Palestine, Israel, And What's Happening Now
Dear Readers,
I know I have not written in a long time.
Today, I am going to talk about Palestine and Israel. I know this newsletter will anger some of you, but I hope you will read on nonetheless.
This edition will provide some background. In a forthcoming edition, I will talk about the current case — South Africa v. Israel — in front of the International Court of Justice.
Many who know me are aware that I spent a number of years working alongside university students from the Middle East and North Africa who came to the U.S. every summer to develop and collaborate on social and entrepreneurial projects. Through that program, I met people from Gaza, the Occupied West Bank, Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Yemen, Libya, and numerous other countries in the region.
Additionally, I traveled to the Occupied West Bank and Israel for nearly three weeks in 2013 — one week by myself and the others with a group of librarians and archivists (my former profession).
It is from these experiences, along with over ten years of bearing witness, studying, listening, and learning that I write. If you know me and you are not aware of these experiences, then I have fallen down on the promises I made to my many teachers and will endeavor to speak about it more often from now on.
As I sit to write, I note the anxiety I feel about writing this collection of thoughts, even as I know I must write. The anxiety comes not from fear of reprisal or lack of moral clarity —I stand firm in my knowledge and beliefs — but from my struggle to find the right words to express the gravity of what is currently happening, the enormity of what has happened in the last 100+ years, the urgency I feel to educate and compel others to action, and the love I feel for the beloved community agitating, disrupting, struggling for breath, for life, for liberation, for something more and better. Where to even begin?
I also need to be clear here – I critique the State and policies of Israel. I take an anti-Zionist view based on my own extensive research and on what I saw while in the Occupied West Bank and Israel. As Avi Shlaim, an Iraqi-Jewish scholar, explained, “anti-semitism is a hatred of Jews because they are Jews. Anti-Zionism is the opposition either to the Zionist ideology, the official ideology of the State of Israel, or more commonly it is criticism of specific policies of the Israeli government, particularly policies toward Palestinians, policies of occupation.”
I speak and think about the issues I discuss in this piece because of how devastating anti-Semitism is and has been to Jewish people all over the world, including my own ancestors. However, critiques of Israeli policies, particularly around genocide, apartheid, and occupation are not anti-Semitic and should not be conflated with anti-Semitism in efforts to stifle valid and necessary political and human rights critiques of the State of Israel. I truly fear that such a definition and suppression of speech endangers us all, and particularly Jewish people.
In October 2012, I attended the New York session of the Russell Tribunal on Palestine. I listened to numerous scholars, lawyers, public health officials, and activists — some of the smartest people thinking and writing about Palestine in the world — speak over two days, outlining compelling but complicated issues regarding Israel’s violations of international law, U.S. complicity in those violations, lack of United Nations action, etc.
I, being neither a lawyer or a historian, struggled to comprehend and hold simultaneously the complexity of the legalities and the simplicity of the violence and injustice that was occurring. What I did not struggle to understand was that I had not learned any of this from my typical media sources at the time, and I was sure that was the case of others I knew, as well.
In early 2013, when I told some people in my life that I planned to go to the Occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem to meet with Palestinian librarians and archivists, they responded with either fear — be careful, “they” are dangerous — or disgust — why would you want to spend time with terrorists? In both cases, they were referring to Palestinians — all Palestinians.
At that time, I am now embarrassed to admit that I was surprised by this reaction from some very smart people who read the news and paid attention to world events. I did not understand how people I consider kind and thoughtful could hold such bigoted views of an entire people. As I have grown and learned, I better understand how many of us are enculturated to believe the very same stereotypes that those in my life had parroted back to me.
Because of that enculturation, when I went to Israel and Palestine, I expected, as Ta-Nehisi Coates said recently at PalFest’s But We Must Speak (if you haven’t watched this, please do!), to have to look for the inequities and the points of contention between Jewish Israelis and Palestinians. I thought I would have to really dig in and interrogate in order to understand this “conflict” that had been described to me as “complex” and “complicated” by so many over the years. I had been told, or at least had tacitly known that I should not speak about “what’s happening in Israel” unless I was some kind of an expert, having studied the situation for many years.
However, as Ta-Nehisi Coates similarly described, when I arrived in Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion Airport and walked outside, my body understood before my mind did that I would not have to really look closely to see what’s happening. My first clear memory of stepping on to the soil of Israel -Palestine was seeing teenagers in green uniforms with the biggest guns I had ever seen. Anxiety thrummed through my body for the next three weeks, and it was never caused by or because of Palestinians.
Within Israel, I visited Haifa, Jaffa, Tel Aviv, and Lydd, and I also visited the Palestinian cities Jatt, Tira, and Nazareth. In the Occupied West Bank, I spent time in Ramallah, Nablus and Balata Refugee Camp, Birzeit, Al-Bireh, Hebron or al-Khalil, Bethlehem and Aida Refugee Camp, and Nabi Saleh. I also visited East Jerusalem, specifically the Silwan neighborhood. In each place, either myself or the group I was with spent time with people who lived there and knew about the history and current events of the place.
Everywhere I visited, in Israel, Jerusalem, the Occupied West Bank, was scarred with the wounds of occupation and ethnic cleansing.1 It was not hidden at all, but clear as day:
The wall, and the sniper and guard towers along the wall2 ;
The destroyed villages still visible beneath and around Jewish Israeli settlements and communities3 ;
The checkpoints4 ;
The “refugee camps” that are small cities5 because the UN promise for the right to return has yet to be recognized by Israel6;
The walls and homes pockmarked with holes from bullets, grenades, and other weapons of war;
The teargas and skunk water that permeate the air and made eyes water;
The different license plates depending on the ethnicity of the owner7;
The fact that Palestinians in the Occupied West Bank and Gaza are tried in military courts, while Israeli Jews are tried in civil courts8 ;
The heavily armed American settlers,9 including from Brooklyn as were the ones who threatened our lives because we were with a Palestinian, and the Israeli soldiers who walked away indicating whatever happened was okay with them; and,
The American settler who called Palestinians “Palesauruses” because “they will become extinct,” all said with a distinct New York accent.
This is to name but a few of the indicators that this place is not as complicated or hard to understand as I was told. It is apartheid.10 It is occupation.11 It is ethnic cleansing.12
When I returned home, I began to consume the news differently, recognizing the strong bias pervading our mainstream media, our classrooms, our political spaces, and, frankly, our living rooms. I am well aware that many feel otherwise, and have told me often that I am not seeing “both sides,” however, the realization I had — and I am ashamed to say it took me actually sitting in community with Palestinians, as well as people from Syria, Lebanon, and Jordan, to realize this — was that I had only ever been taught one “side” of the story, and that was the Jewish Israeli “side.” I had fallen into the pit Chimamande Ngozi Adichie warned us of — the danger of a single story. The story that starts with “secondly.”13
This is still happening now, ten years later. I think it is really important we bear this in mind and engage critically as the drum beat of war beats again in the U.S. and other Western nations.
Next edition, I discuss the application currently in front of the International Court of Justice.
Below are some of my journal entries from my travels as I sought to process and understand what I was seeing.
Finally, a very dear friend of mine is from Gaza; he now lives abroad. He is raising money to help his family who still reside in Gaza and who have lost everything. If you are willing and able, please donate here: https://www.gofundme.com/f/cgaxd-help-my-family-in-gaza.
Thank you!
Journal Entry — June 21, 2013
When we returned home, [my friend] had to go to university so his brother gave me a tour. He drove me to the wall between Israel and the West Bank. It is giant and it runs from the tip of Israel to the end of the West Bank. I would say it is 30 feet high, though I am terrible with spatial things, with barbed wire on the top. There is a patrol road used by the army just on the inside. No traffic is allowed there except army. Then he took me to see a former Arab village that was destroyed (some rubble still visible) and is now settled by Jewish Israelis. It is a gated village and Arabs cannot purchase land in it. What I learned is that in Haifa, there are Arab parts and Jewish parts with only some areas mixed. Outside Haifa, the cities are [either] totally Jewish or totally Arab. The primary school I visited this morning is Arab only. The difference is quite evident. [My friend] also explained that there is a road built down the center of Israel, route 6, that separates Arab cities from Jewish towns. According to him, this policy was instituted to keep Palestinian cities within a limited area to control population growth.
Journal Entry - June 23, 2013
[Two noted Palestinian historians and archivists] told us some history relating to Palestinian libraries and archives. We learned about some of the politics of East Jerusalem, including that though Arab Jerusalemites make up a huge portion of the population, they only receive 8% of the town's budget, which means roads are not fixed, and schools cannot accommodate all the Palestinian children. 19,000 kids are left without schooling opportunities because their parents cannot afford private school and they cannot attend Israeli schools. Along with these statistics, [the scholar] talked to us about the Palestinian challenges of maintaining cultural memory. In 1948, many Palestinian archives were raided. And, because many Palestinian families are ancient families, like Salahaddin ancient - living in homes that have passed through many, many generations, they had their family archives kept in special rooms within their house. When they were forcefully evicted, or even temporarily removed, the houses were raided and many of these archives were either lost altogether, or sent to Israeli institutions. While we could say that at least some materials were sent to Israel and not destroyed, the problem is that many Palestinians are not allowed to enter Israel or the Israeli buildings in which the materials are held. The materials may still exist, but the people to whom they are most meaningful cannot access them. More of the same occurred in the 1967 Intifada. But, it has not stopped. Just recently, like in the last 2 years, Al Aqsa archives and the Orient House Library and Archives have been confiscated by the Israelis. Some materials are locked inside, inaccessible, in horrible conditions. No air conditioning or temperature control, which ensures certain death [for the materials inside]. Other pieces, like photographs and old newspapers were either destroyed or taken to Israeli institutions. The cease and desist letter sits right on the front door of the Orient House still.
Journal Entry - June 25, 2013
Three days into the delegation and I am still without words. Everywhere we go this beautiful land is scarred with the evidence of occupation, suffocation, and violence. The rolling hills are pocked with crags and decorated with olive trees. Those hills, the bright blue sky, the proudly waving Palestinian flags seem dwarfed by the Wall, the settlements, the Israeli flags, the checkpoints, the army vehicles, the weaponry, the cameras. For me, this is hard to reconcile, to articulate despite the immense amount of reading and research I have done, personal stories I have heard, and documentaries I have watched. The actual gut feelings these sights elicit are so far inexpressible. The beauty and the horror. The idyllic and the obscene. The pride and the greed. The power and the resistance. Everywhere a contradiction. Even - especially - the fields and the trees are under siege, fighting for their very existence. The images I see while we travel sometimes distract me from the actual meetings because I must work so hard to understand what it is I have just witnessed before even hearing from the people themselves. But when the conversations start, I hear the human version of the stories the land told me as we drove. The stories are complex, nuanced, powerful, inspiring, and distressing. I think I need to wait to unpack the actual conversations we had at Birzeit University and Al Bireh Public Library because I cannot keep my eyes open. I must sleep. I have not slept more than 3 hours at a time since arriving five days ago except for night #2. Writing the emails home each night are my only processing time, and even there I find myself spitting out facts instead of talking about my experience. Hopefully we will get a little more rest soon or my head might explode with information, ideas, images, and gratitude - none of which I've had the words to write about. Perhaps tomorrow the words will flow. Salam.”
Journal Entry - June 26, 2013
We left Ramallah early this morning and passed through Kalandia checkpoint to visit Tel Aviv. The traffic at the checkpoint is amazing. People stand in long lines waiting to walk through and catch the bus on the other side to get to work, visit friends or the doctor, or whatever else. People are asked to step out of their cars and to have the whole thing pulled apart. We had soldiers board our bus and check each of our visas. They carry very large machine guns. It is definitely unsettling and wholly impractical. Just to the side of checkpoint is Kalandia refugee camp. Similar to Balata, it is a ton of taller buildings sitting on top of each other. People trying to make ends meet sell various things to the people waiting at the checkpoint. And graffiti decorates the giant, forbidding wall that aggressively escorts the traffic through the checkpoint. In the presence of the wall, there is no doubt about occupation and violence. The wall itself feels violent with its imposing stature and relentless reminder that freedom does not exist in this place. In defiance, Palestinians spray paint [on the wall] messages of resistance, hope, and liberation.
If you need some help visualizing this, or just need some more data/information, the Israeli human rights organization, B’Tselem, has an incredible visual resource: Conquer and Divide. Take a look.
Visualize Palestine has some incredible tools in general, but also around the wall. You can also check out the AP’s photo array of the wall, as well as Al Jazeera’s photos.
For a visual example, check out Ahmad Al-Bazz’s piece in +972 Magazine, “In photos: Returning to Palestine’s depopulated villages” (May 15, 2022), or Zochrot’s Nakba Map. Walid Khalidi’s seminal book documented these villages and towns in All That Remains: The Palestinian Villages Occupied and Depopulated by Israel in 1948.
A Middle East Eye video report gives some sense of what checkpoints are like for Palestinian school children. Al Jazeera has an incredible photographic piece on checkpoints that is well worth your time. In my own experience, cameras are not allowed inside the checkpoints. I was not allowed to have a camera up to the window when passing through a checkpoint, as I was told by a heavily armed Israeli guard. From what I could see from the window, Al Jazeera captures the scenes well.
The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs put out a report on the lack of freedom of movement of Palestinians in the Occupied West Bank in August 2023. B’Tselem provides an extensive list of the military checkpoints.
AJ+ has a great video of Balata Refugee Camp outside Nablus, which is the most populace in the Occupied West Bank. This is what I saw and heard when there.
For the many visible and non-visible apartheid laws, such as the different license plates and different licences depending on the ethnicity of the person, take a look at Adalah’s “Discriminatory Laws Database.”
As B’Tselem, the Israeli human rights organization explains:
Israeli military courts have been trying Palestinians in the Territories since the occupation began. While the courts offer an illusion of proper judicial conduct, they mask one of the most injurious apparatuses of the occupation. In these courts, the judges and prosecutors are always Israeli soldiers in uniform. The Palestinians are always either suspects or defendants, and are almost always convicted for violating orders issued by the occupation regime. As such, these courts simply cannot be an impartial, neutral arbitrator. They are firmly entrenched on the Israeli side of the power imbalance, and serve as one of the central systems maintaining its control over the Palestinian people.
For more on this, please check out B’Tselem and Adameer, but also the following resources:
Chris McGreal, “How American citizens are leading rise of ‘settler violence’ on Palestinian lands,” The Guardian (Dec. 15, 2023). Even the conservative The Times of Israel notes this. For example, Judah Ari Gross, “In 2021, American immigrants again moved to settlements far more than other arrivals,” The Times of Israel.
Amnesty International defines apartheid as:
a violation of public international law, a grave violation of internationally protected human rights, and a crime against humanity under international criminal law.
. . .
The crime against humanity of apartheid under the Apartheid Convention, the Rome Statute and customary international law is committed when any inhuman or inhumane act (essentially a serious human rights violation) is perpetrated in the context of an institutionalised regime of systematic oppression and domination by one racial group over another, with the intention to maintain that system.
In 2021, Human Rights Watch also drafted a report entitled “A Threshold Crossed: Israeli Authorities and the Crimes of Apartheid and Persecution”.
Additionally, Israeli human rights organization, B’Tselem released its report ““Not a ‘vibrant democracy’. This is apartheid.”
The Hague Convention of 1907, Regulations Article 42 states: “Territory is considered occupied when it is actually placed under the authority of the hostile army. The occupation extends only to the territory where such authority has been established and can be exercised.”
The International Committee of the Red Cross stated in 2012 that “Israel has exercised ‘actual authority’ 1 over the West Bank and the Gaza Strip for almost half a century, making its presence in these areas one of the longest sustained military occupations in modern history.” Peter Maurer, “Challenges to international humanitarian law: Israel’s occupation policy” (Winter 2012). These findings are in line with numerous other United Nations entities and NGOs. See, e.g., “Occupation, discrimination driving Israel-Palestine conflict, recurring violence,” United Nations Office of Human Rights (June 7, 2022); Amnesty International’s Israel’s Occupation: 50 Years of Dispossession (June 7, 2017); Celeste Kmiotek, “Israel claims it is no longer occupying the Gaza Strip. What does international law say?”, Atlantic Council (Oct. 31, 2023)
Ethnic cleansing “has not been recognized as an independent crime under international law, there is no precise definition of this concept or the exact acts to be qualified as ethnic cleansing[,]” however,
[a] United Nations Commission of Experts mandated to look into violations of international humanitarian law committed in the territory of the former Yugoslavia defined ethnic cleansing in its interim report S/25274 as "… rendering an area ethnically homogeneous by using force or intimidation to remove persons of given groups from the area." In its final report S/1994/674, the same Commission described ethnic cleansing as “… a purposeful policy designed by one ethnic or religious group to remove by violent and terror-inspiring means the civilian population of another ethnic or religious group from certain geographic areas.”
United Nations, Office of Genocide Prevention and the Responsibility to Protect.
For more on how this has and is occurring in Palestine:
The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine by Ilan Pappe (Note: Pappe has done extensive interviews and panels, so you can also find good YouTube videos and podcasts where he discusses his work)
“Explainer: Plan Dalet & The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine,” The Institute for Middle East Understanding (March 8, 2023) (more resources listed there, as well).
Five book suggestions by the Middle East Eye from May 11, 2023
From Mourid Barghouti’s, I Saw Ramallah
It is easy to blur the truth with a simple linguistic trick: start your story from "Secondly." Yes, this is what Rabin did. He simply neglected to speak of what happened first. Start your story with "Secondly," and the world will be turned upside-down. Start your story with "Secondly," and the arrows of the Red Indians are the original criminals and the guns of the white men are entirely the victims. It is enough to start with "Secondly," for the anger of the black man against the white to be barbarous. Start with "Secondly," and Gandhi becomes responsible for the tragedies of the British.