|
I live in Jerusalem,
and I have spent much of the past 10 months being scared. In hopes
of generating a discussion that might take us beyond attacking and
delegitimizing each other�I want to talk about the fear we share these
days�and the questions I believe we should consider together.
I am the director of Bat Shalom, the national Israeli women's peace organization
and a core member organization of the Women's Coalition for Peace. For
the past 10 months, Jewish and Palestinian Israeli women have been relentlessly,
creatively, and courageously opposing the escalating violence and human
rights violations in our region.
We are scared as we protest in the streets of Tel Aviv and in Palestinian
villages under siege. We have stood huddled in small groups of six or
seven, as well as with the over 10,000 women and men in 150 cities and
towns around the world who stood in solidarity with us this past June
8. [June 8 marks the anniversary of Israel's occupation of the Palestinian
Territories. On June 8, 2001, Women In Black held a vigil and march in
concert with other organizations around the world, calling for peace.]
We are harassed and cursed, harassed and arrested. And again I am scared
as we raise our voices for a peace born in justice-the only kind of peace
that will ensure long-term security for our two peoples-and scared again
as we demand a mutually negotiated agreement that provides each side
with the land, historical narrative, resources, and dignity it deserves�
[I am] anxious as I sit across from a Palestinian peace and liberation
colleague before an Israeli-Palestinian woman's political dialogue, and
she opens with a smile, and then a tear, and looks over and says, "Terry,
my soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death." Frightened
again, that I am not large enough to hold her pain, scared that I could
potentially drown in her well of desperation.
And on the days that I stand witness as part of the Israeli women's checkpoint
watch, monitoring and documenting human rights abuses at Israeli checkpoints
around Jerusalem, the three women who are on duty with me tentatively
exchange emergency phone numbers with each other in case something should
happen while on duty. I find that my stomach only calms down when I have
crossed back into West Jerusalem, and all that I am left to deal with
is the normal level of anxiety that accompanies us as we make our individual
ways home, traveling on the public buses and in taxis that do not always
make it to their destinations without blowing up.
But the more profoundly scary situations for me oftentimes have little
to do with my own physical safety. In recent months, Israeli, American,
and Palestinian participants in the Oslo and Camp David negotiating teams
have been publishing opinion papers on the collapse of the peace process.
We now have documentation that reveals the original spirit and intention
of Oslo-which was based on the understanding that the imbalance of power
between the occupier and the occupied, and the negative history between
our two peoples- represented almost insurmountable obstacles for conventional-type
negotiations.
As Israeli negotiator Dr. Ron Pundak noted, "Our goal was to work towards
a conceptual change, which would lead to a dialogue based, as much as
possible, on fairness, equality, and common objectives. For many years,
our two peoples had tried to attain achievements at the expense of the
other side. Every victory won by one side was considered a defeat for
the other. In contrast," says Dr. Pundak, "Oslo was, from the start,
guided by efforts to abandon this approach and to achieve as many win-win
situations as possible..."
The spirit of Oslo was never tested, and therefore it is unacceptable
to say that a negotiated settlement is impossible. Oslo didn't fail,
we did. I am terrified to know that our leadership was aware of the profound
shift in consciousness and public education for peace that were necessary
to attempt a negotiated agreement, and was unable to, or chose not to,
risk authentically acknowledging the other side as an integral partner
for our own success. We never sat down together on the same side of the
table and TOGETHER LOOKED at our common and complex joint history, with
the commitment and intention of not getting up until-in respect and reciprocity-we
could get up together and begin our new history as good neighbors�
People often ask me what I have learned, living and doing peace work
with Israeli and Palestinian women living in a conflict zone. "What I
can tell you is that women learn from women's lives. Women's characteristic
life experience gives them the potential for two things: a very special
kind of intelligence, social intelligence, and a very special kind of
courage, social courage. The courage to cross the lines drawn between
us, which are also the lines drawn inside our heads. And the intelligence
to do it safely, without a gun, and to do it productively." [Cynthia
Cockburn, 2001, City University, London, England]
I believe that existing borders are not necessarily an obstacle for women.
Led by our feelings and instincts, women will cross them. Nothing will
stop us. It is scary to me, that as bad as the current situation is,
no one is asking us what we-the women-think or have to offer; no one
has yet realized how critical our contribution is to the process. As
women we want to be able to look our children in the eyes, without shame,
and tell them that injustice was committed in our name, and we did our
best to stop it. Even when we are women whose very existence contradicts
each other, we will talk-we will not shoot.
I am suggesting that it is imperative and constructive for us, all of
us, to individually and communally examine our fears. There is much that
informs our political positions and passions that has its roots in those
fears. In that process of examination lies much of the potential for
the genuine unity and identity we might one day be able to reclaim-together.
For though we promise and envision according to our hopes, we perform
only according to our fears. |