13:00 BST, 25 October 2023

Palestinian and Israeli lives must be valued equally in global response to crisis, Elders warn

[original article]

Statement: The Elders condemn the horrendous terror attacks launched by Hamas on 7 October 2023, the killing of innocent civilians, the holding of hostages and the continued indiscriminate missile attacks on Israel. These are mass atrocities for which the perpetrators must be brought to justice, preferably in a court of law.

We also condemn the Israeli government’s unacceptable collective punishment of the population of Gaza through siege, the scale of the military assault and its death toll, and the forcible transfer of civilians within the territory, as well as the continuing land and home incursions and demolitions in the West Bank and settler violence against Palestinian communities. These are not legitimate acts of self-defence: they are clear violations of international humanitarian law, and some amount to atrocities for which there needs to be criminal accountability.

The Palestinian and Israeli peoples are intertwined by history, geography and legacies of sacrifice and suffering. The current crisis has sparked unimaginable pain and trauma on both sides which demands the world’s compassion and respect. Israeli and Palestinian lives are of equal worth.

History, morality and political experience compel us to send this clear message: one set of crimes must not be responded to with more crimes.

As President Biden has warned, Israel must not repeat the mistakes made by the United States after the Al Qaeda terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001, the worst of which was the invasion of Iraq. Trying to defeat terrorism only through military action is more often than not a terrible mistake that leads to more terrorism, extremism and violence. A ground incursion by Israeli troops into Gaza could cause massive civilian casualties on top of the thousands of lives already lost, and risks inflaming a wider regional escalation of the conflict.

The cycles of violence and impunity must be broken, and the international community must be clear that all those accused of atrocity crimes on both sides should be held criminally accountable.

Leaders have for too long abdicated their responsibilities towards this conflict. All parties share the blame for extinguishing hope. Thirty years after the Oslo accords, there is now an absence of any political horizon towards a two-state solution that can end Israel’s occupation of Palestinian territories and guarantee Israel’s security.

Leaders cannot continue to view this conflict primarily through the prism of geopolitical divisions rather than the values of the UN Charter. That the UN Security Council has so far been unable to agree on a resolution, and call for a ceasefire as thousands of lives are being lost, is a failure to fulfil its fundamental duty. As Elders, we call for an immediate ceasefire, the restoration of essential water, food, medical and fuel supplies into Gaza, and the release of all hostages held by Hamas.

The normalisation of relations between Israel and some Arab states cannot succeed unless Palestinian self-determination and statehood are central. In this regard, reviving the Arab Peace Initiative of 2002, and implementing the relevant UN Security Council Resolutions, offers a viable path towards regional stability and reconciliation.

Today’s dark hour must be a catalyst for change.

As Elders, we stand with those who embrace political dialogue and justice through law, and hold firm to the values of human rights and peaceful co-existence.

About The Elders
The Elders are independent global leaders working for peace, justice, human rights and a sustainable planet. The group was founded by Nelson Mandela in 2007 and is composed of Ban Ki-moon, Gro Harlem Brundtland, Helen Clark, Elbegdorj Tsakhia, Zeid Ra’ad Al Hussein, Hina Jilani, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Ricardo Lagos, Graça Machel, Juan Manuel Santos, Mary Robinson, and Ernesto Zedillo with Elders Emeritus Lakhdar Brahimi, Fernando Henrique Cardoso and Jimmy Carter.

Palestine,

I take this moment to say thank you. Thank you for welcoming me into your places of work, worship, and education. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your life for this brief period of time.

I recognize that while four months was for me a full journey, it was but a few short moments in your life. To have volunteers and co-workers come and go so frequently, to have had engaged and let go so many times must be challenging.

I knew it would be impossible to come to know you fully. As one who prefers depth of connection over light relationships, I engaged you to the best of my ability. In these final three weeks I was given opportunity to recognize how many more friendships could unfold. I hope to return soon, to pick up where we left off.

In my work with you, I took on a bit more than I was able to handle, wanting to engage in and learn about your complex home. My time behind the computer was greater than that in drinking tea, but I will do my best to share your stories as I continue to roam.

I hope to return soon, Ishallah.

kai

In early November, I visited a climbing gym in West Jerusalem for the second time. Again, it was a bit of an endeavour to find my way there, even with my friend Lukas who is more well versed in the mass transit system in that area.

In late September I had stood waiting at a bus station on Kind David Street for over an hour, asking several people which bus arrived to the Jerusalem Mall or Teddy Stadium. I found the recommendations were mostly countered by the next person, “No, no. That won’t work. The buses have all changed after the light rail. Now you must take …” and so I waited for that bus too, but ultimately, it would never come. In the end, it was the #17 (which had come and gone a dozen times) which wound its way through neighbourhoods and down narrow residential streets to finally arrive near the climbing gym, some estimated fifteen kilometers from the Old City. This time, the #17 changed routes and it was the #18 we needed instead.

As Lukas later discovered, much simpler and faster to just ride a bicycle.

Who cut the rope?
Following two and a half hours bouldering, it felt good to have my fingers ache and shoulders strain at the weight my body imposed beneath the roof or on an extended overhang. Ultimately, I did well, and am pleased by my ability to come back after such an extended break. However, I was quickly reminded that after six weeks with only limited upper body workout (yoga, pull-ups on the door jam in my apartment), my days of climbing strong are behind me with hope for a renewed sense of physique in the not too distant future.

As we prepared to leave the gym, I engaged the woman at the counter in a conversation about outdoor climbing. The most local, recommended crag was a good one hour from Jerusalem by car. I inquired as to climbing in the valley between the southeast corner of the Old City and the Cinematheque.

“Where?” she responded.

I added “The green space, with trails for walking … just below the Cinemateque.”

“Ah. Yes. I know this place. I have climbed there.”

“Oh? Good. There is some bouldering, I think.”

“No, it’s not good for this. The rock is too slippery. So many people have climbed there and it is now too …

The world defined in historic times was the distance one could walk in one, two, or a half dozen days. Those who wandered in the desert for weeks, months, even for forty years moved the distance now traveled by car in but one day, at most.

Today, one would hope that given the ease of transportation and the simplicity of intercontinental communication, these barriers to personal experience and knowledge would dissolve with time. Yet, more than one hundred years after the invention of the telephone, car, and air plane, we remain relatively ignorant beyond a distance not greater than that which defined the Biblical world.

Yes, we are aware within minutes, at most an hour of a hurricane which strikes a distant coast line or an explosion on a public transit system. We can repeat facts and figures and sound bytes from the news cast, but we remain disconnected from those who are affected.

No matter how much data we do digest, no matter how many news articles we read, nothing will ever replace face-to-face conversation, the experience of being in the cities and shops and places of worship, in the schools and homes of those we desire to know.

This is the only way we can come to understand another culture. This is the only way we can truly replace our innate desire to categorize and learn to refer to them as one of us.

Xenophobia builds boundaries. Empathy knocks them down.

Even if we desire to be in touch with every tragedy on the planet, we cannot, not even with all that happens in our own neighborhood, let alone the unfolding of events overseas.

As some point, whether case by case or total volume, we disconnect and fall back to categories as reference points for who receives our attention and who does not, for whom we act to support and protect, and for whom we ignore or even cast aside.

We all know, at some level, that all humans everywhere are very similar. We all have good and bad ones too. We laugh, we cry, we argue and we make up. We wake groggy and are eager to fall to sleep. There are Muslims who fail to pray five times a year let alone five times a day and Christians who never go to church. There are Buddhists who kill, religious leaders who do not practice what they preach and vegetarians who occasionally eat meat. There are professional athletes who use performance enhancing drugs and doctors who smoke. There are those who suffer from lactose intolerance who indulge in ice cream knowing the outcome will quite painful.

In every culture, in every country, on every continent there are people just like you and there are people just like me.

How do we embrace our shared like-ness given that we cannot possibly know each one at an intimate level?

We must desire to let go of our stereotypes and our fear. We must embrace the belief that everyone deserves that which we share, or even better. We must recognize that nations are not evil, rather it is individuals who commit acts which cause pain. To do so is very, very challenging for it requires tremendous self-awareness amidst a driving desire to lump groups of people into simple categories. To do so is dangerous, for it opens us to empathetic pain.

If you ask to what I am referring, consider how anyone in the U.S. can justify the death of no less than 150,000 human beings (by some counts more than 1,000,000 in total), mostly civilian, for the U.S. lead ten years war in Afghanistan and Iraq in retaliation for the death of 3,000? The only way, the only way anyone cannot cry, sob, even vomit at the very thought of this bloodshed is to disable that part of our selves which would otherwise say “this person is just like me” and I cannot justify their death.

Each of us can choose to not propagate misinformation which helps ease our own pain while supporting unfounded statements which ease the burden of a nation. The next time you find yourself categorizing someone, ask why? Then look for that place which allows you to find the familiar instead. It is the greatest give you can give someone you may never meet.

I just awoke from a much needed mid-morning to mid-afternoon sleep. Not a nap, for I seldom enjoy those, but a true sleep. Perhaps the best since I have arrived to East Jerusalem. Last night I was editing ’till 2AM and then walked to the office in the Old City to upload a film. At 4AM I caught a taxi with two volunteers for EAPPI in order to shadow them at the Kalandia checkpoint at the boundary of the West Bank.

Back to my apartment at 8:30, ate breakfast, and despite my best efforts, found sleep pulling at me.

What called me from my slumber was the wonderful wind driven rain pounding on my windows. I realized then that for me, changes in the seasons, both in temperature and length of day are an important part of my feeling settled in this world. I look back to March of 2008 and a blog entry Counting raindrops in Tokyo. I was so completely content to just sit in my hotel room, the window open to the street far below, and allow the mist to fill the room.

Living here has for me been a challenge, a true test of my ability to find internal peace amidst a nearly continuous onslaught of horns, sirens, music, fireworks (from Palestinian weddings) and road noise. It has been a study in my minimal need for exercise and at the same time, a study in sound and how it affects me. My every-other-weekend ventures to the Dead Sea, highlands of the North past the Sea of Galilee, and hiking in the West Bank with my friend Lukas have been absolutely necessary to maintain any semblance of balance.

I am envious of people who are grounded and content in the city. But I would never want to feel so comfortable here that weekend adventures on the trails were no longer needed.