Some reflections on Palestine and my multiple mistakes this summer... There is a zone in which we can be met by the immediacy of what must be done. Either we are witness to some injustice or we are pushed to action by virtue of our identities. This is what it was like to travel through the West Bank earlier this summer. Something had to be done, and it was as if God said, write. And the words rolled down like water. There is a people, who live surrounded by a wall, whose water is cut off, whose olive trees are destroyed, whose children are arrested in the night, whose peaceful protesters are shot, whose movements are tracked and traced and truncated by another people that is slowly stealing their land. The imperative was clear. But while the imperative was clear, my inner waters were as muddy as ever. The turbulence that arose through living in this immediacy chewed up my eight-year relationship, which had previously been a heavenly sanctuary of love, as I became sucked into whirlpools of my own imagination. To live in the suffering and injustice of the world is to be crushed in a surge of emotions that few can control. As the distance between myself and the West Bank grew, writing about what was happening there became a thing. It was a choice, which required discipline, and was carefully weighed against other causes about which I might write. So a rationalism slipped into my lines - and a coolness, which seemed to frustrate some allies. And the Palestinian cause was thrown into all other causes, which needed to be integrated. And balance became ever more important. It was as if each thing in the world were being given a name. And it was good - but something was lost. Meanwhile, the war leant to the work of my activist friends just the opposite quality. There was a frenzy and intensity to their work, and it seemed a tremendous identification with the cause. More and more friends began to appear, who were literally wrapping themselves in the flag. And there were more people justifying a violence that seemed to be leading nowhere, whose justification seemed more a result of the frustrations that had left me so destabilized earlier in the summer. And so I found myself arguing with friends. And the solidarity that had been a source of strength began to fade. But the imperatives did not change. Israel lay there from 10 thousand miles out, a sore spot, while the injustices against Palestinians intensified. I am trying to be brief, but I do not know where this story ends, what is the vantage point from which we should take in injustices, how we should balance the ills of the world in our own minds, and how we are to maintain solidarity in the midst of disagreements. And I do not know how to win back my love - and yes that is a pun. And it is what I believe must motivate all revolutionary action if it is to matter. But it is also what makes life matter in the end, so if the revolutionary action is lacking in it, people will choose love over justice. I want to live with both, moment-to-moment and day-by-day.
Posted on: Mon, 29 Sep 2014 22:36:20 +0000
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