I am usually pretty comfortable speaking publicly, but I won’t lie… I’m feeling pretty nervous about doing this… addressing what is quite possibly the MOST polarizing, MOST incendiary topic of them all; the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. Please be gracious with me.
Why me? — I married an Israeli.
2002… exactly one year after 9-11. The events of 9-11 and the war on terror that followed brought me passionately into the world of geopolitics and social justice. I became increasingly interested in the Middle East and in Israel-Palestine. My daily reading routine was commondreams.org, The Guardian; Democracy Now....
I went to Thailand. I had formed my world view, but I was going out into the world to learn more; see more; be more. I was looking for love — for someone different; someone who would shake me up; teach me things; challenge me.
My third day in Thailand, I met Rinat, the petite Israeli beauty; who at 18 became a Gulf War veteran during her compulsory service in the Israeli Defense Force.
The first day took the normal path of courtship; a song, a dance, a drink, a walk on the beach, a massage… that was about it. After less than 24 hours we parted for different Thai islands, exchanged emails, and kissed each other goodbye… Soon after our encounter, she returned to her life in Israel and I started my new life in Thailand. We chatted via MSN and emailed daily.
Here’s me… progressive, left leaning, west-coast-hippie-pacifist. I wrote to her:
“First, let’s both agree that we may not see issues the same way… and let’s agree that we have two completely different perspectives on the situation; me, being an outsider with no experience, only knowledge I gather through — and you, having grown up with the conflict and having lived in terror (I almost hate using that word because of its over-use in the past year). Now let me also say that I LOVE talking about these things with you because you teach me so much — and it lets me know you better as you speak of your personal experience. If I say anything that drives you to anger… well, I hope that doesn’t happen…”
Well, it happened… quite a few times… enough to build a formidably strong foundation for our relationship; not based on common beliefs, but based on mutual respect for our differences and the effort and interest we showed in seeking to understand those differences:
So, Rinat… the IDF levelled an apartment in Nablus, home to 10 families and 150 people in it yesterday… tell me about that?
What about the massacre at Sabra & Shatilla?
Apartheid wall. Security fence. Apartheid wall. Security fence. It should be built on the Green Line! It’s land grab!
Did you hear about Rachel Corrie??
and so it went on...
And in response I received replies, often thousands of words long, explaining her view of the conflict, her interpretation of history, her personal story — and with every email, we fell more deeply in love. I listened, and learned what it was like to live in fear during the height of the Second Intifada: To always be avoiding large crowds; deciding which bus, cafe or square might be a less-likely target of a suicide bomber; the horrible anxiety of waiting in line; the trauma caused by the setting-off of benign fireworks… and what it is like to fear for the very survival and existence of your country, and your people.
… and before we were even married, I got a taste of these things first-hand; in 2005, the night of Rinat’s stagette there was a bombing at a nightclub in Tel Aviv just a few blocks of where we were partying. Years later in November 2012 I went to my in-law’s wedding in Ashdod with tensions extremely high as the numbers of rockets fired from Gaza reached unprecedented numbers. The next day Israel commenced their relentless bombardment of Gaza and the assassination of Ahmed Jabari. Our next two weeks were spent taking cover; in the apartment stairwell; during a patio brunch in Shenkin; on the highway as every car frantically pulls over and passengers run to and fro to find shelter. We witnessed rockets being intercepted overhead, and felt the frenzy of cell phones ringing as loved ones checked in on each other.
During the most recent conflict, things became pretty tense in our house. Reading the posts on Facebook can stir the strongest human emotions. I know this was particularly difficult for Rinat, as she viewed the very worst of anti-Israel rhetoric from people she has considered to be “friends”. And she suffered the numbing virtual silence and rejection of Facebook, procuring just a handful of likes — almost always by Israelis — on her posts in support of Israel. And what of me? Considering the safety of my family in Israel and my upset with Israel’s heavy-handed use of violence is hard enough… adding having to determine whether to ‘like’ my wife’s posts on the situation was almost too much. I couldn’t do it — even when much of me agreed with some of her posts. I couldn’t align myself so strongly. I won’t take sides as long as both perpetuate violence. // Rinat decided that she would attend one of the pro-Israel rallies. This seemed out of character — she had never had this desire during the previous Gaza conflict or the war in south Lebanon — but for whatever reason, perhaps partly due to her alienation on Facebook (and at home), and what she perceived to be a pro-Palestinian bias around her, she decided to attend the rally. When she told me, we made eye contact and in a split second, had a silent conversation… my look said, “you know I can’t go with you” and she replied “I know, but I hope you’ll respect me and my decision to go”... and then we continued aloud with her saying, “so, you’ll stay with Noa?” — very challenging indeed. I told her that she should expect to hear terrible things from both camps and urged her not to get sucked into the vortex of anger. I encouraged her to be an instrument of peace. She nodded knowingly.
I have not given up on my pacifist principles nor my commitment to aiding the oppressed. I have plenty of condemnation for the actions and policies of the state of Israel... but what I once thought was a cut-and-dried matter, will now only illicit the simple response of “it’s complicated”... and if anyone really wants to take the next step in the conversation, I will quickly take a centrist (or Devil’s Advocate) position and debate all comers; in my online community of football fans, many with conservative leanings, I more often speak up for the Palestinian cause. In my liberal progressive communities, I’m more often trying to invite staunch opponents of Israel to resist dehumanizing Israelis by diminishing their well-founded fears and security concerns as being an evil desire to oppress and control. Certainly their actions are not justified; but they are explainable. Without understanding, there can be no peace.
What we need is compassion. Compassion for the inherent worth and dignity of every victim of terror, every sufferer of oppression, and even every aggressor, every martyr, every zealot, every bullheaded politician, every terrorist (state sanctioned or rogue).
People directly affected by the conflict will no doubt align themselves with one camp; this is understandable and tolerable. But as outsiders, viewing the situation with our ideals and principles, opining from afar, never having donned a gas mask, seen a rocket intercepted overhead, done military service at a check-point, lost a loved one… we’d be best to do more seeking of perspective, and directing our efforts to being the bridge for peace to occur. Neither side needs any more combatants… once anger fuels our activism we are only throwing that fuel on the fire. Once we so firmly align ourselves with a side, the dehumanization begins. Counting women, children, civilians, soldiers, combatants… all of the data carefully manipulated to show ‘the truth’ — from one side.
When someone says “1000 rockets have been launched at Sderot,” the response lacking compassion jumps to comparing atrocities; to counting dead; it plays the best rebuttal in defense, saying, “those rockets have never even killed anyone!” The compassionate response reflects on what it must be like to be a family in Sderot; a parent at work, with a child in school, as the sirens go off, day after day.
To be a true peacemaker, we must force ourselves to see all sides; to empathize, to sympathize; to understand; and to be able to articulate the positions of both sides to both sides, without inciting anger, suspicion, mistrust or hatred. Aligning oneself in the center does not mean being apathetic or cowardly. It can be strongly activist and truly committed to peace — having the courage to speak up for either side, giving reasoned, well-articulated responses to those at the extremes. Where was this group during the rallies? Who was standing in the centre of the road, inviting people from either camp to join them in dialogue, peacemaking and understanding. This is where ‘the inherent worth and dignity of every person’, and ‘the interconnected web’ meet. The bridge to peace starts in the space-between, and it is where the building must begin.
A couple days after the Israel rally we were at Nathan Phillips Square, enjoying a free concert… Noa befriended a boy with her dancing (just like her parents!), and Rinat and the mom ended up in deep conversation. She was a Palestinian. They shared their common dreams for their children, and their disdain for the Israeli and Palestinian leadership. They hugged each other warmly, teared up a little, and wished each other peace and safety for their families. In that moment, their connection did a little to increase the sum total of love and justice in the world...
— and so may we all.