Writing about Israel — my homeland — is the hardest writing I do. It would be impossible to write everything I think and feel about this in one essay. Today, on February 27, 2024, I’m writing from within the depths of my heart but, as we all are, I am always learning and growing. If you have something to contribute to the conversation, I welcome it as long as you write from a place of kindness and compassion. I hope you read these words with an open heart. For previous roundups of resources and thoughts about Israel and Palestine, click here and here.
For the last week or so, I’ve been thinking that it’s time for me to write about this again. I stopped because, well, I didn’t know what to say. As time goes on and the pain becomes sharper and less bearable for everyone I know, I’ve been getting more nervous about hurting someone with my words.
With these essays, I’m trying to excavate an idea that feels messy without trying to put things in order. To keep the conversation messy. I see folks grasping for simple narratives or absolute truths, and I get that, but those will inevitably splinter. This poll, or that statement, or the other analysis — none of it is the whole picture. When I think about the situation, I feel as though I’m turning a multi-sided die over in my head. Each facet is flat, easily read, but it’s comprehension is impacted by proximity to all the other sides. Everything I read and see feels like it should end in an ellipses; no description can possibly represent the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me G-d I cannot figure this shit out.
I pray about it. I ask G-d for strength. Over and over, I whisper shema Yisrael Adonai Elokeinu Adonai echad meditating on unity of spirit and the oneness of humans with the divine. Every day I wake up hoping this will be the day people begin to see what I see — that we are all born worthy of living in dignity and that violence only begets more violence. Every one of us is a world. Every one of us is inherently holy. Every. One.
This is all a fucking tragedy. There is not one thing to celebrate, hasn’t been anything to celebrate in a long damn time.
I’m beginning to believe this is my own naiveté and narrowness showing. Maybe it’s me who’s limited. Why can’t I wrap my head around what these folks are thinking? I know humans have incredible capacity for hatred and violence. But the amount of poison that would have to be coursing through your veins to do the things that have been done — it’s staggering to me.
I don’t see any compassionate adults in the room. Not on any side. I see politicians sitting in fancy suites around the globe, making decisions about their political futures. Decisions that have real consequences for children, for innocent civilians shivering in squalid tents in Rafah or cowering in bomb shelters in northern Israel. I guess I still thought some leaders had the best interests of people at the forefront of their minds as they made decisions.
Sometimes, we get so caught up in keeping track of who did what when how and whose fault everything is that we lose sight of the most basic, most important thing — the lives lost and shattered.
Every time a ceasefire is vetoed or rejected, it feels like a gut punch. I want to shake these suited men by the shoulders and scream “PEOPLE ARE DYING! DON’T YOU SEE?” I want them drenched in my spittle as I over-enunciate. I want them shocked out of complacency and into action.
What matters is never doing this again and finding a way to (somehow) repair what has already been done. Insofar as that’s possible.
Over the last week, I’ve been talking about this a lot with my mom, who is also heartsick at what’s happening. After all, she’s the woman who taught me the values of respecting human life, and fighting for peace, and looking hard truths right in the whites of their eyes. Those same values that are making it so hard for me to stomach what’s happening before my eyes. To (re)learn my history and come to terms with all the decisions made by political leaders that have led to this point.
As I do this relearning-newlearning-unlearning, I find myself inhabiting a strange brainspace of mixed-up cynicism and optimism.
Then my inner optimist chimes in and reminds me about the activist movements who have gained so much traction in the last months. About the ongoing demonstrations in Israel, literally every day now, calling for Netanyahu’s resignation and the return of the hostages by way of a ceasefire. About the municipal elections this week in Israel, where few (if any) folks were willing to admit affiliation with Netanyahu’s party. Sally Abed, a Palestinian activist from the Standing Together Movement, was elected to Haifa’s city council and liberal, left-wing parties made gains in many other municipalities. My inner optimist reminds me of all the people I know, of all nationalities, who are clinging to compassion like a life-saver in an ocean of rage. They are not the loudest, but they’re persistent. My inner optimist looks around and says, “Persistence will win the day. We cannot give up. Everyone deserves better. Besides, we know we’re right.”
I don’t ever know which voice in my head will be louder. It gets noisy in here. But I know I have to keep trying to understand. I have to keep writing about it and talking to other people who are as heartbroken as I am.
Words and Sounds I Found Helpful for Understanding
In the New Yorker, the poet and teacher Mosab Abu Toha wrote a heartrending essay about his journey out of Gaza. I cried for days after reading this. I still can’t quite wrap my head around it.
In Hebrew: This article from Haaretz by Tamer Nafar about the way media algorithms are siloing folks so they don’t see one another’s pain.
Ezra Klein interviewing Salam Fayyad, who was once the Palestinian Prime Minister and has many important things to say about how this could all play out.
Ezra Klein interviewing Thomas Friedman, who has been writing about the Middle East for decades and has many important things to say about how this could all play out.
The Standing Together Movement: “A grassroots movement mobilizing Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel in pursuit of peace, equality, and social and climate justice. While the minority who benefit from the status quo of occupation and economic inequality seek to keep us divided, we know that we — the majority — have far more in common than that which sets us apart.”
Representatives from ST are coming to North America in March and April. Do you want to host a gathering with them? Let me know at chaospalace@substack.com
A Land for All: “A shared movement of Israelis and Palestinians who believe that the way towards peace, security and stability for all passes through two independent states, Israel and Palestine, within a joint framework allowing both peoples to live together and apart.”
Combatants for Peace: “A grassroots movement of Israelis and Palestinians, working together to end the occupation and bring peace, equality and freedom to our homeland. Committed to joint nonviolence since our inception, we use civil resistance, education and other creative means of activism to transform systems of oppression and build a free and peaceful future from the ground up.”
The Parents’ Circle — Families Forum: “A joint Israeli-Palestinian organization of over 600 families, all of whom have lost an immediate family member to the ongoing conflict. [We have] concluded that the process of reconciliation between nations is a prerequisite to achieving a sustainable peace.”
Heal Palestine: an organization that “envisions a Palestine where every child and young adult has access to quality healthcare, education, urgent aid, and opportunities to thrive.”
Welcome to the Chaos Palace is about coloring outside society's boring ol' lines.
Thank you for this as always. And what an excellent list of resources