It's no wonder the world is on the brink of collapse. There is no shortage of negativity and polarization, even among those who are not looking for it.
Social media defaults to negativity and division. Politicians run above them. We spend our lives hardening our hearts and being wary of strangers.
Under such artificial conditions, choosing a more optimistic and conciliatory path requires an almost paranoid spirit of rebellion. It's still possible.
The aftermath of the war in Gaza permeates our borders, across rivers and oceans, into our streets, our parliaments, and our universities. From Israel to the Ivy League, we are shown the most extreme elements of each camp, impressing upon us a false sense of public totality and unbridgeable divisions.
We are at a pro-Palestinian protest where one student's hateful “Zionists don't deserve to live'' statement is constantly haunted by Jewish class hatred and respect for terrorists-turned-martyrs. Focus on just enough to satirize the participants. We introduce politicians' calls to erase the “Gaza Strip” from the face of the earth in order to denigrate Israel supporters as cheerleaders for genocide.
All movements have in common extremists who disrupt the very causes they claim to promote. But making them the moral of the story only reinforces the idea that this conflict is irresolvable. We surrender to the cynic's claim that we cannot hope to mix water and oil.
But there is plenty in the land of milk and honey.
Despite the magnification of the extremes, a collection of people occupies the center of the Venn diagram, where the two sides intersect and find common ground. I count myself among them.
I am a progressive Jew with an emphasis on tackling anti-Semitism, with an emphasis on how anti-Semitic ideas and implicit bias influence conversations about Israel and Palestine. Works with diverse groups of people. Fundamental to our philosophy is the belief that our empathy for Muslims and Palestinians is the same for Jews and Israelis. As the grandson of a man who was once the only Jewish lawmaker in pre-revolutionary Iran, I take the coexistence of Muslims and Jews personally, but the challenge is far from simple.
At a time when people are being fed a heavy diet of unconditional solidarity with their “side,” we must embrace the freedom of dialogue, even when it comes to our fears, despite our differences. may involve, but facilitate dialogue across communities. Rather than taking an institutional approach of giving people clever talking points to “win” arguments, we give people the tools to engage.
Whether it's at UCLA's Gaza Solidarity Camp or the Jewish Society on campus, we meet people literally where they are. Ask questions such as “How has this conflict affected you personally?” “Do you have family on earth?” Personal connections can emerge if the conversation is not agenda-driven and message discipline is not strictly adhered to. We may identify with that person's lived experience and begin to see our partner rather than the enemy on the other side.
This isn't to paint a Pollyanna-esque picture. Some refuse dialogue, some divisions cannot be erased with paper, and some harbor hatred.
However, I have facilitated conversations with people who believe that Jews should be held accountable for the actions of the Israeli government, but who have come to understand that their position causes harm. I have led conversations where people who claimed they could not empathize with Palestinians came to realize how connected our futures are.
What ultimately unites the people at the center of the Venn diagram is the understanding that Israelis and Palestinians cannot afford to be prisoners of a scarcity mentality, the notion that there is not enough for both peoples. Expecting ideological unity among allies is a delusion that undermines the ability to see the big picture. Regardless of external pressures, we continue to be firmly supported by the realization of a shared future between our two countries. There will be no exodus of Israelis or Palestinians from the Holy Land.
That sober awareness brings everything into focus. Minor differences are put aside to build partnerships that lead to gradual political change.
Claiming our own unique right only incites division, perpetuates an unjust status quo, and serves those in power who benefit from it.
Among those who cry out “There are no innocents in Gaza'' or “All Israelis are settlers'' are those who center the humanity of both peoples. These are Israeli and Palestinian activists, faith leaders, and community organizers taking to the streets and parks of Tel Aviv. new york We come together to seek the best for all, not just one. Because they know that without the salvation of one, there is no salvation of the other.
Look at the alternatives. Humans are being taken hostage, innocent people are starving to death, and families are grieving and hopeless.
The people should not atone for the sins of their leaders. people want peace.
We have a choice: amplify those who seek attention, amplify those who seek peace, build broad coalitions, or maintain the shallow comfort of ideological bubbles. We serve as evidence that being pro-Israel does not mean being inherently anti-Palestinian, and vice versa. We can admit that some people's miracles were other people's disasters. We can make room for the stories of others without compromising our own. We can also choose a more optimistic path.
The change we long for is possible when we unite around a common struggle to achieve collective liberation. As we know, peace requires partners. And to achieve peace at the top level, we must start at the grassroots.
Daniel Brar is a facilitator and writer on Israeli and Palestinian issues. @Daniel Brall
