The lesson that the history of MADD teaches is that it may take years to achieve the legislative goals that Moms Demand Action wants. It may take years to change the culture. But the good news is that a change for the better can and will come.
The U.S. Drone Warfare Program is flouting the rule of law, killing thousands, terrorizing whole communities, and making enemies. There has to be a different way, a way that can lead to mutual concern and lasting security for people in the United States and others. There has to be a way that can lead to peace. The United States is setting an example that other countries will surely follow. Over 75 countries now have drones.
As controversy continues over the undeclared Swiss bank accounts of leading French and German public figures, it is nice for us to be able to show that many Swiss share a concern for ethical standards and a longing for greater transparency and accountability. So the search for a better way is on. And perhaps part of the answer both for capitalism and democracy lies in the recognition of the fact that both are eternally perfectible systems.
To ‘put yourself in their shoes and see the world through their eyes’ is a huge ask. For me it has meant overcoming my own racism and prejudice to allow myself to hear Palestinian voices and accept the validity of their story. It’s become an exercise in un-installing the cultural software in my head.
In that case, however, the fact that nobody gave “one good goddamn” about the Jews is offered as a justification for the creation of Israel. After all, who but themselves will defend a people to which the world is indifferent? The unique aspect of Dershowitz’s statement is not so much his assertion that nobody cares about Palestinians but his view that indifference to the suffering of millions of people is a justification for continued indifference.
Fortunately, Dershowitz is wrong. Millions of people do care about the Palestinian people, infinitely more today than ever before. Dershowitz knows that, which is why he devotes so much energy to fighting those who champion the Palestinian cause.
While it remains to be seen whether these protests will spark the types of historic marches Israel witnessed in 2011, it’s clear that those in the streets have been noticed. Lapid released a Facebook post just before the protest, assuring Israelis that the budget can be revised. However, it may take more than a Facebook post to quell the beginning of what some hope will be a new round of social protests in Israel.
These were the people, Israeli and Palestinian both, who gave us hope. It would seem that active engagement leaves little time for despair. In contrast, we seem stuck in our comfortable lives, and reluctant to step out of our comfort zone. Maybe it’s because our own country seems vast and open still, and we don’t know yet that we belong to the same human family as everyone else. Or is it that our mind-boggling weapons of mass destruction bolster our delusional sense of exceptionalism? But Israel and Palestine are small and on top of each other, and the madness of it all can be seen at a glance: The aerial view of the territory, all cut up into twisted enclaves, looks like it has been designed by the remote judges of Kafka’s The Trial.
Society has a way of dividing us with religion, politics, history or race and I too had fallen victim to this lie. Until then I had only understood the conflict in terms of Israeli government aggression and Palestinian suffering. I had failed to see Israel in terms of the people as peace-loving human beings, like many of the Palestinians I had met over the years. But most importantly I had forgotten our common humanity, our universal struggle for peace.
Part of what fascinates me about the civil rights struggles of the 1960s is that, through these upheavals, America changed. Compare that to today’s inertness: we can barely budge on gun control and the minimum wage (for examples), despite overwhelming support among Americans for change on those fronts. Yes, there are real questions about how much progress towards racial justice we’ve made. What’s clear is that a little over a year after the May 1963 “children’s crusade” in Birmingham, Alabama, we had the Civil Rights Act of 1964. And five months after the Selma to Montgomery march came the Voting Rights Act of ’65.
In practical terms, the average Tikkun reader may not be ready to become a Gandhi or a King or to move to Bangladesh and become a labor activist. I know I’m not. Nonetheless, I believe that we have a religious obligation do something to resist the antalgic lean and move toward tikkun olam. It’s ultimately not about achieving perfection today or tomorrow or even in this lifetime, but about the direction we are moving. It’s about coming to know ourselves, not as individuals maximizing self-interest, but as part of the body of the world. This is the essence of the Sh’ma – one God, one world: a oneness undergirds reality and all separation is ultimately illusion.