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"Living so close to the atrocities and the injustice that is being practiced against the
Palestinians, it makes me feel that I don't have the right to be here if I am not doing
something to change it." Roni Ben-Efrat, a long-time Israeli activist for justice in her
country, restated her commitment in March of 1991, reminding me how little I understand
what is happening in Israel or the Occupied Territories. And yet, while we citizens of
the United States may not understand the factional political scene in Israel, we are
"doing something." Our government's involvement with the nations of the Middle East
affects people there in dramatic and severe ways.
Some may dismiss Voices from a 'Promised Land' as "too political" simply because it
presents conversations with people deeply invested in the political processes of Israel,
but that would be an easy and irresponsible gesture. This is a moving book of conversations
with people -people living in or near atrocities. And it's a dire situation, one so extreme
that it's still difficult to imagine. For example, when our newspapers or television
newscasters say that the Israeli government has "imposed curfews," what does that mean for
the families living in Gaza or the West Bank? When we hear talk of the "intifada" or
"Palestinian uprising," can we grasp the impact these phrases have on the people living
in a place under military occupation? When we hear about Israel "detaining" Palestinians,
can we understand what it is to be jailed without formal charge? And what are prison
conditions like? The accounts in this book -by those who live these things or work with
those who do - challenge our distance and ignorance.
Dalia Kerstein is an Israeli woman who volunteers with Women for Women Prisoners. Her
conversation with Penny Rosenwasser took place outside the Russian Compound, a jail for
Palestinian political prisoners. She tries to get information about the "detainees"
(Israeli officials don't call them prisoners) to their families. It is frightening work,
but she says she does it because "what's going on is so awful" (110) Ms. Kerstein relates
a story of a woman, Sarat, who was arrested and put in "the coffin," a tiny cell "where
you cannot stretch your legs because there's not enough room...so you have to sit with
folded legs." (112)
Sarat was in the coffin for 24 hours, then moved to isolation -she was not interrogated for
three days. What Sarat didn't know was that her husband, wanted for years by the Israelis,
had been killed in a clash the night before her arrest. She knew nothing of it, because he
no longer lived at home. What she also didn't know was that while she was in prison, her
house was destroyed by the Israelis. It is challenging to meet people, like Ms. Kerstein,
who risk their reputation and more (Ms. Kerstein says she is often slurred by being called
an "Arab-lover.") in order to change the injustice, to stop the atrocities.
It is the human effect of Israel's occupation of areas since the 1967 War -both on Israelis
as well as Palestinians- that is presented in this book. We meet women who have been
gathering on Fridays for years (since the beginning of the intifada) to stand in the
square in Jerusalem, dressed in black, to protest the occupation. They are called
horrible names for this quiet vigil. These Women in Black are a reminder of the tenacity
and simplicity of a longing for peace. We meet Tikva Honig Parnas, founder of Women for
Women Prisoners, who says that the Israeli government is growing more and more repressive
and terrorist. This former Israeli Army officer says the occupation "is rotting the society.
Inevitably, this society will become more and more fascist, more and more undemocratic.
" She says, "You can't keep an occupation without illegal and terrorist measures of
repression crossing the borders into our own society" (137).
Dahlia Kerstein says that occupation is "killing both societies." Palestinians' basic human
rights are being violated, but Israeli society is also suffering. "All the systems are
collapsing," she says. "The laws are not laws any more. The level of violence is growing,
the level of hatred is growing tremendously. Beating little kids." And this was before the
Gulf War which only shattered sympathies, almost snuffed out the Israeli peace movement,
and only increased the repression in the Occupied Territories. Total curfews resulted
in widespread arrests (3600 from the beginning of the Gulf War to the end of February,
according to The Israeli Center for Human Rights in the Occupied Territories), economic
paralysis (the Center estimates that the 304,000 Palestinian workers employed in Israel
lost $130 million), and painful long-term economic losses both in agriculture and industry.
A year after the brief but intensely violent war, there is a surreal distance associated
with it. The human impact - the terror and profound uncertainty - came back to me by reading
the chapter, "Gulf War Chronicle." Because many of the conversations in this section were
with people profiled earlier, a feeling of intimacy created a sympathy that on-the-spot
interviews with Tel Aviv or Jerusalem residents could not match.
In the first part of Voices from a 'Promised Land,' we meet people who live surrounded
by extreme injustice. As I read the conversations, I begin to realize, more fully, the
double standard our government operated under during the Gulf War. As we railed against
Saddam Hussein for defying international law and the community of nations, we remained
silent about United Nations Security Council Resolution 242 of November 1967 and 338 of
October of 1973 (both included as Appendices). The resolutions are clear as it
emphasizes "the inadmissibility of the acquisition of territory by war," and they call
for the "withdrawal of Israeli armed forces from the territories occupied in the recent
conflict." It also calls upon all nations to recognize "the sovereignty, territorial
integrity and political independence of every State in the area and their right to live
in peace within secure and recognized boundaries free from threats or acts of force."
One of the feelings that dominates these conversations is that the idea of "security"
does not rely on brute force. The Gulf War proved one thing for certain: no matter what
all the major players in the Middle East do, the people -families of regular people- are
vulnerable. Security must rely on our ability to learn to live together without racism
and hatred. Peace, real peace, requires this commitment. Voices provides a profiles of
people who dare to cross arbitrary boundaries to encounter the "other" and see in that
person humanity.
In the end, this book is an invitation to draw a bit closer to the atrocities, not merely
for a sick peek into other people's suffering because Ms. Rosenwasser often poses the
question, "What can people in the United States do?" The consensus is amazing: appeal
to your leaders to pressure Israel to stop settlements and stop the occupation.
Read this book, then dare to do something that affirms and sides with the suffering,
both in Israel and Palestine.
© Edward A. Dougherty
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