During the Balkans trip as a group, we spent a lot of time focusing on Palestinian and Israeli narrative. But what we didn’t spend much time talking about is the similarities in the two people’s values. Last semester I was reading a book called Cosmopolitanism, which focuses on ethics in a world of strangers and by Kwame Anthony Appiah, a philosophy professor at Princeton University. In his book he devoted a small portion about the Palestinian Israeli conflict. He explains in the section “Fighting for the Good,” sometimes when two communities have the same or similar values -instead of providing a middle ground of cooperation- it can provide the bases for conflict. It is always easy to point out the differences between two groups in conflict, in order to draw a line between you and them. People sometimes assume that the reason conflict begins is because of some type of disagreement or difference in values. But if you look at the line drawn, it could be the link between the two groups that can provide a basis of cooperation.

The line which I am talking about is the one created to separate Israeli capital of Jerusalem from Palestinian East Jerusalem. Today, the status of Jerusalem remains one of the core issues in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The United Nations, the European Union, and related bodies and Palestinian, who demand East Jerusalem as the capital of their future state, have repeatedly criticized Israel’s annexation of East Jerusalem.
“The fact that both Palestinians and Israelis-in particular-both observant Muslims and observant Jews- have a special relation to Jerusalem, the Temple Mount, has been a reliable source of trouble.” Jews relate back to the period of David the king of Israel and the building of the first temple, and Islam regards Jerusalem as its third holiest city. The conflict here does not derive from differences, but yet the opposite.

Both people have the same conception of the “good” and feel a religious and spiritual connection to Jerusalem. “Muhammad, in the first years of Islam, urged his followers to turn toward Jerusalem in prayer because he had learned the story of Jerusalem from the Jews who lived in Mecca.” Both Israelis and Palestinians care for Jerusalem so deeply. They want to protect this city, but unfortunately this fact has been overshadowed with conflict.

The meaning of Jerusalem in Hebrew is “Teaching of Peace” and for Muslims the name suggests “Peace” and corresponds closely to the Muslim concept of the sacred; a place where peace reigns and conflict is excluded. What is needed to help resolve the conflict is a substitution of nationalistic values and loyalty to one religious group for a more practical approach. By developing an understanding as a human community and developing habits of coexistence- living together in relative understanding and tolerance- we can achieve what the ancient city was intended for, peace.

- Shadi F. Karajeh

I have been struggling with something for a while, but unable to articulate it. With some distance since the last retreat, the struggle seems clearer. In discussions about Palestine/Israel, various voices run through my head. One belongs to the human rights, pro-Palestine narrative; the narrative that has alienated me from the Jewish community in which I grew up, the narrative that argues that despite complications in conflict, we must see them, to a certain extent, as simple. People are suffering, and this is not complicated. It simply has to be fought, to be stopped. I think this is the voice that people heard from me in group process most often.

The other voice, however, is the one that holds less anger towards Jews who cling to their need to protect Israel, who do not see the fullness of Israeli crimes or Palestinian suffering. This voice is an empathetic one, and sees these Jews’ love of Israel as part of a wound inherent in a community that has been oppressed in the past, and thus has made victimization a central element of its identity. This voice does not necessarily contradict the first, but it does ask for an acknowledgement of the Jewish story that the other voice does not. It clings more to the notion that this conflict is “complicated,” to the notion that Jews who do not acknowledge their privilege are not just “oppressors”, but people with stories they have been unable to escape, stories that have made them support terrible things. When I am thinking in this way, these people are not at fault in the same way; they are misled and mistaken for deep and painful reasons. Sometimes in group process I would notice this voice come to the forefront, urging me to explain, if not defend, the Jewish story.

But the first voice challenges the second, and tells me that I am the oppressor, that when I try to “complicate” things I am reinforcing my power, trying to feel less guilty, less responsible. So often, I do not let this second narrative speak. Because of this, when it does come out, I think some people are confused.

I am not sure how much to voice it. At the very least, it is part of me and if I am not being totally honest I am not doing good work. At the same time, I am not willing to let go of the idea that this voice comes in part from an education that wanted me to think Israel belonged to me and not to others, a voice I want always to challenge.

So, I am struggling to figure out when to speak each narrative, and when to be silent.

-Penina Eilberg-Schwartz

Group process reminded me of the limitations of conflict resolution. This program is appropriately labeled a conflict transformation project because there is no resolution. I realized that the “constructive engagement” of groups in conflict can be problematic when there is the assumption of equality in the group regarding relationships of power. Even in the controlled setting of the group process, the power imbalance of the outside world seeps into the group. In this case, the Palestinian participants seek a pledge of change from the Jewish students who are considered to be in a position of greater power, privilege and in some sense beneficiaries to the conflict. This dangerously perpetuates the imbalance of power by giving the dominate group in conflict the power of choice while forfeiting the agency of the oppressed. In turn, a situation is created where the future is left to be determined by the dominate group.

In looking at this engagement as a project in conflict transformation, the process doesn't stop. The constructive engagement is not at all looking for resolution, it is looking for transformation. We see the "other" as we choose to see, in some cases not what we want to see. At the very least, they are a tool in the project of engagement to understand our selves, the conflict, the others perspective and the perspective of our own communities better.

When I went to the movie ibn um with my family and saw that the movie provided a very superficial perspective of the conflict, one that was most likely supported by the Egyptian government with propaganda for the masses in Egypt, I realized the process of transformation in my own perspective of my own community. That is what this is all about.

-Joe Farsakh

Of late, I have been reading a good deal of Sara Roy. An important scholar at the Center for Middle Eastern Studies at Harvard, she has focused much of her work over the years on Gaza. She is also the child of Survivors and has written some very interesting pieces that grapple with Jewish identity and solidarity with Palestinian struggles for self-determination. As a direct inheritor of that horror, she picks apart what she calls “the filial link between Israel and the Holocaust” questioning a sense of history and rhetoric that narrates an inevitable and inherent trajectory from slaughter to the only possible “redemption” in a Jewish state. She asks if what “we” have created is “redemption” if it is a return to life, or more death. This is of course, not a new question.

What I find most compelling, however, is her vision of the necessary future of Jewish memory and Jewish history. Many have made the now, unfortunately tired, argument of the necessity of “seeing the other”—humanizing the enemy etc. All important ideas, but what Roy does with them is to literally say: from now on, when we create/think about Jewish community, when we remember Jewish memories, when we talk about and teach our Jewish history (‘when we are on our way and when we are at rest…’) it must include Palestinian voices. The Jewish seasons are not only made up of our holy days or secular days that mark historical events already deemed ‘Jewish,’ but Gaza 2008/9, Lebanon 1 and 2, the squalor of Jenin, stories of constant curfew in Nablus, Ramallah, Hebron, the Wall and Be’lin—heroic non-violent resistance. Jewish history does not merely include Israeli history (which has come to dominate Diaspora history), but history from the voices of those silenced. From now on Palestinian history is a part of Jewish history—which, in reality, it has always been…it must be this way.

She has some chilling quotes: (from “A Jewish Plea”)

“What happens to the other as we, a broken and weary people, continually abuse him, turning him into the enemy we now want and need, secure in a prophecy that is thankfully self- fulfilling? What happens to a people when renewal and injustice are rapturously joined?”

“Judaism has always prided itself on reflection, critical examination, and philosophical inquiry. The Talmudic mind examines a sentence, a word, in a multitude of ways, seeking all possible interpretations and searching constantly for the one left unsaid. Through such scrutiny it is believed comes the awareness needed to protect the innocent, prevent injury or harm, and be closer to God.
Now, these are abhorred, eviscerated from our ethical system. Rather the imperative is to see through eyes that are closed, unfettered by investigation. We conceal our guilt by remaining the abused, despite our power, creating situations where our victimization is assured and our innocence affirmed. We prefer this abyss to peace, which would hurl us unacceptably inward toward awareness and acknowledgment.”

“What then is the source of our redemption, our salvation? It lies ultimately in our willingness to acknowledge the other, the victims we have created -- Palestinian, Lebanese and also Jewish -- and the injustice we have perpetrated as a grieving people. Perhaps then we can pursue a more just solution in which we seek to be ordinary rather then absolute, where we finally come to understand that our only hope is not to die peacefully in our homes as one Zionist official put it long ago but to live peacefully in those homes.”

- Maia Brown

This post comes on the tails of two exciting events in which I participated this month.

Last week I returned from San Francisco, where I had the privilege of participating in a course on Facilitating Groups in Conflict with Ahmad, Posta, Aaron, and Huda. I chose to take this course because I thought it might give me a glimpse into professional and graduate work in conflict resolution; as always, it turned out to extend much further. I am happy to say that exceeded my expectations and renewed my commitment to work in this field.

Before the beginning of the class, I wondered about starting from scratch. Was I really willing to get to know another 10 or 12 people on such a deep level? Did I have the energy and drive to start exploring my identity and beliefs anew? At times doing this process was indeed frustrating, but this second round also turned out to be a blessing, as I was able to come in with a clean slate and to effectively begin group process from a different vantage point.

The makeup of this class was a quite different from our evenly divided VP 12. We were graduate and undergrad students, non-Americans and Americans, professionals in the field and those seeking initial exposure to conflict resolution. But there needed to be an "other" if we were to learn how group process worked; so Jews and non-Jews we became. Though we recognized from early on that it was a somewhat artificial separation, it served the purpose at hand and we explored a range of important topics, from real issues and solutions to loftier visions.

The first week was spent only in group process, without any discussion of methodology. Without revealing too much about what is agreed upon as a private and safe process, I will say that over this week I truly came to understand why we call this work Conflict Transformation. Watching students in group process for the first time, as they faced deep facets of their identities and challenged each other to keep working I was able to reflect on my own transformation since the summer; I have experienced enormous change with respect to my identity, values, politics, and also to how I approach the "other," both individually and collectively. When I say this I do not mean to report on how much "progress" I've made: in fact, I now realize more than ever how much more I have to learn and how many more hours of group process and training it will take for me to feel like a competent and contributing peer in this community.

The second week of the class was spent on methodology and peer facilitation. In just one 45 minute session as facilitator, I was able to see how challenging and rewarding this role is. An enormous amount of energy goes into what seems from the participant perspective to be minimal involvement: preparing for a session, actively listening at every moment, deciding when and how to interject, and also maintaining awareness of the larger dynamics at play all require the utmost sensitivity. I hope for more of these opportunities in the future.

On another note...

Late last night I traveled down to Wall Street to tape a segment on the Joey Reynolds Show (WOR AM 710), a nightly talk radio show on which my father is a frequent guest (nepotism at its finest and most useful!). Having been acquainted with Mr. Reynolds and his show before, I knew that it would be hard to wrangle him into a single conversation, but was committed (if not determined) to spend some time speaking about AV, Conflict Transformation, and issues relating to the Middle East. Friends at home and even on the Vision Program might be surprised to hear this, considering nine months ago I would have done anything not to talk about these issues at the dinner table, never mind with thousands of people listening (or at least with their radios on...).

Considering that this is a program that has a weekly "Jewish Hour," (according to a NY Times piece it is an "unfocused mishmash, with everyone talking at once." Typical.) I was quite sure a political debate would ensue as soon as the topic of Israel and Palestine came up. Instead, I was given (or gave myself) time and space to really explain why this work is so important, and found support when I mentioned how small the Palestinian voice in America is compared to that of Israelis/Jews. Though we covered many topics, I will relate just one in detail: at one point in the conversation another guest asked me "do you have hope?" Naturally, though hopefully not glibly, I said yes. I explained that as a young person I have the luxury of being hopeful, of remaining slightly naive and imagining a multitude of positive changes in the future. I added that I don't necessarily have the highest hopes for this generation-- the politicians, Palestinians and Israelis, American Jews and Palestinians -- we are already too deeply entrenched in our patterns and beliefs. But I am optimistic about future generations, and hope to remain so despite the deep frustrations I very often encounter.

Next month I want to talk about specific issues that have been on my mind -- privilege, class, and my place in the conflict. Until then!

-Ariana Barth