Peace

Two Arabs rode with us home from Eilat for Shabbat. As we withdrew from the city, leaving behind the lights of both Israel's Eilat and Jordan's Aqaba, I felt for the first time like I was in the Middle East. It didn't hit me before in the isolation of Kibbutz Lotan – the tension between Israel and its neighbors – and although the car ride was pleasant, it reminded me for the first time since I got here that Israel is at war with its neighbors and within. Other than the Kibbutz' forbidden Eastern Gate which leads to the country's border, I did not feel I was in a place of conflict. Before the semester started I anticipated tension. How is it that when I was at home in the United States I was more aware of the "situation" than I am while I am actually here? Perhaps it is partially because I am in the Negev on a peaceful Kibbutz where my mind has been focussed on other things, but I think the answer is more complicated than that. Looking from the outside, most news I've heard about Israel is pessimistic, with peace not anywhere in sight. I think that it is the optimism that comes with individual successes and daily life that creates the peace I have felt here. 

When we got out of the car, my friend said to me that it is through those daily interactions, human conversations, that we make peace little by little in the Middle East. This really resonated with me. In preparation for the semester, I read a book called Peace Begins Here: Palestinians and Israelis Listening to Each Other by Thich Natch Hanh. A short piece of writing, this book takes a Buddhist perspective on the solution for peace in Israel. Hanh starts the book with a challenge: "Is it possible for Israelis and Palestinians to have a picnic and for everyone to enjoy every moment of it?" He proposes that in order for peace to be reached, everyone must first find inner peace through meditation, learning to walk and eat with mindfulness, and practicing active listening (among other things). After reading it, I have to admit, I thought it was almost funny, not practical – it didn't seem viable that a problem of such scale could be solved with such simple inward reflection. However, my experience riding with the two men has changed this. Coming from America, I am used to thinking in a way that relies on money, government, and media (these are the ways people think things are accomplished). Now I believe that peace must be achieved bit by bit, on a personal level. I struggled to connect to the conflict because I didn't experience it on a personal level. For peace, nobody can be left behind – everyone needs to be invested and involved on an individual level, thus this is the level where resolution will be found.

Why is it, then, that real social and political peace in Israel seems so far out of reach? I think there is no one answer to this question, but the two Arab men driving with us made me realize that people don't care to look at things from the others' perspective. Our driver told me a story about his brother. The pilots of the 9/11 attacks trained at a school in Florida. His brother was meant to begin studying at that school in October, but after the attacks he was no longer allowed to come to the program. I felt very uncomfortable. I was only 8 years old when 9/11 happened, but I still felt its impact. Over 10 years later, I've heard many peoples' "9/11 story" – where they were, how they found out, how it changed their life. I've never heard one from an Arab. I don't know that I ever thought about them. It's a shame that this man's brother, a PhD recipient who wants peace, was not allowed to come to America to study, and many Americans would be okay with that. We don't like to think about others. We like to keep ourselves separate, both physically and mentally. We categorize ourselves; I'm and American, He's an Arab, She's an Orthodox Jew. We don't consider people on an individual basis when we don't absolutely have to because it seems easier... I think by the state the world is in we should have realized by now that this way of thinking is not effective. I sat in the car for over 20 minutes before I realized the men were Arab Muslims. We were able to have a peaceful conversation and get to know each other as people, all labels put aside. I left the port city, where Jordan, Israel, Saudi Arabia and Egypt share a border, in a car with two Muslims, my friends from Germany and Mexico, and a new perspective on Israel.