Crushing Hope
Archived from May 10, 2024:
"If you're not quite sure if you're on the right or wrong side of the line, find the nearest line of policemen and see which way they're facing." - Bernadette Devlin
There is a certain horror encroaching on my soul as of late. I try to only get my news in small bursts, from people and journalists I trust but in the middle of an ongoing genocide and the absolutely disgusting narratives surrounding it, a small dose is a lot, even for someone with a tolerance for the grim like me. Videos of children screaming for parents they will never see again while the US president, who is older than the state of Israel, gives speeches about how the Palestinian cause is an “ancient desire” to eliminate Jewish people.
This is not going to be an explanation or negotiation about how anti-Zionism is not antisemitism. If that is something you believe, I suggest look into Jewish Voices for Peace, I suggest you turn to the Israeli people holding massive protests in Tel Aviv for a ceasefire that Netanyahu has once again turned down, I suggest you ask yourself why students are being joined by the heads of History and Jewish Studies. I suggest you listen to Jewish voices. Might I even suggest Naomi Klein, say, right now?
“At my Hebrew school in Montreal, as in so many schools like it, the facts of the Nazi genocide were drummed into us like arithmetic tables: the numbers of dead, the twisted forms of torture, the gas chambers, the cruelly closed borders[…] Many years later, my friend Cecilie Surasky, then one of the leaders of Jewish Voice for Peace, observed of these kinds of educational methods: ‘It’s re-traumatization, not remembering. There is a difference.’
When she said it, I knew it was true. Remembering puts the shattered pieces of our selves back together again (re-member-ing); it is a quest for wholeness. At its best, it allows us to be changed and transmuted by grief and loss. But re-traumatization is about freezing us in a shattered state; it’s a regime of ritualistic reenactments designed to keep the losses as fresh and painful as possible. Our education did not ask us to probe the parts of ourselves that might be capable of inflicting great harm on others, and to figure out how to resist them[…]
Though there were certainly exceptions, for the most part, the goal of this teaching was not to turn us into people who would fight the next genocide wherever it occurred. The goal was to turn us into Zionists[…]
And at that school, ‘Never again’ did not mean ‘Never again to anyone,’ as it did in our home - it meant ‘Never again to the Jews.’ It meant ‘Never again because of Israel.’”Doppelganger, p.298, 2023
Children in Gaza and Rafah are dying and students across the globe are being beaten by cops while wealthy people dress up and clamor their way to one more moment of luxury, of avoiding responsibility. Cries of antisemitism drown out the thousands upon thousands of Jewish voices screaming for a ceasefire, for peace, rejecting any and all violence done in their name. These protests are labeled violent, with barely any journalists or media questioning where the violence stems from. Demanding divestment from military operations is not violence. Jackboots on the throats of those crying out for peace is violence. Property damage and encampments are not violence, dead aid workers is. It is all done to crush your hope. It is all done to break your faith in others. It is all done to instill fear of your neighbour, to push you into believing the violence is done by the people, not to them. I understand not wanting to look, but we must. When those who burn our world to the ground for profit tell you to look away, that is the best time to turn, full face, into the horror. I do not want to imply it’s easy to do, but when you do face the abyss of destruction, something happens. You look to your left and right and see the others facing the violence and destruction with you, you see more faces turning, even if slowly and a spark works its’ way into your heart.
It’s something akin to hope. Watching media trained students ignore agitators, seeing free medical care, libraries and activities spring up among the encampments. Seeing the solidarity, the donations, the rising cries for dignity, at home and afar, it fills my chest until it’s fit to burst. It is easy and understandable to shy away from the violence, to be overwhelmed with grief, but hope will always find its way back into the heart of the people. So here are some things that make me hopeful:
The students and their tenacity, their certainty and their training. For a long time, the left has been disorganized and underfunded, particularly compared to billionaire backed right wing organizations. Seeing the media training, the complete unwillingness to engage with disingenuous agitators makes me so incredibly proud. They join a long, strong and righteous legacy of student protests. Donate what you can, show up in support if you can.
The speed with which intellectual, coherent criticism is increasingly making its rounds about the wealthy and their greed, about our politicians lying to us. Books like Prophet Song getting critical acclaim, and winning prizes for their artistry and warning. Voices of both warning and hope will not be silenced, even against all the money and viciousness of the state.
Finally, not to put a person on a pedestal, but he just serves as an encapsulation of what I mean: Brennan Lee Mulligan gives me hope. He is funny, compassionate, outspoken and extremely well liked. He, and other comedians he frequently works with have built up stories about justice and kindness that reach thousands upon thousands of young people. He does not shy away from what he believes is right, and uses his platform to push the world towards kindness, equity and justice. I see the popularity of things like Dimension20 and Game Changer and I see those same kids showing up at protests and for each other. I see laughter, I see wit and I see joy and it gives me hope. It gives me a hope so heavy I could almost collapse underneath it. Even on the bad days, what a joy, what an honour to fight for each other and our world.
Thank you, as always, for being here friends. I am trying to get back into the swing of this, and I’m actually taking a writing course to really push myself. I know the news has been heavy, and I know I have very little to contribute to the conversation, but sometimes it just feels good to remind myself of how extraordinary normal people can be, and the power that we have when we decide to take care of one another.
