A voice from Jerusalem

A few weeks ago, I met Tomer, a 28-year-old Israeli parliamentary journalist living in Jerusalem, at a OneVoice event at Congregation Bet Haverim in Davis. Tomer was presenting alongside Bashar, a businessman who lives in the Palestinian city Hebron. I was really taken by their parallel pursuits for peace, which in part have been fueled by a nonprofit peace organization called OneVoice. Tomer and Bashar were in the United States as cultural ambassadors, in part to spread a message of peace and advocacy, and also, I think, to give us a real, human understanding of what it means to live in Israel and Palestine in 2011.

Tomer has been an active member of OneVoice since being recruited as a freshmen in college. I introduced myself to him and Bashar after the presentation, and within seconds we discovered that we had both studied abroad in Spain. Tomer was kind enough to answer some questions I had about his experience with OneVoice, and agreed to let me post these answers on my blog. Why? Well, there was something about hearing him and Bashar talk that ignited something in me I had long buried: a desire to understand just what happens in places like Jerusalem and Ramallah, and a feeling that maybe, someday, things could be different.

What is your personal approach toward organizing youth in Israel in a movement for peace? What campaigns (OneVoice or otherwise) have you seen that didn't really seem to have an impact in Israel, and what campaigns do you think really work?

TA: Most of my friends are indifferent. They became used to living in ongoing conflict. The only Campaign that works, I believe, is a positive one that shows the benefits of peace. Other methods that try to frighten people with worrisome data (e.g that in 20 years we will be the minority, and Israel will become totally isolated) don't work.


Tomer and Bashar at a OneVoice event at San Francisco State University
Photo Credit: OneVoice

What, if any, role should Americans or other non-Israelis/non-Palestinians play in promoting peace in the Middle East? What is the best way for us to educate ourselves?

TA: Creating "Pro-peace" initiatives are very helpful. We are inspired when we see people outside the region sympathize with us, not by taking sides, but by calling to our leaders to negotiate. Now we mainly see events full of hatred that urge others to boycott Israel among other things. That only fuels our extremists.

What kind of responses have you gotten in your travels to promote OneVoice? Were there any discussions or reactions that surprised you?

TA: We met mainly confused people that wanted to learn more. That was good because Bashar and I could approach them to show several points of view. We also met other peace activists - we strengthen each other. We conversed with many other activists that were surprised to see that we could get along.

What would your ideal Israel look like?

TA: We should have a Middle East Union. Ideally, Israel and its neighbors could bond and build economic, touristic and cultural bridges. Israel itself can gain a lot from peace. Our children would not have to spend 3 years in the army, and we could use the security budget to improve our education, infrastructure and so forth. Besides that, I believe that the conflict damages us and dulls our morals. Israel today, I believe, lives half of its potential.

What do you like to do in your free time?

Indoors, I love to write fiction and watch "How I Met Your Mother" with my friends. Outside I enjoy hiking, and riding my bicycles. I live just across the street from the Knesset and I walk to my work place. That is a dream come true.

Many thanks to Tomer for taking the time to answer my questions. I hope to interview a OneVoice ambassador from Palestine in the coming weeks. Who knows, maybe someday these ambassadors can lead a unified action toward peace in the Middle East.

Next year in Jerusalem - or Ramallah - or, even better, both.

One Voice - many questions

image from Huffington Post

A personal confession:

Sometime in the last ten years, amidst eight years of George W. Bush, natural and political disasters of all kinds, and my own selfish pursuits, I have pushed thoughts of Israel and Palestine to the far corners of my mind. It's a luxury, really, to live far enough away from Jerusalem or Ramallah to justify a lack of action or critical response to events happening on the other side of the globe.

Here's the thing about the Middle East, though: no matter who you are, no matter how you identify or what religious texts you read as child, there's something intensely personal about what these countries represent, and how their very being shapes the world. I was raised in an interfaith family but attended Jewish Sunday school for years, though I've never properly learned Hebrew (not for lack of opportunities; Spanish just caught my eye first). In many Jewish communities, my agnostic-at-best understanding of the world defies the religion's central tenet: that there is one god, and he/she/it is our god. I'm not even certain if I should capitalize the word.

I spent a summer in Israel in 2000, before Bush, before 9/11, before a lot of things happened. Those six weeks rewrote the way I saw the world, not so much in terms of the need for a Jewish state, but because for the first time, I saw the consequences of having one Jewish state that existed around and on top of a country that has never really been its own. I was torn between instincts. I loved and still love the idea of Israel, both because it was a haven for some of my relatives, and because the feeling of the place itself is magical, transformative. It is a place to love. All the same, it is hard to love a place so defined by contradictions, a place where Palestinian families end up to submitting to the rules and regulations of Israeli settlements. What boundaries are safe to cross? When will they be?

My feelings about Israel were further complicated as a freshman in college. The United States declared war on Iraq that year, and every weekend I'd attend huge peace rallies in downtown Santa Barbara. Every week the peace parades were interrupted by splinter pro-Palestine groups, not organizations as much as clumps of undergraduates clinging to a cause. I always felt a bit threatened, though at the end of the day, I had no more credentials to defend Israel than they had to attack it.

Last night I attended a presentation at Congregation Bet Haverim about the OneVoice Movement in Israel and Palestine. The organization was created in 2002, and its mission is to "amplify the voice of mainstream Israelis and Palestinians, empowering them to propel their elected representatives toward a two-state solution." Unlike other peace organizations in the Middle East, OneVoice has two parallel groups: one in Palestine and one in Israel. Both groups rely on a team of youth volunteers who devise creative campaigns and initiatives to involve community members.

The organization itself is impressive, but more than anything I was amazed by the presentations given by Bashar Shweiki and Tomer Avital. Shweiki is a Palestinian small business owner whose family business was co-opted by an Israeli settlement, and Avital is an Israeli journalist who seeks to mobilize his friends and neighbors in efforts toward peace. Both men are about my age, both were eloquent and compassionate, and were respectful of opposing opinions. I could tell that they were here because they wanted to be here, that they believed in the movement for peace because it is a vital and necessary part of their everyday lives.

Avital described a recent initiative he and his fellow OneVoice members employed in Israel: they created a series of "parking tickets" that they distributed on random cars that issued "fines" for apathy and failure to act. The tickets were cunning imitations of government-issue tickets. Listening to them speak, I felt a stirring I have not recognized in years: someone should issue me a ticket. There's something I should do. I don't know what it is yet, but maybe this is a step.

Maybe this right here - maybe this is the first step?