Atrocity shadows our world. It shadows the ability of Israeli hostages and civilians in Gaza to survive bombardment, starvation, imprisonment, and disease; it shadows Israel’s ability to ever achieve security (Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin warns that indiscriminate bombing is leading Israel to “strategic defeat”); and it shadows the consciences of U.S. citizens, for we are deeply complicit. Just one example: it is our tax dollars that since October have provided Israeli’s military with over 5000 MK-84 bombs. These are massive 2000-pound “dumb bombs,” contraindicated for populated areas. Nevertheless, as the New York Times recently reported, the Israeli military has dropped over 208 of these U.S.-supplied MK-84s on areas in the south of Gaza that are not only populated but over-populated, as it is where Israel had told civilians from the north to go. As the report concludes, “Israel routinely used one of its biggest and most destructive bombs in areas it designated safe for civilians.” No wonder the toll of dead and wounded has been catastrophic.
Cynicism can short-circuit our responses. We Americans might be complicit, we might think, but isn’t the whole world? Allies—enemies—they’re all bad. Everything’s tainted! As former President Obama said of this conflict at the beginning of November, “Nobody’s hands are clean.” So what’s the point of doing anything? Why even think about it?
Thus, it is not just that our fellow humans that are dying. Faith and hope are also on the chopping block.
Against such despair, at the end of my previous post, I promised to explore the “little things” that could keep atrocity from defining our whole world.
But then in Denver, on December 3, my lifelong friend Rob went to jail as part of a demonstration calling for an immediate ceasefire.
Rob is a dear friend, and his action hit me hard. It reminded me that between rampant atrocity and “little things” there is a third modality that comes right out of the American tradition, originating within an individual’s conscience but then becoming a social and political force. In 1849 it was called “Resistance to Civil Government” in an essay by Henry David Thoreau, and later popularly known as “Civil Disobedience.” In protest against slavery and the war against Mexico, Thoreau had refused to pay his taxes and was then sent to jail. He did so not because he thought enslaved people or Mexicans were superhuman saints—but because they were fellow humans unjustly treated by his own country. He didn’t do hard time, as he was bailed out within 24 hours. But the principle of putting one’s body on the line, nonviolently and conscientiously, as Thoreau had articulated it, spread around the world. It was put into practice by Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr., both of whom profoundly changed the world.
The non-violent demonstrations Rob participated in were organized by a Colorado branch of Jewish Voice for Peace, a primarily youthful anti-Zionist organization now active all across the country. JVP recently declared, “As long as Israel is dropping bombs on Gaza, there can be no business as usual.”1 Recently the group marked the last day of Hanukkah by continuing Thoreau’s tradition. Using civil disobedience, they blocked “8 bridges in 8 cities on the 8th night of Hanukkah.”2 There were numerous arrests.
Denver was not one of the eight cities chosen for Hanukkah, but JVP in Colorado organized several large legal demonstrations in the week leading up to it. A smaller group chose to risk arrest by temporarily blocking traffic on Denver’s Speer Blvd. This smaller group was primarily composed of religious young people, but Rob, in his late 70s, together with two other alter kakers, as they called themselves, determined to stand by (or sit with) the idealistic young. A Quaker group, the American Friends Service Committee, provided old and young with training in civil disobedience.
When the day came, Rob and the others duly sat down in an intersection and were duly arrested.
I spent anxious hours scouring Denver news sites until I got word from Rob that all the arrested protestors were safely home and had survived the ordeal with health intact. (I was especially concerned about the “old fogies” [polite translation of the Yiddish label]. Being of the same age, I know well the physical challenges that could have been involved!)
And I was heartened to learn that the demonstrators’ actions were bearing fruit. Jewish Voice for Peace, as part of a coalition including many religions and ethnicities, and with unflagging persistence, had finally persuaded 48 elected state and local officials to call on Colorado’s congressional delegation to press for the release of hostages and an immediate ceasefire.
As part of the campaign of persuasion, Rob made the following statement at a public hearing (I have reconstructed the speech from Rob's notes and lightly edited it for clarity):
The best--the very best of America’s humanistic traditions--nothing comes close--is its anti-racist heritage.
In WW2 our forefathers fought a war against racism--Nazi, Italian, and Japanese racism.
The generation of their sons and daughters fought against racism in Mississippi, in Alabama, in Los Angeles, in South Africa, and against French Colonialism in Algeria.
And those earlier generations now pass the baton to those of us standing here--Palestinians, Jews, Blacks, Native Americans, Latinos, Asians, whites.
From the struggles of Native Americans fighting genocide--Native Americans know what genocide is.
From the anti-slavery struggles that went on for hundreds of years culminating in the victory of the North and the defeat of the racist South in the Civil War--Black Americans know what a holocaust is.
From the struggles of Japanese Americans incarcerated in concentration camps during WW2--Asian Americans know what racism is.
Mexican Americans know what the Palestinians are facing. Their ancestors too had their land stolen. They too were expelled from or subjugated in their former homeland.
Consider the horrors of WW2. All of us—together--were victims of the Holocaust. Yes, we Jews were primary victims. But we were never the only ones, never even only the primary victims. Four million Poles were murdered, 27 million citizens of the former Soviet Union perished. How many tens of millions of Chinese died at the hands of the Japanese?
Rather than isolating our tragedy we should be embracing all those victims. We all stand together in remembrance--in saying Never Again:
Never Again for Native Americans.
Never Again for Afro-Americans.
Never Again for Latinos.
Never Again for Jews, Poles, Soviets, Chinese.
And now--Never Again for Palestine!That is why we are here.
I was struck by Rob’s placing JVP’s current actions within the frame of America’s “anti-racist heritage.” That’s meaningful to me, because that’s exactly the heritage we are working to bring out here in Kansas. As a researcher and a part of the non-profit Black History Trail of Geary County, I am learning more and more about the motivations of the individuals who created that anti-racist heritage in Geary County, starting 180 years ago and continuing through today, here in the very place where I live now.
I will return to those historic local motivations in a moment.
But first I want to share what I learned from Rob. I asked him about his motivations. After all, conscientious objection starts with conscience, within an individual.
Rob emailed me an answer. “Controlled rage at injustice is central to my thinking,” he said. He then mentioned his daughters and grandchildren, but quickly added everybody’s daughters and grandchildren. Finally, he mentioned a foundational feeling. Since he was a child he had yearned for a “balance” between his personal family and the human family, what he called a “sense of belonging to the whole world and being a part of it.” Now, he says, through standing for peace, “I am trying to re-establish that balance, the harmony between people--the balance between all living things and nature.”3
Rob’s words helped me see that underlying “rage at injustice” is an embrace of family--the human family and all creation.
A similar all-encompassing kinship has long been at work here in Geary County. Brotherhood and sisterhood were key motivators in creating the “anti-racist heritage” in this part of Kansas. Black churches were organized in Geary County immediately after the Civil War and became sources of extraordinary strength. They were built around the Love of God—receiving it, returning it, drawing upon it to overcome obstacles, sharing it with congregation and community—even with “white” folks, who on occasion seemed irredeemable, but who were believed to have potential, like all Children of God, to become better versions of themselves. The different denominations had different theologies and like all institutions their own flaws, but the God of all was a Creator who made all human beings of equal worth. That belief in universal kinship energized the civil rights era in Geary County, as Black pastors and congregants led and populated the successful anti-racist movements of the time. To the participants, brotherhood and sisterhood were felt realities but also aspirational goals, so that the movement never gave up on anyone, no matter how benighted or hostile they appeared. Adamant love became a political force that changed Geary County from a segregated community to one now boastful of its diversity. Black churches contributed greatly to making Geary County a better version of itself.
Will Jewish Voice for Peace’s actions make our country a better version of itself?
Thoreau’s protest didn’t stop the Mexican-American War, or the Spanish-American War, or WW1, or WW2, or …fill in the depressing rest. Martin Luther King’s protest against the Vietnam War didn’t prevent the country that honors his birthday from now financing the killing of tens of thousands of Palestinians. But history also shows that love for humankind—brotherhood and sisterhood—are not just sentimental, frivolous trifles, off in la-la land. They have been and can be again very real and serious forces for positive change.
And is it also possible that where love is, there too can be faith and hope?
Email JVP Wire to Margy Stewart, Dec. 18, 2023, 2:18 p.m.
Ibid.
Email Robert J. Prince to Margy Stewart, Dec. 17, 8:37 p.m.