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Go Tell Your People Our Story

Sadeek, our first three days’ tour guide, said it. Tony, the spice shop owner, said it with pleading eyes as he carefully sealed our bags of fragrant lavender. Ali, our guide through Old Jerusalem, said it as we sat in a circle listening to tales of his time as a political prisoner. “Go home and tell your people our story” was the resounding plea. I promised I would; so here is the story of Sadeek, Tony, Ali, and the thousands of other people who live, labor, and love in the land of Palestine, where I was privileged to visit for two weeks in October.

Their story begins thousands of years ago when the land which is now home to both the Israelis and the Palestinians was inhabited by an ancient people called the Canaanites, from whom the Palestinians are descended. The Israelites (named for Abraham’s son Jacob who was later called Israel), according to modern archaeological account, branched out of the indigenous Canaanite peoples. The roots of both people groups and their cultures run deep in the dry, rocky soil; and for centuries they coexisted in peace.

Israel-Palestine has been conquered and controlled by many tribal groups and armies throughout history. Beginning with the first exile in the 8th century BCE, the ancient Israelites experienced a long period of diaspora (dispersion), which resulted in resettlement of various groups all over the globe. The following account, from the booklet “Life under Occupation” by the Joint Advocacy Initiative, sums up the movement of the Jewish people to return to their homeland.

In the late 1800s, European society was becoming increasingly anti-Semitic, and some Jewish thinkers concluded that physically escaping this discrimination was the only way to prevent it. As a result, the idea of Zionism emerged. Essentially, Zionism is the desire to return to Mount Zion, a hill in Jerusalem which is an embodiment of the Jewish faith. However, the Zionist idea to establish a Jewish state in historic Palestine was only supported by a small minority of European Jews. During World War I this dream became feasible for the first time, when Britain achieved control over Palestine and warranted the creation of a Jewish state.

That action by the British government during World War I is known as the Balfour Declaration, which reads:

His Majesty’s government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine, or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country.

The British Mandate for Palestine, issued by the United Nations and made effective on 29 September 1923, established the “national home for the Jewish people” promised in the Balfour Declaration and made the U.K. the administering mandatory.

According to the Joint Advocacy Initiative, 167,000 Jewish settlers arrived in the homeland between 1882 and 1928 and another 250,000 between 1929 and 1939 (this time because of the Nazi Holocaust). In total, by the end of World War II, over half a million Jews had immigrated to the land, prompting “the uprising of the native Arab population which was being deprived of land and resources.”

In another summary from “Life under Occupation,” the Joint Advocacy Initiative explains the next few important dates and events:

Riots and violence had grown substantially by 1947, which caused the United Nations to propose a partition plan of the territories. More than half of this territory–56%–would go to the Jewish immigrants, who made up 30% of the population and owned less than 7% of the land. Despite this internationally accepted solution, the Zionists, who were superior in military power, began to forcibly remove hundreds of thousands of Palestinians from their lands. To this day this even is referred to as the Nakba (Arabic for “catastrophe”). By May 1948 the State of Israel was proclaimed on 78% of historic Palestine.

During its “Six Day War” in June 1967, Israel eventually occupied the West Bank, Gaza and East Jerusalem and thus all of historical Palestine. Since that time, more land has been confiscated for erecting illegal Israeli colonies (settlements), building the Apartheid Wall, and creating military zones in these lands. As a result, Palestinian communities are isolated from the outside world and from each other.

These are the historic facts, which Sadeek reduced to their essence in a single sentence: “They fucked us.”

The situation today in every way fits the definition under international law of apartheid, and it’s time for the world to begin calling it by its proper name. Many observers and scholars have said the situation is far worse than the apartheid that existed in South Africa. Palestinians are restricted to designated areas; must go through checkpoints to enter certain other areas (and depending on the mood of the guard on duty that day may or may not be granted entry); are not permitted to use Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv (the main airport for the region); must stay on their own side of the border wall, must keep large water tanks on their roofs because their electricity (hence pumps) is sporadically turned off by Israeli power companies; live under constant threat of having their lands and livelihoods confiscated and destroyed; and endure the indignity of having settlers rain down their garbage, dirt, stones, and sometimes raw sewage into their villages and market places.

These facts are not up for argument. I have seen and experienced them first hand. I went through some of those checkpoints. I saw the trash thrown by settlers into Palestinian areas. I walked along the dividing wall. I saw the armed Israeli soldiers everywhere we went. I heard instructions shouted over loud speakers. I saw the balloons holding surveillance cameras. I picked olives for Palestinian farmers because the Israeli soldiers would have prevented them from working their own land and then after a year have legal justification for confiscating that land because it had not been worked. I walked through a Palestinian refugee camp. I twice visited a Bedouin village under order of demolition and witnessed hundreds of advocates who slept on foam mats to support the villagers and stave off destruction. (And they’ve succeeded, for now.) Although as an American I am permitted to use Ben Gurion Airport, I dare not take anything into that airport which might suggest that I intend to visit Palestinian territory or leave with any mementos easily recognized as having come from Palestine. I received my shipment this week of items I mailed home because I’d have possibly been detained at Ben Gurion if they’d been found in my luggage.

The displacement of native Palestinians is the largest and longest-standing displacement of a population in the history of the world. Currently, 66% of Palestinian people live as displaced persons, divided into two categories: refugees and internally displaced persons (IDP). Refugees are those who escape or are driven to other countries; IDPs are those who remain in the land. The difference between the two groups is geographic only; there is no difference in human rights between the two. The one right Palestinians crave most deeply is the right to live in dignity; I heard those words from the lips of almost everyone I met.

Please allow me to introduce you to three of the people I met and share with you just a little bit of their stories.

Sadeek Khoury, as I mentioned before, was our guide for the first three days during our touring time. He took us, among other places, to the village of Iqrit, now only the rubble of what was once the home of 400 Palestinians who lived, loved, made babies, raised their young, cared for their old, and buried their dead high on a windy hilltop. That peaceful life ended in 1951 when  Israeli forces showed up and ordered everyone out of the  village; it was for only two weeks, they said, so that security measures could be implemented (“For security” is a phrase often used to justify actions by the Israeli government). As soon as the evacuation was complete, the village was bombed. Now all that remains are the church and the cemetery.

College students take shifts staying at the church round the clock so that former villagers and their descendants can continue to hold their life rituals in the ancestral sacred place. Down the long, rocky trail and over the barbed-wire fence is the ancient cemetery where new crypts have been added to the mausoleums as recently as 2017.

Sadeek is earnest as he lingers on the hilltop, choosing that place to spread the table for the lunch he and his wife had prepared, allowing his charges to soak up the essence of the place, making sure no one would leave without having established an indelible connection with the spirit of the past and the souls whose lives were represented there.

Ali Muhammad was our guide through the Old City of Jerusalem. His ancestors came from Chad, in Africa, and he lives in the Afro-Palestinian sector of Old Jerusalem. He walks slowly, using a cane for balance, and is a tough school master. Anyone caught in a private conversation or shopping the goods which surrounded us in the market would be brought back to class in a deep-voiced gentle reprimand.

Ali strolled us through the market, pointing out the various sites of historical interest, but for what he really wanted us to know, he took us to the privacy of his apartment. There, he told us of his 17 years as a political prisoner for participating in placing a bomb in 1968 when he was a young man. From his more mature perspective, he knows that “the work I’m doing now is more effective than placing bombs.” The work he’s doing now is informing and educating those of us who consistently hear only one side of the narrative regarding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict; and I have to agree, knowledge is far more effective than violence.

Other snippets from Ali include his assessment that the only solution to their problem is not a two-state solution, which he says would never work, but “one secular democratic state” which would extend equal rights to residents of all ethnicities and faiths. He also said the media in our country is bullshit, because they continue to tell only the one-sided Zionist narrative. He also gave us the Arabic word for “bullshit,” but I’m not sure of the spelling, and you’d really have to hear him pronounce it for full appreciation. He challenged us to speak to our representatives, since the continued apartheid is made possible primarily by aid from the United States and Russia. He encouraged us to keep up BDS (boycott, divestment, sanctions) of companies that promote and fund the oppressive regime. He said, “Your holy mission is not here. Go back to your country and tell what you have seen here.” The majority of settlers (colonists) are American Jews. Palestinian desires are simple: no more occupation and the ability to live their lives in peace and dignity. All Palestinian protests currently are peaceful, but Israeli responses are not. The army and the settlers continue to inflict violence and death on unarmed Palestinians.

Ali ended his talk with a humorous assessment of several of our recent presidents. He said President Clinton had a serious problem in the lower part of his body, President Bush (W) had a serious problem in the upper part of his body, and Donald Trump has problems “both up and down.” You may have guessed, DT is not at all popular in Palestine.

Professor Mazin Qumsiyeh, perhaps the clearest and most compelling speaker I heard, said 100,000 Palestinians have been killed and another 800,000 injured since the conflict began. He has been arrested more than a dozen times for petty offenses. He advocates non-violent resistance but emphasizes that there must be resistance and that no one can be neutral on a situation involving the rights of hundreds of thousands of human beings.

Mazin echoed Ali’s assessment that the only viable solution to the problems is a single democratic, secular state with equal rights for all. He went on to explain that colonization can never end in a two-state solution because colonizers can never recognize the rights of the colonized. To recognize those rights would cause their system (existence, power) to collapse.

He outlined three possible stable outcomes:

One, the colonizers can be kicked out and sent to Europe, as happened in Algeria.

Two, there can be genocide of the colonized population, as has been done in Australia and the United States.

Three, and most common, colonizers and colonized can live together in peace, as has happened in over 140 countries.

At the end of our almost ill-fated walk along the highway in search of the Bedouin village which we had visited once and had been invited to revisit, we sat on foam mats and listened to a former PLO member, also a political prisoner for ten years (and three days), who told us more about the horror of living under apartheid and who said he will forgo having children so that he can devote his entire life to the mission of ending his people’s oppression.

One of our bus tour guides nearly sputtered with anger and indignation as we passed one of the large red signs marking the divisions of the West Bank into three zones: Palestinian, Israeli, and both. The sign for Zone A, the Palestinian zone, warns Israelis that they are forbidden to enter because their lives would be in danger. Our guide said it’s one thing to forbid Israelis to enter but another altogether to warn them of danger, “as if we’re animals.” The assault on his people’s dignity cuts deep.

A man I met on our first visit to Khan al-Ahmar was there with other activists trying to stay the demolition. He is an Israeli citizen who lives in Tel Aviv but is passionately committed to justice and equality for Palestinians. He said about 65% of Israeli citizens favor equality; it’s the government and a minority of private citizens who keep up the oppression. No one in our group, including the leadership and the leaders of the Palestinian activist organizations, hates Jewish people or wants to give Palestinians freedom and justice by taking it away from Israelis. Everyone I met wants the same rights to be held by all who live in the “Holy Land.”

I met Palestinian farmers and looked into their eyes, eyes that beamed back love and gratitude, because our efforts will assist them in holding onto their ancestral lands awhile longer.

Everywhere I went I met beautiful children, playful and happy and loved in spite of their oppression and poverty. Arriving at Khan al-Ahmar, the Bedouin village, at dusk, our group was greeted by children riding donkeys and bicycles and playing happily in our meeting area; doing normal “kid things,” they could have been in any country anywhere in the world.

I’m not telling you things I read in a textbook or in U.S. media reports. I saw firsthand what oppression and apartheid look like. It’s uglier than anyone can imagine without seeing it; and it’s enabled largely by aid from the U.S. and Russia. Let that sink in, and remember it every time you vote.

I affirmed with my own senses that Arabs and Muslims are, as a group, not violent terrorists. Two Muslim women will flag down seven American and British women lost on a busy highway and guide them to their destination. Muslims and Arabs are warm, loving, well-educated (among the most well educated in the world), well-spoken, industrious people whose only wish is to live their lives in dignity and peace. They open their arms, open their homes, and spread their tables and ask only one thing in return: please go and tell your people our story.

This is what I know to be true: I know that a promise from God will never come with license to oppress another group of human beings. If claiming a promise necessitates harassing, demeaning, imprisoning, killing, surveilling, restricting free movement, interfering with the pursuit of livelihood, stealing ancestral lands, and demolishing ancient habitats, one of two things is true. Either the promise did not really come from God, or some human beings are manipulating their religion as a weapon to gain power and control–actions which are the polar opposite of anything I know about God.

Now it’s up to you to keep the story going. Please share the story with everyone you know. Share this article in every forum you possibly can. This is not anti-Semitism (Arabs are also Semites); it’s pro-justice. Justice for ALL.

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In the News

Don’t Be Fooled by False Narratives

Since long before human beings began to write or even to develop alphabets, they told stories, the earliest of which are recorded in the form of cave drawings. Later, around campfires, oral literature began to be created and transmitted; by the time the written language was ready to record stories for all time, there was already a body of oral literature waiting to be set to paper. Then came the printing press, and then came social media; so now, as things happen to us during the day, we’re already mentally composing our social media story to be sent out as soon as we have a free moment or as soon as the boss isn’t looking.

Story telling is as integral a part of being human as eating, sleeping, and the other necessities of survival. In fact, stories—or narratives—are themselves among the necessities of survival. In addition to fictional narratives in the form of novels, short stories, movies, and TV shows that entertain us and offer a few moments of escape into another world, narratives form the underpinnings of our belief systems and our relationships to our fellow humans. They connect us to our fellow humans and determine how we will relate to them. Every culture has its stories, shared by its members and passed from one generation to the next.

Most countries of the world have a story about children receiving gifts in the month of December; but the character who delivers the gifts, the type of gifts delivered, and the method of transportation for the gift giver vary widely from one culture to another. Our American Santa Claus, as we all know, is a jolly old white-bearded, red-suited guy who circles the globe in a single night, propelled through the sky by eight reindeer, and who goes down every single chimney in the world and leaves gifts for every child. Never mind that such a feat would actually take several years and a team of workers instead of a single night and one overweight guy surviving on cookies, this story has fascinated children for hundreds of years and underlies some of the most cherished memories of all of our childhoods.

In Iceland, thirteen mischievous creatures known as the Yule Lads deliver the gifts. In Norway, Finland, and Sweden, the Tomte are small, gnomish creatures who may travel by sleigh, but the sleigh doesn’t fly; and instead of living at the North Pole, they are said to live in the woods surrounding people’s houses. In Italy, the Befana is a witch-like character who also flies around the world but on a broomstick instead of a sleigh; legend has it that she is a kind character who provided food and shelter to the three wise men on their journey to visit the Baby Jesus. Name the location, and there is yet another legend, and all form part of the fabric of the shared experiences of that culture.

Stories are an important part of our human efforts to explain and make sense of the world we live in. Creation stories attempt to answer questions about how the world came to be and how we came to live here. Stories of gods and goddesses who are always raising a ruckus, engaging in plenty of shenanigans, and acting out their petty disagreements offer primitive explanations of things such as weather, human emotions, and other natural phenomena. Biblical writers used stories to explain and illustrate human relationships and try to steer us toward right relationships with ourselves and others. Family stories unite members and give us a sense of identity and pride in those whose DNA we share and carry on.

In June of this year, a movie was released—The Free State of Jones—about a Civil War story involving my great great grandfather Jasper Collins. He has always been a legend in my family, and now his story—and the story of his comrades—has been told to the whole world. Through reading the book and seeing the movie, I have learned even more about Jasper than I learned from my family; and I have an increased sense of pride in knowing that I am descended from such a great man.

Because stories are such an enormous part of our personal, family, and cultural identity, they’re not easily changed or let go. The Santa Claus story never made a lot of sense; there were always doubts and questions, especially among those of us who didn’t have chimneys. Yet we rationalized and dreamed and held onto that story, even when we began hearing whispers among our classmates at school that Santa was not real. Angrily, we dug in our heels and declared “I believe!” as the evidence continued to mount and the pressure to let go escalated. But if we let go of Santa, what else might we have to let go of? Would the Bunny be next to get the axe? Or what if it was something even more serious? What other parts of our shared lore might also be false?

This is my second post about stories, or narratives, because they are such an integral part of who we are and what we believe. Even though stories are not always factual, they are always part of our truth. Santa Claus, a magical sleigh, eight flying reindeer, and a large toy manufacturer at the North Pole are not facts; but in our childish minds, they were the most sacred truth. And our belief in those things was enough to induce us to be on our best behavior throughout the year so as to avoid ending up on the “naughty list” come Christmas time. Our belief steered our behavior.

What other narratives drive our behavior? What other narratives, not backed by fact, but believed as truth in the deepest parts of our beings, cause us to treat others in inhumane, immoral, and unethical ways? And how do those narratives then justify the wrong we’ve committed?

Throughout history, whenever one people group have wanted to exploit or persecute another, they’ve first had to give themselves permission to do so by creating a narrative that justifies the abuse. Hitler could not have carried out his agenda to create a perfect blonde-haired, blue-eyed Aryan race without attempting to eliminate or weaken the parts of the human race that didn’t fit his plan; and eliminating those unwanted humans required a narrative to justify the action. A passage from his well-known book Mein Kampf, which makes frequent references to the “filthy Jew,”  is quoted on The History Learning Site:

The Jewish youth lies in wait for hours on end . . . spying on the unsuspicious German girl he plans to seduce . . . He wants to contaminate her blood and remove her from the bosom of her own people. The Jew hates the white race and wants to lower its cultural level so that the Jews might dominate. Was there any form of filth or crime . . . without at least one Jew involved in it. If you cut even cautiously into such a sore, you find like a maggot in a rotting body, often dazzled by the sudden light – a Jew.

If that’s the narrative embedded in one’s mind as truth, one could kill a Jewish person as easily as squash a cockroach and feel as little guilt. In fact, the person who killed a Jew could feel he had done the world a great service by ridding it of such a menace. For over half a century, people have wondered how on earth Hitler persuaded so many people to go along with his diabolical plans. He created a persuasive story.

A Reuters/Ipsos poll shows the results of white Americans surveyed on the questions of whether African Americans are equal to whites in their intelligence, work ethic, manners, violence, and lawfulness. The poll rated four groups, divided by the presidential candidate they were supporting during this year’s primary: Clinton, Trump, Cruz, and Kasich. On the matter of intelligence, an average of 22.5% of respondents saw blacks as less intelligent than whites. On work ethic, an average of 26.8% saw blacks as lazier than whites. When asked about manners, an average of 31.1% said blacks are ruder than whites. An average of 32.8% said blacks are more violent, and 33.2% saw blacks as more criminal than whites.

Once again, if this narrative is someone’s “truth,” it’s pretty easy to figure out why whites see people of color as inferior and why police officers might be quicker to pull the trigger on a black person than a white person with all other circumstances being equal. It’s easy to see why some women walk a little faster and avoid eye contact when approached by a black male.

And the narrative works from both sides. One memorable experience of my life happened when I was a 17-year-old newly licensed driver, eagerly volunteering for any errand that involved my getting behind the wheel of the car. My family was visiting my Alabama relatives, and my aunt had a woman who happened to be black doing some light housework for her. The woman needed a ride home, so I drove her. As I slid into the driver’s seat, I glanced over expecting to see her in the passenger’s seat. When she wasn’t there, I looked around to see why she wasn’t in the car yet; and I discovered that she was in the car: in the back seat. I felt so strange, I asked, “Why don’t you come up here?” This thought had obviously never occurred to her, as she replied, “Oh, no! I couldn’t.” I insisted that she could, but there was no persuading her.

That experience lingers in my memory after all these years because I can’t help thinking of the narrative written into that woman’s heart and mind. Her narrative had taught her the truth that she was unworthy to take a position equal to a white person—even when that white person was a 17-year-old girl. What I wish I could say to that woman now is “You are worthy. You have lived. You have been a good, honest person. You do not need to take a back seat to anyone. My 17-year-old self should be learning from you.” Sadly, that is a narrative I feel sure the woman never heard.

The narratives about women, of course, are too numerous to list: they’re the weaker sex, their main goal in life is to get married and have children, they’re suited only for certain types of jobs, they need men to protect them, they want to be complimented more for their beauty than for their brains, they’re not as smart as men—just a small sampling but enough to make it clear why we’re just now seriously considering electing a woman as president.

Cultural narratives also play a huge part in our inability to reduce gun violence. Many gun owners have accepted as truth the NRA narrative that the government is hostile and that their personal stock of weapons is their only defense against police and other law enforcement officials. In spite of the fact that NO president or presidential candidate has ever threatened to confiscate all guns from private citizens, the narrative continues to be told as truth: Obama/Clinton/whoever is coming to get your guns and repeal the Second Amendment. And once again, if the narrative is your truth, you’re going to resist any attempt at placing even the most sensible restrictions on gun ownership.

The history of conflict in the Middle East is long and complex, and telling the whole story would require volumes; it would also require a different story teller, since I don’t claim to understand it all. So for the purpose of this brief article, I just want to look at the effects of narratives on how the rest of the world responds to the violence and turmoil. Those who accept the Zionist narrative that the Jews are simply returning to their homeland to claim God’s promised inheritance interpret any resistance or act of self-defense on the part of the Palestinians as aggression. The Jews who build settlements in Palestinian territory are claiming what is rightfully theirs, and if the Palestinians don’t want to get hurt, they should be a little more cooperative.

But that’s not the only narrative. The other story says that in 1947, the United Nations adopted a Partition Plan, to take effect in 1948, which would create two independent states: Palestine and Israel. Those who accept this narrative as their truth see the continuing conflict as Jewish violation of international law and the building of settlements in land awarded to Palestine as illegal and immoral. In this story, the Jews become the perpetrators rather than the victims, and their offenses against Palestinian human rights amount to apartheid.

Stories drive actions and attitudes. Increasingly, reciting facts to people is futile, since their stories are their truth; and any fact which doesn’t match that truth is obviously incorrect in their minds.

Since our narratives are much of what bind us together with our families, our communities, our tribes, they’re not easy to change or let go of. Many people know what it means to be ostracized from family and community because they’ve adopted a different belief system from the one sanctioned by the tribe. Our narratives are part of our world views, the belief systems that have made sense out of chaos and confusion, that have given us a sense of safety and security in an unstable and frightening world. They’ve been the anchor that’s kept us from going adrift. They’ve given us a sense of belonging, a feeling of being right, a feeling of being good and virtuous. They’ve even influenced our relationship to God. It’s understandable that we’re reluctant to make changes.

But change is necessary; if we’re to survive, the stories must be rewritten. My story is what I will pass on to my children and grandchildren, and it will affect what they pass on to their children and grandchildren. I have to get it right, even when it means making sacrifices and stepping out of my safe territory. Wrong narratives perpetuate injustice. Denouncing and working to eliminate injustice is a human responsibility, and it begins with changing the narratives. Our stories will be told for generations to come. Someone has to be the change.