"To suffer for peace is much better than to suffer for war."
~Hussein Ibrahim Issa, founder of the Hope Flowers School
What does a statement like this convey? Optimism for the future? An ideology to excuse current realities? Does it empower, assuage, both?
With the Kivunim students having departed Monday for Spain and Turkey, I stayed behind in Jerusalem preparing materials and events for their return, but with significantly more free time. Eager for an experience that I wouldn't regret pursuing without the students I arrived at Encounter. This organization arranges for American Jewish leadership, delegates, etc. to visit the West Bank and witness for themselves the current situation. Encounter organizes panels and meetings with representatives from a variety of groups, so that participants can observe the diverse opinions held by residents. Encounter doesn't have a political opinion, and doesn't agree or disagree with the speakers, but finds it crucial that these people be heard. With Kivunim abroad, I decided to continue my studies of the Conflict, boarding a bus with other young American Jewish leaders on Thursday morning for two days and one night in Bethlehem.
Pictures of Encounter trip to Bethlehem
Our first visit was to the Hope Flowers School in Al Khader. Ghada, the director of the school, provided us with a glimpse into the history of the institution's establishment, topics of study, and the daily lives of the students. Ghada's father, Hussein Ibrahim Issa, founded the school to teach values of tolerance and co-existence. This was met with opposition, and Hussein was even injured by fanatics from his community. Nevertheless the school remains very active. Teachers are trained to rely on skills of compassion and listening, and they attend Palestinian-Israeli workshops. Additionally, there is a program to respond to the trauma that students live through under the occupation, witnessing violent acts and military intervention. The school is 26 years old.
Funding for and tuition for the school is an issue. There is 43% unemployment in Bethlehem and no funds are supplied by the Palestinian Authority. Nevertheless, students are still accepted. Because the school is located in Area C of the West Bank, they school had to apply for a school license from the Palestinian Department of Education, while applying for a building license from Israel. This was a lengthy process to say the least. Since the Hope Flowers School a licensed educational institution, the school may add to but not change the curriculum they're provided by the PA.
After the introduction, we drew images of home with members of the 5th grade class. I couldn't help but notice how much time one of the students spent coloring in the Palestinian flag on his front lawn. I wondered what that says about this young boy, his family, his neighborhood, and his sense of nationalistic identity.
Leaving the Hope Flowers School, we boarded a bus for a tour of Bet Jalah by Iyad, a local environmentalist who works for Friends of the Earth, an organization that breaks through political boundaries to tackle global environmental issues. His perspective was very interesting because he was speaking both as a Palestinian (Christian) and as an environmentalist. So, for example, he discussed the sense of imprisonment felt by residents, as well as problems of uprooted trees for fence building. With regards to the fence, he showed us where it ends on a hill. Therefore, while other security measures exist, he stated that in reality, it's very easy to get to Israel proper.
We ended the tour at the checkpoint where Bethlehem residents enter Israel. The mechanism is similar to airport security, but the limited access makes it incredibly difficult to get through in a timely manner to work. He used a term that was new to me, "Gaza-fication" in reference to the current situation in Bethlehem. We walked around the perimeter of the wall, observing a site where a house was surrounded on three sides by the wall, as well as the artwork of JR, who photographed Israelis and Palestinians practicing the same professions, and pasted their caricatures on the wall.
TED Prize Winner JR & INSIDE OUT from TED Prize on Vimeo.
We broke for lunch and heard an interesting Dvar Torah about this coming Parashah, Tetzaveh, and the sibling rivalry between Moses and Aaron. This is the only Torah Portion since the introduction of Moses where his name is not mentioned. The Rabbi who delivered the commentary charged us to act like Moses and the prophets, opening ourselves up to new worlds and ideas, as well as like Aaron the "technician" who makes these ideas realities, but to cast away the impulse to engage in sibling rivalry.
What followed was a discussion with a panel of three Palestinians residents. Siham works for the Bereaved Family Forum, as part of the Parents Circle- Family Forum, dealing with bereaved Palestinians and Israelis. Rula works in East Jerusalem with JustVision, an organization dedicated to providing more media on Israelis and Palestinians and their nonviolent efforts to end the occupation. Salah works for the Lajee Center, providing social, educational, cultural and developmental opportunities to refugee youth. Siham, Rula, and Salah all shared their stories, providing a rare glimpse into the difficult lives of Palestinians. According to Siham, her mother was viewed by Israel as a terrorist for her involvement with Fatah, even though she never held a gun. Siham watched the IDF mutilate her son, and arrest all of her children. She dreams of a safer life for herself and her children. Rula discussed the need to build bridges because of political problems. She knows Fatah is corrupt and Hamas is extremist, but what choice does she have?
Salah shared stories about his childhood in Aida Refugee Camp, getting arrested on multiple occasions, and participating in nonviolent resistance. From his vantage point, the only Israel he knows is one of weapons and walls, because he can't access Israel. It's easier for him to go to Europe than Jerusalem.
A variety of counseling and debriefing models were employed in the program. Among these were moments of song and small group discussions. In the first of these meetings, I contemplated the image of the Palestinian child drawing the flag, an overwhelming sense of hopelessness, and the degree of responsibility I am taking with regards to the injustices encountered here, as a human being, but more importantly as a Jew. Our group as a whole wrestled with sensitivities toward suffering, the dehumanizing nature of the wall, and the pressure to have an opinion about the issue as Jews. But how can we make sense of these issues, when we don't live here?
Suddenly language confuses, shaping narratives of terrorism on one side and resistance on the other, but no action is ever entirely one or the other or both.
With these feelings brewing, an informal program with our home hospitality families helped to calm the atmosphere. We played icebreakers, rock-paper-scissors, and ended with a game where people approach the center of a circle if they identify with a statement. It was very powerful to watch the faces of people as they stepped forward in affirmation of: "I have to apply for a permit to visit someone I love," or "I know someone who was injured or killed in an attack." With such tension, there needs to be an opportunity to remind ourselves that we share the unique privilege of humanity.
With that, we went to dinner in a tent restaurant in Bethlehem, and concluded the formal evening with dancing...
At dinner I met my home hospitality family, and followed them home to stay at the hostel they run, House of Peace, not far from the Church of the Nativity. The family was delightful and very generous, and their story is extremely unique. Keeping in mind that today Christian Arabs make up about 1% of the West Bank population, the father was brought up Greek Orthodox, learned English and German in a Lutheran elementary school, and learned Hebrew from work in Israel before the wall was built. The mother was brought up Roman Catholic. The two had a daughter with a physical disability, causing her to limp. When a miracle happened, and she lost the limp, the parents became Born Again Baptists. As far as I know, Baptist Palestinians are extremely rare. This daughter now lives in Jordan, and is apparently the second woman in the county with an M.A. in divinity. The family traces their lineage back to 1780 in Bethlehem, and then to Syria. They were very open to our questions, have worship services in their basement often, and are ready for some palpable change in the area. They also have at least two sons who also answered questions, study at a Bible school, and play instruments as hobbies.
As I prepared to doze off from a long and arduous day, I thought about how Israel offers permits to Christian Palestinians to enter Israel on Christmas and Easter (not to Muslims on any occasion). I thought about a concept known as Normalization, where Palestinians won't accept any motion by Israel because it would suggest they recognize and accept the occupation. I thought about how Israel has effectively established a Palestinian state, before the rhetoric began circulating in the government, by isolating populations. And I thought about how, at present, it looks like Israelis will only listen to and submit to the pressure of Americans and American Jews with regard to this conflict. Now that's responsibility.
Friday morning we hosted a presentation by Hamed, a U.N. Human Rights Officer, working for the Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, in Hebron. He discussed the main issues facing the West Bank: shrinking space, house demolitions, restricted access to Area C and East Jerusalem, and the fragmentation of the West Bank. He reviewed the definitions of the three types of allocated land in the West Bank:
Area A- Palestinian administrative and security control
Area B- Palestinian administrative control, Israeli security (suburbs of main cities)
Area C- Israeli civili and administrative control
The current state is the result of being stuck in what was supposed to be a 5 year transitional process. Palestinians living in Area C need permission from the IDF to build, and they rarely get it. About 150,000 Palestinians live in Area C spots around the West Bank.
The Jewish status in the West Bank is as follows, but always fluctuating: 149 settlements, 100 outposts, 500,000 people, compared to about 3 million Arabs.
Hamed discussed settler "price tag" violence, where Palestinian property is destroyed in Area C, and settlers declare the structures illegal.
Once he got through the facts on the ground, he provided his personal views. He doesn't perceive of any immediate solution based on the current status of Area C and Jewish settlers. Hamas has been wiped out of the West Bank, and both Fatah and the PLO recognize Israel. Similar to Rula, he recognized Fatah's corruption and Hamas' extremist views, but that leaves people between a rock and a hard place. He is looking for a peaceful uprising against his leadership, similar to Egypt. Finally, he has no solution whatsoever on the status of Jerusalem.
Filled with facts and numbers, we boarded a bus to visit a Palestinian village called Walaje, that has made news because Israel is building a wall to completely encircle it. We met with Sheerin, a resident, former council member, and U.N. worker in Darfur. She showed us her house and where the wall will cut off the view of the mountains she grew up with.
Her house will be surrounded on three sides by a wall that had not begun being built until last April. Nextdoor, Har Gilo, an Israeli settlement, was built in '79, and continues to expand. Al Walaje is not in Bethlehem, not in Jerusalem and not on Israeli maps. If homes are not enclosed by the wall, they're surrounded by electric fences.
Sheerin showed us a valley where people living in the West Bank can basically descend and end up at the Malha Mall and Teddy Stadium. She showed us a house that lies too far from the rest of the village, and will soon have a fence surrounding it. The mother is suffering tremendous psychological effects from the trauma of this process and is rumored to be suicidal.
Essentially, Palestinians living here will have to go through two checkpoints just to enter Bethlehem. This and other details impact the social and family structure of society. 75% of the community is under the age of 30. As Sheerin says, who would stay in such a cage? Within one generation, no one will be left. According to Sheerin, this is the purpose of the wall: to remove this obstruction separating Jerusalem from the enormous Israel Gush Etzion bloc of the West Bank. Currently Walaje is appealing the route of the wall with the Israeli Supreme Court. The village can no longer appeal the building of the wall, but with their appeal of the route, they have halted construction for now.
Sheerin provided some more general opinions about the conflict following her tour. On the topic of suicide bombings, she said such events were also met with shock by Palestinians. They were planned by Fatah and Hamas, and were not an organized response by everyday Palestinians. However, while this was shocking behavior, with the occupation and Israeli response to the Intifada, specifically between 2000-2004, there's no wonder that the trauma this caused left people lining up to kill themselves. Furthermore, there is a common practice that whenever Israel enters negotiations, violence escalates. This happens because if Israel is talking with Fatah, and Hamas disapproves of Fatah, they'll attack a shared enemy, Israel, in order to prevent negotiations from continuing and to embarrass Fatah. When Hamas took power in Gaza and a ceasefire was made with Israel, other terrorist groups sought to embarrass Hamas by initiating violence of their own. These are two perspectives I had never heard before.
Sheerin concluded her tour with us by sharing her anticipation of another Intifada and that even though she is a devout Muslim, she recognizes the need for a secular democratic leadership as part of a one-state solution.
The trauma of rocket fire and suicide bombings and the trauma of occupation are hard to discern from opposite sides of the wall. They're also irrelevant in a conversation of comparisons.
We concluded the trip by walking through Checkpoint 300, the "airplane security" style entrance for Palestinians and tourists into Israel from Bethlehem. Once in Jerusalem municipality, the sun was shining, the roads were clean, but the feelings were heavy.
Update Sunday February 13th:
We debriefed, for our final meeting, two days after the trip. I had time to digest my experiences, review my thoughts, and watch live as an Egyptian autocracy crumbled, transforming the Arab world forever. The people we had met in Bethlehem spoke optimistically about the revolution in Egypt, hoping such a movement of change would reach them too.
So what do I think of all of this? The program provides for a variety of counseling exercises, allowing for us to release and unload after our traumatic encounters and alleviate our anxieties of struggle. Yet, how does one day compare to years and families and futures under these conditions?
This trip in many ways is part of the same perspective I've been exposed to this year. And yet, I've not had such direct exposure to values and opinions, without any filtering, without any agenda. The speakers I met did not agree with each other and did not provide a solution; they provided a series of narratives.
My analysis and forced me to grapple with the dichotomies physically present in the circles of existence separated by this wall. With every concrete panel, the Israeli government is cutting away from a future Palestinian state. It is isolating communities, families, and eliminating feelings of safety among Palestinian residents. Ironically though, at the same time, the Israeli government is establishing a Palestinian state, by isolating a population, and even preventing its own inhabitants from access. Israeli citizens are denied access to Area A and Area B, and, aside from security control in Area B, which the IDF overseas, these sites are at the autonomous disposal of the PA. At the Hope Flower's school, I focused on a fifth grader, who spent most of his "draw home" project coloring in the Palestinian Flag that sat on his front lawn. I wondered how strong his sense of nationalistic identity was, and whether he was aware that practically nobody sees this flag except for other Palestinians. Of course, though, national solidarity is a concept I am very familiar with, especially after 9/11. It's a source of comfort to know other's agree with you and feel the same way.
I tried to envision an inverse encounter. If the Palestinians received permits to enter Israel, what would their Encounter trip look like? Think about the diverse communities that exist in Israel. Is the Chief Rabbinate aware of its involvement in the injustices occurring miles away from the center of the Orthodox Jewish universe? Are those on the left conscious of the economic challenges facing people who line up at 3am at a checkpoint to get to work by 7, just twenty minutes away? I'm aware of the challenge in representing perspectives in a select number of individuals. Likewise, in Encounter's case, two days of engaging with the community cannot and does not reflect the pulse of the population, but what it does well is deconstruct one stereotype after another, and initiate conversations that you otherwise would not have.
The sensitivities to suffering pushed many on the program to confront their religious beliefs. How can a Jewish State allow this suffering? How does God play into this reality of conflict in a "promised land"? Certainly, the passionate feelings and conflicted views that I and others feel are a product of the deep ties to Israel that have been transmitted through schooling. Ironically, though, this causes me to feel an even greater sense of responsibility than I probably should. After all, I've had little to no effect on the politics of this country. But as a Jew, suddenly there's an endless history to this place.
Throughout the trip I provided my own responses to the information I received. After all, I live in the right wing capital of the Jewish world. I've also been exposed to a fair amount of Israel advocacy. I was aware of the uneven distribution of facts in Hamed's speech. I carried with me the circumstances of the last Intifada, and threats of instant violence. But these observations didn't remove any legitimacy from the views of the speakers.
I think that my knowledge of Jewish history, and the oppression I've studied will not deter from my recognition of the need for a Jewish state. What this program has done though is motivate me to vocalize a rift in the language of the Conflict. So often in America, opinions reflect either pro-Israeli views or anti-Israeli views. I don't feel that there is a strong enough voice that is pro-Israeli and pro-Palestinian.
On my way back from the debrief session, I passed Gilad Shalit's father on the street, and was reminded again of the one-sided narrative here. How can Israeli's know what's going on just over the wall? They're either there as settlers, defending a home, whether out of ideological, practical, or religious motivations, or they're in the West Bank as soldiers, patriotically charged to defend their Jewish state from victimization, at the risk of victimizing others. Who else would Israelis listen to but American Jews? Who else has the power to shift perspectives? Certainly this takes a tremendous amount of dedication by a very different Jewish society than that existing in Israel, and one with its own problems. It also takes an attentive eye toward events not immediately effecting one's own society. But such is the next big chapter of change in the story of the Jewish world, since all of this plays a role in the Jewish narrative. If for no other reason, let this selfish view of one story necessitate action to solve another.
Throughout the trip I provided my own responses to the information I received. After all, I live in the right wing capital of the Jewish world. I've also been exposed to a fair amount of Israel advocacy. I was aware of the uneven distribution of facts in Hamed's speech. I carried with me the circumstances of the last Intifada, and threats of instant violence. But these observations didn't remove any legitimacy from the views of the speakers.
I think that my knowledge of Jewish history, and the oppression I've studied will not deter from my recognition of the need for a Jewish state. What this program has done though is motivate me to vocalize a rift in the language of the Conflict. So often in America, opinions reflect either pro-Israeli views or anti-Israeli views. I don't feel that there is a strong enough voice that is pro-Israeli and pro-Palestinian.
On my way back from the debrief session, I passed Gilad Shalit's father on the street, and was reminded again of the one-sided narrative here. How can Israeli's know what's going on just over the wall? They're either there as settlers, defending a home, whether out of ideological, practical, or religious motivations, or they're in the West Bank as soldiers, patriotically charged to defend their Jewish state from victimization, at the risk of victimizing others. Who else would Israelis listen to but American Jews? Who else has the power to shift perspectives? Certainly this takes a tremendous amount of dedication by a very different Jewish society than that existing in Israel, and one with its own problems. It also takes an attentive eye toward events not immediately effecting one's own society. But such is the next big chapter of change in the story of the Jewish world, since all of this plays a role in the Jewish narrative. If for no other reason, let this selfish view of one story necessitate action to solve another.
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