On the Footsteps of an Elusive Peace

 In Antisemitism, Honesty, Compassion, and Respect

Now, doing what’s best means defense. While defense for many outsiders is deemed oppressive, the alternative is perpetual missile attacks and bombings on buses, in restaurants, and schools. “Thank God for the soldiers. Thanks to them I can go to the grocery store. Thanks to them, I can walk outside,” my aunt announces at the Shabbat dinner table. If Israel remained idle, it would become a life anticipating death for its inhabitants— not only for Israelis, but the thousands of Arab-Israelis, Arabs, Palestinians, Christians, and Druze who live there. Sometimes, it still feels that way— a life anticipating death. What defense gives Israel is a cushion from collateral damage: If Israel remained idle, a country full of potential would be yet another failed state just like the rest of its neighbors, overtaken by autocratic, terrorist regimes that abuse their own people. In spite of due criticisms to Israel, a nexus of security, democracy, and innovation prevails.

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As we drive into and past the Jerusalem I’d always known, we stop by a neighborhood once an oasis of prosperity for Israelis and Arabs alike. Our tour guide brings us to a viewpoint to explain the context of this area, notably the green line, a border between Israeli cities and Palestinian ones. His childhood territory. He points out his old home and exact spots where he witnessed things explode like volcanoes and blood streaming out of people like lava. 

This particular neighborhood in Area C is currently undergoing much development. Although Israeli-controlled, it is disputed by Israelis in and of themselves. We observe notable construction taking place as soon as a series of IDF trucks and police cars enter. I am surprised to understand that current Israeli government officials don’t always side with new settlement efforts. “They are going to remove an
illegal settlement,” our guide tells us. “Israel has gone beyond its boundary line here.” For some, going over the green line is an act of religious zeal, and for others, a grave sin.
 

After our lunch break of crispy falafel and eggplant-tahini with puffy pita, we discuss the next chapter of our adventure. This chapter, into Palestinian areas in the West Bank, marks the climax of our geopolitical journey. We are to be welcomed by a shiny red sign with gold lettering that reads “Israelis entering Area A pose danger and threat to their own lives.” My heart races. Anxieties rise. 

I am pleasantly shocked to learn that the sign is merely a deterrent. It has been put in place by the Israeli government to prevent Israeli extremists from entering Palestinian cities and creating trouble leading to ugly, perhaps bloody, scenarios. We don’t need more of those. 

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We meet Nael on the outskirts of Bethlehem and settle in his car. He’s a Palestinian Arab. Unlike our license plate which is yellow with black digits, Nael’s bears a white background with green ones: Israeli vs. Palestinian, the center of the conflict. We drive through the touristic city—Jesus’s birthplace, a Christian Mecca— on the way to the Walled-Off Hotel. I spot a yellow-plated car here and there. Again, that sign was just a deterrent. I feel safer.

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