On Palestine
We need to consider the perspectives of those outside our cultural awareness: and be critical of our own behaviour.
To escape cycles of violence, we need to recognise our common humanity. That seems harder to do than ever, even as it seems more urgent than ever.
This month, we had aimed to write about Black History Month (UK). To highlight the diversity of our common humanity, and the value of different viewpoints. To give more people an outlet to feel a part of something greater, to feel pride in their heritage. Alas, a combination of illness, family emergencies, and other things have drawn us from our public work.
Black History Month is still vitally important – but current events draw our attention elsewhere. To different marginalised people and the common humanity they share with us. Consider the biases we have both for and against different narratives of conflict and cultural development.
Since 2022, the story of Ukraine has emerged in the West, less viewed through the lens of Russia – although advocates point out that we have some way to go, and that Ukrainian culture is still sometimes viewed as an object (or a one dimensional victim, as noted by Protsuik from 45 minutes), while we think of Russia and cultures like our own as subjects.
We need to work on this further – what of Tibet? What of Taiwan? Where is their place in our cultural discourse, and what can we learn from them, beyond the towering place of China in our minds? As the global order seems to destabilise, become multipolar, it’s more important than ever to develop nuance and clarity to understand these conflicts, and learn from one another. Whether this is to ensure our survival by placating ascendant powers, or to build communities based on compassion and borrow cultural ideas that help us do this.
Today, however, the marginalised culture that cries out for our attention is Palestine.
Our hearts are with civilians of all colours and creeds who are affected by this conflict; both locally and as part of diasporas.
When humans are trapped in unimaginable situations – extremes of fear, pain, and desperation – they sometimes behave in unthinkable, even barbaric, ways. Being trapped in these extremes cuts off our cognitive faculties. (The discussion on Ezra Klein’s podcast is useful here – particularly from about 28 minutes)
And there, but for the grace of God, go I. Go you.
Imagine. If you can. It turns my stomach – that’s putting it mildly – but I think it’s useful to sit with our discomfort here.
Imagine being given a choice between fleeing your home and certain persecution – likely death. Where it’s clear that the prevailing authorities want your expulsion to be permanent. Where you have nowhere else to go.
You’ve been treated as a second-class citizen for a long time, but it’s only getting worse. To them, you are the darkness against their light. They explicitly call all of your community “horrible, inhuman animals”.
Imagine, after those who can have fled, being forced into a densely populated, or overcrowded area. Not where most of you are from. Supplies do come in, but not enough to permit health or flourishing . There’s little or no prospect of escape.
Imagine some of your community trying to resist. In various ways. Smuggling additional supplies; violent resistance; some peacefully. Your desperation increases, and the authorities respond by raining fire down upon your entire community.
Can you truly imagine what that – and more – would be like? How you could possibly endure such conditions? I’ve tried – it’s tremendously upsetting. And I’m not sure I can genuinely put myself in those shoes. I can see how such torment would twist the psyche, leave people with a desire to survive at any cost. To act in ways that are otherwise beyond comprehension. To fall into the clutches of groups who might prey on their desperation.
It does not excuse brutality, particularly against civilians. It’s also clear that not everyone, even under the most incredible pressure, succumbs to brutality. Even when violence and scarcity are an ever-looming threat, and even when both violence and scarcity are inflicted upon you by the state. Even when that fear is seared into your cultural memory and the trauma has weighed upon you for generations, or millennia.
But understanding this desperation might explain the brutality. People doing whatever they can to survive, in a state of utter desperation, feeling reduced to something less than human.
If we can explain it, maybe we can sow the seeds of prevention.
Growing up in the 1990s as a Christian in the global north, I was always taught that the Holocaust should never be compared to anything. In human history, it was unparalleled in depravity. Directly or indirectly, I’ve long found myself biting my tongue. It’s become a cultural norm to say nothing. I cannot begin to understand the Jewish experience, their trauma, their pain. And I agree. I’m sure I cannot. I honour their experience, their pain, their voices. I have taken time to listen (intermittently) since I was capable of understanding what the Holocaust was.
But I think that it’s time to remove the protective ring around the Holocaust. “Never again”, for sure. I don’t say it flippantly – I think it should go without saying. But I’m no longer so sure that the depravity of the Final Solution is unique. That we can afford to believe that such monstrosity is only shouted in German, on flickering archive film.
“Never again means never again for anyone.”
If you have appreciated this post, please share it with others, and consider subscribing. We are trying to extend our reach – including finding ways to give voice to underrepresented perspectives, such as Palestine. This is the place where we’d normally ask you to consider supporting us financially – but for this post, we would rather your support go to humanitarian aid for Palestinians, and/or to work fighting anti-Semitism (which is clearly being emboldened by the ongoing conflict).