Showing posts with label Berlin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Berlin. Show all posts

Monday, August 25, 2014

Thoughts from a trip to Berlin

With so much news about virulent criticism of Israel morphing into antisemitism in Europe, I wondered about my plans to visit Berlin this summer. I wasn't scared for my safety, but had some trepidation about the potential for bitter, defensive conversations.

More to the point, I wasn't worried about conversations, but about not being able to have them; that I might find myself at loggerheads with people I otherwise liked, with old friends... being yelled at rather than talking. 

I was grateful to find another reality.

I've tried to explicate some of the specific political perspectives I heard below. With few exceptions, they were fairly sophisticated and nuanced- no one with whom I spoke had notions of uncompromising black and white. 

Of course if I had expected a pro-Israel consensus I would have been gravely disappointed. But fearing the opposite- blindly anti-Israel diatribes, I was relieved by the sanity of the discourse. 

I wanted to document my experience in order to help fill in a vacuum of understanding about the way this discourse is going - at least in Germany - and help mediate some alarming reports about the worst examples of discourse that seem to have been generalized to implicate the entire society.

Most significant to me was that I found virtually everyone with whom I discussed the situation open to listening. 

Why is it important to be open? Because it proves that viewpoints are not ideologically set, that learning, which is a fundamental condition of any real conversation - is possible. And because I felt that there was genuine interest in hearing my perspective, a Jewish one.

Why does it matter if a few people - the small sample of my friends - are open minded? Shortly before I arrived, there had been demonstrations including ugly antisemitic calls that were widely reported and some violent actions of grave concern. 

Two responses.

First, the offensive chants and behaviors also involved very few, and they were roundly condemned and prosecuted. It is important to understand that the perpetrators were generally relative newcomers to Germany who do not see themselves as heirs to its cruel past nor the lessons learned. Certainly, these incidents should serve as wake-up calls -- certain values such as tolerance are not optional, but rather foundational and must be accepted by all, and much more must be done to make this the case. What these incidents do not prove, however, is that Germany's broad post-War efforts to come to terms with its past and to create a better society and a more open one for Jews have failed, and it was this extreme reading that I saw reflected in much of the media coverage.

Second, a country or community - any group - doesn't stand out because of a majority, or even because there is an angry minority-  but because there is a minority that is committed to doing what is right and feels empowered. That's all, in my mind, you can ever expect -- and it's also he very best thing to hope for. Germany has been impressive to me not because of majority sentiment, but because of the individuals I've met who are so truly committed to building a better society and fighting antisemitism and racism and other inequalities in very profound ways. In this case- there is a healthy number, including the people I spoke with, who may be critical, but who are not blindly so and understand the complexity. 

One last note- I was so grateful for the unexpected openness I found - perhaps not in small part because it allowed me to be open too. I don't doubt that some of my concern in advance of the trip was that I might spend a vacation spouting talking points. 

That's not fun for me. I am someone who is eager to "translate" different experiences into greater understanding. And someone who wants desperately to see Israel living in peace with its neighbors and who needs to feel there is a chance precisely through the possibility of reconciling different narratives, pain and aspirations.



Below were some of the viewpoints I heard:

In general there was deep concern about the many Palestinian civilian casualties. One friend said she'd like to hear more nuanced viewpoints on both sides, but in particular on the Israeli side, and instead was presented with opposing black-white narratives in interviews with involved parties.

The demonstrations in Berlin were largely made up of people "of immigration background" as Germans say. Many are now also German citizens, but they carry with them a family history and often are attuned to a media and discourse whose origins are far away from Germany.

I heard strong concern about antisemitic utterances and acts that had taken place in Germany at these events - mirroring the clear condemnations of every major politician- and a worry that extremists might be bred and tolerated locally. It almost seemed a wake up call, though it is hard to predict if anything long term will result, nor is it clear what can be done most effectively beyond a society's strong insistence through education, political rhetoric, and civil courage on tolerance as a primary value, one learned in a most painful and personal way through the country's own history.

There was a deep concern about where this conflict might go and whether it would ever end, what if any long term solution might still be feasible, and a skepticism of the honest intentions of some of the players. 

There was also a clear and critical understanding of the destructive extremism of Hamas, and an understanding that Israel couldn't ignore open fire and tunnels. Perhaps the terrible revelations of ISIS acts that were concurrent with my visit lent additional emotional weight to that perspective.



Thursday, May 29, 2014

Not being jaded

Feeling sort of lucky today that though things can be frustrating and I am tired (!)- I'm not really jaded. Which means I honestly think things can be fixed and that it is worth trying.

I had a friend in Berlin who used to say that he believed half of the men he passed on the street would want to kill him of they could- not literally, but he felt this deep competition/hatred/ sense that our lives are a zero sum game with winners and losers.

I remember being shocked because I was under the impression often when I took walks that people would smile if you caught their eye. For no reason at all. Just human solidarity. A pleasant acknowledgement....

I've retained that base trust in our world.  It isn't that I haven't seen bad things and know about much worse. But I think things don't need to be bad. There are ways to inspire people to be better.

I think schools can be fixed, housing, basic levels of respect for people can be achieved, community can be strengthened, resources can be saved, values can be improved in our personal lives, etc etc.

In the end, I'm grateful for that belief and worldview. I think it gives me strength.

Friday, May 2, 2014

Heat

It's amazing how quickly 'having gratitude' turns into 'taking for granted.' I'm really interested in the basic question of how to hold onto that gratitude, and the corresponding joy and perspective that comes with it.

Heat is a good case study for me. Over the last week plus, our building has been doing major pipe work and we have had no heat. It's been a cool spring, and we've been kind of cold inside- wearing sweaters and socks, drinking lots of tea, and on a chilly rainy recent day, going to bed early to get under the warm covers. 

When I lived in Berlin in 1995, I had to heat my apartment using a coal oven. That meant schlepping huge buckets of coal up from a tiny cellar, trying to place the individual bricks in a fire-friendly formation, lighting the whole contraption, and praying... that it would actually catch fire in the oven, burn through, and subsequently warm the tiles, which would in turn radiate heat into the room. 

I think it's pretty obvious that I wasn't much good at this, and my apartment, which was my first independent one and which I absolutely adored, had the added disadvantage in winter of being on the ground floor. That meant no one heated below me either, and my floors were ice cold as a result. 

Berlin has long, dark and wet winters, and my apartment was always cold and damp. A dear friend visited and wore a full sweat suit, scarf, hat, two feather blankets, and towels on top of her to bed every night and was bitterly cold nonetheless.

My boyfriend, now husband, knew how to do the coal burning thing well, but had a bathroom that didn't have an oven or a heating unit of any sort. He was on the top floor if his building and the cold air came from every side and the roof. Going to his bathroom on a cold winter night took an unbelievable amount of courage, and I often literally ran there in preparation when I finally capitulated.

And of course, those youthful, and very memorable adventures, were nothing compared to the stories of so many people who have to endure cold in much worse conditions and over much longer stretches of time.

Elderly people are among the most vulnerable. In my current building in recent weeks, those who are home bound have had a very hard time.

And that doesn't hold a candle in turn to stories that I've become acquainted with at JDC-- of elderly people, Jews, in Ukranian villages who face an almost Siberian winter without running water and have to trudge to outside pumps, of leaky roofs and cold, damaged cement walls and outhouses. Not just for a few weeks, but for every winter of their lives...

It's miserable to be cold.. unless you are young I guess, and the situation is temporary. And then it's a good opportunity to be reminded of how wonderful and cozy it is to be warm again.