11-08-05

ORANGE RALLY IN TEL AVIV


Tonight I went to the anti-disengagment rally in Rabin Square (thirty-minute walk down the street from where I live on account of all the people making it twice as long as it should be). The rally was held at the square outside of the Tel Aviv City hall. I headed down there at about 7:10pm; got there at 7:40pm. The street, Ibn Gvirol, was closed to traffic, so the people were walking down the street, having spilled out from the sidewalk. The concept of the rally was to protest the pull-outs of Israeli settlers from Gaza and from the four settlements in the WestBank. It was a real festive atmosphere, with thousands upon thousands of people. Everyone either had orange clothing on or had orange cloth strips tied around their arms, necks, legs, face even. There were also thousands of children - protesters arriving in whole families. And I have never seen so many police in one area in my whole life.

My first reaction was to feel the adrenaline of the people around me; except I have deep fundamental problems with national Israel at the expense of Palestine. I was walking in the midst of people who's perspective baffles me. I cannot speak Hebrew, yet, or understand much, at all, and I cannot read it; so I am basically taking things in illiterately, which offers its own heightened senses. I notice people more, rather than letting my mind be filled with hearing the words, I seem to pay more attention to visual stimulation.

As soon as I felt the adrenaline, I had a serious dose of anxiety because of the massive crowds and how I had no idea what was going to happen or how people would respond to me. Here I am walking within a pile of orange coloured, religious Jews, with me wearing a white undershirt exposing my tattoos and an Independent Truck Company hat on my head. I had been wearing the shirt at the laudrymat just previously, because of the heat of the day, and I didn't think much about it (people in Tel Aviv, who aren't religious - which is nearly everyone - dress just like anywhere else in the 1st world.

I didn't really think that most of the people at the rally were going to be people from outside of Tel Aviv. I could tell that by the buses and the day-trip atmosphere. I received a lot of stares but avoided eye contact for much longer than a split-second. I refused any propaganda (pamphlets, orange strips, other paper hand-outs) and was a little nervous about how people looked at me when I shook my head and passed my hand across, signaling that I didn't want it. I just followed the flow of people, moving like one gigantic organism, going around various police barricades, meant to filter people, although there was only one search station.

Even as I just began this walk, I was caught-up by looking at the people I was walking with and watching the children all decked out in orange and holding signs, and jabbering on excitedly to their parents. At one point, when the whole sidewalk and street was packed, something to my left caught my eye and I nearly walked straight into a bunch of Jews facing east, praying through their book and swaying back and forth. I looked at the clock on my cell phone and it was exactly 7:30pm. They had a sign leaning against a wall, while they prayed. It was hand-painted in bright colours and read: Sharon, Peres, Titus, See the Difference? Amazing, I thought, that considering Sharon's very long military career and his zionist exploits, just how quickly people can see him as a traitor for pulling illegal settlers out of illegal settlements.

There was so much energy and sadness and confusion running through me that I had to consciously fight off tears for maybe half-an-hour or so. The crowd pushed and moved together and I nearly bumped straight into another religious Jew swaying and praying. The look of fervent prayer on his face caused tears to fill my eyes and I started asking God if He hears their prayers like He hears mine. These religious Jews believe, very fervently, that God has given them all of the land and that the Palestinians are the enemy, and just like in stories of the Tanak book, Joshua, they are to be crushed. I don't believe in a God like that, which makes it really tough. I have no answers, right now, about the contextualisation of the Old Testament God of war and wrath and the loving Jesus. I have only more questions.

And all these children. What kept going in my mind over and over were the words "racism is learned." Then the words changed to "zionism is learned." Aren't people inherently good? Isn't the evil and oppression in the world passed down from parents to children? Yes, I'm aware of the kingdom of evil and the powerful strangleholds of selfishness and greed and pride; but aren't those aspects of evil either stifled or fostered by parents and teachers? I don't know; I just know the little children all dressed in orange affected me. They looked so innocent; why indoctrinate them to hate?

When I got close to the square, there were these gates set up with metal fencing, manned by several cops to each gate, searching and patting down. One officer said something to me in Hebrew, I responded "Anglit?" and he asked if I had a gun. No, I don't have a gun. I pulled out my passport because I was dizzy from the crowd and not thinking clearly. He looked at it, asked me where I was from, which is weird because he was holding my passport. I responded Canada and he asked me what I was doing here. Tourism I said. "What are you doing in this place?" he demanded gruffly. I want to see what is going on here, I said. He handed my passport back and the next officer asked me if I had a gun. No, I don't have a gun. He patted me down and let me pass.

The throng had doubled or tripled since I had started on the trek down the street. I could barely take a step without needing to re-adjust because of people crossing this way or that in front of me. There were tables set up everywhere with propaganda on them and men in megaphones competing with the very loud loudspeaker system that even had speakers on lightpoles down Ibn Gvirol street, half a km from the square - the high pitched sound of children singing came blasting over the speakers, making me wonder if this was a really bad idea to come.

There were several signs in English and I could hear some loud American accents talking in excited English with each other. I looked but dared not approach for fear of having a conversation with someone. I was too shook up to think clearly and scared of getting lynched for being in complete disagreement of the thousands surrounding me.

The signs I could read I wrote down in my little notebook so I could accurately remember them. There is the one I wrote above, comparing Sharon with Titus (Sharon is Prime Minister and Titus was the Roman dude who razed Jerusalem in 70AD and sacrificed a pig on the alter in the Temple to desecrate the Jewish Holy Place). Another sign read, "Disengagement is ethnic cleansing for Jews." I shook my head and wondered why ethnic cleansing for Palestinians was okay. Yet another sign read, "Jews Free Gaza Welcomes Al Queda." Rather than thinking it was bad English, I thought it was a clear description of the imprisonment of the million plus Palestinians living as though they are in prison in Gaza (that's another story). One sign read, "Gush Katim Forever." Gush Katim is the name of a settlement in Gaza. Another: "Expelling Jews from Gaza lets Terrorists in." Fear. If you changed the content of the signs, I could have been at a Fred Phelps rally for the intolerance around me (google him!)

The sign that upset me the most came in a set of ten. There was this human train of ten hassidic Jews, dressed in black formal wear (their uniform) all holding these huge four by four (foot) placards, printed in full colour, displaying the photo of their quoted rabbi. These signs all said, "Rebbe King Moshiach says one must explain to the nations of the world, IT IS GOOD FOR A NON-JEW NOT TO HOLD THE LAND OF ISRAEL...SO THAT HE MAY LIVE." That was a blatant death threat to anyone who is not Jewish who seeks to call Israel / Palestine home. I passed these men as I was inching forward in the thick of the people in the square.

I was clearly out of place there. I was basically the only man without a kippa (beanie) on; my hat advertised a skateboarding company. People looked at me with stares, which I noticed out of my peripheral, but I kept my eyes on where I was going. Where was I going? I didn't even know. I could see the huge screen that showed the close-ups of the pre-pubescant boys singing the songs. There were four of them and they sang for ten minutes, then a man would give a speech, then the kids would sing again, really powerful voices, too; then another speech. I left during an extended period of speeches that were really getting the crowd riled. The only words I could make out were "Sharon," and "Eretz Israel." The first got boos and the second got cheers.

There were television cameras everywhere, as well as print press and different kinds of filmers / photographers. While the kids were still singing, I had made my way up to the front of the crowd, all-the-while my feet were getting stepped on and the smell the body odour of everyone around me seemed to drug me. People were pushing and no one was really saying "slickha," which means "excuse me." There was a real different vibe in the air. I spent a good five minutes looking around at the humongous crowd behind and beside me and I still couldn't make any sense of the vibe in the air. It felt like I was in a place I shouldn't be; that much I could feel. Maybe this is what a Klan rally feels like to an outsider, I thought; or an NRA meeting...

There was a particularly hard shove against me from behind and one of these same Rabbi King Moshiach sign-holding dudes shoved right past me to get to the very front row. Soon I was surrounded by all ten of the black-suited Jews and the television cameras were on us; the lights in my eyes: me, this chubby white guy, in a "singlet," with tattoos and a skateboarding hat on, surrounded by hassidic Jews with signs that threaten even my life. Some guy at the podium working the crowd into a frenzy and people pushing and stepping on feet, I started to lose my patience.

Of course, prudence told me to swallow my impatience and like a swimmer heading for the surface for that much needed breath of air. I started back, through the throng, which was even more packed (at 8:10pm, ONLY), and toward the street, so I could go home. I was having a horrible time getting through people who took one look at me and it felt to me like they were standing their ground, no matter how nicely or assertively or loudly I said "slickha." Finally, I saw the crowd part for this guy who was wearing a non-woven kippa (more religious than the woven kippa wearers) and shaking a tin, raising money for something. I quickly got behind him and when he realised I was using him to get out, he stopped in his tracks, turned around and gave me a look that said, "foreigner: what are you doing here!" I didn't have any orange, remember.

I kind of pushed past him as the crowd swelled and shifted and soon I was trying not to step on kids who were just sitting on the ground at their parents' feet. I was pushed into an elderly lady and my mind started whirring. I was no longer close to tears, I was flat-out panicked and needed to get out of there fast.

My thoughts kept coming back to the fact that Palestinians are people too. Sure, there is a lot of fear and anxiety from the point of Israelis and I can kind of see how they would be afraid, what with suicide bombings, etc. But there is also a lot more military attacks on Palestinian civilians than Palestinian attacks on Israeli civilians (WAY MORE), as well as the day to day dehumanisation, so I can also see why the Palestinians are afraid and anxious and feel imprisoned in a land that they call home.

I often quell my frustrations and lonliness by singing psalms when I'm out of anyone's earshot, and my initial thought was to go home and do just that. But then I thought of the praying Jews and how fervently they prayed, and maybe these same psalms. I thought of how they associate this land as an endowment from God. Then I thought of Christian zionism, in its differing facets and how it, too, gives Israel land, carte blanche, regardless of the morality or spiritual condition of the inhabitants of Israel. My understanding of the land, from the Old Testament's perspective, was that it was God's land and that He was loaning it out to Israel, comforting them with promises about it when they were dispossessed; but calling on them for social justice when they did have the land.

I thought (and still do think) that the land is God's, carte blanche, not some group of people. Anyway, sorry if you're agnostic and think I've just lost my mind.... So, all these things were whirring around in my head and I suddenly felt a flash of anger. No, I didn't want to go home and read the psalms and dream all my troubles away. I didn't want to even read the book that fuels such fires of oppression in people. Father, I prayed, please forgive me for being mad at Your Book. I'm not mad at You; I'm just so confused.

So what did I do? I went grocery shopping.

Just to further add to yours and my own confusion: today Talia and I were driving to register me at the Hebrew language school (I'm very excited), and I asked her if the blue streamer people (in support of the disengagment) were ever dumped on by the orange streamer people. She said no. I asked her if they were considered to be bad Jews or something. She was surprised and said, no, they're zionists too. For sure: they just believe that no Israeli soldiers should be hurt or killed expelling Israelis. But they would have no problem with Israeli soldiers fighting Palestinians. Oh, I said. I guess my whole inner comfort about many people here being supportive of Palestinian human rights is blown apart. So I said to Talia, how many people are there in Israel like us? (referring to Zochrot - people who are for Palestinians' rights) Nearly no Israelis, she said. There's a whole community of NGO's and we all know each other; other than that, there's no one. Everyone else (Israelis) is all for expelling Palestinians from the land.

I don't know if her opinion is exactly accurate or not. Although it really wouldn't surprise me. I do know that out of the two people I have told about Zochrot, they both gave me really bad reactions. One man told me never to talk about that again (referring to the Nakba - the Palestinian catastrophe) and a young woman said with a tone in her voice, that is not a popular topic; NOT a popular topic.

So, yeah, I'm confused. Maybe that's a good place to be. I'm going to sing some psalms and dream my troubles away now....