As Israeli Apartheid Week on campus begins, tensions between students on either side of the Israeli-Palestinian divide are sure to rise. Words will have the power of knives, and passion will win out against ignorance. Yet, there will be many students either too uninformed or too indifferent to "pick a side," preferring to wade in calmer waters by saying things like, "Everyone wants peace," and "Well, you have to see the other side of the story."
But in the vein of this column, let's get real: one side of the story is called oppressed. The other side of the story is called oppression.
While it's much more comfortable for many to straddle the divide, it would be a bit harder if that divide was not metaphorical. If, perhaps, an actual wall fortified it - separation and dehumanization solidified by concrete and steel - it would be easier to understand the outrage, to understand the madness. Yet still, many will find the age-old (not really) issue of Israel and Palestine too intractable, too obvious and too foreign for them to give a rat's ass.
Once upon a time, I was that guy - uninformed and completely unaware of the internationally supported oppression and injustice being carried out against millions in the name of security and freedom for others. As an African-American and Latino, understanding how systems of oppression, economic starvation and dehumanization work to codify white supremacy and belittle black and brown bodies to the point of torture is not so much an academic pursuit as it is a tool for survival. As an American, I am disturbed that as we speak, Secretary of State John Kerry is acting in my name and the names of all Americans in brokering a deal between Israel and Palestine that would make 40 acres and a mule look like The New Deal. I am disturbed that, we applaud our relationship with Israel as if we've righteously befriended the nerdy kid on the playground, and then do nothing as he abuses the human rights and eradicates any potential for self-determination and self-governance of millions of human beings. What sick and twisted jungle gym will we claim as our own doing 100 years from now?
Outrage helps validate our emotions and provides context for what few words can manage to express. But outrage is useless if it does not spur action. Outrage is useless if it does not evoke words to rise out of the throats of the silent and the weak, as well as the loud and powerful. Outrage is only what we can make it, and, sometimes, determining what that looks like is a lot easier said than done. I write all of this because not only do I personally stand in solidarity with Students for Justice in Palestine around the country this week, but also because our university's own chapter remains indignant and unshaken in their pursuit to make us more conscious and more considerate of what is being done in our names and what modern day political enslavement looks like.
Respect and toleration are two very different things - I can respect my fellow man without signing off on his refusal to stand up for what is right.
I can respect my government (not even sure that I should) without rubber-stamping negotiations that stop at self-determination and freedom for millions. Surely, I can respect Israel's existence without tolerating the crimes and torture against Palestinians it carries out daily, tolerating the blocking of virtually all exports from a devastated Palestinian economy, tolerating the legality of injustice in a land of oppressor and oppressed.
I'm not so sure I can tolerate how hauntingly silent many of us will become after this week is over, though.
Jonathan Moore is a freshman who is majoring in political science and American studies. He may be reached at Jonathan.Moore581594@tufts.edu.
