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NEWS & LETTERS, March 2002
Mass rally challenges Israeli occupation
Jerusalem—We knew there would
be a big turnout for the peace demonstration on Feb. 9 just from the deluge of
pro-peace ads in Ha'aretz the day before—page after page of statements and
petitions, all critical of the occupation. Some excerpts: - "There is a
choice!" An expanded new list of 200 combat officers and soldiers who
refuse to serve in the army of occupation. - "There's a limit!"
Support for the new soldiers, and the names of others who have consistently
refused to serve, placed by Yesh Gvul. - "Peres, you are a
collaborator in war-crimes!" placed by Gush Shalom. - "Do not say 'we did not
see, we did not know'— the price of keeping the territories"—placed by
the Israel Committee Against House Demolitions. And a huge, blood-red ad,
"The Occupation is Killing Us All", signed by the 28 organizations
that came together to hold last night's impressive rally in Tel-Aviv. This was the largest pro-peace
rally since this Intifada began in September 2000, with an estimated 10,000
participants—Jews and Arabs from all over Israel. Yehudit Harel's opening words
in fluent Hebrew and Arabic set the tone for the entire evening: We Israeli Jews
and Arabs together will no longer abide the crimes that the Israeli government
is carrying out: "There is only one flag held aloft here today," said
Yehudit, "and it is the black flag of pain, mourning, death, bereavement,
and the immorality of war crimes that are being committed in our name." At her words, hundreds of black
flags were raised high by the crowd, symbolizing the statement made years ago by
an Israeli court that if a military order has "a black flag of
immorality" hanging over it, the order must be refused. Young men who refused to serve
in the army of occupation were the heroes of the evening, receiving ovation
after ovation. "I once disagreed with refusal to serve in the army,"
said Uri Avnery to the crowd, "but today I salute those who will not serve.
Refusal is the beginning of the end of the occupation." Some of these brave
young men have been stripped of their command, demoted, and face court martial,
but continue to answer to their conscience. "How can we serve in an
army that kills children?" asked Yishai Rosen-Zvi, an Orthodox tank corps
sergeant in the reserves, "How can we serve an army that demolishes homes,
does not allow the sick to get medical attention, seeks to humiliate an entire
population, and reduces them to hunger and poverty?" Between speakers and sometimes
during them, the crowd broke into chanting of familiar slogans: "Fuad, Fuad,
Minister of Defense, How many kids did you kill today?" "Occupation,
No! Peace, Yes!", "Money for the poor, not for settlers!" It was a rally in which the
stage was shared by Arabs and Jews, women and men, Mizrahim and Ashkenazim,
young and old, religious and secular. Distinguished elderly author Sammy Michael
pointed out the futility of the ongoing occupation: "Death is not a threat
to people who willingly give their lives for a cause." And Shulamit Aloni, former
government minister and perennial conscience of Israel, called out her message
of hope: "All of you here today are the harbingers of a mass movement that
already has begun. You will be the teachers of democracy to this government. You
will set an example of morality. We shall clean out the crimes of this country
and fill it with peace!" There were many moments that
brought tears to my eyes last night. I will tell you of two: Famed singer
Ahinoam Nini (known as "Noa", I believe, to her American fans) took
the risk of alienating her Israeli right-wing fans, and sang to the crowd a
Hebrew, Arabic, and English version of "Imagine" by John Lennon:
"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one; I hope someday you'll
join us, and the world will be as one." And the other was the
transformation of a beloved Zionist song "Ein li eretz aheret."
Reciting this song in two languages, Hebrew and Arabic, suddenly infused it with
new meaning: "I have no other country to go to. And even if the land is
burning under my feet, this is my home." For the Arabs in the crowd, the
song suddenly became theirs, too, and for the Jews, it meant a land we both love
deeply. I hope someday you'll join us,
and the world will be as one. —Gila Svirsky |
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