Last Friday, I participated in a vigil protesting the coup against our system of government that the Standing Together movement organized in Yafia, the village where I live. The intersection became a venue for lively conversations between demonstrators and drivers, and many of the latter honked to support the protest. Other residents joined us, and there was a pleasant feeling of a shared destiny.
The olive tree in the center of the intersection added a scent of spring. In the photographs, we look like children of nature, protected from the burdensome material world.
One young driver stopped his car, stuck his head out the window and said, “Go protest on Dizengoff,” referring to a street in central Tel Aviv. “Here, it won’t help.” And before we could reply, he added, “When Arabs were being killed by cops, where were you?” Then, before we could even digest what he said, he spoke again, this time addressing the Jews among us: “Be careful, the police may yet think you’re Arabs and shoot you.”
We continued protesting and asking supporters to honk. But I thought about this young man’s words.
Last Thursday, protesters staged a “day of paralysis” by blocking roads, including main arteries, and preventing ministers from speaking at conferences. By the end of this stormy day, 108 protesters had been arrested, of whom 100 were released that same day and the remainder the next day.
During the demonstrations of May 2021, which took place in very different locations, 3,660 Arabs were arrested and 350 were indicted. The sentences were monstrous – months and sometimes even many years in jail. Even those lucky enough not to be charged sat in jail for weeks and sometimes months before they were released.
Nine years ago, we lived through a similarly dark period due to the protests against Israeli attacks on the Gaza Strip during Operation Protective Edge. Then, too, thousands were arrested and hundreds were indicted. As I wrote at the time, “The fascists beat people up, the police arrest them and the judges approve. If an article is ever written on how Israel’s law enforcement system works, the paper absorbing the ink will blush with shame.”
I am bringing this up now because perhaps it will enable readers to understand why Arabs aren’t participating in the current democratic happening. It’s the anger, disappointment and the searing insult. “He returns with the innocence of childhood in his eyes, as if nothing had happened,” goes a poem by Nizar Qabbani. But how is that possible? We aren’t made of iron.
On Saturday, I went to a demonstration in Haifa. I intended to march with the group that opposed the occupation. Tens of thousands of people overflowed Horev Square; thousands spread out in every direction. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find my Jewish and Arab friends in the middle of this human ocean, but video footage showed police officers descending on the lone Palestinian flag. Here is another existential threat that our brave fighters intercepted at the last moment.
Not only was the flag confiscated, but the star of the evening was Yisrael Beiteinu leader Avigdor Lieberman, who once threatened to behead his Arab opponents. And then, “with the innocence of childhood,” they tell us, “Come on, Lieberman is waiting for you.”
That evening, I watched a video of Yisrael Beiteinu MK Oded Forer assailing National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir for allowing Gazans to come to Jerusalem to pray at Al-Aqsa Mosque. Hello, this is a partner?
The paradox here is that the Arabs have to be part of the protests, because this issue affects their future, yet on the other hand, some of the items on the menu at these protests are nauseating. But when has our path ever been a bed of roses?
Moreover, the leadership vacuum among the Arabs will be felt in the future in every walk of life. If they don’t make their voices heard at this fateful moment, when the road map to democracy and Arab representation in parliament is being drawn, when will they ever?
And who says it’s only possible to fight in Tel Aviv? It’s both possible and important to create frameworks for a joint struggle by Arabs and Jewish democrats, just as happened under that olive tree in Yafia, where spring truly reigned – a spring of peace, equality and brotherhood between the two peoples.
A Joint Arab-Jewish Struggle Is Possible, and Crucial
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28.03.2023
Last Friday, I participated in a vigil protesting the coup against our system of government that the Standing Together movement organized in Yafia, the village where I live. The intersection became a venue for lively conversations between demonstrators and drivers, and many of the latter honked to support the protest. Other residents joined us, and there was a pleasant feeling of a shared destiny.
The olive tree in the center of the intersection added a scent of spring. In the photographs, we look like children of nature, protected from the burdensome material world.
One young driver stopped his car, stuck his head out the window and said, “Go protest on Dizengoff,” referring to a street in central Tel Aviv. “Here, it won’t help.” And before we could reply, he added, “When Arabs were being killed by cops, where were you?” Then, before we could even digest what he said, he spoke again, this time addressing the Jews among us: “Be careful, the police may yet think you’re Arabs and shoot you.”
We continued protesting and asking supporters to honk. But I thought about this........
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