right and run halfway down that street before slowing down. Tom slows down next to me. Adrenaline is still pumping through our veins. We both start laughing franticly.

“Ho-ly fucking shit!” Tom exclaims loudly. “That was…” “Bloody insane!” I finish his sentence.

“I didn’t think I’d ever…” “I know, I know!”

The young kid runs passed us. “Come, follow me!” he calls out.

We run after him. We keep running for a while, finally slowing down just before a corner. The kid puts his belt back on, only now I notice he had the same improvised knuckleduster wrapped around his hand as Avi.

“No weapons?” he asks us. “Police, they see weapon, they fuck you.” “No weapons.” I say.

“Good.”

We walk around the corner. Bloomfield’s entrance is in front of us. The street is full of football fans. I notice one or two people from the alley, blending in perfectly with the crowd. Near the entrance I spot Ben.

“Everything okay?” he asks. “Yeah all good.” Tom answers. “Holy shit man,” I say, “that was…”

“No,” Ben interrupts me, “not here, not now. Go inside, you can talk there.” I look around and notice all the security personnel and a few police officers. “See you inside then.” Tom says.

Tom and I go inside and hang out for a bit. After a while Eran and Avi come in. We follow them towards a good spot to watch the game, right behind the goal. A few kids, about 12 to 14 years old, had been standing in our spot just seconds before we arrived.

“They save this spot for us.” Avi explains. “So, what did you think of the fight?” Eran asks.

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9 “What a rush man, it was something else…” I say.

“A thrill.” Tom adds.

“It always is.” Avi has a fatherly smile on his face.

“We got our ass kicked.” Eran says. “Those cowards ambushed us.” “What exactly happened? It was all so fast. A bit chaotic.”

“They sent us a text, telling us to come. They knew we would be coming from the side that we did because we couldn’t cut through the park without the police spotting us.”

“They put two of their kids at the corner. One of them gave us the finger.” “They chose that spot. They had us boxed in.” Avi says.

“Those two kids could easily pass between the wall and that parked car, but not us. They knew this. So they waited, we didn’t see them. When we ran for the kids, the cowards attacked us from behind.”

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10

Introduction

When thinking about football hooliganism, Israel is not the first country that comes to mind. Yet - as the prologue has already made clear - football hooliganism does exist there. This thesis aims to provide insight into the phenomenon of football hooliganism by researching it in its Israeli context.

Spaaij (2006) provides us with a standard work on the subject of hooliganism, Understanding Football Hooliganism: A Comparison of Six Western European Football Clubs. As the title already gives away, his study is a comparative work. Researching hooliganism at 6 different football clubs from 3 European countries - FC Barcelona, RCD Espanyol, Sparta Rotterdam, Feyenoord Rotterdam, West Ham United F.C. and Fulham F.C. - Spaaij manages to paint a vivid picture of football hooliganism as a transnational phenomenon that is still deeply locally specific in each of its appearances. I will take the framework Spaaij uses for researching each of these clubs and apply it to the hooligan group of Israeli football club Maccabi Tel Aviv F.C., the Maccabi Fanatics. By doing so I will add another case to the larger body of comparative cases.

My research was done through participant observation during a two-month period spanning from early January 2015 until the beginning of March 2015. A year prior to my official research period I made the trip to Israel during which the events in the prologue transpired. Hooligans tend to be wary of outsiders, so gaining access and overcoming the distrust of hooligans towards the researcher can prove troublesome (Giulianotti 1995). It was the serendipity - if one is still able to talk about serendipity when it involves a large fight - described in the prologue that provided me with instant access to my research population and allowed me to overcome the often time consuming problems of gaining access

described by Giulianotti. It did pose me with a different problem however. Instead of the danger of ‘going native’, I was considered more of a native then I actually was. I was not considered a full-fledged member of the group but in most settings people saw me as a football supporter rather than someone who was actually studying them and their behavior.

Bridging the gap between the researcher and the researched is for a large part the aim of participant observation, so this is not necessarily a problem. However, it did pose some problems with informed consent. By the time I started my research I was, due to my previous trip, already widely recognized2_{and accepted in the group. Since it was impossible to explain to every Maccabi supporter I}

would encounter - hooligan or not - that I would be doing research and what that research would entail, most people considered me a fellow football supporter who just happened to ask questions every now

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11 and then because he was from a different country. There are simply too many fans to explain the whole story to everyone. I did tell a number of hooligans at the core of the group the reason for my prolonged presence and the nature of my research. They gave me their blessing and permission to do my research on the condition of anonymity. Obviously, I have held up this condition and changed the names of all of my respondents. ‘Marv’ was renamed after the Sin City character, the rest are renamed after Maccabi Tel Aviv players. At his request I have also changed ‘Tom’ his name.

Defining hooliganism

Now before we move on to anything else, let’s set out to define what it is that football hooliganism actually entails. This can be more problematic than it would at first appear. A wide variety of incidents related to a football context are often quickly labeled together as football hooliganism. Media, law enforcers or politicians are often just as quick to call an incident where a fan - angry over a referee’s decision - throws his lighter onto the pitch football hooliganism as they would an all-out brawl like in the prologue. ‘Football hooliganism’ in this sense is not a concept we can work with, it is too often used as a catch all label used to demark any illegal, unruly or unwanted behavior. Self-described hooligans would also disagree with this catch all definition. They see themselves as different from other fans, they consider themselves the elite amongst football fans and do not appreciate being lumped together with just anyone committing some sort of minor transgression in a football related context.

I will follow Spaaij in his definition of hooliganism as ‘the competitive violence of socially organized fan groups in football, principally directed against opposing fan groups’ (2006: 11). I agree with this definition for a number of reasons. First I think the competitive element is crucial in

understanding hooliganism. Violence alone is not enough to constitute football hooliganism, there is more purpose to it than senseless destruction. Hooligans and hooligan groups try to prove their worth vis-à-vis others, often - but not always - opposing fan groups. There is also a sense of competition between individual members of the same hooligan group. The final element in the definition above, is the statement that hooligan groups are socially organized. This is important because this sets apart the hooligan from just any individual committing a transgression in a football related context. The social organization demarcates hooliganism as a community of people sharing a certain set of believes and goals.

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12 Maccabi Fanatics

Looking at the characteristics of hooligan groups, members are almost always predominantly male and between the ages of 15 and 25 years old (Spaaij 2006: 334-335). For the most part this is true for Maccabi Tel Aviv as well, although on average the age of the group members seems to be a bit older than described by Spaaij. While the youngest group members are around 14 or 15 years old, they are not considered to be full members. They were constantly referred to as “the kids”, useful as of a work force that could be called upon to do a number of menial or “boring” tasks.

I would say that full membership of the Maccabi Fanatics isn’t possible until someone reaches the age of 18 - the age that one is required to enter military service in Israel - with most of the younger core members around the age of 21. I noticed one exception to this rule of thumb, the younger boy who plays a part in the prologue. He was 15 at the time of those events and turned 17 while I was in Israel for my research period. He was treated with the respect appropriate for a core member, both by core members and ‘kids’ alike. The exceptionality of this was often expressed, which both kept other ‘kids’ from expecting the same sort of treatment and further enhanced the status of this particular boy3_.

Looking at the other end of the age disparity given by Spaaij I would say that here too we need to adjust upward. Spaaij does remark that at the core of hooligan groups, people are sometimes older (Ibid.), something that is definitively the case at Maccabi Tel Aviv. A lot of the people that play a central role in this research are in their late twenties or early thirties. Then there are a number of people who are older still. They however, are semi-retired older members who tend to have become more fluently associated with the group over time.

While the core of hooligan groups is usually relatively fixed, they do tend to have very fluid unfixed boundaries (Spaaij 2006: 40). The further you go from the group’s core members, towards the less fanatic fans, the more fluid association with the group becomes. At its edges are fans who perhaps occasionally wear a Maccabi Fanatics scarf instead of official club merchandise and sings along with songs during games but rarely interact with the core members. These people enjoy associating

themselves with fanatical support but are not considered insiders by either themselves or core members (Ibid.). In certain cases though, these people might partake in the transgressions of hooliganism.

Football violence can often be differentiated between outburst of spontaneous violence - often as a reaction to a perceived injustice - and carefully planned and organized violence. In the latter case, those at the boundaries of a hooligan group would never participate. By its very nature, the

3_{The reasons for his exceptionality have never become entirely clear to me, although I was told that unlike the other ‘kids’ he} “simply understands” and “doesn’t have a big mouth”.

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13 participation in pre-planned violence requires interaction with those doing the planning, i.e. the core. If you are not in the know about what is being or has been planned, it is impossible to partake in whatever is planned. In some cases of spontaneous violence however, people at the boundaries are swept up in the heat of the moment and do transgress into violent behavior.

Theoretical themes

As said above, Spaaij’s framework will be used in this thesis in order to examine hooliganism at Maccabi Tel Aviv. This framework contains four different theoretical themes (2006: 54).

The first of these themes is ‘the role of societal fault lines in fueling and contouring football hooliganism’ (Ibid.), looking at the major fault lines in a society, how these fault lines differ from country to country and how these fault lines help shape hooliganism in its local context. Spaaij describes how English football hooliganism is centered around class cleavages that are ‘based on accumulated social differences in, among others, type of occupation […], education, […] housing [and] income’ (Ibid.: 55) and the regional ‘center-periphery’ inequality of the distribution of these factors. Dutch football hooliganism on the other hand is not focused around class but around strong local and regional

identities. However, these regional identities are not focused around a center-periphery dynamic of any kind. This is the case in Spain, where regional autonomy and identities have historically developed around a center-periphery dynamic. Hooliganism in Spain differs from England in that it’s not based around class, instead it ‘has become inseparable from the expression of regional and (sub-)nationalist identities and cuts through all social classes’ (Ibid.: 56). These different local fault lines change the local appearance and shape of football hooliganism from one country to another.

The second theoretical theme is ‘the construction of hooligan identities and the attractions of hooligan subculture, i.e. hooliganism as meaningful action’ (Ibid.: 57). Where the first theoretical theme very much looks at local specificity, this theme leads to the distillation of ‘a number of key aspects of football hooliganism as a transnational phenomenon’ (Ibid.: 367). Examples of these aspects include but are not limited to: the excitement and pleasure derived from partaking in hooliganism, reputation management of both the individual hooligan as well as the collective, territorial identifications and - related to these identifications - sovereignty and autonomy.

Spaaij’s third theoretical theme deals with ‘the social organization of football hooliganism’ (Ibid.: 57). Here he aims to compare the degree of organization of different groups of football hooligans. He stresses the fluidity of hooligan formations and how this often contrasts the outsider’s perception of hooligan groups as structured criminal organizations.

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14 The fourth and final theme concerns ‘the interactions and negotiations between hooligans and significant others and the effects of policies targeting football hooliganism’ (Ibid.). This theme shows how the interplay between hooligans and significant non-hooligan others shapes the development of hooliganism in the most local of contexts. Where the first theme deals mostly with variations from one country to another, this theme explains the different phenotypes of hooliganism as a result of the negotiation between a number of relevant actors that can differ from one club to another. This theme is more about the extent of a hooligan phenotype than about its nature.

Thesis roadmap

With the exception of the third theme, I will use each of these theoretical approaches as the basis of a chapter in this thesis. The third theme - the social organization of hooliganism - I have chosen to omit because I didn’t have enough data4_{to warrant a separate chapter. I did however, elaborate on a few}

aspects concerning the social organization of hooliganism above in the ‘Maccabi Fanatics’ paragraph. In the subsequent chapters of this thesis I will elaborate on the theoretical approaches mentioned above. First I will deal with hooliganism as meaningful action. I considered this the best choice as the opening chapter for two reasons. As it sets out, amongst other things, to attest to the attractions of hooliganism it can also serve as a good introduction into football hooliganism and what it entails to those readers unfamiliar with it. The second chapter will then deal with the local fault lines shaping and contouring football hooliganism in Israel. It will examine the cleavages in Israeli society and how they relate to the shaping of football hooliganism at Maccabi Tel Aviv. The third and final chapter will then look at the interaction between the Maccabi Fanatics and significant non-hooligan others and how this interaction negotiates and contests the boundaries of hooliganism at Maccabi Tel Aviv. Finally, in the conclusion, I will summarize the chapters in this thesis and explore the interrelations between them.

4

I attribute this to the fact that a lot of organizational challenges would be tackled as they presented themselves, chaotically and at the last minute. Since I don’t speak Hebrew, a lot of things were lost on me in these situations. Secondly, I never escaped the feeling that the core and de facto leadership of the Maccabi Fanatics purposely shielded parts of the inner organization decision making process from me. I can only speculate on the reasons - or extent - that this happened. Perhaps this was due to the fact that they didn’t want me in on some of the inner group dynamics. After all, these core members where fully aware of my role being primarily that of a researcher.

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15

1. Hooliganism as meaningful action

In this chapter I will examine the construction of hooligan identity and the attraction of hooliganism. The fun and thrill of being a part of a hooligan confrontation - something I experienced firsthand during the events of the prologue - is not a sufficient explanation. Furthermore, as Spaaij notes, violence cannot be seen as simply a means to an end, oftentimes there are more efficient ways to achieve something than through violence. In order to understand what hooligans hope to achieve, it is necessary to examine the moral economy and aesthetic values of football hooliganism (Spaaij 2006: 37).

The ethnographic parts of this chapter occurred on one very eventful ‘away day’. Marv plays a central role in these events, which is why his presence will be a recurrent theme within this chapter. The ethnographic narrative is presented here in the chronological order it occurred.

1.1 Othering

Othering and group cohesion are in many ways two sides of the same coin, as the same can only exist vis-à-vis the different (Jenkins 2014). The interrelations between the two can be found in Spaaij as well. He notes that ‘strong emotional attachment to the collective is a central feature of their hooligan identity, which is produced and reproduced through the process of othering’ (Spaaij 2006: 38). Othering is the process by which significant others are socially created, which in turn says something about the self. Jenkins gives the other a central role in identity formation, something that is exceptionally well applicable to football hooliganism. This doesn’t just mean othering of those football supporters that happen to be supporting a different team. There is a strong us-and-them dynamic going on between hooligans and non-hooligans that support the same team as well. For instance, a hooligan distinguishes himself from non-hooligans by not buying official club merchandise, instead opting for either plain street clothes5_{or group merchandise sold by the group itself. There are a multitude of these differentiators to}

be found by which hooligans distinguish themselves from non-hooligans and show their allegiance - at least to other hooligans - to the hooligan group.

5_{These have the added benefit of not standing out too much, enabling you to move towards or away from a designated enemy} more easily without attracting attention.

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16 1.2 Membership privileges

Belonging to the collective provides its members with all kinds of privileges. Some of these are very simple and straightforward in nature, for instance Maccabi Fanatics members don’t have to worry about obtaining a ticket for that one important away match coming up. Even though the game will

undoubtedly sell out and many fans will be left disappointed, those belonging to Maccabi Fanatics have nothing to fear: someone from the group will use his contacts at the club to arrange envelopes full of tickets for all those deemed important. Also, the more important you are in the group, the sooner you will be able to get your hands on (limited edition) merchandise. Other advantages of inner circle membership are less material and more about status and respect.

I pull up across the street from Eran’s place.

“Could you give him a call?” I ask Tal, who is sitting next to me.

“Sure thing.” Tal gets on the phone. He talks for a bit, then hangs up the phone.

“They’re coming, but it will take a few minutes. I smoke a cigarette okay?” Tal gets out of the car and lights his cigarette. I get out my pack of smokes and join him. After a few minutes Eran and Uriel, a good friend of Eran whom I have seen on a number of occasions but never really spoke to on account of his poor English, come out of the apartment building Eran lives in. Uriel is joking around with Eran in Hebrew, Tal smiles at whatever it is Uriel is saying. I throw away my cigarette and get in the car. Uriel pushes Tal away, quickly opens the passenger seat door and claims the seat next to me.

“Ya ben zona!” Tal calls out loudly while punching Uriel in the shoulder. “Ben sharmuta! Ya zain!” Uriel replies laughing. It’s the usual swearing. Tal and Eran get in the backseats of the car.

“We go pick up Marv now.” Eran tells me.

“Marv? But he has a ban right? Why on earth is he coming?”

“We had a fight last time with Maccabi Haifa, before you were here.” “But…” I’m a bit puzzled, “we play Hapoel Haifa today right?”

“Yeah, same stadium though. Marv thinks Maccabi Haifa might try something, take revenge for the fight they lost, so he wants to come.”

“Will they try something?” I ask while pulling away and merging into traffic. “Not sure, but I doubt it. It’s not their game. You know the way to Marv’s house?” “Yeah.”

15 minutes later we pull up to the small alley where the entrance of Marv’s mothers place is. “Use the horn.” Eran tells me.

After honking the horn, almost immediately Marv comes out of the building. He angrily shouts something at his mother who doesn’t seem all that glad he is leaving with us. While Marv is walking towards the car, Uriel opens the door and gets out. He moves to the back and Marv gets in next to me.

“Hugo! My friend! Good? Yes?”

“Ken, tov.” I reply signaling I’m good. “You?”

“Yes! Yes! I very good!” Marv looks me in the eyes impatiently. “Yallah, ja zain!” I laugh and start the drive towards Haifa, it should take us little over an hour.

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17 During the time that I had rented a car everyone would always vie for the passenger seat, like Uriel and Tal did here. This would always happen in a playful way, jokingly trying to sneak in before someone else could or racing someone to the car. At first I assumed that this was because I rented a rather small car, that sitting in the back was just less comfortable. But whenever Marv was present there was no question who would sit in the front. People getting out of the car and giving up the passenger seat to him was a common occurrence. It was a privilege given to him due to the respect his status in the group commanded.

1.3 Professional hooligan

Marv uses the group as social security safety net. Ever unable to keep a job, having been to prison a number of times despite being in his early twenties, living then with his girlfriend, then at his mother’s house, then nowhere at all, never having any money etc. etc., he is able to overcome all of these problems because he is held in high regard in the group. His extreme talent for hooliganism places him at the very heart of the group despite not having any organizational role.

During my research I spent quite some time with Marv. Because he was unemployed - most of the time at least, he got a job halfway through my time in Israel but got fired a week later - he had a lot of time to kill. The same applied to me, after all not every day is match day, which resulted in us meeting up regularly. Often we would go to the bar where Eran works and sit on the terrace there. Our backs facing the wall, overseeing the entire terrace, these moments always seemed to me as if we were holding court. We would sit, drink and eat something, smoke a lot of cigarettes and every once in a while some Maccabi fan who had heard we were there would come by. They would shake our hands, talk for a bit, buy us coffee or beer (depending on the time of day) and then leave after half an hour or so. Eran would occasionally join us during his breaks and sometimes the owner of the bar would as well. When there was no one there but us, we would have these very primitive conversations. This was due to Marv’s horrible English language skills. After a while Marv would grow frustrated, kill the conversation, grab his phone to call someone and then yell at them in Hebrew. This could go on for hours on end. At the end of the afternoon people would often join us for longer periods of time. Among those regularly present after they would finish work were Avi, Tal, Gal and Eran. Marv would never have any money and never really paid for anything, so the others did this. Sometimes Eran would present Marv with a

ridiculously low bill, clearly missing the bulk of what he had consumed. Cigarettes he would take from others as well, rather forcefully at times. Usually at the end of the evening, when everyone would go their separate ways, someone would ‘borrow’ – a euphemism, I’ve never seen anyone getting their

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18 money back - Marv 20 or 40 shekel, about 5 to 10 euros. From me he would never accept any money, although he gladly took any coffee, beer, food or cigarettes I offered him. The cigarettes he would take if I didn’t offer them as well.

Later on, when I had rented a car, we would drive all over the place. He would show me around, after about 3 days I could find his mother’s house in Ramat Gan, where I often picked him up and dropped him off, without using satellite navigation. The house was in a deplorable state, let alone the neighborhood. It surprised me no one joked about this with Marv, as they would with others. On poker nights, organized once or twice a week, I would pick Marv up and we would drive to pick up whomever we would give a lift. Along the way we would stop to get some drinks and snacks, usually to be paid for by whoever it was we gave a lift that night. There would normally be about 6 to 8 people there, on a busy night 10. Everybody paid 100 shekels – slightly less than 25 euros - per round, winner takes all. Marv would usually have scrapped together the first buy in, but the second round he would borrow the money from whoever won the first round. Of course, whenever Marv borrowed any money, the creditor did so knowing he would not be getting his money back. Even those times when Marv won he would not be asked to pay back the money. At the end of the night, usually I would drop Marv off at his mother’s place, or at his girlfriend’s house. From time to time he would not be welcome at either of these places because he was in some sort of fight with them. He would then go with someone present at the poker game and sleep there.

Clearly for Marv group membership was vital. Being a core member of the Maccabi hooligans enabled him to overcome all kinds of practical personal problems. The reason Marv was treated with such regard will become clear when we will take a closer look at one of the central concerns for any hooligan group: violence. Perhaps even more important than the violence itself is the anticipation of future violence. Despite his stadium ban Marv was present on the day of the away game against Hapoel Haifa because he expected violence. Others were not so sure.

“Smolla smolla, the cars the Maccabi. You look?” Marv points left to a field with some parked cars in it. Next to them are a number of familiar faces.

“Yeah, I see them.”

I drive onto the field and park the car at the end of the row. Marv, Tal, Eran, Uriel and me get out of the car and say the usual hellos to everyone. I look around me and take in the surroundings. There isn’t much to see. We are in a field next to a large main road on the outskirts of town. There are some trees next to the field and the road, but other than that there is not much to this place. Behind us, in the distance, is the skyline of Haifa.

After all the cars have arrived the group starts moving. We begin a long walk towards the stadium. I’m walking next to Avi.

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19 “So, you guys really expecting trouble today?” I ask him.

“No not really.”

“Then why park all the way over here?” “Better to be careful.”

“Long walk though.”

“Yes, well, you see we carry all that with us,” Eran gestures at the banners and drums being carried by some of the people around us, “so we can’t take any risks, can’t allow them to steal that. Probably they will do nothing, but you can never be sure, they might try if we are stupid.” “I get it.”

“Also now we are too strong, there is too many of us. And the good people to. This way we know they won’t try anything, and if they do, they regret it.”

“I get all that, still think it’s a long walk though.” Avi laughs. “Smoke?”

“Sure.” I take one of Avi’s cigarettes.

When we arrive at the stadium the usual procedures start. All the banners are unrolled and laid out on the floor for the security to check. I notice a small group of people is peeling of, walking away. Amongst them is Gal. I run after them.

“Where are you guys going?” I ask when I catch up with them.

“Just to drink some beers, have some food maybe. They can handle that stuff on their own.” “Good, I’ll join you. Is that okay?”

“Yes of course, always welcome.”

We walk for about 5 minutes and arrive at a large shopping mall. A large group of Maccabi supporters is standing in front of one of its entrances. I doesn’t take long to see why they have chosen this particular spot: everything a football fan wants just before the match can be found here. Right next to the entrance of the shopping mall is a shawarma and falafel place, and right next to that a liquor store. It takes about 5 seconds before someone throws me a half liter can of beer.

“Toda!” I open the can and mingle.

After a while I notice I haven’t seen Marv for a while. Curious where he is I walk over to Avi. “Avi, where is Marv? I don’t see him anywhere. I’d like to buy him a beer.”

“You won’t see him here my friend, he has to be careful. If police or stewards or anyone like that see him he will probably be arrested. Remember he is not allowed to be here.”

“Then, where is he now?”

“I don’t know, around somewhere. Most of our strong are here so he will be near us probably, but just being careful you know. Staying out of the groups, a bit more out of sight.”

1.4 Violence and its limitations

The most powerful symbol differentiating the hooligan Self from non-hooligan Others is the use of violence. The proven willingness to put yourself on the line for the club and the group is by far the most important distinction between hooligans and non-hooligans. This is of course also the reason I was able to do this research in the first place. Due to the circumstances described in the prologue I had proven my worth to the group. It was that violent incident that legitimized my presence. I never ran away. I was “good people”. It is like this for many core members, almost all of them have legitimized their status in the group through violence.

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20 The violence itself is directed at significant others; hooligans of opposing teams. The definition of who exactly is deemed to be a hooligan can change from situation to situation, but the opponent needs to be defined as a hooligan in any specific context before a confrontation can commence. Because honor can only be won against equals, it is not deemed honorable to fight non-hooligan supporters (Spaaij 2006: 42). This means there needs to be a legitimization for perpetrating serious violence against a person or group, you cannot just attack them, there needs to be proof of some sort that the other is a hooligan as well. Proof may sound rather serious and hard to come by, but keep in mind that in most hooligan confrontations both parties are actively seeking conflict and make their intent unmistakably clear. Simple yelling and taunting between two groups can in those cases be enough to legitimize violence.

In many hooligan cultures the police are also considered a legitimate target, especially when they are in the process of separating different hooligan formations (Ibid.). This is most definitely not the case in Israel, or at least not in the case of Maccabi Tel Aviv. The police are not to be touched. At one point I witnessed two police officers keeping about a 100 hooligans from engaging each other until their back up arrived after a few minutes. The hooligan groups would run at each other at different locations, but each time one of the two police officer ran in between them and the hooligans would immediately scatter. I later asked Eran what that was about, expressing to him I was sure that in many other countries the hooligans would have engaged that police officer. He explained to me that it was ‘special police’ who kept order at football games. Riot police in Israel were, according to Eran, actually not part of the police but of the military. They would also patrol the borders with the Gaza strip for instance. This meant two things. First of all, due to their patriotism and their service to the state of Israel they are deemed less appropriate of an opponent by the right wing Maccabi hooligans. Secondly, it means they are allowed to scale up violence quickly. Retaliation for attacking a police officer in Israel is swift and harsh. As Eran explained it, attacking a police officer is a good way of making sure you get an entire can of teargas sprayed in your face while being arrested, followed by a quick one-week trial and conviction to a significant prison sentence6_.

Giulianotti and Armstrong (2002) point out that killing or afflicting serious injury upon

opponents is not a hooligan objective. From what I have seen and witnessed I agree with this statement. In the fights I have witnessed weapons are used - the use of weapons differentiates from culture to culture (Giulianotti and Armstrong 2002; Spaaij 2006: 43) - but these weapons take the form of sticks, belts, etc. I haven’t seen any knives or other weapons that can seriously injure or kill someone. Even

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21 someone like Marv, who is considered an especially dangerous hooligan, from what I have seen doesn’t try to hit someone’s head if he is using a lead pipe or a bat as a weapon. There was one incident during my time in Israel that did involve serious injury. It occurred around the Beitar Jerusalem-Hapoel Tel Aviv game during a fight between hooligans of these two teams. A Beitar hooligan had hit a Hapoel fan on the head with a hammer, using the cat’s paw and not the flat end of the hammer. This resulted in the hammer remaining stuck in the victim’s head. Pictures of the victim were circulating through the different Israeli hooligan groups, which is how I came to see them. It was not a pretty sight. Everyone expressed their shock and/or disgust at this. It was made clear Beitar’s La Familia hooligan group had crossed a line. Because of this reaction it is safe to say this incident, despite of the serious injury, argues for the Giulianotti and Armstrong claim that causing serious injury and let alone killing someone is not intended. After all, if the most seasoned hooligans amongst the Maccabi Fanatics claim La Familia “have lost it now” or “are fucking crazy” it shows that an unwritten rule has been broken. Such an action is outside the realm of ‘normal’ Israeli football hooliganism.

1.5 Territorial integrity

Closely related to hooligan violence is territory. The entire hooligan ‘game’ revolves around it. Hooligan groups have a great deal of autonomy over territory that is deemed theirs. Stadium regulations for instance are often not enforced in the section a hooligan groups sits in. This can be either because a group is given certain privileges, because enforcing rules is not possible due to the group’s strength and evasion strategies or a combination of the two. I will go into this further in chapter 4, for now suffice it to say that territorial integrity is the source of a hooligan group’s power and pride. Because of this the hooligan ‘game’ revolves around invading the other’s space and defending one’s own.

It’s around the 75th_{minute of the game and Maccabi is 1-0 down. To everyone’s surprise, the}

lowly Hapoel Haifa is completely outplaying and outworking Maccabi Tel Aviv. The singing and supporting continues, as it always does, but the atmosphere on the stands is dampened quite a bit by the poor display on the pitch. The stadium is quite large, too large for this game. Maccabi Haifa and Hapoel Haifa both play their home games here, but since Hapoel is so much smaller of a club the stadium is very empty today. There are two rings in this stadium, we are on the second ring on the long side opposite the benches, the short sides being the ones behind the goals. The rest of the second ring is completely empty. Below us the first ring is only half filled. Straight below us, on the same ‘long side’, are the non-fanatical Maccabi fans. I would estimate that, even though we are in Haifa, there is just as many Maccabi Tel Aviv supporters in the stadium as there are Hapoel Haifa supporters. The fanatical section of Hapoel Haifa supporters is behind the goal on our right. They, of course, are jubilant that they are winning. They’re singing, cheering on their club while every once in while taunting us.