Ok, here's another personal diary. Not that the others were not personal, but on this one, I want to delve deeper, and I'm not going to provide links, paste quotes, or provide my sources, I think I've done that enough in previous writings. This time, I want to go to the source for myself, for my beliefs, for where I have come from and why, and where it has taken me.
Quite often on Daily Kos, people ask me about my handle; why are you an Anti-Zionist Jew? What is it all about anyway, Anti-Zionism? And do we really need to know you are Jewish? Now this is sometimes asked politely; but usually, it comes in the form of a pretty hateful, ignorant, and desperate invective; I'm accused of selling out my people, of being a traitor of some sort, you know the usual knee-jerk support the tribe and stop thinking for yourself reaction. And then there is always the attempt to create some sort of mirror image that is amusing, like "Mahmoud the Anti-Palestine Palestinian" or whatnot. It really seems from these folks that Judaism, Israel, and Zionism are impossible to unravel, that they form an unbreakable, coherent and natural union. Well, I disagree.
I focus on Palestine/Israel because it is an important issue, for Democrats and Republicans, Israelis and Palestinians, Jews and Muslims, among many others. The fact is, that as a Jew I am bound to it through the actions of the state of Israel & its supporters for many reasons. First and foremost, the dispossession and oppression of Palestinians is done in my name by the state of Israel, which defines itself as a state not of its citizens, but of the Jewish people globally (it also reserved power and privilege for Jewish people around the world, but that is getting ahead of myself). It is also one that I am bound to as an American, as all Americans are, for all our tax dollars and diplomatic support goes to keep the occupation going. And most importantly, as a human being, I must speak out against this; there are plenty of things to speak out on, but this is the area I can have the most impact, and the one that I am, like it or not, impacting the most.
Like many other Jewish people, this issue has been something that I've grappled with for some time, and I'd be lying if I said there was no personal element to it; of course there is. I've been thinking a lot about my own personal journey regarding Israel & Judaism, and I would very much like to share this experience. Out of all of the emotions and feelings that I have dealt with regarding I/P, one of the most persistent is that of fear. It is fear that first shaped and dominated my Jewish identity and my perception of Israel, and it is that fear that I have come to reject as a healthy basis for anyone's identity, Jew or gentile alike. Fear underlies Zionism, and Anti-Zionism, for me, is a process of rejecting that fear.
Growing up in the suburbs of the USA, I started out not knowing any Palestinians, not knowing much at all about the current political issue or about the history of the area. But this of course, did not stop me from reacting to the mention of Jews & the state of Israel by others. My family was not teribbly religious, as most Jewish families I grew up around then were basically middle of the road reform Jews. We celebrated a few holidays, some went to Hebrew School & very few truly committed to eating Kosher; I mean with all of the fabulous other foods and cuisines full of cheese, pork, dairy and shellfish around us, really, who could be blamed. Its (almost) funny that most of the Jews I now disagree with are not that much more religious than myself; if I was an ardent Zionist, my degree of observance would matter little, if at all. But as soon as I speak out on Zionism and Israel, all of the sudden I am some sort of traitorous Jew, whose lack of observance is shameful. It becomes so predictable, I think I should start giving out prizes or something.
Although it did not occur to me for some time, being Jewish, being a Zionist, and supporting the state of Israel are all different things; there are religious Jews that are not Zionist, and there are Zionist Jews that are not religious, and many other permutations of course. Now here is where it gets interesting; even though I was not a practicing Jew in any religious sense, our family still identified itself as Jewish. This was was very confusing to me, particularly in Middle School, as my identity was being formed and developed. I felt like I was wearing the Jersey of the team, but not playing in the game. And it was confusing to explain to people; they would ask, what kind of name is your last name, and I'd reply, "Well, it's (insert any eastern European country you'd like), but I'm not that, my family is Jewish. " I remember one day in French class, this comment got me into a protracted argument with my teacher and some friends, one that left me eventually confused, angry and sad; I mean really, who the heck was I, who were we, and why was I going through all these convolutions? Why can't my identity be easy to figure out, like everyone else?
So, I would ask my parents, how do I make this claim to be Jewish, and why am I rejecting the country of my grandparents origin? If we don't practice in a full religious sense, then why are we still Jewish? And after much discussion, they would always reply that I we are Jewish because if Hitler were to 'come back' as such, I'd be just as dead as the religious Jews. I'm not sure to what extent they really thought it through, and I certainly did not, but by saying this, they had defined Jewishness for our family mainly through the discourse of fear; that being Jewish was basically a state of always looking around the corner for the next existential threat to come my way.
So fear was the name of the game. As a potential victim, which became, without me really understanding it, the core of my Jewishness, how does one actually 'do' things which are 'Jewish?' I mean, I tell you, I have very rarely come across outright anti-Semitism, and as a white male Jewish American, I have more privilege and power than I can imagine. And no matter what one says, if you identify with something, it must be acted upon, there must be some sort of external manifestation; just a few holidays a year simply doth not a Jew make. Like the dilemma of Jews since the Haskalah, the Jewish enlightenment of Europe in the 1800's the question becomes; if I 'assimilate' and become a French citizen or German or whatnot, in what way am I still a Jew? And what do I do when the same French and Germans that I am trying to 'be like' reject me with their crude racism and xenophobia? What the fuck do I do then, become a Bundist, a Zionist, or just move to America?
Like many other Jews, the choice was clear, even if I didn't realize I was making such a choice; reacting to the issue of I/P became the avenue for asserting myself as a Jew, however it was for some time based mostly on my personal feelings and identity, and for the most part, from fear, rather than any actual knowledge on the subject. But, at some point, I faced the fact that I knew nothing, and a knee-jerk reaction was not enough. I eventually realized that defining myself as a Jew, or anything for that matter, out of fear, was not the way I wanted to live, and it was blinding me to so much. The fear that had been imparted to me was in a sense an act of closing myself to the world, of seeing the world as essentially threatening and my own identity as that of an eternal potential victim. After much study, listening, and experience, I have come to prefer the opposite, that of a unity and acceptance with the world, and with humanity. But this change took some time.
Years ago, I was living in India. I was living in a city in the south of India, near a university that had some students from elsewhere in the world. One day, my friend Bill and I were getting some tea, and we started talking to a man on a scooter. I knew he wasn't Indian, and Bill asked him where he was from; he replied, with a large grin, "Palestine!" When he said this, I was instantly struck with fear. What does he mean? Where is Palestine, exactly? Does it exist? Seriously, my fear of this word and this person was blocking me to just asking and finding out. And this is crucial, for one can take his declaration to mean many things. He could be from the occupied territories, the West Bank, Gaza and East Jerusalem, but Palestine is also in Israel, as over 20% of the population is Palestinian (not Israeli Arab, that is a Zionist fiction meant to de-nationalize Palestinians that were not ethnically cleansed in the Nakba of 1948). Was he from Lyyd? Jaffa? Nazrat? Nablus? Yatta? Or maybe he was from a refugee camp in Lebanon, or Syria or Jordan? These places also have millions of Palestinians, still denied their right to return since 1948; it may not be Palestine per say, but Palestine is carried with each one of them (until the day they return, of course).
But I didn't ask any questions; Bill did, but my fear prevented me from saying anything. In fact, all I was thinking about was me and my potential victim status; will he know that I am a Jew? What will he think if he knows? Will he want to kill me? Seriously, I had learned one thing about this person, and here I am planning my escape route in case of a one-man pogrom in a sleepy town in South India! This is all the more interesting as just around that time myself and a few other American students had been chased out of our classrooms by Indian students with large lathi sticks due to a student strike; this of course did not lead me to any suspicion of Indians and any violent intent towards me, but this man's identity sent me into a tailspin. I look back on it now as such a strange moment, one I missed out on learning more about some one whose life I had no clue about, a time when I no understanding of occupation or the plight of Palestinian refugees; I basically had no clue about Palestine. Thankfully, that has changed.
I can remember another key moment in that change, one that brought out the fear in a friend. I was showing this person a book or two, one by Ilan Pappe, and the other by Benny Morris, his original work on the causes of the Palestinian refugee problem. He had laid out all of the evidence and data for the ethnic cleansing (Morris), but had evaded the conclusion that he eventually had to concede years later, that it was built into and necessary for Zionism to cleanse Palestine in order to make it a Jewish state (of course, his politics then took a sharp right to racist land; he says, yes we did it, and it was a good thing, and too bad we didn't do more of it! Seriously!). Anyway, as I debated all of this, in a matter of moments, the friend went from denial to evasion, to all of the sudden making the argument for me. As we discussed the blueprint for the expulsion, Plan Dalet, this person all of the sudden started to put the pieces together; if the Irgun worked with the Hagannah in what they did, then I can't blame the revisionist right wing for the sins of Zionism (much like folks these days tend to go overboard on Lieberman in order to absolve other Zionists for their racism). And if one looks at Plan Dalet, and how the wording is in military terms, one can then see how these military terms can be applied to the acts of ethnic cleansing, acts that undeniably happened, and that it wasn't just an aberration at Deir Yassin, it was a coordinated plan, one that strikes to the heart of Zionism. Before my eyes, a person that thought he believed in something honorable and good was coming to the realization of being had all along. That person all of the sudden became gripped with something unexpected; with fear. And not the fear of being a potential victim, but the fear of being the oppressor, the master, the bringer of violence and murder. In one moment the beautiful Israel of the imagination came crashing down and was face to face with the ugly truth of all acts of conquest and violence.
Now fast forward now to a few years ago. I am in Nablus, staying in Balata refugee camp and just endured a horrific week of Israeli siege in the city, but particularly on the refugee camp. It was basically a small scale Gaza and/or Sabra/Shatila. The camp was sealed off with boulders and sand, the streets had armored cars and bulldozers going down them, snipers occupied rooms and fired on unarmed civilians, and teams hunted 'wanted men,' killing 3 on the last day; in all at least 8 people were killed that week, but the entire community was traumatized yet again, from children to the elderly.
So after the siege was lifted, I headed to Nablus to use the Turkish bath there. it is an old structure, one that has charm and is a great way to relax and get clean, and is particular to Nablus, a city that derives its name from the Greek/Roman name Neopolis, aka, "New City." Of course, that was 2000 years ago, and now it isnt so new, and the destruction of the occupation is removing so much of the history of the place with the unending demolitions and bombings. But, for one afternoon, I need to relax, and that was my favorite place to do it.
After winding my way through the old city streets, I found the Turkish bath, said hello to the men working there, paid my fee, got undressed, and headed on in. The first stop is the rather small, but effective sauna room for a good sweat. I got in and noticed two other men there, both Palestinian and probably in their late teens/early twenties at best. I say hello & sit down & start the relaxing. Of course, for a moment I remember that now my tattoos are showing, which is something I try not to do in the streets and such, but what can I do, I can't wear a shirt in the sauna! After a bit they leave and so do I. Next there are some small stone stalls that have bowls and cups to rinse off in, and after that is the massage! Its done by this man who I was told was a former boxer; he is late middle aged, and very strong. Each massage has a different surprise; one time he splashes me with cold water, other times he seem sto use boxing moves on my back. Anyway, it works & I can't complain!
After all of this, I am getting dressed and preparing to smoke some Nargileh, and I run into the Palestinians I met in the sauna. We start talking, I tell them I am doing human rights work in Balatta and then he says that he was a bit worried when i first came in. I asked him why, and he says "I thought you were Israeli and were there to kidnapp me; I am with Hamas!"
I was floored; he thought that I was Israeli? There to kidnapp him? Really? Here, the paradigm is reversed; of course, I am perfectly comfortable in Palestine, as I have never had any problem being there as a Jew or an American for that matter. But here is this boy in Nablus, and he is afraid of me! Here he is, sitting in the sauna, and he sees me and is fearing for his life, and why not. Palestinians are kidnapped from their homes, killed in their neighborhoods, tortured and treated like garbage by Israeli soldiers. And he is with Hamas, which these days puts him at odds with both Israelis and his fellow Palestinians unfortunately. Of course, I am in a society where Hamas is the new 'evil,' where I can slander and fear any Islamic group or belief as modern day barbarians and pretty much get away with it. But here is a person that, as he says, is 'with Hamas,' and he's afraid of me! And what does it mean, to be 'with Hamas?' Maybe he just voted for them, maybe he does errands for them; hell, maybe he is their military wing mastermind and has 'blood on his hands,' as they say. But at that moment, he was just like the man I met in India; just a person, unique and flawed, and real; and he is living under an occupation that I benefit from, like it or not.
Being Anti-Zionist for me, is rejecting these barriers, this fear and these falsehoods that I was raised on. There is nothing to be gained from them, spiritually, politically, or morally. For as long as I can, in whatever way I can, I will speak out against it, I will seek out the other that 'my people' have created, I will try and find a way to help bring the refugee home and the occupied liberated. And I will not fear.
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Well, the reaction has been much that I expected in many ways. There are the usual calls that I am everything from 'black KKK' member to a Nazi to this or that hateful thing. Some say that I will always be a Jew no matter what silly thing I say do or write, and others have summarily and with great authority excommunicated me from the tribe.
But overall, I'm ok with it all, really. Even those of you that usually mock and deride every word that I say, some of you I did actually learn from with this diary, and its important I acknowledge that. After being chided for just pasting lots of stuff and not writing my own views, I have opened up and let you know a little more about myself, and I am happy that I did, really I am. There are so many of you to thank (this comment really left me speechless), so please know I appreciate your support.
I did want to address one thing, though and it has to do with the issue of finding joy in Judaism. As much as have dealt with the issue of fear, and as much as Judaism was many things to me growing up, joy was, and still is, a part of it. For example, I always loved Passover, hell, who didn't? To this day, I still love the taste of gefilte fish, eating the horseradish & charoses... and actually prefer the grape juice to the Manishevitz, thank you very much. And there are the relationships, of family mainly, some that are still around, some not; they are as much a part of the experience as anything else.
But of course, this for me is where an intersection of Judaism and Zionism does take place for me, and for example, with that holiday. I remember feeling, well, what can I say, righteous and all when recounting the stories of the slavery and Exodus, which of course was the point of them. We suffered, we rose up, overcame great odds and were rewarded... with a land that already had people on it, but never mind that for now....
Yet all of those years that I celebrated it, I overlooked one important fact; despite the suffering that is in my family's past and many others as well, I have never been a slave in Egypt. Indeed, the opposite is much more the case. As an American, and as a Jew, I am complicit, whether I like it or not, in horrible crimes against others, be they Palestinian, Muslim, Arab, Afghan, you name it; and I just can't go through the regular motions without acknowledging it. So when I do celebrate Passover, and I do almost every year, I don't just dip my fingers for the plagues brought on Egypt. I must also speak of and work to end the plagues being brought on Palestine as we speak; the plagues of occupation, of racism, of exile, of the refugee, of exclusion and murder. It fills me both with joy and with sadness, but I don't see how it could not.
That is what it is for me to try and live without fear and for change. Someone else noted that I sound like the fourth child who stands outside Judaism and speaks critically, and maybe that is the case; but isn't that what many of the prophets were all about? stepping outside and speaking the truth of what was happening? I make no grand pronouncements that I am a prophet at all, but as Chomsky said, the tradition of the prophets is alive, its just called dissidence now. And if so, then that is yet another aspect of Judaism that cherish and in which I find joy.
(adapted from this thread)