Special to the Diplomatic Pouch by Larry Luxner

It was a sendoff to remember. On May 14, more than 250 people showed up at the Washington Club on Dupont Circle to bid farewell to Afif Safieh — one of the most visible Arab diplomats ever to work the corridors of power in this nation’s capital.

The event, complete with Middle Eastern delicacies catered by Skewers Restaurant, attracted journalists, diplomats, peace activists and at least one lawmaker, Rep. Dennis Kucinich (D-Ohio). All were charmed by the hilarious Maysoon Zayid, a stand-up comic who eloquently bills herself as “the Palestinian Muslim virgin from New Jersey with cerebral palsy.”

“I love Afif because I rage against the machine, and because he found a way to truly represent Palestinians in the most authentic and dignified way possible — by not wearing too much hair gel,” Zayid quipped of the 58-year-old diplomat.

“The only thing I don’t like about Afif is that he’s Christian. It’s got nothing to do with religion. It’s because as a Christian, he can only have one wife.”

Zayid also lamented Safieh’s imminent departure, telling her audience, “It’s my fault that Afif is leaving D.C., because after being in America for all these years, he did not find me a husband, and now we have to move him to other countries to keep looking.”

Indeed, the Jerusalem-born diplomat and his wife Christ’l are being transferred to Moscow after two years as head of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) office in Washington. During his time here, he was commonly addressed as “ambassador” despite the lack of full diplomatic relations between the United States and the PLO, which oversees the Palestinian Authority.

“We are departing by our own free, voluntary volition,” Afif assured the crowd. “We are going to Moscow, not Siberia.”

By coincidence or perhaps by design, Safieh’s sendoff took place the very same day that Jews around the world celebrated the 60th anniversary of Israel’s founding in 1948 — an accident of timing that didn’t go unnoticed by those in attendance.

“This week, Palestinians and their friends have begun to commemorate the Nakba [an Arabic word meaning catastrophe],” said Delinda Hanley, news editor of the Washington Report on Middle East Affairs, which sponsored the event. “We’ll be hearing a lot about Israel’s birthday in the coming weeks, but we can’t forget that Israel’s founding was an act of ethnic cleansing and [that] the Nakba is not finished.”

Hanley, noting that “there are more than 4.5 million Palestinian refugees living in exile,” called for a moment of silence “to commemorate more than 500 Palestinian villages that were destroyed and more than 800,000 Palestinian people who were made refugees 60 years ago.”

She also read aloud emails from those who couldn’t be at the party in person, including one from Mustapha Karkouti, former president of the Foreign Press Association in London, who wrote that “we have paid [Afif and Christ’l] farewell before when they left London for Washington in 2005, and we know exactly how it feels to part with this beautiful couple.”

Dr. Jamal Shami, who introduced Safieh, called his Palestinian friend “a person who is selfless and pure,” and concluded his remarks by intoning the ancient Jewish prayer of longing — “Next Year in Jerusalem” — in a subtle touch of irony that would have raised eyebrows from Tel Aviv to Tiberias.

Yet no Israeli diplomats objected to Shami’s words, since none were invited to the event. There were, however, were a number of officials from Arab countries including Jordan and Syria, as well as Andrew Killgore, a former U.S. ambassador to Qatar.

“The American people are OK, but the American government under this administration has been an immense disappointment to all Palestinians,” said Killgore, now publisher of The Washington Report. The retired diplomat then presented a plaque to Safieh and his wife “in recognition of their dedication and tireless efforts to educate Americans about the Nakba and share the Palestinian narrative.”

Safieh himself, normally a witty, articulate man who enjoys being interviewed in print and on the air, barely spoke at his own farewell party — mainly because he was exhausted getting ready for the move to Russia (he and his wife left for the airport barely 12 hours later).

As participants gathered around a huge banquet table dominated by a Palestinian flag and laden with shish kebobs, humus, baklava and other Arab treats, others browsed through a colorful assortment of souvenirs being sold to raise money for Palestinian refugees.

Among the “Made in Palestine” items on display: extra-virgin olive oil from Jenin, ceramic pottery from Hebron, greeting cards from Bethlehem and jasmine-scented “peace candles” from Beit Jalla. Also on sale were copies of a richly illustrated children’s book, “The Boy and the Wall,” about an Arab child who picks flowers, raises turtles, dreams of Jerusalem and is consoled by his mother as Israeli soldiers gaze at him from across an ugly concrete barrier.

In another touch of irony, many of the pro-Palestinian knick-knacks on display carried stickers with Tel Aviv addresses. “All the borders are controlled by Israel, and a lot of this stuff doesn’t get out of Palestine without the help of sympathetic Israelis,” explained Matt Horton, director of the Washington Report’s book club. “It’s the same with humanitarian aid.”

September 2: Robert and Adam Chat it up with a slew of news, some prerecorded interviews on the Firing of Alberto GONEzales, Matt Horton with Remember These Children, Carl Triplehorn with Save the Children, some music, and some extraneous chaos.

By Mohammed Omer
(March 2007)
Pages 20-25
Special Report

“The gate will be open tomorrow”—these words spread like wildfire through the crowd of trapped Palestinians and visitors waiting to cross out of Gaza Strip into Egypt, and visa-versa. Would Israel withdraw yet again the promise of hope it dangled before me and [thousands? hundreds? of] families, individuals and businessmen waiting to be let out of our iron cage called Gaza? Many literally have spent weeks here at the border, without facilities, food, water or a place to sleep. Quietly I push my way toward the exit with the crowd. By three o’clock it is confirmed: for the first time in over a month, the border is open—but for just four hours.

Grabbing my bags—packed for my trip to the U.S. with my camera, clothes and whatever else I could carry in two hands—I melted into the crowd rushing like a torrent toward the border and freedom in Egypt beyond. Israel refused to allow me to travel to Jerusalem to obtain my U.S. visa, so the next closest U.S. embassy that wouldn’t require traveling through Israeli territory was in Cairo. A rush to the border, sandwiched between hundreds, heads bobbing up and down trying to see and breathe, dust swirling and caking on my skin mixed with sweat, bags bouncing off people in front of and behind me—this is how my speaking tour of America began.

U.S. Customs

At 1:07 p.m. on Nov. 24, 2006, my feet touch American soil at Washington, DC’s Dulles International Airport. Finally, after years of waiting, I would have the opportunity to share with the American people the Palestinian side of the story, something rarely heard in and indeed vehemently excised from American public discourse. As an Arab, an image often paired with the words “terrorist,” “extremist” and “fanatical,” and Muslim, a faith also paired with ominous adjectives, I didn’t know what to expect. As the plane descended, the Homeland Security message played over the intercom gives the impression that one is about to enter a fortress, complete with eye scans, fingerprinting and interrogations. I couldn’t help but notice that several American passengers seemed visibly uncomfortable with their nation’s welcome message. Perhaps this is one reason foreign business travel to the United States has fallen 20 percent since 2005. What awaited me, I was not sure.

Thankfully, my initial fears proved unfounded. Though the questions he asked were long and detailed, the immigration officer was pleasant and did his best to make me comfortable throughout the interview—quite a contrast to the way Palestinians are treated by Israelis. His soothing manner and congeniality allowed my own panic to subside. I did notice, however, that the other immigration officers handled up to 20 passengers each, while I was assigned my own exclusively. This annoyed me somewhat, but I practiced the virtue of patience, surprising even myself! The sole hitch in my entry occurred when I handed over my green passport with the words “Palestinian Authority” printed on it.

My officer seemed confused. “What kind of passport is this?” he asked, waving it before me.

“Palestinian,” I answered.

It seemed that Palestinian passport simply did not compute! More gruffly, he asked again, “What passport is it?”

When I repeated my answer, his face lit up and he responded affirmatively, “Oh! A Pakistani passport!”

At that point I was ready to be Pakistani if it meant I could complete the exam! I took a deep breath, wondering “Is this guy for real?” But I quietly told myself, “Patience, Mohammed. Perhaps he’s color blind and cannot read green.”

Several hours later, after a call to Matt Horton, the Washington Report communications director who would be accompanying me on my tour, and who answered yet more questions, America officially allowed me entry and I left the airport for the Washington Report office with news editor Delinda Hanley, who had been waiting for me at Dulles for the hours I was being questioned.

That first evening in Washington I was able to relax with several Palestinian Americans and have a night out on the town. Although still exhausted from my trip, I found the companionship a natural elixir, and my excitement over my upcoming tour quickly built.

“My God! They’ve got him on a brutal schedule,” commented an editor of a California newspaper who saw my itinerary. We definitely had a lot of ground to cover: 22 venues in 15 different cities, from Washington, DC to San Diego, New York and Denver, not to mention Vermont and Texas, in less than three weeks.

Impressions of America

I didn’t know what to expect, having never lived in a country not under occupation. Given the Homeland Security welcome on the plane, I half expected a nation of military zones, with soldiers everywhere. The reality is close to heaven. How lucky Americans are to live without tanks prowling through their streets, shooting at their children as they head off to school. What a blessing for Americans to enjoy walking the streets without helicopter gunships hovering above, indiscriminately bombing neighborhoods and families as they sleep. What joy to travel freely from place to place without military checkpoints, soldiers torturing you simply because they can, with nothing you can do about it. For Americans, bulldozers are used to build homes, malls and offices—not to tear these things down.

The biggest problem Americans have is trying to get around is traffic. And do they love to complain about it! But guess what? There isn’t a Palestinian in Gaza or the West Bank who wouldn’t gladly trade our checkpoints, military rule, tanks, bulldozers and helicopter gunships for the chance to sit in traffic on the freeway for three hours, bumper-to-bumper and going nowhere fast. Our traffic jams last three weeks or more, and we can often be found, men and women alike, camping out for three or four weeks at Abu Holi or one of the hundreds of other checkpoints erected to deny us freedom of movement.

Of course, I realize, if traffic is the worse Americans have to face, this is going to be one amazing journey—and I couldn’t wait to get started!

If one approaches strangers anywhere in the world with warmth in your heart, it is likely to be returned. America is no different. In general, I found people to be relaxed. The worry which permeates Palestinian society, leaving faces worn and ragged, was absent. Nevertheless, America is a contradiction. While some are wealthy beyond imagination, others live in a destitute underworld. I felt empathy for the homeless huddled in doorways, thrown out into the streets of the nation’s capital. They survive even though they are unwanted and often unseen, even when standing among their more fortunate citizens.

I found Americans to be genuine and accommodating, with an unquenchable thirst for understanding. Many are aware of the discrepancy between what their leaders, media, clergy and culture tell them and their nagging sense of information withheld. Those who attended my presentations ran the gamut from poor students struggling to get by, liberal activists and conservative businesspeople, industrialists, entrepreneurs, doctors and lawyers. They represented all faiths, races and age group. Some were what Americans describe as liberals, some conservatives. The desire to understand and learn seemed to transcend false boundaries and divisions created by political agendas.

Welcomed by local—and ignored by mainstream—media, I felt indebted to the brave journalists who provided a platform for the Palestinian voice. This is not easy in the United States, where staunch Zionist activists are determined to quell any inquiry or smother any light. Several American journalists, such as Joseph Sobran and Mike Malloy, have paid a price with their career for telling Palestine’s story without censure.

Thankfully, when away from editors and special interests, journalists around the world share a camaraderie, many hoping to be the next Fisk, Murrow or Pilger who changes the world through words or pictures. I sensed that they approached me with a romanticized vision, however. How can I convey that there is nothing romantic about my life under Israeli occupation! It is a daily matter of life and death, of real flesh and blood. Israeli military snipers target foreign journalists, such as James Miller, who lost his life. Nor do peace activists escape Israel’s vengeance. Rachel Corrie also paid the ultimate price.

Speaking to Americans

My favorite speaking appearance was in New York City, where the audience consisted mostly of students my age and a large contingent of business people from the Network of Arab-American Professionals of New York. Even within the Arab-American population, I found, misconceptions prevailed about the situation Palestinians endure daily. As Americans realize the impact of their unconditional support for Israel’s whims, financially, politically and morally, they begin to question. I also saw frustration. They want to correct the situation but don’t know where—or how—to start.

Zionist groups and individuals opposed to Palestinians or Arabs living in our own homeland did not shy away from representing themselves. Some came to nearly every appearance—as observers, or to film, thwart, question and divert attention from the reality I was there to describe. I found it intriguing to try and guess the antagonists in my audience. They revealed themselves through their questions and attempts to get me to advocate suicide bombings, political agendas or parties, and their historical revisionism—all designed to create an equal playing field between the world’s fourth most powerful nuclear nation and a people without an army living under occupation for 60 years.

And here is where it got amazing in several cities: audience members—Jewish, Muslim and Christian alike—prevented the distracter from disrupting the event. After seeing and hearing my presentation, the audience would have none of it! Once they were exposed to the truth, they refused to be misled. When this happened I truly understood what it meant to be united, free and what it means to Americans to be American. When Americans come together, they don’t care what a person’s race or faith is. They are all American and that is all that counts

In San Francisco a Jewish woman came up to me after my presentation, her eyes searching and full of empathy. “I’m ashamed,” she stated, her voice faltering, “of being an American and a Jew, that this is being committed in my name.”

Hearing statements from this woman and others gives me hope. My work here is making an impact, I felt, and God willing, this injustice will soon end. The comment I received most, even from veteran peace activists and journalists, including Israeli Americans from the peace camp, was a mixture of shame for allowing what is happening and shock that, even for these knowledgeable people, the reality is far worse than they knew. My wish never was to shame anyone, however. Like all Palestinians, I just want this to end.

My disappointment in America’s “free press” was difficult to hide. The mainstream media’s bias is enough to blind a reader. I found no examples of equal or even accurate reporting on the Middle East in any of the major U.S. newspapers, television news programs or radio news and talk format. Any report on the Middle East always adheres to the talking points I’ve seen distributed by the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC), the World Zionist Organization and other pro-Israel groups.

In general, Americans are misled by omission. During my two and a half weeks in the U.S., I saw or read very little about the increasing hell in Gaza and, increasingly, the West Bank. The premise seems to be that Americans are too sensitive to be confronted with the truth. Pardon my anger, but Palestinians are dying because of American ignorance, and this ignorance is delivered daily by a hidden agenda accepted by a media in violation of the principles for which it supposedly stands. This obfuscation and euphemistic spinning of reality is based on politics rather than religion, on Israel’s acquisition of trillions in U.S. aid, its unencumbered military and diplomatic clout in Washington. Like all evils, the destruction of Palestine and Palestinians is all about money and power. How can Americans, with all their freedoms, be so blind? I have trouble grasping this. Don’t Americans realize this is killing them as well?

A Mini-Vacation and Reverie

In Southern California I did get to spend time with friends, wake up with a view of the Pacific Ocean, and ride in a convertible (something unheard of in Gaza) on a beautiful 80-degree December day. I tried eggnog (sweet and rich), mint-flavored M&Ms (quite tasty), and was taken to a very fancy grocery store with enough food to feed half of Gaza for a week. The next morning I discovered what a Harley is, as it chortled and chugged past us as we were eating breakfast at a sidewalk café in Oceanside, drowning out our conversation as my hosts twisted their faces in annoyance while plugging their ears. The mixture of motorcycle fumes with my fruit is not something I recommend!

Americans speak English, but represent every nation, every language, every faith, every race…all living together, side by side, a few squabbles but relatively peaceful and supportive of each other. Imagine if Israel…if Palestine were…

Flying over the Rockies on my way west I couldn’t help but wonder, in one of my moments of frustration: given the hold on U.S. policy by both Christian and Jewish Zionists, why not relocate Israel to the U.S.?

Hear me out on this. Logically, there is plenty of space and Americans—at least those unaware of the facts—seem to love Israel more than their own country. Even President Bill Clinton, while in office, stood up and proclaimed he would “Die for Israel”—and the American people did nothing. For Palestinians and the Jewish Israelis who don’t care about “Jewish-only” mandates and really do want to live together, life would be perfect and we could build our own Isratine. As for the Zionists demanding a Jewish-Only state, ship them over to America and let them create their own Jewish-Only state where people seem to want, love and in many cases, worship them! Problem solved.

But then I remembered. Israel as a Jewish state could never exist in the United States. America has a Constitution and a Bill of Rights which state that all men are created equal. No special privileges, no chosen people, no apartheid, no racism, no segregation; it’s impossible for a theocracy that discriminates based upon faith and race to exist within American borders….Pity, Israel has neither a constitution nor bill of rights. But then, if it did, my tour wouldn’t be necessary.

Trying to Get Back Home

As I waited at the Dulles Airport baggage claim between my arrival from Denver and my return flight to Cairo, I watched with dismay as the contents of my luggage dribbled onto the conveyor belt between other passengers’ bags. A shirt, followed by two pieces of luggage, my pants, then three pieces of luggage, then another piece of luggage…my clothes were arriving, but where was my bag? Several people helped me collect my scattered items and pile them on the floor. Embarrassed and angry, I realized my bag was destroyed. Homeland Security personnel had examined my suitcase and broken the zipper. A baggage representative wearing a Santa Claus hat insisted that the airline was not at fault. I disagreed, but still I needed something to carry my things in. Fortunately, we found a store that sold luggage, and the Washington Report graciously bought me a new bag from an airport store. So began my return home.

On the long flight to Cairo, the Rafah crossing loomed heavily on my mind. I knew that people often had to wait weeks to get back into Gaza, and that some died and others became terribly ill from lack of food, water, sanitation and shelter—a cruel form of collective punishment. And why is this necessary? Since Israel “withdrew” from Gaza, why does it control the border between Gaza and Egypt—a border, in other words, not its own? Would-be travelers enter and exit through EU-observed Palestinian Security and Egyptian security—but Israel decides if we may come or go, who and what may enter or leave, who may live and who will die. Why does no one ask this question?

As far as I knew, the border had not been opened since the four-hour window through which I escaped in November. It was now Hanukah and I was reasonably sure it would remain closed through the Jewish holiday and Christmas (a day, by the way, held in esteem by both Christians and Muslims) a few days later. Gaza still boasts a small Christian community of Baptists, Catholics, Lutherans, Eastern Orthodox and other denominations. But since Israeli law does not allow husbands and wives from the territories and Israel to live together, why would they allow families to reunite for the second holiest day of the Christian calendar? Of course the New Year provided another opportunity for hope and celebration, another small joy likely to be denied out of spite.

These thoughts depressed me, and I was sure the border would remain closed through the end of the year. On top of this, one of my brothers was scheduled for surgery on Dec. 17. I had cut my tour short so I could be by his side and help him recover, but it looked like this, too, would be impossible. Instead I would be stranded with more than 4,000 other people already languishing at the border in a no-man’s-land. With no beds, restrooms or showers, and no food, each day the situation deteriorated. Disease was rampant, as was the smell of unwashed people, especially offensive to an Arab. Our culture, after all, is all about hygiene and cleanliness, hospitality and service to others.

This inhuman situation, similar if not worse than a prison or forced labor camp, reduced us all, from infant to elderly, to animals. Imagine not being able to wash for weeks, not having a restroom or water, no blankets to sleep with, no bed. Imagine being only minutes from your home, yet prevented from getting there simply because someone somewhere decided to make you suffer. Imagine trying to keep your children calm for weeks on end, without food, shelter or any idea of how long you’ll be stranded. And even if you arrived with money, who expects to be stuck at a border crossing for weeks and months for no reason? Before long, your money is gone. Now what do you do? Your fate, health, ability to eat, drink, sleep and move is all in the hands of a nation that doesn’t even consider you human! What do you do?

And then it gets worse.

Israel ordered Rafah closed, so Rafah is closed indefinitely. If you enter the terminal, an eight-gate system more formidable than that of a high security penitentiary, you cannot go forward without Israeli permission, nor can you go back without Egyptian permission. Basically you rot with hundreds of men, women, children and the elderly in cold, rainy winter weather until Israel says you can go home. Even prisoners get barracks. We don’t even get those.

Fortunately I had a temporary Egyptian transit visa and was able to spend my time waiting in Cairo. By the grace of God, a local and simple Internet café in Cairo facilitated phones and computers; an American professor and his wife living in Egypt invited me over for Christmas dinner. All the while the clock was ticking, however, and my time growing short. Once my visa expired on Dec. 27 I would be forced to join the thousands waiting in no-man’s-land and praying each day that it would be the day we were allowed to return to Gaza.

For the first two or three days in Egypt I wait under the illusion that the border will be open tomorrow. Every day the Israelis say “tomorrow.” But tomorrow comes and goes. A week passes, then two and still I and increasing thousands are stranded.

“What brings me back from the United States to this hell?” I asked myself in frustration. Before I left the States, friends encouraged me to stay, enjoy a vacation—go to Disneyland. But now it’s too late for Disneyland. Instead I’m in Cairo with a visa about to expire, just hours from my home—but weeks from arriving. Frantically I write and call officials in Palestine, Egypt and America, including a letter to Secretary of State Rice pleading that she, they pressure Israel to open the border and end this humanitarian crisis. To no avail.

Growing desperate, I tried to think of an alternate route. If one border is closed, perhaps I could enter through another? I tried crossing from Jordan. But Orwell reigns in Israel, which insists that a traveller—at least a Palestinian traveller—must enter and exit via the same crossing. Imagine an American flying to Asia from Los Angeles, stopping in Europe, then returning through New York only to be told, “I’m sorry but since you left through L.A., you must come back through L.A. and we don’t care if it costs you 10 times as much time or money!”
Back to Rafah

As Eid al-Adha approached, the border remained shut. My cash reserves were running low, and my patience had evaporated days ago. I’d been stuck in Cairo for two weeks—but the last 48 hours were the worst, as rumors began to fly again that the border would be opened. Dared I hope? But at last—this time—the rumor was true.

Grabbing my bags I join the torrent rushing toward the border and our homes in Gaza. Israel had said the border would be open for seven hours—from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.—enough time for a only a few hundred to pass through. Since the actual amount of time most likely will be less, getting to the head of the line is paramount. Each of us among the thousands waiting to cross is determined to be one of that few hundred. Competition is stiff. We all want to get home. We all must get home.

As I near the first Egyptian gate, I feel like a sprinter at the starting line. In my mind I hear the gun fire: “And they’re off!”

I must make it through the eight gates that await me—the first four gates controlled by Egypt, the last four through supposedly withdrawn Israel on Gazan territory—then a 20-minute taxi ride on the other side, then home.

After passing through the last Egyptian gate, Israel requires everyone to board a bus to traverse a short, easily walked, distance. Another nonsensical rule, yet I find myself boarding the bus, smashed between desperately tired and fully dehumanized elderly men and women. Manners and respect for my elders requires that I not take a seat. The elderly, women, mothers—all take precedence over a young man of 22. So many sick, tired and defeated people—women with toddlers hanging from their arms, an old woman crumpled in exhaustion. Behind me a blind person touches my shoulder, pleading, “I’m blind; is there anyone to help me?”

My heart aches. Several people offer assistance. I step forward to purchase my bus ticket (another irony: people must forego food to pay for an unnecessary bus ride to get into Gaza). The bus is already crammed to capacity for the few minutes ride. Forbidden to walk, we instead are packed like sardines in a tin can. Five minutes pass, 10 minutes, an hour. After four hours, our bus still hasn’t moved. With room for 48 people, it is packed with 120. To make room, children lie on passengers’ heads. It is raining out, drenching our luggage, which has been left sitting in the mud. The few minutes’ delay stretches into a ordeal without end.

I’m standing in the door, stuck, with no room to bring both legs inside the bus. The rain continues to fall. My feet hurt. I’m tired, cranky and balancing on the edge of the steps. Finally the driver moves to close the door. But my leg and back are stuck, and the doors wedge me between the frame and edge. My breath becomes shallow, and I feel faint. All memories of the U.S. are gone. All I feel is the pain of the door closing on me, as the reason for the delay is explained as a “logistics issue.” It seems the electricity went off, and the live security cameras couldn’t supply the Israeli army with an uninterrupted view of people trying to get home. This also means that the electric gate wouldn’t work, of course. Nobody considered opening it manually.

So we wait for hours, sardines with children sleeping on our heads. Will we be stuck forever in this no-man’s-land? “All they have to do is stamp my passport,” I think, “and in 20 minutes, I’ll be home.”

Nearly three weeks to travel 20 minutes. That’s Israeli time—for Palestinians.
Looks Like We Made It!

Late in the afternoon we finally made it through the Rafah border gates. My passport is stamped by Palestinian officers, as EU observers look on. Their only purpose is political, since they work under Israeli orders. With a little more hassle my luggage is checked, and I start into Gaza through the fifth electric gate then the sixth. The seventh gate is where people begin to gather in anticipation of the arrival of friends and relatives. Finally I cleared the eighth gate. Now all I needed was a taxi to take me home.

Nearly a month and a half after I left Gaza, I stumble, weary yet thankful, through the front door of our humble home. My 5-year-old brother, Osama runs up to greet me, eyes bright and laughing.

“I’m happy they opened the border at the end. Welcome back from America!” he cries happily.

Welcome back, indeed. Dorothy was right. There really is no place like home.

Mohammed Omer, winner of New America Media’s Best Youth Voice award, reports from the Gaza Strip, where he maintains the Web site <www.rafahtoday.org>. He can be reached at <gazanews@yahoo.com>.

Comment 10: “There is a wide variety of fine anti-Israel training available throughout the country.”

Should I take this a compliment?

This is an interview by Morteza Jabbari with Matt Horton- Public Relations Officer with Washington report of Middle East Affairs – concerning America’s production of new generation of nuclear bombs.

Question: The US administration recently announced that it would produce new miniature nuclear bombs within next four years. Why the US administration is trying to expand its nuclear arsenal despite international concerns with regards to the spread of weapons of mass destruction?

Answer: I don’t think this is anything new. I think this fits into a pattern of US nuclear development. I have been talking about the so-called bunker buster nuclear weapons for a while now and if you ask from the US Defense Department for over 500 billion dollars within the next bill for funding. If you look at military spending it is more than all the rest of the world combined. So I don’t this is anything new. This is just one small piece in the general militarization of the United States.

Question: What are the characteristics of these tactical bombs?

Answer: They are designed to penetrate deep into the ground supposedly to give the United States the ability to destroy underground facilities or other things like that. That is my understanding.

Question: Don’t you think this program could increase the possibility of applying nuclear weapons by the US?

Answer: Of course, if you make something designed to be used, so I think all these things generally set into the idea that the United States is going to be a constant war for decades. That is to the people in power in United States, I think that is what they are looking at and that is what they want because they are profiting from it and are able to use it for distract people about their ways that they are taking power away from the people here.

Question: Could you see any relationship between this program and America’s recent substitution of preemptive doctrine?

Answer: Yes, of course. The more of military ability that the United States can boast, the more can they contrary to sell it. So it is to the American people that the war is easier and have less casualties than it is necessary to do with things and if easy to do with things but I think that it has been demonstrated in Iraq that it is really a bunch of lies and spending all this money on the military haven’t made America safer, hasn’t made the world safer, hasn’t made Iraq safer. I hope that people will start open their eyes to see that this really is in the best way, if only we could spend on these military projects, on health care and education and feeding people and clothing people, I think will live in a much safer and more just world.

Question: They say that they are creating these weapons for having a safe world. Do you think that they really are really thinking about a safe world by creating such weapons?

Answer: Weapons of mass destruction can never create safe world. This is completely backward logic. It is the same kind of logic here that if everybody has a gun then everybody is going to be safer. There has been study upon studies have demonstrated that these are weapons to kill people. It is illogical to think that it is going to make the world safer because sooner or later somebody is going to use this war for his intended purpose.

Question: Isn’t it a double standard when the US has more than one thousand nuclear warheads capable of destroying the whole world and yet objecting to Iran civilian and peaceful use of nuclear energy?

Answer: I certainly think that is a double standard. You know for them to say that they are responsible with nuclear weapons and they can have them and basically the white nations of the world allow that nuclear weapons for the rest of the world is not, or only the strategic partner such as India who hasn’t signed on to nuclear non- proliferation treaties or Israel who hasn’t signed on to nuclear non- proliferation treaties. You know to have them support these countries almost limitlessly and say that other countries can have them is completely hypocritical. That is why I think that people who are concerned with human rights around the world should be against anybody having nuclear weapons.

Question: What do you think about consequences of having such an arm’s race in the US, concerning the fact that the cold war has been ended and there is no need for such a thing?

Answer: I mean I honestly see the effects of it here on the ground in the United States. Most of those countries resources are being used toward things that are not for the average person. That is not to improve their daily lives and costs are going up. Your know people have losing jobs. The entire economy is becoming geared toward unsustainable things and so it is not only threatening the wellbeing and security of people around the world. It is although a threatening the wellbeing of the people here in the United States. They just don’t seem to really understand the fact that their kids do not have textbooks on their schools is directly related to tanks being on the ground in Iraq. I think this is really unsustainable. I think that the United States is completely greedy in its empire and ultimately I think it is going to hurt the United States in the long run.

Question: Israel and India are not the signatories of the NPT but they are helped by the American administration in promoting their nuclear program, but Iran is a member of NPT and IAEA but it is being opposed by the US for promoting its peaceful use of nuclear energy. Is it related to Iran’s policy toward the US or some other parameters?

Answer: I think that is certainly the case. I don’t think anybody who is thinking logically can come any other conclusion. It is obvious that they are treating Iran differently than other nations. I think it is clear.

END

Vol. XXIII, #9 (November 2004)
Southern California Chronicle

International Solidarity Movement volunteers (l-r) Kevin D’amato, Matt Horton and Tamara Rodino. (staff photos S. Twair).

---

Peace Under Fire, a book published by International Solidarity Movement volunteers, relates their extraordinary acts of bravery to protect Palestinians from Israeli oppression. On Sept. 4, several contributors to the book (available through the AET Book Club) spoke to at least 60 people at Skylight Books in the trendy Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles.

Kevin D’amato explained that ISM practices nonviolent methods to resist military and settler abuse of Palestinians. Activities include Freedom Summer, in which volunteers from all over the world come to the West Bank and Gaza to protest construction of the Apartheid Wall and Israeli roadblocks, house demolitions and uprooting of olive trees. The other major event is the Olive Harvest in October and November, when ISM volunteers assist Palestinians in harvesting their olive crops amid attacks by Jewish settlers.

Being an ISM volunteer is not for the faint-hearted. An Israeli-driven Caterpillar bulldozer crushed Rachel Corrie as she tried to protect a Gaza home from demolition, and Tom Hurndall was fatally shot as he sheltered Palestinian children from Israeli bullets. Another ISMer, Brian Avery, was shot in the face and is maimed for life.

Garrick Ruiz, who spent the summers of 2002 and 2003 in Palestine, read “A Long Night in Gaza,” his account of the night he spent with a family of 10 who must live with a neighbor because the Israelis destroyed their house. The night was July 23, 2002, when an Israeli F-16 dropped a one-ton bomb in heavily populated Gaza City. Five homes were destroyed, 16 were killed and more than 100 injured.

Ruiz was with his adopted family in Rafah, where the men stayed awake all night, listening to the news and watching the movement of tanks that always fire after midnight.

“Just hours before the one-ton bomb was dropped, Hamas had declared a cease-fire,” Ruiz explained. “So the Israeli response was to attack Hamas.”

Matt Horton discussed his summer of 2002 at the al-Farah Camp, between Nablus and Jenin. He stayed with a family which was trying to stop the demolition of their house because a son had blown himself up weeks earlier.

“It’s against the 4th Geneva Convention to carry out collective punishment,” Horton said, “but the Israelis destroy the homes of freedom fighters with no fear of international condemnation. The Palestinians have a long tradition of nonviolent resistance, such as the 24-day hunger strike 2,500 political prisoners have just ended.”

Tamara Rodino, who was in the West Bank in 2002, has given a Power Point talk at several Southern California campuses on the atrocities she witnessed. Along with 30 percent of ISM volunteers, she emphasized, she is Jewish. She often rode in ambulances, she said, since her presence, as an American, protected Palestinian medics from being beaten by Israeli soldiers.

“Nablus and Jenin have put up a violent resistance,” she explained, “and so they make these cities off limits to internationals. The mindset of the Palestinians is they will not be made refugees once more and they will give their lives before they give up their land.”

Pat and Samir Twair are free-lance journalists based in Los Angeles.

Uprising Radio with host Sonali Kolhatkar
August 13, 2004
Show #081304
KPFK 90.7 FM, Los Angeles

TOPIC: Peace Under Fire: Israel/Palestine and the International Solidarity Movement

GUESTS: Garrick Ruiz, Matt Horton and Tamara (To-mara) Rettino, contributors to “Peace Under Fire”

The Palestinian Center for Human Rights (PCHR) asserted in its weekly report that Israeli forces committed war crimes against Palestinian civilians during the current week.

Also mentioned was that during the current week, five civilians including four children were killed by Israeli troops, including many wounded, some critically, in addition to the vast destruction of homes, properties and arable lands. Today we’ll speak with members of the International Solidarity Movement which was founded as an international movement of peaceful resistance to the violence. It’s highly visible actions, which have included breaking the sieges in Ramallah and Bethlehem, as well as saving countless lives, have shone a spotlight on Israel’s occupation. And their accounts of the resistance have been captured in a new book published by Verso books called “Peace Under Fire: Israel/Palestine and the International Solidarity Movement”. For more information visit www.palsolidarity.org and to get in touch with local activists in the ISM, email sustain_la@yahoo.com.

There will be two free events in the Los Angeles area in support of the book.
Saturday 8/14, 7pm at 33 1/3 Books and Gallery Collective 1200 N. Alvarado Blvd.
Echo Park, 90026
DJ’s, spoken word, hip-hop, and readings

Saturday September 4th, 5pm at Skylight Books
1818 N. Vermont Avenue
Los Feliz, 90027
Readings by contributors

by Carolyn Gallaher
ACME: An International E-Journal for Critical Geographies
Vol. 3, #1 (2004)

School of International Service, American University. 4400 Massachusetts Ave. NW,
Washington DC 20016
Email: caroleg@american.edu

When I completed the final page proofs for On the Fault Line: Race, Class, and the American Patriot Movement, I felt a sense of release. The next step was uncertain – critics might applaud my book, tear it to shreds, or worst of all simply ignore it – but the hard work of writing it was behind me. After five years of research I was ready to bid the Patriot Movement farewell. I would no longer have to spend afternoons deciphering complicated conspiracy theories. I could make a valiant effort to rein in my coffee addiction. And best of all, my friends could finally have a conversation with me that did not involve a mention of guns, militias, or right-wing politics. This is not to suggest, of course, that I felt no fear or panic. I felt a great deal of both, but I was ready to move on. My book felt like a baby to me, and I like an expectant mother just past her due date.

Of course, if we follow the metaphor, we know that birth is just the beginning. And so it has been for me. On the Fault Line has sparked debate; the critics have responded (Berlet 2004; Durham 2004; Flint 2004; Horton 2004). For me the feedback has been welcome. Commentary (even in disagreement) means someone took the time to consider my arguments and have a serious dialogue about them. I begin this piece, therefore, by extending heartfelt thanks to the participants in this virtual roundtable. And although she is not a part of this forum, many thanks are also due my editor, Brenda Hadenfeldt, whose patience and support make such a forum possible in the first place.

The comments of my critics are both thorough and wide-ranging. In this essay I will address three criticisms that struck me as particularly salient to the issue of right-wing politics today. In so doing, I hope to fine-tune some of the arguments I made in my book, stand firm on others, and ’fess up to the mistakes of still others.

On selecting topics

When I decided to study the Patriot Movement, I had every intention of conducting a highly critical analysis. I chose my topic in 1996, just over a year after the horrific bombing of the Murrah federal building in Oklahoma City. The loss of 168 lives, many of them children, was hard to fathom. Moreover, even though most militia groups decried the bombing, the attention they garnered after the bombing did little to burnish their image. John Trochman of the Militia of Montana peddled conspiracies about UN troops preparing to take over the US government while patriot internet chatter explained that the US had been occupied by a Zionist cabal plotting one world government.

I never abandoned a critical stance during my research, but at some point I realized my analysis would have to be more than ‘just critical.’ To understand the movement I would have to make an effort to stand, however briefly, in the shoes of a group largely reviled and ridiculed and to see things as they saw them. Opening myself up to the nuances of the movement was gradual, but two factors were especially important in prompting a change in my approach. Meeting my subjects was clearly crucial. Reading about “gun-toting rednecks” was one thing, talking to them another. People have a way of being, well human, when you actually converse with them. And, humanity is always more complicated than stereotypes suggest. Reflecting on my experiences with colleagues and friends was also influential. Perhaps, because the subject was so ‘exotic,’ my friends had numerous questions about my informants, and answering them required considered reflection on my part.

Over time, I came to realize that patriots were not one-dimensional, cardboard cutout figures. Rather, I discovered that they occupy conflicting social positions – working class and particularly vulnerable to neoliberal trade policies, but also white and benefiting from the social privileges that attend it. I began to wonder why so many working class people had opted for a politics that offered baseless conspiracies and hollow solutions to free trade mantras. A simple question came to nag me – did it have to be this way? Perhaps, I thought, the Left could have something to say to the average militia member.

What about specifics?

While each of my critics applauds the political nature of my project, all note the general lack of concrete suggestions for activists in it. While Niedt applauds my analysis for its “political urgency and self-reflexivity,” for example, he finds my political vision “less satisfying.” Likewise, Miller argues that the question of how to funnel working class grievances is not fully addressed in my book, suggesting that a comparative study on a progressive movement in a rural place might help “account for the radically different politics” of rural, white males.

These criticisms are justified. They point to a clear lacuna in my work. On the Fault Line has nine chapters, a “Note on Method,” and an “Epilogue,” but none of these is devoted exclusively to the question of how the Left might counter-mobilize white workers who stand on a fault line. I discuss the issue in the concluding chapter, but the majority of my comments there are focused on a theoretical argument about connections between Marxism and poststructuralism. When I organized the structure of my book, I had no intention of discussing activism. Given the limited academic work that had been conducted to date on the movement, I felt it needed first and foremost to be thoroughly contextualized vis-à-vis neoliberalism. Katz is on target when she says my book was primarily designed to “assist if not goad leftist political organizers.” Indeed, I felt the academic Left was not so much in need of an organizing handbook as it was a reminder that class continues to be an important site of oppression and that if abdicated by the Left will be mobilized by the Right in particularly regressive, xenophobic ways.

If I had it to do over again, however, I would add a chapter on activism. In it I would include a review of key issues around which the Left in Kentucky could mobilize as well as a compilation of resources available to activists. I would also discuss how activists can overcome racial barriers in the mobilization process. In crafting such a discussion I would draw on Zoltán Grossman and Debra McNutt’s work (2003) on Native American and rural white community alliances, which I read after completing my book. Their work demonstrates that multi-racial coalitions can be viable when based around single issues. They also find that coalitions that downplay racial differences are actually less viable than those that acknowledge or even foreground their differences. Indeed, multiracial coalitions appear to function well around anti-corporatist struggles. These findings could also be fruitfully examined, as Miller suggests, in the context of social movements theory, which has developed an important ‘tool kit’ for predicting the viability of movements and coalitions.

Citizenship and the Left?

My argument about citizenship and identity politics was also troubling, especially for Niedt. To recap briefly, I argue that the Left should proffer a progressive notion of citizenship that competes with Patriots’ ethnocentric and antagonistic view of citizenship. A progressive citizenship should be constructed around a discursive chain of equivalences between leftist identity politics and working class concerns. In so doing the Left could reverse its slow neglect of class politics while also connecting it in more fundamental ways to the new identity politics that now predominate within its quarters.

Niedt worries about the categorical viability of a Leftist citizenship. He is apprehensive, for example, that a Leftist citizenship might rely on an antagonistic construction of its others — the guardians of privilege — and thus by virtue of its antagonism be no better an alternative than what the Right currently proffers. He is also concerned that a politic of citizenship focused on celebrating and equating differences does nothing to eliminate the “reproduction of privilege [and] the development of corporatist politics.” Though not stated as such, Niedt’s concern centers on how the Left might develop a notion of citizenship that avoids both antagonism and blind quiescence to unfair structures.

In response I would argue that one need not hate white people to recognize white privilege. Likewise, one can recognize that the accumulation of capital is often at the expense of workers without despising capitalists like George Soros or Bill Gates. Indeed, there are structures that maintain white dominance and economic stratification, and the state often protects them. As such, in On the Fault Line I argue that it is incumbent on the Left to call on a different role for the state – one that actively intervenes on behalf of workers who cross numerous fault lines of identity. This is vital because the Patriot Movement’s response to the neoliberal state is to hunker down behind essentialist identity categories territorially bounded through invocations to local sovereignty. Not only is such a space/identity configuration antagonistic, it prohibits workers from developing links across geographic and categorical divides. The state has changed under neoliberalism, but it is not going away. The left should therefore envision a state that is accountable to its citizens and immigrants alike.

It is worth noting here that other movements on the New Right have used antistatist discourses as an excuse to assault federal entitlement programs designed to assist traditionally othered groups. The so called Republican ‘Revolution’ of 1994, for example, was sold as a remedy to incompetent, corrupt government, but its proposed solutions largely focused on undoing programs like welfare and affirmative action. Indeed, while welfare was attacked for its presumed corruption, tax and regulatory loopholes benefiting corporations were left alone or even strengthened. In such a context, the Left must actively posit a role for the state, or risk conceding to right-wing dictates about global competition, efficiency, and privatization.

Niedt is also wary of the efficacy of pluralist citizenship because he feels I underestimate the strength of whites’ attachment to racial privilege. This unease leads Niedt to argue that “the search for opportunities to dismantle material and discursive structures – including those that marginalize patriots – must take precedence over the political inclusion of the right.” He suggests that the strength of attachment to white privilege should lead to a reformation of a key question in my book. Instead of asking “can and should we organize the right?” Niedt suggests that we should query “can and should we organize parts of the right?”

It is important to note, however, that the crux of my argument is not that the Left should mobilize the Right, but that it should have something to say to white workers, and white workers are not by necessity right wing. Niedt’s comments suggest that the two are interchangeable. An alignment between workers and the New Right is true in many places in the US today, but there is no historical rule that says race will always trump class. Such connections are contingent, at least in part, on the efforts of activists on both sides of the political spectrum.

I remain sympathetic, however, to Niedt’s pessimism about the strength of white attachment to racial privileges. And, I acknowledge that the Left will never draw all white workers to a pluralist identity politic. I would suggest, however, that no movement can expect to mobilize all of its target population. Moreover, as I suggest in On the Fault Line, the discursive framework of today’s identity politics makes attachment to whiteness attractive for many white males. The white heterosexual male is often posited as the enemy in Leftist identity politics, and in the absence of broad categories such as class or citizenship that bring people together across lines of difference, white workers are likely to fall back on their race to define themselves, and of importance for this book, to frame their anxiety with globalization. Indeed, the Patriot Politic is strong not because it draws on people’s bigotry in the first instance, but because it provides a big tent under which a variety of concerns are acknowledged. It is often only after mobilization that racist and otherwise conspiratorial aspects of the movement are fully revealed (see Aho 1990 for a similar finding). Mobilizing white workers will not be easy, but mobilizing rarely is.

The relative absence of class politics on the Left is an important point to reiterate. Indeed, even progressive scholars often assume that white workers have a full buffet of political choices before them rather than a narrowing political field. In a review of On the Fault Line outside this forum, for example, Flint (2004) suggests that workers reject class politics because they are aware of its abuses by regimes such as Stalin’s in Russia. The movement’s anti-statism is thus “an obvious partner” to anticommunism and explains a good deal of patriots’ rejection of class politics. I strongly disagree with Flint’s assessment. It ignores both the steady decline in unions during the last twenty years (due in large part to the decline of the manufacturing sector) and the new era of union busting precipitated by Ronald Reagan’s brash lock-out of air-traffic controllers in 1981. These structural changes indicate that while class politics may be a choice, the viability of that choice (vis-à-vis other choices such as whiteness) is contingent on the state and progressive institutions in civil society.

Enduring (v. or adj.) dilemmas in the field

A final criticism of my book is methodological in nature. Katz’ commentary is particularly focused on methodological concerns. She is troubled, for example, by my use of the phrase “poststructural methodology,” suggesting that the phrase is unclear, even “opaque.” The indicators I define as poststructural, she argues, have been “incorporated into virtually all ‘post-positivist’ research and has even been recognized by many working in more positivist ways.”

When I wrote the “Note on Method” section in my book I used the term poststructural methodology as shorthand to denote the methodology employed by identity scholars in Geography who drew on leading postmodern thinkers, including Foucault, Derrida, and LaClau and Mouffe among others. Katz is correct, however, that there is no “poststructural methodology” in the same way there is a quantitative or qualitative methodology. This is a fair criticism, and I accept it. The terminology is not precise enough to capture the literature I was discussing.

As a person who was doing an identity study of the Patriot Movement, however, I can say that the identity literature provided little in the way of guidance for my particular study. As I note earlier, when I began this study I had every intention of being highly critical of the Patriot Movement. My study was also political from the start. In studying the movement I hoped to expose the strategies and tactics of a movement that blames traditional others (immigrants, Jews, feminists, gay people) for its woes.

Looking to identity studies for guidance for a political project was a natural place to start. Not only was I engaging identity studies in (and out) of Geography, but such studies have a history of being explicitly political. Indeed, the earliest feminist writings in the discipline were designed to uncover and lay bare the oppression of women. The same can be said for works on race, sexual orientation, and disability. Studying the marginalized was often designed to highlight the oppression they suffered and consider how to eliminate it. Given the focus on marginalized groups, however, most methodology in identity work assumes a shared political vision between the researcher and the researched and is tailored appropriately. Indeed, many studies discuss how researchers can assure that their research is useful to their informants and how the researcher’s work can be useful to the wider cause in which it is situated.

While my project was political, it was neither aligned with, nor designed to further a patriot politics. In my context, several of the concrete suggestions identity studies offered seemed not only in-congruent but counter-productive. The idea of strategic essentialism, for example, had no bearing for my project. Likewise, while the idea of sharing drafts with my informants was not incongruent, it did raise concerns for me. I worried, for example, that sharing my findings (which were politically divergent and critical) might lead an informant to cut off my access to others in the movement.

Katz is correct, however, that I could have expounded on a number of methodological issues. In particular, Katz’s question – “who was exercising what kinds of power?” – strikes me as especially fruitful to unpack. Identity scholars are accustomed to interrogating the power differentials between privileged researchers and marginalized research subjects. Examining groups like the Patriot Movement, however, present a complex situation. As an academic, I had many of the same advantages over my research subjects as those who study recognizably marginalized groups. However, Patriots also held power over me. Patriots were determined to broadcast their message, and they knew my desire for access could work to their advantage. As I acknowledge in my book, I worried about becoming an unwitting mouthpiece for the movement and fear I crossed the line in one instance.

Studying armed groups can also be potentially dangerous because members often come to interviews with weapons. I was fortunate that none of my subjects ever threatened me. Nor did anyone try to intimidate me by flaunting (or subtly displaying) a weapon. Such scenarios do happen, however. In Inside Organized Racism: Women in the Hate Movement (2002) Sociologist Kathleen Blee recounts being intimidated by subjects. At an author meets critic roundtable for her book at the 2003 annual meetings of the American Sociological Association, Blee suggested that researching the Far Right has become too dangerous. She now advises students against doing research on these groups.

While I do not agree with Blee’s prescription, I believe it is incumbent on those who study the Right to devise guidelines for how researchers might protect themselves ethically and physically. Space prohibits me from delving into many specifics here, but I believe it is crucial for university institutional review boards to develop protocols for how researcher should protect themselves. As the nature of political violence changes in the 21st century (see Kaldor 2001), understanding it becomes vitally important. Just as vital, however, is the establishment of guidelines to protect researchers who do this work.

Returning to the Movement?

Although I was happy to bid the Patriot Movement farewell, I maintain a strong curiosity in it. Indeed, I often find myself wondering how the Movement will reconcile its view of patriotism with the uncritical, flag-waving patriotism advocated by those in other quarters of the Right since September 11th, 2001. I am equally curious about the movement’s response to the heightened security environment since the September 11th attacks. Will patriots accept the government’s expanded powers (and even sanction its use against traditional Others) or will patriots decide to go ‘underground’ and to adopt a criminal strategy in response? I may yet return to this topic, and should I do so, I will be indebted to the commentary of my critics here. Their insights will sharpen any future research I conduct, and my sincere thanks go to all of them.

References

Aho, James. 1990. The Politics of Righteousness: Idaho Christian Patriots. Seattle: University of Washington Press.

Berlet, Chip. 2004. Militias in the Frame. Contemporary Sociology. 33(5): 514-521. Fine Tuning, Standing Firm, ‘Fessing Up 17

Blee, Kathleen. 2002. Inside Organized Racism: Women in the Hate Movement. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Durham, Martin. 2004. Review of On the Fault Line: Race, Class, and the American Patriot Movement (Rowman and Littlefield, 2003). Mobilization 9(1).

Flint, Colin. 2004. Review of On the Fault Line: Race, Class, and the American Patriot Movement (Rowman and Littlefield, 2003). Annals of the Association of American Geographers 94(2): 431-433

Grossman, Zoltán and McNutt, Debra. 2003. From Enemies to Allies: In Multiracial Formations: New Instruments for Social Change (G. Delgado, ED). Oakland: Applied Research Center.

Horton, Matt. 2004. White Patriots: A Review of On the Fault Line: Race, Class, and the American Patriot Movement. Left Turn 11: 82-83.

Kaldor, Mary. 2001. New and Old Wars: Organized Violence in a Global Era. Stanford: Stanford University Press.

April 29, Tuesday
“Pictures from Palestine”

Matt Horton from the International Solidarity Movement will present an eye-opening slide show on Palestine and discuss his experiences as a peace activist in the West Bank and Gaza Strip.
7 PM, California State University, Northridge, Sequoi Hall #104

By LAUREN FERRIS
Staff Writer
The University of California, San Diego Guardian
Tuesday, January 21st, 2003

Guardian Money matters: According to UC Divestment speaker Nagwa Ibrahim, the University of California has about $7 million invested in Israeli companies. “This money comes out of the tuition and alumni grants,” Ibrahim said on Jan. 15 in Center Hall. (Photo: Hana Hsu)

Guardian Comparison: Speaker Matt Horton likened the political status of Palestinians to South African apartheid. (Photo: Hana Hsu)

---

As part of its week-long Israeli-Palestinian conflict awareness campaign, Students for Justice hosted a lecture regarding the recently increased efforts to lobby the United States and the University of California to divest money from Israel and companies within the state. Nagwa Ibrahim and Matt Horton, both former residents of Israeli-controlled Palestinian territory, delivered the lecture promoting their organization, UC Divestment. The group has lobbied the UC Board of Regents to divest its money out of companies in business with Israel and the nation’s army.

“One of the things that has captured the minds of a lot of people is that analogy with what is happening in the Palestine state to the apartheid state in South Africa,” Horton said, referring to a similar campaign carried out in the 1980s to protest the racist practices of the South African government.

Ibrahim also related these experiences to the apartheid that took place in South Africa. Specifically, she pointed to checkpoints, the unequal distribution of wealth and resources, and the practice of collective punishment that Ibrahim said exist in the occupied Palestinian territory.

Ibrahim and Horton called for another divestment of American funds, like the one in South Africa to end what they called another apartheid regime in Israel. Ibrahim spoke specifically about the UC Regents investment in companies invested in Israel.

“[The University of California] has $7 million invested in Israeli companies,” Ibrahim said. “This money comes out of the tuition and alumni grants.”

Ibrahim spoke about what people can do as students and as citizens of the United States to further the divestment effort, once again drawing upon a comparison to South Africa.

“The South Africa apartheid regime could not have been successfully dismantled without a strong financial divestment from American companies and citizens.”

Some of the students who were in attendance came to learn more about the topic.

“I’m interested in divestment,” said John Muir College junior Sina Shayesteh. “I wanted to get another point of view, and the solutions they offered were very good.”

Eleanor Roosevelt College junior Sarah Abukar also came to increase his knowledge.

“I just wanted to come and support the cause, learn more about the plight of the Palestinians, find out what I can do,” Abukar said.

Other attendees, such as Revelle College junior Sam Litvin, felt the lecture did not offer other aspects to the divestment debate.

“I did feel that they weren’t open to all sides,” Litvin said.

This forum was one of several in a series presented by Students for Justice.

Another speaker, professor Abdel Abdel-Nour from San Diego State University, spoke on Jan. 16 about the Israeli-Palestinian peace process efforts that have taken place over the past decade.