Dear friends, family, and members of my many communities,
Recently, as I have dedicated myself to actively defining and exploring my Jewish and American identities, I have come to the decision that the only way I can express these identities is to nonviolently resist the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza. I ask you to read this letter not so that I can convince you of any particular position, but so that I can share part of the journey that has led me to this point and ask for your help in continuing it.
I have long felt a commitment to peace and justice that springs from the witnessing of pain and suffering, the experience of joy and creativity, and the desire to give from within myself. There is no one solution to the world’s problems, but at this moment, for the first time, I feel a true coincidence of what the world needs most and what I most need to do. Jews’ history as victims, fighters, and survivors in Egypt, Europe, and elsewhere can lead us in two directions: toward a sectarian view of the world in which we view our oppression as more significant than that of others, or toward solidarity with peoples who are experiencing violence around the globe. The second perspective inspires me to go to Palestine, to stop the suffering that is happening in my name as a Jew and with my money as an American. I have been to Israel several times from Jewish perspectives, but I have never experienced “the other side.” With my two months in the West Bank, I hope I am able to take a glimpse into the daily life of Palestinians under occupation, and form a more complete and grounded view for myself.
While I make this decision with strong political beliefs, my concern for peace in Israel and Palestine comes first and foremost from a deep love for humanity. When I hear talk in the Knesset [the Israeli parliament] of mass “transfer” of Palestinians, it immediately brings to mind the language of Germany in the 1930s and 1940s. When I see Sharon building a concrete wall through the middle of the West Bank, I recall the walls of the Jewish ghettos in Europe and of the Bantustans in South Africa. When army bulldozers demolish hundreds of Palestinian homes, I think of the early days of the kibbutz movement, and the “chalutzim” (pioneers) who with pride and diligence physically built up their communities. When the Israeli government uproots thousands of olive trees so that Palestinian farmers cannot sustain themselves and their families, I think of growing up instilled with the Jewish value that the earth is to be cherished (“Give money to the JNF – plant a tree in Israel”). Again and again I ask, how can we? How can we do to others what has too often been done to us? How can we destroy what we worked so hard to build?
And yet, I have hope. I have hope because I don’t know how to live without it. I have hope because just a few weeks ago, 150 Israeli peace activists climbed over roadblocks to join 150 Palestinian peace activists in Ramallah and develop a common agenda and strategy for fighting the occupation. I have hope because sixteen women from around the world have made a three-year commitment to live in the Palestinian town of Hares, engaging in work of accompaniment, protest, documentation, and grassroots organizing. It is with this group, the International Women’s Peace Service, that I will be volunteering during the olive harvest from September through November. My work will include assuring the safety of Palestinian farmers as they work in their olive groves, and picking olives there with them. I will also engage in the nonviolent struggle to stop the construction of the “separation wall,” as most Palestinians and many Israelis have come to call it, or the “security fence,” as Sharon calls it. I will document what I see and send reports to friends, family, and media. We rarely hear stories from the ground, especially stories with more than a report of violence and a body count on either side. My reports will hopefully add a touch of humanity that our mass media often neglect.
With deep hope in the possibilities for peace,
Hannah
