The Jewish State

If I called the US State Department to inquire about a work visa for a non US citizen whom I wish to employ and were asked if he was black, I would most certainly be shocked by the question and definitely challenge the racism so obvious in such a question. The race, religion, sexuality or gender of any individual who has the skills and experience to be employed are absolutely irrelevant, and moreover illegal to question.

But when an Israeli citizen recently called the Israeli Ministry of Interior to inquire about a work visa for me, he was given some information and then abruptly asked, “Is she Jewish?” My jaw dropped. This would surely be labeled racism were it asked here in the US, but in the Jewish state of Israel, it is practically natural that a Jew could be given a work visa without question yet a non Jew would experience a far more difficult process. How is it possible that now, in the 21st century, a state that privilege an entire race and religion over all others, including both the indigenous people and American citizens, whose money is the largest support Israel receives, is virtually accepted around the world? I think it’s been far long enough and we must stop and think about this exclusive state whose every structure is inherently racist.

As I sat in a Jerusalem bar last week, I struck up conversation with a French tourist. Much of his family had declared aliya (the law that allows any Jew in the world to gain citizenship almost immediately by declaring his “return” home) and lived in Israel. I asked if he planned to do the same. He said no, he was not really Jewish, at least, he clarified, in terms of religion. But he was racially Jewish. So, I asked what he thought of the Jewish State and he told me that it was necessary for Jews to have a safe place since they were unwelcomed throughout the world. Christians, he continued, could go anywhere, but not Jews. I challenged this claim and he responded that he had traveled extensively and never been threatened, and he was a Christian. I was confused. He said he was Jewish. A Christian Jew. But the question remained, how could he invok the Christian part of his identity and credit this with his safety? He said he was a white European and for this reason he was safe. But, I thought, most of the Jewish Israelis I saw were white Europeans, so which Jews were unsafe? Which Jews did Israel exist for? He was a bit confused by this point as well, but maintained that there was nothing racist about having a Jewish state. The US was a Christian state, he asserted. Okay, well, not really, but nonetheless, is Israel a religiously Jewish state or a racially Jewish state? A little of both, but here’s the crux, you don’t have to be a religious Jew to declare Aliya, you just have to prove to be racially Jewish. An Israeli citizen I know was asked if he is Israeli Israeli or Palestinian Israeli; apparently the former means pure Israeli, that is to say Jewish. Can you imagine if American American signified a “pure,” white American as opposed to a Black American? I can because it was not so long ago that “African” Americans were less than those imagined to be American Americans. We’ve come a long way in America, but not far enough. And since I can’t imagine the State Department questioning my race and using that to deny me a work visa, I don’t think we should so easily accept when any other state uses such categories to discriminate most and privilege some.

On Monday, the Israel Central Election Committee banned Arab political parties from running in the upcoming elections. Citizens of the state are no allowed to run for office because of their race. Imagine…but wait, in this country we can simply remember.

Palestine Five Years From Now...

An American friend was recently visiting me, and while we were sitting and talking over coffee in my house, she asked: “What do you think Ramallah will be like in five years?” I started imagining Ramallah’s potential. I thought about a new movie theatre and businesses, tourism, education… ”I mean, do you think you’ll even be able to get in to do this work?” She interrupted my dream with reality. It would likely not be getting better here, and I felt rudely awakened by her interruption. Not even be able to come here? What a terrible thought! Sure it was absurdly difficult to get in now, and staying was even more of a challenge, but we found ways. And as I thought of the millions of Palestinians who can’t get in or out, I pondered how this is likely the future of Palestine, and not just for Palestinians.
How can it be any different?

I remember last summer, taking my Palestinian family’s younger daughter to Jaffa for a weekend. We stayed in an Israeli hostel and the owner as well as guests would ask her where she lived and when she said Ramallah, I was horrified by their response: “You come from the West Bank!” they exclaimed with dropped jaws, staring at her like she was a dancing monkey. I knew then that there was a serious problem, a division on ethnic / racial lines that just blinded people to the Other. This fear was reinforced when the same American friend recently returned to see me after a time in Tel Aviv where she stayed with an American-Israeli friend. The stories my American friend told me of the Israelis with whom she went out… I don’t know how to communicate my disbelief and sadness, and I won’t repeat the racist stories here. Israelis have Palestinians all around them in everyday life, but not only do they not see them, they replace the real ones sitting next to them on the bus with the imagined Palestinian: the violent, threatening terrorist whose goal is to kill Jews. Find this absurd if you like, but I actually hear it all the time from Israelis. Even if they know there are other kinds of Palestinians, this is the one they think they know and the actual Palestinians are thought to be the exceptions rather than the other way around.

So, skip ahead a few days. I was walking with my Palestinian family’s oldest daughter and trying to tell her about my American friend who had been visiting. And I explained that she stayed with Israelis in Tel Aviv and that these Israelis were so ignorant about Palestine and that my American friend constantly tried to challenge them. And this daughter, she just could not comprehend my belief that we have to teach Israelis that there are human beings living under occupation so they can see how wrong it is to occupy Palestine, and then if we are lucky they will work towards real, just peace. And I don’t blame this 13 year old because why would she be able to imagine an Israeli who wants peace? She sees soldiers, guns, and tanks. Does that look like peace? She is not imagining Israelis as violent and threatening. She is seeing them, violent and threatening, in her daily life. She needs to see the ones that want a just peace. The ones that condemn occupation and the racist, exclusive state. But those are far too few, and they are not here. And so I can only conclude that the chances of Jewish Israelis opening their eyes to the thousands of Palestinians Israelis who are in their everyday worlds offers a far better chance of knowing the Other since Palestinians in the West Bank can’t get out of here and the only Israelis in here have guns. I can only pray Americans recognize their obligation to challenge Israel’s policies in Palestine and stop buying Israel bullets and tanks.

What will Ramallah be like in five years? Will I be able to get in here? Maybe Israeli will transfer its Gaza policy to the West Bank. Oh my god. Too many maybes… Five years and I don’t want to imagine any more.

Thoughts from Tel Aviv

I find traveling in the area of Israel proper, also referred to as 1948 Israel to distinguish it from the occupied territories of 1967, a terribly challenging experience. I’m sitting now in a fancy room at a fancy hotel a dozen floors up with a stunning view of a sea that most Palestinians are forbidden from even dreaming about. Occupation is not simply checkpoints, walls, and incursions, psychological warfare is alive and well. And when dreams are all you have, they will go after those too, though it doesn’t mean they will succeed in stopping them or you. Sixty years on and people still dream of their sea and their great grandfathers’ houses.

It’s not only that I can access Palestinians’ heritage—literally, for one of the many indigenous lines of genealogy Palestinians claim is the Philistine people who were a people from the sea and who made their livelihoods of and by the sea—but that I can bathe under a high pressure shower head in this beautiful room and never think twice about the millions of Palestinians who don’t have water to shower or cook or even drink today. Two days ago we were at Dheishah Refugee Camp in Bethlehem. The water tanks were empty, and Dheishah is not at all unique in this dilemma. This is occupation. We are stuffed at this hotel on what the Sheraton proudly calls “Israeli” foods, and in these foods I recognize the remnants of Palestine—the Palestinians animals Israeli soldiers and settlers slaughter for fun, the vegetables the Israeli government denies Palestines the water to grow and the permission to harvest, and the language, dishes, and heritage stolen and appropriated. Should I stop here with my critique? It’s enough for me to think on water and food and the sea. But I couldn’t stop there, so I asked the manager how many Palestinians are working here. He burst out rather too loudly, “I should hope none!” I responded, “That is too bad and very racist.” We talked a few minutes longer. I boldly claimed that I live in Ramallah, and he brazenly informed me that what I see there is not the reality of the situation. And I have to admit, I agree.

The reality of the situation is far worse than what I see in Ramallah. The reality is what I see in Qalqilya. Here is the worst, where an entire city is surrounded by walls and electric fences and has only two points of access, both heavily controlled by Israeli soldiers with all-too-young fingers on all-too-quickly-pulled triggers. In my time here I’ve had dozens of M-16s trained on me; how many times has a single Palestinian looked at the barrel of the gun? I’ve seen a young Palestinian boy of maybe 12 slapped around with full force by stupid 18 year old Israelis in uniforms that symbolize, to me, the worst of humanity.

The worst of reality is in Jayyus where an entire village is cut off from its olive orchards—its life sustenance—on top of which the people are all denied the Israeli military permits to tend and harvest that staple fruit. Instead, the military compensates them with the gift of sight; they can stare through the lens of an apartheid structure—a complex of ditches, fence, barbwire, a patrol road, security cameras and watch towers—at their dying trees and confiscated land. The worst of reality is in Jenin where once lush and famous fields of vegetation are dry and dusty because all the water is stolen and the people are told they must buy back that stolen water but have not the money to drink it themselves. So how can they think of watering their fields? The worst is in the Bedouin camps where a nomadic people live in a cycle of demolition and reconstruction, a cat and mouse game with the Israeli military who wants them gone. But they have no where to go and so they rebuild their shacks from the piles upon piles of debris the Catepillar bulldozers leave behind. The worst of the reality is in Gaza. We read enough to know of Gaza’s incomprehensible suffering. We read and we acknowledge, and I am no different in this. Then I sit in my beautiful room with my beautiful view and I think about one question over and over again: “How can we think this is justified in any way?” A few say it’s not, but by and large, Israel truly believes it is, and the world nods in support.

But a glimmer of hope to end: Palestinians still exist. They struggle, god knows, but they are here and alive. And whether Israelis are brave enough to acknowledge the other or not, the Palestinians are here. And some Israelis are fighting a lifetime of indoctrination to take on the call of the brave. How sad that this should be such a hard task, but alas, America and Americans have done no better. A final thought: I met a 16 year old Israeli Jewish girl yesterday, and she had a message for you and all Americans. She begged you not to believe what you have been told, to recognize that every story has two sides and those two sides have many faces and the faces have shades. Dare to complicate your understanding of the world, of conflicts in it, and of this one in particular. And in that complicated, confused state, imagine that we can make this world better and that you have a responsibility in doing that. And I told her I agree completed and invited her to visit me in the occupied territories. She will come, though from one hour drive away it will be far more difficult for her to do so than it will be for you to come from half way across the world. The boundaries we build and the ones our governments graciously build to protect us from the other are so very high and so very difficult to break down. But this girl inspired me because she is tearing them down with all her strength. She offers a promise of peace, and will all the Palestinian promises I’ve seen, I might just hold on to hope!