(AP Photo/Oded Balilty)

Last week the Sheikh Jarrah Solidarity Movement held two demonstrations in Ras al-Amud (two years ago I had not heard of Sheikh Jarrah either, in spite of the fact that it was the neighborhood at the foot of the University I’d studied at and neighborhood I’d lived in for a year and a half, and in spite of the fact I’d been through the neighborhood countless times on buses and in taxies).  These non-violent demonstrations were in protest of the ground breaking of a new settlement in the heart of Ras al-Amud, called Maaleh David, which had just been approved by the municipality and of the existing settlement Maaleh Zeitim to which it will not only be adjacent but also connected to by a bridge.   Maaleh Zeitim is already the largest settlement in any of the Palestinian neighborhoods of East Jerusalem, with more than a hundred housing units.  The addition of Maaleh David alongside it serves to highlight the Israeli government policy of moving Jews into areas that are populated by Palestinians to inhibit the ability of that region from being exclusively Palestinian and thus preventing it from being part of a future Palestinian state.  It’s the “facts on the ground” method; if we build it the world can’t possibly ask us to give it up in the future.

I’ve been following developments in Ras al-Amud for a week now.  The second of the two demonstrations last week turned violent when police used unprecedented force against Israeli demonstrators.  It is standard operating procedure for the Israeli police and army to use violence when putting down non-violent Palestinian protests, but the use of batons and tasers by police against Israelis was entirely new.

These events are significant on multiple levels: the strategy of solidarity, the tactic of civil disobedience and the recognition and acceptance of another’s identity, all of which are important for ending the Occupation.  While it is disturbing to know that police used violence to put down the peaceful demonstration of its own citizens, what is more significant is the fact that these demonstrations are occurring.  The work of the Sheikh Jarrah Solidarity Movement is what its name indicates; based on solidarity, the solidarity of Israelis with Palestinians, of West Jerusalemites with East Jerusalemites, of residents of a city standing together in voicing their opposition to unjust policies and laws.  So, first and foremost, the events in Ras al-Amud and Sheikh Jarrah are significant because they are based on solidarity.

Second, the conversations of many involved in the protests are once again focusing on civil disobedience.  Many of the members of the Sheikh Jarrah Solidarity Movement have already been arrested, some multiple times, for their non-violent demonstrations.  The decisions to break a law, risk bodily harm, and get arrested cannot be taken lightly.  Civil disobedience is the breaking of laws.  Specifically, it is the breaking of unjust laws because of a recognition that certain laws sometimes work to stymie justice and that there is a moral justification to break those laws in order to pursue justice.  Technically, a sit-in that blocks the entrance to a settlement is illegal.  So last week when Israelis and Palestinians sat down together in the road to block the entrance of a settlement, a settlement that was built to purposely fracture the Palestinian community of Ras al-Amud, a settlement that violates Article 49 of the Fourth Geneva Convention to which Israel is a party, they were breaking the law.  Six protestors were arrested.

Solidarity and civil disobedience are extremely important.  They are two of the tools of justice.  And the weekly Friday protests in Sheikh Jarrah and now perhaps Ras al-Amud are steeped in both.

But Solidarity and civil disobedience in the face of injustice are not the only reasons why these protests are important, they are also important because they reaffirm the names of people’s communities and by extension their identities.  In 1998 when I was 18 I did not know that Sheikh Jarrah existed because I was told not to ride the bus line that went thorough that “dangerous, dirty village where terrorists live”.  In 2000 when I was 21 I did not know that Sheikh Jarrah existed because when I asked what that area was and who lived there I was told “don’t worry about it, it’s just some unimportant Arab village”.  But in the summer 2009 when I was 30 I slept in the houses of Mahar Hanoun and Nasser al-Ghawi and their families.  I slept in their homes because even though they had legitimate legal deeds to their homes they were going to be evicted.  I slept in their homes because Israeli police carry out evictions in the middle of the night and the hope was that if internationals were in the houses it would deter the families’ evictions.  They welcomed me, an American Jewish woman, to stand in solidarity with them against the court-ordered and yet unjust prospect of being made homeless because they are not Jews.  I slept in their homes, and learned that their homes were in a neighborhood called Sheikh Jarrah, and in the middle of the night of August 1, 2009 (early in the morning of August 2, 2009), on a night when I was in my bed in my apartment in the neighborhood of French Hill, the Hanoun and al-Ghawi families were evicted from their homes.  I spent the rest of the month standing in solidarity with the families as they protested outside of their own homes, homes that Israeli settlers now occupied.

For 11 years the name Sheikh Jarrah had been hidden from me, divorced from the place it represented, and in a very Orwellian way disappeared from people’s consciousness.  But not all people’s consciousness, just some; the Hanouns and the al-Ghawis and the other residents of Sheikh Jarrah knew what their neighborhood was called; the name had been erased for me and other Jews so that we would not know.  Just like until last week the name Ras al-Amud had been erased for me and others.

It is important to talk about Ras al-Amud because solidarity is a powerful strategy for just change.  It is important to talk about Ras al-Amud because civil disobedience is a powerful tactic for just change.  And it is important to talk about Ras al-Amud because though some would like to keep the name Ras al-Amud hidden and rename the area other things like Maaleh Zeitim and Maaleh David, they cannot change the fact that Ras al-Amud exists.  Last week the news broke, and in solidarity, and with the use of civil disobedience, the protesters were heard, and a name entered the consciousness of a larger audience.

*Originally posted June 10, 2011 at Sarah’s blog

So for me, an important question is: “What is the possibility of de-radicalizing the radicals?” Has it ever been done?  Can those people who are currently driven by hatred and violence possibly be expected to contribute something positive and peaceful to the future of the region?

I was recently listening to a podcast (This American Life) covering a political meeting taking place in Egypt.  This meeting was special because it was comprised of people of varying backgrounds discussing the formation of new political parties and the democratic future of Egypt.  What caught my attention was that in attendance were several members of Gamaa al-Islamiya, literally translated as “The Islamic Group.”  Created in the 1970s, Gamaa al-Islamiya openly advocated violent terrorist actions in order to replace the Egyptian government with an Islamic state. Responsible for the deaths of hundreds of Egyptian policemen, soldiers, and civilians, Gamaa al-Islamiya is perhaps most infamous for a campaign of violence in the 90s in which the Islamic Group targeted prominent writers and intellectuals, government employees and tourists.  During 1993 alone, the terrorists had killed or wounded 1,106 people.  “One survey found that in 1993, more cops [120] than terrorists [111] were killed … Several senior police officials and their bodyguards were shot dead in daylight ambushes.  Score of low-ranking policemen were picked off as they left home for work in the morning.^“ As Lawrence Wright, a reporter for the New Yorker, puts it, “Blood on the ground became the measure of the Islamic Group’s success, and it was all the more thrilling because the murder was done in the name of God.^“

Then, in 1997, the imprisoned leaders of Gamaa al-Islamiya did something extraordinary; they released a series of writings for the public known collectively as “the revisions,” in which they rejected violent jihad and formally apologized for their past transgressions – willing their organization to become legitimate and peaceful.  “We wanted to relay our experience to young people to protect them from falling into the same mistakes we did,” said Karam Zuhdy, a founder of the Gamaa al-Islamiya.

Now, after 24 years in prison Nageh Ibrahim, a leader of the once-violent Islamic Group, sits peacefully among 29 other people in a meeting – many of them writers, artists, and intellectuals working to secure secular Egypt.  After one of the writers asks a question about what kind of art would be allowed in a Gamaa al-Islamiya government an argument breaks out, but it is a civil argument in which each side has the opportunity to state and defend their opinion. In the end Nageh Ibrahim says something not usually associated with the leader of a radical movement; “Look, we may differ with you about art but Gamaa al-Islamiya will not burn art, will not destroy, will not ban.  I could disagree with you about literature, art, or politics but that does not mean I would be violent against you or attack you.  No, we fight thought with thought.”

This is truly a remarkable (dare I say radical) change in ideological perspective but if we are to learn anything from it, to apply it to other radical terrorist organizations such as those operating in the conflict between Palestine and Israel, then we must examine how such a change took place.   The leaders of the Gamaa al-Islamiya say their trans-formative experience from violence into peace began much earlier than their capture by Egyptian officials but that they could not complete it because they were surrounded by the opposing blood-thirsty voices of the majority of their peers.  It was only after they had been sent to prison, packed into tiny cells with up to 30 other people largely without any outside information about their cause’s advancement that they began to have deep debates about the nature and effectiveness of violence.  Their minds were changed further when Sheikh Ali Gomaa, Egypt’s Grand Mufti and a symbolic advocate for moderate and progressive Islam, began paying them visits in the late 90s.  He recalls; “We had debates and dialogues with the prisoners, which continued for more than three years.  Such debates became the nucleus for the revisionist thinking.”

This is an important case study if we are to maintain hope that radicals can be transformed to moderate non-violent proponents of the change they seek. The lessons of this story are many and, of course, it is not a simple task.  As Sheikh Ali Gomaa explains; “Our experience with such people is that it is very difficult to move them two or three degrees from where they are.”  However, Gamaa al-Islamiya stands as a powerful example of the possibility for meaningful changes in the Israel/Palestine conflict.

“Before, we thought you could remove the infidel ruler only through force,” said Nageh Ibrahim after the recent removal of President Mubarak, “Today, we see we can do it through peaceful protest and the ballot box.^“

Let me explain.  I’m not talking about whether the flotilla is “good” or “bad”.  I’m not talking about whether it is over hyped and has too much media exposure.  And I’m not talking about whether it is too explicitly pro-Palestinian.  The question that concerns me is if the mission of this flotilla is to deliver humanitarian aid, be a high profile international protest, or an attempt at both.

The question matters.  It has implications that reach far beyond the shores of Gaza and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  And for me, clarity on this issue is critical for understanding what the flotilla is and what value it ultimately creates.

To get at this question we first need to address what good humanitarian aid looks like.  I have been fortunate enough to study humanitarian aid; its best practices, successes and failures, and core principles, at the graduate school level from a leading aid practitioner.  My teacher, who has her M.D. in Emergency Medicine a M.P.H. in Public Health and a M.P.H. in Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, and has been on the ground providing aid throughout Africa, in post-tsunami Indonesia and in post-earthquake Haiti.  Without exaggeration, she is one of the best in the world, though she is much too modest to ever say so herself.

I’m providing a truncated resume to aid the appropriate weight and correctness to what she taught me about humanitarian aid.  Not all of what I learned about providing aid is relevant to the case of the flotilla, but several very important aspects are.

1. Aid workers should never, ever, under any circumstances, be armed.  During the first flotilla some of the participants were armed to various extents, from metal pipes to knives and perhaps even guns.  Being armed does not make an aid worker safer; it puts them in greater danger.  It also calls into question the humanitarian nature of their mission and if they are doctors their ability to uphold the Hippocratic Oath.
2. Aid workers should never, ever, under any circumstances, take sides in a political conflict.  Doing so can lead to several problems including being used as pawns in a conflict and only providing aid to one party to a conflict.  Aid workers need to remain impartial so that they can be of assistance to all those in need.
3. Humanitarian aid should address the specific needs of a particular situation and be tailored to provide what is actually needed.  It should also be as efficient and effective as possible, which often means working in coordination with local governments.  Humanitarian aid can be temporary shelter, building supplies for construction, food, clean water, sanitation facilities and medicine just for starters.  Effective aid cannot be delivered without local government permission at the very least and coordination and co-implementation in the best cases.

It is important to keep all of this in mind when assessing if this second flotilla is an aid mission and if it has a legitimate chance of actually providing much needed aid to the people of Gaza.

The second aspect of this question is what international protest looks like.  I’m a rabble rouser by nature.  I have not tolerance for injustice and discrimination and I’m a big believer in the power and value of non-violent political protest by “the people”.  It’s important to speak truth to power and fight the powers that be for justice and equality.  If that came off as cheesy or too earnest, I apologize; I am truly sincere in this stance and world view.

The Israeli blockade of Gaza by land, sea, and air is cruel and unjust.  The policy is mostly about punishing an entire population of roughly 1.6 million people; not preventing terrorism.  Such a total blockade creates a level of control that calls into question Israel’s assertion that it is no longer occupying Gaza.  The blockade has created a preventable humanitarian crisis and the people of the world have a right to protest this policy.  I oppose the blockade policy and I’m not afraid to say it.  Non-violent political protest in the face of injustice and suffering is not only legitimate; it’s perhaps the most important type of action that people of conscious can take.  And for non-violent actions of protest to be really effective they have to be high profile, they have to create controversy, they have to shine a light on the hypocrisy and injustice that they oppose.

Clearly, humanitarian aid missions and high profile political protests are very different things.  They have different goals and different modus operandi.  I believe that both are valuable for making the world a better place.  But I also believe that they are distinct for a reason and that trying to combine them into one operation will result in the failure of both sets of goals.

If the primary goal of the flotilla is to deliver aid, then it should make sure none of the flotilla participants are armed in any way.  It should do everything in its power to avoid armed conflict.  It should bring as much as the needed aid items as possible and not waste cargo space with letters of peace and hope.  It should pressure the Israeli authorities to deliver aid in an effective and timely matter but at the same time coordinate the relief effort with the government.  If the goal is to be an aid mission the flotilla should conduct itself according to international standards and best practices of aid missions, and it should do so not only to increase its chances of success but also to avoid putting future aid missions around the world in danger by confusing the purpose of an aid mission with something else.

If the primary goal of the flotilla is to protest an unjust policy, then it should not even attempt to run a military blockade with humanitarian supplies.  It should focus all its messaging on human rights, the occupation, and on Israeli policies.  It should train all flotilla participants in non-violent protest techniques.  And most of it should be up front and explicit that it is trying to make a point, stir the pot, cause a ruckus, and ultimately challenge injustice in order to bring it to an end.  It’s a noble goal.  It’s a legitimate goal.  And if it is the goal then the flotilla organizers and participants need to own it; not conflate it with a separate and distinct type of mission.

Which brings me back to the original question, what is this second flotilla trying to be; an aid mission or a profile protest?  It can’t be both.  It has to choose.

Image from Freegaza.org

The phrase Stay Human is credited to Italian human rights activist Vittorio Arrigoni, who visited Gaza in 2008 on the first Free Gaza Flotilla and subsequently spent much time in the area.  He was murdered in Gaza a few months ago; the details surrounding his death are murky, although many suspect that he was killed by a militant group.  UC-Irvine Professor Mark LeVine notes in an article on Al Jazeera’s English website that Arrigoni’s mantra, Stay human, “well summarizes what can only be described as the prime directive of life for Gazans under a dehumanizing siege.”[1]

LeVine credits Arrigoni with inspiring the “Gaza Youth Breaks Out” (GYBO) movement, a Gazan youth grassroots resistance movement.  These young Gazans are sick of politics and NGO’s.  They live daily with little political voice and few economic opportunities (unemployment in Gaza is currently at just over 45%).  Certainly the quality of one’s life is limited by social and economic barriers, but one’s humanity itself is not determined by economic or socio-political power.  GYBO activists are asserting their humanity through creative forms of resistance.  They take seriously the injunction to “stay human” through asserting their own narratives of life in Gaza, rather than conforming to the various narratives put forth by Hamas, Fatah, Israel, America, or the many other voices that often dominate the storytelling of Israel/Palestine.  Gazans are too often objectified through each of these narratives- they are viewed as passive recipients of whatever fate is assigned to them.  While they have few avenues to physically refuse the multiple occupations under which they live, they are creatively resisting the hijacking of their perspectives.

The participants in this flotilla broadcast a much-needed call for the world’s recognition of the humanity of those living in Gaza.  Beyond the official politics, there are human lives at stake here, and these people have their own stories to tell.  We must remember that.

For my relatives and friends, the aspects of Iranian reality that I found fascinating- fatigue with Islam, political cynicism, flouting authority- were routine. They knew the regime wasn’t held together by a devotion to revolutionary Islam, but a clique of corrupt clerics driven by messianic ideology and greed. The failure of the revolution, the bankruptcy of its ideology was the backdrop of daily life, manifested in state newspapers left in unread piles at the newsstand, official newscasts no one watched. For those who lived these realities, they were foregone conclusions, too obvious to discuss. But for me, new to all of this, spinning in outrage, there was nothing I needed more than to talk it all through, to release the anger in English, so that it did not stay welled up inside me… Three years later, when friends or relatives would visit, I would see my then self reflected in them, agog at the grotesque propaganda that I had, by that time, come also to take for granted (88-9).

It’s not that the specific events of this author’s experience relate to me at all but rather the initial experience of emotional outrage which leads to confusion and frustration which eventually plateaus in apathetic exhaustion and, when confronted with outsiders in the first phase, swells back to emotional outrage with a hint of guilt. This is what I mean by rollercoaster and is how I feel about my experience in Israel/Palestine. So I’m asking, how, as a human rights activist, can you devote yourself to a community without becoming susceptible to their same apathy? If, in order to be one among the population with which you intend to help, you fully integrate in that society, how do you maintain your energy and fervor and remain realistic? Is it a mental survival tactic to slowly let your outrage fade in the face of no progress?

I’ll selfishly conclude with this: How do you reconcile your present and “then” selves? I used to become frustrated if I spoke with people who were uninformed or uninterested in the modern Israel/Palestine debate. Now I find it even more alarming to have a conversation with someone who is passionate and well-informed because it only mirrors my past self back at me and I realize that whatever I have accomplished is nothing significant in the grand scheme of the conflict. Perhaps a possible solution is a continuous rotation of activism so that no individual can find herself stuck at the end of the rollercoaster with no ext in sight. For now, a new step in the direction of London will be my eye-opener to just how much remains to be done toward a just and sustainable peace.

I tend to be a bit of an optimist.

Instead, people in America seem to have gotten bored – or perhaps confused by most of the events, save those that effect our prices at the gas pump. Our daily news cycle has reverted back to covering political scandals while the “Arab Spring” continues to move on. Porter Speakman, director of the documentary film “With God on Our Side,” said it pretty well in a sarcastic Tweet I saw late into the weekend:

In case you’re confused, he’s referring to two different protests happening right now in Syria – one against the current President of Syria, Bashar al-Assad, and another against the State of Israel and the global political policies that keep Palestinian refugees displaced. Specifically, he’s referring to Sunday’s demonstration against the State of Israel where Israeli forces killed at least 6 Pro-Palestinian demonstrators and wound nearly 100 as the protesters crossed the Israeli border from Syria in a symbolic attempt to remind the world of the Palestinian refugees “Right of Return”, a right that was established by the UN in 1948. This was the demonstrators second attempt to cross the border in less than a month – the last confrontation left more than a dozen dead.

Palestinian Refugees and Demonstrators crossing the Syrian Border into Israel. Copyright CNN.

What’s really tragic about all of this is not just the brevity of the American attention span (is anyone even paying attention to the Syrian protests?) – but the way in which we pick and choose which causes are worth our attention and which causes we feel compelled to put on the back-burner. For example, the Palestinian movement to bring attention to their oppressive occupation has been going on, non-violently, for years. Yet, I have yet to hear anyone talking about Israel the way we have now started talking about al-Assad, Mubarak, or Gaddafi. Instead, the Palestinian situation seems to be set aside, as if the motivations and methods are somehow different in the Palestinian case than they are throughout the rest of the region.

President Obama’s recent Middle East speech at the State Department focused on the US’ unequivocal support for democratic movements throughout the Middle East. He promised to help countries like Tunisia and Egypt make their way into the global economy, to provide a new system of support as their fledgling democracies grow. For his words to be taken seriously, he must include the Palestinian struggle within that realm of support.

The Palestinian movement is in some ways the grandfather to many of the movements we have seen blossom over the past few months, and to exclude the Palestinian people would be to exclude the very heart of regional movement that is taking place. Furthermore, to exclude the Palestinian people at a time like this would be a dangerous risk – one that could set the area ablaze. As tensions rise and protesters feel ignored, more and more Palestinians expect a third Intifada to begin (nearly 70%, according to polls), though it seems clear that any extended violence would push back the possibility of negotiations for years.

So maybe it’s my American attention span – Maybe it’s the fact that Israel is clearly nervous about their precarious situation in a region full of uprisings -Maybe it’s because the world is just plain sick of the constant violent cycle in Israel-Palestine. Whatever the case, the time for a positive move forward is now. As the political season picks up again – make sure to tell your representatives to put their pants back on, end their road trips, and start working towards some positive changes for those people risking their lives for a chance at freedom.

_________________________________________

For those who are interested in learning more about the uprisings in the Arab world, check out this phenomenal interactive graphic at The Guardian.

Two external elements are at play here too: For instance, another interesting take on this development is the speculation that this pact came as a response to the “Arab Spring”. If this is the case I can’t help but say that it is, in my opinion, a diplomatic and innovative “revolution”. What could be more threatening to Israel? They’re used to having street protests suppressed or civilian marches quieted. Bringing Hamas into the equation of a Palestinian escalated the “revolution” from 0 to 60 overnight. Additionally, if Fatah and the Palestinian Authority are to unilaterally proclaim statehood in the coming months, with or without Israel’s acknowledgement, then a unified Palestinian politic seems a well-played, strategic step to gain legitimacy in the international community as well.

Meanwhile it’s a week of secular, national holidays in Israel aimed at mourning and remembering those who fell victim in the Holocaust (May 2), soldiers and civilians who gave their lives for the state of Israel (May 9), and celebrating Israel’s independence (May 10). This week combines for a rollercoaster of emotions that unites the vast majority of Jewish Israelis regardless of their religious beliefs or political affiliation. As an outsider I can point out the missed opportunity between a potentially game-changing Fatah-Hamas reconciliation and a mourning state wanting a peaceful future. Sadly that’s illogical and the truth is that in mourning and in raucous celebration, Israel takes this historical vulnerability and national pride and asserts that it still wants to be in charge when it comes to discussing the future.

Netanyahu is stuck again. He’s aware that refusing negotiations will make Israel less popular in the international eye but his once submissive negotiating partner, Palestinian President Abbas, now has a big bully friend on the political playground. Zvi Bar’el put it nicely in his Ha’aretz article this week, “(Netanyahu) has been betrayed by a partner he always claimed never to have, a cunning partner who had seemed weak and dependent” (Palestinian unity has cast Netanyahu adrift). While Hamas still refuses to recognize Israel’s right to existence, it stated to adhere to Abbas’ discretion on action toward Israel. Israel has become accustomed to the Palestinian socio-political rift, using it in favor of Israel in fact, and assumed that the peace process could continue to speak in terms of territories, not people and leaders.

It really is a phenomenal thing to see an entire country pause for a minute-long siren in commemoration for its fallen brethren. Life pauses everywhere, even the road traffic halts and pulls over to stand in silence throughout the siren. It’s truly moving to see an entire people unite in commemoration like this; a coming-together of people in stark contrast to that of the Palestinian people which remains to be seen as a threat rather than an opportunity for a more peaceful future.

First, what is anti-Semitism?  The definition provided on the Anti-Defamation League’s website is, “the belief or behavior hostile toward Jews just because they are Jewish.”[1] Anti-Semitism is similar to other forms of prejudice or racism in that it involves hatred based on the identity of a group of people.  While it most plainly manifested in the Holocaust, anti-Semitism continues to be an important issue in the contemporary world.

Now, I’d like to address what anti-Semitism is not.  A major issue here is that Israel claims to be a “Jewish and democratic state.”  This, of course, complicates the issue because if Israel is by definition tied to the Jewish people, then are criticisms of Israel inherently criticisms of the Jewish people?  I think it is important to make the distinction between the state of Israel and the Jewish people as an ethnic group.  Israel is a modern nation state, and criticisms of Israeli policy should be viewed through the same lens as criticism of any other nation state’s policy.  A state is not a people, despite the complication of Israel’s status as a “Jewish” state.

There are two sides to this coin, and on each side there are those who equate the state of Israel with the Jewish people as a whole.  On one side, hatred of Israeli policies turns into hatred of the Jewish people.  We have seen a rise in anti-Semitism in the Middle East since the establishment of the state of Israel, and I think it is precisely because people are equating the politics of Israel with the entirety of the Jewish ethnic group.  The other side of this coin is seen when Israel’s critics are accused of anti-Semitism.  Those on both sides of this coin are making the mistake of equating the state with the Jewish people, and the sides are in a mutually reinforcing relationship.

It’s a complicated issue, and I’m not suggesting that it’s an easy one to fix.  I do think, however, that we should be aware of the politics of rhetoric about anti-Semitism- both “sides of the coin” have to stop conflating Israel and the Jewish people if (actual) anti-Semitism is going to stop.

The occurrence itself is not unique to Jerusalem, however the potential for it to be manipulated politically and its significance in justification for retaliation is perhaps more unique to Jerusalem. It reminds too many of us of what life was like during the Second Palestinian Intifada and it de-rails working relationships among Israelis and Palestinians when the Prime Minister immediately attributes the explosion to the Israeli-Arab community. As much as Israelis would love to point out the general peace in Jerusalem as a contrast to the unrest in the Middle East, this kind of seemingly isolated incident has the power to explode far beyond its immediate consequences. I quickly scanned the Denver area news outlets to intercept the information my parents would be reading and was morbidly, albeit perhaps refreshingly, reminded that there are terrible things going on all around the world. My only contention is that in Jerusalem, one example of such an event has a greater potential to erupt into something far beyond its intended outcome.

One week later, I can tell you that I am amazed at what a minimal ripple the bombing has made in Israeli newspapers, radio shows, and discussions around the city. I do not want to minimize the suffering of those who were injured and killed but the story is absent from Jerusalem news reports. By the following day, the only report regarding the bomb explosion was that the first annual Jerusalem Marathon would still be held two days later. The day after that the news returned to Libya and Syria and I have not seen a report of the incident since then.

I suppose it should be a comfort to me that it seems to have come and gone as an isolated incident but I know Israel too well by now to be so naive. The event has already provided additional justification in continuing to send rockets into Gaza. It has already become a reason to urge the UN that it is not in its best interest to recognize an independent Palestinian state. And it only reinforces the security threat which prevents the drafting of a formal constitution for the state of Israel. I guess I’m contradicting myself now: all at once the explosion seems to have been “swept under the rug” domestically while being amped up for foreign sympathy and international patience.

For now, at least, life is back to normal with just a little more police presence on the streets. إن شاء الله that it was an isolated and not repeated occurrence.

While playing tour guide this week I’ve been extra conscious of my word choice or narrative when describing events, places, and people. I’ve become so hardened and brusk and demanding and it’s really refreshing to see this complicated land through someone else’s eyes which haven’t been focused on one particular agenda. It has made me a tourist again and makes me re-visit, both physically and mentally, some of the things which are at the central arguments regarding peace. Let’s not get too tongue tied in this mess of diplomacy, the issues at the heart of the conflict can be very simply phrased: Why is this wall here? What is the right of return? Why did the intifadas begin? Who controls the West Bank and Gaza? Why haven’t the peace negotiations worked? Etc…

Of course some of these are more easily answered than others but it has really been an eye-opening experience to break out of my academic and activist bubble and see the land anew. I can’t say that it has made me more hopeful about the future- this new found childlike curiosity has not changed the reality on the ground- but I guess it has given me a renewed hope. I’m reminded of the allure that has people fighting over this land in the first place when I see that new visitors can come and see Israel/Palestine not only for its political drama and occupation but also for its beauty, diversity, and history.

It is an aim of mine that we can try to represent a bit of every aspect of the region, the good and the bad, so that we can discuss the key issues at hand in simple and straight forward language. I know that my friend will leave Jerusalem with a new knowledge base and a new interest in the future of Israel/Palestine in general. It’s this kind of background, foundational knowledge that I hope to provide through Aware! so that we can find a common ground from which to discuss the future of both states.