"The tragedy in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is that the people in it live so physically close to one another, yet are so separated. Both sides believe the scary stereotypes and have little actual interaction. Walls are built of concrete to separate us, leading to even higher walls of fear and ignorance... I grew up in Bethany, a town 3 miles east of Jerusalem. There was little for children to do other than play soccer in the streets. I was seven years old when I first saw on television young men throwing stones at Israeli soldiers. I didn’t know the motivation or purpose for such acts, but they were exciting.
My first similar adventure was unsuccessful, as I stoned my Arab neighbors’ cars instead of Israeli cars. I quickly learned that stoning your neighbor’s car wasn’t a good idea–the spanking I received from my father made that clear. The Israelis didn’t know who I was or where I lived, so I thought throwing stones at them was safe. A few weeks later some friends and I broke the window of an Israeli bus driving on a nearby road. An angry man came out of that bus shooting at us.
I grew up experiencing clashes with the Israeli army and learning what to do to survive. The book bag that I took to school contained not only books and pencils, but also onions. Sniffing an onion helps to keep you conscious when you’re hit with tear gas. My life changed when my brother Tayseer, at age 18, was arrested at our home and then beaten when he refused to confess to the charge that he threw stones at soldiers. Tayseer was in prison for almost a year and died soon after his release, which our family doctor said was a result of the beating.
I was ten years old at the time, and watching my brother die left me bitter and full of rage. I felt it was my duty to avenge Taysee’s death. Years of activism guided me in my mission. Writing and throwing stones became the norm of my life, and I convinced others to do the same to protest the Israelis’ occupation of the Palestinian territories and their treatment of Palestinians. But the truth is that I never felt satisfied by my actions. Hatred and anger cannot heal a broken heart. And yet I continued on that path until I finished high school, when I decided to take Hebrew language courses to prepare for college and work in Jerusalem.
Those classes introduced me to Jews and Israelis who weren’t in uniform. For 18 years, all my interactions with Israelis had been with soldiers and settlers. Although there was a Jewish high school 200 meters from my own, I never met any of those students. At first I was angry about studying Hebrew alongside Jewish students and refused to utter a word in class. After I’d had a few encounters with Jewish students and learned new Hebrew words, I had an internal struggle in my heart and mind. There was the old me who was angry and bitter, alongside the new me who was curious to learn about the “enemy.”
With every conversation and with every interaction, my hatred faded further. It wasn’t the deep conversations, but the small ones that took place while practicing Hebrew that revealed the humanity in me and my Jewish classmates and conquered the divisions between us. Eventually, I found a new mission for my life: bridging the gap between enemies. I started working with Israeli peace builders like Rami Elhanan, whose daughter was killed in a suicide bombing.
The Middle East peace process is at a stalemate, and people are losing hope in the dream of bringing an end to this conflict. Politicians are issuing one fiery statement after another explaining why we will not have peace. The international community is paralyzed. Many claim that extremists are on the rise and violence is unavoidable. But the future of the Israeli-Palestinian peace does not depend only on politicians signing an agreement. It also depends on citizens, who can make or break any such pact. The people should lead the politicians.
In my work as a conflict resolution specialist, I have found that the majority of Israelis and Palestinians are indifferent and ineffective. Indifference is the greatest enemy to peace and justice. The antidote to that apathy is interaction. What Israelis and Palestinians need more than anything right now is to find ways of being with each other. We need to put cracks in the walls that separate people. We need to take classes together.
I don’t know what the final agreement between Israelis and Palestinians will look like–one state, two states, or a confederation. I do know that no agreement will survive if the people from both sides don’t start a true reconciliation project. Our division should never be between Israelis and Palestinians but rather between those who work tirelessly for peace and those who do not."
~ Aziz Abu Sarah is a National Geographic Emerging Explorer and Co-Executive Director of the Center for World Religions, Diplomacy, and Conflict Resolution at George Mason University.
"As a soldier in the Israeli Defense Forces, Kobi Skolnick once fired shots at Aziz Abu Sarah's aunt's house in the West Bank town of Hebron. Ten years later, Skolnick, a former Israeli settler, who grew up in an ultra-orthodox household, and Abu Sarah, once a Palestinian militant, work together explaining both sides of the Middle East conflict to tourists. They discovered the uncomfortable coincidence during a tour in Hebron for Mejdi, a "dual-narrative" tour company co-owned by Abu Sarah, where every tour is jointly led by Jewish and Palestinian guides.
Abu Sarah, 30, said: "He (Skolnick) was talking about which houses he shot at, and one of the houses was my aunt's." Skolnick said of the revelation: "I had shot at her house, and there had been shots fired from the house, but we were so glad we could share that with no judgment. "We have profound moments like that all the time on our tours because I used to fight Palestinians and some of them used to fight Israelis. Now we come together and try to find a solution."
Mejdi guides explain landmarks and historic sites from their personal experiences and those of their communities. One of the tour groups from an American synagogue even spent several days on home-stays in a Palestinian refugee camp. "They formed incredibly close relationships," said Abu Sarah. "When they left there was hugging, kissing and crying. It was one of the most emotional things I've ever seen."
Abu Sarah's own journey from extremist to peace activist inspired his work. He was 10 years old when his brother Tayseer died after being released from an Israeli prison. Tayseer had been arrested for throwing stones during the first Intifada and Abu Sarah says he was tortured in prison. The experience turned Abu Sarah into an "angry and bitter" teenager and he became a youth leader of Fatah -- a cornerstone Palestinian political party along with Hamas -- at an early age.
He said: "I grew up as an anti-peace activist. I had never met an Israeli or a Jew other than soldiers or settlers. I was as extreme as you can get." I used to fight Palestinians and some of them used to fight Israelis. The turning point came at the age of 18 when Abu Sarah realized he would need to learn Hebrew to further his career. "I had always refused because it was the language of the enemy," he said. After enrolling on a Hebrew course for newcomers to Jerusalem, Abu Sarah came face-to-face with Jewish people for the first time in his life and realized they could be friends.
"Slowly I realized that there's an emotional wall of fear that eventually becomes hatred, and from that moment my work was to bang our heads against that wall to bring it down," he said. Skolnick, 30, grew up in an ultra-orthodox Hasidic Jewish community and moved to a settlement near Nablus when he was 14. During his national service in the Israel Defense Forces, Skolnick was sent to protect settlers from Palestinian militants.
He said: "This was 2001 and there was serious violence. I protected Israelis from gunshots and suicide bombers. At the time, I just felt I was protecting people. It was special to feel you are part of history and defending your own people. I wanted to be able to hear both sides of the story, but I couldn't do that in the IDF. "Now I have different feelings. I don't feel regret, but I wish I had known more about the politics and the wider issues."
Abu Sarah said he started Mejdi tours, a social enterprise, 18 months ago to combat the propaganda spread by both sides during traditional tours. So far it has taken around 20 tour groups, mostly students, Synagogues, churches and interfaith groups from the United States, Europe and Australia. He said: "I realized that friends of mine who had come on Israeli tours hardly wanted to talk to me afterwards because they had heard the Israeli narrative, and others who heard the Palestinian side left almost anti-Semitic.
"We don't want to spread this hate. We have three million tourists come to this country every year. Imagine if we could transform tourism to spread peace instead of hate?" Shira Nesher, 23, a student at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and one of Mejdi's social guides, used to be a tour guide in the Israel Defense Forces. She said: "I was the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors on both sides, so I was reminded every day that the Israeli state was the stability the Jewish people needed after the Holocaust. The Jewish story was all I knew.
"In the IDF I gave talks to soldiers and main emphasis was on creating a will to make sacrifice for the state. "This was an eye-opener because I wanted to be able to hear both sides of the story, but I couldn't do that in the IDF." Palestinian Mazen Faraj, 36, has lived all his life in Dheisheh Palestinian Refugee Camp near Bethlehem in West Bank, leads tours around the camp for Mejdi.
He was arrested for the first time at the age of 15 during the first Intifada and many times over the following years for being involved in demonstrations against Israeli soldiers. He spent three and a half years in jail in total. In 2002, Faraj's father was shot dead by an Israeli soldier while traveling from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, he said."We just received a call from the hospital in Bethlehem to say they had his body," Faraj said. "We asked the soldiers but weren't allowed to go to the hospital because we were under curfew, so we had to wait until the morning. "You can't imagine what that was like."
Faraj said he gradually became involved in peace work a few years later. "After this tragedy I had to find somewhere to put all the anger and suffering in my head, otherwise there's just more violence and revenge," he said. "It was a long process. I didn't just wake up in the morning and decide to talk to Israelis. "It doesn't mean I forget or forgive, but it does mean we can create a message of getting to know each other and wanting to change the situation." ~ CNN
Photos ~ Kobi Skolnick (L), brought up as an ultra-orthodox Jew, and Palestinian Aziz Abu Sarah now run tours together. Ten years ago Skolnik, then an Israeli soldier, fired shots at Abu Sarah's aunt's house in Hebron.
~ Tayseer and Aziz Abu Sarah outside their childhood home in Bethany
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