The drums of war are beating, loud and frenzied. After several days of increasing Hamas provocations which made the life of Israeli civilians in the towns and villages near the border hell, the inevitable attack came yesterday. The calls for a military solution to the missile problem came from the whole political spectrum and reflected the general mood of the public. 'For every Kassam missile we should send a thousand bombs' said one politician. For every Grad missile we should flatten a whole neighbourhood in Gaza said another. Not a single voice called out for doubling our efforts at negotiating a cease fire, mediated by our international friends. After all, we don't speak to terrorists. Or do we?
Now the media and public are intoxicated by the military success not seen since the 1967 six day war. 60 war planes attacked simultaneously at 11.30 am. The targets were Hamas facilities. Location: crowded urban centres, where Hamas operates from. Casualties: 225 dead and 700 injured in 1 and a half minutes. And the politicians and the public are saying it had to be done. 'We have to stop this evil called Hamas at any cost'. But most of the people paying the price are not part of the 15,000 Hamas guerrillas or the dozens of politicians. They are the ordinary people already traumatized by previous attacks, poverty and occupation. People who have the same needs and aspirations of anyone on this planet. But they are hidden behind an abstract entity: Hamas.
When will we, Israelis, be able to see and feel the suffering of our fellow brethren across the Gaza border?
Sunday, 28 December 2008
Thursday, 24 July 2008
Camping
Last week we went with the Ivgis to this beautiful mountain, above the clouds, where few people live and the sun rises are glorious. The children enjoyed riding horses all day.
Last week we went with the Ivgis to this beautiful mountain, above the clouds, where few people live and the sun rises are glorious. The children enjoyed riding horses all day.
Last week we went with the Ivgis to this beautiful mountain, above the clouds, where few people live and the sun rises are glorious. The children enjoyed riding horses all day.
Sunday, 6 July 2008
"Please help me"
While the politicians are spending their time making empty promises in the hope of staying in power a little longer and the 'men with guns' are plotting the next murderous phase in the hope of scoring points (they know on both sides that this conflict can only be won on points. Knock out is not an option), the ordinary person continues to suffer. The story below illustrates this:
She stormed into the clinic saying: I need help; please help me. She seemed stressed and agitated.
She stormed into the clinic saying: I need help; please help me. She seemed stressed and agitated.
- I'll be with you in a minute I said. Just let me finish this treatment.
- I was relieved she spoke English as this seemed like a complicated matter. As soon as the treatment finished I invited her to come in.
- I'll call Harry right now. He will know what to do. Harry immediately knew who she was as he arranged for the original 10 month permit. I have good and bad news Harry said. The bad news is that no permits are issued at the moment to pass through the Reihan checkpoint. This means that she will have to travel to Jalame checkpoint where 150 people can get through every day. Just tell her that she has to get there early to be among the 150 people.
- I spoke to Harry again. He will arrange a meeting at the Ministry of Defence as soon as possible.
Sunday, 22 June 2008
Conversations
"Why are you working with Arabs?"
- Because I believe we are destined to living together in this part of the world. Because through frequent encounters we can learn about one another and dispel some of the myths surrounding this conflict.
- How do you know?
- That's a few people who represent some armed factions or terrorist organizations, whatever you want to call them. What about the millions of ordinary people who aren't involved in such activities?
- How do you know? have you spoken to every Palestinian in Gaza and the West Bank?
- I know that since the erection of the security wall it has been difficult for West Bank Palestinians to enter Israel and for Israelis to enter the West Bank. But what about Faradis, the Arab village down the road, Don't you meet people there?
- So, because a handful of hotheads resorted to violence nearly 8 years ago, you're boycotting the whole community?
- But I meet and talk to Palestinians every week. They are a diverse people with many opinions. I meet educated middle class people and poor uneducated people. They seem genuine in their desire to live and let live. Just like you. Why don't you try going out there to see for yourself? It seems to me that you have created a stereotypical Arab in your mind based on sensationalist media reports.
Sunday, 1 June 2008
Maya Bat Mitzvah
My baby Maya is 12 years old. She was born at the Whittington Hospital, London, at 3 am on a warm Friday morning. Clare was exhausted after a 10 hour labour and so the midwife handed Maya over to me and said: your wife needs to rest. The following 4 hours were the most magical I have ever experienced. I held my newborn baby in my arms and introduced her to the world she was born into. She seemed to be listening; she was looking around curiously and didn't even cry once. When I wasn't talking to her, we just sat quietly together. I was the one crying with joy. As dawn broke and the first rays of sunshine appeared, the room filled with light. Maya has been radiant with this light ever since.
Two days ago we celebrated Maya's Bat Mitzvah, the Jewish rite of passage. It's a beautiful ancient ritual which has stood the test of time. In today's bland modern world of cultural homogeneity, very few people connect with their ancestral traditions. I am proud of Maya for choosing to do this and for elegantly walking the path of her Mitzvah. She studied for six months with the wonderful Aviva and Rabbi Elisha from Ve'ahavta community in Zichron Yaakov. On the day, Maya's radiant light filled the room once again: the synagogue during her Parasha chanting and the Kibbutz dinning hall during her solo singing at the party. My baby Maya is 12 .
Two days ago we celebrated Maya's Bat Mitzvah, the Jewish rite of passage. It's a beautiful ancient ritual which has stood the test of time. In today's bland modern world of cultural homogeneity, very few people connect with their ancestral traditions. I am proud of Maya for choosing to do this and for elegantly walking the path of her Mitzvah. She studied for six months with the wonderful Aviva and Rabbi Elisha from Ve'ahavta community in Zichron Yaakov. On the day, Maya's radiant light filled the room once again: the synagogue during her Parasha chanting and the Kibbutz dinning hall during her solo singing at the party. My baby Maya is 12 .
Tuesday, 20 May 2008
Trip to Rambam Hospital
A few days ago I had a phone call from Abu Rami. He managed to get a 2 day permit to enter Israel and wanted to visit his 9 year old nephew who is receiving treatment for leukemia in Rambam hospital in Haifa. Nine year old Mohamed will have to stay in hospital for 8 months. His mother is by his bed side 24/7 but it's difficult for other family members to get permits to visit and help her care for him.
I arrived in Barta'a at 9 am to pick up Abu Rami and another relative, Farhan, and drive them to Haifa. I decided to take the scenic route. Looking out the window, fifty year old Farhan was like a little boy. The joy on his face as we were driving past vineyards and fields was unforgettable, eyes shining, skin glowing. When we got to the coastal highway and the sea was in view, both Abu Rami and Farhan were close to tears. Being cooped up in Barta'a for many years, makes you appreciate things that we take for granted.
Mohamed is a beautiful boy with smart smiling eyes. He was very happy with this rare visit. His mother was able to sit back and relax for a while. It must be difficult for her. Negotiating and communicating with the Hospital staff must be a constant challenge. She doesn't speak Hebrew and most staff don't speak Arabic.
After an hour in Rambam we set off. On the way back to Barta'a we stopped to buy fish and white bread (neither of which is available there). It was getting late but we still had enough time to stop at our place in Zichron for a coffee. Clare and I kept offering Farhan some food and drink but he was unable to touch anything. Still beaming he said: "just sitting here with you is all that I want".
I arrived in Barta'a at 9 am to pick up Abu Rami and another relative, Farhan, and drive them to Haifa. I decided to take the scenic route. Looking out the window, fifty year old Farhan was like a little boy. The joy on his face as we were driving past vineyards and fields was unforgettable, eyes shining, skin glowing. When we got to the coastal highway and the sea was in view, both Abu Rami and Farhan were close to tears. Being cooped up in Barta'a for many years, makes you appreciate things that we take for granted.
Mohamed is a beautiful boy with smart smiling eyes. He was very happy with this rare visit. His mother was able to sit back and relax for a while. It must be difficult for her. Negotiating and communicating with the Hospital staff must be a constant challenge. She doesn't speak Hebrew and most staff don't speak Arabic.
After an hour in Rambam we set off. On the way back to Barta'a we stopped to buy fish and white bread (neither of which is available there). It was getting late but we still had enough time to stop at our place in Zichron for a coffee. Clare and I kept offering Farhan some food and drink but he was unable to touch anything. Still beaming he said: "just sitting here with you is all that I want".
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
Remembrance Day
Exactly one week ago Israel marked Holocaust remembrance day. Clare and I were driving to Akko, when a siren marked the start of this remembrance day. Thousands of cars pulled over simultaneously, everyone standing outside their cars for the 2 minute silence. The whole country was standing still in memory of the six million Jewish victims.
Today is the annual remembrance day for Israel's dead soldiers and civilians killed in action and acts of terror. Memorial ceremonies throughout the country give a platform for communal grief. Tonight, at the end of Remembrance day, Israel will start celebrating 60 years of independence. But Israel's one million Palestinian Arab citizens will not be celebrating. They will be marking the 60th anniversary of Nakba day, their day of catastrophe representing defeat in the 1948 war and displacement of hundreds of thousands of people.
During last night's moving and emotional ceremony commemorating the fallen sons and daughters of Zichron Yaakov I realized something. We are a nation suffering from trauma. Two thousand years of collective memory of discrimination, abuse, murder and expulsion culminating in genocide - the Holocaust. And now, even with the establishment of a Jewish state, we experience wars and further loss. We are still traumatized. But the trauma has created an emotional blind spot. We are unable to see the suffering we have inflicted upon our enemy and feel their pain. We are unable to see that the world has changed. We are not a defenseless persecuted people anymore. Israel is a regional superpower, yet we still feel vulnerable.
The time has come to create a shared remembrance day in Israel. A day that commemorates the dead on both sides. A day when both communities acknowledge their pain and the others'. Maybe then we will be able to move forward and celebrate life in a shared society, a country where all its' citizens feel at home.
Today is the annual remembrance day for Israel's dead soldiers and civilians killed in action and acts of terror. Memorial ceremonies throughout the country give a platform for communal grief. Tonight, at the end of Remembrance day, Israel will start celebrating 60 years of independence. But Israel's one million Palestinian Arab citizens will not be celebrating. They will be marking the 60th anniversary of Nakba day, their day of catastrophe representing defeat in the 1948 war and displacement of hundreds of thousands of people.
During last night's moving and emotional ceremony commemorating the fallen sons and daughters of Zichron Yaakov I realized something. We are a nation suffering from trauma. Two thousand years of collective memory of discrimination, abuse, murder and expulsion culminating in genocide - the Holocaust. And now, even with the establishment of a Jewish state, we experience wars and further loss. We are still traumatized. But the trauma has created an emotional blind spot. We are unable to see the suffering we have inflicted upon our enemy and feel their pain. We are unable to see that the world has changed. We are not a defenseless persecuted people anymore. Israel is a regional superpower, yet we still feel vulnerable.
The time has come to create a shared remembrance day in Israel. A day that commemorates the dead on both sides. A day when both communities acknowledge their pain and the others'. Maybe then we will be able to move forward and celebrate life in a shared society, a country where all its' citizens feel at home.
Saturday, 26 April 2008
Trouble in Barta'a (part 2)
Abu Rami's son is back from hospital, recovering at home.
It all started on Sunday night, 3 weeks ago, when a group of kids from Kabatia taunted some local Barta'a youth. A fight broke out, knives yielded and Abu Rami's son was stabbed. Within moments hundreds of people gathered. The stabber, a guy from Kabatia, was about to be lynched when Abu Rami showed up. Shielding his son's attacker with his body, he led him to safety handing him over to Kabatia people (there is a big presence of people from Kabatia in Barta'a. They work and sleep in their market stalls).
At this point, there are no dead bodies. No deaths = no blood feud. But all of a sudden someone collapses. A 37 year old man suffers a fatal heart attack. He is from Kabatia, a village infamous for its' armed gangs and long history of violence.
The next day, Abu Rami came back from Hadera hospital with some news. He makes a public announcement on the outskirts of the market. His son, thank God is alive and recovering from his wounds. The man from Kabatia died of a heart attack. He has a copy of the death certificate. Everyone breaths a sigh of relief. This should be the end of it. But a few hours later, word is out that the gangs in Kabatia are seeking revenge. Anyone from Barta'a going to Jenin is taking the risk of being shot.
So now, life in Barta'a is even more difficult Muntasir tells me. "I need to get to Jenin periodically. That's where we do our banking and sort out administrative issues with the various governmental offices. I get supplies for my medical laboratory from there too". "With travel restrictions, it's often difficult to get to Jenin. But now, I am afraid for my life." Muntasir is 27 years old and has not been able to leave Barta'a for 3 weeks.
It all started on Sunday night, 3 weeks ago, when a group of kids from Kabatia taunted some local Barta'a youth. A fight broke out, knives yielded and Abu Rami's son was stabbed. Within moments hundreds of people gathered. The stabber, a guy from Kabatia, was about to be lynched when Abu Rami showed up. Shielding his son's attacker with his body, he led him to safety handing him over to Kabatia people (there is a big presence of people from Kabatia in Barta'a. They work and sleep in their market stalls).
At this point, there are no dead bodies. No deaths = no blood feud. But all of a sudden someone collapses. A 37 year old man suffers a fatal heart attack. He is from Kabatia, a village infamous for its' armed gangs and long history of violence.
The next day, Abu Rami came back from Hadera hospital with some news. He makes a public announcement on the outskirts of the market. His son, thank God is alive and recovering from his wounds. The man from Kabatia died of a heart attack. He has a copy of the death certificate. Everyone breaths a sigh of relief. This should be the end of it. But a few hours later, word is out that the gangs in Kabatia are seeking revenge. Anyone from Barta'a going to Jenin is taking the risk of being shot.
So now, life in Barta'a is even more difficult Muntasir tells me. "I need to get to Jenin periodically. That's where we do our banking and sort out administrative issues with the various governmental offices. I get supplies for my medical laboratory from there too". "With travel restrictions, it's often difficult to get to Jenin. But now, I am afraid for my life." Muntasir is 27 years old and has not been able to leave Barta'a for 3 weeks.
Thursday, 24 April 2008
Beit Jann
It's Pesach in Israel and the kids are off school for 2 weeks. We took advantage of the holiday to travel around Northern Israel. Beit Jann is a Druze village, 1100m above sea level, the highest populated spot in the country, overlooking both the Mediterranean and the Sea of Galilee. The wooden cabin at the top of the mountain was as beautiful as our Druze hosts.
Sunday, 13 April 2008
Trouble in Barta'a (Part 1)
The clinic was shut on Monday when we arrived at Barta'a. Something didn't feel right. I called Abu Rami who didn't sound like his usual self. He said Ikram, the receptionist should be over soon to open the clinic. We decided to drive to the checkpoint to see what was going on. It was business as usual at the checkpoint, only light human traffic passing through at 9 am. We started walking down the barbed wire corridor, hoping to get to the area where Palestinians get 'processed' on their way in and out, when we were abruptly stopped by a security officer, gun pointing at us from the watch tower. "Are you Israeli?" he asked. Yes, I replied. He seemed more puzzled than us: "Why are you here?" "Because we want to see what our patients have to go through before they arrive at the clinic" I replied. "Well, you can't go here, this area is only for Palestinians. Israelis are only allowed to go through by car". We didn't have the required permits anyway, so we turned back, feeling very weird. People coming through the checkpoint seemed calm and indifferent, but I couldn't help wondering what impact this daily encounter has on one's psyche. Barbed wire corridors, watch towers with guns pointing in your direction on your way to work, or to visit friends, or shopping or just going from A to B.
Back at the clinic, the doors were still shut. Another phone call to Abu Rami, who says Ikram is on her way. She arrives soon after and opens the door. On the doorstep, just inside the clinic she picks up a blood stained shirt. "It's Abu Rami's son" she says. "He was stabbed last night during a fight between rival gangs in the village. He is injured but alive in hospital. Abu Rami is with him". To be continued..
Back at the clinic, the doors were still shut. Another phone call to Abu Rami, who says Ikram is on her way. She arrives soon after and opens the door. On the doorstep, just inside the clinic she picks up a blood stained shirt. "It's Abu Rami's son" she says. "He was stabbed last night during a fight between rival gangs in the village. He is injured but alive in hospital. Abu Rami is with him". To be continued..
Thursday, 27 March 2008
Thursday, 6 March 2008
Pain
This week was a tough one. Barta'a on Monday. Givat Haviva on Wednesday.
On Sunday night, following a weekend of extreme violence in Gaza where over 100 people were killed (Israel claimed most were armed men, the Palestinians claim most were civilians: women and children, the truth is always somewhere in the middle) Israel radio issued a warning to Israeli citizens not to travel to Palestinian towns and villages.
We never considered not going to Barta'a. The warning, meant to deter Israelis from entering the West Bank for fear of revenge attacks or kidnapping was effective. A friend who was going to join us for the first time, opted out. While one might be taking a risk traveling to some places, I believe that instilling fear in people is also an objective. Because fear acts as the fuel for hatred and ignorance, keeping people entrenched in their view of the other, justifying the violent path for solving the conflict (on both sides).
In Barta'a, what I saw and felt was pain and grief. everyone was feeling it. The atmosphere reminded me of what goes on in Israel after a terrorist attack with many casualties. There is a collective display of grief, people are subdued, almost depressed and the one topic of conversation is the futility of loss of innocent lives. But the myths go on. Many people in both communities can't see the other as one sharing the same human traits; as one who mourns their dead in the same way; who feels pain in the same way.
On Wednesday I had lunch with my Arabic teacher, Majid. He seemed unusually sad and I asked him what was wrong. He told me about his impossible predicament: "I am a loyal citizen of this country, Israel, but I am also an Arab. A Palestinian. When Palestinians are killed in Gaza I want to protest, to display my sympathy towards the families of the dead but it's difficult. I will be considered a traitor by my Jewish Israeli friends if I do. If I don't, I am considered a traitor by my Palestinian friends." Then he went on to tell me a story: "There are twins. In 1948 (after the war, with the establishment of Israel) one twin is adopted and becomes the step child (Israeli Arabs), enjoying some rights and security but not quite the same as the natural child (Israeli Jews). The other twin (Palestinians) is forgotten, going into foster care. Now the twins want to reestablish a relationship, they are identical twins and always felt close but the relationship is complex. Issues of loyalties and sibling rivalries are at the core..."
On Sunday night, following a weekend of extreme violence in Gaza where over 100 people were killed (Israel claimed most were armed men, the Palestinians claim most were civilians: women and children, the truth is always somewhere in the middle) Israel radio issued a warning to Israeli citizens not to travel to Palestinian towns and villages.
We never considered not going to Barta'a. The warning, meant to deter Israelis from entering the West Bank for fear of revenge attacks or kidnapping was effective. A friend who was going to join us for the first time, opted out. While one might be taking a risk traveling to some places, I believe that instilling fear in people is also an objective. Because fear acts as the fuel for hatred and ignorance, keeping people entrenched in their view of the other, justifying the violent path for solving the conflict (on both sides).
In Barta'a, what I saw and felt was pain and grief. everyone was feeling it. The atmosphere reminded me of what goes on in Israel after a terrorist attack with many casualties. There is a collective display of grief, people are subdued, almost depressed and the one topic of conversation is the futility of loss of innocent lives. But the myths go on. Many people in both communities can't see the other as one sharing the same human traits; as one who mourns their dead in the same way; who feels pain in the same way.
On Wednesday I had lunch with my Arabic teacher, Majid. He seemed unusually sad and I asked him what was wrong. He told me about his impossible predicament: "I am a loyal citizen of this country, Israel, but I am also an Arab. A Palestinian. When Palestinians are killed in Gaza I want to protest, to display my sympathy towards the families of the dead but it's difficult. I will be considered a traitor by my Jewish Israeli friends if I do. If I don't, I am considered a traitor by my Palestinian friends." Then he went on to tell me a story: "There are twins. In 1948 (after the war, with the establishment of Israel) one twin is adopted and becomes the step child (Israeli Arabs), enjoying some rights and security but not quite the same as the natural child (Israeli Jews). The other twin (Palestinians) is forgotten, going into foster care. Now the twins want to reestablish a relationship, they are identical twins and always felt close but the relationship is complex. Issues of loyalties and sibling rivalries are at the core..."
Saturday, 1 March 2008
The winds of war
have started blowing here, coinciding with the warm easterly spring breeze. Maya has tonsillitis, Elah had flu and I bought another 12 bottles of water to store in our 'safe' room in case a full blown war breaks out.
At the moment the war of attrition is intensifying in the south. Ashkelon, a city only 40 minutes from Tel Aviv is now the subject of daily rocket attacks. The assassinations in Gaza, targeting Hamas activists, are claiming the lives of many civilians. Today, an incursion into Gaza by the Israeli army has left 2 soldiers dead (both 20 years old) and 50 Palestinians dead, many of them civilians (including children) caught in the cross fire. All the mainstream politicians in Israel are talking about a massive military operation to 'solve the problem' (daily rocket attacks on Israeli towns). Only one fringe political party (Meretz) is seriously considering Hamas' offer of longterm cease fire. To add to all of this violence and rhetoric, Hizbollah are claiming the right to strike Israeli targets at any time in response to Mughniyeh's assassination in Damascus last month (assumed to be the work of Mossad but officially denied).
The cyclical nature of this armed, violent conflict seems to be on a downward spiral at this moment in history, threatening to spiral out of control. We have to continue the grass roots work toward peace, especially now, while the 'men in suits' and the 'men with the guns' are locked in their corners, unable or unwilling to think creatively and compassionately about a way out.
I have added a piece by Gideon Levi from the Israeli news paper Ha'aretz, one of a few journalists who aren't afraid to look at some harsh truths:
During the past two years, we have killed almost 900 Gaza residents. About half of them were people who did not take part in the fighting. That is how restraint looks. At a time when we are counting the Qassams and their victims, in Gaza they are counting the dead. Presenting things as though we have not yet entered Gaza or "beaten the hell out of Gaza" is meant to deceive. Yes, more can be done.
Imagine if the Palestinians were to kill dozens of Israelis, including women and children, in one week, as the IDF did. What an international outcry we would raise, and justifiably. Only in our own eyes can we still adhere to our restrained, forbearing image. All the talk about the 'major operation' is designed to achieve only one goal: to show it is possible to be even more violent and cruel.
That is an extremely pathetic consolation. The siege, the assassinations and the raid this weekend are terrifying enough. The claim that as opposed to them, we do not intend to kill children and citizens, is also overused and deceptive. The gun sights of Israeli weaponry are sophisticated. If the Palestinians had Apache helicopters and sophisticated drones like ours, we can assume that they would choose more strategic targets than the yard of a hospital in Ashkelon or a parking lot in Sderot. The Qassam is the weapon of the poor and helpless.
In the South, a war of attrition is taking place between the strong and the weak. It will not be stopped by military means. It is therefore surprising and depressing to see the uniform chorus of the residents of the Western Negev, city dwellers and kibbutzniks, the direct victims, in favor of the IDF's pointless fighting. How is it that in the entire South, not a single different voice can be heard, calling for a change in direction? How is it that no group of Sderot residents, yes, they of all people, is shouting in protest? Demonstrating in the city squares, not in favor of more of the same, but in favor of a different, much more promising approach? After all, they are the ones who are paying the heavy price, and they should be the first to see what the residents of the center of the country cannot see.?
The residents of Sderot, and now Ashkelon as well, have to look and see beyond the fence that is meant to protect them, and is imprisoning their neighbors. To understand that as long as things are so bad there, things will be bitter for them as well. That as long as we don't talk to them, nothing will change. They, who know that every assassination is followed by the 'Color Red' Qassam alert, fear and anxiety, who know that dozens of assassinations have not improved their lives at all, that the present raid will not help either, should be the pioneers who bring about the change we need.?
A large operation is now at its height. It has not helped at all so far; it will never help. Neither will the siege, the assassinations, the raids or the bombings. Perhaps the good will originate from the South, and someone there will call for something else?
At the moment the war of attrition is intensifying in the south. Ashkelon, a city only 40 minutes from Tel Aviv is now the subject of daily rocket attacks. The assassinations in Gaza, targeting Hamas activists, are claiming the lives of many civilians. Today, an incursion into Gaza by the Israeli army has left 2 soldiers dead (both 20 years old) and 50 Palestinians dead, many of them civilians (including children) caught in the cross fire. All the mainstream politicians in Israel are talking about a massive military operation to 'solve the problem' (daily rocket attacks on Israeli towns). Only one fringe political party (Meretz) is seriously considering Hamas' offer of longterm cease fire. To add to all of this violence and rhetoric, Hizbollah are claiming the right to strike Israeli targets at any time in response to Mughniyeh's assassination in Damascus last month (assumed to be the work of Mossad but officially denied).
The cyclical nature of this armed, violent conflict seems to be on a downward spiral at this moment in history, threatening to spiral out of control. We have to continue the grass roots work toward peace, especially now, while the 'men in suits' and the 'men with the guns' are locked in their corners, unable or unwilling to think creatively and compassionately about a way out.
I have added a piece by Gideon Levi from the Israeli news paper Ha'aretz, one of a few journalists who aren't afraid to look at some harsh truths:
'Restraint' is deceitful, and 'forbearance' is vain 
Even yesterday evening, after the IDF already had killed about 50 Palestinians, at least half of them unarmed, and including quite a number of women and children, Jerusalem continued to claim, "At present there will be no major ground operation." It's incredible: The IDF penetrates the heart of a crowded refugee camp, kills in a terrifyingly wholesale manner, with horrible bloodshed, and Israel continues to disseminate the lie of restraint. Two days earlier Israel killed more Palestinians than have been killed by all the Qassams over the past seven years. Among the dead were four children and an infant. The next day Israel killed another five boys. And who is the victim? Israel. And who is cruel? The Palestinians.
This victimhood is not new, nor is our self-deception. The current lie: 'restraint.' Israel is demonstrating 'restraint' in the face of the Qassams; this assertion continues to spur the commentators and security experts to urge it to embark on the anticipated 'major operation.' But this operation began long ago. It reached its peak yesterday.
Our desperate attempt to have our cake and eat it, too, to claim that there is no 'major operation' at a time when the IDF is killing dozens every day, is nothing new. It has existed since the days of the 'enlightened occupation' and 'purity of arms,' through 'the major operation that has yet to begin' - all of them impossible desires. A senior minister who was asked last week about the siege on Gaza replied: 'Occupation of Gaza is less moral.' In this way, we have once again established ourselves a relative and distorted values system, with no absolute morality, only a double standard. Behind every action of ours in Gaza, even the terrible one this weekend, hides an option that is even worse. The fact that we are not yet carrying it out helps us to present ourselves in a positive light, to boast how moral we are.
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Imagine if the Palestinians were to kill dozens of Israelis, including women and children, in one week, as the IDF did. What an international outcry we would raise, and justifiably. Only in our own eyes can we still adhere to our restrained, forbearing image. All the talk about the 'major operation' is designed to achieve only one goal: to show it is possible to be even more violent and cruel.
That is an extremely pathetic consolation. The siege, the assassinations and the raid this weekend are terrifying enough. The claim that as opposed to them, we do not intend to kill children and citizens, is also overused and deceptive. The gun sights of Israeli weaponry are sophisticated. If the Palestinians had Apache helicopters and sophisticated drones like ours, we can assume that they would choose more strategic targets than the yard of a hospital in Ashkelon or a parking lot in Sderot. The Qassam is the weapon of the poor and helpless.
In the South, a war of attrition is taking place between the strong and the weak. It will not be stopped by military means. It is therefore surprising and depressing to see the uniform chorus of the residents of the Western Negev, city dwellers and kibbutzniks, the direct victims, in favor of the IDF's pointless fighting. How is it that in the entire South, not a single different voice can be heard, calling for a change in direction? How is it that no group of Sderot residents, yes, they of all people, is shouting in protest? Demonstrating in the city squares, not in favor of more of the same, but in favor of a different, much more promising approach? After all, they are the ones who are paying the heavy price, and they should be the first to see what the residents of the center of the country cannot see.?
The residents of Sderot, and now Ashkelon as well, have to look and see beyond the fence that is meant to protect them, and is imprisoning their neighbors. To understand that as long as things are so bad there, things will be bitter for them as well. That as long as we don't talk to them, nothing will change. They, who know that every assassination is followed by the 'Color Red' Qassam alert, fear and anxiety, who know that dozens of assassinations have not improved their lives at all, that the present raid will not help either, should be the pioneers who bring about the change we need.?
A large operation is now at its height. It has not helped at all so far; it will never help. Neither will the siege, the assassinations, the raids or the bombings. Perhaps the good will originate from the South, and someone there will call for something else?
Saturday, 16 February 2008
Six months on, the children speak....
Click on the videos to see the children summing up their time here so far in their own words.
Tuesday, 12 February 2008
New York, Zichron Yaakov, Barta'a, Tel Aviv
Back from New York again. Max had his 5th course of chemotherapy which went quite well this time. I am grateful that I was able to support him through some of his most difficult moments. This time the acupuncture needles I brought were very useful. Alan, my brother in-law was down with Pneumonia and my sister had back pain so both were happy to receive treatment from me. I guess this ordeal is taking its toll on everyone. It has been 5 long months since they all moved to NY for Max's treatment.
Over here in Zichron all is well. Clare is enjoying her involvement in various activities. She is almost fluent in Hebrew now and still studying twice a week. The pottery class she is taking is also going well. She is also involved with 3 Darfurian refugee families whom the local community 'adopted'.
Maya is very happy at the moment. She is doing really well at school and all her extra curricular activities (Clarinet, choir, Dance and youth movement). She is also studying for her 'Bat Mitzva' and really looking forward to the big day - 29th May. She even has a job, teaching a 5 year old boy who is forgetting his English.
Ben is happy though struggling on some levels at school (he prefers to read his Harry Potter books instead of engaging with the lessons). We were told that soon he is getting one one on support. He is enjoying his electronics course, speaking Hebrew and cycling everywhere.
Elah is as stubborn as ever. She refuses to speak Hebrew but seems to understand everything. She makes friends easily but also falls out with them regularly. Clare is teaching her English reading and writing which she is enjoying tremendously.
We had a meeting in Barta'a with the Mayor, his deputy and all the people involved in the project and were guaranteed more support from the local council in our joint activities. The Mayor closed the meeting with the words: 'I hope that one day, soon, Palestinians from Barta'a and other places will also be able to volunteer, in Israel; then we will really be working together, as equals, towards our shared goal: peace'.
My baby sister Tzili is here for a visit with her 6 week old son. We all went to Tel Aviv to see them on Friday. The excitement was great.
Over here in Zichron all is well. Clare is enjoying her involvement in various activities. She is almost fluent in Hebrew now and still studying twice a week. The pottery class she is taking is also going well. She is also involved with 3 Darfurian refugee families whom the local community 'adopted'.
Maya is very happy at the moment. She is doing really well at school and all her extra curricular activities (Clarinet, choir, Dance and youth movement). She is also studying for her 'Bat Mitzva' and really looking forward to the big day - 29th May. She even has a job, teaching a 5 year old boy who is forgetting his English.
Ben is happy though struggling on some levels at school (he prefers to read his Harry Potter books instead of engaging with the lessons). We were told that soon he is getting one one on support. He is enjoying his electronics course, speaking Hebrew and cycling everywhere.
Elah is as stubborn as ever. She refuses to speak Hebrew but seems to understand everything. She makes friends easily but also falls out with them regularly. Clare is teaching her English reading and writing which she is enjoying tremendously.
We had a meeting in Barta'a with the Mayor, his deputy and all the people involved in the project and were guaranteed more support from the local council in our joint activities. The Mayor closed the meeting with the words: 'I hope that one day, soon, Palestinians from Barta'a and other places will also be able to volunteer, in Israel; then we will really be working together, as equals, towards our shared goal: peace'.
My baby sister Tzili is here for a visit with her 6 week old son. We all went to Tel Aviv to see them on Friday. The excitement was great.
Sunday, 27 January 2008
Peace Walk in Jerusalem
I joined my first silent peace walk this weekend. It was a very powerful experience; 200 people, Muslims, Christians and Jews, Israelis and Palestinians all committed to non-violence, tolerance and listening. We walked silently through the streets of Jerusalem, then along the walls of the old city, ending at the Mount of Olives where Jack Kornfield (the famous Buddhist teacher) spoke to us. Below is some information from the middleway.org website about the 'Walk':
What is the Walk?
It is a non-violent action that empowers those that take part, as well as demonstrating to others that peace between Jews and Arabs is possible.
The character of The Walks includes the following:
1. The Walking itself is in silence and in a long line.
2. We wear as a symbol a white sash.
3. Leaflets are usually given out, but we walk with no posters or signs.
4. All are welcome, Jew or Arab, right wing or left.
5. No political or other group can make representations. Members of such groups are however welcome as individuals as all other Walkers.
6. We are careful and considerate to all communities we encounter, and we do not intend to provoke argument or conflict.
7. During the stops and camps of a Walk, programs are set up to practice dialogue, healing and co-existence.
8. The Walk can go anywhere, provided there are no undue risks and the form is kept.
9. The Walk is not a forum for political speeches, even of important visitors. Effort is made to encourage visitors to talk about reconciliation, suffering and healing of suffering.
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
Cold Winds
After the worst cold spell Israel has suffered in living memory, cold winds are blowing in Barta'a. For the first time since I started working on this project I got the 'cold shoulder' treatment.
Abu Rami and I went to the local council building, next door to the clinic, to get some coffee. We entered a room full of smoking men, exchanged some greetings and were offered a cup of coffee. A few of the men were familiar faces, often coming to the clinic for a chat or treatment. The tension in the air was palpable. The radio was on with live coverage from Gaza. Under siege, without power, cold dark and hungry, the humanitarian crisis is deepening. And so is the frustration and despair among Palestinians in the West Bank, helpless bystanders in the suffering of their relatives and friends. The tension I felt was one of loyalties. On the one hand there were gestures of hospitality (I was offered coffee), dictated by cultural norms, on the other hand I was all but ignored. How could they socialize with me, an Israeli, when all this suffering is inflicted on their brethren by my government's army?
As long as people on both sides are blinded by an ethnocentric world view. As long as my Israeli friends cannot see the injustice and inhumanity in the suffering of people in Gaza. As long as my Palestinian friends cannot see the the injustice in the suffering inflicted on the people of Sderot (exposed to daily barrages of missiles, living in constant fear, their lives and livelihood going down the drain), we will not have peace.
And moving to a world centric view (where you view the other as equal, regardless of ethnicity) takes time and work.
Tuesday, 1 January 2008
two thousand and eight
Happy New Year to you Mustafa. You came to see me yesterday at the clinic in Barta'a and I thank you for sharing your story with me. Your impossible predicament highlights the need for all of us to move beyond the champagne and 'happy new year' rituals and try to open our hearts to the suffering of our fellow beings, wherever they may be.
You were badly injured and lost an eye from rubber bullets fired at random during a peaceful demonstration which you weren't a part of. Yet you bear no resentment towards the soldier who did this. You are thirty years old and still living with your parents because you can't afford to build your own place ( a prerequisite to starting your own family). Renting is not an option in the village yet you don't have the freedom to move to the city. In fact you don't have the freedom to travel anywhere outside Barta'a because you are a young single male and are considered a threat by the state of Israel. So, you are stuck in a dead end job (even though you have a science degree from Abu Dis university) and left to roam the streets of Barta'a in your spare time. Occasionally you will risk imprisonment and travel to the nearby Israeli towns with your friends from Barta'a who hold Israeli IDs. Or risk humiliation, delays and detention and travel to Jenin (on the other side of the 'wall'). 'This is not a life' you tell me, but you don't complain.
So, Mustafa my friend, let us hope that 2008 will bring you and millions of others around the world the basic needs and human rights that you deserve (and we take for granted).
You were badly injured and lost an eye from rubber bullets fired at random during a peaceful demonstration which you weren't a part of. Yet you bear no resentment towards the soldier who did this. You are thirty years old and still living with your parents because you can't afford to build your own place ( a prerequisite to starting your own family). Renting is not an option in the village yet you don't have the freedom to move to the city. In fact you don't have the freedom to travel anywhere outside Barta'a because you are a young single male and are considered a threat by the state of Israel. So, you are stuck in a dead end job (even though you have a science degree from Abu Dis university) and left to roam the streets of Barta'a in your spare time. Occasionally you will risk imprisonment and travel to the nearby Israeli towns with your friends from Barta'a who hold Israeli IDs. Or risk humiliation, delays and detention and travel to Jenin (on the other side of the 'wall'). 'This is not a life' you tell me, but you don't complain.
So, Mustafa my friend, let us hope that 2008 will bring you and millions of others around the world the basic needs and human rights that you deserve (and we take for granted).
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