The tragedy that continues to unfold in Palestine/Israel is a tragedy that eschews any easy answers and brings a host of complexities into play. Even trying to describe the situation objectively is fraught with the possibility of saying too much in one direction or another, not saying enough, missing a key part of the context, or leaving a wrong impression that quickly needs clarification. One consequence of this difficulty is that college and university campuses – some of the few spaces in our country where dialogue and free speech are deliberately encouraged – have had outbreaks of intolerance and in some cases threats against others. Even organizations that strive to bring diverse religious voices together are struggling to do so. Just last month, one of the local interfaith groups cancelled a concert and annual Unity Dinner, with a note that painfully admits, “At a time of empathetic distress that is touching so many lives, we feel that it may be best for us to pause and reflect.”
The need to pause and reflect is important and can be, in itself, an act of courage and compassion. At the same time, our commitments to peace, justice, compassion, and hope behoove us to say something, when so many lives have been lost and so much trust has been violated, with human violence as the cause. It raises the question: Can we create space to name our agreements, notice our biases, acknowledge our disagreements, and still look for ways where justice and peace can prevail?
It is uncertain whether persons of faith and good will – much less beholden politicians, victims, and extremists – can imagine together a lasting path toward peace and justice. If such a possibility does arise, the pathway toward peace might proceed along these lines.
It seems that most people of faith and good will agree that …
- The Hamas attack against unarmed non-combatants, was wrong.
- Using hostages as human shields is wrong.
- The killing of youth and children is wrong.
And it seems that most people of faith and good will agree …
- Militaries bombing civilian populations is wrong.
- Shutting off a nation’s supply of water, gas, electricity, and phone lines is wrong.
- The killing of youth and children is wrong.
The six uses of the word “wrong” above will strike some people as insufficient. I do not disagree entirely, but would point out that “wrong” can include sharper descriptions such as “hideous,” “atrocious,” and “evil.” The word “wrong” can provide a gathering point for those who may not agree on whether the harsher terms could apply to all six observations. Even trying to name things we agree on demonstrates immense challenges the current conflict brings with regard to context, rhetoric, and strategy.
When it comes to the contexts – the ongoing stories of Israel and Palestine, the conditions within each country that have been in play to this point, the geo-political alignments in the Middle East and around the globe – many different narratives are at play. Each of them can be defended from one angle and each of them can be questioned from another. That is not to say that they are equally valid, but it does speak to the difficulty of finding some kind of path forward. Even bywords of newscasts remind us of the extremely troubling context that has been in place for a long time. When we hear of a breach in the barrier separating Palestine and Israel, it reminds us that a barrier exists and has been a matter of debate for a long time. It has been defended as a necessary security measure by some, decried as a dehumanizing measure by others. When we hear that the Jabalya refugee camp was bombed with airstrikes, it reminds us that refugee camps exist and that there have been thousands of displaced persons within Palestine before the current iteration of the conflict. The struggle over the context is a huge challenge. If, for example, Palestinians and Israelis want to follow the “truth and reconciliation” path that was forged in post-Apartheid South Africa, the first questions might be, “Whose truth?” and “Which context?”
Speaking of post-Apartheid South Africa, there is also a tremendous challenge of what rhetoric is appropriate to describe the past, present, and future possibilities for Palestinians and Israelis. Words like “occupation” or analogies to South African “apartheid” are highly contested in themselves. Likewise, common terms like “civilian” and “innocent” have been qualified in the current violence. Some voices from within Palestine have argued that, since every Israeli is required to serve in the military, there are no true “civilians” or “non-combatants” among them, even among their youth and children who will one day be soldiers. Some voices from within Israel have argued that since Hamas has embedded its fighters, weaponry, and logistics within local neighborhoods, that Hamas has obliterated any notion of “innocent bystanders” in their cities. Even the word “ceasefire” has been debated – does it signify a humanitarian act or a concession that leaves the attack of October 7 unpunished? That question is partly why President Biden has chosen to speak of a “humanitarian pause,” rather than a ceasefire. If Palestinians and Israelis reach a point where there is some kind of dialogue – even the minimal communication of a surrender, a ceasefire, or humanitarian pause – the essential act of finding a language to which all sides could agree would be extremely difficult.
And speaking of “all sides,” there are challenges of strategy, beginning with who actually represents whom. Hamas was voted into power in 2006 by a plurality, not a majority, of Palestinians. Palestinians have not had elections since then, begging the question of whether Hamas can genuinely represent a majority of Palestinians. For its part, Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu is under indictment for corruption, has been under fire for trying to disempower the judicial branch of Israel’s government, managed to maintain power by aligning with the most anti-Palestinian parties in Israel’s parliament, and has admitted that there must be accountability on the governments part for being caught by complete surprise on October 7. One of the effects of the October 7 attack has been to stave off immediate accountability for Netanyahu’s government – as one would expect in a time of grief and anger. If or when the “two sides” sit down to make even the smallest agreements, who speaks for whom? Who can be trusted to have ordinary Palestinians and Israelis best interests in mind?
If representative voices can be identified and trusted enough to pursue a future course, there are some things that are clear and there are some things that are murky. What is clear is that even by the minimal definition of the U.N. Declaration of Human Rights, there are innocent lives that have been and are being lost in both Israel and Palestine. What is clear is that the current situation is unsustainable. What is clear is that a wider regional conflict would be disastrous for many countries, including our own, and could easily trigger a global conflict. Those who are working for peace are facing daunting work even before deciding whether a “two-state solution” or some other long-term vision is possible.
We read that over 1,400 lives were lost in the October 7 attacks, and over 10,000 lives have been lost in the retaliatory strikes. Our tendency is to keep score, whether it satisfies us or horrifies us, whether we think it is self-defense or disproportionality. We read that many of those who have been killed are not direct combatants. Nonetheless, their deaths have been justified by their killers in some way or another as casualties of the struggle. We continue to make distinctions between this people and that, of deserving victims and the innocent victims. We recognize that not all violence is the same. Still, one thing we can say is that, since October 6, over 11,400 human lives have been lost due to deliberate human violence. Perhaps the way forward needs to begin with that gathering, stark truth.
