A Palestinian calls for engagement:

In divided Mideast, friendship can grow

Tuesday, 05 June 2006

"Today marks the 39th anniversary of the Six-Day War," begins Palestinian Saliba Sarsar ( Sarsar@monmouth.edu ).
     His life and thought were deeply affected by that violence.
"Like other wars, it was a terrible mistake," he laments.

The cure and preventive Saliba recommends is building close, respectful human relationships -- not withdrawing or doing "what's popular."
     People across borders, he learned, ". . .must constantly fight the urge to revert to what is basic, certain, immediate and socially acceptable."

Saliba remembers his youth in the Old City of Jerusalem, whose walls hold the stories of his ancestors.
     His post-1967 memories reveal the "how-to" and importance of creating human contact between Arabs and Jews.
     He and his Jewish neighbors "constructed meaning and made order of the world around" around them.

Saliba says about those fellow Semites: "While recognizing divergent claims and practices of both national communities, as friends our emphasis remained on the dignity of difference and our responsibility to see beyond ourselves, to repair the world.
     "Out of war, a real friendship between 'enemies' was born. It has survived the Palestinian-Israeli tragedy, and is stronger amid the impasse, injustice and violence."

     He concludes: "What Israel and I have learned over the years is that the basis of friendship lies not in monologue but dialogue. . . knowing others in their own uniqueness and not simply as an extension of one's experience."
"Friendships," says the Palestinian husband, father and educator, "ought not to dictate but to liberate. . .not to take for granted but to take into consideration. . . to stand for life and wholeness, not ill and separation."

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 Published in The Philadelphia Inquirer -- Monday, 05 June 2006
On the Web at http://www.philly.com/mld/inquirer/news/editorial/14741637.htm

In divided Mideast, friendship can grow

Saliba Sarsar is professor of political science and associate vice president for academic program initiatives at Monmouth University.

     Today marks the 39th anniversary of the Six-Day War. Like other wars, it was a terrible mistake: Palestinians and Israelis have yet to recover and learn from it.
     Its national and international ramifications aside, the war's impact on my life was felt deeply, first having to survive it and then meeting face to face with "the other" from across the border.
     A few weeks after the war, a Western-looking young man moved next door to my home in the Al-Thori (Palestinian) quarter of Jerusalem, an area close to the Jordanian-Israeli "no man's land" in place between 1948 and 1967. I was the only one there to help him carry his belongings: paintings, sculptures, tools, not much else. As an 11-year-old, I made nothing of assisting him. It was an act of courtesy, plain and simple. Soon thereafter, a female (later to become his wife) moved in with him.
     It took me a few days to realize that he was an Israeli Jew. The "enemy" from across the border was actually living next door. Although the border between Al-Thori and Abu Tor, its Jewish counterpart, was dismantled, and although East and West Jerusalem were reunited, I still recognized a border. Like others in the neighborhood, I greeted this man and we smiled but it was just an act. It was not really felt.
     My unspoken apprehension was not long-lived. Following weeks of passing each other on the road to the Old City, we stopped being mere faces. We became actual people with names. When I finally met Israel and Brigitte Hadany, something surpassing the border happened. In difference, we became very familiar. Perhaps it was our curiosity to know each other or each other's world. Perhaps it was falling in love with a representation of the "enemy" and wanting to overcome enmity.
     Yes, there were moments of doubt that have occasionally drawn me back to the border, especially when Israel had to attend to his annual military service. Is he in harm's way? Conversely, is he causing harm to others, mainly those on my side of the border? Nevertheless, I ultimately realized that his side and my side of the border were one and the same.
     The Hadanys and I constructed meaning and made order of the world around us. Our joys and hardships were shared, irrespective of all the suspicions, outright antagonism and challenges that separated Palestinians and Israelis.
     While recognizing divergent claims and practices of both national communities, as friends our emphasis remained on the dignity of difference and our responsibility to see beyond ourselves, to repair the world.
     Out of war, a real friendship between "enemies" was born. It has survived the Palestinian-Israeli tragedy, and is stronger amid the impasse, injustice and violence.
     Today, Israel is a renowned sculptor, environmental artist and landscape designer, having won national and international awards. My experiences along the border have led me to focus my learning, teaching and community activities on conflict resolution, reconciliation and peace building.
     Whenever Israel visits the United States, he stays with me and my family. Whenever I am in Jerusalem, I visit with him and his family.
     What Israel and I have learned over the years is that the basis of friendship lies not in monologue but dialogue. It rests on knowing others in their own uniqueness and not simply as an extension of one's experience. Friendships ought not to dictate but to liberate. They ought not to take for granted but to take into consideration. They ought to stand for life and wholeness, not ill and separation.
     What we have also learned is that people from across borders must constantly fight the urge to revert to what is basic, certain, immediate and socially acceptable. This is particularly applicable when one's life is in danger, one's socioeconomic and financial well-being is in jeopardy, or one's reputation is on the line.
     In order to live peace, therefore, people must be willing to take risks for peace.
     If political leaders on both sides of the Palestinian-Israeli divide cannot afford to become friends, they must, at a minimum, shun aggression and become seriously engaged in peacemaking. This can be done by recognizing and respecting each other and by negotiating meaningful agreements that will bring a better tomorrow for their children and grandchildren. Doing otherwise is irresponsible, shortsighted and sinful.

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Contact Saliba Sarsar at Sarsar@monmouth.edu.