A fascinating article

Joseph Hongo, my fellow Fellow from Kenya, handed this article to me a couple of days ago. It’s an interesting read, and outlines some of the great ideological and practical challenges faced by those who would work for peace.

So what do you think?

Something I think is worth doing

This summer I spent two weeks in Israel and Palestine, mostly in the West Bank. The group I traveled with, Interfaith Peace Builders, met with people from all sides of the conflict there, and had first-hand experience of the way people are treating each other. It left me somewhat radicalized, but not necessarily in the ways you might imagine. I didn’t end up more “pro-Palestinian,” or more “pro-Israeli.” In fact, I came to the conclusion that those terms are outdated.

What I am, if we have to put a label on it, is anti-occupation. I think the occupation is damaging everyone involved, Israelis as well as Palestinians. It is the nature of oppression that it oppresses everyone, even the oppressors, and this oppression must end, for the good of all.

This is a short video of the Shministim, who are young Israelis refusing to serve in the Israeli military on grounds of conscience. They are going to jail because of it. Below the video is an online petition that you can sign if you feel so moved.

Gandhi said that he believed in the goodness of the British people and wanted to show them their own injustice, believing that when injustice is sufficiently exposed, people stand up against it. In retrospect, he was right. I believe in the goodness of the Israeli people as well, and in fact, many do stand against the occupation, as I do.

Shalom and Salaam,

David

Sign the petition

Nazareth

Nazareth

This week has been astoundingly dense and deeply emotional.  Two days into the trip I already felt like my experience had been worth the effort and expense. I had no idea how each of the following days would multiply that impression.

I’ve tried three times to start this update with a story from the trip, and each time I’ve found that the stories open onto a flood of other stories, questions and observations — it’s hard to be succinct when writing about an experience this rich.

So for now I won’t tell a story, I’ll just explain that though I knew before I came that this situation was profoundly complicated and intricate, I have found it exponentially more so than I could have imagined.

Perhaps more importantly, I’ve been struck by the strong sense that the intricacy of the issues does not excuse me from standing for justice wherever I find it to be lacking. 

People of faith, especially those of the Abrahamic traditions (Christians, Jews and Muslims), have a duty to educate ourselves about the issue and advocate for just policies. Moreover, U.S. citizens have a duty to inform ourselves, given that we live in a democracy, and that we are paying a significant part of the cost of the occupation with our tax dollars.  As Rabbi Heschel said, “In a democratic society, some are guilty, but all are responsible.”

We’ve had almost non-stop meetings and vivid experiences on this trip, from a briefing by the UN to conversations with right wing Zionists to visits in Palestinian homes slated for demolition by the government. We’ve walked through an Israeli checkpoint and talked with the founder of Rabbis for Human Rights and the Israeli Committee Against Home Demolitions.

All of it has broken my heart, but I hope and believe that those cracks are letting some Light in. If you’re one who offers prayers of any kind, I humbly request some for myself, as well as for the people of the Middle East.

You’ll notice, though (at least when I point it out), that when I said the conflict was complicated, I said “profoundly complicated,” not “hopelessly complicated,” as we so often hear. When we met with Abir Kopty this morning (a young Palestinian, human rights activist and Coptic Christian) she said “We learned, as Palestinians, ‘You are not allowed to lose hope. This is not your right.’” 

To that, I say “Sah,” which in Arabic means “that’s right.”  As Vaclav Havel said, “Hope is not prognostication, it is an orientation of the spirit.”

off to the Middle East

OK, so I do my share of travel. I admit this is a bit dense, though, even for a road dog like me.

I flew to Washington, DC on Friday in order to be here in time for an orientation session that began on Saturday. The group seems strong, with a broad diversity of different personalities and contexts, and the orientation sessions were well-done and thought-provoking. Orientation continued on Sunday morning, then Sunday afternoon we boarded an overnight flight to Vienna, Austria.

We landed in Austria Monday morning and went into town where we visited a museum dedicated to Jewish history in Austria and Israel, had lunch, then met with Hans Koechler, of the International Progress Organization, which works with the UN on Middle East issues. It was both informative and challenging to hear him talk about the obstacles to peace, one of which is our own government’s blocking of any efforts to enforce international law, even when it is almost universally agreed upon.

After the briefing from Mr. Koechler we got some lunch in Vienna and took the train back to the airport, where we boarded for Tel Aviv.

And that’s where I am as I write this, on that plane. It’s been about forty-four hours since I slept. Between the orientation sessions, some intense reading, ongoing conversations with the other thirteen delegates and the lecture today I’ve taken in a great deal of information since I left home. Doubtless there’s also been much more information that flowed past that I wasn’t able to absorb.
I’m trying to approach this trip with a great deal of humility and awareness of my ignorance. We’re not going with great wisdom to impart or much to contribute to the peace efforts, but to learn and experience some things, then to be able to share our own experiences, and to give voice to some perspectives that don’t get much airtime in the U.S. press, including voices for peace on both sides of the conflict, but including voices from many angles all across the political spectrum.

Stay tuned if you’re so inclined. I’ll be trying to update this page every day or two.

White Flour

Memphis, Tennessee People keep asking at shows where they can get a copy of my poem, White Flour. Christine Kane did me the honor of printing it on her excellent blog a while back, but I guess it’s time I added it to my own. By the way, I just got word that it will be published in Friends Journal in June.    

 

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be

In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee

A dozen men put on their suits and quickly took their places

In white robes and those tall and pointed hoods that hid their faces

Their feet all fell in rhythm as they started their parade

They raised their fists into the air, they bellowed and they brayed

They loved to stir the people up, they loved when they were taunted

They didn’t mind the anger, that’s precisely what they wanted

 

As they came around the corner, sure enough, the people roared

They couldn’t quite believe their ears, it seemed to be… support!

Had Knoxville finally seen the light, were people coming ‘round?

The men thought for a moment that they’d found their kind of town

But then they turned their eyes to where the cheering had its source

As one their faces soured as they saw the mighty force

The crowd had painted faces, and some had tacky clothes

Their hair and hats outrageous, each had a red foam nose

 

The clowns had come in numbers to enjoy the grand parade

They danced and laughed that other clowns had come to town that day

And then the marchers shouted, and the clowns all strained to hear

Each one tuned in intently with a gloved hand to an ear

“White power!” screamed the marchers, and they raised their fisted hands

The clowns leaned in and listened like they couldn’t understand

Then one held up his finger and helped all the others see

The point of all this yelling, and they joined right in with glee

 

“White flour!” they all shouted and they felt inside their clothes

They pulled out bags and tore them and huge clouds of powder rose

They poured it on each other and they threw it in the air

It got all over baggy clothes and multi-colored hair

All but just a few of them were joining in the jokes

You could almost see the marchers turning red beneath white cloaks

They wanted to look scary, they wanted to look tough

One rushed right at the clowns in rage, and was hauled away in cuffs

 

But the others chanted louder marching on around the bend

The clowns all marched on too, of course, supporting their new friends

“White power!” came the marchers’ cry — they were not amused

The clowns grew still and thoughtful; perhaps they’d been confused

They huddled and consulted, this bright and silly crowd

They listened quite intently, then one said “I’ve got it now!”

“White flowers!” screamed the happy clown and all the rest joined in

The air was filled with flowers, and they laughed and danced again

 

“Everyone loves flowers, and white’s a pretty sort

I can’t think of a better cause for marchers to support!”

Green flower stems went flying like small arrows from bad archers

White petals covered everything, including the mad marchers

And then a very tall clown called the others to attention

He choked down all his chuckles, then said “Friends I have to mention

That with all the mirth and fun today it’s sort of hard to hear

But now I know the cause that these strange marchers hold so dear

 

“Tight showers!” the clown bellowed and he hit his head in wonder

He held up a camp shower and the others all got under

Or at least they tried to get beneath, they strained but couldn’t quite

There wasn’t room for all of them— they pushed, but it was tight

“White Power!” came their marchers’ cry, quite carefully pronounced

The clowns consulted once again, then a woman clown announced

“I’ve got it! I’m embarrassed that it took so long to see

But what these marchers march for is a cause quite dear to me…”

 

“Wife power!” she exclaimed and all the other clowns joined in

They shook their heads and laughed at how erroneous they’d been

The women clowns were hoisted up on shoulders of the others

Some pulled on wedding dresses, shouting “Here’s to wives and mothers!”

The men in robes were angry and they knew they’d been defeated

They yelled a few more times and then they finally retreated

And when they’d gone a black policeman turned to all the clowns

And offered them an escort to the center of the town

 

The day was bright and sunny as most May days tend to be

In the hills of Appalachia down in Knoxville, Tennessee 

People joined the new parade, the crowd stretched out for miles

The clowns passed out more flowers and made everybody smile

And what would be the lesson of that shiny southern day?

Can we understand the message that the clowns sought to convey?

Seems that when you’re fighting hatred, hatred’s not the thing to use

So here’s to those who march on in their big red floppy shoes

(based on true events of May 26, 2007 – ©2007 David LaMotte)

That’s not Peace

This morning I checked the news when I found a disturbing story in the news about a military recruitment center on Times Square being bombed by a small and ineffectual improvised explosive tossed from a bicycle.

The ‘comments’ beneath the article are predictable, including some anti-immigrant posturing, “I bet they’ll find out it was someone foreign!”; and one that said, “You liberals should be ashamed of yourselves!” 

Reading that article reminded me of a recent conversation which helped me understand how often and how completely I am misunderstood as a peace activist.

About ten days ago I was in Sarasota, Florida, the city I grew up in (though it was more of a town than a city in those days). While there I led a workshop on “World Changing 101.” 

At one point I was talking about the concept of calling, or vocation. As an illustration I told a story about a man I know who sees his calling as “To foster peace in the various relationships in which I find myself,” I mentioned off-handedly that since I know this man, I know that his definition of “peace” is a deep and nuanced one, not dumbed down to a definition like placidity, or simply lack of war, but a question of creating justice, of right relationship.

After the workshop was over a woman came up to me and said that she comes from a military family and that she had never understood peace work to be anything other than anti-war, and even anti-soldier, and that she appreciated having a new perspective on this.

I was dumbfounded. I had foolishly assumed a certain level of commonality of experience in the group, which consisted of about 75 people, and was, after all, a workshop on social and political activism and empowerment. 

As I thought further about it, though, it occurred to me that one of the common questions I get when I tell people about how I’ll be spending 2009 and 2010 (pursuing a Masters in Peacemaking at the University of Queensland in Brisbane, Australia as a Rotary World Peace Fellow) is “So… I mean, what will you study?”

A reasonable question, but the tone it’s often presented with betrays a bafflement at the very idea of studying peace and the creation of it. That bafflement might be rooted in a common misperception of what peace work is — that it’s about opposing war, demonstrating, etc.  If that’s the case, then what, you take classes on chanting and sign-making?!  (here’s what I’ll study, by the way)

I’m not denigrating the roll of public protest.  In fact, I’m headed to DC this weekend to be part of an interfaith peace event that will include a big march among other things. I think that work is important, but it’s not the sum total of what peace work amounts to.

The most important work the peace movement does, according to long-time peace activist (and dear friend) Anne Welsh, happens before and after the actual violence.   

I think a better, and broader description of what peace work is might be excerpted from a Quaker query: “to live so as to take away the occasion for war.”  In other words, to work on the root injustices that have a tendency to escalate into violence, and to work toward healthier ways of dealing with conflict. 

The goal is not placidity. Rather, the goal is to work through conflict more constructively and less destructively, and to work against injustice, which is the root cause of most violence. There are techniques for conflict management and transformation that are vetted and shown to be much more effective than our most prevalent models of militarism and punitive penal codes, but we cling to what we know, no matter how ineffective it has shown itself to be.

Responding to violence with violence is the antithesis of peacemaking, which brings me back to today’s story. Bombing a military recruitment center is not the action of a peace activist, but of a person who has bought into the lie of redemptive violence. 

Peace is more than the absence of violence, but well-grounded peace work can’t condone violence either. The logic is so flawed as to be almost comical if it weren’t so serious: “I’m bombing this recruitment center because it’s perpetrating violence on the Iraqis, who the U.S. military says they had to be violent toward because of the violence they perpetrated on the Kurds, who the Iraqi government claimed to be justified in killing because of their violent uprisings, which the Kurds claimed were justified by the violence of…”

As Dr. King rightly said, “The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.”

I’m glad that no one in New York was hurt, and as a U.S. citizen committed to peace, I also condemn the bombing. There is one significant thing left to say, though.

I can’t do much about the guy who made and threw that bomb. The authorities will catch him, or they won’t, and I don’t think I can have much effect on that process. 

The meaningful question, then, is this: What violence or injustice can I have an effect on? What do I need to learn more about?  What do I need to speak out on?  What action must I take to work for justice and “live so as to take away the occasion for war?”