The sun was just setting west of Al Khadr, a small town adjacent to Bethlehem and no different in its outer form with its pale grey buildings, scattered olive groves, and dusty amber veil, as we entered into the only local soccer stadium to watch a game between Ibdaa and Thakafi, a team from Tulkarem in the north. As we sat on the cement steps and in the chilling wind we looked down upon the emerald turfgrass and could see that this was going to be no ordinary game. Both teams entered and lined up midfield, on either side of a 15' poster with several photos of a handsome and smiling Tha'ar Hassan from Bethlehem, now a martyr and once a soccer player himself. The game would be in commemoration of this 23 year-old Islamic Jihad fighter who was killed in his home by the Israeli Army one year before to the day.
Behind the poster of Tha'ar, with his gleaming smile and long black curls, were 10 Palestian youth weilding bagpipes, and as they played the Palestinian national anthem each player held a hand over his heart and all spectators rose in unison. For a period of time an assortment of well-dressed men gesticulated and spoke emphatically to the modest crowd from a wooden podium in a manner akin to a passionate sermon. Unfortunatley, my comprehension of Arabic was insufficient. A bearded man, dressed more casually in blue slacks and dark shirt, then sat down in front of the poster of Tha'ar and sang verses from the Qur'an.
In the meantime, all of the players leaped as high as they could and then scuttled forward and back in rapid motions in an effort to warm up their lower limbs, their own weapons of choice. It was an average game, but its symbolism reached farther than any potent kick might have. The parents of Tha'ar were there, as was a brother one year his junior, Moataz, who was playing for Ibdaa that day. It took some time for the significance of that experience to sink in, and some serious reflection.
I recalled that during the halftime break a large white screen was carried out onto the field and a short video in memory of Tha'ar was unveiled for the first time. Many of the images might have been startling to you - of this young man cleaning his rifle, expressing his will with passion while standing before an Islamic Jihad flag, live footage of the Israeli assault and his last stand, and even his corpse. If one were to have no personal context or intimate understanding of the people here, their struggle under the very oppressive circumstances they have no choice but to endure, I think it would be very easy to feel shocked and even fearful by such imagery. Even more so if a sense of prejudgement and blanket stereotyping is immediate.
Upon reflection, I think it might be important to understand several things in this case. Tha'ar is seen as a hero. He was willing to sacrifice his life for the dignity of his community, and he chose a conventional path (one accepted by most humans the world over) to do that. Though it might be easy for most to view him as the 'enemy', a 'terrorist', or any of the other ambiguous characterizations of this community writ large, I assure you that not everyone here supports the method of armed struggle as a useful tactic. But they do see it as struggle nonetheless, and anyone who struggles, no matter the method employed, has a place in a community psyche under occupation.
It is perhaps more important to grasp another kind of struggle that is much less exposed, yet fundamentally more powerful. Think of Tha'ar's younger brother, Moataz. Sitting with arms hugging his knees, Moataz observed visions of his brother on the screen in front of him, a brother as close in age as my elder is to me. He had many choices before him. It would have been acceptable in this context for Moataz to revenge his brothers death, to take up armed struggle in his memory, no one would have objected to his gut-level enmity for his brothers killers. Yet...he was choosing to play a game of soccer instead. Can you also imagine the fortitude of Tha'ar's parents, sitting quietly in the crowd as a soccer game was played in memory of their slain son? I know that I may forever struggle to fully grasp the significance of this event, but I am beginning to see that conflict transformation is happening everyday here. The deep resolve of this community is impressive.
I can offer you countless cases in which this conflict is being transformed at its most fundamental level, by the Palestinians themselves. The ex-political prisoners I have interviewed, all of whom were kidnapped, tortured, and humiliated in their youth by the IDF have emerged believing that their struggle is not effectively fought with armaments, but with action - education and by forging lives of meaning. Another...a woman who was shot and imprisoned. She can now only use her right arm as half as well as she should be able to, and she supports her two daughters in playing on the Ibdaa basketball team so that they might find nonviolent avenues for their daily struggle. As the two girls coach, my proximity to such activities brings me great pleasure.
"The revenge feelings", as my friend here tells me, "will never go away, only the avenues chosen to express them." In this way the 'cycle of violence' that often dominates the discourse is being halted, and the reality is being transformed into something sustainable and life-giving instead, and by the people we are easily persuaded to assume are at the center of the cycle itself. For me personally, to not forgive and to revenge with a retributive intent that reaps a similar level of suffering is guaranteed to continue the cycle of misery, stagnation, and pain. But this is the world in which we live and we have much growth to do together. There are a growing number of persons whom operate unnoticed or at least unrecognized, navigating their way through their own shadows and the darker sides of our human psyche, holding a small flame in their heart with which they light their way. This is truly conflict transformation -- through personal transformation.
Behind the poster of Tha'ar, with his gleaming smile and long black curls, were 10 Palestian youth weilding bagpipes, and as they played the Palestinian national anthem each player held a hand over his heart and all spectators rose in unison. For a period of time an assortment of well-dressed men gesticulated and spoke emphatically to the modest crowd from a wooden podium in a manner akin to a passionate sermon. Unfortunatley, my comprehension of Arabic was insufficient. A bearded man, dressed more casually in blue slacks and dark shirt, then sat down in front of the poster of Tha'ar and sang verses from the Qur'an.
In the meantime, all of the players leaped as high as they could and then scuttled forward and back in rapid motions in an effort to warm up their lower limbs, their own weapons of choice. It was an average game, but its symbolism reached farther than any potent kick might have. The parents of Tha'ar were there, as was a brother one year his junior, Moataz, who was playing for Ibdaa that day. It took some time for the significance of that experience to sink in, and some serious reflection.
I recalled that during the halftime break a large white screen was carried out onto the field and a short video in memory of Tha'ar was unveiled for the first time. Many of the images might have been startling to you - of this young man cleaning his rifle, expressing his will with passion while standing before an Islamic Jihad flag, live footage of the Israeli assault and his last stand, and even his corpse. If one were to have no personal context or intimate understanding of the people here, their struggle under the very oppressive circumstances they have no choice but to endure, I think it would be very easy to feel shocked and even fearful by such imagery. Even more so if a sense of prejudgement and blanket stereotyping is immediate.
Upon reflection, I think it might be important to understand several things in this case. Tha'ar is seen as a hero. He was willing to sacrifice his life for the dignity of his community, and he chose a conventional path (one accepted by most humans the world over) to do that. Though it might be easy for most to view him as the 'enemy', a 'terrorist', or any of the other ambiguous characterizations of this community writ large, I assure you that not everyone here supports the method of armed struggle as a useful tactic. But they do see it as struggle nonetheless, and anyone who struggles, no matter the method employed, has a place in a community psyche under occupation.
It is perhaps more important to grasp another kind of struggle that is much less exposed, yet fundamentally more powerful. Think of Tha'ar's younger brother, Moataz. Sitting with arms hugging his knees, Moataz observed visions of his brother on the screen in front of him, a brother as close in age as my elder is to me. He had many choices before him. It would have been acceptable in this context for Moataz to revenge his brothers death, to take up armed struggle in his memory, no one would have objected to his gut-level enmity for his brothers killers. Yet...he was choosing to play a game of soccer instead. Can you also imagine the fortitude of Tha'ar's parents, sitting quietly in the crowd as a soccer game was played in memory of their slain son? I know that I may forever struggle to fully grasp the significance of this event, but I am beginning to see that conflict transformation is happening everyday here. The deep resolve of this community is impressive.
I can offer you countless cases in which this conflict is being transformed at its most fundamental level, by the Palestinians themselves. The ex-political prisoners I have interviewed, all of whom were kidnapped, tortured, and humiliated in their youth by the IDF have emerged believing that their struggle is not effectively fought with armaments, but with action - education and by forging lives of meaning. Another...a woman who was shot and imprisoned. She can now only use her right arm as half as well as she should be able to, and she supports her two daughters in playing on the Ibdaa basketball team so that they might find nonviolent avenues for their daily struggle. As the two girls coach, my proximity to such activities brings me great pleasure.
"The revenge feelings", as my friend here tells me, "will never go away, only the avenues chosen to express them." In this way the 'cycle of violence' that often dominates the discourse is being halted, and the reality is being transformed into something sustainable and life-giving instead, and by the people we are easily persuaded to assume are at the center of the cycle itself. For me personally, to not forgive and to revenge with a retributive intent that reaps a similar level of suffering is guaranteed to continue the cycle of misery, stagnation, and pain. But this is the world in which we live and we have much growth to do together. There are a growing number of persons whom operate unnoticed or at least unrecognized, navigating their way through their own shadows and the darker sides of our human psyche, holding a small flame in their heart with which they light their way. This is truly conflict transformation -- through personal transformation.
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