So, for those of you who remember my post about Game Trekking a while back (mentioned in my last post), here's another kickstarter project aimed at uniting art and peacemaking: Tour for Peace. I've had the privilege of knowing one of the violinists (Lauren Manning) since we were kids (and even then we knew how talented she was) and of hearing her perform on multiple occasions. She's spent most of her life in Jordan, and the Arab world, with its conflicts and its joys, is very close to her heart.
Check out their vision. Sponsor if you can.
Showing posts with label peacemaking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peacemaking. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Peace, Pacifism, and the Ordinary Life
Here's a well-articulated reflection on the challenges of personal peace-seeking from my good friend and fellow George Fox graduate, Kohleun:
I think deep down I’ve always been a pacifist. Violence in its many forms has unsettled me since I can remember hearing my older brother report a playground fight at his elementary school, or learning that spouse rape was incontestable in court in one last hold out state until I was six years-old, or seeing footage of the NYC World Trade Center falling to rubble when I was planning to go to the cinema to see The Princess Diaries, or watching George W. Bush blink hard as he reported a declaration of war on terror.
Until I began studying at George Fox University (named after one of the founders of the Society of Friends), pacifism as an identification wasn’t something I understood in a contemporary context. I pictured the “old days” when photos were in black and white and you had to take a side or none at all. Pacifism was something I respected and wanted to embrace, but I imagined one had to be an isolationist or at least a social/political puriya as a consequence. And I did NOT want to wear simple dresses and grow my hair out like in The Angel and the Bad Man.
Then I don’t know when it happened, because there was no aha! moment, just the slow coming to terms, but I began to identify myself with pacifism–with non-violent resistors.
read more . . .
I think deep down I’ve always been a pacifist. Violence in its many forms has unsettled me since I can remember hearing my older brother report a playground fight at his elementary school, or learning that spouse rape was incontestable in court in one last hold out state until I was six years-old, or seeing footage of the NYC World Trade Center falling to rubble when I was planning to go to the cinema to see The Princess Diaries, or watching George W. Bush blink hard as he reported a declaration of war on terror.
Until I began studying at George Fox University (named after one of the founders of the Society of Friends), pacifism as an identification wasn’t something I understood in a contemporary context. I pictured the “old days” when photos were in black and white and you had to take a side or none at all. Pacifism was something I respected and wanted to embrace, but I imagined one had to be an isolationist or at least a social/political puriya as a consequence. And I did NOT want to wear simple dresses and grow my hair out like in The Angel and the Bad Man.
Then I don’t know when it happened, because there was no aha! moment, just the slow coming to terms, but I began to identify myself with pacifism–with non-violent resistors.
read more . . .
Monday, February 7, 2011
"Try peace - you can always go back to war"
Our next stop was with Elias Jabbour of the House of Hope Peace Center in Shefa-'Amr (or Shfar'am; see http://www.middleeastproject.org/house-of-hope-international-pe/).
We enjoyed warm Palestinian hospitality in their home which also serves as the Center, where we shared a meal together and talked about peacemaking.
Elias is 75 years old, and was 13 when the state of Israel was founded and life changed for his family. He founded the House of Hope in 1978, and pursues opportunities to work for peace in relations between Christians, Muslims, Jews, Druze, and all who visit.
He made several noteworthy statements, based on his experience. I relate them, not because they are unique to Elias, but because they are the kind of statements we heard over and over again from a variety of people that we met with, in what adds up - for me - to a chorus of voices bearing witness to how we need to live, how we need to be, if we are going to discover how to live together peacefully in the world.
Some of his statements:
* "Try peace - you can always go back to war. Who knows, you might actually like peace..."
* For peace, we need to learn to enjoy our differences (rather than letting them divide us).
* The problem is, we don't know each other; and as the Arab proverb says, "we are afraid of what we do not know." We need to get to know each other, build relationship. We need to come together, and to listen to each other's narratives.
* To be a peacemaker, you cannot take sides.
* Sharing a meal is making peace.
Our trip was an experience (or a series of experiences) in the process of peacemaking. As a group of outsiders to the area, we had the opportunity of entering into the lives of people we did not know (Muslim, Christian, and Jewish, Israeli and Palestinian), sharing meals with them, listening to their narratives, and beginning to build relationship and gain understanding of different perspectives. Small things, in a way, but potentially powerful steps toward peace.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
The heresy of bumper stickers (or why Abd el-Kader is not like George Washington)
It's been a while. And while there are many thoughts on peace and Otherness floating in my soul (thanks to the writings of Helene Cixous, Virginia Woolf, and so many other feminist writers), I am between lectures, so the thoughts will have to ruminate a while longer.
If you have a minute, however, here's a link to some food for thought: "No Christ. No Peace. Know Christ. Know Peace?" a short reflection by Peace Catalyst International. While I generally agree with the thoughts expressed, I have to say that my ambivalence with the original statement goes beyond that of the blog's writer. It isn't that I disagree that Jesus is "God's Comprehensive Peace Plan," it's just that while the Church (or those who label themselves in the name of the Church) continue to be perpetrators of conflict and supporters of war -- some of the loudest voices in the battle to eradicate "Otherness" from our midsts -- toting such bumper stickers is not just reductionist, it's heretical. And as someone who doesn't actually believe in heresy, let me define my usage as meaning a mis-representation of the call of God in our lives, and our witness to that call. If we can't live the call to peace, writing it on our cars (while simultaneously positing a position that labels "us" as the only possessors of that peace) seems somewhat blasphemous. If we believe that peace is sacred enough to have required the death of God to achieve, doesn't it deserve a bit more respect, as a concept, than being used as a tool for further dividing "us" from "them"?
And on a different note, why, pray tell, would a 19th century Algerian Muslim, responsible for saving thousands of Syrian Christians from massacre, be compared to George Washington?! Who exactly did our first president prevent from being slaughtered? Seems like an example of our overt privileging of Western stories, despite evidence that non-Western histories might supersede them . . . but who wants to admit that an Arab Muslim might have achieved more than one of our illustrious founding fathers?
If you have a minute, however, here's a link to some food for thought: "No Christ. No Peace. Know Christ. Know Peace?" a short reflection by Peace Catalyst International. While I generally agree with the thoughts expressed, I have to say that my ambivalence with the original statement goes beyond that of the blog's writer. It isn't that I disagree that Jesus is "God's Comprehensive Peace Plan," it's just that while the Church (or those who label themselves in the name of the Church) continue to be perpetrators of conflict and supporters of war -- some of the loudest voices in the battle to eradicate "Otherness" from our midsts -- toting such bumper stickers is not just reductionist, it's heretical. And as someone who doesn't actually believe in heresy, let me define my usage as meaning a mis-representation of the call of God in our lives, and our witness to that call. If we can't live the call to peace, writing it on our cars (while simultaneously positing a position that labels "us" as the only possessors of that peace) seems somewhat blasphemous. If we believe that peace is sacred enough to have required the death of God to achieve, doesn't it deserve a bit more respect, as a concept, than being used as a tool for further dividing "us" from "them"?
And on a different note, why, pray tell, would a 19th century Algerian Muslim, responsible for saving thousands of Syrian Christians from massacre, be compared to George Washington?! Who exactly did our first president prevent from being slaughtered? Seems like an example of our overt privileging of Western stories, despite evidence that non-Western histories might supersede them . . . but who wants to admit that an Arab Muslim might have achieved more than one of our illustrious founding fathers?
Monday, August 2, 2010
Game Trekking: traveling (and gaming) towards peace, creativity, and understanding
"As cliché as it sounds, I believe that travel is a metaphor for, and microcosm of, life itself, and that therein lies its value. It's about the exotic, but also about the commonplace; about the new, but also about the old; about seeing and discovering, but also about listening and waiting; about coming into contact with the other and being changed, but also about finding constancy. Always it is about coming to know the world better, and myself." -Jordan Magnuson, "The Journey"
If, as Marvin Olasky suggests, social justice is created from millions of individual acts of relational justice, then maybe global understanding is created from combining millions of moments of individual understanding. Of one person stepping out of his or her comfort zone to encounter the Other.
And encountering the Other is exactly what game designer, Jordan Magnuson, hopes to do. Travel the world, and create computer games (or notgames) about what he sees and experiences. About how he is impacted.
This is something he has already done -- very effectively, I believe -- with such games as Freedom Bridge, inspired by his two years spent living in South Korea. But now he wants to do it on a wider scale, and is asking for your support.
Now, there are many, many reasons that this excites me, but I'm going to share two of them. One, as I have stated elsewhere, I believe in creativity. I believe that creation is, perhaps, the single greatest weapon we have against destruction -- against war, and hatred, and violence. Pacifism is powerful because it requires creative resistance. It requires humanity in the place of barbarism.
I believe that the creative process, even when it isn't used to convey explicitly peace-related themes, helps us retain our humanity and draws us together in community -- the broad community that binds us together as beings who long to communicate, create beauty, and make meaning, and the more specific community of those who have shared a specific experience, whether that experience involves looking at a van Gogh, attending an opera, or playing a computer game. Art binds us together.
Which is why kickstarter (an online site that allows you to contribute directly to creative projects) is so exciting to me. Not only can you be involved in the process of experiencing art, you can actually help create it. You can enable individuals to share their creative visions with you, and with the world.
So I am excited about Game Trekking because it's creative. But I'm also excited about the specific way in which it is creative. I'm excited that it's a project dedicated to encountering and understanding the unknown. I'm excited that Magnuson will have the opportunity to see and listen, to explore and ponder, to change and be changed. I believe that, in itself, is priceless. But it doesn't stop there. What I'm really excited about is that Magnuson, being the artist that he is, will then be able to share those experiences with us. Share them in a way that is deeply impactful, using a medium, travel gaming, that has never been used before.
Now, I will admit that I'm a bit biased when it comes to this particular project, gamemaker, and person. After all, he's one of my favorite people, one of my favorite artists, and one of my favorite thinkers. I find his ideas compelling and his conviction inspiring. He's one of the very few people who has the power, in a 60 minute conversation, to actually change my perspective on a topic, and broaden my worldview.
Magnuson is a person of integrity, living and creating out of a strong sense of necessity, compassion, and humility. So when I tell you that his creative contribution can actually impact the world, I truly, wholeheartedly believe it.
"I want to travel around the world and communicate the things I experience. To help me understand the world better, and maybe, just maybe, to help increase understanding in a broader context. Perhaps that's arrogance, but for me it's hope."
So what are you waiting for? Become a backer. Because choosing peace, creativity, and understanding, even on the small scale, is always a good thing.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Salim Munayer: a man who speaks like Moses
It's about a week since I returned from my recent trip to Israel and the West Bank, and there are so many thoughts I want to share, but it's hard to know where to start.
We met with some amazing people -- powerful peacemakers -- from both sides of the checkpoints. People dedicating their lives to the pursuit of justice, mercy, and transformation.
And I am in awe.
I hope to introduce you to some of my newfound heroes over the course of the next few days and weeks, as well as, perhaps, some of my thoughts and reflections from the time there.
After spending the night with host families in Bethlehem, the first meeting of our trip was in Jerusalem with Salim Munayer, founder of Musalaha, who've I've had the great honor of meeting once before.
The man is a powerful speaker, with a powerful story, and a powerful vision for reconciliation -- a vision he is taking concrete steps to fulfill.
I hope his thoughts challenge you and give you hope.
[Hopefully this won't be too confusing, because the following is taken almost directly out of my notes. However, please remember that this is my interpretation/memory of what Salim said, and not a transcription (I may be a writer, but I am not a journalist), so don't hold him responsible for what I say he said (if that makes sense).]
____________________________
"From the land of strife to the land of reconciliation."
That is Salim Munayer's vision for his country. Reconciliation, he says, is not compromise, and it is not win/lose. It is identity transformation. For identity is the first casualty of conflict -- the destruction of how we see ourselves, how we see God, and how we see others.
The heart of peace is not behavioral change but identity change.
Salim Munayer is a refugee within his own country. Driven from their homes in '48, his family remained in their hometown of Lydda, but was forbidden from returning to their land. Given citizenship by the Israeli government (though initially denied freedom of movement and still denied the right of return), Salim attended a Hebrew high school along with his Jewish neighbors -- a school which informed him that his history was a lie.
Palestine, he was informed, was desert, the Jews turned it green, and then the Arabs moved in. Never mind that he could see his ancestral land from the windows of his classroom.
An Arab-Israeli and a Palestinian-Christian, his identity was in conflict, and he grew up asking the hard questions that his community of faith must still face: What would Jesus do if forced to cross through checkpoints multiple times every day? What application does the Sermon on the Mount have to the Palestinian reality? How does one (especially a Palestinian-Christian) resist aggressively, for justice, in the name of love?. And, hardest thought of all, are Palestinian-Christians (members of the universal body of Christ) an obstacle for the return of their Messiah (as so much Western theology seems to teach)?!
Teaching at Bethlehem Bible College he faced the similar conflict of his students: "We don't want to learn about the people who inflict pain upon us." Spiritual heritage in conflict with cultural heritage. The Bible they loved being used to justify their pain.
Years later, does he have the answers? Perhaps not all, but he believes he has been chosen for this task. Uniquely placed, within the conflict of his identities, to bridge the gap between Arab and Jew, Israeli and Palestinian.
As Christians, he challenges, how do we see God? Burning holiness that demands isolation and perfection? Absolute sovereignty that justifies fatalism and prophetic blindness, without thought to individual responsibility or communal justice? Or do we see the crucified God, the lion and slain lamb, the Christ who wept?
Such a God forbids our involvement as jihadists or modern crusaders. Forbids, also, our allegiance to political agendas which destroy our sacred calling to be salt and light in society, drafted only to the love of God and neighbor.
This is the foundation of peacemaking. And because God is a God of relationship, Salim believes we must build relationships to build peace. Must build relationships to destroy the destructive patterns of conflict:
Salim believes that this desert encounter is integral to the process of reconciliation, because no dominant culture will choose to relinquish power. The desert, however, strips power without the realization of the powerful, forcing people to become dependent on each other as people -- humans in need, not oppressor and oppressed.
We met with some amazing people -- powerful peacemakers -- from both sides of the checkpoints. People dedicating their lives to the pursuit of justice, mercy, and transformation.
And I am in awe.
I hope to introduce you to some of my newfound heroes over the course of the next few days and weeks, as well as, perhaps, some of my thoughts and reflections from the time there.
After spending the night with host families in Bethlehem, the first meeting of our trip was in Jerusalem with Salim Munayer, founder of Musalaha, who've I've had the great honor of meeting once before.
The man is a powerful speaker, with a powerful story, and a powerful vision for reconciliation -- a vision he is taking concrete steps to fulfill.
I hope his thoughts challenge you and give you hope.
[Hopefully this won't be too confusing, because the following is taken almost directly out of my notes. However, please remember that this is my interpretation/memory of what Salim said, and not a transcription (I may be a writer, but I am not a journalist), so don't hold him responsible for what I say he said (if that makes sense).]
____________________________
"From the land of strife to the land of reconciliation."
That is Salim Munayer's vision for his country. Reconciliation, he says, is not compromise, and it is not win/lose. It is identity transformation. For identity is the first casualty of conflict -- the destruction of how we see ourselves, how we see God, and how we see others.
The heart of peace is not behavioral change but identity change.
Salim Munayer is a refugee within his own country. Driven from their homes in '48, his family remained in their hometown of Lydda, but was forbidden from returning to their land. Given citizenship by the Israeli government (though initially denied freedom of movement and still denied the right of return), Salim attended a Hebrew high school along with his Jewish neighbors -- a school which informed him that his history was a lie.
Palestine, he was informed, was desert, the Jews turned it green, and then the Arabs moved in. Never mind that he could see his ancestral land from the windows of his classroom.
An Arab-Israeli and a Palestinian-Christian, his identity was in conflict, and he grew up asking the hard questions that his community of faith must still face: What would Jesus do if forced to cross through checkpoints multiple times every day? What application does the Sermon on the Mount have to the Palestinian reality? How does one (especially a Palestinian-Christian) resist aggressively, for justice, in the name of love?. And, hardest thought of all, are Palestinian-Christians (members of the universal body of Christ) an obstacle for the return of their Messiah (as so much Western theology seems to teach)?!
Teaching at Bethlehem Bible College he faced the similar conflict of his students: "We don't want to learn about the people who inflict pain upon us." Spiritual heritage in conflict with cultural heritage. The Bible they loved being used to justify their pain.
Years later, does he have the answers? Perhaps not all, but he believes he has been chosen for this task. Uniquely placed, within the conflict of his identities, to bridge the gap between Arab and Jew, Israeli and Palestinian.
As Christians, he challenges, how do we see God? Burning holiness that demands isolation and perfection? Absolute sovereignty that justifies fatalism and prophetic blindness, without thought to individual responsibility or communal justice? Or do we see the crucified God, the lion and slain lamb, the Christ who wept?
Such a God forbids our involvement as jihadists or modern crusaders. Forbids, also, our allegiance to political agendas which destroy our sacred calling to be salt and light in society, drafted only to the love of God and neighbor.
This is the foundation of peacemaking. And because God is a God of relationship, Salim believes we must build relationships to build peace. Must build relationships to destroy the destructive patterns of conflict:
- Division between "us" and "them" (self and Other)
- Dehumanization (the necessary step in justifying self-protection against the "enemy")
- Failure to see plurality (all of the Other is exactly alike -- a strong basis for collective punishment, which is considered a war crime)
- Suspicion
- Self-fulfilling prophecy (treating the Other as the enemy leads the Other to behave as the enemy)
- Moral superiority
- Perceived victimization (the dangerous tendency to claim pain as uniquely ours, whether 9/11 or the Holocaust -- the refusal to see suffering as a universal human experience)
- Demonization (attributing absolute evil to the other side -- often uses religious language and labels [i.e. "terrorist"])
Salim believes that this desert encounter is integral to the process of reconciliation, because no dominant culture will choose to relinquish power. The desert, however, strips power without the realization of the powerful, forcing people to become dependent on each other as people -- humans in need, not oppressor and oppressed.
In the Bible, he reminds us, the desert is a place of transformation and renewal. A place where the world fades away and God is met. But it cannot happen without pilgrimage.
He leaves us with some challenging thoughts:
- While peace and reconciliation are happening in Israel on the relational level, where all real change must start, full reconciliation, which must also involve structural change, is stunted by a lack of vision. What is the end goal for Palestine/Israel? What are we struggling for? For S. Africa it was the abolition of apartheid. For the U.S. it was the end of discrimination. What is it for Israel? No one seems quite sure.
- It is not the American Jews (many of whom are actively seeking justice) keeping the U.S. from interceding in Israel, but the American Christians. As an American, and a Christian, this is a sobering, convicting, and painful thought.
- Finally, and most importantly, as third parties who desire to be involved in advocacy -- holding up mirrors to those in power -- we must not allow ourselves to be drafted into the conflict. We must not take sides. Advocacy without reconciliation, states Salim, simply feeds the fire of strife, and that they do not need.
Musalaha: Theology of Reconciliation
Salim Munayer (founder of Musalaha) speaks about reconciliation, the importance of an approach/theology that is both pro-Israeli and pro-Palestinian, and the theological problems when we embrace one at the expense of the other.
Theology of Reconciliation from Porter Speakman Jr on Vimeo.
Theology of Reconciliation from Porter Speakman Jr on Vimeo.
Musalaha: Ministry of Reconciliation
This is a powerful introduction to the work of Musalaha (Arabic for "reconciliation"), a non-profit organization headquartered in Jerusalem that seeks to build relationships between Arab and Jewish youth (among many other leadership and peace building projects). I've had the honor of meeting twice with Musalaha's founder, Salim Munayer, an Israeli Arab with a passionate heart for justice, compassion, and transformation in Israel/Palestine.
The first 2:20 minutes contain true pictures of the conflict (the most startling of which, for me, is at the 2:08 marker); the rest of the film is dedicated to hope.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
The Righteous Among the Nations (or Hope in the Holy Land)
At the moment I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Bethlehem, drinking a cup of coffee and watching the World Cup.
I'm here with a group from my dad's university, doing an "alternative tour," which basically means that instead of the tourist sites, we're here to see the peace and justice sites -- to meet with those working in the areas of reconciliation, non-violent resistance, and human rights.
The trip has been mindblowing.
Yes, I've been in Israel before. Yes, I've been in Bethlehem before. Yes, I've worked in refugee camps. Yes, I've seen the separation barrier. But this is so much more. I've seen the bones and barbed wire of the conflict, but this has been a trip about the living flesh -- the people and organizations dedicating their lives to resolving the deep, complex, and tragic issues facing this region.
I have been challenged, I have been stretched, and I have been encouraged.
Someone asked our group today how we've been responding to what we've seen -- how we're holding up to the weight. For me, the answer is that for the first time in a long time, I have hope.
I don't want to minimize the suffering, injustice, and pain, of which there is much. But at the same time, there seems to be an alternative. Not yet on a national or international level -- and there are still moments where it seems that such a step would be impossible -- but on the personal level, where there are relationships forming, peacemakers coming forth, and whole networks of Palestinian leadership rejecting violence . . . maybe this is a step towards the future.
One of the rabbis we met with (a member of Rabbis for Human Rights) made the statement that if you just know the facts -- what's happening on the ground -- you're going to get bitter and give up hope. We, he said, are not bitter, because we see what's happening, and we've chosen to act. We have hope.
May his hope be ours.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
"The Opposite of War isn't Peace, it's Creation": Computer Games and the Interactive Process
My brother is a game designer and critic who believes that computer games are the next great artistic frontier.
There are many reasons why this concept fascinates me. As someone who's interested in the power of creation as opposed to destruction, there is something deeply intriguing about a medium that is by default interactive, requiring both the maker and the player to engage in the creative process.
In literary criticism, we often discuss the idea of the reader as a co-creator with the author, for the reader's interpretation shapes the imaginative reality of a text, some would argue, as significantly as the author's words. Interactive art, however, takes this idea to the next level, creating a reality that is blatantly dependent on the involvement of both the designer and the player.
In some senses, there can be no passive game players. Such a paradox defies the rules of the game's own medium.
What is the point of all of this in the context of peacemaking? I'm still trying to figure that out.
But I think there are hints in Esquire's 2008 article on game designer Jason Rohrer, titled "The Video-Game Programmer Saving Our 21st-Century Souls," the subscript of which reads, "Jason Rohrer's solitary and stubborn quest for a future in which pixels and code and computers will make you cry and feel and love."
And there are hints in Adam Cadre's 1998 interactive fiction, Photopia.
And perhaps there are hints (though I'm sure he would deny it) in my brother's recently developed game about terrorist hunting. A game which ends with Noam Chomsky's words, "Everybody's worried about stopping terrorism. Well, there's a really easy way: stop participating in it."
There are many reasons why this concept fascinates me. As someone who's interested in the power of creation as opposed to destruction, there is something deeply intriguing about a medium that is by default interactive, requiring both the maker and the player to engage in the creative process.
In literary criticism, we often discuss the idea of the reader as a co-creator with the author, for the reader's interpretation shapes the imaginative reality of a text, some would argue, as significantly as the author's words. Interactive art, however, takes this idea to the next level, creating a reality that is blatantly dependent on the involvement of both the designer and the player.
In some senses, there can be no passive game players. Such a paradox defies the rules of the game's own medium.
What is the point of all of this in the context of peacemaking? I'm still trying to figure that out.
But I think there are hints in Esquire's 2008 article on game designer Jason Rohrer, titled "The Video-Game Programmer Saving Our 21st-Century Souls," the subscript of which reads, "Jason Rohrer's solitary and stubborn quest for a future in which pixels and code and computers will make you cry and feel and love."
And there are hints in Adam Cadre's 1998 interactive fiction, Photopia.
And perhaps there are hints (though I'm sure he would deny it) in my brother's recently developed game about terrorist hunting. A game which ends with Noam Chomsky's words, "Everybody's worried about stopping terrorism. Well, there's a really easy way: stop participating in it."
Sunday, January 24, 2010
President Obama, the Nobel Prize, and Nonviolent Resistance: A Critique
President Obama's Nobel Peace Prize is old news now, but I found this article to be an interesting critique of the president's acceptance speech (and a powerful argument for the tangible benefits of non-violent peacemaking).
Published on Friday, December 18, 2009 by Foreign Policy in Focus
A Lesson on Nonviolence for the President
by Eric Stoner
In Oslo last week, President Barack Obama ironically used his acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize to deliver a lengthy defense of the "just war" theory and dismiss the idea that nonviolence is capable of addressing the world's most pressing problems.
After quoting Martin Luther King Jr. and giving his respects to Gandhi — two figures that Obama has repeatedly called personal heroes — the new peace laureate argued that he "cannot be guided by their examples alone" in his role as a head of state.
"I face the world as it is, and cannot stand idle in the face of threats to the American people," he continued. "For make no mistake: Evil does exist in the world. A nonviolent movement could not have halted Hitler's armies. Negotiations cannot convince al-Qaeda's leaders to lay down their arms. To say that force may sometimes be necessary is not a call to cynicism — it is a recognition of history; the imperfections of man and the limits of reason."
Unfortunately, this key part of Obama's speech, which the media widely quoted in its coverage of the award ceremony, contains several logical inconsistencies and historical inaccuracies that tragically reveal Obama's profound ignorance of nonviolent alternatives to the use of military force.
The Power of Nonviolence
Almost immediately after acknowledging that there is "nothing weak — nothing passive — nothing naïve — in the creed and lives of Gandhi and King," Obama equated nonviolence with doing nothing.
To live and act nonviolently, however, never involves standing "idle in the face of threats." Dorothy Day, Cesar Chavez, Dave Dellinger, Daniel and Philip Berrigan, and countless other genuine peacemakers have put their lives on the line in the struggle for a more just world. Advocates of nonviolence, like Gandhi, simply believe that means and ends are inseparable – that responding in kind to an aggressor will only continue the cycle of violence.
"Destructive means cannot bring constructive ends, because the means represent the ideal-in-the-making and the end-in-progress," Martin Luther King explains in his book Strength to Love. "Immoral means cannot bring moral ends, for the ends are pre-existent in the means."
Therefore, to put it bluntly, it's impossible to create a world that truly respects life with fists, guns, and bombs. As A.J. Muste, a longtime leader of the labor, civil rights, and antiwar movements, famously said: "There is no way to peace — peace is the way."
Using a broad array of tactics — including strikes, boycotts, sit-ins, and protests — nonviolent movements have not only gained important rights for millions of oppressed people around the world, they have confronted, and successfully brought down, some of the most ruthless regimes of the last 100 years.
The courageous, everyday citizens who spoke out and took to the streets to stop the murderous reigns of General Augusto Pinochet in Chile, Ferdinand Marcos in the Philippines, and Slobodan Milosevic in Serbia, to name only a few examples from recent decades, were anything but passive in the face of evil.
Moreover, these incredible victories for nonviolence were not flukes. After analyzing 323 resistance campaigns over the last century, one important study published last year in the journal International Security, found that "major nonviolent campaigns have achieved success 53 percent of the time, compared with 26 percent for violent resistance campaigns."
Victories Against Hitler
Contrary to Obama's speech and the dominant narrative about World War II, nonviolent movements in several different European countries were also remarkably successful in thwarting the Nazis.
In 1943, for instance, when the order finally came to round up the nearly 8,000 Jews in Denmark, Danes spontaneously hid them in their homes, hospitals, and other public institutions over the span of one night. Then, at great personal risk to those involved, a secret network of fishing vessels successfully ferried almost their entire Jewish population to neutral Sweden. The Nazis captures only 481 Jews, and thanks to continued Danish pressure, nearly 90% of those deported to the Theresienstadt concentration camp survived the war.
In Bulgaria, important leaders of the Orthodox Church, along with farmers in the northern stretches of the country, threatened to lie across railroad tracks to prevent Jews from being deported. This popular pressure emboldened the Bulgarian parliament to resist the Nazis, who eventually rescinded the deportation order, saving almost all of the country's 48,000 Jews.
Even in Norway, where Obama accepted the peace prize, there was significant nonviolent resistance during the Second World War. When the Nazi-appointed Prime Minister Vidkun Quisling ordered teachers to teach fascism, an estimated 10,000 of the country's 12,000 teachers refused. A campaign of intimidation — which included sending over 1,000 male teachers to jails, concentration camps, and forced labor camps north of the Arctic Circle — failed to break the will of the teachers and sparked growing resentment throughout the country. After eight months, Quisling backed down and the teachers came home victorious.
Alternatives to the War on Terror
Obama's rejection of negotiations as a possible solution to terrorism also doesn't square with the evidence. After analyzing hundreds of terrorist groups that have operated over the last 40 years, a RAND corporation study published last year concluded that military force is almost never successful at stopping terrorism. The vast majority of terrorist groups that ended during that period "were penetrated and eliminated by local police and intelligence agencies (40%), or they reached a peaceful political accommodation with their government (43%)." In other words, negotiation is clearly possible.
For his book, Dying to Win: The Strategic Logic of Suicide Terrorism, University of Chicago professor Robert Pape created a database on every suicide bombing from 1980 to 2004. Pape found that, rather than being driven by religion, the vast majority of suicide bombers — responsible for over 95% of all incidents on record — were primarily motivated by a desire to compel a democratic government to withdraw its military forces from land they saw as their homeland.
"Since suicide terrorism is mainly a response to foreign occupation and not Islamic fundamentalism," Pape said in an interview with The American Conservative, "the use of heavy military force to transform Muslim societies over there, if you would, is only likely to increase the number of suicide terrorists coming at us."
Apart from pulling U.S. troops out of the Middle East, calling off the deadly campaign of drone attacks, and ending military, economic, and diplomatic support for repressive regimes in the region, how can the threat of terrorism be best minimized? A recent article in the Independent by Johann Hari may provide an answer.
Through interviews with 17 radical Islamic ex-jihadis over the course of a year, Hari discovered that they all told strikingly similar stories about what drew them to extremism, and what eventually got them out. They all felt alienated growing up in Britain, and connected their personal experiences to the persecution of Muslims around the world. In most cases, however, coming into contact with Westerners who took the values of democracy and human rights seriously, opposed the wars against Muslim countries, and engaged in ordinary acts of kindness first made them question whether they were on the right path.
As I silently carried a cardboard coffin from the UN headquarters in New York to the military recruiting center in Times Square during a protest on the day of Obama's speech, I couldn't help but cringe to think of the president justifying the deployment of 30,000 more troops to the "graveyard of empires." Every nonviolent alternative has not been exhausted. In reality, they have yet to be tried.
________________________________________
Eric Stoner is a freelance writer based in New York and a contributor to Foreign Policy In Focus. His articles have appeared in The Nation, NACLA Report on the Americas, and the Indypendent.
Published on Friday, December 18, 2009 by Foreign Policy in Focus
A Lesson on Nonviolence for the President
by Eric Stoner
In Oslo last week, President Barack Obama ironically used his acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize to deliver a lengthy defense of the "just war" theory and dismiss the idea that nonviolence is capable of addressing the world's most pressing problems.
After quoting Martin Luther King Jr. and giving his respects to Gandhi — two figures that Obama has repeatedly called personal heroes — the new peace laureate argued that he "cannot be guided by their examples alone" in his role as a head of state.
"I face the world as it is, and cannot stand idle in the face of threats to the American people," he continued. "For make no mistake: Evil does exist in the world. A nonviolent movement could not have halted Hitler's armies. Negotiations cannot convince al-Qaeda's leaders to lay down their arms. To say that force may sometimes be necessary is not a call to cynicism — it is a recognition of history; the imperfections of man and the limits of reason."
Unfortunately, this key part of Obama's speech, which the media widely quoted in its coverage of the award ceremony, contains several logical inconsistencies and historical inaccuracies that tragically reveal Obama's profound ignorance of nonviolent alternatives to the use of military force.
The Power of Nonviolence
Almost immediately after acknowledging that there is "nothing weak — nothing passive — nothing naïve — in the creed and lives of Gandhi and King," Obama equated nonviolence with doing nothing.
To live and act nonviolently, however, never involves standing "idle in the face of threats." Dorothy Day, Cesar Chavez, Dave Dellinger, Daniel and Philip Berrigan, and countless other genuine peacemakers have put their lives on the line in the struggle for a more just world. Advocates of nonviolence, like Gandhi, simply believe that means and ends are inseparable – that responding in kind to an aggressor will only continue the cycle of violence.
"Destructive means cannot bring constructive ends, because the means represent the ideal-in-the-making and the end-in-progress," Martin Luther King explains in his book Strength to Love. "Immoral means cannot bring moral ends, for the ends are pre-existent in the means."
Therefore, to put it bluntly, it's impossible to create a world that truly respects life with fists, guns, and bombs. As A.J. Muste, a longtime leader of the labor, civil rights, and antiwar movements, famously said: "There is no way to peace — peace is the way."
Using a broad array of tactics — including strikes, boycotts, sit-ins, and protests — nonviolent movements have not only gained important rights for millions of oppressed people around the world, they have confronted, and successfully brought down, some of the most ruthless regimes of the last 100 years.
The courageous, everyday citizens who spoke out and took to the streets to stop the murderous reigns of General Augusto Pinochet in Chile, Ferdinand Marcos in the Philippines, and Slobodan Milosevic in Serbia, to name only a few examples from recent decades, were anything but passive in the face of evil.
Moreover, these incredible victories for nonviolence were not flukes. After analyzing 323 resistance campaigns over the last century, one important study published last year in the journal International Security, found that "major nonviolent campaigns have achieved success 53 percent of the time, compared with 26 percent for violent resistance campaigns."
Victories Against Hitler
Contrary to Obama's speech and the dominant narrative about World War II, nonviolent movements in several different European countries were also remarkably successful in thwarting the Nazis.
In 1943, for instance, when the order finally came to round up the nearly 8,000 Jews in Denmark, Danes spontaneously hid them in their homes, hospitals, and other public institutions over the span of one night. Then, at great personal risk to those involved, a secret network of fishing vessels successfully ferried almost their entire Jewish population to neutral Sweden. The Nazis captures only 481 Jews, and thanks to continued Danish pressure, nearly 90% of those deported to the Theresienstadt concentration camp survived the war.
In Bulgaria, important leaders of the Orthodox Church, along with farmers in the northern stretches of the country, threatened to lie across railroad tracks to prevent Jews from being deported. This popular pressure emboldened the Bulgarian parliament to resist the Nazis, who eventually rescinded the deportation order, saving almost all of the country's 48,000 Jews.
Even in Norway, where Obama accepted the peace prize, there was significant nonviolent resistance during the Second World War. When the Nazi-appointed Prime Minister Vidkun Quisling ordered teachers to teach fascism, an estimated 10,000 of the country's 12,000 teachers refused. A campaign of intimidation — which included sending over 1,000 male teachers to jails, concentration camps, and forced labor camps north of the Arctic Circle — failed to break the will of the teachers and sparked growing resentment throughout the country. After eight months, Quisling backed down and the teachers came home victorious.
Alternatives to the War on Terror
Obama's rejection of negotiations as a possible solution to terrorism also doesn't square with the evidence. After analyzing hundreds of terrorist groups that have operated over the last 40 years, a RAND corporation study published last year concluded that military force is almost never successful at stopping terrorism. The vast majority of terrorist groups that ended during that period "were penetrated and eliminated by local police and intelligence agencies (40%), or they reached a peaceful political accommodation with their government (43%)." In other words, negotiation is clearly possible.
For his book, Dying to Win: The Strategic Logic of Suicide Terrorism, University of Chicago professor Robert Pape created a database on every suicide bombing from 1980 to 2004. Pape found that, rather than being driven by religion, the vast majority of suicide bombers — responsible for over 95% of all incidents on record — were primarily motivated by a desire to compel a democratic government to withdraw its military forces from land they saw as their homeland.
"Since suicide terrorism is mainly a response to foreign occupation and not Islamic fundamentalism," Pape said in an interview with The American Conservative, "the use of heavy military force to transform Muslim societies over there, if you would, is only likely to increase the number of suicide terrorists coming at us."
Apart from pulling U.S. troops out of the Middle East, calling off the deadly campaign of drone attacks, and ending military, economic, and diplomatic support for repressive regimes in the region, how can the threat of terrorism be best minimized? A recent article in the Independent by Johann Hari may provide an answer.
Through interviews with 17 radical Islamic ex-jihadis over the course of a year, Hari discovered that they all told strikingly similar stories about what drew them to extremism, and what eventually got them out. They all felt alienated growing up in Britain, and connected their personal experiences to the persecution of Muslims around the world. In most cases, however, coming into contact with Westerners who took the values of democracy and human rights seriously, opposed the wars against Muslim countries, and engaged in ordinary acts of kindness first made them question whether they were on the right path.
As I silently carried a cardboard coffin from the UN headquarters in New York to the military recruiting center in Times Square during a protest on the day of Obama's speech, I couldn't help but cringe to think of the president justifying the deployment of 30,000 more troops to the "graveyard of empires." Every nonviolent alternative has not been exhausted. In reality, they have yet to be tried.
________________________________________
Eric Stoner is a freelance writer based in New York and a contributor to Foreign Policy In Focus. His articles have appeared in The Nation, NACLA Report on the Americas, and the Indypendent.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Philosophical Inquiry
At its core, peacemaking is about presence. About two people encountering each other as human.
This is a reminder of why we live. And what we live for.
you are doing, my love—
how time, a distant relative,
has sketched your face
in lines and circles,
how you see the world
when your eyes are shut
and you are sleeping,
consciousness only memory,
or how you fill space
with your body, moving
past wholes and halves
of steps towards me,
this moment a justified belief.
-Kohleun Seo
This is a reminder of why we live. And what we live for.
Philosophical Inquiry
I just want to know howyou are doing, my love—
how time, a distant relative,
has sketched your face
in lines and circles,
how you see the world
when your eyes are shut
and you are sleeping,
consciousness only memory,
or how you fill space
with your body, moving
past wholes and halves
of steps towards me,
this moment a justified belief.
-Kohleun Seo
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Gandhi and the Dialectic Process of Nonviolence
"I am prepared to die, but there is no cause for which I am prepared to kill. I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary; the evil it does is permanent."
-Mohandas Gandhi
I was reading something recently that discussed different ways of knowing truth, or coming to an understanding/decision about what one will believe to be true. The article looked at several different "truth finding" techniques or mediums. One such technique was rhetoric—not the art of rhetoric, but the setting/environment. The idea being that when rhetoric clashes with different rhetoric (in a courtroom, for instance) the truth comes into focus (at least to a greater degree): "skilled adversaries trying to be persuasive will generate powerful light on the truth." This process is, of course, an example of dialectic discourse: a thesis opposed by an antithesis, merging into synthesis (which, hopefully, is closer to truth than either the thesis or antithesis on its own).
The reason I bring this up here (as random as it seems) is that the author used Gandhi as an example of this technique. He argued that Gandhi was a proponent of active nonviolence because he viewed reconciliation as a way to achieve synthesis between the two sides of a conflict. In other words, it was the most "truthful" way to resolve difference — a path that would actually lead humanity forward into greater reality: "Gandhi advocated nonviolence in large part to avoid succumbing to the temptation to destroy one's opponents and thus remove the creative tension so crucial to the dialectic process."
I find this interesting, for though I'm incredibly committed to nonviolent resistance for multiple ethical reasons (and believe that Gandhi was too), I like the idea that it's also the path for those of us seeking intellectual integrity. Those of us searching for the truth amidst the madness.
(The article, which was part of a larger work, was "Knowing the Truth: Rhetoric" by Ron Mock)
-Mohandas Gandhi
I was reading something recently that discussed different ways of knowing truth, or coming to an understanding/decision about what one will believe to be true. The article looked at several different "truth finding" techniques or mediums. One such technique was rhetoric—not the art of rhetoric, but the setting/environment. The idea being that when rhetoric clashes with different rhetoric (in a courtroom, for instance) the truth comes into focus (at least to a greater degree): "skilled adversaries trying to be persuasive will generate powerful light on the truth." This process is, of course, an example of dialectic discourse: a thesis opposed by an antithesis, merging into synthesis (which, hopefully, is closer to truth than either the thesis or antithesis on its own).
The reason I bring this up here (as random as it seems) is that the author used Gandhi as an example of this technique. He argued that Gandhi was a proponent of active nonviolence because he viewed reconciliation as a way to achieve synthesis between the two sides of a conflict. In other words, it was the most "truthful" way to resolve difference — a path that would actually lead humanity forward into greater reality: "Gandhi advocated nonviolence in large part to avoid succumbing to the temptation to destroy one's opponents and thus remove the creative tension so crucial to the dialectic process."
I find this interesting, for though I'm incredibly committed to nonviolent resistance for multiple ethical reasons (and believe that Gandhi was too), I like the idea that it's also the path for those of us seeking intellectual integrity. Those of us searching for the truth amidst the madness.
(The article, which was part of a larger work, was "Knowing the Truth: Rhetoric" by Ron Mock)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Interview with Philip Rizk
Today is Philip Rizk's 27th birthday. Before celebrating with family and friends, he met with journalists to describe his four days in Egyptian detainment.
The full transcription of the interview can be found here.
He was threatened with torture, and informed that if he “continue[d] on this track” (his activism in regards to Gaza, assumedly) he would be “visiting [his interrogators] quite often.”
However, Rizk maintains that this is an insufficient reason to cease acting on behalf of Gaza: “I always knew there was the risk living in Egypt . . . to be involved in these kind of activities,” he said. “So you know there's a risk if you speak out too much; you know there's a risk.”
C.S. Lewis once claimed that those who would make peace in non-violent ways (the so-called "pacifists" of the world) were ultimately cowards at heart. I must humbly (but passionately) disagree. If it's courage that we need, I want the courage, not to point a gun at my enemy (or my friend's enemy), but to suffer at thier hands, and still speak on behalf of justice. To risk recrimination, to risk violence and suffering, and to never be silenced. I want the courage of Jesus, and Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr.
And yes, I want the courage of Philip Rizk.
The full transcription of the interview can be found here.
He was threatened with torture, and informed that if he “continue[d] on this track” (his activism in regards to Gaza, assumedly) he would be “visiting [his interrogators] quite often.”
However, Rizk maintains that this is an insufficient reason to cease acting on behalf of Gaza: “I always knew there was the risk living in Egypt . . . to be involved in these kind of activities,” he said. “So you know there's a risk if you speak out too much; you know there's a risk.”
C.S. Lewis once claimed that those who would make peace in non-violent ways (the so-called "pacifists" of the world) were ultimately cowards at heart. I must humbly (but passionately) disagree. If it's courage that we need, I want the courage, not to point a gun at my enemy (or my friend's enemy), but to suffer at thier hands, and still speak on behalf of justice. To risk recrimination, to risk violence and suffering, and to never be silenced. I want the courage of Jesus, and Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr.
And yes, I want the courage of Philip Rizk.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Philip Rizk, Journalist and Activist, Abducted
At 8:00pm on Friday, February 6th, Philip Rizk, a German-Egyptian graduate student, activist, and blogger (Tabula Gaza), was abducted by Egyptian national security. Fourteen others were detained; all but Philip have been released.
Philip was taken while participating in a solidarity march for Gaza. His blog reads:
Security originally denied having arrested Philip. They have now confirmed that he is being held, but refuse to comment on his whereabouts or status.
His family has started a facebook group to raise awareness and gather support: Support and Prayer for the Safe Release of Philip Rizk. Join your voice to theirs.
Philip was taken while participating in a solidarity march for Gaza. His blog reads:
In commemoration of the breaching of the Rafah border between Gaza and Egypt one year ago on January 23rd, 2008 the Egyptian Popular Committee in Solidarity with The Palestinian People is calling for a MARCH TO GAZA.
On December 27th, 2008 Israel started a horrific bloodbath in Gaza eventually killing almost 1500 Palestinians, including 410 children and injuring thousands. Israel’s ensuing military onslaught destroyed homes, schools, places of worship, and essential infrastructure leading to a humanitarian catastrophe. These attacks are exacerbated by Israel’s ongoing siege, which leaves the Palestinian people in Gaza prisoners within Israeli created borders and dependent on the trickle of supplies that its occupier allows in.
The Call:
End the Siege on Gaza.
The Vision:
We hope for the call to spread organically, to look different in different places around the world. Whether a defined distance is walked, a specific number of people participate or the march is carried out individually, whether calling for boycott or trying Israel for war crimes we are hoping that such efforts will pick up momentum and increase.
Though the immediate Israeli military onslaught on Gaza- for the time being- has come to a standstill this is not a solution. Let us seize this time of urgency to act and call for an end to siege on Gaza. Though our respective governments reject expressing our resistance to the status quo we- the multitude- must move to the streets, as a collective global expression in condemnation of Israel’s actions.
The Egypt group will march on Gaza from multiple locations starting February 6th.
Follow all events at: www.togaza.net.
His family has started a facebook group to raise awareness and gather support: Support and Prayer for the Safe Release of Philip Rizk. Join your voice to theirs.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
the stonecutter's wife: a life in poetry
This is maybe my favorite of Kohleun's poems. The reasons are many. For one, I was with her when she met this family in Bethlehem, and her words call the experience to mind with a clarity that is sacred in its power. There was so much beauty in that home. So much hope. And yet, at the same time, so much pain. The courage of this woman and her family -- to create beauty in the face of violence -- will always awe me. She is the person, the peacemaker, that I want to be.
I posted my reflection on the experience (in prose poetry) a couple of months ago: Bethlehem: the things that made me cry [the stonecutter's family]
I posted my reflection on the experience (in prose poetry) a couple of months ago: Bethlehem: the things that made me cry [the stonecutter's family]
Rebuilding
life
stone
earth
one we carve
to build upon
the other
each boulder
by hand
and lay it
piece by piece
together
my husband
and I
there was a time when this all laid flat against the earth
when bulldozers ripped the house apart, twice
nothing as gentle as piece by piece
no patient sculpture’s mallet and chisel
One by one, they take my boys from me
a soldier their same age will go home
and tell his mother about capturing another
Palestinian threat, and she will thank God he is safe
and I will sit here
in my house of stone
preparing for
lives of my life
who have not returned
five hundred years?
I will wait that long
unto death?
I will rebuild
something beautiful
out of rubble
serve them tea
in clear glass
with sugar
and mint
I will stir it slowly
-Kohleun A. Seo
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Facebook, Nonviolence, and the Holy Land Trust
Speaking of MLK and nonviolence, the Holy Land Trust, a Palestinian non-profit organization centered on community building and nonviolent resistance in Bethlehem, now has a facebook group.
Tell your friends.
Tell your friends.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Yesterday was a day devoted to the celebration of the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
In honor of the Civil Rights Movement, and King's invaluable contributions to the cause of nonviolent resistance, I would ask that you take the time to read MLK's Letter from Birmingham Jail. King was a powerful thinker, a powerful writer, and a powerful prophet -- for his time and ours.
As I think of the situation in Palestine and Israel -- or contemplate the reality of oppression and war in our world as a whole -- so many of King's words resonate within me.
Why am I in Birmingham? he asks. "I am in Birmingham because injustice is here."
"Moreover, I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states . . . Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly."
About nonviolence, he says: "We had no alternative except to prepare for direct action, whereby we would present our very bodies as a means of laying our case before the conscience of the local and national community . . . You may well ask: 'Why direct action? Isn't negotiations a better path?' You are quite right in calling for negotiation. Indeed, this is the very purpose of direct action. Nonviolent direct action seeks to created such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks so to dramatize the issue that it can no longer be ignored."
"We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed . . . 'Justice too long delayed is justice denied.' There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair."
"One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws."
"Segregation, to use the terminology of the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber, substitutes an I-it" relationship for an "I-though" relationship and ends up relegating persons to the status of things . . . Paul Tillich said that sin is separation. Is not segregation an existential expression 'of man's tragic separation, his awful estrangement, his terrible sinfulness'?"
"An unjust law is a code that a numerical or power majority group compels a minority group to obey but does not make binding on itself. This is difference made legal."
"Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men [and women] willing to be co-workers with God . . . We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity."
"Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever."
"Was not Jesus an extremist for love? Was not Amos an extremist for justice? Was not Paul . . . Luther . . . Bunyan . . . Lincoln . . . [and] Jefferson? So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremist for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? The world [is] in dire need of creative extremists."
"Whenever the early Christians entered a town, the people in power became disturbed and immediately sought to convict the Christians for being 'disturbers of the peace' and 'outside agitators.' But the Christians pressed on, in the conviction that they were 'a colony of heaven,' called to obey God rather than man. Small in number they were big in commitment. They were too God intoxicated to be 'astronomically intimidated'."
"Things are different now. So often the contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. So often it is an arch-defender of the status quo. Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church's silent and often even vocal sanction of things as they are."
He ends with a eulogy to the American values of justice, equality, and freedom. He calls these values "the sacred heritage of our nation." A heritage he sees threatened by the complacency of Americans towards injustice, segregation, and bondage.
Are we the nation we claim to be? Is this our heritage? And, if so, can we regain it?
President Obama has been inaugurated. Change is in the air. Shall justice be restored?
In honor of the Civil Rights Movement, and King's invaluable contributions to the cause of nonviolent resistance, I would ask that you take the time to read MLK's Letter from Birmingham Jail. King was a powerful thinker, a powerful writer, and a powerful prophet -- for his time and ours.
As I think of the situation in Palestine and Israel -- or contemplate the reality of oppression and war in our world as a whole -- so many of King's words resonate within me.
Why am I in Birmingham? he asks. "I am in Birmingham because injustice is here."
"Moreover, I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states . . . Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly."
About nonviolence, he says: "We had no alternative except to prepare for direct action, whereby we would present our very bodies as a means of laying our case before the conscience of the local and national community . . . You may well ask: 'Why direct action? Isn't negotiations a better path?' You are quite right in calling for negotiation. Indeed, this is the very purpose of direct action. Nonviolent direct action seeks to created such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks so to dramatize the issue that it can no longer be ignored."
"We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed . . . 'Justice too long delayed is justice denied.' There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair."
"One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws."
"Segregation, to use the terminology of the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber, substitutes an I-it" relationship for an "I-though" relationship and ends up relegating persons to the status of things . . . Paul Tillich said that sin is separation. Is not segregation an existential expression 'of man's tragic separation, his awful estrangement, his terrible sinfulness'?"
"An unjust law is a code that a numerical or power majority group compels a minority group to obey but does not make binding on itself. This is difference made legal."
"Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men [and women] willing to be co-workers with God . . . We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity."
"Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever."
"Was not Jesus an extremist for love? Was not Amos an extremist for justice? Was not Paul . . . Luther . . . Bunyan . . . Lincoln . . . [and] Jefferson? So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremist for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? The world [is] in dire need of creative extremists."
"Whenever the early Christians entered a town, the people in power became disturbed and immediately sought to convict the Christians for being 'disturbers of the peace' and 'outside agitators.' But the Christians pressed on, in the conviction that they were 'a colony of heaven,' called to obey God rather than man. Small in number they were big in commitment. They were too God intoxicated to be 'astronomically intimidated'."
"Things are different now. So often the contemporary church is a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound. So often it is an arch-defender of the status quo. Far from being disturbed by the presence of the church, the power structure of the average community is consoled by the church's silent and often even vocal sanction of things as they are."
He ends with a eulogy to the American values of justice, equality, and freedom. He calls these values "the sacred heritage of our nation." A heritage he sees threatened by the complacency of Americans towards injustice, segregation, and bondage.
Are we the nation we claim to be? Is this our heritage? And, if so, can we regain it?
President Obama has been inaugurated. Change is in the air. Shall justice be restored?
Monday, August 11, 2008
A Letter to the President of the United States: Regarding the Middle East and Israel
One of my best friends, and favorite poets, recently visited me in Amman, Jordan, gathering research for a Richter's Grant on poetry and peace. During her six-week stay we traveled extensively in Jordan, as well as visiting Bethlehem and Jerusalem (the inspiration for much of my recent blogging). She is keeping a record of some of her thoughts on the experience (as well as her musings on poetry and poets) on one of her blogsites: From Here to There and (Maybe) Back Again. Her other site, devoted entirely to her poetry, is Poems From a Small Place, which I would highly recommend. As I've mentioned before, she tends to focus on the small details of peace and life -- of being and becoming.
This poem is one of her recent ones -- a reflection on her time in the Middle East -- and is posted on From Here to There. Please don't let the length deter you (especially if you don't tend to be a huge fan of poetry); I assure you it is well worth the read.
A Letter to the President of the United States
To the President of the United States:
I am not a politician, or an official diplomat.
I am a university student, a philosopher, a poet,
a theologian, a woman, a novice world traveler,
a feminist, a peacemaker.
I love God, most of the time, and at others, do not know
how to love God, but like any honest
theologian, I must admit I often do not understand
what she/he has in mind for this world,
a world that is both beautiful and broken.
People do many things in the name of “God”
that I also do not understand. Contradiction
is everywhere. And Jesus, let’s not get started
on the things people say about Jesus. I believe
he was God and human, but schizophrenic? Well,
it’s possible. I find it dangerous to talk about
what Jesus could or could not be.
But enough about theology and those confusions.
I recently traveled to the Middle East. My goal
was to speak with women, hear their stories, see
their faces. And from that, write poems about their lives
in their voices, about their homes, their families, their
thoughts, their struggles, their power. Some of these women
were of Jordanian heritage, one an Iraqi, a couple more
Lebanese, most were Palestinian, forced from their homes
and welcomed by Jordan, but Jordan is a small country.
For five and a half weeks, I was based in Amman, and traveled
for too short a time to Jerusalem and Bethlehem.
Do you want to know why? Because of peace.
I am sure, Mr. President, that you know Jerusalem
is in Israel, and Bethlehem is in the West Bank.
I am sure you also know the United States gives a disproportionate
amount of funds to the Israeli government to use to their “benefit.”
I think it’s great to live in a country that helps others.
A country that makes friends of other countries.
But true friends hold each other accountable.
True friends do not let each other do harm.
True friends stay close, and ask questions.
True friends treat each other as equals, not spoiled children.
And I mean no disrespect,
but after my visit, I am sure you do not know these women’s
stories. You do not know their land or their voices,
their struggles, their thoughts, their homes,
their families, their power. You do not know Palestinians.
You do not know hot tea with mint, directions from a kind stranger,
breakfast and lunch that could make you pop—all daily
occurrences, not rare kind Arabs. Normal kind Arabs, who are pained
by their rare, violent cousins.
You do not know the empty streets of Bethlehem,
fresh plums—a gift—from a woman in the market whose land
has been taken from her. I am sure, though, you know who
took it. You do not know the horror of a checkpoint gate, the wall,
or how long six hours waiting at the Israel border for wanting to
visit Bethlehem feels. You do not know the humiliation
human beings suffer every day. You do not know the inequity.
You do not know how closely refugee camps resemble the ghettos
of Eastern Europe during the Holocaust of WWII,
how much hurt the Israelis are still facing, and how much healing
I wish I could bring them. You do not know how they remind me
of children who grew up with abusive parents, vowing to never
be like that, but who bruise and batter their children. When they are old,
they cry themselves to sleep, and whisper prayers of regret.
Their children cry too.
Mr. President, do you want to know why I believe you
do not know these things?
Because if you did, if you knew them, they would be different.
You would be different.
Knowing details makes peace possible. Our enemies become
neighbors. People have faces that cannot be blown up.
I do not know your reasons for aiding Israel with such gusto.
Perhaps you wish to help God’s “chosen” people. But aren’t we all?
Perhaps you want to make up for America’s late entry into WWII,
and the masses of human beings with families and wishes who
should not have been treated as they were. But is this the way to do that?
Won’t our next generation have a debt to pay the Palestinians?
Perhaps you want Americans to feel safe from Arabs. But aren’t we
more afraid?
Again, I do not know, and I am sure it is complicated.
Perhaps we should make it simple again.
I will make a few things
simple for you.
I do not support any violence Palestinians inflict, on anyone.
I do not support any violence Israelis inflict, on anyone.
I do not support any violence Americans inflict, on anyone.
I do not support any violence any humans inflict, on anyone.
I do support the kindness of Israelis. The kindness of Arabs.
The kindness of Americans. The kindness of humanity.
I do not want tax money that comes from my paycheck, that I
have earned in peaceable ways, to go toward the systematic
destruction of lives, those of Arabs or Israelis or Americans.
When we are no longer inspired by the humanity of our neighbors,
something has been destroyed. Many Israelis have been destroyed,
as they destroy Palestinians. And the United States pays for this.
Is that being a good friend?
This is the United States’ conflict. We are involved.
This, quite simply, must stop.
Mr. President, what have you done this week to bring peace
among Israel, Palestine, and the United States?
I will ask again next week. And the week after that. Like the mother
in Bethlehem who will wait 500 years for her son’s prison sentence to end,
I will keep asking, until we are free. Until we have peace.
Salaam, Peace, Shalom.
Respectfully and with great hope,
Kohleun A.
This poem is one of her recent ones -- a reflection on her time in the Middle East -- and is posted on From Here to There. Please don't let the length deter you (especially if you don't tend to be a huge fan of poetry); I assure you it is well worth the read.
A Letter to the President of the United States
To the President of the United States:
I am not a politician, or an official diplomat.
I am a university student, a philosopher, a poet,
a theologian, a woman, a novice world traveler,
a feminist, a peacemaker.
I love God, most of the time, and at others, do not know
how to love God, but like any honest
theologian, I must admit I often do not understand
what she/he has in mind for this world,
a world that is both beautiful and broken.
People do many things in the name of “God”
that I also do not understand. Contradiction
is everywhere. And Jesus, let’s not get started
on the things people say about Jesus. I believe
he was God and human, but schizophrenic? Well,
it’s possible. I find it dangerous to talk about
what Jesus could or could not be.
But enough about theology and those confusions.
I recently traveled to the Middle East. My goal
was to speak with women, hear their stories, see
their faces. And from that, write poems about their lives
in their voices, about their homes, their families, their
thoughts, their struggles, their power. Some of these women
were of Jordanian heritage, one an Iraqi, a couple more
Lebanese, most were Palestinian, forced from their homes
and welcomed by Jordan, but Jordan is a small country.
For five and a half weeks, I was based in Amman, and traveled
for too short a time to Jerusalem and Bethlehem.
Do you want to know why? Because of peace.
I am sure, Mr. President, that you know Jerusalem
is in Israel, and Bethlehem is in the West Bank.
I am sure you also know the United States gives a disproportionate
amount of funds to the Israeli government to use to their “benefit.”
I think it’s great to live in a country that helps others.
A country that makes friends of other countries.
But true friends hold each other accountable.
True friends do not let each other do harm.
True friends stay close, and ask questions.
True friends treat each other as equals, not spoiled children.
And I mean no disrespect,
but after my visit, I am sure you do not know these women’s
stories. You do not know their land or their voices,
their struggles, their thoughts, their homes,
their families, their power. You do not know Palestinians.
You do not know hot tea with mint, directions from a kind stranger,
breakfast and lunch that could make you pop—all daily
occurrences, not rare kind Arabs. Normal kind Arabs, who are pained
by their rare, violent cousins.
You do not know the empty streets of Bethlehem,
fresh plums—a gift—from a woman in the market whose land
has been taken from her. I am sure, though, you know who
took it. You do not know the horror of a checkpoint gate, the wall,
or how long six hours waiting at the Israel border for wanting to
visit Bethlehem feels. You do not know the humiliation
human beings suffer every day. You do not know the inequity.
You do not know how closely refugee camps resemble the ghettos
of Eastern Europe during the Holocaust of WWII,
how much hurt the Israelis are still facing, and how much healing
I wish I could bring them. You do not know how they remind me
of children who grew up with abusive parents, vowing to never
be like that, but who bruise and batter their children. When they are old,
they cry themselves to sleep, and whisper prayers of regret.
Their children cry too.
Mr. President, do you want to know why I believe you
do not know these things?
Because if you did, if you knew them, they would be different.
You would be different.
Knowing details makes peace possible. Our enemies become
neighbors. People have faces that cannot be blown up.
I do not know your reasons for aiding Israel with such gusto.
Perhaps you wish to help God’s “chosen” people. But aren’t we all?
Perhaps you want to make up for America’s late entry into WWII,
and the masses of human beings with families and wishes who
should not have been treated as they were. But is this the way to do that?
Won’t our next generation have a debt to pay the Palestinians?
Perhaps you want Americans to feel safe from Arabs. But aren’t we
more afraid?
Again, I do not know, and I am sure it is complicated.
Perhaps we should make it simple again.
I will make a few things
simple for you.
I do not support any violence Palestinians inflict, on anyone.
I do not support any violence Israelis inflict, on anyone.
I do not support any violence Americans inflict, on anyone.
I do not support any violence any humans inflict, on anyone.
I do support the kindness of Israelis. The kindness of Arabs.
The kindness of Americans. The kindness of humanity.
I do not want tax money that comes from my paycheck, that I
have earned in peaceable ways, to go toward the systematic
destruction of lives, those of Arabs or Israelis or Americans.
When we are no longer inspired by the humanity of our neighbors,
something has been destroyed. Many Israelis have been destroyed,
as they destroy Palestinians. And the United States pays for this.
Is that being a good friend?
This is the United States’ conflict. We are involved.
This, quite simply, must stop.
Mr. President, what have you done this week to bring peace
among Israel, Palestine, and the United States?
I will ask again next week. And the week after that. Like the mother
in Bethlehem who will wait 500 years for her son’s prison sentence to end,
I will keep asking, until we are free. Until we have peace.
Salaam, Peace, Shalom.
Respectfully and with great hope,
Kohleun A.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Jews who will not celebrate Israel's anniversary
On Wednesday April 30th, 2008, this letter, written and signed by U.K. Jews (some who were once Israeli citizens) was published in The Guardian. It details why some Jews will not, cannot, celebrate Israel's anniversary.
To see the article in its original context, and view the names of those who signed, go here.We're not celebrating Israel's anniversary --
In May, Jewish organisations will be celebrating the 60th anniversary of the founding of the state of Israel. This is understandable in the context of centuries of persecution culminating in the Holocaust. Nevertheless, we are Jews who will not be celebrating. Surely it is now time to acknowledge the narrative of the other, the price paid by another people for European anti-semitism and Hitler's genocidal policies. As Edward Said emphasised, what the Holocaust is to the Jews, the Naqba is to the Palestinians.In April 1948, the same month as the infamous massacre at Deir Yassin and the mortar attack on Palestinian civilians in Haifa's market square, Plan Dalet was put into operation. This authorised the destruction of Palestinian villages and the expulsion of the indigenous population outside the borders of the state. We will not be celebrating.
In July 1948, 70,000 Palestinians were driven from their homes in Lydda and Ramleh in the heat of the summer with no food or water. Hundreds died. It was known as the Death March. We will not be celebrating.
In all, 750,000 Palestinians became refugees. Some 400 villages were wiped off the map. That did not end the ethnic cleansing. Thousands of Palestinians (Israeli citizens) were expelled from the Galilee in 1956. Many thousands more when Israel occupied the West Bank and Gaza. Under international law and sanctioned by UN resolution 194, refugees from war have a right to return or compensation. Israel has never accepted that right. We will not be celebrating.
We cannot celebrate the birthday of a state founded on terrorism, massacres and the dispossession of another people from their land. We cannot celebrate the birthday of a state that even now engages in ethnic cleansing, that violates international law, that is inflicting a monstrous collective punishment on the civilian population of Gaza and that continues to deny to Palestinians their human rights and national aspirations.
We will celebrate when Arab and Jew live as equals in a peaceful Middle East.
To view the article in a different context, and read more about Israel's 60th anniversary, visit Jewish Peace News (the specific article is about halfway down the page, dated May 1st).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)