Saturday, July 19, 2014

It's personal

Getting tidbits of stories of so many friends and colleagues in Israel has given me pause - not so much to think, but to feel. 

Even if thankfully no one I know has been hurt- it is not hard to understand that the constant barrage of missiles and sirens and running takes an enormous toll on these people I like and admire. Perhaps even the greater toll comes from something that underlies all-- the fundamental ceaseless unease, even if it is  well hidden in many Israelis with their tough exteriors and on many FB posts with sardonic humor. 

And many of these friends happen to be worried about people beyond themselves, which makes it all even harder- caring for their small children, teaching other people's children, and helping others - in JDC's case the most vulnerable Israelis - elderly. disabled, poor.

So it feels very personal indeed. 

There have been two reasons why I have tried to temper some of those strong feelings as well. 
 
First- I realize the vast gap between my empathy and the actual experience of living under bombs. My empathy comes when I have time for it, the actual experience comes whenever a siren goes off and, in some low level but neverending way, all the time. Given that, it feels more fitting to  "listen" or read accounts than to make pronouncements.

And second, I'm very aware that I don't know as many Palestinians at a time like this though their human stories are doubtless devastating- and this does feel like the other part of the story.

Even if you disagree vehemently with the political decisions of Hamas, as I do, it is so important in my mind to recognize the human side. 

Here's a story that moved me deeply and forms my thinking on this: In his book reflecting on his experience during the Holocaust, Jorge Semprun speaks of a visit years after the war with a woman whose home overlooked Buchenwald, where he was held. She told him with great sorrow that she had lost a son in war. He responded angrily- how could she - likely a former Nazi party member - speak to him of her sorrow, which didn't nearly add up to his own? ...And it was "her side" that held Semprun and so many others prisoner and murdered countless of them. Later, in a moving scene, he reflects on his anger and comes to appreciate, though it is painful and hard, the fact that a mother's suffering is deeply real and to be honored- from a human perspective even as the political overlay remains abhorrent. And even if she cannot do the same and appreciate his pain.

The situation is of course vastly different. But when one recognizes pain and suffering and fear- it feels right to do so broadly.

The political judgements are something else again and I don't want to get I to that here. But two points that are general but seem important:

It's too easy to equate suffering with right, and it leads to wrong answers. We need empathy when we consider the political situation, we need to get the personal- but that alone is not enough- we also need  the ability to see the other side if we ever want progress. Political thinking should include but also transcend the personal. Empathy alone leads to anger and terrible mistakes. That's why Semprun's ability to  empathize on the other side is such a feat of humanity and a source of deep wisdom and hope for me.

And, second, it's important to look at the short term decisions and also at the longer term developments together. That's hard in the moment- but crucial.

  


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