by AlicetheCurious » Wed Jul 05, 2006 5:35 pm
Nobody has the right to send anybody else 'into the fire'. First, it's immoral, and second, it's totally counterproductive.<br><br>I'll never forget my own experience as an activist in university, when we had this great, diverse group, very fun, very friendly, as long as it was just about putting up posters and holding dances to raise money.<br><br>As soon as our opposition started playing dirty, it wasn't fun anymore, and whoosh! people started dropping like flies. It wasn't that, um, you know, they disagreed with what we were doing, you know, it's great, and all, but uh, maybe we're taking this whole thing a little too seriously. You know. Like, we think we're gonna change the world? <br><br>Like so many things in life, the loss of these spineless wonders was a blessing. You know that old joke, that a camel is a horse designed by a committee?<br><br>It's so much cleaner to express your ideas as a small, tight group, who share a very similar perspective. We immediately began to form alliances with other groups on and off-campus, who shared our desire to promote human and legal rights, but who focussed on other specific issues.<br><br>Our focus was the Palestinians, we were networking and cooperating with groups concerned with South African apartheid (yeah, it was a while ago), women's rights, gay rights, anti-racism groups, etc. <br><br>We had gotten rid of the deadwood, most of whom had just wanted to join what they thought was an ethnic student association. It was hard at the time, and somewhat lonely, although the few that stuck around were incredibly supportive and tough.<br><br>Before long, though, the deadwood was replaced by a very ethnically diverse but smart, talented, and <!--EZCODE BOLD START--><strong>good</strong><!--EZCODE BOLD END--> group of people. We rocked. <br><br>We got so much done, it was amazing. People flocked to our guest lecturers, our documentaries, we were invited to make presentations all over the place, including to the Hillel campus student group. Whatever we organized, no matter how big the hall, it was packed.<br><br>When we started, people were afraid to say the <!--EZCODE BOLD START--><strong>word</strong><!--EZCODE BOLD END--> 'Palestinian'. Saying the very word was a risky political statement. At first, we were treated with hostility and threats of violence, but by the end of the first year, we were being deluged with questions and requests for more information. Some Jewish students braved the fury of their families and friends to join our group, and became among the most passionate defenders of Palestinian rights.<br><br>Despite the constant challenges, that period remains the most inspiring and joyful time in my life. <br><br>One thing it taught me, is that not everybody is meant to be an activist. In a way, it's a calling. You do it because your sense of injustice is so strong, your outrage will choke you if you don't do something to defend those who can't defend themselves.<br><br>Even when I received death threats, my reaction was to realize that the terror I felt was nothing compared to what was experienced every day by people who were so much more helpless than I, including children. The more frightened I was, the more determined I became, and the more peace I felt in doing what I deeply knew to be right.<br><br>I certainly didn't expect anybody else to endanger themselves. <br><br>Palestinians living in refugee camps and under occupation, in my experience, don't expect people to endanger themselves either. I meant what I said before, that they consider Israel to be their cross to bear. Over and over I've heard Palestinians say that <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><em>maktub</em><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> 'it is written' for them to be born into this destiny, to have to struggle and fight against injustice and oppression. In a way, they see themselves as appointed by God to be the sacrificial lamb, born to suffer for the sins of others.<br><br>The smallest gesture of support, of empathy, of solidarity, is met with lavish appreciation and hospitality, sometimes at a great price. And sometimes it breaks my heart, when these poor people who have suffered so much through no fault of their own, are so overjoyed and grateful for a kind word or gesture from those whose lives have been so privileged and comfortable.<br><br>I've personally been impatient with the whole belief in destiny that pervades the Arab world, particularly among my fellow Egyptians. But sometimes it strikes me as a very wise way of dealing with the world: you have your destiny and I have mine. Both have been determined by God, the all-powerful, the all-merciful, therefore there is no need for envy. Because both you and I will be judged on how we served God in the role that He determined for each of us.<br><br>It's worth thinking about. <p></p><i></i>