Speech give by Natalia Sendawy 22 October 2024 at the beginning of the Solidarity Walk

 

“I would like to start off by saying thank you all for being here today to stand in solidarity with oppressed people around the world. This walk isn’t just about raising awareness but it is a statement of unity in fighting for peace, justice, and the fundamental human rights everyone deserves.

For those of you who do not know me, my name is Natalia and I am half Polish and half Palestinian. As I stand here, I feel a deep, personal connection to this cause. I have family in Gaza, where the people endure a daily reality of siege, occupation, and oppression, yet remain deeply connected to their land and their history. A powerful symbol of this connection is the olive tree.

For Palestinians, the olive tree is more than a source of livelihood; it represents peace, permanence, resistance, and the deep roots that  hold us to our land, even in the face of oppression. These trees have stood for generations, weathering storms, droughts, and conflict, just like the people of Gaza. To me, they remind us of our duty to stay rooted in our values of justice and solidarity.

We are here not just for Palestine, but for all oppressed communities—because their struggles are intertwined just like the roots of an olive tree. Our solidarity makes us more resilient, more hopeful as standing together means we cannot be uprooted.

So as we walk today, let’s remember the olive trees—symbols of peace, hope, and resilience. Let’s carry with us the stories of those who are oppressed, those whose voices need to be amplified. And let’s walk with hope and dignity, knowing that our steps are a part of the journey toward justice.”

I wrote and published this ten years ago, and I am chilled and saddened to re-read it in light of the past year.

September 9, 2014

America must midwife an independent Palestine

 
Enough is enough. The United States in 1948 helped create one state. It is far past time for the most powerful democracy in the world to create another.
 
We hear ad naseum that the Palestinian-Israeli conflict is a difficult and complicated situation. Please, just stop with the dodge. To invoke journalist Edward R. Murrow, “Difficulty is the excuse history never accepts.” History does, however, judge the actions people take when directed not by passion but rather by intelligence and sound logic.
 
At the same time, history also tells us that when two peoples are locked in battle, emotion always trumps reason and violence festers until one side is vanquished. Though the Egyptians recently have done tremendous work in brokering short-term ceasefires from the latest conflict in Gaza, the longer-term solution must respect this fact of human nature. 

Both the Israelis and the Palestinians believe there can be no winner until the other is eliminated.  For the Israelis, this means the continued expansion of settlements in Palestinian land until what remains is a virtual prison filled only with the compliant. For the Palestinians, if history is our guide, nothing short of an internationally recognized state, something the Israelis have enjoyed since 1948, will bring possible closure.

Rhetoric from Hamas calling for an end to Israel is emotionally driven by this existential threat. Once a Palestinian state is in place, such an extreme position will quickly lose purchase.

No one born and living in either of these locations knows anything other than war, struggle, fear and suspicion regarding the other. The cultural pallets of both Palestine and Israel are full of blood, which will not change from within.

The time has come for the United States to act.

America must convince Israel to accept not only a two-state solution but to allow the creation of an internationally controlled city-state of Jerusalem that is open to all.  This is in our interest for many reasons, not the least of which is the so-called “Palestinian effect.”

Radical anti-Americanism among many jihadists is fueled by our seeming unconditional support of Israel, with the most disturbing news of late being that our government has simultaneously condemned and materially supported the Israeli military efforts in Gaza.

Not to be understated is the fact that with its 500 nuclear warheads Israel represents a menace to most Arab nations. To assume this doesn’t influence Middle Eastern attitudes about Israel is astoundingly stupid and distressingly common.

President Barack Obama and our elected leaders in Congress must abandon failed policies toward Palestine and Israel. The United States should instead work with the international community through the United Nations to create that Palestinian state.

“Israel will never agree,” some will argue, and they are right.  Nor, of course, will some die-hards in Hamas. That is why the international community, led by the United States, must intervene using the “responsibility to protect” approach that the UN Security Council and the United States agree to in principle and one that has firm basis in international law.

This is not an easy or immediately popular solution but one that reflects, in the end, the best of our nature. To do so is not anti-Israel but rather pro-humanity. That some will ascribe an “anti-Israel” motive to UN and American involvement, without first reflecting on and de-emotionalizing their own assumptions, is sad if not unsurprising.

Such an approach, however, gives the United States an opportunity to act in a wise manner and in a way that future historians will cite as an example of democratic principles transcending our darker human tendencies.

*****

 

A blast from the past
I recently came across this address I delivered in Sri Lanka 14 years ago, long before I imagined critical Hydra theory. The optimism and faith in human agency I exhibit in this essay are for affect; in reality my faith in humanity is weak, especially given the genocides occurring in Gaza and Myanmar -and elsewhere. Are we a failed species? Only time will tell, but we seem incapable of tamping down gluttony and greed and these sins will surely lead us to a environmental future incompatible with human life.

The Leaders in Environmental Advocacy Forum (LEAF) event was an academic summit on global environmental issues co-organized by the Periclean Scholars class of 2011 at Elon University and faculty at the University of Colombo.

My comments touch on environmental issues, policy changes, the failings of capitalism/neoliberalism, and the hope of human action to make fundamental change.

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Address at opening ceremony for LEAF event
22 January 2010
KG Hall, University of Colombo
Colombo, Sri Lanka

Distinguished guests, Ambassador Buteni, Vice Chancellor Hirimburegama, colleagues, friends, it is my deep honor to share the platform with you this morning.  To all who gather today to formally begin this event, I say welcome.  I bring best wishes from Elon University and our President, Dr. Leo M. Lambert.  I humbly accept the privilege of representing Elon University and more specifically the Periclean Scholars program at this important event.

First, I wish to thank all of the various sponsors that have made this event possible. The US Embassy staff has been extraordinarily supportive and helpful during the entire planning phase for LEAF, and for that we all owe a great debt.  I especially wish to thank the University of Colombo for their hospitality and the use of this wonderful venue.  With great pleasure I want to thank the Periclean Scholars Class of 2011 and their Mentor Dr. Crista Arangala for having the vision and passion necessary to make this event happen. It has been an honor to work with this group.

Finally, I wish to thank all of the speakers who have filled out our packed program and that we will hear from shortly. These esteemed leaders who will be sharing their insights with us represent a veritable “who’s who” of environmental academics and activists in Sri Lanka, and we are proud and grateful to have you here today. We await your wisdom and guidance.

Elon University and Sri Lanka have something in common.  Our university mascot is the Phoenix, the mythical bird that rose from the ashes to live again.  Indeed, in 1923 our campus suffered a catastrophic fire and then was swiftly rebuilt.  Sri Lanka is now recovering from two infinitely larger and more devastating crises:  a protracted civil war and the 2004 tsunami.  In Sri Lanka’s case, the rebirth after these crises provides opportunity for rebuilding with a renewed sense of global and environmental awareness.

I have three interrelated thoughts I want to share with you this morning. First, I wish to talk about the concept of what it means to be a global citizen. Secondly, I will review what I believe to be one of the major themes of this event, namely the tension between the need for environmental stewardship on one hand and economic development on the other. Finally, I wish to share with you a dream I have for this event. What I will not do, as we would say in the United States, is “preach to the choir.”  All assembled here today are keenly aware of the many dimensions of the environmental crisis from climate change and pollution of our air, land and water, to the precarious drop in biodiversity evidenced by increasingly common extinctions of both flora and fauna species.  The experts who have come together for this event will, in these two days, probe deeply into these problems and we will all be further educated.

One responsibility we all bear by being blessed with the opportunity to attend this event is to pass on the various knowledge that our fine speakers will share. Light up the Internet with Tweets, Facebook status updates, YouTube videos, blogs posts and even a good old-fashioned email or two about whatever ignites you.

A friend from Kenya once told me that he “was just trying to put out the fire closest to him” at the time.  I live my day to day life like that, and I suspect that many of you do as well: we all tend to have many priorities in life, but we must take the time to put out the closest, most immediate fire or we risk being burned.

As we look out on the world stage today we see many fires:  contentious and violent elections in Haiti and the Sudan, wars in Afghanistan and Tunisia, the constant threat of al Qaeda, a political crisis in Lebanon, and potential for civil war in Cote d’Ivoire.  As global citizens we feel pulled to react to close fires, these humanitarian crises, both the human-made and those acts of nature like the tsunami of 2004.  There seems to be an endless series of fire to put out.  And here is the rub, one highlighted by many environmental activists using the parable of the frog put into cold water that is slowly heated up, the frog not noticing until it is too late to escape.  The critical global environmental crisis we face, unfortunately, never seems to be the closest fire needing to be put out.   This must change, and we, as informed global citizens, must lead the way.

So, what does it mean to be a global citizen and what can a global citizen do to press the issue of our environmental crisis?

Here is my modest attempt to define “global citizen”:

Global citizens understand at a fundamental level that all humans are born with basic rights, share one planet and thus one fate.  Global citizens, further, embrace an ideology of human growth and potential based upon the assumption that all global citizens should work toward creating a global social structure wherein all humans are not only allowed to reach their full potentials –intellectual, physical and spiritual- but are actively encouraged to do so. But, that this fulfilling of human potential is done in such a way as to honor the fact that humans are only one species among many, and that we must live in sustainable harmony with all life forms on the planet.  Further, global citizens understand that while they are entitled to certain rights, this role also entails an array of important responsibilities.[1]

A global citizen is ever mindful that environmental issues are almost always justice issues: it is the marginalized here in Sri Lanka, in the savannahs of Africa, and elsewhere around the world, that feel the most immediate brunt of climate change.  We in this room who have great privilege bear great responsibility to work with all of our energies both for and with our brothers and sisters who are less fortunate.

Underlying this definition of the global citizen is the assumption that human agency exists –we have and exercise free will- and that history unfolds not despite but rather because of individual human action.  This is a key point later in my comments.

One important job we all share as global citizens is to be an active part of the political process. My comments now turn to the intersection between politics and economics and how these both relate to development issues and the environment.

The zoologist Theodosius Dobzhansky famously stated “nothing makes sense in biology except in the light of evolution”.[2]   As I sociologist I will offer a similar assertion, namely “nothing makes sense in global society except in the light of capitalism.”  Allow me to elaborate.

Led in the 1980’s by Margaret Thatcher in the United Kingdom and Ronald Reagan in the United States, the major Western economies of the world were driven by the ideals of small government and unrestrained markets toward the policies of privatization, deregulation and an absolute trust in the “free hand of the market”. Western political leaders then and to a large extent now appear content to allow the blind machine of capitalism to move history forward.

I contend that capitalism, left to its own devices and without mindful control by thinking, feeling leaders and average citizens, will result in the blind, mindless ruin of our planet.  The algorithm of capitalism tends toward a myopic search for immediate profit and discourages a “long view.”  To the point, environmental regulation is rarely if ever the idea of industry; it must be imposed upon most corporations by governments.

It is very simple:  the raison d’être of all corporations is to maximize profit in the short term.  Throughout human history the raison d’être of democratic governments has been the maximization of human welfare.  The problem is not governments that are too big, but rather governments that are not aggressively monitored and guided by the citizenry.  This is why nurturing the development of responsible, informed and proactive national and global citizens is so vitally important.

Privatization and neoliberalism -the term used by many progressives in Latin America- lead us in the wrong direction, away from human agency and toward a world controlled by an amoral -and hence, I would argue, immoral- invisible hand.

But let me be clear:  Both social and economic entrepreneurial initiatives –exemplars of human agency- must be encouraged and nurtured, of course, but we all need to be vigilant citizens who look after the long term consequences of our economic growth in a way that simply does not come natural to an unfettered, un- or under- regulated private corporate world.

As stated a few minutes ago, one important question to be addressed in the next two days at this event is the tension between the need for environmental stewardship on one hand and economic development on the other.  This tension is not unique to Sri Lanka, of course.  Indeed, the entire global community is facing the exact same problem.  Sri Lanka is a microcosm of the rest of the world in this regard, and what we accomplish in the next few days is important.  I suggest that we collectively and individually seize this moment to explore the possibility of providing to the rest of the world a model for how to proceed regarding this tension. The next steps we take following the closing session of LEAF are critical, and we must all commit to specific short and long-term goals generated by what we have learned at this conference.

I will conclude my remarks by stepping down from the more general and theoretical observations I have made.  Please allow me to share a very specific dream I have about a possible outcome of this LEAF event.

I dream that as a direct result of this event efforts are put in motion ensuring that Sri Lanka become the first nation to write into law that all companies put environmental sustainability into the language of their articles of incorporation and mission statements.   And further that both company and national bylaws and regulations make these commitments not only legally enforceable but absolutely transparent as well.  What I propose reflects what is known as the “triple bottom line”, those bottom lines being human welfare, environmental sustainability, and profit accounting for all measureable externality costs.  This is possible.  There are many corporations leading the way around the world already using the triple bottom line model while staying competitive in the global market.

I pledge to work with the Periclean Scholars at Elon University to work toward similar legislation in the United States, and to encourage others to work toward that goal as well.

To make this dream possible there will be a great need for committed and informed global citizens as I defined above, both within Sri Lanka and the rest of the world.  We must all work together and have our actions match the realities we face.  The words of the famous health rights activist Dr. Paul Farmer take on special meaning:  “Humanity is the only true nation.”

As a brief side note, I find it both interesting and highly instructive that one of the revelations that came to light though the recent Wiki leaks is the fact that the Dali Lama himself urged the United States to pressure Beijing to make climate change a higher priority than Tibetan political autonomy. We are all one nation, and it is appropriate and predictable that a Buddhist would make that point most clearly.

By celebrating and emphasizing human agency we can take control over the process of capitalism and redirect the economic system toward a more sensible path, one where the pressures for economic development do not clash with environmental stewardship.  This redirection is no small feat, but it can and must happen.  It will need the full buy in of those in political power, but this buy in must be demanded by all of us:  faculty, students, governmental officials, the media, religious leaders, business leaders and the average Sri Lankan and American.

Let us take the opportunity we have together now to move forward on the aggressive dream of demanding policy changes for business incorporating the ideals of the triple bottom line, or other dreams even more audacious.  The time to take control over our collective future is now, and those in this room are uniquely positioned to turn dreams into reality.

Thank you for allowing me these few minutes.  Let us begin our work. Those in the next generations will thank us.

[1] This definition appears in Understanding the Global Experience, 2010 (Arcaro and Haskell, eds) on page 4.
[2] Biology, Molecular and Organismic Author(s): Theodosius Dobzhansky Source: American Zoologist, Vol. 4, No. 4, (Nov., 1964), pp. 443-452

 

Note
Natalia is a rising junior majoring in biology at Elon University. Her story is unique and compelling, bringing together both the Nakba and the Holocaust. [Arabic version below added 30 May]

My Palestinian/Polish Story

by Natalia S.

 

We all have parents
Like most, I am fortunate enough to have two parents and two sets of grandparents. Mine came from different parts of the world, two worlds that were both torn apart by violence and oppression. My mom originates from Poland, specifically from Lezajsk. My dad was born into occupation and raised in Gaza. Below I share a few stories regarding the tragedies of the Holocaust and the Nakba, narratives which are part of my family’s history.

Growing up Polish and Palestinian
Growing up, when asked about my ethnicity, I would proudly say I am Polish and Palestinian. However, I was often met with puzzled looks; few knew where Palestine was. I resorted to referring to myself as European and Middle Eastern. Following October 7th, the world’s awareness shifted, a spotlight focused on Palestine. This newfound recognition brings a mix of relief and sorrow, as the stories of Gaza, long overlooked, are finally being acknowledged.

With Polish and Palestinian roots, I’ve always carried a deep connection to my ancestry, along with the weight of its traumas. My Polish heritage is marked by the heartbreaking history of war and displacement, where generations before me faced unimaginable hardships and loss during World War II. The scars of occupation, suffering, and the relentless struggle for survival against the Nazis have left an undeniable mark.

On the other hand, my Palestinian heritage ties me to Gaza. The stories passed down through my family tell of a homeland besieged, lives uprooted, and a relentless fight for identity and freedom. The pain of displacement and the longing for peace are ever-present in the narratives shared by my relatives on both sides.

This dual heritage has instilled in me a profound understanding of and appreciation for resilience and perseverance. Yet, it also brings a unique form of ancestral trauma—an inherited sense of loss and struggle. The historical wounds of Poland and Gaza, though distinct, resonate within me, influencing my identity and my perspective on the world.

My mother’s side
My mom, from Poland, carries the memories of her grandparents who endured the horrors of the Holocaust. My great-grandparents lived in constant fear, hiding Jews within the very walls of their homes. They had a cellar in their basement originally used for storing barrels of pickles and cabbage, but during the Holocaust, it became a hiding place for Jewish families. They concealed them under layers of cabbage and pickles, knowing the Nazis would come in with pitchforks and sharp objects, stabbing at the hay to find hidden families. The Nazis would knock down barrels, aware these were common hiding spots, and if they found anyone, they would kill both the hidden Jewish family and the family attempting to protect them. Fortunately, my family had a second, more hidden cellar beneath the main one. A small trap door on the ground led to this hidden space, which they covered with barrels. Here, they hid Jewish families within more barrels under the second cellar beneath the trap door.

Additionally, my grandpa’s family housed a young German soldier who was stationed there. He often cried, saying he didn’t want to be there or partake in the atrocities. Resources were scarce; my grandpa’s family were short of food and supplies. The danger was always imminent. The Nazis burned down houses and slaughtered families if they discovered Jews were being hidden there. In my grandpa’s town, about 70 people were taken to the forest, forced to dig their own graves, and murdered at the hands of the Nazis.

This period of intense fear and distress left a lasting mark on my family’s history, a testament to their courage and the devastating circumstances they survived. The trauma of these experiences didn’t fade with time. My great-grandparents lived with the constant anxiety of being discovered. The psychological toll was immense; the stress and fear imprinted in their minds, which in turn affected how they raised their children and interacted with the world. My grandparents, growing up in this environment, inherited a profound sense of vigilance and caution. These lessons, born out of necessity for survival, were passed down to my mother, who grew up hearing stories of bravery, protecting your neighbor, and acknowledging the equality of all people.

The weight of these memories influenced our family dynamics. The stories of survival were a source of pride, yet they also carried the heavy burden of trauma and gratitude shadowed by the pain of the past. Understanding the depths of this ancestral trauma has given me a profound appreciation for my heritage. It has also instilled in me a sense of responsibility to honor their sacrifices and remember the lessons of resilience and compassion that have been passed down through generations.

My father’s side
My father’s family, originally from Haifa (in what is now Israel), endured the brutal realities of the Nakba. Forced from their homes in 1948, they were promised safety but met only with displacement and despair. My grandfather witnessed the deceit of the British, who claimed to rebuild hospitals and schools but instead facilitated the establishment of Israeli settlements that tore apart Palestinian communities. Massacres and atrocities stained the land as innocent lives were lost: thousands of Palestinians were buried alive in mass graves, pregnant women had their stomachs torn open, murdering them and their unborn child.

One of the lives lost was my great-grandfather. At the time, my grandma was just born. Growing up, she would share this story with my father talking about how she wished she knew her father. During the Nakba, Israeli forces took my great-grandfather to the middle of the ocean, tied two rocks to his head and threw his body into the water. He was targeted and killed because he was an Imam, a religious leader in Islam. He delivered a speech advocating for unity amongst Palestinians and resisting the occupation. Targeting a religious figure is a war crime, which highlights the severity and unlawfulness of the murder of my great grandfather. His influential position made his message significant, but it did not protect him from being targeted by the Israeli forces. His martyred body was discovered a week later, leaving my grandmother to grow up never knowing her father.

But the suffering didn’t end there. My own father, born and raised in Gaza, faced persecution from a young age. He was detained for the first time as a 12 year old boy, held in a camp called Alsarya for weeks and then finally released. He was detained for the second time at 15 or 16 years old, held in a detention camp again and endured beatings and torture simply for existing under occupation. The last time my father was detained was when he was 22 or 23 years old. He was crossing the street when Israeli forces called him over and started to tease and interrogate him then detaining him. Sixteen Israeli soldiers surrounded him in a circle and held him to the ground. They held a machine gun to his head, threatening to kill him. They tortured him mentally shouting “1, 2, 3, Shoot!”. All 16 soldiers took turns stepping on his fingers with their steel boots. His fingers were crushed, his nails ripped off, his bones peaking through his flesh, his hand mutilated by soldiers whose brutality knew no bounds to the extent where he no longer has fingerprints on that hand. They told him they knew his first and last name as well as where he and his family live and they were going to kill everyone if he didnt leave Gaza and if they saw him again they would kill him. So, he fled to America. And yet, even after fleeing to America, the scars of his trauma remain. Even after all these years he is still paranoid that the Mossad are going to find him; terrified even to this day to call his family back home, worried that he will expose where his family is currently sheltering in Gaza and that Israeli forces will target them.

Uncles on my father’s side
My uncles share similar stories of oppression. One, beaten and humiliated for breaking curfew, another left with lifelong injuries. At the young age of 11 or 12 years old, my uncle was walking back home from school. Israeli forces would sit at the top of large buildings, observing the area and writing reports. One day the Israeli forces decided to throw bricks from these tall buildings at people. One of the bricks struck my uncle in the head. He was taken to a hospital in Gaza where he suffered from retinal detachment and was blinded in that eye. The hospital in Gaza did not have the facilities to handle this type of injury, so he was told to go to a hospital in either Jerusalem or Egypt. In Gaza and the West Bank there are checkpoints and you are not allowed to cross them without permission from the Israeli government. My uncle had to wait 27 days to eventually get a permit to travel to Jerusalem, which was then still Palestine, for his surgery. They only allowed him to stay for a few days, but the surgery was much more complicated than expected and he needed to get 2 surgeries done. He overstayed his permit, so the hospital gave him a note to give to the Israeli forces explaining why he had overstayed his permit, but the border guards did not care. The Israeli forces crumbled the note, threw it in his face and detained him. They held him for hours, questioning and interrogating him. He was eventually released. Unfortunately the surgeries did not work, so my dad, in America at the time, tried to bring him to America to get more advanced medical care. It took 4 years for my uncle to eventually be allowed to leave Gaza. By the time he came to America it was too late, his vision was forever impaired by the cruelty of those who denied him proper medical care and saw him as less than human.

Happening now
These stories, though deeply personal, are not isolated incidents. They reflect the systemic oppression that has prevailed in Palestine for generations. The injustices my family endured did not begin on October 7th; they are deeply embedded in our roots and history. And while the world may turn a blind eye, my family still suffers. In mid to late October our family home in Gaza, a five-story building, was flattened, leaving loved ones homeless. My extended family members sought safety in Al Ma’amdani Hospital which was bombed later in October by Israeli forces with a US funded F-16 fighter, claiming the life of 500 Palestinians in a fraction of a second, several cousins among those murdered.

As I share these stories, I am reminded that the struggles of my family are not unique. They echo the cries of countless others who continue to suffer under occupation and oppression. We cannot forget the past, nor can we ignore the present. We must stand together, united in our commitment to justice and peace, so that the pain of the past does not become the legacy of our future.

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Natalia wants to hear from you after you’ve read her story. You can contact her here.

 

Here is the post translated (GoogleTranslate) into Arabic.

ملحوظة
ناتاليا هي طالبة صاعدة تتخصص في علم الأحياء في جامعة إيلون. قصتها فريدة ومقنعة، وتجمع بين النكبة والمحرقة.

قصتي الفلسطينية/البولندية
بواسطة ناتاليا س.

لدينا جميعا آباء
مثل معظم الأشخاص، أنا محظوظ بما فيه الكفاية لأن لدي والدين ومجموعتين من الأجداد. لقد جئت من أجزاء مختلفة من العالم، عالمان مزقهما العنف والقمع. والدتي تنحدر من بولندا، وبالتحديد من ليزايسك. والدي ولد في الاحتلال ونشأ في غزة. أشارك أدناه بعض القصص المتعلقة بمآسي المحرقة والنكبة، وهي روايات تشكل جزءًا من تاريخ عائلتي.

نشأ البولندية والفلسطينية
عندما كبرت، عندما سُئلت عن انتمائي العرقي، كنت أقول بكل فخر أنني بولندي وفلسطيني. ومع ذلك، كنت أقابل في كثير من الأحيان بنظرات الحيرة؛ قليلون هم الذين يعرفون أين تقع فلسطين. لجأت إلى الإشارة إلى نفسي على أنني أوروبي وشرق أوسطي. بعد السابع من أكتوبر، تحول وعي العالم، وركزت الأضواء على فلسطين. ويجلب هذا الاعتراف الجديد مزيجًا من الارتياح والحزن، حيث يتم الاعتراف أخيرًا بقصص غزة، التي تم التغاضي عنها منذ فترة طويلة.
بجذوري البولندية والفلسطينية، كنت أحمل دائمًا ارتباطًا عميقًا بأسلافي، إلى جانب ثقل الصدمات التي تعرضوا لها. يتسم تراثي البولندي بتاريخ الحرب والنزوح المفجع، حيث واجهت الأجيال التي سبقتني مصاعب وخسائر لا يمكن تصورها خلال الحرب العالمية الثانية. لقد تركت ندوب الاحتلال والمعاناة والنضال المتواصل من أجل البقاء ضد النازيين بصمة لا يمكن إنكارها.
ومن ناحية أخرى، فإن تراثي الفلسطيني يربطني بغزة. القصص التي تنتقل عبر عائلتي تحكي عن وطن محاصر، وحياة مشردة، وكفاح لا هوادة فيه من أجل الهوية والحرية. إن ألم النزوح والشوق إلى السلام حاضران دائمًا في الروايات التي يتقاسمها أقاربي من كلا الجانبين.
لقد غرس هذا التراث المزدوج في داخلي فهمًا عميقًا وتقديرًا للمرونة والمثابرة. ومع ذلك، فإنه يجلب أيضًا شكلاً فريدًا من أشكال صدمة الأجداد، وهو الشعور الموروث بالخسارة والنضال. إن الجراح التاريخية لبولندا وغزة، على الرغم من اختلافها، يتردد صداها في داخلي، مما يؤثر على هويتي ومنظوري للعالم.

جانب والدتي
تحمل أمي، من بولندا، ذكريات أجدادها الذين عانوا من أهوال المحرقة. لقد عاش أجدادي في خوف دائم، وكانوا يخفون اليهود داخل جدران منازلهم. كان لديهم قبو في الطابق السفلي من منزلهم يستخدم في الأصل لتخزين براميل المخللات والملفوف، ولكن خلال الهولوكوست، أصبح مخبأ للعائلات اليهودية. لقد أخفوها تحت طبقات من الملفوف والمخللات، مع العلم أن النازيين سيأتون بالمذراة والأدوات الحادة، ويطعنون القش للعثور على العائلات المخفية. كان النازيون يسقطون البراميل، مدركين أن هذه أماكن اختباء شائعة، وإذا عثروا على أي شخص، فسوف يقتلون كلاً من العائلة اليهودية المختبئة والعائلة التي تحاول حمايتهم. ولحسن الحظ، كان لدى عائلتي قبو آخر مخفي أسفل القبو الرئيسي. أدى باب مصيدة صغير على الأرض إلى هذه المساحة المخفية التي قاموا بتغطيتها بالبراميل. وهنا، قاموا بإخفاء العائلات اليهودية داخل المزيد من البراميل تحت القبو الثاني أسفل الباب المسحور.
بالإضافة إلى ذلك، قامت عائلة جدي بإيواء جندي ألماني شاب كان متمركزًا هناك. وكثيراً ما كان يبكي قائلاً إنه لا يريد أن يكون هناك أو يشارك في الفظائع. كانت الموارد شحيحة. كانت عائلة جدي تعاني من نقص الغذاء والإمدادات. وكان الخطر وشيكاً دائماً. قام النازيون بإحراق المنازل وذبح العائلات إذا اكتشفوا وجود يهود مختبئين هناك. في بلدة جدي، تم نقل حوالي 70 شخصًا إلى الغابة، وأجبروا على حفر قبورهم بأنفسهم، ثم قُتلوا على أيدي النازيين.
لقد تركت هذه الفترة من الخوف الشديد والضيق علامة دائمة على تاريخ عائلتي، وهي شهادة على شجاعتهم والظروف المدمرة التي نجوا منها. ولم تتلاشى صدمة هذه التجارب مع مرور الوقت. كان أجداد أجدادي يعيشون في قلق دائم من أن يتم اكتشافهم. وكانت الخسائر النفسية هائلة. التوتر والخوف المنطبع في أذهانهم، والذي بدوره أثر على كيفية تربيتهم لأطفالهم وتفاعلهم مع العالم. أجدادي، الذين نشأوا في هذه البيئة، ورثوا شعورا عميقا باليقظة والحذر. هذه الدروس، التي ولدت بسبب ضرورة البقاء، انتقلت إلى والدتي، التي نشأت وهي تسمع قصص الشجاعة، وحماية جارك، والاعتراف بالمساواة بين جميع الناس.
أثر وزن هذه الذكريات على ديناميكيات عائلتنا. كانت قصص البقاء على قيد الحياة مصدر فخر، لكنها تحمل أيضًا العبء الثقيل للصدمة والامتنان الذي يخيم عليه ألم الماضي. لقد منحني فهم أعماق صدمة الأجداد هذه تقديرًا عميقًا لتراثي. كما غرس في نفسي الشعور بالمسؤولية لتكريم تضحياتهم وتذكر دروس الصمود والتعاطف التي تناقلتها الأجيال.

جانب والدي
لقد عانت عائلة والدي، التي تنحدر في الأصل من حيفا (في ما يعرف الآن بإسرائيل)، من الوقائع الوحشية للنكبة. وقد أُجبروا على ترك منازلهم في عام 1948، ووُعدوا بالسلامة لكنهم لم يقابلوا إلا بالتشرد واليأس. لقد شهد جدي خداع البريطانيين، الذين زعموا أنهم أعادوا بناء المستشفيات والمدارس ولكنهم بدلا من ذلك سهّلوا إنشاء المستوطنات الإسرائيلية التي مزقت المجتمعات الفلسطينية. وقد لطخت المجازر والفظائع الأرض، حيث أزهقت أرواح بريئة: فقد دُفن آلاف الفلسطينيين أحياء في مقابر جماعية، وتمزقت بطون النساء الحوامل، مما أدى إلى مقتلهن وأطفالهن الذين لم يولدوا بعد.
أحد الأرواح التي فقدت كان جدي الأكبر. في ذلك الوقت، ولدت جدتي للتو. عندما كبرت، كانت تشارك هذه القصة مع والدي وتتحدث عن رغبتها في معرفة والدها. أثناء النكبة، أخذت القوات الإسرائيلية جدي الأكبر إلى وسط المحيط، وربطت صخرتين في رأسه وألقت جثته في الماء. تم اكتشاف جثته الشهيد بعد أسبوع، وتركت جدتي تكبر دون أن تعرف والدها.
لكن المعاناة لم تنتهي عند هذا الحد. والدي، الذي ولد ونشأ في غزة، واجه الاضطهاد منذ صغره. تم احتجازه لأول مرة عندما كان صبيًا يبلغ من العمر 12 عامًا، واحتُجز في معسكر يُدعى “السارية” لمدة أسابيع ثم أُطلق سراحه في النهاية. اعتقل للمرة الثانية عندما كان عمره 15 أو 16 عاما، واحتجز في معتقل مرة أخرى وتعرض للضرب والتعذيب لمجرد وجوده تحت الاحتلال. آخر مرة اعتقل فيها والدي كانت عندما كان عمره 22 أو 23 عامًا. كان يعبر الشارع عندما استدعته قوات الاحتلال وبدأت بمضايقته والتحقيق معه ثم قامت باعتقاله. أحاط به ستة عشر جنديًا إسرائيليًا بشكل دائري وأسقطوه أرضًا. ووجهوا سلاحا رشاشا إلى رأسه وهددوه بالقتل. قاموا بتعذيبه عقليًا وهم يصرخون “1، 2، 3، أطلق النار!”. وتناوب جميع الجنود الستة عشر على الدوس على أصابعه بأحذيتهم الفولاذية. تم سحق أصابعه، ونزع أظافره، وبرزت عظامه من خلال لحمه، وشوهت يده على يد جنود لم تعرف وحشيتهم حدودًا إلى حد أنه لم يعد لديه بصمات أصابع على تلك اليد. أخبروه أنهم يعرفون اسمه الأول والأخير وكذلك المكان الذي يعيش فيه هو وعائلته وأنهم سيقتلون الجميع إذا لم يغادر غزة وإذا رأوه مرة أخرى فسوف يقتلونه. وهكذا هرب إلى أمريكا. ومع ذلك، حتى بعد فراره إلى أمريكا، لا تزال ندوب الصدمة التي تعرض لها قائمة. وحتى بعد كل هذه السنوات، لا يزال يشعر بجنون العظمة من أن الموساد سيعثر عليه؛ وهو خائف حتى يومنا هذا من الاتصال بعائلته في المنزل، ويشعر بالقلق من أنه سيكشف المكان الذي تلجأ إليه عائلته حاليًا في غزة وأن القوات الإسرائيلية ستستهدفهم.

الأعمام من جهة والدي
أعمامي يتشاركون قصصًا مماثلة عن القمع. تعرض أحدهم للضرب والإذلال لخرقه حظر التجول، بينما أصيب آخر بجروح مدى الحياة. عندما كان عمري 11 أو 12 عامًا، كان عمي عائداً إلى المنزل من المدرسة. وتجلس القوات الإسرائيلية على أسطح المباني الكبيرة، وتراقب المنطقة وتكتب التقارير. وفي أحد الأيام قررت القوات الإسرائيلية إلقاء الطوب من هذه المباني الشاهقة على الناس. أصاب أحد الطوب عمي في رأسه. وتم نقله إلى أحد مستشفيات غزة حيث كان يعاني من انفصال الشبكية وأصيب بالعمى في تلك العين. ولم يكن لدى المستشفى في غزة المرافق اللازمة للتعامل مع هذا النوع من الإصابات، لذلك طُلب منه الذهاب إلى مستشفى في القدس أو مصر. توجد في غزة والضفة الغربية نقاط تفتيش ولا يُسمح لك بعبورها دون الحصول على إذن من الحكومة الإسرائيلية. اضطر عمي إلى الانتظار 27 يومًا للحصول على تصريح للسفر إلى القدس، التي كانت آنذاك فلسطين، لإجراء الجراحة. سمحوا له بالبقاء لبضعة أيام فقط، ولكن العملية الجراحية كانت أكثر تعقيدا بكثير مما كان متوقعا وكان بحاجة إلى إجراء عمليتين جراحيتين. لقد تجاوز مدة تصريحه، فأعطاه المستشفى مذكرة ليقدمها إلى القوات الإسرائيلية يشرح فيها سبب تجاوز مدة تصريحه، لكن حرس الحدود لم يهتموا. وقامت قوات الاحتلال بتفتيت الورقة وإلقاءها في وجهه واعتقاله. واحتجزوه لساعات واستجوبوه واستجوبوه. تم إطلاق سراحه في النهاية. لسوء الحظ لم تنجح العمليات الجراحية، فحاول والدي الذي كان متواجدًا في أمريكا في ذلك الوقت إحضاره إلى أمريكا للحصول على رعاية طبية أكثر تقدمًا. لقد استغرق الأمر 4 سنوات حتى سُمح لعمي بمغادرة غزة. وبحلول الوقت الذي جاء فيه إلى أمريكا، كان الوقت قد فات، وكانت بصره قد ضعفت إلى الأبد

يحدث الآن
ورغم أن هذه القصص شخصية للغاية، إلا أنها ليست حوادث معزولة. إنها تعكس القمع المنهجي الذي ساد في فلسطين منذ أجيال. إن الظلم الذي تعرضت له عائلتي لم يبدأ في السابع من أكتوبر؛ فهي متجذرة بعمق في جذورنا وتاريخنا. وبينما قد يغض العالم الطرف، فإن عائلتي لا تزال تعاني. وفي منتصف وأواخر أكتوبر/تشرين الأول، دُمر منزل عائلتنا في غزة، وهو مبنى مكون من خمسة طوابق، بالأرض، مما أدى إلى تشريد أحبائنا. لجأ أفراد عائلتي الممتدة إلى مستشفى الممداني الذي قصفته القوات الإسرائيلية في وقت لاحق من شهر أكتوبر/تشرين الأول بمقاتلة من طراز إف-16 مولتها الولايات المتحدة، مما أودى بحياة 500 فلسطيني في جزء من الثانية، وكان من بين القتلى العديد من أبناء عمومتهم.
عندما أشارك هذه القصص، أتذكر أن كفاح عائلتي ليس فريدًا. إنهم يرددون صرخات عدد لا يحصى من الآخرين الذين ما زالوا يعانون من الاحتلال والقمع. لا يمكننا أن ننسى الماضي، ولا يمكننا أن نتجاهل الحاضر. يجب أن نقف معًا، متحدين في التزامنا بالعدالة والسلام، حتى لا يصبح ألم الماضي إرثًا لمستقبلنا.

تريد ناتاليا أن تسمع منك بعد أن تقرأ قصتها. يمكنك الاتصال بها هنا.

[Note: this post was intended as an op-ed. Mohammad Azizul Hoque of the Centre for Peace and Justice in Dhaka, Bangladesh contributed to this essay. Hoque and his colleague Tasnuva Ahmad wrote an excellent article on this important five year anniversary.]

 

Five long years seeking justice

August 25, 2022 marks the five year anniversary of the Rohingya genocide. This ethnic and religious minority has spent five long years seeking justice.

The facts are both clear and stark. Five years ago the Rohingya people were  the victim of a genocide by the military junta controlling Myanmar. Beginning  August 25, 2017 nearly 800,000 Rohingya fled across the border into Bangladesh. Some 140,000 Rohingyas were internally displaced in the melee and herded into IDP camps, where they have remained ever since. Though the Rohingya diaspora nearly global in reach, most are  concentrated in Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, and  India, with the vast majority of these genocide victims now residing for the lkast five years in the largest refugee camp in the world in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh.

The Bangladeshi government, with support from the United Nations and the humanitarian sector, has hosted nearly one million Rohingya refugees for the last five years, an incredible hardship on a nation already burdened with economic, political, and climate related issues.

Another fact is that the International Court of Justice, the principal judicial organ of the United Nations, has ruled it has jurisdiction on the case of The Gambia v. Myanmar and already has provided preliminary statments and rulings indicating that indeed a genocide occurred. Most in the global community agree.

Currently in Myanmar we know that there is ongoing violence against both the Rohingya and other minorities. There has been a 18 month long struggle in Myanmar by grassroots organizations against the military junta. A broad alliance of people and organizations are seeking democracy and freedom from the brutal and bloody autocratic military rule.

Another fact is that this is not a simple situation. The geo-politics surrounding Myanmar are complex and involve major world powers including India, China, Japan, the United States, and Russia. The UN has struggled to navigate the complex and sometimes confrontational negotiations among the many stakeholders in the region, and progress is slow to non-existent..

We know that Myanmar is itself a victim of past colonial oppression and that like many postcolonial nations continues to suffer from a lack of true freedom for most who live there. We know that its military leaders appear more committed to themselves and to the wishes of external powers and governments than they have to their own people. We know that the government of Myanmar historically has been very keen to segregate and discriminate against various religious and ethnic minorities, none more so than the Rohingya people who had their right of citizenship stripped in 1982.

We also know that the United States has joined the growing chorus of nations who are condemning the government of Myanmar for its actions against the Rohingya and calling it exactly what it is: a genocide.

We know that various economic sanctions including, unilateral sanctions by various nations including the United States and multilateral sanctions orchestrated by such organizations as the UN, the EU, and ASEAN have had some but not sufficient impact on the political situation in Myanmar.

Critically, we also know that the vast majority of Rohingya simply want to be safely repatriated back to Myanmar. This is a goal shared by both the Rohingya people and the Bangladeshi government. Having a situation in Myanmar where the Rohingya could move back with full citizenship, with real and assured safety, and with full rights is a goal that the vast majority of Rohingya, Bangladeshis, and global citizens would agree to. The only group that seems to uniformly reject this goal is the current military government in Myanmar.  Progress has been glacial toward creating a political situation in Myanmar that would allow for appropriate repatriation.

We know that living as a refugee is absolutely not what anyone would wish to do. We also know that ignoring the situation, especially by those who have the luxury of power, is not an option.  We know that as Edmund Burke told us long ago “the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men [people] to do nothing.”

That said, what is there to do? If you are able to read these words you have the privilege of an education and most likely the privilege of having access to the email boxes of various political representatives both in your nation and internationally.  You can use your voice to join others in renouncing the government of Myanmar and encouraging deeper and more effective sanctions against the ruling military leadership in Myanmar. Our actions can make an impact.

There is a line between those who care and those who care enough to act. In this case we are talking about a genocide and the long-term impacts of that genocide on nearly 1 million Rohingya and, ultimately, making reparations to those who were victims of this genocide. And to send them home.

I hope that you care enough to act on behalf of or rather in partnership with the Rohingya people, the people of Bangladesh, and frankly all those globally who seek a world characterized by justice, freedom, and dignity for all.

Five years is a long time to live as a refugee, to have lives, careers, education, and hopes put on hold or severely restricted.

Five years seeking justice is too long. The global community -people like you and me- must respond.

 

 

“We can never construct the best world in which our compassion can immediately translate into an end of suffering, but we can try to build a second-best world based on hard-headed assessments of the needs and options.”

–Fiona Terry, Condemned to Repeat: The Paradox of Humanitarian Action, p. 216

“It is presumed that market solutions are always to be preferred, that governments and regulators are generally incompetent, and that great wealth reflects superior intelligence or insight, rather than having anything to do with entrenched privilege or power.”

-page 6

Reactions to Vale the Humanitarian Principles: New principles for a new environment

 

Overview and thoughts
Australian academics Matthew Clarke and Brett Parris recently published Working Paper 001 for the Centre for Humanitarian Leadership at Deakin University. They take us up to 35,000 feet and offer nothing less than what they immodestly call “new principles” to guide humanitarian work.

Thoughtful critiques of the sector, like Fiona Terry’s Condemned to Repeat, are always important reads.  See here for a very good 2004 essay by Beat Schweizer (“Moral dilemmas for humanitarianism in the era of “humanitarian” military interventions“) anticipating many of Clarke and Parris’s ideas. As I prepare to participate in ALNAP32 taking place soon in Berlin, Clarke and Parris’ observations provide useful grist for our ongoing conversations about ‘relevance’ in the humanitarian sector. Below are some of my thoughts as I read their essay.

The view from 248 miles up?
The humanitarian sector has come a long way in the last 20 years with increasing efforts at coordination and meaningful change in progressive directions. For example, there are now industry-wide standards (see CHS and Sphere) which inform and guide humanitarian responses. There can be hope that what Linda Polman describes in her 2010 book Crisis Carvan is, in fact, history that will not be repeated, certainly not now in 2019.

In reference to global humanitarian efforts, Clarke and Parris quote Hugo Slim saying, “At its best, it is a very practical affirmation of the value of human life and its unique character in each human person.” I agree with Slim that the humanitarian sector is in many ways the best of humanity. In other blog posts I have described the humanitarian sector as, collectively, the conscience of out collective consciousness.

However, my more critical response to Slim, on one level, is as flat no. While Clarke and Parris take us up to 35,000 feet, let’s examine what the situation looks like from the International Space Station, 248 miles above our Earth.

The roughly $30 million that was spent last year on all humanitarian aid is, in context, miniscule and indicates humanity’s lack of appropriate prioritization of human welfare. We spent as much on porn and Fortnight as we did on humanitarian aid last year. As measured by our spending patterns, humanity as a whole is quite frankly not very humane. Consumers in the US alone spent $9 billion dollars on Halloween this fall. In contrast, by unimaginable orders of magnitude more we are much more effective at waging war.  That the humanitarian sector does not demand more attention to this disparity is an abrogation of responsibility, a kowtowing to the lament that ‘we’re doing the best that we can do, and it is someone else’s problem to look at the bigger picture.’ That we, humanity, can do better is a given. Who should lead that charge if not the humanitarian sector?

Expanding view in terms of timeframe
Having expanded our vision by looking from a higher vantage point, beyond critiquing the priority given the sector, the next logical step of expanding our temporal scope must be taken. Basic questions emerge immediately, ranging from our pre-human past to the not-too-distant future, these include,

• How was the humanitarian imperative responded to both by individuals and by organizations (religious or otherwise) before 1959, Dunant, and the Red Cross?
• In what ways was the humanitarian imperative articulated in non-Western cultures both pre and post Solferino?
• To what extent is the humanitarian imperative a cultural universal, a trait of most human cultures from the earliest of our species existence?
• Moving beyond an anthropocentric perspective, how far back phylogenetically can we trace a sense of empathy being shown from one being to another?
• How has the humanitarian ecosystem evolved in the last century, and that what geopolitical and economic forces, historical events, and what inter-and intra-cultural changes have impacted this evolution?
• And, perhaps most importantly, how and to what degree can/should the humanitarian sector prioritize planning for a future that will almost certainly include many more (and more extreme) ‘natural’ disasters and the wide array of human conflict crises to follow same, and as well also including non-climate related geopolitical conflicts?

These questions move us toward many big questions related to formulating humanitarian principles, and these include ones about our basic nature.

Lessons from the Nataruk massacre
‘Othering’ is basic to our species; there has always been an ‘us’ and ‘them’.  There is evidence of violence between groups of hunting and gathering bands 10,000 years ago in Kenya that appear to have included “‘extreme blunt-force trauma to crania and cheekbones, broken hands, knees and ribs, arrow lesions to the neck, and stone projectile tips lodged in the skull and thorax of two men.’ Four of them, including a late-term pregnant woman, appear to have had their hands bound.”‘

Ethological evidence indicates that our closest relative, chimpanzees, are quite capable of attacking and killing rivals, providing support for the premise that inter-group enmity is woven into our basic nature. Our tendency to other is evidenced in every corner of the world all through human history.

Othering
Though the exact origin, at least for some, is unclear, many scholars agree the earliest use of the term ‘othering’ comes from Edward Said’s classic 1978 book Orientalism. This term is inclusive of the entire range of marginalizing ‘isms’ and phobias including (but not limited to) ethnocentrism, racism, fascism, sexism, homophobia, Islamophobia, and so on.

This quotation from an article comparing this book to George Orwells Burmese Days presents the concept and also anticipates some points I’ll cover below.

“Orientalism is closely related to the concept of the Self and the Other because as Said points out in his second definition of Orientalism, it makes a distinction between the Occident, i.e. self and the Orient, i.e. the Other, since the analysis of the relationship of the ‘self’ and the ‘other’ is at the heart of Postcolonialism and many define Postcolonialism in terms of the relationship of the self and the Other. For instance, Boehmer emphasizes that ‘Postcolonial theories swivel the conventional axis of interaction between the colonizer and colonized or the self and the Other’.”

Stated in the most basic of terms, othering can be stated as follows. From the perspective of A, if A is different from B it can be concluded that A is better than B. A can be different from B in many ways, and no matter what the variable, the dynamic is the same, with differentiation transitioning into stratification very easily, and especially so when this process has been modeled previously.

The most critical variables include various social statuses, most ascribed, i.e., assigned at birth and/or otherwise not chosen. These include (but are not limited to), you guessed it, gender, sexuality, race/ethnicity/tribe, religion, age, social class, and colonial status.

Key to mention here is that othering can be something done by one person to another person or group and/or from one group to another; unit of analysis matters as you get into the weeds describing and understanding othering. This dynamic, going from “difference” to “one is better than the other” is virtually inevitable when A is more powerful than B. To wit, gender differentiation has, in the vast majority of cultures, always degenerated into gender stratification.

All forms of marginalization are merely variations on this process. When there is a power imbalance the object of othering tends to be counteranthropomorphized -taking away human qualities-, dehumanized, and seen as ‘less then.’ The ‘othering’ marginalization process impacts all aspects of the culture such that this dehumanization becomes normalized, baked into every aspect of the culture. Fast forward to the present and we can make the observation that patriarchy, colonialism/paternalism, heteronormativity, classism/racism are integral features of our global culture, all having their justification based on the simple thought that if A does not equal B then A is greater than B, and that is A is stronger than B it can -and typically will- impose its will upon B.

Why othering persists:  the better and not so better angels of our nature
While humans can imagine perfect justice, we are quite capable of acting otherwise. Though few would openly disagree when offered the observation that “we are all God’s children”, their actions speak otherwise.  In US culture we see this clearly within the Evangelical movement which openly supports racism.  How does this duplicity happen?

In sociology we talk about ‘ideal culture’ and ‘real culture.’  Ideal culture reflects the better angels of our nature. It is seen in our formal documents and more progressive laws. In the US the Constitution and Bill of Rights are such documents. Internationally the Universal Declaration of Human Rights represents such lofty ideals.

The rhetoric of our ideal culture statements are driven, in Freudian terms, by our superego, our conscience.  These are the internalized and culturally accepted values which our religions, teachers, parents, and coaches have imparted on us and represent the positive, cohesive bonds and maintain relative social order.

By contrast, our behavior, that is ‘real culture’, is driven by a more buried, primal part of our brain and is guided by fear, mistrust, and selfish motivations.  Herein lies the core source of othering.

When Martin Luther King, Jr tells us, “We shall overcome because the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” he is saying that our institutions collectively are slowly getting more progressive, and that some time in the future we will have a more just world. His assumption that the better angels of our nature -our ability to produce ‘ideal culture’ laws and structures- will eventually prevail, may be too optimistic. As we watch a world increasingly fueled by toxic nationalism and even outright fascism, the real culture of our othering tendencies seems to be winning this moral tug of war.  Calling on Kenneth Burke’s poem “Dialectician’s Prayer” we have to be sober to the fact that ‘how things are, and how we say things are, are not one.’

When some forms of othering are institutionalized and even celebrated this can lead to an acceptance of othering in other realms. I am thinking here of the ‘national pride’ that is celebrated at the Olympics internationally and here in the US where, in my personal case, it is OK to talk trash about Michigan if you are an Ohio State fan like myself.

Brown on brown on brown
Examples of othering -manifesting itself in many ways up to and including genocide- are depressingly easy to find as one scans the globe.  Many of these examples include intertribal (and even intratribal)  (add FB conversations)

 

Othering and being othered
Let’s take a list of ascribed statuses and rank order them in terms of the tendency to other or be orthered exists.

The higher the status, the less likely to be othered, the lower the status, the more likely.  here we need to mention interscectionality

 

 

 

 

Additional points to make:

• the humanitarian ecosystem is not a monolithic whole and analytically should not be treated as such; my recommendation is that each region of the world be seen and treated as appropriate to the cultural context
• I will be laying out the main points of the Clarke and Parris article in more detail, with a special focus on how othering has been perpetuated by neoliberalism
• burning house example
• brown on brown on brown; racism in its various forms has always been with us

 

 

 

 

 

Insights from sociologist Georg Simmel

 

 

 

They posit that the humanitarian landscape is changing.  The model presented by Henri Dunant in 1859

Old = humanity, impartiality, neutrality, independence

New = equity, solidarity, compassion, diversity

 

Critiques of the ‘old’

Jihad vs McWorld