Talking to an Israeli friend this morning. He said somewhat casually, "Yea, I didn't even know there was a war. A friend asked what I thought about it, and I had to ask him, what war?"
I laughed in shock and said to him, "Isn't that incredible!"
He replied that it wasn't really because he doesn't pay any attention to the news.
So, I elaborated, "No, isn't it incredible that you are bombing the shit out of people less than an hour from your house, and you don't even know about it. You shouldn't have to turn on the news or look at the papers. You should know about it because at night you can see the light in the sky. Everyone is talking about it. Come on! Just think about it, you have the privilege to ignore the news, to ignore the violence. And what a privilege!"
He responded that most people have that privilege to which I retorted rather rudely, "Not the more than one million people in Gaza whose houses and schools and families you are bombing the shit out of!" And it's true, right? I mean, every life is sacred. But 10 dead, with only three civilians and four of the soldiers being killed by "friendly" fire, the loss--while tragic--is minimal compared to the more than 1,000 Gazans dead and 5,000 wounded. I guess my point is that at least my friend can ignore afford to ignore it.
Although he did mention that an emergency alarm was sounded in Jerusalem today. He said he was scared to death and didn't know where to hide. Turns out it was a mistake and went off accidently. The contrast is just absurd.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Educating in Palestine
Haven't written in a while. To start, I was kicked out of the country. Visa issues. I'd love to write about how a university teacher with a legitimate contract whose position is supported by powers that be in the institution can't get a visa to continue her job, but sadly we self-censor from fear of the future repercussions. It is pretty incredible to think about: I have a totally legitimate job and am having to teach by email and web conferencing because I am denied access to my students because they are occupied by a state who has every interest in denying education, health, food, water, etc. I try to be an observer, to tell what I see without personal analysis, but it's so hard. What kind of education can you hope for when getting textbooks, much less the money to buy them, is such a struggle. Or when your faculty members are systematically denied entry to the country where there jobs are? I'm not the first to experience this. Or when students can't access the university? Ideas can not be discussed under such circumstances nor infrastructure developed. It's just totally unrealistic for us to imagine fighting injustice when education is denied or impaired in the ways occupation impairs and denies it. A visiting scholar must pass herself off as a tourist to get a visa and only has a maximum of three months to do her work. Thank you occupation. At least the West Bank can get her for three months. Gaza is sealed, and they don't even have food there much less can they complain about education problems.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Visas
If you know anyone who tries to work or live in Palestine, you know that the most effective way for occupation to keep us out of Palestine and away from doing our work is to deny us visas. We try to come in on tourist visas, and we are forced to either leave and renew at borders, or to attempt a visa extension at the Israeli Ministry of Interior—a branch of the government that is infamous for is disorganization and refusals. I am, like most others, a victim of the visa. I was naïve enough to believe it would work itself out, but alas I have not only had my requested visa extension denied, but I was forced to buy a new plane ticket and sign a document swearing not to renew the visa. And so, I’m leaving. The crazy thing is, I had all my ducks in a row. I even had official government recommendations requesting my extension. And yet here I find myself refused. What can one do? It is nearly impossible to get a work visa for the occupied areas and that is where my life, work, and heart all reside. I know another guy, with no papers or plans, who went through the Ministry of Interior and found himself leaving with a six month extension. Why> Is there really any method to this madness? Maybe the point is to not create policies, to not have rules, to not have structure or organization. I don’t know. All I know is that it is utterly impossible to build infrastructure and institutions when we cannot keep employees here.
Strike
I remember a Palestinian friend one time saying that even were there no occupation, we would have a state that looked like every other Arab state—is that so much better. Sure it is, well, maybe not so much, but certainly better. As I sit here in a shared taxi waiting for the empty seats to fill up, even if only just one person would come so we can leave, I am thinking about that comment my friend make a year or more ago. We have had more strike days at this university than teaching days. And for what? Apparently the PA was given international aid for the express purpose of higher education. Something around 20 million dollars, not a penny of which any university in Palestine has seen yet. Hence the strike. A day here. A day there. But people are starting to get fed up, and now we are on two or three days a week of open strike. All universities in the West Bank are standing together to demand the PA share the wealth. Personally, I can understand the demand for higher pay. It’s basically peanuts and I don’t know how anyone can support a family on the income of a teacher here. Clearly we have been ineffective so far at holding the PA accountable. And I worry. I worry as I see the taxis lined up for another day without work. I worry as I see the empty cafeteria and dirty halls, workers home for another day without pay. How many thousands of people are being affected by this strike? How many millions by this occupation?
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Things Get Worse
Everyone is saying it. Everyone is feeling occupation squeezing tighter and tighter. More land. More water. More roads. More houses. More everything taken by force so that Palestinians are a people without. The military rerouted the Wall in the village of Jayyous. They "gave back" some of the land they had stolen. The new route took my friend's land. The IDF just came one morning and started uprooting trees. One olive tree: gone. Two olive trees: gone. Three: gone. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Gone. Dead. Everything that lives, everything Palestinian, including the olive tree, is in danger of extinction. Life is not sacred in the holy land anymore.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Palestine Stinks
I remember noticing the stench last summer. But it was only in particular areas, mostly the villages that were so unlucky as to have an Israeli Jewish settlement hovering atop them on the mountain. The sewage from the settlement was and is always routed to the Palestinian villages below.
But this year it’s everywhere. Palestine reeks. Maybe it’s the shear number of settlements and that much of the West Bank suffers from their sewage, but I think the land is breaking under the burden of destruction. Olive trees are burned from the sewage that seeps into the soil and shrivel up. It burns to breath in some areas. In Tulkarem the Israeli factories release chemicals into the air that burn your throat and nose when you breathe. And the trash piles, these huge mountains of rubbish that the settlements deposit outside of Palestinian villages. They stink and they rot the earth below them. I just don’t understand. Even if the Israelis want all the land for themselves, how can that happen if they destroy the land. And I can tell you this: they are destroying the land with their waste and pollution. They are killing Palestine.
But this year it’s everywhere. Palestine reeks. Maybe it’s the shear number of settlements and that much of the West Bank suffers from their sewage, but I think the land is breaking under the burden of destruction. Olive trees are burned from the sewage that seeps into the soil and shrivel up. It burns to breath in some areas. In Tulkarem the Israeli factories release chemicals into the air that burn your throat and nose when you breathe. And the trash piles, these huge mountains of rubbish that the settlements deposit outside of Palestinian villages. They stink and they rot the earth below them. I just don’t understand. Even if the Israelis want all the land for themselves, how can that happen if they destroy the land. And I can tell you this: they are destroying the land with their waste and pollution. They are killing Palestine.
Monday, October 27, 2008
A Friend in Palestine
I have this friend here in Palestine. He's one of the most intelligent and capable people I have ever met in my life. He's an activist who organizes Palestinians and Internationals to work in solidarity against the occupation. Every time this friend travels around the West Bank, the shared taxi in which he rides is subject to being stopped at checkpoints, which are strategically located all over the West Bank. There are three main terminals--permanent structures that are located so that if closed, the West Bank is wholly divided into three areas with no access.
At checkpoints, this friend and the other Palestinians are told to take out their Hawiyya--the id card written in Hebrew and Arabic that states their personal information: full name, mother's name, religion, gender, place of birth and place of issue. It is held in a green plastic slip cover, which is, like the id, a requirement--for it means that he is a West Bank Palestinian. Such a distinction is necessary for the Israeli soldiers who control these checkpoints. The blue ids mean that the person is from Jerusalem, which is a special category similar to a resident alien. Blue id Palestinians live in illegally annexed Jerusalem and are denied Israeli citizenship. Thus, when we say 20% of Israel's population is Arab, these are the excluded ones because they have Jerusalem id rather than Israeli citizenship. In fact, 50% of the population is "Arab," but only 20% are "Arab Israeli" citizens.
That blue id allows a Palestinian access in Israel and Palestine; it is a coveted card. But my friend has a green id, which is really shit because he is limited as to where he can go. Even within the West Bank itself he does not have access everywhere--though he is Palestinian. Oh the intricacies of this occupation! Every time this friend travels around the West Bank, I hold my breath. Checkpoints are sites of harassment, humiliation, violence and arrests. And as a young Palestinian male, much less one who is politically active, his very life is in danger. I am waiting for his arrest to come. Why will he be arrested? He was born Palestinian. It's that simple.
At checkpoints, this friend and the other Palestinians are told to take out their Hawiyya--the id card written in Hebrew and Arabic that states their personal information: full name, mother's name, religion, gender, place of birth and place of issue. It is held in a green plastic slip cover, which is, like the id, a requirement--for it means that he is a West Bank Palestinian. Such a distinction is necessary for the Israeli soldiers who control these checkpoints. The blue ids mean that the person is from Jerusalem, which is a special category similar to a resident alien. Blue id Palestinians live in illegally annexed Jerusalem and are denied Israeli citizenship. Thus, when we say 20% of Israel's population is Arab, these are the excluded ones because they have Jerusalem id rather than Israeli citizenship. In fact, 50% of the population is "Arab," but only 20% are "Arab Israeli" citizens.
That blue id allows a Palestinian access in Israel and Palestine; it is a coveted card. But my friend has a green id, which is really shit because he is limited as to where he can go. Even within the West Bank itself he does not have access everywhere--though he is Palestinian. Oh the intricacies of this occupation! Every time this friend travels around the West Bank, I hold my breath. Checkpoints are sites of harassment, humiliation, violence and arrests. And as a young Palestinian male, much less one who is politically active, his very life is in danger. I am waiting for his arrest to come. Why will he be arrested? He was born Palestinian. It's that simple.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Still Holding on to Hope
Some have noticed that I have not written for a while. I simply don't know what to say anymore. I don't know how Palestinians have survived this long. I don't know how people love, marry, bring new life into this world, celebrate, study, exist. I just don't know how they live in the face of daily violence and the constant attempts at destroying life here.
It is beyond my capacity for thinking to understand this occupation. It is intricate and it is brilliant. It is well funded and very well staffed. They erect walls and a Wall; they destroy houses and businesses; they "target" and assassinate, and not just those targeted; they watch with state of the art surveillance; they arrest and torture; they deny movement, education, and life; they erect checkpoints and decline permits to pass; they humiliate; they break spirits and bones. How do Palestinians exist after so many years of this? I swear I don't know the answer. I don't know how love can exist here. Even I can't keep my head up, and this is a new battle for me. I am fresh, strong and young. Yet I cannot endure against this omnipresent, omniscient and destructive force.
Today I saw a new comment on an old post. And it reminded me: I am not alone. They may have billions (US dollars) and an impossibly well trained, well armed military, but this is life we are talking about. And isn't the fight to exist stronger than that to destroy?
I hope so. I can only hope that this is true, and that we can hold on to what is humane here, that which this amazingly destructive project of Zionism attempts to decimate in Palestine.
It is beyond my capacity for thinking to understand this occupation. It is intricate and it is brilliant. It is well funded and very well staffed. They erect walls and a Wall; they destroy houses and businesses; they "target" and assassinate, and not just those targeted; they watch with state of the art surveillance; they arrest and torture; they deny movement, education, and life; they erect checkpoints and decline permits to pass; they humiliate; they break spirits and bones. How do Palestinians exist after so many years of this? I swear I don't know the answer. I don't know how love can exist here. Even I can't keep my head up, and this is a new battle for me. I am fresh, strong and young. Yet I cannot endure against this omnipresent, omniscient and destructive force.
Today I saw a new comment on an old post. And it reminded me: I am not alone. They may have billions (US dollars) and an impossibly well trained, well armed military, but this is life we are talking about. And isn't the fight to exist stronger than that to destroy?
I hope so. I can only hope that this is true, and that we can hold on to what is humane here, that which this amazingly destructive project of Zionism attempts to decimate in Palestine.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Look But Don't Touch
From particular points on the campus of my university, one can catch a glimpse of the sea to the east. The street from the university to the city also reveals a few exceptional views of the sea in the distance. Every time I see the sun reflecting on the horizon my heart hurts, and I think wouldn’t it be better not to see it. Wouldn’t it be better not to have to look at that which should be within reach but is in fact forbidden. Once a student told me that she hasn’t been to the water is 6 years. Another said he hasn’t been allowed since 1996. Everything he writes returns to that sea. Look but don’t touch. See what you are denied, and keep on weeping.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Imagining, Un Occupying
What would it look like? Can we imagine the landscape without settlements? Roads without checkpoints? Travel without military permission?
As I sit here, in a third floor cafe, looking out over the center of Ramallah, I am absorbed in the bustle of this awkward city. It is a village that was forced to host people and a "government" when both were systematically denied access to other places.
A traffic circle centers the city, which branches into six roads. People weave in and out of the cars. Boys loiter. Every once in a while the white skin and western dress of an international catches my eye. Shops are open, with people walking in and out, carrying bags. The energy of a stifled people, a stifled city, a stifled nation permeates the air.
What would Ramallah be like if Jerusalem were restored to her people? The capital would be declared, the government buildings moved, the people permitted access to pray. I love Ramallah, but it is bursting at its seams under the weight of occupation, and I want to imagine a new Ramallah because this center cannot hold. 60 years is just too long.
As I sit here, in a third floor cafe, looking out over the center of Ramallah, I am absorbed in the bustle of this awkward city. It is a village that was forced to host people and a "government" when both were systematically denied access to other places.
A traffic circle centers the city, which branches into six roads. People weave in and out of the cars. Boys loiter. Every once in a while the white skin and western dress of an international catches my eye. Shops are open, with people walking in and out, carrying bags. The energy of a stifled people, a stifled city, a stifled nation permeates the air.
What would Ramallah be like if Jerusalem were restored to her people? The capital would be declared, the government buildings moved, the people permitted access to pray. I love Ramallah, but it is bursting at its seams under the weight of occupation, and I want to imagine a new Ramallah because this center cannot hold. 60 years is just too long.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Racial Repulsion
Had a conversation with a guy I know tonight that really disturbed me. He said that he would choose to sit next to a white person on the bus over an Arab. He said that Arabic is vulgar and they are loud and smell bad. He said he was repulsed by Arabs. I told him it was racist. He said it was not. I asked if someone said the same about Jews would that be racist? Yes he said. But this is different. It's not just against a race in general. They are his enemy. I asked, "Are my students your enemy?" He was embarrassed. "Are my kids your enemy? My mom?" He was ashamed. He said, "Maybe not my enemy, but..."
"An Other?" I asked. He said yes. I said you only perpetuate this by othering them.
I said "If someone said to me, 'I would not sit next to a Jew,' I'd go after him for his racism. I'd tear him apart for it. You are saying that." I told him that he's better than that. He said it's normal. Everyone he knows thinks like that. I said it should not be normal and he should be ashamed of himself. Who knows how much he'll think about this after tonight. I can't stop thinking about it though. How can we find change in a society that is so thoroughly racist?
"An Other?" I asked. He said yes. I said you only perpetuate this by othering them.
I said "If someone said to me, 'I would not sit next to a Jew,' I'd go after him for his racism. I'd tear him apart for it. You are saying that." I told him that he's better than that. He said it's normal. Everyone he knows thinks like that. I said it should not be normal and he should be ashamed of himself. Who knows how much he'll think about this after tonight. I can't stop thinking about it though. How can we find change in a society that is so thoroughly racist?
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
What is Occupation?
The United States people fund the Israeli occupation of Palestinian people and land. The bullets in the soldiers’ guns, their uniforms and tanks—it’s our money and therefore our responsibility to understand what exactly we are funding.
I’m not criticizing the internal crisis nor commenting on any discrimination or human rights violations inside Israel. I’m talking here of occupation. In brief, since 1967, Israel has occupied the West Bank, Gaza Strip (disengagement is a myth), Golan Heights and East Jerusalem (illegally annexed). Occupation is legal under international law, but Israel’s occupation hasn’t been conducted according to international law; this occupation has committed endless human rights violations against the occupied.
What is occupation? Checkpoints and terminals; closures, sieges and curfews; tanks, guns and “targeted” killings; military prisons, courts and unending administrative detention; permits and id cards. More than a military presence, occupation here translates to denial of education, health, movement, life. Security can be invoked as an excuse for military occupation, but all people are human beings, and the cost of one people’s “security” should NEVER be another people’s insecurity and lives.
It’s weak to say that others suffer more, so Palestinian suffering is comparably little. It’s immoral to say there’s greater injustice elsewhere, so Israel’s human rights abuses are dismissible. It is dishonest to invoke atrocities to falsely applaud Israel as more humane, more free. A spectrum of human suffering should not be constructed, much less used to justify oppression and inequality.
Where there are gross and daily violations of human rights, we’re obliged to understand and challenge them--at home and abroad.
I’m not criticizing the internal crisis nor commenting on any discrimination or human rights violations inside Israel. I’m talking here of occupation. In brief, since 1967, Israel has occupied the West Bank, Gaza Strip (disengagement is a myth), Golan Heights and East Jerusalem (illegally annexed). Occupation is legal under international law, but Israel’s occupation hasn’t been conducted according to international law; this occupation has committed endless human rights violations against the occupied.
What is occupation? Checkpoints and terminals; closures, sieges and curfews; tanks, guns and “targeted” killings; military prisons, courts and unending administrative detention; permits and id cards. More than a military presence, occupation here translates to denial of education, health, movement, life. Security can be invoked as an excuse for military occupation, but all people are human beings, and the cost of one people’s “security” should NEVER be another people’s insecurity and lives.
It’s weak to say that others suffer more, so Palestinian suffering is comparably little. It’s immoral to say there’s greater injustice elsewhere, so Israel’s human rights abuses are dismissible. It is dishonest to invoke atrocities to falsely applaud Israel as more humane, more free. A spectrum of human suffering should not be constructed, much less used to justify oppression and inequality.
Where there are gross and daily violations of human rights, we’re obliged to understand and challenge them--at home and abroad.
Monday, September 29, 2008
20 Too Many
19 year old boy. A young body to be expected to handle 20 bullets. But 20 bullets he held courtesy of settlers...a too common tale these days.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
The Other Side
I had to take a medium length bus ride in Israel last week across half the country. The Central Bus Station swarms with soldiers--off duty, lounging around with guns slung across shoulders, drinking coffee in line, waiting for the next bus to wherever. It's strange to be surrounded by soldiers who are non threatening (thought guns are never non threatening). They don't know me. Even if they passed me through a checkpoint last week or last year, no one recognizes me. But for them I am traitor. I know this because I felt this yesterday.
On the first part of my journey a friend from Hebron called me, and I had to take her call because I'd neglected her far too long. I removed one ear bud of music, leaving the other one in (this is important because it made me far less aware of my volume and the people around me). I was in the back corner of the bus and directly surrounded by 4 soldiers. I can't explain how surreal it is to have them sit next to you, on a bus, and smile and chat and bump into you and apologize. It feels so wrong to move from screaming soldiers behind bullet proof glass, humiliating and degrading people to this. Some may read this and think, yea, well, they are human too. No, they are trained to oppress. And I can't see a division between work and life here. Human lives can't only be snapped during work hours. Israel is a machine that trains life to work for occupation. I hear kids saying how they are not excited to serve in the army, but we must. We must protect our country. Brainwashed.
Anyway, to the phone call. It was mostly in Arabic, and I was so embarrassed. And ashamed of my embarrassment. I got off the phone and thought, "I've betrayed myself." But no one around me seemed to notice. Not the kid in front of me with his huge gun slung over his sleeveless t or the soldier next to me who seemed to be sitting too close on purpose.
But on the return trip, again, I was forced to speak Arabic on the phone. And this time people noticed. A soldier had come to talk to a friend near me and ended up sitting by me. When I hung up the phone, he looked me over. It was something between disgust and confusion, mostly disgust. You know, Arabic is a national language here. And I was embarrassed to speak it because I feared consequences. Real consequences. I didn't just think people would not like me. I really don't give a shit. I thought they would hear my name and connect the dots and...well, fear, unfounded or not is the petroleum of the occupying machine. Self censorship. Fear. Oppression. Passivity.
On the first part of my journey a friend from Hebron called me, and I had to take her call because I'd neglected her far too long. I removed one ear bud of music, leaving the other one in (this is important because it made me far less aware of my volume and the people around me). I was in the back corner of the bus and directly surrounded by 4 soldiers. I can't explain how surreal it is to have them sit next to you, on a bus, and smile and chat and bump into you and apologize. It feels so wrong to move from screaming soldiers behind bullet proof glass, humiliating and degrading people to this. Some may read this and think, yea, well, they are human too. No, they are trained to oppress. And I can't see a division between work and life here. Human lives can't only be snapped during work hours. Israel is a machine that trains life to work for occupation. I hear kids saying how they are not excited to serve in the army, but we must. We must protect our country. Brainwashed.
Anyway, to the phone call. It was mostly in Arabic, and I was so embarrassed. And ashamed of my embarrassment. I got off the phone and thought, "I've betrayed myself." But no one around me seemed to notice. Not the kid in front of me with his huge gun slung over his sleeveless t or the soldier next to me who seemed to be sitting too close on purpose.
But on the return trip, again, I was forced to speak Arabic on the phone. And this time people noticed. A soldier had come to talk to a friend near me and ended up sitting by me. When I hung up the phone, he looked me over. It was something between disgust and confusion, mostly disgust. You know, Arabic is a national language here. And I was embarrassed to speak it because I feared consequences. Real consequences. I didn't just think people would not like me. I really don't give a shit. I thought they would hear my name and connect the dots and...well, fear, unfounded or not is the petroleum of the occupying machine. Self censorship. Fear. Oppression. Passivity.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Breaking the Isolation
Today I did something my colleagues found unconventional if not distressing. I sent up my computer, connected it to the internet and speakers, then had my class of 26 gather around the set up. We had a date with Rula Awad-Rafferty, a friend of mine in Idaho. Rula is a diasporic Palestinian who had an amazing opportunity this summer to visit the ruins of her mother's village--destroyed in 1948. Read about her story here (I assigned this article to my students).
We are studying collective memory and focusing on 1948 to think through some heavy concepts. My students are really motivated and very capable kids. I decided to have them conduct an in-class interview with Rula over the internet. They saw her on my computer screen, and she saw them on hers. Together they conversed for 45 minutes. It was a brilliant and moving 45 minutes. A few times I even choked back tears.
Among other things, Rula spoke of the inspiration she felt at seeing Palestinian resilience and strength under daily occupation when she was here. She was moved by the interview experience because she was able to reconnect, online, to Palestine. As she praised these students for living under occupation, it struck me: most of them have never connected with Palestinians outside of the West Bank and Gaza. They don't know that people all over the world like Rula are working for Palestine. I asked, and they didn't know. And it's a two way street. These kids feel forgotten, isolated, abandoned by the world to endure injustice and violence. And Rula felt disconnected from the situation and people here. They inspired each other, and it was such an incredible experience to watch both of their differing isolations being broken, and replaced by inspiration and motivation.
When the interview finished I asked how it went. My students broke into joyful exclamations, saying how amazing that was. And then one girl said, "I felt a little ashamed. She is working so hard for us, and we aren't doing anything. We aren't political. We just go about our daily lives, like we have given up the fight. I want to do more." I put my hand over my heart and smiled with the joy I felt inside, "Yes! We all can and must do more. We can and must! And it starts here and now."
We are studying collective memory and focusing on 1948 to think through some heavy concepts. My students are really motivated and very capable kids. I decided to have them conduct an in-class interview with Rula over the internet. They saw her on my computer screen, and she saw them on hers. Together they conversed for 45 minutes. It was a brilliant and moving 45 minutes. A few times I even choked back tears.
Among other things, Rula spoke of the inspiration she felt at seeing Palestinian resilience and strength under daily occupation when she was here. She was moved by the interview experience because she was able to reconnect, online, to Palestine. As she praised these students for living under occupation, it struck me: most of them have never connected with Palestinians outside of the West Bank and Gaza. They don't know that people all over the world like Rula are working for Palestine. I asked, and they didn't know. And it's a two way street. These kids feel forgotten, isolated, abandoned by the world to endure injustice and violence. And Rula felt disconnected from the situation and people here. They inspired each other, and it was such an incredible experience to watch both of their differing isolations being broken, and replaced by inspiration and motivation.
When the interview finished I asked how it went. My students broke into joyful exclamations, saying how amazing that was. And then one girl said, "I felt a little ashamed. She is working so hard for us, and we aren't doing anything. We aren't political. We just go about our daily lives, like we have given up the fight. I want to do more." I put my hand over my heart and smiled with the joy I felt inside, "Yes! We all can and must do more. We can and must! And it starts here and now."
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Education Under Occupation
How do I describe occupation? How do I convey to you the frustration and humiliation, the grief and stress of living under occupation? Even just to explain what occupation is...I don't know where to start. I don't know how to paint a picture for you that can possibly give you an idea.
Today I collected a one page descriptive writing assignment from my university students.
One girl described watching a little boy at a checkpoint who was trying to sell soldiers water. The soldiers knocked the boy's good to the ground and told him to pick them up. When the boy bent down, the soldier stepped on the child's back. When the boy succeeded in picking up all the bottles, one soldier grabbed the boy's shirt and demanded he use the water to wash. The boy said I will wash your face and then he spit on the soldier. They killed the boy. I don't know if this story is true, but a Palestinian student does not need a great imagination to write this story, even if it is not true.
One boy described the waves of the sea, and the sand, and the clouds and stars and the moon. And like many students who wrote happy descriptions, he closed by saying this was his dream. But his reality is that the sound of crashing waves, the sand between his toes, the water over his feet...it all remains a dream, and he knows that it will be a dream for years to come.
I left my class and walked through campus. Students, just getting out of class themselves, walked down the campus mall. Friends strolling along, laughing and chatting. Smiling faces, fashionable clothes, backpacks slung over shoulders. Normal students who are anything but normal. They are denied education, movement, health. They are denied their humanity. They are occupied in every sense of the word--these scary, threatening Arabs we all must fear. They violent Arabs against whom Israel must build a Wall and continue a violent occupation. They are my students and they write about another life, a life in which they are more human and free from the fear and pain of occupation.
Today I collected a one page descriptive writing assignment from my university students.
One girl described watching a little boy at a checkpoint who was trying to sell soldiers water. The soldiers knocked the boy's good to the ground and told him to pick them up. When the boy bent down, the soldier stepped on the child's back. When the boy succeeded in picking up all the bottles, one soldier grabbed the boy's shirt and demanded he use the water to wash. The boy said I will wash your face and then he spit on the soldier. They killed the boy. I don't know if this story is true, but a Palestinian student does not need a great imagination to write this story, even if it is not true.
One boy described the waves of the sea, and the sand, and the clouds and stars and the moon. And like many students who wrote happy descriptions, he closed by saying this was his dream. But his reality is that the sound of crashing waves, the sand between his toes, the water over his feet...it all remains a dream, and he knows that it will be a dream for years to come.
I left my class and walked through campus. Students, just getting out of class themselves, walked down the campus mall. Friends strolling along, laughing and chatting. Smiling faces, fashionable clothes, backpacks slung over shoulders. Normal students who are anything but normal. They are denied education, movement, health. They are denied their humanity. They are occupied in every sense of the word--these scary, threatening Arabs we all must fear. They violent Arabs against whom Israel must build a Wall and continue a violent occupation. They are my students and they write about another life, a life in which they are more human and free from the fear and pain of occupation.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Taybeh Beer
Daily lesson in occupation policy:
Taybeh Beer is the only microbrewery in Palestine. Named after the village where it is produced, Taybeh is delicious and offered in golden, amber or dark brews. While it comes in a bottle, draft Taybeh is particularly enjoyable...though I don't know why that is exactly that it tastes so much better in the glass. There are only a handful of restaurants that offer Taybeh on tap, and they are all local restaurants (Ramallah).
A friend in Jerusalem owns a bar. I insisted he switch from Taybeh in the bottle to draft. He cocked his head to one side and said, "I cannot. What happens when I install the tap, and the delivery is held up at a checkpoint? I can't promise Taybeh to my customers because the brewery can't promise it to me. This is occupation.
And I said, that's so smart. The market inside and outside of the West Bank is so volatile, so inaccessible...and a business cannot survive without fulfilling promises. Separate the goods from the consumer, and the consumer won't buy. And so, my friend stocks Israeli beers on his shelves. They are guaranteed. Kills two birds as well: undermines the Palestinian economy and strengthens the Israeli. Man occupation is smart!
Taybeh Beer is the only microbrewery in Palestine. Named after the village where it is produced, Taybeh is delicious and offered in golden, amber or dark brews. While it comes in a bottle, draft Taybeh is particularly enjoyable...though I don't know why that is exactly that it tastes so much better in the glass. There are only a handful of restaurants that offer Taybeh on tap, and they are all local restaurants (Ramallah).
A friend in Jerusalem owns a bar. I insisted he switch from Taybeh in the bottle to draft. He cocked his head to one side and said, "I cannot. What happens when I install the tap, and the delivery is held up at a checkpoint? I can't promise Taybeh to my customers because the brewery can't promise it to me. This is occupation.
And I said, that's so smart. The market inside and outside of the West Bank is so volatile, so inaccessible...and a business cannot survive without fulfilling promises. Separate the goods from the consumer, and the consumer won't buy. And so, my friend stocks Israeli beers on his shelves. They are guaranteed. Kills two birds as well: undermines the Palestinian economy and strengthens the Israeli. Man occupation is smart!
Friday, September 12, 2008
The Privilege of Teaching
Being a teacher is really quite a privilege. To start, you have an entire hour or hour and a half to talk to a captive audience. They have to listen to you, and they can only disagree if you let them. Really, education could easily be called indoctrination, for sometimes it actually feels like brainwashing. And I think that it can be brainwashing. Students are trained to take their teachers' words as gold, and I think we have a responsibility to retrain them to not just ingest but to challenge. To challenge everything.
I always say that I don't understand why Israel won't give me a visa if I say I live in Palestine. I mean, I am NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG! I'm teaching writing for god's sake! I gave a lecture this week that woke me up to the reality that for Israel, I am doing something very dangerous. I am inciting my captive audience.
My students are learning about collective memory--that lived experience that is shared by many and articulated by individuals of that collective. Collective memory informs the historical record, and the historical record constitutes the accepted version of the past and the present. Well, as we know from Palestine and Israel, the historical record is a Zionist history, much of which is based on myths and all of which is used to facilitate a colonialist project. Collective memory is a powerful tool...but only if articulated, accessed, and embraced.
Let's think about 1948 in Palestine. Israel's "Independence" is celebrated extensively and globally. On this 60th anniversary, let us really think about Israeli independence. The small but determined army of Jews defended themselves against the overwhelming Arab armies. "Never again," they shouted--a clear reference to the Holocaust and exile. End of story. Israeli collective memory of 1948 paints a triumphant, nationalist picture of success against great odds. And the national imaginary and historical record are wholly based on this experience, but the less referenced historical record shows Ben Gurion, the Zionist leader at the time, knowing that they were neither outnumbered nor overpowered, and certainly not threatened existentially. Yet he and his power dogs claimed otherwise, and Jews fought on this basis. So it is their collective memory which has in turn written history.
Where is the story of the Nakba? Few hear that story of Palestinians in 1948, though this is beginning. Where is their collective memory? It has certainly not shaped the historical record in any significant way to date. What does that mean? What I told my students, and what Said articulates, is that the Palestinian failure to consolidate their collective memory of the Nabka and shape it into a coherent narrative that is accepted as historical record is absolutely detrimental to the cause of Palestine.
Israel is ethnically cleansing Palestinians. It is a 60 plus year campaign, one that morphs but whose goal is steadfast. The Zionist Project will succeed, and there will be no Palestinians.
The future of the Palestinian people depends on their ability to harness collective memory and demand a new narrative that includes them and their experiences. For as long as the world knows only the Zionist history, Israel's "security measures"--read occupation and ethnic cleansing--are wholly justified. NO! There is a history of occupation and oppression here and I must believe the world would not condone Israeli state terror and ethnic cleansing and apartheid if the world really understood. But how can it? The Palestinians are silent; they are silenced. It is terribly easy to cleanse the silent / silenced from the land. And so I say: assert the collective memory and claim it as part of a history that the world must learn. Gather it and insert it into the historical record, because it is valid. But do it now, before it's too late.
I always say that I don't understand why Israel won't give me a visa if I say I live in Palestine. I mean, I am NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG! I'm teaching writing for god's sake! I gave a lecture this week that woke me up to the reality that for Israel, I am doing something very dangerous. I am inciting my captive audience.
My students are learning about collective memory--that lived experience that is shared by many and articulated by individuals of that collective. Collective memory informs the historical record, and the historical record constitutes the accepted version of the past and the present. Well, as we know from Palestine and Israel, the historical record is a Zionist history, much of which is based on myths and all of which is used to facilitate a colonialist project. Collective memory is a powerful tool...but only if articulated, accessed, and embraced.
Let's think about 1948 in Palestine. Israel's "Independence" is celebrated extensively and globally. On this 60th anniversary, let us really think about Israeli independence. The small but determined army of Jews defended themselves against the overwhelming Arab armies. "Never again," they shouted--a clear reference to the Holocaust and exile. End of story. Israeli collective memory of 1948 paints a triumphant, nationalist picture of success against great odds. And the national imaginary and historical record are wholly based on this experience, but the less referenced historical record shows Ben Gurion, the Zionist leader at the time, knowing that they were neither outnumbered nor overpowered, and certainly not threatened existentially. Yet he and his power dogs claimed otherwise, and Jews fought on this basis. So it is their collective memory which has in turn written history.
Where is the story of the Nakba? Few hear that story of Palestinians in 1948, though this is beginning. Where is their collective memory? It has certainly not shaped the historical record in any significant way to date. What does that mean? What I told my students, and what Said articulates, is that the Palestinian failure to consolidate their collective memory of the Nabka and shape it into a coherent narrative that is accepted as historical record is absolutely detrimental to the cause of Palestine.
Israel is ethnically cleansing Palestinians. It is a 60 plus year campaign, one that morphs but whose goal is steadfast. The Zionist Project will succeed, and there will be no Palestinians.
The future of the Palestinian people depends on their ability to harness collective memory and demand a new narrative that includes them and their experiences. For as long as the world knows only the Zionist history, Israel's "security measures"--read occupation and ethnic cleansing--are wholly justified. NO! There is a history of occupation and oppression here and I must believe the world would not condone Israeli state terror and ethnic cleansing and apartheid if the world really understood. But how can it? The Palestinians are silent; they are silenced. It is terribly easy to cleanse the silent / silenced from the land. And so I say: assert the collective memory and claim it as part of a history that the world must learn. Gather it and insert it into the historical record, because it is valid. But do it now, before it's too late.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Accepting Oppression
This term "normalization" is thrown around as an accusation against some or a strategy for others. I was asked what is so objectionable about normalization recently? I tried to answer that question, but I was poor in articulating the answer. And it came to me, just now. Normalization is trying to forget about occupation, trying to go on with life as if this were in fact normal, accepting occupation and living with it. Okay, this is the reality--occupation--and there is no choice for the occupied but to live with it. BUT, that does NOT mean you accept it, that you fail to recognize and dissent from and even fight against that very reality. Should the oppressed and oppressor be a normal relationship that is acceptable? Should violence be normal?! Normalization is that place where you accept oppression and try to get along with it. And oppression should NOT be normal!
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