Michael Riordon

the view from where I live


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“An essential guidebook”

Our Way to Fight, reviewed by Daniel Kerr, Assistant Professor, Department of History, American University, Washington DC.  Published in Oral History Review, Winter-Spring 2012.

With his latest book, Michael Riordon sketches the life stories of dozens of Palestinian and Israeli peace activists, each struggling against mighty odds to sustain hope and construct the foundation for a just future.  Riordon’s portraits interweave descriptions of the current endeavors of these activists with concise life histories, an approach that offers a dynamic sense of what motivates “normal” people to do extraordinary things.

As we learn about the life experiences of these individuals, the real and oftentimes unexpected personal costs of occupation for both Israelis and Palestinians become apparent.  At the same time each activist creatively seeks to move beyond the literal and ideological walls that isolate, fragment, and divide themselves from their neighbors, families, and their own sense of what it means to be fully human.

Riordon documents a surprisingly wide range of peace work by Israelis and Palestinians, both within the occupied territories and Israel.  His narrators include Nasser Abufarha, who has a Ph.D. in anthropology and co-founded the Canaan Fair Trade olive oil company.   Canaan Fair Trade has significantly increased the base price farmers receive for their olives and other agricultural products.  In doing so, the company has revived the economic stability of farming in the region around Jenin—an area that had been known more as a hotbed of suicide bombers than as a center of production for some of the finest olive oil in the world.

Eitan Bronstein, founder of Zochrot (the Hebrew word for remembering), documents and commemorates the remnants of former Palestinian villages within Israel.  He argues that “silencing or hiding” memory “is one of the most powerful, brutal ways to oppress people” – an oppression that distorts the lives of both Palestinians and Israelis (173).

Ruth Hiller co-founded New Profile, an organization that supports young people who are considering or who are in jail for refusing to join the Israeli Defense Force.  The group challenges the very foundation of Israel’s military culture.

Mohammad Khatib, a leader of the Popular Committee Against the Wall and Settlements, has helped organize weekly non-violent demonstrations protesting the construction of the separation barrier through the Palestinian village Bil’in.  The protests eventually led to the issuance of an Israeli Supreme Court ruling that resulted in the moving of sections of the wall that encroached on the village’s land.  In addition to documenting these activities in the book, Riordon keeps readers apprised of the ongoing struggles of the activists and their organizations with his frequent and regular posts on his blog.

Each of the activists Riordon interviews face varying levels of suppression, including physical violence and criminalization.   The Israeli government is the source of much of this repression.  Our Way to Fight, however, reveals more complicated dynamics in these activists’ struggles.  As Israeli and Palestinian peace activists try to chart an alternative way forward, they find themselves in an uneasy relationship with their own “people”.   Jewish Israeli peace activists face condemnation from friends and family members, anonymous death threats, as well as pervasive efforts by other Israelis to delegitimize, pathologize, and marginalize their beliefs and actions.  Palestinian peace activists receive little support from the Palestinian Authority and find themselves oftentimes at odds with more traditional and conservative elements within their own communities.

In each of the portraits, each activist addresses how she or he persists in the face of despair.  While they face tremendous risks, the benefits of their activities seem unclear as hopes for real peace in the region seem more distant than ever before.  Nonetheless, Meir Margalit, who struggles to prevent the demolition of Palestinians’ homes, argues that peace activists “do not have the luxury to feel despair” (41).  Emily Schaefer, an Israeli lawyer who has supported the Palestinian campaign in Bil’in, reflects, “when we feel defeated, we are still preserving the humanity and the connection between two peoples for the future.  If this is all we accomplish, still it’s something.” (230).

This book is not an academic one; it is directed towards a popular audience.  Riordon omits any footnotes or references beyond those mentioned in the text.  He also does not portray his book as an “oral history.”  Nonetheless, there is a lot here that will be of interest to oral historians.  While Riordon rightfully maintains the narrative focus on his interviewees’ compelling stories, he always sketches a rich background context describing the interview process itself.  Riordon offers up enough about his own motivations and sympathies to provide insight into the interview dynamic.  Furthermore, Riordon repeatedly questions his own questions.  These moments of self-reflection give form to the context of power shaping the dialogue.

Where Riordon is at his best is in his acute observation of the small things that usually go unnoticed.  Throughout the book, he keenly observes and interprets the non-verbal forms of communication that give meaning to what is being said – the awkward moment of silence, the twinkle in the eye, the sarcastic intonation, or the subtle grin.

Our Way to Fight exemplifies the advocacy tradition of witness and testimony at its best.  Riordon seeks to build bridges between these activists and a North American audience that has little access to the world he documents.  In doing so, Riordon effectively counters the dominant narrative about the Middle East that fixates on violence, portrays Palestinians as terrorists, and defines Israelis as embattled victims.   He highlights the power of the question and demonstrates the subversive capacity of stories from below.  By introducing the reader to real people and organizations, he offers an essential guidebook for other North Americans interested in building solidarity with those working for a just peace.


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Israel’s choice: Everyday brutality or nonviolent resistance

Two recent items from Israel stand in stark contrast to each other, as alternate signposts to the future.  Already the norm, the first is far more likely, but the second is not impossible, not yet.

Noam Gur, with her refusal statement.  Photo: Activestills

First, a biting commentary on the Israeli military by Uri Avnery, titled The Iron Man: “Stupid and Mean and Brutal.”  It’s followed by a plea from New Profile to support Noam Gur, currently imprisoned for refusing to serve in the machine that Avnery describes so graphically:

“In blood and sweat / A race will arise to us / Proud and generous and brutal…”

Thus wrote Vladimir (Ze’ev) Jabotinsky, the founder of extreme right-wing Zionism, who was also a writer and a poet.  Present-day Likud leaders see him as their forefather, much as Stalin saw Karl Marx.

The world “brutal” stands out, because it seems implausible that Jabotinsky really meant it.  His Hebrew was not very good, and he probably meant something like “hard” or “tough”.

If Jabotinsky saw today’s Likud, he would shudder.  His was a 19th century mixture of extreme nationalism, liberalism and humanism.

Paradoxically, brutality is the only one of the three traits that is prominent in our life today, especially in the occupied Palestinian territories.  There is nothing there to be proud of, and generosity is something associated with the despised leftists.

THE ROUTINE, everyday brutality that governs the occupied territories was caught on video this week.  A searing flash in the darkness.

It happened on Route 90, a highway that connects Jericho with Beth She’an along the Jordan River.  It is the main road of the Jordan valley, which our government aims to annex to Israel one way or another.  [Continue reading Uri Avnery here…]

At the same, this encouraging message arrived from New Profile, an Israeli feminist organization that tries to counter the ‘everyday brutality’ which, as Uri Avery argues, is inevitable under any colonial regime:

Conscientious objector Noam Gur refuses to join the Israeli Army.

Noam Gur, 18 years old, from Kiryat Motzkin near Haifa, arrived on Monday morning, 16 April, at the army Induction Base in Tel Hashomer.  There she declared her refusal to serve in the Israeli Army.

In her refusal declaration Noam wrote:

“For years I have been told that control over the Palestinian people is supposed to protect me, but information about the suffering caused due to the terrorizing of the Palestinian population was omitted from that story.  The road to dismantling this apartheid and achieving true and just peace is long, and hard, but as I see it, actions taken by the Israeli army only push it further away.  Over this past decade, the Palestinian people have been increasingly choosing the path of nonviolent resistance, and I choose to join this path and to turn to a popular, nonviolent struggle in Palestine, rather than to serve in the Israeli army and continue the violence.”  [Military refuser, activist and journalist Haggai Matar interviews Noam Gur here.]

Noam was immediately sentenced to 10 days in military prison for her refusal.  Normal practise is to renew such sentences until the person agrees to join the army, or is released for a variety of reasons.

Ruth Hiller of New Profile adds:  “Please note that Noam is being held in solitary confinement.  She really needs your support now.  Since the prison authorities often block mail from reaching imprisoned objectors, you can send support letters to: messages2prison@newprofile.org, or to shministim@gmail.com.  We will make sure she gets them.”

Recommended Action

1)  Please circulate this message and information as widely as possible, through e-mail, websites, social networks, conventional media, and word of mouth.

2)  For those who live outside Israel, it would be very effective to send protests to your local Israeli embassy or consulate.  You can find their addresses here.

Here is a generic sample letter, which you can use in sending appeals to authorities on the prisoners’ behalf.  Please feel free to modify it, or write your own:

Dear Sir/Madam,

It has come to my attention that Noam Gur (military ID 6084062), a conscientious objector to military service, has been imprisoned for the second time for his refusal to become part of the Israeli army, and is held in Military Prison no. 6 near Atlit.

The imprisonment of conscientious objectors such as Gur is a violation of international law, of basic human rights and of plain morals.

I therefore call for the immediate and unconditional release from prison of Noam Gur, without threat of further imprisonment in the future, and urge you and the system you are heading to respect the dignity and person of conscientious objectors, indeed of all persons, in the future.

3)  Writing op-ed pieces and letters to editors in Israel and other countries could also be quite useful in indirectly but powerfully pressuring the military authorities to let go of the objectors and in bringing their plight and their cause to public attention.

[It does help.  As Haggai Matar explained to me in Our Way to Fight, international attention helped win his release after two years in prison for refusing military service.  Ruth Hiller also notes: “I am pleased to let you know that Iliya Fox was successful in his appeal, and he has been released from doing military service on the grounds of pacifism.”

Nonviolent resistance.  It’s worth the fight.]

Contact details for the main media outlets in Israel:

 Ma’ariv: 
2 Karlibach Street
Tel-Aviv 67132
Israel
Fax: +972-3-561-06-14
e-mail: editor@maariv.co.il <mailto:editor@maariv.co.il>

  Yedioth Aharonoth: 
2 Moses Street
Tel-Aviv
Israel
Fax: +972-3-608-25-46

 Ha’aretz (Hebrew): 
21 Schocken Street
Tel-Aviv, 61001
Israel
Fax: +972-3-681-00-12

  Ha’aretz (English edition): 
21 Schocken Street
Tel-Aviv, 61001
Israel
Fax: +972-3-512-11-56
e-mail: letters@haaretz.co.il <mailto:letters@haaretz.co.il>

    Israel Hayom: 
2 Hashlosha Street
The B1 Building
Tel-Aviv
Israel
e-mail: hayom@israelhayom.co.il <mailto:hayom@israelhayom.co.il>

Jerusalem Post: 
P.O. Box 81
Jerusalem 91000
Israel
Fax: +972-2-538-95-27
e-mail: news@jpost.co.il <mailto:news@jpost.co.il> or
letters@jpost.co.il <mailto:letters@jpost.co.il>


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The story of the land

Land Day, March 30, 2012.

Land Day 2012, East Jerusalem
(Photograph: Menahem Kahana/AFP/Getty Images)

March 30 is Land Day in Palestine.  This year tens of thousands of Palestinians demonstrated against the theft and military occupation of their land, and the murder of non-violent protestors by Israeli forces on this day 36 years ago.  On Land Day 2012, at least one protestor was killed, hundreds injured.

Why do Palestinians keep risking their lives in non-violent protest?

Listen to Sarah Ali on the deep meaning of Land Day.  Sarah is 20, a student of English literature at the Islamic University of Gaza.  She blogs at sarahmali.wordpress.com and you can find her on twitter at twitter.com/Saritah_91.

The story of the land
by Sarah Ali, March 30, 2012  (published on Mondoweiss.)

To Dad…

I looked at his teary eyes, and, beholding something akin to happiness, I smiled.  The man I have always known to be my father was back.  He did not look like that unfamiliar block whom I could not really recognize during the last three years.  He was no longer that absent-minded, silent figure gazing at walls all the time and uninterestedly nodding whenever addressed by anyone at home.  He was there.  He was present.  He was actually listening as I went on bragging about a high grade of mine.  A phone call and a piece of paper signed by some Turkish-sponsored institution brought me back my father.  It didn’t matter what brought him back.  He was back; that was all that mattered.  I looked at his eyes again, this time more carefully lest my first glance should be false.  I saw that absolute happiness in my father’s eyes.  A big smile leaped my heart and made it to my face.  Again.

Olive grove, Palestine (Photo: Abed Othman)

As we now commemorate Land Day, we honor the people who stood up for their land back in 1976 when Israel announced that thousands of Palestinian dunams would be confiscated.  During marches held to protest against that declaration of Israel, six people were killed.

The 30th of March brings back a memory of our Land, my father’s Land.  A couple of weeks ago we got a phone call informing us that my father’s name has been selected for a reconstruction program funded by Turkey. The program aims at helping Gazan farmers whose lands were damaged during the Israeli offensive in 2008-2009 to replant their trees.  It provides farmers with all types of facilitating materials like fences, tree seeds, and irrigation systems.  My father declined to apply for those organizations that gave financial compensations to farmers.  Unlike any other aid program, this program gives no money to farmers.  It instead helps them stand on their own.

‏My father was not born a farmer, nor was he naturally brought up to plant trees.   Continue reading


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Boundary-crossing: Adrienne Rich, 1929-2012

Adrienne Rich has died, at 82, on Tuesday March 27.

(Photo: Democracy Now)

A sublime poet and essayist, gifted teacher, outspoken feminist and lesbian, Adrienne Rich was active on many fronts, including Israel/Palestine.

In February 2009, she joined the call for academic and cultural boycott of Israel.  With characteristic passion and precision, she wrote:

Why Support the U.S. Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel?
by Adrienne Rich, MRzine

Dear All,

Last week, with initial hesitation but finally strong conviction, I endorsed the Call for a U.S. Cultural and Academic Boycott of Israel.   I’d like to offer my reasons to friends, family and comrades.  I have tried in fullest conscience to think this through.

My hesitation: I profoundly believe in the visible/invisible liberatory social power of creative and intellectual boundary-crossings.  I’ve been educated by these all my life, and by centuries-long cross-conversations about human freedom, justice and power — also, the forces that try to silence them.

As an American Jew, over almost 30 years, I’ve joined with other concerned Jews in various kinds of coalition-building and anti-Occupation work.  I’ve seen the kinds of organized efforts to stifle — in the US and elsewhere — critiques of Israel’s policies, the Occupation’s denial of Palestinian humanity, destruction of Palestinian lives and livelihoods, the “settlements,” the state’s physical and psychological walls against dialogue, and the efforts to condemn any critiques as anti-Semitism.  Along with other activists and writers I’ve been named on right-wing “shit-lists” as “Israel-hating” or “Jew-hating.”  [MR: Shit-list = an online listing of “Self-hating, Israel-Threatening Jews.” The obsessive work of an extreme right-wing Jewish entity, it now identifies more than 8000 Jews worldwide who dare to challenge Israeli policies and actions.]

I have also seen attacks within American academia and media on Arab American, Muslim, Jewish scholars and teachers whose work critically explores the foundations and practices of Israeli state and society.

Until now, as a believer in boundary-crossings, I would not have endorsed a cultural and academic boycott.  But Israel’s continuing, annihilative assaults in Gaza and the one-sided rationalizations for them have driven me to re-examine my thoughts about cultural exchanges.  Israel’s blockading of information, compassionate aid, international witness and free cultural and scholarly expression has become extreme and morally stone-blind.  Israeli Arab parties have been banned from the elections, Israeli Jewish dissidents arrested, Israeli youth imprisoned for conscientious refusal of military service.  Academic institutions are surely only relative sites of power.  But they are, in their funding and governance, implicated with state economic and military power.  And US media, institutions and official policy have gone along with all this.

To boycott a repressive military state should not mean backing away from individuals struggling against the policies of that state.  So, in continued solidarity with the Palestinian people’s long resistance, and also with those Israeli activists, teachers, students, artists, writers, intellectuals, journalists, refusers, feminists and others who oppose the means and ends of the Occupation, I have signed my name to this call.

Adrienne Rich.