In humanity lies hope
Hilla Medalia
BOSTON—Delegates from Israel and some Arab states will meet in the United States this month with the hope of devising an
agreement leading to the formation of a Palestinian state and, theoretically, stability in the Middle East. It is the
first such US-led summit in years, and regardless of the outcome, it will be an historic event.
History, unfortunately, has not favoured success when it comes to peace between Israel and the Palestinians. The road to
peace is littered with numerous failed plans that have left in their wake a sea of bitter cynicism, a resignation that
this is a road that will forever stretch beyond the horizon. One can't be blamed for believing this summit will be no
different.
The cynicism is understandable. Perhaps this is because in both the United States and Middle East, much of what we know,
or what we think we know, about the conflict is filtered through the lens of politics, a lens too often framed by
zealots and violence.
This leads each side to assume that the general population of the other shares these extremist beliefs and desires
nothing less than the other’s complete subjugation, if not annihilation. At the very least, the average citizen's voice
is overwhelmed by the deafening power of extremism.
If you set aside the political rhetoric, however, and listen to what the average Israeli or Palestinian truly wants,
you'll find that their desires are not so different. Opportunities for such dialogue, unfortunately, are rare.
I grew up in Ramat Hasharon, Israel, 16 miles from Tulkarm, a Palestinian refugee camp. But until three years ago, I had
never set foot in one of the camps, though they are the crux of the hostilities. The closest most Israelis (other than
as soldiers) get to Palestinian life is what they see in the media, which focuses almost exclusively on military
activity and civil unrest.
I entered the Deheisheh refugee camp not with a machine gun, but with a camera to film a documentary about the mothers
of two teenage girls—Rachel Levy, an Israeli, and Ayat al-Akhras, a Palestinian who killed Rachel, herself, and another
bystander, and injured dozens of others in a suicide bombing several years ago.
A Christian Palestinian peace worker had to negotiate my entrance into the camp.
Simply bearing witness to life inside Deheisheh was a remarkable education. I was able to see Palestinians not as a
political or military entity, but as ordinary people going through their daily routine—shopping, going to school, coming
home from work—albeit in markedly oppressive conditions.
The experience was short-lived, however, and the political reality of the conflict was brought home to me when we were
detained within an hour by the Palestinian Authority and then released back to Israel.
Several weeks later, we arranged a meeting between Rachel's mother, Avigail, and Ayat's mother, Um Samir.
Avigail had sought the meeting in an effort to understand why her daughter had become another of the countless victims
of the Palestinian terrorist campaign, and what motivated Ayat to feel justified in killing innocent people.
The mothers met via a video conference, since a face-to-face meeting had proved impossible.
Their exchange was tense, understandably fraught with grief and an array of complex emotions. Both arrived with agendas
to uphold their negative assumptions about the other.
They could not agree on the morality or immorality of what Ayat had done. But they did understand each other as mothers
who were devastated to have lost their daughters.
Yet after four hours of often circuitous, heated dialogue, neither of them wanted the conversation to end. They stayed
as long as the video conference schedule allowed, and then left reluctantly.
Regardless of the hostility, they had seen each other in a way that Israelis and Palestinians rarely do—as human
beings—and they did not want to let that go. It was too precious.
Herein lies the seed of hope for peace, or perhaps just a seed of hope for hope.
When the American, Arab and Israeli leaders meet at the upcoming summit in Annapolis, they might bear in mind that they
are not representing political or military factions, but mothers, daughters, fathers, and sons who yearn to have their
humanity recognised.
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* Hilla Medalia is an Israeli-born filmmaker whose documentary, "To Die in Jerusalem," was recently shown in the United
States. This article is distributed by the Common Ground News Service (CGNews) and can be accessed at
www.commongroundnews.org.
Source: International Herald Tribune, 1 November 2007, www.iht.com
Copyright permission has been obtained for publication.
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