…. I don’t get how my own people can be doing this. Or rather, I do
get it. I am a Jew, by birth and upbringing, born six years after the
Holocaust ended, raised on the myth and hope of Israel. The myth goes
like this:
For two thousand years we wandered in exile, homeless and persecuted,
nearly destroyed utterly by the Nazis. But out of that suffering was
born one good thing — the homeland that we have come back to, our
own land at last, where we can be safe, and proud, and strong.
That’s a powerful story, a moving story. There’s only one problem
with it - it leaves the Palestinians out. It has to leave them out,
for if we were to admit that the homeland belonged to another people,
well, that spoils the story.
The result is a kind of psychic blind spot where the Palestinians are
concerned. If you are truly invested in Israel as the Jewish
homeland, the Jewish state, then you can’t let the Palestinians be
real to you. It’s like you can’t really focus on them. Golda Meir
said, The Palestinians, who are they? They don’t exist. We hear,
There is no partner for peace, There is no one to talk to.
And so Israel, a modern state with high standards of hygiene, a state
rooted in a religion that requires washing your hands before you eat
and regular, ritual baths, builds settlements that don’t bother to
construct sewage treatment plants. They just dump raw sewage onto the
Palestinian fields across the fence, somewhat like a spaceship
ejecting its wastes into the void. I am truly not making this up:
I’ve seen it, smelled it, and it’s a known though shameful fact. But
if the Palestinians aren’t really real - who are they? They don’t
exist! then the land they inhabit becomes a kind of void in the
psyche, and it isn’t really real, either. At times, in those border
villages, walking the fencelines of settlements, you feel like you
have slipped into a science fiction movie, where parallel universes
exist in the same space, but in different strands of reality, that
never touch.
When I was on the West Bank, during Israeli incursions the Israeli
military would often take over a Palestinian house to billet their
soldiers. Many times, they would simply lock the family who owned it
into one room, and keep them there, sometimes for hours, sometimes
for days - parents, grandparents, kids and all. I’ve sat with a
family, singing to the children while soldiers trashed their house,
and I’ve been detained by a group of soldiers playing cards in the
kitchen with a family locked in the other room. (I got out of that
one but that’s another story.)
Its a kind of uneasy feeling, having something locked away in a room
in your house that you can’t look at. Ever caught a mouse in a glue
trap? And you can’t bear to watch it suffer, so you leave the room
and close the door and don’t come back until it’s really, really dead.
Like a horrific fractal, the locked room repeats on different scales.
The Israelis have built a wall to lock away the West Bank. And Gaza
itself is one huge, locked room. Close the borders, keep food and
medical supplies and necessities from getting through, and perhaps
they will just quietly fade out of existence and stop spoiling our
story.
All we want is a return to calm, the Israeli ambassador says. All we
want is peace.
One way to get peace is to exterminate what threatens you. In fact,
that may be the prime directive of the last few thousand years.
But attempts to exterminate pests breed resistance, whether you’re
dealing with insects or bacteria or people. The more insecticides you
pour on a field, the more pests you have to deal with because
insecticides are always more potent at killing the beneficial bugs
than the pesky ones.
The harshness, the crackdowns, the border closings, the checkpoints,
the assassinations, the incursions, the building of settlements deep
into Palestinian territory, all the daily frustrations and
humiliations of occupation, have been breeding the conditions for
Hamas, or something like it, to thrive. If Israel truly wants peace,
there’s a more subtle, a more intelligent and more effective strategy
to pursue than simply trying to kill the enemy and anyone else who
happens to be in the vicinity.
It’s this: Instead of killing what threatens you, feed what you want
to grow. Consider in what conditions peace can thrive, and create
them, just as you would prepare the bed for the crops you want to
plant. Find those among your opponents who also want peace, and
support them. Make alliances. Offer your enemies incentives to
change, and reward your friends.
Of course, to follow such a strategy, you must actually see and know
your enemy. If they are nothing to you but cartoon characters of
terrorists, you will not be able to tell one from another, to discern
the religious fanatic from the guy muttering under his breath, “F-ing
Hammas, they closed the cinema again!”
And you must be willing to give something up. No one gets peace if
your basic bargaining position is, “I get everything I want, and you
eat my shit.” You might get a temporary victory, but it will never be
a peaceful one.
To know and see the enemy, you must let them into the story. They
must become real to you, nuanced, distinctive as individuals.
But when we let the Palestinians into the story, it changes. Oh, how
painfully it changes! For there is no way to tell a new story, one
that includes both peoples of the land, without starting like this:
In our yearning for a homeland, in our attempts as a threatened and
traumatized people to find safety and power, we have done a great
wrong to another people, and now we must atone.
Just try saying it. If you, like me, were raised on that other story,
just try this one out. Say it three times. It hurts, yes, but it
might also bring a great, liberating sense of relief with it.
And if you’re not Jewish, if you’re American, if you’re white, if
you’re German, if you’re a thousand other things, really, if you’re a
human being, there’s probably some version of that story that is true
for you.
Out of our own great need and fear and pain, we have often done great
harm, and we are called to atone. To atone is to be at one - to stop
drawing a circle that includes our tribe and excludes the other, and
start drawing a larger circle that takes everyone in.
How do we atone? Open your eyes. Look into the face of the enemy, and
see a human being, flawed, distinct, unique and precious. Stop
killing. Start talking. Compost the shit and the rot and feed the
olive trees.
Act. Cross the line….
Starhawk
Starhawk is now a panelist for a new website devoted to religion, run by Newsweek and the Washington Post. newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/starhawk/

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