Lessons on empathy

First of all, I want to say this study abroad experience has been nothing less than a blessing directly from the hand of God.  When applying for this program I had hoped being thrown into the middle of the Arab-Israeli conflict would be an intensive case study in conflict resolution, the politics of peacemaking, and how to heal generations of ingrained fear and hatred.  May I just say that God, as he does so often, has blown my expectations with his big plans and personal companionship through each experience.  As Psalms says, “May he give you the desire of your heart and make your plans succeed.”  I love serving a faithful God.

We have recently had the opportunity to meet and talk with many people on either side of the Israel-Palestine conflict.  Mentally processing these interactions has been difficult; a speaker in the morning might present data on the high number of bus bombings and rocket strikes from Palestine and then in the afternoon I find myself being invited to tea with yet another lovely and loving Palestinian.  This blog post is a reflection on those dissonant interactions, plus one observation that has risen out of those interactions.  The observation: humans are severely limited in our ability to empathize with those who stand opposite us in conflict.  This truth is on most dazzling display in the Israel-Palestine conflict.

This week we had the option to learn the Palestinian dance called dabka.  These lessons were held in the refugee camp called Dheisheh on the edge of Bethlehem.  Our Palestinian instructors, Khalid and Bisan, taught us three dabka moves over the course of two hours.  The patience and joy they showed while working with us was beautiful and would undoubtedly begin melting away the hatred and fear of Arabs that many Americans hide behind.  The highlight came at the end when they asked if we would sit in a circle and share in conversation.  They asked us to tell them about ourselves and also what our first impressions of Palestine were.  After my peers and I had spoken, Khalid and Bisan began telling us that dabka was originally created as a medium through which the Palestinian story might be shared.  The story, they told us, was one of displacement, foreign occupation, tent camps and refugee living, soldier brutality, and even massacre.  They told us quite sincerely that it was now our responsibility to carry their story with us and share it with others when possible.  Go ahead and add “theatrical dancing” to the list of effective expressions of non-violent resistance.

Dabka lessons with (from left) Colin, Mikah, Khalid, me, Enoch, Katelyn, and Bisan 

One of the most difficult yet enlightening opportunities we’ve had so far came on our trip into the Israeli settlements in Palestine.  These village-like groups of homes are located in what is considered “Palestine” (actual borders are hard to come by here; everything seems to be disputed), but Palestinians do not occupy the homes.  Rather these settlements were built by and inhabited by Israeli-Jews who have pushed into Palestinian territory.  Settlements are highly controversial because they make drawing borders while negotiating a peace process nearly impossible.  To create a real border between Palestine and Israel either the Jews will have to abandon the settlements or the Israeli border will have to zigzag and cut deep into Palestinian territory to include the settlements.  The continued development of these settlements has been repeatedly declared illegal by the United Nations due to the setbacks they present to peace negotiations. 

Jewish settlement on a Palestinian hillside

We had a rare opportunity to travel to three of these settlements and hear from the mayors of two of them and a woman who worked in a Jewish synagogue in the other.  Listening to the experiences of the Jewish woman was invaluable: she had a friend die from Palestinian violence while traveling from Jerusalem to the settlement.  She also spoke about the theological reasons for why she thought settlement building was “mandated by God”.  One of the key themes she kept coming back to was the desire of the Jewish people to live simply in peace in the land of their forefathers, the land that provided for generations of her people. 

The Arabs don't appreciate the settlements. Security is
necessary.

Now the Middle East Studies Program isn’t one to let any speaker get away without answering the tough questions.  So I chimed in.  I said that her desire to live in the historic land of the Jews seemed entirely understandable and fair.  I said that we have read books and spoken with many Palestinians who express the same sentiment, they have a desire to live and work in peace on the land that provided for so many generations of their ancestors.  My question was, does your strong yearning for and connection to the land allow you to empathize with the same yearning and connection that exists in the hearts of the Palestinians?  The answer that came from this modest and kind young mother took me by surprise.  She replied (near exact quote), “It’s hard for me to recognize them when there is so much evil coming out of them.  I’ve been affected too much that I don’t want to understand their side.”

Throughout the rest of our day visiting these settlements, after hearing each new Jewish settler who spoke to us, I felt a tightening of despair begin to build inside me.  I’ve heard the Jews and Arabs in the region have a special disdain for one another, but hearing it from them personally has a much stronger effect.  We spoke to the mayor of one of these settlements.  He told us he has good relations with the average Palestinian.  The common Palestinian only desires a decent income, housing, education, and security.  For him, the problem arises when the “intellectuals” demand more than those basic needs.  Another community leader from a settlement gave us his perspective on the Palestinians desires to live in their own state on the land of Palestine.  He told us that “there is no such thing as a ‘Palestinian’ per se…. They have no history or special connection to the land… And they received their name from the biblical ‘Philistines’ because they are a historically evil people.”  

One of the signs marking areas
off-limits to Israelis (in 3 languages)

My tipping point came on the ride back to Jerusalem.  Bruce is an American Jew who immigrated to Israel to live in one of these settlements and was the one who arranged our visit.  He narrated our travels through the rolling hills of Palestine and pointed out certain roads that Jews are not allowed to travel down according to Israeli law.  Bruce expressed passionate frustration that Jews aren’t allowed to enter these parts of the Holy Land.  This seemed reasonable.  Then I began to wonder how Bruce’s frustration compared to the struggle of the Palestinians.  The Palestinian people live behind an enormous wall, aren’t allowed citizenship in ANY country, have to wait hours in line at checkpoints, and can’t travel in Israel without a rare permit.  Those who don’t have a permit are not allowed to travel through Israel for any reason: not to visit the Mediterranean Sea or to visit their ancestral homes or the homes of family members.  They are confined to the West Bank, an area smaller than Delaware.  And here Bruce is upset that he doesn’t have complete access to a few desolate roads in the middle of the Palestinian wilderness.  One would think his deep desire to have access to the entire Holy Land would allow him to better empathize with the Palestinians living under severely harsher restrictions.  Unfortunately, Bruce represents a large number of Jews (and American evangelical Christians) who believe the Palestinian problem can only be solved by removing them from the land.

Palestinian man being checked at the checkpoint

That night my brother Tyler was helping me work through my jumble of thoughts.  Actually he was just being a good listener and letting me rant.  I described the Jewish woman’s response to my question and told him about Bruce’s comment.  My frustration with their lack of empathy for the Palestinian people was visible.  Then Tyler asked me a simple yet perceptive question about the Jewish woman: “Can you empathize with her experience?” 

“Well, uhhhhh yeah, hahah, I mean, of course Tyler, duh... Okay. Honestly, not at all.  Hadn’t crossed my mind.”  In my demand that others be empathetic, I myself was void of empathy.  I fell into the exact same trap that keeps the Israeli-Palestinian relations from healing.  Had my ears been closed when the Jewish woman said she had lost a good friend to violent Palestinian terrorists?  Could I expect myself to be any more understanding than she?

Until each of us personally begins cultivating a sense of empathy, until we stop demanding that others understand us and hold ourselves to the same standard, there will be no peace among us.  Does empathy remove the enduring pain and scars caused from years of violence? Of course not.  But this empathy takes us one step closer to understanding, and understanding is one step closer to forgiveness, and forgiveness is the seedbed from which reconciliation might begin to grow.

As always, I think of many of you quite often.  Blessings to you

What I mean when I say "Palestinian wilderness"