March for Freedom

This past week, a group of 150 African refugees took a stand against Israel's unjust and immoral policies against asylum seekers. Absconding from an open detention center in the south, they marched to Jerusalem to protest in front of the Prime Minister's house, and Israeli parliament, the Knesset. This comes a week after the Knesset passed an amendment to the anti-infiltration bill, making it legal to imprison asylum seekers for up to a year in prison, without trail, and for indefinite periods of time in an "open" detention camp.  An amendment that closely resembles a previous anti-infiltration amendment that was recently struck down by the High Court of Justice, for it's unconstitutionality. 

Not only did their march get very little coverage in Israeli media, but the Israeli public seems non-plussed by their governments clearly racist and undemocratic policies. These are fierce accusations, I admit. I am also aware of the delicacy of the issue of immigration, however, let me present you with a couple important pieces of important information. 

1. The number of asylum seekers, or "infiltrators" entering Israel, has drastically reduced in the past year, as Israel has completed building the fence along it's southern border with Egypt. Amnesty International puts the number at around 40. 

2. The majority of asylum seekers presently in Israel hail from Eritrea and Sudan, two countries with which Israel has no diplomatic ties, which complicates forced expulsions, making it impossible for Israel to send these people back to their home countries. (Let me just state that these countries are unstable and dangerous, as of last year, a quarter million people have fled Eritrea, and half a million have fled Sudan).

So these actions which are aimed at deterring more African immigrants from making the difficult and dangerous trek to Israel, seem to be a gross mismanagement of time, funds, and energy. And since we cannot forcibly send most of them back, why not allow them access to asylum status. The money and time invested in building these detention centers, could be better placed in providing these asylum seekers with a modicum of normalcy. Perhaps a proper refugee status determination process-- which the Ministry of Interior has for the past ten years been blatantly dodging, as is apparent in the fact that .2% of Africans currently in Israel have received asylum status. 

Or how about investing the money in community development programs for the poor neighbors in which the refugees have settled? I know from firsthand experience the level of animosity that exists in south Tel-Aviv, as I was physically accosted last spring in an event in the Levinsky Park. Residents of areas like Schunat HaTikvah, have been complaining for years that the immigrants have been causing problems in their already impoverished community. 

This is just to say that since deportation is not an option for most of the asylum seekers, Israel needs a better long term strategy to deal with them. Open detention centers do not in any way deal with the issue. As of now, the refugees will spend the next 3 months in prison-- and then be returned to the open detention facilities. This is only a small act of civil disobedience, but it's significance cannot be overlooked. 

I am personally disappointed in Israeli societies capacity to overlook the pain of others, as if we had never been strangers in a foreign land? I've said it before and I'll say it again, if the moral test of a society is how it treats its weakest members, then Israel would surely fail. I sometimes feel like a stranger in my own country: does the fact that I am a Jew mean I should put the needs of Jews over the apparent and real suffering of others? 

“[w]hen a stranger lives with you in your land, do not ill-treat him. The stranger who lives with you shall be treated like the native born. Love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”-- Leviticus 19:33

Madiba's Lessons for the Middle East

Today we said goodbye to one of the greatest hero's of our time, leader, revolutionary, activist, and the list continues on... Nelson Mandela.

This past year, as I found myself catapulted into the world of peacemaking, Madiba's legacy has come to mean quite a lot to me. Maybe it's the fact that he was still alive, pushing through his illness, and seemingly immortal. Maybe it's that I realized if he was able to overcome all the adversity, hate, and difficulties life threw at him, then maybe we could conquer such obstacles in the Middle East.

I understand the worlds sudden fascination and obsession with everything he has ever said or done,or those who denigrate Mandela because he was best friends with Arafat, or chummy with Cuba. However, I believe it's irrelevant to try and scrutinize his every word or action. Imagine at your death, the world has a record of everything you have ever said, with this day in age-- the internet, text messages-- no one could possibly remain a saint. And we admire him because of his humanity, not for his perfection.

So I prefer to take his life's work, and use it as inspiration, by forcing people to remember what he was capable of. Not repeating the pattern of oppression, he knew that revenge and anger could only lead so far. He believed in good-- the unbending belief that in each person there is goodness-- no matter how much past hurt, or cultural fictions worked against him, he could find that goodness.

What saddens me the most, is the realization of what an anomaly he is in this world. How did he restrain himself from seeking revenge? How did he only serve one term in presidency? How did he supersede the paradigm of the oppressed and the oppressor, to serve side by side with his former enemy, FW de Klerk. (Yes, their relationship was marked by intense mutual resentment. Which excuse me, but no duh, is not surprising. Can you imagine Bibi and Marwan Barghouti, working together side by side, devoid of any acrimony?That's a dream even I know is impossible.)

I feel we are so embedded in our cultural narratives, we can't help ourselves but throw vitriolic condemnation at our neighbors, attribute all the blame to the other side. Society puts too much emphasis on fitting the mold, that we fall into the predetermined power structures, of right and wrong, good and bad.

I know his passing has lit a spark in me-- something has suddenly changed--I am worried that our future generations, more cynical than even we are today, will feel Nelson Mandela was merely a parable of some sort used to promote understanding and peace.

To keep his legacy alive, I will make a conscious effort. How much longer will we make enemies in our minds, berating people we have never tried to understand? How many times have we refused to offer kindness, to ourselves, to our neighbor, or to some part of society we prefer not to acknowledge. How many more excuses will we cultivate in order to justify the status quo? For how much longer will we allow our anger and resentment to block the way towards reconciliation and forgiveness?

With every day, comes a choice. The choice to perpetuate change, and make an effort, even when it's not easy, even when you feel the odds are against you. It's becoming sappy, and I am sorry to go there but I feel we need a little hope in our lives. We have all the power to change the world; the only thing that is standing in our way is our negative beliefs, and self doubt.

As we believe in the goodness inherently within each of us, we can recognize and evoke that goodness in the world around us.