Whose Responsibility is it?

“You are not an observer, you are a participant.” ― Thích Nhất Hạnh.

There is a moment when you can’t sit still anymore. An energy bustling from within you makes you speak or take a step. You are standing in line and hear a conversation you think could be different if you were part of it. Maybe you can translate and clarify, maybe your presence can influence others’ encounter with oppression, and maybe listening can help enough to stop the escalation. Laor Abramov’s mother, Michal Halev, said this was the activism she practiced all her life; one that is more individual, that focuses on daily encounters. Standing on the stage of the Israeli Palestinian Joint Memorial Ceremony, she said: “I believed that if I raised a boy who would grow into an attentive and kind-hearted man, I would be increasing the goodness in the world and fulfilling my destiny.” But now, after her son was murdered in the Nova festival on October 7th, she realizes she needs to spread her message, to speak up against revenge and asks: “No more killing.”

I heard her speak in the ceremony, but her cry was also one of the first voices for peace I heard in the first month after the attack. It was part of a course I took from the Etty Hillesum Cards organization, a course curated by Dina, a Palestinian lecturer & writer, and by Emma, an Israeli artist & Rabbi, inspired by the words of Hillesum, a Jewish woman who did not survive the Holocaust and was murdered in Auschwitz. Etty left behind her an inspiring diary, and her quotes guide many to this day. Here is one of my favorites: “Ultimately, we have just one moral duty: to reclaim large areas of peace, and to reflect it towards others. And the more peace there is in us, the more peace there will also be in our troubled world.”

I don’t know what is enough, what activism should be out there, what will bring about a positive change, and what is positive anyway. But I know that sometimes you act because you simply must act. As a teacher in a school with Israelis and Palestinians, my activism was always through education. I believed, and I still believe, that education is the most powerful movement there is. But something within me—I am still unsure what—pushed and pulled me out of my private comfort zone and onto the street. Perhaps it was the pain, perhaps the silence, or perhaps a combination of it with many other things. Some people have been there for a long time, for years, and here I am, new in the field, trying to figure out what is out there—what is the best course of action. And what are the outcomes that different actions bring about? In this article, I will share with you my personal journey through different movements, groups, and actions since October 7th, 2023, and until today. There is no solution and no end, only a journey and many questions that I have been asking and invite myself and you to keep asking all the time.

After the shock from the situation we were made to deal with, and after a course attempting to bring about healing and reconnection, I did two things– I started volunteering in the hostages square on Saturday evenings, and joined the WhatsApp group of “standing together.” Actually, I joined any WhatsApp group I could that resonated with voices I needed, creating a personal refuge from the news I heard outside– “voices of solidarity,” “stopping the war,” “under the radar- volunteering,” etc.

At first, not many people came to the hostage square, a main square in the center of Tel Aviv dedicated to being a stage and gathering place of the hostages’ families and their allies. Surprisingly, not many people showed their support. I have a friend who was with the hostage’s families from October 8th, helping to start all the campaigns. I admire that, and her, so I feel the need to stress that it took me longer to realize what is going on. Once I realized this, I tried to go to all the protests and installations I could and to volunteer in the square. I signed up as a “helper” and did whatever I was asked to do- hand out yellow ribbons, hang posters, clean the surroundings, give out umbrellas, move tables. However, with time, more and more people started coming (which is good), and the speeches shifted to be more militaristic as well as religious at times (which was hard for me). Thus, when a group of families invited people to join them in protest outside the army base after the weekly assemblies in the square, I joined, feeling it made more sense to support them in the cry for a hostage deal.

At the same time, I joined “standing together.” I didn’t know what it was. I only knew that there were Israelis and Palestinians- both in the leadership of the organization and part of the participants. It felt like a good start. My first activity was through a message in the group- they were looking for help to find someone to drive a Muslim Palestinian family back home. This is because their home was in a Jewish neighborhood, and they were attacked by one of the neighbors at the start of October and decided to move to a rented place in an Arab village. The message arrived after they felt ready to return. After that drive, I kept waiting to see what other help was being asked for and looked for other groups, finding that they also had a group at my university. I met with the organizer, who explained all the available activities to me in depth. I realized there was a lot of potential, but I was unsure how much I could be involved since I was working in the mornings and was rarely at the university, only to finish work on my thesis (which is now done!). We also spoke about dialogue groups, and I received advice on some activities I could do with my students, as well as information about the education groups that exist for younger and older groups. I asked her if she knew something about a group of women who did a sit-in in white in the main theater square- she knew them and helped me reach out.

The group’s name is “Women* Peace Sit-In,” a group still in development and growth. It started after October 7th, when a group of women joined forces, realizing they must give their voice room, but the reality in Israel is not allowing it. Protesting to stop the war was too dangerous. So they started to do sit-ins- only for women*, wearing white, holding signs in Hebrew, Arabic, English, and Ukrainian, saying “hope,” “peace,” “justice,” “equality,” “safe birth,” “running water,” and more. Along were banners; the first was “Peace agreement now,” as the situation progressed, there were also banners such as “Stop the bloodshed,” “Ceasefire now,” and “No one is free until all are free.” It was the group that made the most sense to me, but it was also where I learned that these ideas are considered radical and are often misunderstood. There, I also learned what a peacekeeper is and the importance of having people in that role when you go out to the street and do Nonviolent Direct Actions. I would say it represented all the conversations about conflict I had in my life, in various circles of dialogue between Israelis and Palestinians I took part in. And suddenly, outside of the safe conversation and reconciliation bubble, in the street, in the time we are at- I realized that for some people, for many people actually, we are seen as traitors and enemies. Some people passed by and did not react, some joined our call, but many wished me and the other women to be murdered, raped, and taken hostage. It was an important, eye-opening and painful experience. It was also the time to practice all my non-violent, peacekeeping, and dialogue tools. To practice compassion and care which I learned when traveling to India, learning Buddhism, and meeting the 19th Dalai Lama. Apparently, all these, and the title of non-violence, is more radical and scary than violence.

During these journeys, I also felt the need to expand my knowledge. I was looking for answers to questions I was asking myself and that I saw were being asked in my surroundings. I listened to podcasts that analyzed the Middle East and Israel/Palestine, as well as podcasts that referred to other conflicts and activism. I read the documents of the International Court of Justice (ICJ), “Hope” by Uri Ashi about solutions to the conflict, “Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet” by the activist Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh, testimonies of soldiers in books made by the NGO “Breaking the Silence” and many more (now I am reading “Nexus” by Yuval Noah Harari). I started learning Arabic and started to follow more Israeli, Palestinian, and International news channels. All of it together enhanced my understanding of the context of the conflict and the trauma, while also enhancing my confusion and making it more difficult to use the word “peace.”

I also felt the need to reconnect to my communities. To be present for my friends, to create safe conversations about how we feel and what we think. Sometimes, it was political and analytical. Most times, it was focused on feelings and emotions and the need for a hug. At some point, after a difficult message in a group of my past class of students, there was a heated conversation between Palestinians and Israelis, and I didn’t know what to say except to invite them to connect online and talk. I invited a Palestinian colleague to host the discussion together with me. Not all, but many joined. I later started to invite all alumni to join, making sure that we meet once every two weeks, no matter how many people come. I believed, and still do, that dialogue, safe reflection, and sharing spaces are some of the most important things there are.

This is also why I wanted to not only talk and protest (and teach), but I also wanted to volunteer and help with my hands. So I joined a few times to help Israeli farmers with their harvest (many farms were left with a shortage of workers and asked for the public’s help). I joined Palestinian farmers in their olive harvest with Rabbis for Human Rights (due to the occupation and settler violence, either supported or not stopped by the military, a Jewish-Israeli protective presence is needed), donated blood, and started being part of the food packaging team of “House of Solidarity”- first as a packager, and later as a driver. At the end of the school year, my students joined one of the packaging sessions and helped make sure that families from all sectors of Israeli society get food (single moms, elderly citizens, Muslims, Christians, Jews, refugees, immigrants, and Palestinians).

There were many other things that are now hard to remember, and it’s impossible to write about all of them. There are so many different groups and activities out there. There are many more things I want to take part in. There are so many creative ideas from people who try to bring about positive change.

One of the most prominent realizations I had is that peace is complicated, has many interpretations, and the path to it is often less “peaceful,” as one might instinctively imagine. Starting from the very basic realization that peace is what I wish for all human beings out of deep pain and perhaps naivety, the journey of trying to put these ideas out to the world in signs, slogans, speeches, marches, sit-ins, and events, showed me how easy it is to be misunderstood. It also showed me the importance of the words we use and the importance of searching for their meaning and my interpretation. This search is never-ending, as the situation is ever-changing. Thus, our moral compass, as well as intellectual thought process, must not cease, and we should always ask ourselves if we stand behind the sign we are holding. But also, if I only take part in protests and organizations with whom I 100% agree, I might find myself often standing alone.

Another realization is the place that activists from Israel and Palestine have. Those who are directly affected by the violence and want to see it end are those who are holding the tension. Those who feel pain and fear from “the other”, as well as “their own.” I found out that these are the ones most misunderstood. I guess what I am trying to say, in all these works and groups, is that we should always choose the path of empathy and non-violence, as well as look at the constructs and forces working on creating the violence around us. Remembering that violence can take many forms- it can be physical, emotional, social, political, sporadic, organized; you name it. And I guess it is a radical realization to act upon since the violence is here, there, and everywhere, and it is a powerful force to stand against.

Here, in the “Oasis of Peace / נווה שלום / واحة السلام,” I am working on the last words of my article. It is the final weekend of a course on how to host dialogues between Jews and Palestinians. Many people shared that this is their activism. It brings me back to where I started: education. I am still wondering what the best way to take action is. Everything seems so important at times, and so meaningless in others, since the situation is not getting any better. Thus, I will leave you with a list of some of the organizations mentioned (and others), and hopefully with questions to ask yourself. Please feel free to add on to this list and share your thoughts. With much love and appreciation, Ma’ayan.