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.

  

Narrowing narratives

It's amazing to watch a big news story unfold over time. 

First there is a lot of random reporting. The news is all over the place, like pieces of a game- each one something in itself - a thought, a new fact, a comment or idea - but not necessarily tied to a greater whole.

That's an interesting time because the recipients of the news - if they really care - are actively engaged. They are trying out combinations of pieces, figuring out how seemingly unrelated bits fit together. They are making decisions- to weigh one piece of news more than another. They are truly bothered when they read something that doesn't work with what they have managed to bring together, but they can't quite rule it out.

And then suddenly the disparate pieces all start to merge together into a few big narratives. It's like someone discovered the game that's being played and now the scattered pieces take their rightful places. 

Each new story now serves a greater whole. 

How does that happen? In that initial period, a few interpretations are floated and some are stickier, seem to describe and explain the situation better. There is a certain satisfaction when these strong stories are found. They gain traction- they are repeated, restated.  There is a shift then- one gets the sense that  subsequent pieces of news are actually in the service of the larger narratives rather than the other way around.

I don't know if others are like me, but after a while of hearing these narratives, I often start finding them less rather than more convincing. It feels to me as if news is being squeezed to prove the story and the contrarian side of me starts wanting to poke holes in them and to point out contradictions.

Interestingly, it's harder to genuinely feel in this climate. This is the moment when a lot of people who don't really need to be invested tune out and when others seek like-minded confirmations. It becomes ideological- a question of belief rather than an open exploration of complex facts.

Of course there are still some people who embrace more than one narrative and make the point that it is a struggle to keep two narratives in mind simultaneously. But these voices  grow dimmer.

What am I grateful for? The insight into how this dynamic works, even as I have a horse in these races and care deeply about their outcome. But it feels too easy to have figured it all out, not reflective of a complex and changing reality.

Hate speech

There is a small statue in Berlin with a sweet, childlike cast of animal characters and these biting words, in translation here: "It's easy to be moral when your belly is full." The quote is from Brecht- perhaps the Three Penny Opera. 

I'm very cognizant of that when I am writing this... Not only that it is easy to preach when you're not hungry, but also to throw out moral theories when you are perfectly safe and not under siege. Still, being perfectly safe also affords a certain perspective on developments that I think is indeed valuable...

I'm in shock about the amount of hate speech I'm reading these days on social media. It's like a genie is out of the box and what's spewing forth is abhorrent.

Did I write a while back that I'm grateful for the sense that stereotyping is not the norm in the places I find myself? And did I lament that PC- for all the bad rap it got back in the 90s - has not laid root in most of the world?

Well, my circle of sanity has gotten a lot smaller.

Over the last days I've seen people characterized as animals, comments about how they should be wiped out, how they are fifth columns. I'm waiting for someone to describe them as a cancer- biomorphizing hate was a favorite Nazi embellishment.

That's hate speech I've pointed to all my life as dehumanizing. It's one of the values I associate with my Judaism, and  for which I'm deeply grateful .

What is dehumanizing about hate speech? It assigns motives without bothering to check, it creates a narrative without regard to the voices or intentions of those it characterizes. 

In this way, it steals individuality-  a person's volition and ability to tell his/her own story and to influence the way his/her actions are understood.

Dehumanizing is attributing motivations (and the worst possible) rather than really looking for them. Creating echo chambers rather than reaching out and asking. 

I say this knowing it's easier to speak about individuals in safety and security. But descending to this is nonetheless deeply troubling.

So what am I grateful for? My own sanity. Yes, my own safety. My own sense of sanctity?