Friends,
A stalwart in the peace movement, Dr. Art Milholland, was admitted to the University of Maryland Hospital on Saturday, August 29 with a "lower brain stem stroke" or "cerebral accident." He will remain there until at least Wednesday, and his wife Luanne, another active member of Maryland’s peace and justice movement, has been by his side.
Members of the Jonah House have visited Art, and he is staying strong despite being fed through the nose. Let me know if you are interested in visiting with him. If you do not know Art, please send good vibrations his way.
Kagiso,
Max
Why Israeli Jew Uri Davis Joined Fatah to Save Palestine
The first Jewish member of the Revolutionary Council of Fatah talks about a unique political journey
By Peter Beaumont
The Observer (UK)
August 23, 2009
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/aug/23/uri-davis-interview-israel-fatah-palestine
Uri Davis is used to denunciations. A "traitor", "scum",
"mentally unstable": those are just some of the
condemnations that have been posted in the Israeli
blogosphere in recent days. As the first person of
Jewish origin to be elected to the Revolutionary Council
of the Palestinian Fatah movement, an organisation once
dominated by Yasser Arafat, Davis has tapped a deep
reserve of Israeli resentment. Some have even called for
him to be deported.
He has been here before, not least as the man who first
proposed the critique of Israel as an "apartheid state"
in the late 1980s. Davis's involvement in the first UN
World Conference Against Racism in Durban in 2001 was
condemned by the Anti-Defamation League. During a career
of protest he has been described - inevitably - as a
"self-hating Jew". He calls himself an "anti-Zionist".
And his personal history is a fascinating testimony to
the troubled history of the postwar Israeli left and
forgotten trajectories in the story of Israel itself.
The man elected to the Revolutionary Council in 31st
place from a field of 600 has been as much shaped by the
tidal forces of recent Jewish history - not least his
own family's sufferings in the Holocaust - as any fellow
citizen of Israel. But he disputes a largely
manufactured account of that experience that he believes
has been used deliberately "to camouflage" its
"apartheid programme". Now he enjoys an extraordinary
mandate to explain his own views. And he hopes, too,
that just as the small number of white members of the
ANC widened its legitimacy during the apartheid era in
South Africa, other Jews can be attracted to participate
in Fatah, transforming it into a broader-based movement
that stands for equal rights for both Arabs and Jews in
a federated state.
So what does Davis believe, and why? His father was a
British Jew who met his mother, a Czech, in British
Mandatory Palestine in the mid-1930s, where they married
in 1939, four years before his birth. While his mother
escaped the transports to the gas chambers at Auschwitz,
many in her family did not. It is a familiar story in
Israel. But the lesson that Davis learnt from it was
different from the vast majority of Jews who concluded
that never again could Jews depend on others to
guarantee their security from persecution.
"An important part of the education that I received from
my parents," Davis recalled last week, "was never to
generalise. To beware of every sentence that begins with
'all'. It was not 'all' Germans who killed my mother's
family. It was some Nazis." Another distinction was
emphasised by his mother. "If she heard the suggestion
of vengeance, she would be horrified. She sought
justice. One of the biggest problems addressing a
Zionist audience is that the distinction between justice
and vengeance has collapsed."
He is 66 now, but that warning from his parents on the
risk of demonising the Other still resonates in Davis's
language. He is insistent that generalities should be
avoided, not least the "normative idea all Israelis are
exposed to: that all Arabs hate the Jews and all Arabs
want to drive the Jews into the sea".
His own self-description is a case in point, fine-tuned
over the decades. "It has gone through a number of
stages. In my autobiography in the mid-1990s I described
myself as a Palestinian Jew. That has now changed to a
Palestinian Hebrew of Jewish origins." How he frames his
own identity is part of his attempt to impose an
"alternative narrative" to the one that has dominated
Israel since its foundation in 1948 by what he describes
as "a settler-colonialist" strand of Zionism built on a
massive act of "ethnic cleansing". That moment - known
as the "Nakba", or the catastrophe to Arabs - saw the
flight of 650,000-750,000 Palestinians who fled or were
expelled from their homes by Jewish forces.
Davis is careful with his definitions of both "Zionism"
and his own "anti-Zionism". The Zionism that he opposes
is the "political Zionism" of Israel's founders, the
Zionism that amounts, he says, to land grab based on
ethnic cleansing.
Davis himself insists on reclaiming a wider meaning for
the word, not least because he was shaped, as he grew
up, by a different school: the "spiritual Zionism" of
thinkers such as Ahad Ha'am, religious philosopher
Martin Buber and Judah Magnes, co-founder of Jerusalem's
Hebrew University.
In contrast to political Zionism, which saw Jewish
statehood alone as a solution to the Jewish question,
these spiritual Zionists believed Palestine could not
accommodate a Jewish homeland but should become a
national spiritual centre that would support and
reinvigorate the Jewish diaspora.
Davis has written how his own "intellectual and moral
development was profoundly influenced by Buber's
writings" although he has fiercely condemned Buber's
later actions, not least Buber's appropriation of a
house in Jerusalem belonging to the family of the late
Palestinian activist and writer Edward Said.
Then there was Leon Roth, one of his father's relatives
and a fellow professor of Buber at the new Hebrew
University. Roth resigned his post after witnessing the
treatment of the Palestinian Arabs in the creation of
Israel and returned to Cambridge.
But if these were formative influences on Davis, it is
how he interpreted what he saw growing up in the young
state of Israel that marked him out as different.
Reading Gandhi and Martin Luther King led him to a
pacifist position that saw him refuse military service
in the 1960s, at a time when it was almost unheard of.
He was eventually assigned to "alternative" service
working on a kibbutz on the border with the Gaza Strip.
"I refused to participate in the armed patrols of the
kibbutz fence on the border and that led to daily
shouting matches. Then one of the members took me to the
periphery of the kibbutz where there was a cluster of
eucalyptus trees. He said: 'What can you see?' And I
said trees. Then he took me into the wood and showed me
a pile of stones. He asked me what I could see and I
said: 'A pile of stones.' He said: 'No. This is the
[Arab] village of Dirma. Its residents are refugees
while we cultivate their land. Now do you understand why
they hate us and want to drive us into the sea?
"And I said, 'But there is an alternative. We could
invite them back and share it with them.'" He pauses.
"If looks could kill. I saw that he saw me as a hopeless
case. And I'm proud to say I'm still that hopeless case."
Davis experienced a second moment of epiphany decades
later during the first Gulf war, when Iraq was firing
Scud missiles at Israel - a moment of insight related to
an unresolved question from his childhood. "I was born
in Jerusalem, but I grew up on a farm near Herziliya. I
would walk with my peers down to the beach and pass the
ruins of an Arab village under the shadow of a mosque
that was still intact. And the dominant narrative
deleted the reality. The elders of my community said
they had pleaded with the elders of the Arab village to
stay. And the elders of the Arab village refused. I had
no way to challenge this for decades.
"During the first Gulf war the penny dropped. The mayor
of Tel Aviv was abusing all those residents who had fled
under the threat from Scuds. After the war ended, the
families returned. They used their keys. Put their cash
cards in the ATMs. Re-opened their shops. What was
significant was that no one said to them: anyone who has
left has lost their property rights. That was my second crossroads."
Davis published Israel: An Apartheid State in 1987. He
distinguishes between racism and apartheid, which, he
argues, requires not simply an official value system
that distinguishes on a racial basis but a legal
reality. Indeed, Davis has written that it is wrong to
single out Israel on the grounds that it is more racist
than other states in the UN. Rather he believes it
should be singled out because, as he wrote in a letter
to Al-Ahram newspaper in 2003, "it applies the force of
law to compel its citizens to make racial choices, first
and foremost in all matters pertaining to access to
land, housing and freedom of residence".
Davis's lifetime of dissent has not been without
consequences. After joining Fatah, Davis began a long
period of "de facto exile" at the suggestion of his
lawyer to avoid a show trial. He taught during that time
at a number of British universities, including Bradford, Exeter and Durham.
Returning to Israel and the Occupied Territories in the
mid-1990s, following the Oslo Accords, Davis struggled
for years to secure an appointment at an Israeli
academic institution. " I kept my affiliation with
Exeter and Durham, which helped me with periodical
research that they farmed out to me. I also had an
inheritance." It was only recently that he was appointed
to teach a course at the Palestinian Al-Quds university
on critical Israeli studies.
His marriage in 2008 to a Palestinian woman has not made
life easier for him. She has been denied a permit to
live in Israel, while Davis is forbidden by Israeli law
to live in an area under Palestinian authority control
as an Israeli citizen. In consequence, he is vague both
about the circumstances of his conversion to Islam
shortly before the wedding and where he now lives,
describing those arrangements as "private".
What does he hope to achieve as a Palestinian Hebrew who
is a full member of the Revolutionary Council?
His core message, he explains, is "to suggest" to his
new colleagues that there is nothing to fear in
recognising the notion of a Jewish state. "The correct
response is that we will not recognise an Israel defined
by political Zionism." And perhaps just as importantly,
Davis believes that Fatah can expand its role from
representing only Palestinian Arabs to representing all
of those who oppose "settler-colonialism".
"It cannot win the struggle for equality that it has
waged for so long as long as it remains only
representative of Palestinians. To win the moral [high
ground] it has to project itself as a democratic
alternative for all. That is the message I first
delivered and that I have persevered with and has led to
my election to the Revolutionary Council after 25
years." It seems unlikely that condemnations on Israeli
websites will prevent Uri Davis from giving up on his
unique mission now.
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