Identifying with what is OURS

I have friends and family who understand and identify with my feelings and opinions on the state of affairs in Israel and on this war, and those who don’t. Sometimes, you share your thoughts with those in that gray area who understand, even if I ask myself why they should identify.

Early this past week, it was reported that four Israeli citizens, Bedouin Arab women from the largest Arab city in Israel, Rahat, had traveled with a 3-year-old girl to Nablus (in the West Bank). Spoiler: They all survived – an attempt to burn them in their car by Jewish West Bank settlers. A right-wing, religious woman Member of Knesset justified it lest they were spies. Really? Really. That evening, I sent a message to a close friend from Rahat just to say that I could not begin to imagine how anyone in Rahat must feel. He rightfully wrote back that it was unbelievable no suspects were arrested. (The following day two suspects were arrested.) We all know how differently that would have looked if Palestinians, citizens of Israel had been the attackers, not to mention if Palestinians from the West Bank had been involved. My friend also wrote, and it’s not the first time, about his concerns for the future of his children in our country. Our country. Yes. It is our country. We are both citizens of this country.

The next day, I spoke to a Bedouin woman from Rahat, a 43-year-old social worker who founded an NGO to address issues of personal safety, particularly domestic violence against women. We were introduced so I could help her write about her work in English. During the conversation, I had a compulsion to tell her too that I am appalled by what happened to the women and child from Rahat. It borders on the obvious, if our mutual friend made the connection, that I would feel this way. Apparently, it was not obvious to her. She profusely expressed appreciation for my articulating my feelings. We scheduled to speak again later in the week to review material and scheduled to meet in Rahat in two weeks. We bonded.

On Wednesday another old friend, a left-wing, yet religious Jew, referred me to an article by Omer Bartov. I knew I had to read it, because I remembered the name. I remembered the reassurance I had found in an article he wrote in Ha’aretz in November. He is an Israeli, a professor of Holocaust history at Brown University. In November, he wrote a convincing, data-based op-ed criticizing Israel, yet explaining that its actions in Gaza fell short of an argument for accusing Israeli of genocide.

Momentarily distracted, I recall an email from a woman, a European member of an international Christian organization several months ago. The organization awarded a prize for peacebuilding for the Israeli-Palestinian binational NGO that I work for. She referred matter-of-factly in her email to genocide – that Israel was committing. I was offended. After all, I had Bartov’s analysis among others to argue to the contrary. I was disappointed. She is supporting our work, and I wanted to expect a more balanced view than hers implied. Was it not lack of integrity if I refrained from politely calling it to her attention? But of course, I represent an organization. I consulted with my boss. He asked, almost rhetorically, if I know how Israel looks to the world. Internally, I felt like a child having a temper tantrum, for wanting something I can’t have: Wanting Israel to be something better than it is. Let her comment go.

This week I read the current, long, article by Omer Bartov in the Guardian, following his recent visit in Israel to see family and speak at a university. He continues to make data-based analyses, now concluding that Israel conducts genocidal acts. I no longer had the internal tantrum, because I know Israel is not what I want it to be. It struck me that Bartov wrote about conducting such “acts,” and I understand because it is too painful for me to accept that Israel is committing that. In the end, he wrote a few paragraphs lacking logical continuity with everything he had presented. I think he was just trying to convince himself of some basis for hope – rational or not. Understood. I just couldn’t sleep that night.

The next day, I spoke to my new Bedouin woman friend, and apologized for sounding distracted, less focused on what we planned to discuss. I started to cry. I explained. As a Jew, I can’t bear seeing what is happening to this country. Our country. She comforted me. She reminded me: There are good people and there are bad people, on both sides, and we must keep doing the work of good people; we can’t let the bad people win. Yes. I know. She identified with me. She articulated a shared concern for our country. I felt profuse appreciation.

On Friday morning, I awakened to the news from Thursday night of Jewish settlers setting cars afire in Jit, a Palestinian town adjacent to Nablus. One Palestinian killed. To the best of my knowledge, no arrests yet. According to The Jerusalem Post, “Preliminary findings revealed that an IDF force deployed to calm the tensions in the village did not act with enough determination to prevent the settlers’ riots.”

The focus of my tearful eyes shifted yet again. A medley of related thoughts: Minister of National Security, Ben Gvir ascended the Temple Mount this past week on the Hebrew date, 9^th of Av, commemorating the destruction of the Second Temple. Provocation. Refusal to approve senior police appointments who did not rise from his ranks. MKs continuing to promote judicial reform as if no other issue matters to Israeli society. Minister of Finance, Smotrich dismisses declining credit status of Israel internationally. Negotiations in Qatar. Wondering whether Netanyahu cares about releasing the hostages from Gaza, or just his bets on the upcoming US elections. I am disturbed.

This morning, Israel attacked in Lebanon. Victims – innocent ones alongside a terrorist. My feelings on such issues remain the same. There are other ways.

But if Iran isn’t stopped now. It will become too late. An unsettling argument. It will become regional. International.

There is a better way – and people who identify with it.

Harriet Gimpel, August 17, 2024