Tag Archives: Imagined peace

Putting Peace Back in the Picture

Banksy graffit art, Separation Wall

There’s very little talk in Israel about peace nowadays. Since the failed negotiations between the Israeli and Palestinian leadership in 2000, the predominant belief in Jewish Israeli public opinion is that “there’s no partner for peace”. Yes, Israeli Prime Minister declares every now and again that he’s ready to talk to the Palestinian President Abu Mazen any time, but there’s been no movement at all since October 2010 when the talks promoted by the Obama administration ran aground on the issue of settlements: the Israeli government refused to freeze them, and the Palestinian Administration refused to negotiate while their land was being taken from them. Even if there were negotiations, talk about peace isn’t the same as peace.

The “Arab Spring’s” potential and actual dangers to Israel are far more often reported in the media and mentioned in conversation (attacks launched by Islamists from the Egyptian Sinai peninsula; concerns about the future of the Israeli-Egyptian peace treaty of 1979; anxiety about what sort of regime will take over in Syria). As seen in Netanyahu’s presentation of a cartoon bomb in his UN speech on September 27, in the Israeli mediasphere it’s simply assumed that Iran will use a nuclear bomb if it enriches enough uranium, posing an existential threat to Israel. And certainly for Israelis who live close to Gaza, the presence of war rather than peace seems to be confirmed regularly when rockets and mortars fall on them, often as part of a routine exchange of violence following Israeli “targeted killings” of Palestinians there.

Those Israelis who prefer not to watch or listen to any news and just get on with their lives can imagine that the relative quiet in relations between Israelis and Palestinians is a kind of peace, especially because the mainstream news long ago forewent reporting the daily assaults by West Bank settlers and on-going displacement of Palestinians by the military government. If on this side of the Separation Wall’s it’s peaceful, what does it matter what happens on the other side?

In an effort to get people talking about peace again, women activists in a group called Israeli Palestinian Bereaved Families for Peace, often known as The Parents Circle – Family Forum, has launched a campaign to Put Peace Back in the Picture. Launched on a dedicated Facebook page titled A Crack in the Wall, the campaign invites the public “to dream, talk and think anew about peace.” Everyone is asked to post a picture of themselves on the page while holding a sign that says:  “I also want to bring peace back into the picture,” mostly in in Hebrew or Arabic, but also English and other languages too. The web page for the campaign says:

 We can blame the other side, the circumstances or ourselves, but the fact is that slowly but surely, peace as an option has vanished from our midst and we’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s not possible, certainly not in the foreseeable future.

…And when there is no vision of peace, nothing will happen to lead us there. Other visions and other aims will continue to lead us to more and more years of conflict and alienation between us and our Arab neighbors.

We stand here together – Israeli and Palestinian women of the Forum of Bereaved Families for Reconciliation and Peace. We want to bring peace back into the conversation of Israeli and Palestinian society; and to then call on our leaders to act, in any way possible, to bring about peace in our region and end the cycle of hatred and bloodshed.

In addition to the Facebook campaign which currently shows over 160 photos, the women activists also held a three hour event on Internatio

Jon Simons at Parent Circle – Family Forum event

nal peace Day, Friday 21 September, placing a few stalls by an entrance to Tel Aviv’s busy Carmel Market at which passers-by were invited to be photographed with a sign. Some were happy to do so, others were reluctant, and inevitably a few people wanted to argue. Taking turns to use the megaphone, the women activists dressed in white repeated the message of the

Parent Circle – Families Forum event, Bring Peace Back Into the Picture

Children painting peace at Parents Circle- Familes Forum event

event, while a young woman was on hand to photograph the willing. At the stall there were also blank placards on which children drew their images of peace (why do we imagine that only children can imagine peace?) and there were stickers handed out too bearing the group’s slogan “It won’t be over until we talk” (in Hebrew this rhymes as: ze lo y’gamer ad sh’ndaber). The highlight of the event for the women was the arrival of their Palestinian friends, allowed on this occasion to travel from the West Bank with military permits. Their presence didn’t prevent those who wanted to pick a verbal fight from insisting loudly, in line with Israeli “common sense of the age,” that “we want peace, but they don’t. They’d kill us if they could.” This obvious projection of intentions is sustained by an image of the enemy Other that is stronger than any reality.

The campaign is shaped by two metaphors that are slightly different, one visual, one spatil, yet that reinforce each other. The women have understood that if there is to be peace, we have to be able to see it, to envision it, to imagine it. But given current circumstances, it’s hard to imagine the kind of peace that would put an end to the killings that have bereaved these families (in contrast to the imagined “peace” that is the relative quiet on the Israeli side of the Separation Wall). And so there also has to be a new space opened up to see and imagine peace; there has to be a crack in the wall. This remarkable group, Parents Circle – Family Forum, both embodies such a peace and opens a crack in the wall, because instead of allowing bereavement to feed the cycle of violence and revenge, they have chosen reconciliation and dialogue. Their hope is that by example more people on both sides will see each other as partners for making peace rather than as antagonists for waging war. The campaign is a start, or rather another of many small efforts by Israeli and Palestinian peace groups to at least keep a crack in the wall open so that peace can be imagined and made real.


Exodus to Alberta


Tea break during olive picking in Jayyous

This is a guest blog written by Ariel Katz, a Jewish American currently living in England.  She has a degree from Cornell University in Middle Eastern Studies, and has worked in Israel for Interns for Peace. She has a passion for Middle East peace, and writes fiction and non-fiction on the topic for outlets such as CGNews.  


This is a story of Exodus and diaspora.  Rema was looking for a doctoral programme in Canada, because Canada has a loose immigration policy.  She didn’t want England, she said.  Or America. Too difficult to get in.   She would have to learn English she realised.  She had a two year plan.  In two years, when her now 16 year old son turned adult, she would be free of her mothering duties. Free to start a new life.  Israel was a difficult place to live for anyone.  Even more so for a Palestinian Muslim woman.  Years ago she would have been called and have called herself an Arab. Times have changed. Identities have morphed.  “Arab” no longer means much.  It never had really.  Not more than a person whose mother tongue was Arabic.  “Palestinian” has a connection to a people who share a story.

Enat told the guy picking olives with her in the West Bank village that she was moving to Canada.  “It’s game over here now,” she told him.  People who want peace in Israel have nowhere to move but out and away.  It’s now illegal to talk about boycotting products from the West Bank settlements.  It’s akin to being a traitor.  She had always advocated peace with the Arab population in Israel.  She had always been active.  Recently she had given up, burnt out, and she was here picking olives.  Helping a Palestinian family harvest from their olive trees.  Permits were needed for the West Bank family members to get to their own groves.  Many olives fell to the ground and rotted due to lack of permits.

A bus load of Israeli volunteers form the Tel Aviv area came to help, to spend the day with the trees, picking.  There were no instructions, no “Pick this size not that size”. Just “Pick them all, we are not coming back.”  And pick she did.  She spent her Saturday, her Sabbath, picking olives for a family she had never met.  Mr and Mrs Ali, that was all she knew.  As she explained to a fellow Jewish peace activist that she had given up, she was raising her arms towards olive branches laden with ripe olives, reaching for them, picking them, lightening the burden on those gnarled branches which seemed wrinkled like old people.  She filled sacks with olives of all sizes.  It felt good to be outside, to be with nature, to be doing something useful, talking, working with like-minded people.  It was invigorating.  She had given up she said.  There was no way forward. She would leave soon.  Yet she was here.

And so it went.  Israeli citizens became disillusioned with the possibility of peace.  The government had taken more and more actions that incited anger and threatened the rights of the Palestinian population. What was the point of advocating peace when government actions were actively unravelling more good will than the peace groups could generate?  There comes a point when enough is enough.  Jews decided to leave because they were ashamed to live in a place that treated the Palestinian population with such contempt.  Palestinians were leaving because peace was elsewhere.  And where could they go once they had decided that staying wasn’t an option?  Somehow, they all decided on Alberta.

There was an exodus from Israel/Paelstine following the intolerable situation.  Some left because they wanted to, some left because they were too scared to stay.  And a large group of expats, both Jewish and Palestinian, ended up in Alberta.  They set up falafel stands with freshly made hummus.  They bumped into each other in shops selling olive oil from their homeland. They spoke together in Hebrew with Arabic slang thrown in – and in Arabic peppered with Hebrew.  You could hear the children of Abraham calling each other, “Ya uchi (O my brother).”   There were no borders in Alberta.  There were no segregated neighbourhoods.  The Jewish Israelis and Palestinians filled the gaps left by their missing family members by opening their homes to each other.  The smell of cumin was acceptable.  The situation was similar to that in other cities around the world, where the Hebrew and Arabic speakers feel closer to each other than to the other nationalities in the area.  They share roots.  They share stories and experiences.  They share nostalgia for the homeland that until now, they hadn’t found a way to share.