Erfan: Middle East student dialogue: As an expert in deep conflict, what I’ve learned about making conversation possible

2024/04/23 Leave a comment

Timely (the Wosk Centre for Dialogue specializes in difficult conversations):

…Secret ingredient: ‘Containers’

One secret ingredient to successfully working with groups concerned with contentious topics is creating physical and psychological conditions that make it easier to speak and listen with the goal of understanding. These are known as dialogic containers. Facilitators and participants intentionally build these, and they can include things like: how the room is set up; the level of hospitality in the space; explicit agreements participants in the group assent to about how to be together.

On the night of the BDS dialogue, I thought a lot about the container, including preparing myself intellectually and emotionally to facilitate. But in the group, we also spent nearly an hour building the container through negotiating group agreements. 

Negotiating group agreements

There are many examples of standard group agreements, but I believe in making them from scratch every time, for each unique situation and group. Often groups make agreements about confidentiality and avoiding personal attacks. 

The night of the 2015 BDS referendum, students negotiated some unique agreements, including: 

  • That we would acknowledge the right to existence for both Palestinian and Israeli people and the right to existence of the States of Palestine and Israel, according to the 1967 borders. (This item, which is in the heart of much of the contention in the region, took the majority of the hour to negotiate. It wasn’t that everyone — or anyone — in the room was happy with it — but it was enough recognition, enough of a bridge, to make the conversation possible).
  • That if the conversation stretched past 8 p.m., we would order pizza and the options must include vegetarian, gluten-free, vegan, Halal and Kosher. (I have always felt that the pizza agreement was a breakthrough because by the time you are talking about sharing food, much humanizing has happened.)

‘Flagging’ in real time

In other spaces, my students have negotiated:

  • an intention to avoid using supercharged labels thrown around on the internet (words like “race-baiter,” “snowflake” or “fascist”);
  • to replace an impulse to shout with a declaration of “I am not feeling heard”;
  • to have an observer raise a literal flag when a person was on the edge of stereotyping. 

Not all situations are ripe for dialogue. Charged civil conversations on a university campus do not solve the big conflicts of our times, nor does a whole semester in dialogue. 

Some critics even say that these initiatives divert attention, and take away the energy from pursuing justice, or that they “normalize” oppressive arrangements by sugarcoating them in dialogue. 

Capacity to be together

But these initiatives do provide a space for students who have never been in conversation with each other to talk, to ask questions that they cannot ask anywhere else and to gain more nuanced perspectives.

The capacity to be together is important to pick up while we are students, lest we think that online screaming matches or acts of despair and total disengagement are our only options.

As difficult as it is to remain in conversation on something as divisive as the Hamas-Israel war, as an educator I hope we remain on the lookout for the right time to get back into talking with each other about this on our university campuses.

Source: Middle East student dialogue: As an expert in deep conflict, what I’ve learned about making conversation possible

Filed under Multiculturalism Tagged with , ,

Car: Choose Respect

2023/11/07 Leave a comment

Winnipeg MP on the importance of dialogue, listening and respect:

How can you say you care about combatting Islamophobia or the lives of innocent children without calling for a ceasefire? How can you say you care about the loss of innocent Palestinian life if you attend a vigil for kidnapped Israelis? How can you say you care about defeating Hamas if you want Israel to respect calls for humanitarian pauses so that aid can flow?

These are several of the questions I have faced from people upset with the perspectives I have shared in relation to what has been happening in the Middle East. For some, it does not matter that I am speaking with members of both the Jewish and Muslim community every day. It does not matter that I have called for more aid to flow to Gaza, for the hostages to be released by Hamas, or for a two-state solution that can bring peace to this conflict. It does not matter that I am actively organizing meetings with police, elected officials, community leaders and experts to address the rise in hate against both the Jewish and Muslim community.

Every single word we utter, every single action we take, is parsed through by too many who are looking for some iota of ammunition they can use to establish what they believe to be an allegiance to one side or the other. It is not always about choosing a side, it is not always black and white, and it is certainly not always static.

It is possible to disagree on the ways in which we solve conflicts, without having to denigrate the character, morals, or intentions of the person with whom we disagree. President Obama said recently that “we should choose not to always assume the worst in those with whom we disagree.” How we conduct our behaviour towards others is a choice, and it is a choice we should pause to consider often.

I have had many respectful and productive conversations about the conflict recently with constituents, some Jews, some Muslims, and many from neither community. What made them respectful and productive?

First, we listened to each other. No interrupting, no positioning for the last word, just moments of genuine pause and reflection as the other spoke. Second, we were calm. No shouting, and no attempts to leave scars behind. Third, they were honest. The words conveyed stayed true to the values of those conveying them, and in that, each maintained their integrity. Fourth, and perhaps most importantly, the objective in that moment was not to change the mind of the other – or to see the inability to do so as a failure – however, it was to leave the other with a broadened understanding of an opposing point of view that provided an opportunity for further reflection. It is this that contributes to the meaningfulness of thinking critically through difficult issues.

I am grateful to those who are continuing to reach out. However difficult the discussions, they need to happen. I hope that when they do, they can unfold in the ways I have highlighted from recent experiences noted above.

Protesting outside of businesses owned by members of a specific religious community, with calls to boycott them, simply because they are members of that community, is wrong. Intentionally intimidating people in the streets, is wrong. Calling for Jews to be flushed into the sea, or for Muslims to “go back to where they came from”, is wrong. These actions are not only hateful, they also prevent the conditions necessary to foster healthy relationships and peace from taking root.

As an educator, I often worked with kids and families who had experienced traumas in their lives. In order to help heal, it required trauma informed language and practices. This means reframing our own bias, making an effort to shift from asking “what’s wrong with you?”, to “what happened to you?’. We must do our best to move from judgement to curiosity.

These are fundamental principles in a trauma informed approach to conflict resolution. The intention is not to adjudicate on questions of who or what is “right” or “wrong”. The intention, is to guide us towards greater understanding of one another’s perspectives, and to restore a sense of humanity to a societal dialogue that has become increasingly void of it.

As difficult as the conversations are that we are having right now, we must have them. One day, we all hope soon, this war will end. When it is over, we will still be neighbours, co-workers, and family. We will still want the best for our kids and our communities. In order for us to overcome the trauma and wounds left behind from this current crisis here at home, we will need to lean as heavily as ever before, on the principles of respect, compassion, and love, while choosing to see the best in one another. That starts now.

Ben Carr is the Member of Parliament for Winnipeg South Centre

Source: Choose Respect

Filed under Antisemitism, Islamophobia, Multiculturalism Tagged with , , ,

The Conversations About the War in Gaza We Ought to Be Having

2023/10/31 Leave a comment

Worth reading:

The conflict in Israel and Palestine has thrown American campuses and society into turmoil.

We are both deans of public policy schools. One of us comes from a Palestinian family displaced by war. The other served in Israeli military intelligence before a long career in academia. Our life stories converged when we were colleagues and friends for 10 years on the faculty of Princeton University. Notwithstanding our different backgrounds, we are both alarmed by the climate on campuses and the polarizing and dehumanizing language visible throughout society.

Universities should state hard truths and clarify critical issues. As leaders of public policy schools, we train the leaders of tomorrow to think creatively and boldly. It starts with countering speech that is harmful, modeling civic dialogue, mutual respect and empathy, and showing an ability to listen to one another.

Universities should not retreat into their ivory towers because the discourse has gotten toxic; on the contrary, the discourse will get more toxic if universities pull back.

Faculty and students on some campuses across the country have reported feeling unsafe in light of verbal and physical attacks. Activist groups and even student groups are screaming past one another instead of listening and engaging with the other side. The polarizing talk in media, political and campus circles create an environment lacking in sophistication and nuance.

For example, chants like “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free” are commonly perceived as calls for the annihilation of the state of Israel. What’s more, the position these chants represents completely ignores the fact that the majority of Palestinians have rejected this stance since the 1993 Oslo Accords, and leaders of the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank have consistently called for a two-state solution. Furthermore, the claim that all Palestinians in Gaza are responsible for Hamas lacks empirical support.

Condemnation of the Oct. 7 massacre of Israeli civilians by Hamas — and calling it out as an act of terrorism — shouldn’t be avoided out of risk of offending Palestinians and their supporters. Not condemning the terrorist attacks is a failure of a moral core, and by no means should condemnation of terrorism be viewed as incompatible with believing in Palestinian rights and statehood, alongside Israel. Terrorism is, by common understanding, an attack on all humanity.

We teach our students to deal with policy predicaments that start with tough questions that require understanding opposing ideas. The uncertainty about what the future of Gaza will look like, whether the peace process can be revived and how the security and safety of Israelis and Palestinians will be achieved — these are, to be sure, hard questions with solutions that do not fit on placards.

While campus groups and all Americans enjoy freedom of speech, educators at universities must respond to speech that is harmful, hateful, untrue or lacking nuance and historical context. Free speech only works when there is vigorous counter speech.

As deans, we also know that in this volatile political environment, we must ensure that our campuses have places where each side can air their opinions and even come together and hold difficult conversations without fear of retaliation. Examples of this include webinars that our respective schools held in the wake of the attacks featuring a diversity of voices, including academics and policymakers, Israelis and Palestinians, Democrats and Republicans. That must start with the core element of civic engagement and civil disagreement.

Campuses must protect free speech, but equally advocate for mutually respectful dialogue. That obligation is both especially important and especially demanding in our current political and societal landscape.

A discussion of the actions that states should take in self-defense is worth convening, as well as one on the conduct of warfare in a dense urban environment. Israel’s response should be directed at eliminating the threat posed by Hamas, not at innocent civilians in Gaza. What that means in practice is a matter for debate. Calling out Israel for its bombing of civilian areas in Gaza shouldn’t be avoided out of risk of offending Israelis and their supporters.

There is no better place for these discussions than a university campus. But sponsoring this kind of debate takes courage.

As educators, we at times have to make our students uncomfortable by challenging their preconceptions and encouraging them to think through their positions using data, evidence and logic. It is unrealistic to believe that individuals can put their emotions away. But if a university doesn’t encourage students to reflect on how their own emotions shape, and occasionally distort, their analysis of the world around them, where else could they possibly learn this?

Even prior to the current violence, the Arab-Israeli conflict was an intensely uncomfortable topic to discuss, and, unfortunately, some schools may try to solve that problem by omitting it from their curriculums. Journal editors may be wary of wading into such hotly charged topics. This gap has left an intellectual vacuum filled by hate speech, antisemitism, Islamophobia and other stereotypical tropes on campuses and crowded out rigorous empirical analysis and reasoned discussions. Add to that a polarized media establishment, political landscape and social media, and no wonder we’ve seen the conversation on campus devolve into a verbal war of platitudes and talking points.

We remain hopeful, however. Over the past few weeks, we’ve also witnessed a vibrant student body eager for more information around these issues.

Universities play a vital role in shaping the conversation. Polls show that universities still enjoy a higher level of trust by the public than many other institutions, although it is dwindling. We have unique access to the world’s best intellectual minds and financial resources to support them.

We will squander this trust and legacy if we stay on the sidelines.

 Amaney Jamal and Keren Yarhi-Milo: Dr. Jamal is the dean of the Princeton School of Public and International Affairs. Dr. Yarhi-Milo is the dean of Columbia University’s School of International and Public Affairs.

Source: The Conversations About the War in Gaza We Ought to Be Having

Filed under Multiculturalism Tagged with , , , , ,

Lisée: Le droit au monologue

2023/04/11 Leave a comment

A noter:

Ce n’est pas tous les jours que 388 professeurs, auteurs et personnalités se donnent la peine de signer une lettre commune, publiée mardi dans Le Devoir (« Ce ne sont pas que des mots »), pour nous avertir de « dérapages inquiétants, de plus en plus nombreux » dans le débat public au Québec.

M’étant plusieurs fois exprimé, y compris dans ces pages, sur la nécessité d’un débat qui, s’il peut être robuste, doit toujours être respectueux, j’ai été étonné que ma signature n’ait pas été sollicitée. J’ai compris pourquoi une fois avoir soigneusement examiné de quoi il était question.

Les signataires nous y aident en donnant, au total, quatre exemples de ce qui leur paraît intolérable. Il s’agit d’abord d’une entrevue donnée à Stéphan Bureau par Léa Clermont-Dion. Elle y décrit son groupe social d’origine à Rawdon comme étant du « White trash ». Une expression dure, rarement utilisée au Québec, mais courante aux États-Unis pour désigner une population blanche marginale, peu éduquée. Bureau lui demande si elle oserait aussi parler de « Black trash ». « Ben non, ça marcherait pas », dit-elle.

L’échange a été capté par un chroniqueur de Québecor, Mathieu Bock-Côté (MBC), qui y a vu un exemple de « racisme anti-blanc ». (Détail savoureux : ce sont les esclaves noirs du sud des États-Unis qui ont inventé le terme pour dénigrer ces Blancs). L’argument du deux poids, deux mesures se tient, mais la charge de MBC est un peu lourde, d’autant que Clermont-Dion s’amende, dans l’entretien, d’avoir utilisé le terme. Puis, le reproche lui en a été fait sur les réseaux sociaux. J’y reviens.

Les signataires renvoient ensuite à un gazouillis où une autrice et éditrice écrivait ceci : « Les élections et leurs hochets habituels — et même certains dont nous croyions qu’ils appartenaient à un vieux Québec ranci et révolu : l’immigration, l’identité, le vilain étranger, les maudits intellectuels ». Je ne la nomme pas parce que les signataires s’insurgent que de tels propos entraînent une riposte ad hominem, mais surtout parce qu’elle a retiré la publication. Le gazouillis serait passé inaperçu si MBC n’avait pas jugé dans son blogue qu’il « est difficile de trouver un propos plus méprisant à l’endroit des centaines de milliers de Québécois qui prennent la question identitaire au sérieux ».

Pour moi, c’est clair : les deux positions ont droit de cité dans notre débat public. L’autrice a le droit de penser et d’écrire que ces thèmes reflètent un « Québec ranci et révolu », d’autres ont droit de répliquer que cette opinion suinte le mépris.

Le troisième cas concerne l’auteur et vice-président de la Ligue des droits et libertés, Philippe Néméh-Nombré. Dans Seize temps noirs pour apprendre à dire kuei, (Mémoire d’encrier), il écrit : « Une autopatrouille qui brûle est une promesse. » Ce qui lui vaut, toujours par MBC, une accusation de glorifier la violence antipolicière. Cette phrase est prise « hors contexte », écrivent les signataires. Je suis allé le lire. J’ai bien trouvé cet autre extrait : « Détruire des ordinateurs, fracasser des vitrines, brûler des autopatrouilles, bloquer des ponts, des voies ferroviaires. » Mais je n’ai trouvé aucun contexte qui puisse laisser entendre que ces phrases ne doivent pas être prises au premier degré. Il s’agit, au mieux, d’une normalisation de la violence, au pire, de sa glorification. Que les signataires estiment que cela devrait passer comme une lettre à la poste laisse songeur.

Finalement, la lettre nous emmène en 2018, dans la foulée de l’attentat à la mosquée de Québec. Dans un texte publié dans La Presse, la prof et psychiatre Marie-Eve Cotton estime troublant que certains se montrent empathiques envers les troubles psychiatriques de l’accusé, Alexandre Bissonnette, mais n’en fasse pas autant envers les tueurs islamistes qui ne sont, écrit-elle, « pas moins désespérés, apeurés, perdus, et habités d’une colère qui cherche un objet sur lequel se déverser ». Cette fois, c’est Richard Martineau qui monte au créneau, estimant qu’il faut distinguer « un massacre perpétré par une personne déséquilibrée et dépressive et un attentat sanguinaire commis au nom d’une cause par un terroriste qui revendique fièrement son geste ». Ici encore, les deux positions doivent avoir droit de cité. (Je trouve pour ma part des parcelles de vérité dans les deux textes.)

Les signataires se plaignent que la force de la riposte est disproportionnée, de deux façons. D’abord, parce que des chroniqueurs et animateurs ont des tribunes dont l’empreinte est très large; ensuite, parce que leurs critiques entraînent sur la Toile un flot de commentaires souvent haineux qui traumatise l’auteur du texte critiqué. Personne n’est préparé pour le torrent de réactions qu’une première déclaration tranchée peut provoquer. Mais tous ceux qui mettent le petit orteil dans le débat public doivent savoir que cette tempête permanente existe. Il n’y a que deux façons d’y survivre : pour les menaces, on appelle le 911, pour toute violence verbale, on bloque jusqu’à ce que la racaille disparaisse de nos fils.

Mais la lettre ouverte appelle les propriétaires de médias à mettre leurs chroniqueurs et animateurs en laisse. Ils devraient s’abstenir de relever qu’untel parle d’un « Québec ranci » et que tel autre sourit à la vue d’une autopatrouille en flamme. Au nom de quoi, exactement ? Du droit de ne pas être contredit ? Du droit au monologue ?

Je remarque, dans la liste des « victimes » citées et les signatures, des gens qui, à répétition, ont écrit que ceux qui n’étaient pas de leur avis sur la question de la laïcité étaient, nécessairement, des opportunistes et des racistes. On comprend que, du haut de leur certitude d’être les seuls porteurs de la raison, ils voudraient que leur intolérance et leur irrespect de l’autre ne soient relevés par personne, ou alors qu’on taise leurs noms dans les répliques, même lorsqu’ils persistent et signent dans l’insulte.

L’argument de la disproportion des voix aurait de la valeur si l’espace médiatique québécois n’était pas si diversifié. Toute personne outrée peut publier sa prose sur son blogue ou ses réseaux avec l’appui et le relais de sa communauté de vues. Des lettres ouvertes sont acceptées dans tous les médias. J’admets qu’il manque de signatures et de tribunes, disons, « woke », à Québecor, mais ce n’est pas le cas dans ce quotidien-ci, ni à La Presse ni à Radio-Canada.

On pourrait débattre, chiffres à l’appui, de la présence médiatique relative des deux grandes tendances intellectuelles qui s’affrontent. Il faut cependant savoir qu’en politique comme dans le débat d’idées, chacun est toujours convaincu que l’autre camp a trop de visibilité.

J’ai jugé particulièrement significatif de constater que le signataire principal de cette lettre, Mathieu Marion, dénonçant le manque de retenue et de respect et les attaques ad hominem, un prof de l’UQAM, a affirmé quelques jours auparavant sur Twitter que la pensée de MBC s’apparentait à de la « pink slime » — cette viande artificielle dont la vue lève le cœur. Ce qui me rappelle vaguement une histoire de paille et de poutre.

Source: Le droit au monologue

Filed under Multiculturalism Tagged with , , ,

I’m a recovering anti-racist educator. Here’s what I’ve learned since leaving the activist space

2021/10/04 Leave a comment

Worth reflecting upon and the need for more space for emotions and compassion:

Right after 9/11, almost exactly 20 years ago, I burned out and walked away from community activism – not because of the terrorist attacks themselves, but rather because of being emotionally disconnected from myself as well as the nature of the work I had undertaken as an anti-racist educator.

I recall a specific situation that unmoored me. In a community meeting, I watched a group of my activist peers squabble and snipe at one another as they tried to decide how to respond to this immense tragedy. People competed to influence the room with their various world views: anti-war, anti-racism, anti-globalization, anti-poverty, union, direct-action and feminist perspectives. The environment was very ideological, sharply divided and terribly unfriendly – which was surprising, considering that these people were supposed to be working toward a socially just world.

I remember anger and frustration boiling over inside me, and I remember that instead of engaging the room, I began to emotionally detach. This detachment also spread to my personal life; many of my relationships frayed, as I became unable to meet my obligations to those I loved. I grew to feel resentful about giving so much of my time to the outside world and began to question what I was doing and why. I was worn out, and walked away.

As someone who’s worked as a racial justice educator for more than 25 years, I’ve had a front-row seat to the progress in my field and the struggles we continue to face. And after a great deal of personal healing, I did eventually re-enter racial justice work with new tools and perspectives including psychology, neuroscience, conflict mediation, organizational change and trauma therapy – and a clearer understanding of how to do this work better.

We are in a unique moment today, as the concept of “systemic racism” is finally being discussed on a mainstream level. We enjoy the fruits of the civil rights era, with overt racism rendered unacceptable in society. But we need to have a public conversation about how to effectively teach – not just talk – about systemic forms of racism, as the lives and well-being of millions of people are on the line, not to mention the mental health of justice educators themselves. The ideological rigidity that’s too often present in progressive communities shapes the ways we train activists; it doesn’t have to be this way, if we make space for human emotions.

We also have to go deeper to tackle the systemic forms of racism, which are more subtle yet ubiquitous in all sectors of society. With overt racism, it’s obvious who we have to confront: the racists. But challenging the system of racism is much more complex because it’s not easy to find bigots spouting overt racial slurs inside organizations – such “bad apples” are rare today.

Systemic discrimination isn’t intuitive unless you experience it directly, and only becomes widely visible through data analysis. Various studies show that résumés submitted with white-sounding names such as John or Jessica can have a higher chance of a callback for interviews than those with names like Jamal or Jagdeep. We may not even be aware we are acting with this bias, something any of us can be implicated in regardless of skin colour or identity.

To address such racist patterns, we have to confront ourselves. This is tricky because self-interrogation makes many of us feel defensive, angry or ashamed. My experience and research demonstrates that emotions are critical to facing the racial equity puzzle. Yet, as a society, we don’t do emotions well – nor do academics, the de facto leaders of social justice work.

In a social justice setting, leadership tends to come from history and sociology professors with non-traditional, or “critical” perspectives.

Understanding such viewpoints matters, as it helps us integrate perspectives of marginalized groups and uncover hidden racial patterns. If you don’t know the violent history of residential schools, then understanding the importance of reconciliation with Indigenous communities may be hard to grasp. Sociological research has helped illuminate institutional racial patterns such as the underservicing of Black and Indigenous peoples in health care and the over-policing of these same communities. This knowledge can both relieve and empower marginalized communities, as it makes clear there’s something wrong with the system, not us.

An intellectually driven historical-sociological lens, then, fortifies social justice work – but it can also be its weakness. It forces people to stare unblinkingly into the endless abyss of social inequities and tragedies, which can make people feel overwhelmed and despairing – emotions that can lead to turning away or burning out, since most activist or academic spaces provide little space for processing.

It’s not hopeless, however. Rather than throwing the baby out with the bath water, the answer is to integrate emotional literacy within traditional approaches to social justice.

I’ve seen promising results when we give more space for emotions and compassion in a process that values relationship-building; in these situations, both racialized and white people benefit because learning, not perfection, is the goal. Recently, a workshop participant shared that they often felt emotionally off-balance as the only racialized person in rooms full of white people, affecting their ability to speak or ask questions. A white person followed up with how they were often silent during conversations about race because they felt incompetent and anxious about making mistakes. My colleague pointed out that such vulnerability is an indicator these two were engaged in a conversation about racism and its effects, rather than blaming, getting defensive or shutting down. Our data shows that such processes increase buy-in and accountability, with more ability to talk about complex issues related to social power and racial privilege. And tough issues honestly faced are more likely to be fixed.

Recently, I watched a group of activists organizing against neo-Nazis marching through their city. As they organized, they bickered and criticized each other in a manner that made me wonder if they were clear who they were fighting with. Trying to exclusively think our way through social change keeps our hackles high, ready to unleash our emotions on any perceived slight or misstep; it clouds our ability to distinguish ally from antagonist.

I have the benefit of understanding that more clearly now. And real progress can be made if we recognize that emotions aren’t an impediment to advancing the work of racial justice. Emotions are the work.

Shakil Choudhury is the co-founder of Anima Leadership and author of the new book Deep Diversity: A Compassionate, Scientific Approach to Achieving Racial Justice.

Source: https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/article-im-a-recovering-anti-racist-educator-heres-what-ive-learned-since/

Filed under Multiculturalism, Racism Tagged with , ,

A Rap Song Lays Bare Israel’s Jewish-Arab Fracture — and Goes Viral

2021/07/23 Leave a comment

An example of frank, open and unvarnished dialogue, leading to mutual respect and understnading:

Uriya Rosenman grew up on Israeli military bases and served as an officer in an elite unit of the army. His father was a combat pilot. His grandfather led the paratroopers who captured the Western Wall from Jordan in 1967.

Sameh Zakout, a Palestinian citizen of Israel, grew up in the mixed Arab-Jewish town of Ramla. His family was driven out of its home in the 1948 war of Israeli independence, known to Palestinians as the “Nakba,” or catastrophe. Many of his relatives fled to Gaza.

Facing each other in a garage over a small plastic table, the two hurl ethnic insults and clichés at each other, tearing away the veneer of civility overlaying the seething resentments between the Jewish state and its Palestinian minority in a rap video that has gone viral in Israel.

The video, “Let’s Talk Straight,” which has garnered more than four million views on social media since May, couldn’t have landed at a more apt time, after the eruption two months ago of Jewish-Arab violence that turned many mixed Israeli cities like Lod and Ramla into Jewish-Arab battlegrounds.

By shouting each side’s prejudices at each other, at times seemingly on the verge of violence, Mr. Rosenman and Mr. Zakout have produced a work that dares listeners to move past stereotypes and discover their shared humanity.

Mr. Rosenman, 31, says he wants to change Israel from within by challenging its most basic reflexes. “I think that we are scared and are controlled by fear,” he says.

Mr. Zakout, 37, wants to change Israel by overcoming their forebears’ traumas. “I am not emphasizing my Palestinian identity,” he says. “I am a human being. Period. We are human beings first.”

At first viewing, the video seems like anything but a humanistic enterprise.

Mr. Rosenman, the first to speak, launches into a relentless three-minute anti-Palestinian tirade.

“Don’t cry racism. Stop the whining. You live in clans, fire rifles at weddings,” he taunts, his body tensed. “Abuse your animals, steal cars, beat your own women. All you care about is Allah and the Nakba and jihad and the honor that controls your urges.”

The camera circles them. A guitar screeches.

Mr. Zakout tugs at his beard, looks away with disdain. He’s heard it all before, including that oft-repeated line: “I am not a racist, my gardener is Arab.”

Then Mr. Zakout, his voice rising, delivers the other side of the most intractable of Middle Eastern stories.

“Enough,” he says. “I am a Palestinian and that’s it, so shut up. I don’t support terror, I’m against violence, but 70 years of occupation — of course there’ll be resistance. When you do a barbecue and celebrate independence, the Nakba is my grandmother’s reality. In 1948 you kicked out my family, the food was still warm on the table when you broke into our homes, occupying and then denying. You can’t speak Arabic, you know nothing of your neighbor, you don’t want us to live next to you, but we build your homes.”

Mr. Rosenman fidgets. His assertive confidence drains away as he’s whisked through the looking-glass of Arab-Jewish incomprehension.

The video pays homage to Joyner Lucas’s “I’m Not Racist,” a similar exploration of the stereotypes and blindness that lock in the Black-white fracture in the United States.

Mr. Rosenman, an educator whose job was to explain the conflict to young Israeli soldiers, had grown increasingly frustrated with “how things, with the justification of past traumas for the Jews, were built on rotten foundations.”

“Some things about my country are amazing and pure,” he said in an interview. “Some are very rotten. They are not discussed. We are motivated by trauma. We are a post-traumatic society. The Holocaust gives us some sort of back-way legitimacy to not plan for the future, not understand the full picture of the situation here, and to justify action we portray as defending ourselves.”

For example, Israel, he believes, should stop building settlements “on what could potentially be a Palestinian state” in the West Bank, because that state is needed for peace.

Looking for a way to hold a mirror to society and reveal its hypocrisies, Mr. Rosenman contacted a friend in the music industry, who suggested he meet Mr. Zakout, an actor and rapper.

They started talking in June last year, meeting for hours on a dozen occasions, building trust. They recorded the song in Hebrew and Arabic in March and the video in mid-April.

Their timing was impeccable. A few weeks later, the latest Gaza war broke out. Jews and Arabs clashed across Israel.

Their early conversations were difficult.

They argued over 1948. Mr. Zakout talked about his family in Gaza, how he missed them, how he wanted to get to know his relatives who lost their homes. He talked about the Jewish “arrogance that we feel as Arabs, the bigotry.”

“My Israeli friends told me I put them in front of the mirror,” he said.

Mr. Rosenman said he understood Mr. Zakout’s longing for a united family. That was natural. But why did Arab armies attack the Jews in 1948? “We were happy with what we got,” he said. “You know we had no other option.”

The reaction to the video has been overwhelming, as if it bared something hidden in Israel. Invitations have poured in — to appear at conferences, to participate in documentaries, to host concerts, to record podcasts.

“I’ve been waiting for someone to make this video for a long time,” said one commenter, Arik Carmi. “How can we fight each other when we are more like brothers than we will admit to ourselves? Change won’t come before we let go of the hate.”

The two men, now friends, are at work on a second project, which will examine how self-criticism in a Jewish and Arab society might bring change. It will ask the question: How can you do better, rather than blaming the government?

Mr. Zakout recently met Mr. Rosenman’s grandfather, Yoram Zamosh, who planted the Israeli flag at the Western Wall after Israeli paratroopers stormed into the Old City in Jerusalem during the 1967 war. Most of Mr. Zamosh’s family from Berlin was murdered by the Nazis at the Chelmno extermination camp.

“He is a unique and special guy,” Mr. Zakout said of Mr. Zamosh. “He reminds me a little of my grandfather, Abdallah Zakout, his energy, his vibes. When we spoke about his history and pain, I understood his fear, and at the same time he understood my side.”

The video aims to bring viewers to that same kind of understanding.

“That’s the beginning,” Mr. Zakout said. “We are not going to solve this in a week. But at least it is something, the first step in a long journey.”

Mr. Rosenman added: “What we do is meant to scream out loud that we are not scared anymore. We are letting go of our parents’ traumas and building a better future for everyone together.”

The last words in the video, from Mr. Zakout, are: “We both have no other country, and this is where the change begins.”

They turn to the table in front of them, and silently share a meal of pita and hummus.

Source: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/21/world/middleeast/israel-palestinian-rap-video.html?action=click&module=Well&pgtype=Homepage&section=World%20News

Filed under Multiculturalism Tagged with , , , , ,

Wajahat Ali: ‘Reach Out to Trump Supporters,’ They Said. I Tried.

2020/11/20 Leave a comment

Still better to reach out and listen.

Dialogue doesn’t have to lead to agreement but should improve understanding of the issues and perspectives if entered in good faith on all sides and a willingness to look at the evidence and facts (not “alternative facts”).

But agreed given some of the cultish aspects of Trump followers, hard to break through:

73 million Americans voted for Donald Trump. He doubled down on all his worst vices, and he was rewarded for it with 10 million more votes than he received in 2016.

The majority of people of color rejected his cruelty and vulgarity. But along with others who voted for Joe Biden, we are now being lectured by a chorus of voices including Pete Buttigieg and Ian Bremmer, to “reach out” to Trump voters and “empathize” with their pain.

This is the same advice that was given after Trump’s 2016 victory, and for nearly four years, I attempted to take it. Believe me, it’s not worth it.

The Quran asks Muslims to respond to disagreements and arguments “in a better way” and to “repel evil with good.” I tried. “You might not like me, and I might not like you, but we share the same real estate. So, here’s me reaching out across the aisle. American to American,” I said in a video message to Trump supporters published the day after the election.

I really thought it might work. Growing up, I often talked about my Islamic faith with my non-Muslim friends, and I like to think that might have helped to inoculate them from the Islamophobic propaganda and conspiracy theories that later become popular. So I assumed I could win over some Trump supporters whose frustrations and grievances had been manipulated by those intent on seeing people like me as invaders intent on replacing them.

So in late 2016, I told my speaking agency to book me for events in the states where Trump won. I wanted to talk to the people the media calls “real Americans” from the “heartland,” — which is of course America’s synonym for white people, Trump’s most fervent base. Over the next four years I gave more than a dozen talks to universities, companies and a variety of faith-based communities.

I reminded them that those who are now considered white, such as Irish Catholics, Eastern European Jews, Greeks and Italians, were once the boogeyman. I warned them that supporting white nationalism and Trump, in particular, would be self destructive, an act of self-immolation, that will neither help their families or America become great again.

And I listened. Those in the audience who supported Trump came up to me and assured me they weren’t racist. They often said they’d enjoyed the talk, if not my politics. Still, not one told me they’d wavered in their support for him. Instead, they repeated conspiracy theories and Fox News talking points about “crooked Hillary.” Others made comments like, “You’re a good, moderate Muslim. How come others aren’t like you?”

In Ohio, I spent 90 minutes on a drive to the airport with a retired Trump supporter. We were cordial to each other, we made jokes and we shared stories about our families. But neither of us changed our outlook. “They’ll never take my guns. Ever,” he told me, explaining that his Facebook feed was filled with articles about how Clinton and Democrats would kill the Second Amendment and steal his guns. Although he didn’t like some of Trump’s “tone” and comments, he didn’t believe he was a racist “in his heart.” I’m not a cardiologist, so I wasn’t qualified to challenge that.

In 2017, I was invited by the Aspen Institute — which hosts a festival known for attracting the wealthy and powerful — to discuss racism in America. At a private dinner after the event, I was introduced to a donor who I learned was a Trump supporter. As soon as I said “white privilege,” she began shooting me passive aggressive quips about the virtues of meritocracy and hard work. She recommended I read “Hillbilly Elegy” — the best-selling book that has been criticized by those living in Appalachia as glorified poverty porn promoting simplistic stereotypes about a diverse region.

I’ve even tried and failed to have productive conversations with Muslims who voted for Trump. Some love him for the tax cuts. Others listen only to Fox News, say “both sides” are the same, or believe he hasn’t bombed Muslim countries. (They’re wrong.) Many believe they are the “good immigrants,” as they chase whiteness and run away from Blackness, all the way to the suburbs. I can’t make people realize they have Black and brown skin and will never be accepted as white.

I did my part. What was my reward? Listening to Trump’s base chant, “Send her back!” in reference to Representative Ilhan Omar, a black Muslim woman, who came to America as a refugee. I saw the Republican Party transform the McCloskeys into victims, even though the wealthy St. Louis couple illegally brandished firearmsagainst peaceful BLM protesters. Their bellicosity was rewarded with a prime time slot at the Republican National Convention where they warned about “chaos” in the suburbs being invaded by people of color. Their speech would have fit well in ”The Birth of a Nation.”

We cannot help people who refuse to help themselves. Trump is an extension of their id, their culture, their values, their greed. He is their defender and savior. He is their blunt instrument. He is their destructive drug of choice.

Don’t waste your time reaching out to Trump voters like I did. Instead, invest your time organizing your community, registering new voters and supporting candidates who reflect progressive values that uplift everyone, not just those who wear MAGA hats, in local and state elections. Work also to protect Americans against lies and conspiracy theories churned out by the right wing media and political ecosystem. One step would be to continue pressuring social media giants like Twitter and Facebook to deplatform hatemongers, such as Steve Bannon, and censor disinformation. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

Or, you can just watch “The Queen’s Gambit” on Netflix while downing your favorite pint of ice cream and call it a day.

Just as in 2016, I don’t need Trump supporters to be humiliated to feel great again. I want them to have health insurance, decent paying jobs and security for their family. I do not want them to suffer, but I also refuse to spend any more time trying to understand and help the architects of my oppression.

I will move forward along with the majority who want progress, equality and justice for all Americans. If Trump supporters decide they want the same, they can always reach out to me. They know where to find me. Ahead of them.

Source: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/11/19/opinion/trump-supporters.html?surface=most-popular&fellback=false&req_id=943976581&algo=bandit-all-surfaces&imp_id=846925651&action=click&module=Most%20Popular&pgtype=Homepage

Filed under Other Tagged with , ,

I’m a Black Feminist. I Think Call-Out Culture Is Toxic. There are better ways of doing social justice work.

2019/08/19 Leave a comment

Thoughtful reflections:

Today’s call-out culture is so seductive, I often have to resist the overwhelming temptation to clap back at people on social media who get on my nerves. Call-outs happen when people publicly shame each other online, at the office, in classrooms or anywhere humans have beef with one another. But I believe there are better ways of doing social justice work.

Recently, someone lied about me on social media and I decided not to reply. “Never wrestle with a pig,” as George Bernard Shaw said. “You both get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it.” And one of the best ways to make a point is to ignore someone begging for attention. Thanks, Michelle Obama, for this timely lesson; most people who read her book “Becoming” probably missed that she subtly threw shade this way.

Call-outs are often louder and more vicious on the internet, amplified by the “clicktivist” culture that provides anonymity for awful behavior. Even incidents that occur in real life, like Barbeque Becky or Permit Patty, can end up as an admonitory meme on social media. Social media offers new ways to be the same old humans by virally exposing what has always been in our hearts, good or bad.

My experiences with call-outs began in the 1970s as a young black feminist activist. I sharply criticized white women for not understanding women of color. I called them out while trying to explain intersectionality and white supremacy. I rarely questioned whether the way I addressed their white privilege was actually counterproductive. They barely understood what it meant to be white women in the system of white supremacy. Was it realistic to expect them to comprehend the experiences of black women?

Filed under Multiculturalism Tagged with , ,

How to win friends and influence some prejudiced people: Alheli Picazo

2017/09/02 Leave a comment

Good long read on finding common ground for discussion of differences (excerpt). Contrast with the pessimism of Don’t bother trying to understand those on the ‘other side’ – Mark Kingwell:

Jonathan Haidt studies the psychological foundations of morality, and his book The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religionintroduced the Moral Foundations Theory, positing that liberals and conservatives are uniquely motivated by five distinct moral dichotomies that frame their thinking. Liberals, for instance, place greater importance on matters of care/harm and fairness/cheating, while conservatives value the concepts of loyalty/betrayal and authority/subversion. These competing values, in part, fuel the Black Lives Matter vs. Blue Lives Matter fight.

Take, for instance, the case of Jeronimo Yanez, an officer with Minnesota’s St. Anthony Police Department, who was acquitted in June on all charges of criminal wrongdoing in the shooting death of Philando Castile, a black man who he’d pulled over on account of a broken tail light. Castile was, by all accounts, the sort of man conservatives routinely suggest are absent in black communities—his record was clean, he was a role model for local youth, he had a job and a girlfriend and served as a father to her four-year-old daughter. Castile’s life approach, described by a longtime friend, was always “‘play it by the books.’ ”

Dashcam video revealed Castile as attentive and respectful toward the officer when he was pulled over, and showed he proactively informed Yanez of the presence of a gun which he was fully licensed to carry. Mere seconds later, Yanez opened fire, unloading seven rounds into the car, five of which hit Castile.

Conservatives who’d always found reason to justify previous deaths of black men at the hands of police, but who decried the officer’s acquittal in this case, were able to find common cause with Castile largely because of the Second Amendment aspect. That moral frame forced them to see not a black man—someone who was “other”—but a fellow patriotic American whose black life should have mattered.

That’s no small revelation. And yet, while many champions of police reform welcomed the conservative advocacy, some couldn’t help but fall back on the call-out/shame cycle, admonishing for “not listening” to what the black community had long been saying.

While frustration is understandable, scolding someone you’ve been trying to reach for making real progress—no matter how delayed—is ultimately self-defeating. What’s more important here: self-righteous point-scoring, or welcoming an ally from the other side to help work toward a now-common goal?

There is courage in admitting to beliefs which could be deemed a moral shortcoming. Making oneself vulnerable in order to become a better person is a harder choice than it ought to be. Making that choice an impossible one—by always greeting honest effort with hostility—guarantees an end to progress. There is also tremendous bravery in responding with compassion when, throughout life, you’ve been afforded none. Though it seems unfair that the bulk of effort to counter harm rests with the those who’ve borne the brunt of it, that’s what social justice activism is about: to persuade those who feel they have nothing to gain by challenging an injustice, to see themselves in the cause, and join it.

You cannot force someone’s change of heart. But you can lead in a way that might entice one.

Source: How to win friends and influence some prejudiced people – Macleans.ca

Filed under Multiculturalism Tagged with ,

After Paris, we must tune out the hatred: Farber

2015/11/20 Leave a comment

Bernie Farber on the need for respectful and sensitive dialogue:

When it comes to these tragic and sensitive issues, there is a dire need for careful and meaningful “dialogue.” We need to create safe spaces for people from different communities and with perspectives to come together, mourn together, learn together, and act together. This cannot be superficial; it needs to be more than holding hands and playing nice. This is complex and long-term work. It does not require that we abandon our beliefs and values, but we do need to move outside of our respective comfort zones.

There will always be people who have no interest in peaceful dialogue, preferring instead to cower behind their computers waiting for the next opportunity to spew their caws of hatred. Dealing with these people can feel like playing a game of “whack-a-mole,” as they duck down and re-emerge from time to time.

The best use of our energies is to drown out these voices by creating platforms for people, communities and organizations who are interested in constructive rather than destructive dialogue. As we have seen, these positive voices are already out there. We just need more opportunities to hear them, and the discipline to tune out everyone else.

Source: After Paris, we must tune out the hatred | Toronto Star

Filed under Multiculturalism Tagged with , ,