NW Transdenominational Congregation Forms

Published in the Arizona Jewish Post August 17, 2007.

Makom Simcha (Place of Joy), a new alternative congregation in Northwest Tucson, focuses upon Chasidic storytelling and music to "bring people closer to G-d, each other and creation through an open, creative and joyous expression of Judaism," says Rabbi Menashe Bovit. He describes the fledgling congregation as "transdenominationa," welcoming Jews of all backgrounds to participate in services. "In my view," he explains, "each one of the established Jewish movements is a piece of a puzzle, a piece of the truth. A transdenominational perspective feels that it's okay to sample from the different movements and also to be creative and generate a new perspective that amplifies the tradition in a positive way."

The Chicago-born rabbi developed a fondness for Tucson as a psychology student at the University of Arizona in his early twenties. The son of a Holocaust survivor, Bovit was raised in an observant home, but despite a strong sense of pride in his Jewish heritage, he found it difficult to connect with Judaism in his youth. Of his early Jewish education, he says, "We learned how to read Hebrew, but there was no attempt at making Judaism a relevant experience. There was no fun in it. It was basically an obligatory experience." At the UA, his alienation from Judaism was turned around when his girlfriend brought him to a concert of "Singing Rabbi" Shlomo Carlebach. He went on to become a student of Carlebach, who ordained him as a rabbi in 1991. During his years studying with the Chasidic rabbi, says Bovit, he was inspired by Carlebach's kindness.

Bovit has served as a congregational rabbi in various communities throughout the United States, including Reno, Nev., and Ft. Collins, Colo. He returned to Tucson several months ago and has since worked toward establishing Makom Simcha. The congregation held its first informal chavurah on Aug. 8, with almost 40 people in attendance. Another chavurah will be held Wed., Aug. 22 at 7:30 p.m. at the Northwest YMCA located at 7770 N. Shannon Rd.

The congregation also plans to hold alternative Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur services at the YMCA. The Rosh Hashana gathering is scheduled for Wednesday, Sept. 12 at 7:30 p.m. A Kol Nidre "Service of Forgiveness and Healing" will be held on Friday, Sept. 21 at 6 p.m. For more information, call 866-528-9253.

Remembering Rachel Corrie the Activist, Not the Myth

Published in Left Hook. An earlier version appeared in The Peace Chronicle Vol. 2 No. 3 (Fall/Winter 2003).

Recently, the prestigious Royal Court Theatre premiered a play entitled “My Name is Rachel Corrie,” sparking an outpouring of stirring tributes and hateful diatribes about the drama’s protagonist. For the activist community, Rachel has become a vivid symbol of resistance and solidarity with the world’s oppressed, as the many songs, poems, films, and art pieces devoted to her confirm. But to those of us whose lives have crossed paths with hers, as mine did during my years at the Evergreen State College, the international response to Rachel’s death can take on unique and difficult dimensions.

Having once known the subject of this sudden outpouring of adulation, it has been with painfully mixed emotions that I have watched her transformation from a young woman who was bright, idealistic, articulate, and irrepressibly alive, to one who is renowned, enshrined, canonized, and gone. Certainly, that immortalized image of little tiny Rachel unbudgingly staring down the giant metal monster that loomed before her, mouth open to swallow her up, has been a powerful source of inspiration to many in search of some model of conviction to fuel their own struggles and give them the courage and strength to persist. And to what would have likely been Rachel’s satisfaction, the International Solidarity Movement has received unprecedented media recognition in the wake of the tragedy, and recruitment for the organization has soared, with scores of young people hoping to follow in the footsteps of this striking figure. Yet I recall the emergency meeting of local activists held the day afterward, which was filled with refrains of “this is a great opportunity” and “we could really use this as leverage,” and I find myself strangely paralyzed, left with the wrenching question: is it possible for a movement to succeed without martyrs?

I would like to believe that it is possible. When behind a movement lies a vision based on the precept that every life is infinitely sacred and worthy of protection, it seems an imperative that this principle extend to the adherents themselves, negating the celebration of human sacrifice. Still, the ghosts of past movements seem to line up in hopes of proving me wrong: Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Malcolm X, and Jesus, all of them ready to die, and die again on a symbolic yearly basis, for the sins of the rest of us so that we may go on committing them forever and ever. In that intoxicating glow that sets in on crowds who identify with a martyred figure, all that is left of her memory is rendered hollow, reduced to a dehumanized cardboard cutout that is less a person (one who, perhaps, wrote silly poetry and had a stack of dishes in the sink the size of the Eiffel Tower) and more a mere symbol.

This is not to say that everyone who has paid tribute to Rachel throughout the last two years, much less the multitudes of people worldwide who were so deeply touched by her story, are entirely lacking in respect for her as a human being. In fact, I believe it was largely her humanness that resonated with them to begin with. What concerns me most is the manner in which her actions will be remembered in the time to come, when everyone who crossed paths with her during her lifetime is gone. Even now, when her community is still reeling, there can already be seen a deeply misleading mythology springing up around her. Like Rosa Parks, she is most commonly portrayed as a lone figure moved by sudden, nearly superhuman inspiration to throw herself heroically in front of a bulldozer poised for destruction, when in reality her actions were carefully planned (even routine, by that point), carried out not in isolation but as part of an organized network of experienced, community-based activists. Before that singular moment now emblazoned in our collective consciousness, she and others in her organization repaired wells, walked terrified children to school, and spent countless hours just trying to dig some semblance of dignity and humanity from the rubble of lives shattered by incomprehensible suffering. Rachel did not travel to Gaza simply to stand in front of a bulldozer, and she did not go there to die. Nor are these her greatest achievements.

Like its Arabic counterpart “shaheed,” which now graces posters of Rachel on the streets of Rafah and has become source of pride for many here in Olympia, the term “martyr” has its roots in the meaning “to bear witness.” And, indeed, it was primarily to bear witness to the plight of a people with whom the lives of Americans are so intimately yet so remotely connected that my fallen schoolmate chose to undertake the work she did. One cannot help but wonder, though, whether it should have taken her brutal killing to make the world pay attention. Why could she not have borne witness, and been heard, without becoming a martyr and losing her life, a life boundlessly irreplaceable in its uniqueness and beauty? Further, why do we not offer the same recognition to the many other internationals who were lucky enough to evade such a brutal fate, or to the many Palestinians who were not?

As we remember the life of Rachel Corrie, and the many peacemakers who came before her and are sure to come after, it is my hope that we will remember them not as infallible, superhuman figures acting alone and out of some extremely rare quality of character, but as ordinary people immersed in communities of compassion, because in the end, the reality is far more inspiring than the myth.

An American in Haifa

Published October 2006 in Hakol.

When I arrived in the northern Israeli city of Haifa in early July, I was struck by the breathtaking beauty of the city, with its winding mountain roads, whitewashed Mediterranean buildings, and serene beaches. What better place to learn Hebrew and experience firsthand Israel’s most pluralistic city, with its coexistence between its substantial Arab, Jewish, Druze, Bahai, and Christian communities. By the time my second week in the Middle East arrived, however, it would become clear that this educational experience would provide lessons far beyond those I had come to learn.

On Thursday, July 13, Haifa’s previous sense of disconnect from regional strife was shattered as the first of many Katyusha rockets slammed into the Stella Maris neighborhood, a beautiful area from which, two days before the attack, I had enjoyed views of Haifa’s port and the distant coast of Lebanon. That night would be the first of several spent in a bomb shelter huddled anxiously around a classmate’s radio. In the following days, nearby explosions would shake the ground, and with the routine of classes interrupted, I would find myself spending hours in a stuffy shelter. The experience was not without its benefits, however. From these besieged Israelis I would learn not only the unforeseen joy of chocolate sandwiches, but more importantly, the impact of life under siege upon a society.

For Israel, as for all nations, the experience of the present is colored by historical memory. From the solemn halls of the Holocaust museum Yad Vashem to the war memorials dotting each city, past suffering fills one’s consciousness as strongly as does the fact that nearly every Israeli one meets has lost a loved one to political violence. Huddling in the shelters, people’s thoughts inevitably meander to the past…especially, in this case, to the SCUDs rained down by Saddam Hussein during the Gulf War. That war has left an indelible imprint upon Israel not only because of its experience of terror—drudging to the surface the ever-present specter of annihilation—but perhaps even more because of the powerlessness Israel felt when asked by the United States to stay out of the conflict so as not to provoke Arab ire. This sense of powerlessness surfaced then in the form of inward-turned aggression, as the country faced an epidemic of domestic violence, and it is resurfacing today, only this time turned outward.

While many in the international community have condemned the extent of Israel’s military operation in Lebanon, the overwhelming majority of Israelis I spoke with said, “enough is enough.” And “enough,” let us not forget, is a word that stretches over not only years of Hezbollah aggression, but decades of unremitting conflict, the ongoing need to assert Israel’s very right to exist, and centuries of persecution of Jews. These are not the fault of innocent Lebanese, and Israel’s air campaign has been both deadly to civilians and ineffective in ensuring Israel’s security. This painful reality was brought home to me every night as I lay in bed listening to the constant roar of Israeli war planes headed north, unable to sleep with the awareness that the sound meant crushed homes and lives cut short. This reality was also brought home to me every time I did manage some sleep, only to awake to the sound of explosions and artillery fire. However, while it is crucial to condemn the killing of civilians, it is also important to understand the context in which such violence takes place. When the leaders of Europe insist that Israel lay down its arms, even as rockets continue to fall upon its cities, the painful memory of Gulf War powerlessness sounds as loudly in Israelis’ ears as does the wailing of air raid sirens outside. The problem is only further compounded when the condemnations of Israel come with accusations of Israeli exploitation of the Holocaust.

Historical memory also provides clues into the unanimity with which Israeli public opinion has stood by the actions of the Israeli military in Lebanon. In the early 1980s, when Israel invaded Lebanon in order to combat the PLO and aid Lebanon’s Maronite Christian leadership in the midst of civil war, the invasion was met with widespread dissent. A large segment of the population was vocally opposed to the war, and formed the peace movement that has in more recent times shifted its focus to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Following the withdrawal of Israel’s remaining troops from Lebanon in 2000, such peace-seeking sentiments have finally turned sour when they failed to bring about the desired results, and attacks continued. In the bomb shelter, an Israeli student told me about a close friend, one of the founders of Four Mothers, a peace organization sometimes credited with the withdrawal from Lebanon. This time, she said, “we gave them their chance, and they blew it.” The tradition of dissent, nonetheless, remains alive in Israel, evidenced by a recent ten thousand-strong peace demonstration in Tel Aviv. The calls for peace are often led by women, including the organization Women in Black, which continued its weekly vigil in Haifa even as the city faced ongoing violence. Even among those who support the war in Lebanon, many tears are shed for its innocent victims on both sides.

Even in such a time of strife, Haifa taught me many things. I experienced the enduring generosity of its inhabitants, from Israelis such as my roommate, who insisted on feeding her new American friends a feast of hummus, yogurt, olives, and traditional Arab bread and soothing our nerves even though her own family faces greater danger farther north. “Savlanut,” the Israelis would remind us. “Patience.” I saw that in a pluralistic city like Haifa, targeted perhaps for this very pluralism, everyone suffers together, Jew and Arab alike. And I even managed to learn a little Hebrew.

September 11: The Day the Words Changed

Published in Days Beyond Recall special issue A Nation in Distress, September 11, 2006.

Few Americans who lived during the terrorist attack of September 11, 2001 will ever forget the searing images that filled their television screens that day, nor will they forget the words they have come to associate with those powerful images. Almost immediately, the discourse that sprang up around the tragedy became deeply imbedded in the collective American consciousness, and few have questioned it due to its emotional nature and the fear of dishonoring the victims or eroding national solidarity by questioning its mythology. Because of this discourse, which arose from within the elite rather than spontaneously, Americans have been able to debate the implications of 9/11 only within the framework of several fundamental myths.

September 11 is perhaps the only date in American history, besides July 4, that has been deemed so significant that the date itself has become a national buzzword summing up a tremendous well of images, emotions, and associations. The immediate coverage of the 9/11 attacks cemented within the viewer’s consciousness a highly emotional memory that has since been invoked by political leaders seeking to use the potent mix of fear, anger, herd mentality, righteous victimhood, and religious feeling to forward their own agendas. The attacks were reported as a national crisis of epic proportions, prompting American viewers to feel as though they themselves were closer to the tragedy than most were in physical reality and to respond with crisis instinct rather than careful reasoning. This, in turn, has become a powerful rhetorical device; as long as leaders could invoke the memory, so too could they invoke that crisis mentality, whether crisis truly existed or not.

One of the central myths saturating the discourse on the attacks is the loss of innocence. In a 2002 speech before Congress, former Secretary of State Colin Powell asserted, “The world is a different place, a more dangerous place than the place that existed before September 11.” Later, in the same speech, he remarked that, “As a consequence of the terrorist attacks…a new reality was born.” Though the majority of Americans were indeed largely unaware of the tension that has for several decades surrounded U.S. foreign policy toward the Middle East, the ignorance had been chiefly the result of official brushing aside of warning signs. Yet the attacks have been presented as random acts of irrational savagery that befell an uninvolved and unsuspecting nation quite literally “out of the clear blue sky.” Certainly, the direct victims were innocent and unsuspecting, but coverage maintained that the nation itself was the victim, presenting only a partial view of the larger picture in which the attacks were spurned in part by exploitative policies of the United States government.

The loss of innocence also meant the loss of a sense of complacency and security. No longer could Americans feel safe in their own homes and offices; no longer could they afford the luxury of opting for an isolationist approach to global affairs. “America’s determination to actively oppose the threats of our time was formed and fixed on September 11” George W. Bush remarked in his pivotal October 2002 speech extolling the necessity of invading Iraq. In the speech, President George W. Bush invoked the attacks by saying, “We must never forget the most vivid events of recent history. On Sept 11, 2001, America felt its vulnerability.” He concluded the speech with a reminder that “the attacks of September 11 showed our country that vast oceans no longer protect us from danger.” The President has been able to invoke the attacks ad infinitum without criticism because one of the universal human responses to tragedy is to place a sense of sanctity around the issue of remembrance. In numerous speeches, Bush has peppered discussions of various issues by reiterating, “America must remember/never forget the lessons of September 11.” Since the vast majority of Americans feel compelled to honor the victims by preserving the memory of what happened, such rhetoric carries the uneasy implication that to oppose Bush’s agenda is to forget, and hence dishonor, those who lost their lives.

Despite the lack of evidence pointing to a connection between the Iraqi government and the al-Qaida network, President Bush continued to draw a parallel between the two situations, stating that “[Saddam’s atrocities] have killed or injured at least 20,000 people, more than six times the number of people killed in the attacks of September 11” and “some citizens wonder, after 11 years of living with this problem, why do we need to confront it now? And there’s a reason. We’ve experienced the horror of September the 11.” While he avoided overt references to collaboration between Iraq and al-Qaida once this was declared a dubious possibility, the President maintained the habit of discussing both in the same sentence, prompting many Americans to form an unconscious association. In the October speech, Bush mentioned Iraq and al-Qaida in tandem six times, asserting that “Iraq and the al-Qaida terrorist network share a common enemy-the United States of America.” The connection was further cemented by discussion of Saddam’s “arsenal of terror,” along with his potential to form “links to terrorist groups” and to “finance terror.” It would be a mistake to underestimate the impact of this rhetorical device, in light of a Zogby America poll revealing that five years after the attacks, 46% of Americans still believe that Saddam was directly involved with 9/11.

One of the most frequently repeated truisms about the tragedy was that “everything changed on 9/11,” or “the world changed after September 11.” In many speeches by government officials, political pundits, and journalists, one can find frequent references to “the world after September 11.” The concept of a new reality, though it was a reality created not by the event itself but rather by the response, has been echoed in a plethora of official speeches, offering justification for policies that had once been considered unacceptable. A new reality, the logic went, calls for new ethics; no longer can the United States rely upon outmoded codes of chivalrous warfare in the face of an unpredictable and inhuman enemy. The impact of the tragedy had little to do with the number of lives lost, as indeed recent history is filled with violent events leaving far greater casualties, but rather with the importance assigned to it by those with the power to shape popular discourse. In actuality, the U.S. invasion of Iraq has had a far greater impact on the objective reality of geopolitics, directly bringing about a dramatic increase in instability that will affect global politics for decades. Particularly important is that the creation of a new, socially constructed reality serves the Orwellian purpose of erasing history, with all of its valuable lessons and clues about the present. And that is why it is so vital that as we recall the tragedy of September 11, we also take care to remember September 10th, to remember the world we inhabited before this great shift in consciousness. Only those of us who lived through the change can preserve the reality the Bush administration is striving to erase, and transmit that reality to generations to come.

Still Standing for Peace: A Different Side of Israel in a Time of War

Published in Days Beyond Recall Vol. No. 3 (March 2007).

When I headed to the northern Israeli city of Haifa this summer to study at Haifa University, I certainly did not anticipate that I would spend many hours huddled in an underground bomb shelter as the building shook from the impact of Katyusha rockets launched by Hezbollah. The experience, nonetheless, afforded me an opportunity to see firsthand the diversity of responses to a war depicted in the mainstream media as backed by overwhelming consensus on the part of the Israeli public. The war in Lebanon did occur with the backing of the majority of Israelis, especially in its beginning stages. Epitomizing the apparent unanimity with which Israelis accepted the war was a conversation I had with a Haifa University student in the shelter. He told me of a discussion he had with a close friend, one of the founders of Four Mothers, an organization that formed the heart of popular opposition to the first Lebanon War in 1982 and is sometimes credited with Israel’s withdrawal in 2000. This summer, she adopted a drastically different viewpoint, wholeheartedly backing Israel’s government and military. Referring to opponents of Israel north of the border, she had one thing to say: “we gave them their chance, and they blew it.” To the chagrin of many longtime advocates of peace, her change of heart was not unique. Polls show that at various intervals during the conflict, between 86%-95% of the Israeli public supported the deadly bombing and subsequent invasion of Lebanon.

Behind this ostensible unity, however, lay a burgeoning movement of vocal opposition to the invasion of Lebanon, representing a side of Israeli society rarely seen in the media. Although criticism of the invasion only entered the mainstream as the war became understood as a humanitarian disaster and strategic failure, internal opposition on a mass scale existed from the earliest days of the war. On August 5, at the pinnacle of internal dissent, 10,000 Israeli demonstrators poured into Tel Aviv’s Magen David Square to voice their opposition to the destruction of Lebanon. Despite verbal harassment and eggs thrown by detractors, they chanted in Hebrew, “Children want to live/in Haifa and in Beirut!” Many called for the resignation of Defense Minister Amir Peretz. While the August 5 demonstration marked the height of Israeli mass protest against the war, public dissent existed throughout the duration of the conflict. On July 22, 5,000 demonstrators amassed in Tel Aviv to demand that their government “stop the guns and start talking.” Although the war brought about a split within the Four Mothers, 15 former members decided to form their own organization called Waking Up On Time, seeking to prevent a repeat of the tragic events of the first war in Lebanon.

Throughout the month-long conflict, the Israeli organization Gush Shalom (“Peace Bloc”) emerged at the forefront of the movement, working in tandem with Women’s Coalition for Peace, the Arab/Jewish partnership Ta’ayush (“Life in Common”), Anarchists Against Walls, Yesh Gvul (“There Is A Limit”), the Israeli-Palestinian Forum of Bereaved Families, and many others. The movement was comprised of a diverse cross-section of the Israeli public, including feminists, parents with young children, students, veteran peace activists, and political parties such as the Marxist, non-Zionist Hadash party, the Israeli-Arab Balad party, and the United Arab List. Addressing the crowd on August 5, Gush Shalom spokesman Adam Keller remarked that “the criminal has returned to the scene of the crime,” drawing a parallel between the July 30 attack on Qana and the 1996 massacre that targeted the same Lebanese city. “That massacre compelled [Prime Minister] Shimon Peres to break off his war,” Keller continued. “The conclusion is that we must stop this war at once, before it is too late.”

The attack on Qana, in which at least 56 civilians were killed, was a major focal point for criticism of the war. A few hours after the bombing, Israelis came together spontaneously to express their outrage over the attack. Several hundred demonstrators gathered outside the Ministry of Defense in Tel Aviv, accompanied by former Knesset members Ya’el Dayan and Naomi Hazan, who condemned the official pro-war position of their Meretz party.

Israeli dissent against the war in Lebanon was not limited to street protests. Following in the footsteps of numerous Israeli war refusers before him, 28-year-old Iztik Shabbat became the first conscientious objector of the conflict. When ordered to serve in the West Bank on July 19 in order to replace IDF soldiers being sent to Lebanon, he instead signed the Courage to Refuse petition, telling the Israeli paper Haaretz that “Someone has to be the first to break through the false consensus around this war.” On August 12, Yesh Gvul and others staged a demonstration outside Israeli Military Prison #6, from which the “refuseniks” inside could hear musical performances and speeches of support and solidarity. Among the speakers was Yonatan Shapira, himself a refusenik who as a young Air Force pilot co-founded the joint Israeli/Palestinian organization of veterans Combatants for Peace. In 2003, Shapira and a group of fellow pilots resolved not to fly attack missions against Palestinian targets. Standing outside the prison, Shapira delivered a speech honoring his brother Itamar, who was confined inside for his refusal to serve in the war. In an interview with Haaretz, Yonaton announced “there is no chance that I’m wearing a military uniform in any situation in this war while the military is doing what it is doing.” Additional support comes from New Profile: the Movement for the Civil-ization of Israeli Society, which provides services and education to those who refuse service for reasons of conscience.

Despite the strength of the demonstrations and the resoluteness of the war’s refusers, many activists concur that the July conflict marked an unprecedented split within the decades-old Israeli peace movement. Particularly indicative of this split was the pro-war stance of Peace Now, the organization that stood at the heart of public opposition to the 1982 invasion of Lebanon. During that period, Peace Now played a pivotal role in mobilizing Israeli public opinion against the killing of civilians, most notably the massacres of Palestinian refugees at Sabra and Shatila by Israeli-backed Lebanese militia. In 2006, however, the organization openly supported attacks on Lebanon, which Peace Now leaders referred to as a defensive war. Renowned novelist Amos Oz, a founding member of Peace Now, echoed the sentiment in the op-ed pages of the L.A. Times, writing that “the Israeli peace movement should support Israel’s attempt at self-defense, pure and simple.” Perhaps most illustrative of the change is the very fact that Peace Now co-founder Amir Peretz went on to be one of the primary architects and advocates of the 2006 invasion.

Regardless of the official stance of the organization, Peace Now members were by no means unanimous in their support of the war. Galia Golan, a longtime Peace Now leader and Professor of Political Science at Hebrew University, challenged the popular conception of the war as an unavoidable measure of defense. “I am strongly opposed to this war,” she said in an interview with the Heinrich Boll Foundation, explaining her participation in the July 22 protest. “And if Peace Now and Meretz are not demonstrating, I had to find another vehicle for protest.” In a July 31 interview with NPR’s Michele Norris, Golan lamented, “I think the peace movement has been badly hit, frankly. I have been thinking all along that it might take just a few weeks and people would come out against the war and that we would have a better sense of at least where our own public is. That’s not happening.”

For Golan and many others, dissent against the invasion of Lebanon and the occupation of Palestinian territories are deeply and irrevocably intertwined with the need to challenge gender oppression. The implications of militarized masculinity are profound for women in a society in which military service is a centrality. Military conflicts are often brought home in the form of domestic violence, which is frequently overlooked or excused because of the stress soldiers face during combat and the willingness of the collective society to sacrifice women’s well-being for the sake of “national security.” Although women are required to complete military service, the perception of the military as a fundamentally male sphere has consequences for female members of the military, which in a militarized society such as Israel often carries over into civilian life. Since women are kept away from performing the more prestigious combat roles and are typically relegated to menial military jobs, they do not establish the valuable contacts that benefit many men as they enter the workforce. Of particularly profound importance is the sexualized manner in which the nation itself is conceptualized, and by extension, the way territorial conquest is conceptualized. It is telling that the Hebrew word kibbush, which is the popular term for a military occupation, also describes the sexual conquest of a woman. The dynamics of militarized masculinity were especially relevant during the war with Hezbollah, which began with an act of kidnapping that served as an insult to Israel’s national manhood. The subsequent killing of more than 1,000 civilians, mainly women and children, in retaliation for such an insult struck an especially poignant chord for many Israeli women activists.

It is because of this keenly felt connection that the movement against the Lebanon invasion was comprised largely of women. “All the elements of this war bring the issues together,” feminist activist Yana Knopova told Lily Galili of Haaretz during an August 11 rally in Tel Aviv: “Feminism, social justice, class distinctions, the environment, and the occupation. Women make this connection.” Many of the leading voices against the war were those of women, including the Women In Black, the umbrella organization Coalition of Women for Peace, and Women Against War, which was formed shortly after the first attack on Lebanon. Hannah Safran, a co-founder of Women Against War, writes on the organization’s website, “We have just completed six years of peace and quiet in the north, but we kept Lebanese prisoners in captivity, not willing to return them or to negotiate their release. Why?” Women Against War co-founder Abir Kopty, who is an Arab-Israeli activist, explained that “we don’t want to see any citizens on both sides killed because of an avoidable war.” The two also belong to the Haifa chapter of the Women in Black, which began its weekly vigils in 1988 and continued them throughout the summer of 2006 in spite of death threats, harassment, and the ever-present threat of Katyusha attacks.

In the months following this summer’s war, the Israeli Left has found itself at an unprecedented crossroads. The war, in conjunction with the ongoing violence stemming from the Gaza Strip, has posed a serious challenge to the traditional premise of the peace movement, which is that the key ingredient in regional peace is withdrawal to Israel’s pre-1967 borders. The dominant view, even among the Left, was that the 2005 Disengagement Plan and the 2000 withdrawal from Lebanon had failed to ensure Israel’s national security. In the eyes of many Israelis, the peace movement itself had failed. The existence of strong, organized opposition toward this war nonetheless demonstrates the likelihood that the summer of 2006 represented not the death of the Israeli peace movement, but rather a new beginning for a movement better acquainted with the philosophical issues looming beyond an ostensibly territorial dispute. The role of feminism this summer is a testament to the possibility that the peace movement will emerge strengthened and better prepared to look beyond the obvious questions of territory and into the deeper myths and ideologies that continue to drive the conflict. ♦

Valerie Saturen is a graduate student in Near Eastern Studies at the University of Arizona. She can be reached at saturen@daysbeyondrecall.org.

Days Beyond Recall Vol. 1 No. 3

The full issue of Days Beyond Recall, March 2007. Includes Howard Zinn, "I Witness Middle East" with firsthand accounts of the July/August 2006 conflict in Israel, Lebanon, and Palestine, and a variety of original creative writing and art.

Read the full issue here:

http://blog.tucsonweekly.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/03/March%20Final.pdf

Distortion & Distraction: Media, Terrorism, and the Middle East

A Conversation With Alternative Radio's David Barsamian

By Valerie Saturen and Gabriel Matthew Schivone

VS: You have discussed the phenomenon of using the passive voice within the mainstream media. In a January 23, 2003 interview with the El Dorado Sun, you said: “The use of the passive voice in journalism excludes agency and obfuscates responsibility. The headlines: 'People in Afghanistan were killed,' 'Lives were lost,' and 'Children starved' are all passive constructions — there's no agency. The active voice is absolutely critical in writing journalism."

I think the active voice is absolutely essential in providing clarity to readers or listeners and viewers so that they understand who is responsible for these acts, and that we’re not dealing with acts of nature. There is state responsibility. So, “Palestinian villages were razed,” “houses were demolished.” Well, how were they demolished? Through some magic? Was it some Houdini magician that came along and was responsible for that? There are enormous political implications in the use of language. If you want to trash the environment, if you want to clear cut trees, then you call it the “Healthy Forest Initiative.” You say that you’re green, and you wave a green flag. If you want to pollute the air, you talk about “Clear Skies.” If you want to gut public education, you call it “No Child Left Behind.” I call it “No Child Left a Dime.” So the use of language is critical. Orwell, of course, was brilliant in describing this, particularly in his essay “Politics and the English Language.” And Chomsky and others have talked about how language is used to manipulate and control the public mind. So now we’re in a “War on Terror.” Everyone accepts that. In fact, on NPR this morning, they said “most Americans are unhappy with the war in Iraq, but they support the War on Terror.”

VS: I'd like to ask you about that. During the same interview, you described terms such as "beacon of democracy," “axis of evil,” and “the war on terror” as “terms of propaganda rather than terms of description.” Even those who challenge the narrative behind these catch phrases often find themselves using them, simply because this is the only terminology everyone understands. How does one avoid this pitfall?

By clearly defining its parameters and its reality, and then trying to create an alternative vocabulary. I always say, “The so-called War on Terror,” because it is not a war on terror. That’s like having a war on jealousy. How can you have a war on terror? If there are criminal acts carried out by individuals or small groups, then that is a matter for police, not for invasions and occupations of countries. I’m not a big fan of the British Empire, but look how it dealt with the uprisings in Northern Ireland. If it followed what the U.S. did, it would have demolished New York and Boston, because that’s where the money for the IRA was coming from. All the arms were being purchased in the United States and being shipped to Ireland. There would have been huge air attacks on Belfast and other cities and towns in Northern Ireland. But they didn’t do that; it was a limited military and police action. It was brutal, but it was much more contained than what the US is doing in Afghanistan and Iraq, and what it is proposing to do in Iran, which is scarier.

VS: As someone of Armenian descent, the Armenian genocide is clearly something close to your heart. You once stated that the Armenian genocide "is not an abstract, ancient history; it's our present and our daily life.” There remains a pervasive denial in Turkey of the genocide, and Turkish novelists Orhan Pamuk and Elif Shafak have been placed on trial for referencing the genocide in their work. What are your thoughts on the impact of the trials of Elif Shafak and Orhan Pamuk?

Well, it has brought an enormous amount of attention to Turkey and its very restricted and narrow definition of how history should be constructed under article 301 of the Turkish Penal Code [which makes it a crime to "insult Turkish identity"]. Under 301, it is extremely difficult for anyone to speak out in a forceful way about Turkish history and Turkish realities. Orhan Pamuk, of course, is a Nobel Prize winner and very well known. Shafak’s book The Bastard of Istanbul just came out, and there are other books out. There are more and more writers speaking out. This is very, very important because writers occupy a unique place in the cultural life of the community. They simply cannot be dismissed as political hacks or opportunists that are trying to be elected. And so I think things are changing in Turkey. Tragically, it may have taken the assassination of Hrant Dink on January 19 by a Turkish nationalist, a young boy who may or may not have been set up by other forces to do their dirty work, because children (in this case he’s 17) won’t get the death penalty. That’s the speculation. It’s important that Turkey face the past so that it can be in the present and move forward into the future. And it’s important for the Armenians to have recognition and resolution, so that this issue can be closed. It’s just hanging over all of us like a Damocles sword. It’s never resolved; it’s an open wound. In my own family, three of my four grandparents were murdered, and 22 out of 25 members of my mother’s family were killed. We lost everything, and every Armenian in the diaspora has some connection to that genocide, to those events that occurred not just in 1915 but continued right through 1922. Elif Shafak and Orhan Pamuk should be honored and praised for speaking out, speaking the truth.

VS: Why is there such a strong taboo within Turkey against addressing and even acknowledging the genocide?

Turkey has a history of militarism, patriarchy, and machismo, and it seems very difficult for them to acknowledge that this crime occurred. We’re not talking about people today; we’re talking about people 90 years ago. I don’t know why [the taboo exists]. I think it’s a fear; it’s a deep-rooted fear of acknowledging reality, that crimes were committed, and that millions of Armenians were killed, displaced, or converted to Islam. I’ve met people all over Turkey who’ve told me, “Oh, my grandmother was Armenian.” Oh really? How did she become Muslim?

GMS: Let’s talk about the politics of terrorism. Eqbal Ahmad, who was a professor of International Relations and Middle Eastern Studies at Hampshire College in Amherst, observed in an August 1998 interview that “The United States has sowed in the Middle East and South Asia very poisonous seeds. These seeds are growing now. Some have ripened, and others are ripening. An examination of why they were sown, what has grown, and how they should be reaped is needed. Missiles won’t solve the problem.” Would you talk about the dire relevance of his words today in the current “War on Terror” and what this thoughtful analysis means for people and society nine years later?

Well, you see the foresight and prophetic quality of Eqbal Ahmad, who is one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met—very creative, innovative, always looking for alternatives for existing situations and problems. Even while decrying, perhaps, a particular situation, he felt it incumbent on the role of an intellectual to provide alternatives, to provide answers, not just to critique. So that, I think, is very, very valuable. Everything he says in that quote, of course, has come true. The United States, first under Clinton and then under Bush, has militarized the whole issue of terrorism. Terrorism has proliferated under the so-called “War on Terror.” It is now a growing international problem. The 9/11 Commission Report and the Baker-Hamilton Report show that the attack on Iraq—the criminal aggression in Iraq—has greatly exacerbated and emboldened the jihad. The Baker-Hamilton Report calls Iraq the “cause celeb” for jihadis, like it’s some kind of gala spectacle or Hollywood premiere. Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11. Iraq has everything to do with oil. Iraq has everything to do with the Project for the New American Century and the neo-con dream to turn the Middle East into an American link, which they’ve virtually done. The entire region has been militarized. Iran is being threatened with military action. Iran is completely surrounded with U.S. bases. A major U.S. naval armada is right off the coast of Iran. Rhetoric is being ratcheted up, and Iran also had nothing to do with September 11. In fact, they were an ally with the United States. They helped oust the Taliban from Afghanistan. Iran, in the year 2000, almost went to war with the Taliban because Iranian council members were massacred in Mazar-e-Sharif. So how is Bush able to pull this all off? By manipulating the servile support of the U.S. corporate media, which went along with all the lies and became more like stenographers than journalists. They don’t really do journalism.

GMS: I’d like to ask you about that. In an editorial in the London Tribune, in July of 1944, George Orwell observed “the voluntary reticence” in the pathology of the British press, deducing that: “Circus dogs jump when their trainer cracks the whip, but the really well-trained dog is the one that turns his somersault when there is no whip.” I’m very interested in the subtleties of self-censorship, the inducements to which individuals conform to the party line, so to speak. Could you talk about this function, how it is instilled among journalists and in the front lines, in the notion of embedding?

It’s hard to come up with a more Orwellian phrase than “embedded.” In fact, you know, “sleeping with the enemy.” How can you have any distance and objectivity if you’re being protected by the people you’re supposedly covering? Structurally, it just reeks of such an inequality and imbalance that your ability to perform your task as a journalist is severely compromised, so I don’t give it any credibility at all. The whole system of censorship works through a series of perks, and it’s very seductive. If you play ball with power, you will be richly rewarded. Look at Bob Woodward—he lives in a Georgetown townhouse. He’s a millionaire. He’s all over the other corporate media. He’s very successful; when he calls someone, the calls are returned. Thomas Friedman plays golf or tennis with the Secretary of State, and he brags about it. I would be ashamed. I would feel so debased if the Secretary of State even had my telephone number and would invite me to play tennis or golf with him or her. You would have to think, well, what do they want from me? Do they admire me as an independent journalist? Hardly. They want to manipulate and control the news. This is all about spin and propaganda. So the system is very seductive. When you go into the Oval Office and the President greets you by your first name: “Hi Val, how are you? How’s the family? Are you doing OK?” He’s totally briefed on your background and doesn’t know you from Adam or Eve. But you feel that you’re a part of something. And then you’re called on in a press conference: “Yeah, you back there, Gabe, how’s it going?” So you become part of this fraternity, part of a cohort--and it eliminates the possibility to do objective journalism. You’re just a stenographer; you become a court reporter, and that’s what most of the Washington reporters are.

GMS: I’d like to talk about media, propaganda, and the State. In various lectures you’ve cited Reich Marshall Herman Goering: “The people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and then denounce the peacemakers for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country.” It's quite clear that wars of various sorts in our history have been carried out by the media or public relations campaigns inducing consent among public opinion, usually from fear and nationalism.

Let’s talk about the fundamental structure of corporate media in the United States. Under the Nazis, the Ministry for Popular Enlightenment operated as a government department specifically designed for propaganda. But in this society, the government has not the power to control the media and they operate as an independent entity yet function in much the same way as Goering testified.

Well, that’s not entirely true about the electronic media, which is licensed by the federal government. Every TV station, every radio station, does in fact have that structural relationship with the State. Print media are not licensed in the same way that electronic media are. Today, in an age where 80% of Americans get 90% of their news from the electronic media, particularly television, that’s very significant. Ben Bagdikian has tracked the conglomeration, monopolization, and centralization of the media from 50 in 1983 to 5 today. This severely limits the ability of media to provide Americans with a broad range of opinions in order to get information and to understand what’s going on. Instead of having perspectives and views from A to Z, I’ve been saying for years we have perspectives from A to B. But now I’m revising that—it’s more like A to A squared. You get this representative from the Brookings Institute and this representative from the Heritage Foundation, and there’s a so-called debate, but this debate is entirely based on imbedded assumptions, like that the U.S. has the right to attack, invade, and occupy any country in the world. There is no one there challenging that basic imbedded assumption. The media have largely become an apparatus of propaganda.

VS: Due to the American role in the Middle East, the region receives a tremendous amount of coverage within the American media. How can we better understand this role and its subsequent impact on how the region is portrayed?

The idea that the U.S. is even-handed or an honest broker is so incredibly ludicrous and preposterous as to defy any kind of description. We are extremely hostile to Arab nationalism. We’ve done everything possible to crush Arab nationalism, and in fact have supported fundamentalist Muslim organizations. This was particularly true in Egypt, when the U.S. was opposed to Nasser, because Nasser represented an independent force. The U.S. supported Saddam Hussein and helped the Ba’athist coup in 1963 against the nationalist government of Qassim.

There is no area in the world that is more subject to propaganda than the Middle East. There are two reasons for that: one is oil, and the other is Israel. The US expends maximum military and diplomatic support to a country of six million people, completely dwarfing military aid and diplomatic support to any other country on Earth. The other thing is the oil reserves of the region, which the U.S. is obsessed with, and has been since the end of WWII. A State Department document in 1945 described the oil reserves in the Middle East as “the greatest strategic prize in the history of the world.” So Israel has become an attack dog, a land-based aircraft carrier for the United States. U.S. policy has put the residents of Israel in, I think, enormous danger and peril. I think it’s very manipulative, and history shows us that there is no guarantee that this policy will continue in the future. History shows us that those who are weak today will be strong tomorrow. Israel today has maximum military superiority in the Middle East. That’s not a permanent situation.

David Barsamian is the host of nationally syndicated Alternative Radio and the recipient of many honors, including the Upton Sinclair Award, the Rocky Mountain Peace and Justice Center Award, and the Cultural Freedom Fellowship from the Lannan Foundation in Santa Fe. His many published works include Targeting Iran with Noam Chomsky, Ervand Abrahamian, and Nahid Mozaffari, The Future of History with Howard Zinn, The Checkbook and the Cruise Missile with Arundhati Roy, and The Pen and the Sword with Edward Said. His numerous in-depth interviews with Noam Chomsky have sold hundreds of thousands of copies worldwide.