Last winter while I was living in Tel Aviv, I e-mailed a professor who had served as a mentor to me. An anthropologist and an expert on race relations, he is someone I admire as a dedicated advocate for human rights. He responded warmly to my e-mail, then he added something to the effect of “Daniela, what I don’t understand is how you fit into the situation over there.” His words still ring in my ears. It seemed to me that he was asking how a liberal-minded person like me could support an oppressive country like Israel.
This wasn’t the first time that I felt people I respected were judging me negatively based on my relationship with Israel. In college I had often been uncomfortable voicing my support of Israel in the presence of my more left-leaning classmates, people who, like me, are committed to issues such as human rights and social justice. I found that for many of my peers–both Jewish and non-Jewish students–the Middle East conflict was seen in black and white: Israelis are the powerful aggressors and the Palestinians are the powerless victims.
While I am not one to fly an Israeli flag in my room, Israel is an important part of my identity. And if a Zionist is defined as someone who supports modern Israel as a Jewish homeland, then I am a Zionist.
When confronted directly with opinions on the conflict that I thought were unfair, I would generally stand up for Israel. But when I could avoid discussing Israel, especially with friends, I often did so. It was just easier that way. I don’t think I ever told a college classmate that I considered myself a Zionist. I did not want to be defined by a label that carries negative connotations for so many of my peers.
In part, I avoided confrontation because I did not have good answers to the more provocative questions posed by my classmates. I knew I did not have all the facts on the situation. But more importantly, I did not always agree with Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians, and I sometimes found it difficult to defend a country whose actions I did not entirely support.
I did not choose to be a Zionist–I was born a Zionist. My parents, who both spent formative years in Israel, gave me the middle name Hope, signifying their hope for peace in Israel. Our home was always filled with discussions about Israel, and growing up I traveled to Israel every few years, but it was always my parents leading the way.
After graduating from college, I decided to travel on my own to Israel. My objective was to forge my own relationship with Israel. A week after the beginning of the current intifada, I left for Israel. For the next eight months I observed the conflict unfold from an Israeli perspective.
Shortly after arriving, I went out for coffee with a young Israeli who had recently completed his service in the air force and whose brother was serving with the army in the Gaza Strip. I asked him how Israeli soldiers could use live ammunition against stone-throwers. He explained that what I saw on CNN was only half the picture, that I didn’t see the images of Palestinians shooting at Israeli soldiers.
While I was in Israel, I spent a lot of time with a family friend who works at an Israeli non-profit working to create economic partnerships between Israelis and Palestinians. But when I was there her mind seemed to be on other things. I remember her fearful warnings to her son to make sure to avoid crowded places for fear of terrorism.
One of my closest friends in Israel was an environmental activist and a strong believer in the importance of creating a more just Israeli society for Arabs and Jews alike. But he was not optimistic about Israel’s future. He often shared with me his fear that Israel would be destroyed by its enemies.
Eight months in Israel brought me no closer to resolving my uncertainties about Israeli actions in the conflict, but I did leave with a better understanding of the complexities of the situation. The experience really reinforced for me that the situation is not black and white–that Palestinians share responsibility for the violence, that Israelis have a very real fear for their future, and that terrorism has a strong grip on their lives. I only wish some of my more liberal friends and acquaintances could have had the same experience.
