<![CDATA[KAVANAH (MINDFUL) MATTERS

<![CDATA[KAVANAH (MINDFUL) MATTERS - Blog]]>Sun, 03 Aug 2025 14:48:50 -0500Weebly<![CDATA[Zionism and Utopia in Jewish Thought]]>Sat, 02 Aug 2025 22:10:24 GMThttp://www.kavanahmatters.com/blog/zionism-and-utopia-in-jewish-thought8 Minute Read

Today is Tisha b’Av, the saddest day on the Jewish calendar. Depending on their level of observance, Jews mourn the destruction of the First and Second Temples, in 586 BCE and 70 CE respectively. We also remember the failed Bar Kochba revolt against the Romans, who subsequently colonized Judea and renamed it “Syria Palaestina” in an attempt to disgrace the Jews and sever their connection to the land.

As I have shared in earlier pieces, I am in the process of converting to Judaism. I also have an interest in utopian literature and political philosophy. On this day of grief and remembrance, when Jewish tradition turns its attention to loss, exile, and the hope of return, it feels fitting to explore how that hope has been imagined in Jewish tradition, not only in biblical prophecy, but also in the realm of political thought and utopian vision.

Utopia in Literature and Philosophy

The idea of utopia, at least in the Western canon, can be traced back more than five centuries. In 1516, Thomas More coined the term by combining the Greek ou (“no”) and topos (“place”). His fictional island society was carefully ordered, materially sufficient, and dedicated to the life of the mind. “The magistrates never engage the people in unnecessary labour,” he writes, “to allow the people as much time as is necessary for the improvement of their minds.”

More’s vision was not without precedent. In the fourth century BCE, Aristotle connected material abundance to the possibility of a virtuous and contemplative life. “To have all things and to want nothing is sufficiency,” he observes in Politics, adding that a well-ordered state should enable its citizens to live temperately, liberally, and with time for leisure.

Shifting into modernity, Karl Marx imagined a similar freedom from necessity, brought about through technology and collective ownership. In The German Ideology, he describes a future in which people might “hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, and criticize after dinner,” without the compulsion of labor for survival. In The Communist Manifesto, he envisions industry and agriculture producing more than enough to meet everyone’s needs, once freed from the constraints of private property.

Religious Zionism and Utopia

Jewish thought has its own visions of material and spiritual fullness which is exemplified in the ideology of the messianic age. In the twelfth century, Maimonides wrote, “In the future, there will be neither famine nor war, envy nor competition. Good will flow in abundance and all of the delights will be freely available as dust. The occupation of the entire world will be solely to know the Divine.” He concludes with the words of Isaiah, The prophet most notably associated with messianic prophecy believed to have written in the 8th century BCE:

The world will be filled with the knowledge of God as the waters cover the ocean bed.
לֹא־יָרֵ֥עוּ וְלֹֽא־יַשְׁחִ֖יתוּ בְּכׇל־הַ֣ר קׇדְשִׁ֑י כִּֽי־מָלְאָ֣ה הָאָ֗רֶץ דֵּעָה֙ אֶת־יְהֹוָ֔ה כַּמַּ֖יִם לַיָּ֥ם מְכַסִּֽים

In Jewish messianic tradition, divine retribution, a return of the exiled Jews to the land of Israel, and God ushering in an era of peace is the hallmark of utopia. Isaiah continues:

[God] will hold up a signal to the nations
And assemble the banished of Israel,
And gather the dispersed of Judah
From the four corners of the earth.
וְנָשָׂ֥א נֵס֙ לַגּוֹיִ֔ם וְאָסַ֖ף נִדְחֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל וּנְפֻצ֤וֹת יְהוּדָה֙ יְקַבֵּ֔ץ מֵאַרְבַּ֖ע כַּנְפ֥וֹת הָאָֽרֶץ

For instruction shall come forth from Zion,
The word of GOD from Jerusalem.
Thus [God] will judge among the nations
And arbitrate for the many peoples,
And they shall beat their swords into plowshares
And their spears into pruning hooks:
Nation shall not take up
Sword against nation;

They shall never again know war.
כִּ֤י מִצִּיּוֹן֙ תֵּצֵ֣א תוֹרָ֔ה וּדְבַר־יְהֹוָ֖ה מִירוּשָׁלָֽ͏ִם וְשָׁפַט֙ בֵּ֣ין הַגּוֹיִ֔ם וְהוֹכִ֖יחַ לְעַמִּ֣ים רַבִּ֑ים וְכִתְּת֨וּ חַרְבוֹתָ֜ם לְאִתִּ֗ים וַחֲנִיתֽוֹתֵיהֶם֙ לְמַזְמֵר֔וֹת לֹא־יִשָּׂ֨א ג֤וֹי אֶל־גּוֹי֙ חֶ֔רֶב וְלֹֽא־יִלְמְד֥וּ ע֖וֹד מִלְחָמָֽה

Across these sources, we see a common thread: abundance. For More, Aristotle, and Marx, utopia is possible when material needs are fully met, freeing people for the pursuit of knowledge, virtue, and creativity. In their vision, this comes through a righteous yet earthly political order. For Maimonides and Isaiah, utopia is defined by an abundance of redemption. The land is no longer marked by scarcity or violence but by ethical flourishing made possible only through the presence and judgment of God.

Political Zionism and Utopia

Yet, toward the end of the 19th century, Jewish thinkers, some secular and some not, began combining the temporal and the spiritual to evoke a three millennia-old concept and reinvigorate global Jewry’s nostalgia for Zion.

In his 1902 work Altnueland (Old New Land), Theodore Herzl, an Austro-Hungarian journalist and lawyer, eschewed the impossibility of utopia proclaiming, “If you will it, it is no dream.” He created a very real political doctrine with actionable steps world Jewry needed to take in order to reclaim both their dignity and their sovereignty: Political Zionism. Herzl envisioned a land where Jews were no longer a "foreign element” within a nation but instead a nation with a country of their own in their ancestral homeland, Eretz Yisrael.

Herzl, a secular Jew with no pious proclevities, promoted a vision for a Jewish state that leveraged Jewish religious nostalgia and longing for a return to Zion but contextualized it within modern political realities. This political realism is captured in his 1896 pamphlet, Der Judenstaat, wherein he prioritizes land availability over religious nostalgia. Still, he does not shy away from the Jewish historical ties to the land, “Shall we choose Palestine or Argentina? We shall take what is given us, and what is selected by public opinion…Palestine is our ever-memorable historic home. The very name would attract our people with a force of marvelous potency.”

Though conceived as a practical solution to the Jewish question, Der Judenstaat also carried a utopian vision. Herzl imagined a state that would not only ensure peace and prosperity for its inhabitants, but also serve as a blessing to the wider world. The ingathering of global Jewry, he wrote, was “essential to the world” and would “be the haven of peace for the whole of mankind. Our return will make us free men on our own soil and bring peace to those among whom we now dwell.” He further envisioned that “the Jewish State will be a model state. We shall not only bring wealth to our own people, but we shall exert a beneficial influence on all mankind.”

Labor Zionism and Utopia

Prior to Herzl, in 1862 Moses Hess argued for diaspora Jews to return to their homeland in (what had become) Ottoman Palestine. His most notable work, Rome and Jerusalem, was originally published in German decades before Herzl penned Der Judenstaat. In 1918, it was translated into English by Meyer Waxman. In his preface, Waxman encapsulated Hess’ utopic vision for a Jewish national homeland in Palestine, Eretz Yisrael. Hess argued that the regeneration of Judaism was impossible in exile, where Jewish life “lacks the soil, the basis of a political life.” Only in their own land, he maintained, could Jews “produce new economic and social values” and continue to develop “their greatest creation, religion, which as a moral force will exert great influence upon humanity and thus bring about the realization of social harmony.”

It is the last line to which I want to draw the most attention. Hess’ vision of a settled Jewish nation on their native soil is what would “exert great influence upon humanity” and “bring about the realization of social harmony.” Utopia.

Hess was a labor Zionist, a socialist, and acquainted with Marx, yet he drew deeply from his Jewish education and familial traditions to argue for a uniquely Jewish, socialist utopia. It would be a place where the chains of materialistic individualism were replaced by the fruitful love of family, faith, and community. Productive labor, he insisted, could not exist for Jews in exile because they lacked “the most necessary condition, an ancestral soil,” and could not assimilate “without at the same time denying their national religion and tradition.”

Hess was openly nostalgic for Zion and for the potential of the Jewish nation once it was restored to its ancient soil and freed from exploitative, capitalist pressures. “I always recall,” he wrote, “with deep emotion, the scenes I lived through as a child…during the fast-day commemorating the destruction of Jerusalem… my grandfather would read to us the stories and legends concerning the exile of the Jews from Jerusalem. The tears fell upon his snow-white beard as he read, and we children, too, would cry and sob.” For Hess, the belief in immortality was bound up with the Jewish family, stretching “back into the past as far as the Patriarchs, and in the future to Messiah’s reign.” That influence, he concluded, would only grow “when once more the Torah will go forth from Zion and the Word of the Lord from Jerusalem.”

Zionism and Judaism

In the crucible of pogroms, political upheaval, and modern nationalism, three major expressions of Zionism emerged: Political, Religious, and Labor. Together, they shaped the foundations of the modern State of Israel and continue to influence the ways diaspora Jews relate to it today. Whether one chooses to romanticize or criticize it, Zionism is intrinsically linked to Judaism. It is the aspiration for Jewish self-determination in the Land of Israel and rooted in the earliest layers of Jewish tradition.
Since Abraham’s covenant with God in Genesis, when he was commanded to “go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you,” the Jewish people have linked their faith to Eretz Yisrael. Two millennia of exile, foreign rule, and persecution did not sever this bond, but compelled it to evolve.

Despite its modern political forms, Zionism remains tied to Jewish tradition and to the deep current of nostalgia that runs through Jewish history. Today, on Tisha b’Av, Jews across the world recite the words of Psalm 137 and reflect on the exiles and persecutions faced by their ancestors; some events remembered only through stories passed down over thousands of years, others still within living memory, and some unfolding even now.

Psalms 137:
By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat, sat and wept, as we thought of Zion
עַ֥ל־נַהֲר֨וֹת ׀ בָּבֶ֗ל שָׁ֣ם יָ֭שַׁבְנוּ גַּם־בָּכִ֑ינוּ בְּ֝זׇכְרֵ֗נוּ אֶת־צִיּֽוֹן

]]><![CDATA[I am Not a Jew with Trembling Knees]]>Sun, 22 Jun 2025 19:42:00 GMThttp://www.kavanahmatters.com/blog/i-am-not-a-jew-with-trembling-knees8 Minute Read

What does it mean to choose Judaism in a time when simply existing as a Jew is dangerous?

On June 19th, 2025, San Antonio police and the FBI arrested a suspect accused of planning a mass shooting at the Barshop Jewish Community Center. [Read the article here]

That is less than an hour from me. I know people in that community.

So, what does one do with that information? How does a community process it? Are San Antonio Jews meant to respond directly to the threat? Are they supposed to ignore it and go about their business? I ask these questions as someone in the process of converting to Judaism; from a position of genuine curiosity and concern.

Antisemitism is not new. Everyone knows it exists, and that it has morphed and adapted over thousands of years. While I do cite some recent data here, I’m not writing as a researcher.

I’m writing as someone choosing to become a Jew, now, in real time, and grappling with the reality of what that means.

Next Shabbat, the last one in the month of June, there will be a combined service of the two local Reform temples in Austin to celebrate Pride month. I am gay and have been with my wife for over ten years. I don’t participate in Pride events to any great extent other than one-offs on random years. It’s not my thing. I’m a Pisces married to a Taurus. We like being safe at home surrounded by snacks and cats. That said, it takes all kinds to make the world go ‘round and I am grateful Pride exists for the people who enjoy and need it.

Back to Shabbat. I am used to attending service in a well-secured enclave. Security guards protect the entrance to the Jewish community center and roam the campus to ensure there are no shenanigans, terrorists, or general disruptors. I appreciate this feature. It makes me feel more comfortable and helps me to focus on the reason I came to the campus in the first place, whether it be studying, worship, or shopping.

That protection does not exist everywhere. Not even at every Jewish place of worship. And while I am not asking or hoping for armed guards roving the sanctuary, if we consider the recent attack in Pittsburgh, a community synagogue with minimal security, we see plainly the carnage one insane person with an agenda is capable of.

So, for the first time since I was in an active combat zone, I am nervous to be in a place.

Anti-Zionism vs Antisemitism: Where the Line Blurs

I am nervous to attend the Pride service next week. That upsets me. It also upsets me that I am hesitant to be visibly Jewish in public. Note, I did not say visibly Zionist in public. I said visibly Jewish. For, as much as the movement with which I previously aligned insists that anti-Zionism is not antisemitism, you would be hard pressed to find the ideological distinctions in practice. What do I mean by that?

Here is a brief ADL sourced list of specific (recent) attacks where the targets were existing as Jews, not presenting as pro-Israeli or pro-Zionist:

October 26, 2024, Chicago, Illinois: Sidi Mohamed Abdallahi shot a Jewish man walking to his synagogue and then opened fire on responding police and paramedics.

September 4, 2024, New York, New York: As part of a two-country investigation, Canadian authorities arrested a Pakistani citizen, Muhammad Shahzeb Khan, while he was trying to cross the border into the United States, allegedly as part of a planned mass shooting against a Jewish target in New York to support ISIS.

July 16, 2024, New York, New York: Federal authorities charged Michail Chkhikvishvili, a citizen of the nation of Georgia, with soliciting hate crimes and mass violence. According to authorities, Chkhikvishvili attempted to recruit others to poison Jewish children and commit a mass casualty attack in New York City. He also allegedly encouraged bombings, arson and poisonings against Jews, racial minorities and homeless people.

November 18, 2022. New York, New York: Authorities arrested white supremacist Christopher Brown and in November 2024, he pleaded guilty and was sentenced to 10 years in state prison for possessing a firearm as part of a plan to “shoot up” a Manhattan synagogue.

June 17, 2022. Struthers, Ohio: Alerted by the FBI, police in Struthers, Ohio, arrested a teenager live streaming a video in which he allegedly announced he was going to kill his father and take his van, then shoot at Black people before conducting a mass shooting at a synagogue. Police allegedly found two handguns that had racist and antisemitic symbols and messages on them, as well as a document variously described as a journal and a manifesto.

June 10, 2022. Brookhaven, New York: Authorities arrested Matthew Belanger in Long Island, New York, on weapons charges. Prosecutors say Belanger was a white supremacist who, while a Marine, plotted to attack a synagogue in New York.

January 15, 2022. Colleyville, Texas: British citizen Malik Faisal Akram took four people hostage at Congregation Beth Israel synagogue in Colleyville, Texas, claiming to have weapons and bombs. He subsequently demanded that suspected Al Qaeda courier Aafia Siddiqui be released from the nearby federal prison where she was being held. After a day-long ordeal, the hostages were able to escape the building, and Akram was killed by law enforcement. Akram apparently chose the location because, he claimed, "America only cares about Jewish lives."

October 31, 2021. Austin, Texas: In November 2023, Franklin Barrett Sechriest pleaded guilty in the 2021 arson attack on Congregation Beth Israel, which caused $25,000 in damage, and was sentenced to 10 years in prison. Authorities say Sechriest had stickers with white supremacist propaganda and symbols in his possession, as well as journals containing racist and antisemitic writings.

My final example of the lack of differentiation between anti-Zionism and antisemitism is the Arabic chant often heard at Pro-Palestinian rallies throughout the U.S and Europe. It recalls the 7th century slaughter of Jews in Khaybar, Arabia by Muslims. “Khaybar, Khaybar ya Yahud!”

Recall, there was no longer a Jewish kingdom let alone Jewish political autonomy in Eretz Yisrael in 628 C.E. when this battle occurred. Jews had been conquered and expelled from their homeland many times over by different imperial powers and existed primarily in diaspora. They were essentially powerless. And although they would conquer the Levant shortly after, Muslim Arabs had not yet begun their colonial expansion beyond Arabia at the time of this historic battle. Further, there is zero documentation of the Khaybar cry being used at any point during the Islamic conquests. “Khaybar, Khaybar ya Yahud!” is a modern invention.

Yahud means Jew.
Not Zionist. Not Israeli.
Jew.

So the modern creation and use of the Khaybar cry by anti-Zionists raises two questions, “Why are Pro-Palestinians using a rallying cry against Jews generally when their target is Zionists?” And, when viewed from a historical lens, “Does it make sense to conflate a war slogan that applied to a specific marginalized Arabian Jewish community with a modern anti-imperialist, anti-Zionist ideology?”

It makes sense if you accept that, from the perspective of those who would wish to do me harm, anti-Zionism and antisemitism are the same thing. That statement does not negate the fact that some Jews do not identify with Zionism or that Zionism has multiple meanings for different people. Semantics aside, my realization of this truth is what pulled me out of my previous ideological alignment with the Anti-Zionist collective. I could no longer, in good conscience, advocate for or associate with an ideology that refused to admonish those who would promote genocidal rhetoric.

Here is a small collection of the Khaybar cry for you to see it and hear it for yourself to contextualize it:
NYC 2014 - 1:07
London 2017 - .0:15
NYC 2017 - 1:28
NYC 2011 - :22
NYC 2009 - :37
Berlin 2023 - :01
Unlisted location posted in 2023- :19

I suppose now I can answer the question I started with:

What does it mean to choose Judaism in a time when simply existing as a Jew is dangerous?

It means understanding that danger has always been part of Jewish existence. It means knowing that I will be hated for being Jewish. I will be hated for being Zionist. I will be called a colonizer here in America. And I will be called a colonizer if I choose to live in Israel. Anti-Zionism/antisemitism is a two-sided coin, and no matter how I flip it, someone will say I lose. The only way I can appease those who would do me harm is by negating my Judaism entirely, and I can assure you that will not happen.
So I will leave you with a song made from the words of Hasidic Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav (1772-1810):
“The entire world is a narrow bridge; the essential thing is not to fear at all.”

]]><![CDATA[Teshuvah]]>Sun, 15 Jun 2025 05:00:00 GMThttp://www.kavanahmatters.com/blog/teshuvah6 Minute Read

It’s been a while since I have written anything for the sake of writing - for catharsis.
Not because I had nothing to say, necessarily, but because I no longer knew who I was saying it to.
When I last wrote something of substance, not to imply this is substantial, I had emerged from graduate school fresh from my thesis, from a summer with my Hebrew language cohort, and from a winter spent in Israel and Palestine. I had been spoiled by intellectual discourse, social engagement, and overwhelmed with political ideology and action.
________________________________________

Then I came home. And slowly, I stopped.
No more evening lectures. No more campus visits.
The news faded into background noise. Books gathered dust.
When I did read, I traded Finkelstein for fantasy.

Only now do I recognize it for what it was: burnout.
________________________________________

Imagine that.
I took a 5-year tour inside the world of Israel and Palestine.
I absorbed as much as I could from the Jewish diaspora, sought to understand the conflict from academia and from the land itself, immersed myself in the religions, languages, and cultures…

And then I burned out.

I stopped going to Temple in Austin.
I stopped reading Arabic and Hebrew news and I let my skill set diminish.
I didn’t respond to social justice emails or meetups.

And I stopped writing.

I stepped back from everything because I could.
I was not truly of that world, so I no longer needed to stay and be emotionally drained by its tumult.
Their fight wasn’t my fight.
Their struggles didn’t directly affect me.
I was raised as a WASP from the southern U.S. I had only been visiting their reality and could escape and hide in mine anytime I wanted to.

So I did.
________________________________________

Then, October 7th happened.

It pinged on my radar, but I still wasn’t able to return.
It was still all too much, and I didn’t feel it was my place to vocalize my position.
I was not Jewish.
I was not Israeli.
I was not Muslim.
I was not Palestinian.
I was not Arab.
I was not a refugee.
I was no one involved.
________________________________________

So what changed? Why am I writing now? What does return even mean?

I was raised religious.
I grew up in church, I read the Bible regularly, attended vacation bible school, got baptised, read Matthew at Christmas; the whole nine yards.
Realizing I was a lesbian when I was a young teenager divorced me from my Christian faith.
I joined the Army at 20 and deployed to Iraq in 2004.
I was awestruck being in Babylon and seeing cities and towns I had grown up reading about in the Bible.
I no longer had a belief in Christian faith, but I still had a yearning for something I didn’t quite understand.
When I left the military, I enrolled in college and studied history, philosophy, and religion with a focus on Islam and Judaism.
I began to study Arabic and became a member of my school’s Secular Student Alliance chapter.
This was also when I was introduced to the Free Palestine movement and Jewish Voice for Peace.

I joined them.

In graduate school, my perspective of the region broadened.
I continued to study Arabic and added Hebrew, I read Ilan Pappé and Norman Finkelstein, I even had a brief email exchange with Noam Chomsky.
I pursued any material related to the Nakba, Zionism, and Jewish colonialism and terrorism.
To this day, I strongly recommend everyone read “O Jerusalem!” by Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins.
When I graduated, I went to Israel and Palestine for several months.

I saw what I had studied. I lived it.

And it broke me open so thoroughly, I had to walk away from it all.
Writing became impossible. Thought became heavy.
It was an absolute paradigm shift that required (apparently) years of processing.
________________________________________

Now, I have processed much of it.

Not yet all, but enough to pick up the pieces and begin to rebuild on the foundation I established.
I am converting to Judaism presently.
I attend a Reform Temple regularly, participate in weekly Torah study, and observe holidays and Shabbat to the extent I can as a working professional.
I follow the news closely, American and Israeli, and have begun to reimmerse myself in Jewish culture and history more deeply than ever before.

Where once my wrist bore a “Free Palestine” bracelet, now it bears “Am Yisrael Chai.”
I have decided that I do not want to hide anymore.
I want to be a very active part of the world I once hid from.

Why?

נַחְפְּשָׂ֤ה דְרָכֵ֙ינוּ֙ וְֽנַחְקֹ֔רָה וְנָשׁ֖וּבָה עַד־יְהֹוָֽה
“Let us examine our ways, scrutinize them, and return to God.” – Lamentations 3:40

Maybe I found God again?
Maybe I never lost Him.
I am not sure. I am still rebuilding.
But I know that I am not meant to hide away and ignore what is happening in Israel and Palestine.

I can’t anymore.

I left the land,
but it is not an exaggeration to state that the land never left me,
and there is absolutely nothing I can do to deny that reality.
Believe me, I tried.
So, I will conclude this piece with a peaceful feeling because I am writing again.
Perhaps I will have more to say about my conversion process and my politics, but not today.

Teshuvah. I have returned, and that is enough for now.

]]><![CDATA[Nothing About Palestine is Easy]]>Wed, 08 Nov 2017 08:04:48 GMThttp://www.kavanahmatters.com/blog/nothing-about-palestine-is-easy8 Minute Read

As a reminder, I have been studying this region for the better part of a decade. I studied Arabic and Hebrew at Middlebury and earned my M.A. from the Center for Middle Eastern Studies at the University of Texas. My thesis was on conscientious objectors in Israel. I completed a 7-week course with Rutgers University and the International Center for Nonviolent Conflict. I am very aware of the history and politics of Israel and Palestine.

Being in Palestine is not easy.

Nothing about Palestine is easy. Even evoking its name implies that you have given considerable thought to the socio-political issue and have decidedly picked a political position. Since being here, I have discovered that there are generally 2 types of people who acknowledge the existence of Palestine. First, there are the well-intentioned folks who have no idea the politics behind the name and only use it because they heard it on the news or in passing. Then, there are those who know exactly what they mean when they say it and are using the name very much on purpose to make a point. I fall into the latter group.

I arrived for my second visit to Bethlehem from Ramallah via Wadi Qelt, an impressive patch of desert between Jerusalem and Jericho. I spent the day hiking in the wadi (Arabic for valley) and was very ready to settle in and get some rest. The 8-person taxi arrived to Bethlehem at night, so I asked my fellow passengers (in unconfident Arabic) if they knew how to get to the Bunksurfing Hostel, the place I’d be staying the rest of the week. A Muslim lady sharing the ride offered to call the hostel and get explicit directions. When I thanked her for her kindness, she replied simply, “You are our guest. We have to take care of you here.” This lovely sentiment. I soon found out, is not uncommon among Palestinians.

When our taxi reached its final destination at the Bethlehem bus station, my Muslim friend escorted me to a taxi stand, and signaled for me not to speak. She spoke in Arabic to a taxi driver and then turned to me and said, “Ok. He will charge you 20 shekels and he will take you to the hostel.” I thanked her yet again for her hospitality, she wished me well, and I departed. We made a brief stop into Fadi’s so I could grab a falafel sandwich before checking in and going to sleep. Having just trekked some 7 miles through the Judean Desert, (Palestinians often call it "The Wilderness") I was famished and inhaled the falafel. I wonder if that sandwich was tasty?

The first time I stayed in the Bethlehem area, I was in the neighboring village of Beit Sahour. This time, I am in Doha in a hostel not far from the main road. I came back to Bethlehem because, after spending 3 days in Beit Sahour, I fell in love with this city. There’s no place like it. It is surrounded by immense concrete barriers (I’ll return to this later), and is home to Christians, Muslims, and, off in the distance in their own self-segregated communities, Jews. The passion in Bethlehem is palpable. It is both a sacred place for believers and a hub for political activists. The best way I can express how I feel about Bethlehem is through the words of Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish:

حْبَبتُك مُرغَماً
ليسَ لأنك الأجمل، بل لأنك الأعمق
فعاشقُ الجمالِ في العادةِ أحمق

I was compelled to love you.
Not because you are the fairest, but because you are the deepest.
For a lover of beauty is usually a fool.

My introduction to the West Bank

In October, I spent 3 days with an Arab Christian family. They invited me to ride with them to Hebron because they needed to fulfill an online order for kufiyas, the traditional Palestinian shawl or scarf worn by farmers and now Palestinian-rights activists. We were to place the order directly at the Hirbawi Textile Factory. On the way out of Bethlehem, we drove by hundreds of people, some Muslim, some Christian. We spoke about the religious significance of Bethlehem, it being the birthplace of Jesus and home to the Church of the Nativity. The matriarch of the family who hosted me said thoughtfully, “All 3 are cousins. Why do they fight?” “Greed,” I answered. Then she asked, “So, which one is right?” meaning of the 3 Abrahamic faiths. “Whichever makes you the best person," I said. She seemed to appreciate that answer. Personally, I was raised Christian but have since come to identify more closely with Judaism. Still, the purity of the adhan, the Islamic call to prayer, brings tears to my eyes.

I rode with my host family to see for myself how Israel’s "security" wall encroaches onto Palestinian territory. I use security in quotation marks because the checkpoint system and dividing barrier is arbitrary and ineffective as a security feature. Palestinians regularly enter Israel through hitchhiking, tour buses, regular buses, settler-specific buses, passenger vehicles, taxis; it’s just a matter of will, confidence, and charm. A Palestinian who knows Hebrew can pass as an Israeli Jew. Palestinians drive city buses throughout Israel. This security wall is a façade, nothing but a show of force and a way to gradually increase Israeli territory. It is an insult to both common sense and the peace process. It should be noted, however, that Palestinians caught in Israel without proper documentation are heavily fined and potentially jailed for months at a time,

During the 40 minute drive from Bethlehem to Hebron, I was able to see the Israeli settlements east of the Green Line, meaning outside of Israel located in the West Bank, and to visit another Palestinian town. We drove south along Highway 60, a main thoroughfare in the West Bank maintained by Israel. The first settlement we passed was Har Gilo. As we drove, they both pointed to each settlement one by one. I soon lost track, there were so many.

Facts about Israeli Settlements

Israeli settlements are inhabited by Israeli Jews. The lands upon which these communities are built have been annexed by the state of Israel, despite being physically located in the West Bank. Why? Quick summary: After Israel won the 1967 war, defeating their neighboring Arab-state aggressors, it pushed into territory the international community does not recognize as belonging to Israel. To maintain its foothold in the West Bank, Israel relies on military law and a constant military presence. Palestinians are subjected to military law while Israelis in the West Bank fall under civilian law; 2 sets of laws for 2 different people. This is why the West Bank is referred to as the Occupied Palestinian Territories (oPt) by groups like Amnesty International, the United Nations, the European Union, and various human rights and legal groups around the world.

Israel builds these illegal settlements to create “facts on the ground”; to make its gradual confiscation of Palestinian land appear natural and normal. The frame of mind is two-fold:

If there are Israelis in the West Bank, that land must belong to Israel.
If there are Jews in the West Bank, they need to be secured. This legitimizes a military presence in the West Bank despite the territory clearly being outside of Israel’s internationally agreed upon borders.

There are 547,000 settlers in over 137 settlements and 100 outposts in the West Bank and East Jerusalem. The security wall winds around the settlements to keep them secluded from Palestinian Arabs and to effectively annex more Palestinian land. For instance, walls are constructed a great distance from the settlement infrastructure so as to give an excuse to take more Palestinian land. Of course, security is the reasoning given. The illegal communities have their own security, their own infrastructure, and they rely on the natural resources of the West Bank. This includes water.

When it comes to water, Israel controls it. In fact, Israel controls everything above and below the ground in the West Bank. This translates to settlers having priority and being free to use significantly more water than Palestinians. The West Bank settler population (including East Jerusalem) consumes approximately six times more water than the entire Palestinian West Bank population of 2.6 million. When Palestinians run out of water, which has happened to my hosts twice since I have been here, they must purchase water from Israel at increased rates or wait a week or more for Israel to open the pipes and release more water into their tanks. Oh, and Israel does not allow Palestinians to innovate by collecting rain water or developing a reserve system. That is highly illegal. One last thing, the pipes Palestinians are authorized to use are 2" in diameter, often in dire need of repair, and leak. The water pipes used by Israelis average 10" and are much newer.

Incentivizing Expansion

To get Israeli Jews to move into Palestinian territory, the state of Israel incentivizes these settlements. The Quakers, the American Friends Service Committee, are highly involved in documenting Israel’s abuses against Palestinians. Here are some numbers they put together:
Housing – In 2013 90 settlements were considered “National Priority Areas”. As a result, up to 69% of the cost of purchasing land in these settlements is subsidized by the government as are infrastructure development costs associated with building a new unit in these settlements. Government grants of up to NIS 97,000 (approximately $25,000) are also available to prospective home buyers in these communities. Other benefits include preferential mortgage terms and subsidized utilities.
Education – Settlement schools receive higher levels of funding than schools inside Israel. Teachers in settlements receive higher salaries than those working inside Israel. Free education in settlements begins at age 3 rather than at age 4 as is the case inside Israel. Student transportation and testing costs are subsidized for settler children, and settler youth are prioritized in university scholarship decision making processes.
Business – Israel has established approximately 13 industrial areas in or near settlements in the West Bank. The building of these areas has been heavily subsidized by the government. Leasing fees for land in these areas is heavily subsidized and businesses in settlements are given preferential access to research grants, assistance with hiring, and income tax breaks. Business and labor practices in Settlement industrial areas are virtually unregulated, and abuses of Palestinian workers’ rights including the denial of benefits and underpayment are common practices.

Life Under Occupation

Staring out the window of their Hyundai, I see settlement after settlement. Always, they are on the highest point of land. The Israelis build settlements on hills because the panoramic views make for a great selling point when private builders are trying to fill apartments, and being on an incline is strategically advantageous in times of conflict. The fact that the settlements can be seen from so far away is psychological warfare. Palestinians are able to see from great distances just how present Israelis are, how easy it is for them to confiscate Palestinian land with no repercussions, and, perhaps most impactful, the illegal settlements serve to remind the Palestinians just who holds the power. Once that land is under control of Israelis, it is no longer part of the West Bank. Another plot of land confiscated, never to be returned.

But life for my host family was not always this way. Before the Intifada, there was no security wall. Palestinians were freer on their own land, free to go between Bethlehem and Jerusalem without being detained, searched, or turned away for not having the right documentation. The patriarch of the family worked for 47 years as a teacher in Hebron. They have 2 sons who graduated from Bethlehem University, a daughter who directs a local hospital in Beit Sahour, and another daughter who teaches at an Arab-Christian academy. The school is funded by a Christian missionary out of Tulsa. Their sons live in Ireland now because there is no way for them to make a living in Bethlehem. I can tell he misses his children, but he is content that they have a better life outside of Palestine. They are 2 of the lucky ones.

Riding with them, I can sense the tension in the air. I can tell they are upset talking about and seeing the settlements and the checkpoints, the refugee camps, the guard towers, the military vehicles, the soldiers--just kids--with rifles and machine guns, the razor wire, poverty, the garbage, the ongoing construction projects, the fenced-off areas marking the sites for new settlements. Yes, life in Palestine is incredibly hard. It’s exhausting to be here as a visitor, I cannot imagine how it must feel to know your chances of being able to leave or to improve your life is nil. It is a feeling of powerlessness and frustration.

But my host family are not hopeless. They are not victims. They are doers. They are driving to Hebron to fulfill orders made by people who care about the Arabs of Palestine. That money is injected into the Palestinian economy. The mother also creates crafts by hand to support local initiatives like the Arab Women Union. She even created a website where she sells her embroidery to help combat the 14.1% of Palestinian families living on less than 50 cents a day. Nearly every day, the mother carries bags of her crafts through Checkpoint 300, a well-known military checkpoint between Palestine and Israel (Bethlehem and Jerusalem) where Palestinian workers must cue before 5am to enter Jerusalem for work. The degradation of Palestinians is commonplace in the West Bank, and especially at Israeli military checkpoints, but this family faces it all to help themselves and their community.

They are strong, passionate people, the Palestinians. I am grateful to be here and to be learning about their land, their history, their culture, and their struggles. Palestine is as real as my Palestinian hosts. Their story, like the stories of the millions of Palestinians living in the West Bank, deserves to be told. Often, the stories people hear are one-sided or factually inaccurate. They serve the Israeli government or the Palestinian Authority--the powerful, not the people. This is the reality. I am here seeing it. Every day I am living it, and these pictures don't lie. Thank you for acknowledging it.

Checkpoint 300

]]><![CDATA[The Hero's Journey Through Israel and Palestine]]>Mon, 16 Oct 2017 12:37:36 GMThttp://www.kavanahmatters.com/blog/the-heros-journey-through-israel-and-palestine9 minute read

In 2016, the film Disturbing the Peace swept international film festivals. It chronicles the stories of Israeli soldiers and Palestinian fighters who, in 2005 following the second Palestinian Intifada (uprising), put down their arms in exchange for more powerful weapons: trust and optimism.

"You enter the forest at the darkest point where there is no path.”
This quotation by Joseph Campbell opens the documentary. In this context, Campbell, world-renowned mythologist and popularizer of the literary term “monomyth,” was speaking to the concept of the hero’s journey—the path the protagonist must take if they are to achieve their goal of retrieving the ultimate boon for their people; that restorative gift that acts as a catalyst for affecting a positive, social transformation the people so desperately need.

While the conflict between Israel and Palestine is certainly not a myth, the men and women involved in this documentary who are engaged in this harrowing geopolitical struggle relate closely to Campbell’s concept of the monomyth. It is life imitating art which, in turn, imitates life. In brief, the men and women of Combatants for Peace represent the heroes who have elected to leave their ordinary world behind to trek into unfamiliar territory in order to retrieve a boon for their people. In the case of Israel and Palestine, that boon is mutual understanding and an end to the cyclical war that is ruining bodies, devastating lives, and destroying the future of this region.

Campbell’s quotation, not included in the film, continues, "Where there is a way or path, it is someone else's path. You are not on your own path. If you follow someone else's way, you are not going to realize your potential."

The heroes of Combatants for Peace have forged their own path, a path of nonviolent resolutions meant to bridge the two sides through a concerted effort of continual dialogue and aid. The path they elected to take is in stark contrast to the path walked by the naysayers who so obstinately insist peace is not possible. The cynics enter the forest where it is brightest and where the path is clearly marked, “Enter here.” They follow the arrows and do not wander from the trail for the trail is comfortable to them, although it gets darker the further they walk.

While the cynic's path initially appears pleasant, as opposed to the heroes', the hapless travelers are prevented from ever realizing their potential. What's worse, they have no inclination to. They are content with getting from point A to point B in the most convenient fashion, willingly blind to the darkness on the periphery that is slowly enveloping them. For them, all that matters is that they walk the path put before them. They are a sad lot, mostly because they don’t associate their unpleasant circumstances with the choices they themselves have made. Rather, they repeat the same behaviors over and over either expecting that one day the results with be different, or, even worse, they are resigned to the fact that darkness, disharmony, and suffering are a natural way of life here.

It is impossible to write about Israel or Palestine without polarizing one group or another. For some more conservative Zionists, the mere acknowledgment of Palestine or Palestinians is enough to make them disregard your opinion altogether. “There is no such thing as a Palestinian,” you will hear apologists say--an oft-repeated, ill-informed line passed down by generations of Israelis thanks to the out of context quotation issued by former Israeli PM Golda Meir. Of course, such a statement is patently false since not having an officially recognized state does not negate the existence of a people's history or culture. Surely, the Jews (of all nations) can relate to this.

Sadly, the dissonance runs both ways. Some Palestinians openly harbor intense hatred for Jewish Israelis and refuse to accept their right to self-determination. They flatly ignore the history and reality of anti-Semitism and the Nazi slaughter of millions of European Jews which lead them to fight for a country where they would never again be targeted for their otherness. On the other hand, that same right to self-determination that convinced the U.N. to draft Resolution 181 (II) and create Israel seven decades ago has not been afforded to the Arabs of the West Bank and Gaza in any plausible fashion. I say implausible because the deal offered by the U.N demanded that the 1.2 million Palestinians who had lived on the land for generations receive less than half of it (4,500 sq mi.) while 600,000 newly arrived Jews were allotted the majority. The displacement of Palestinians by the immigrating Jews, and the state's refusal (to this day) to allow Palestinians to return home, the Nakba, is an unrecognized chapter in the official Israeli state narrative. The underlying animosity between the two sides is not at all unreasonable.

Clearly, you can also see why so many people ignore the conflict altogether hoping it will resolve itself or one side will give up their autonomy. It is precisely because binational resolutions in this region are so difficult to come by that the Combatants for Peace relate so well to the heroes described by Campbell. For half a day, I walked beside these proponents of peace. I followed them on their journey through the figurative and literal road less traveled, into the West Bank to the little village of Beita just south of Nablus. There, on a stepped olive tree plantation, we harvested olives together, Israeli Jews and Palestinian Arabs, both of whom have laid down their arms and opted to build bridges rather than bombs, friendships rather than walls.

Meeting the Combatants for Peace
At 7:00 am, I met the group in front of the Tel Aviv central bus station. Like before, with the Women Wage Peace, participants trickled in until the 90th minute—a soccer derived saying Israelis use like "The eleventh hour". We boarded the tour bus, our names checked off on an official list, an overview of the day's schedule was given in Hebrew, and we were off! Back to Palestine I went.

This trip was much shorter since Tel Aviv and Nablus are only an hour an half, and one Israeli checkpoint, apart. As we rode east, I reflected on my previous night in Tel Aviv, specifically on a conversation I had with the taxi driver who dropped me at my Airbnb. The man had been quite kind to me. He let me use his cell phone to confirm details with my Airbnb host and even pulled over at a convenience store so I could use an ATM. His English was better than my Hebrew so we used it. We shared the usual small talk between cabbies and passengers, "How long are you here? What are your plans? How do you like my city?" I told him I was only in town for an event, that I was going to harvest olives in the West Bank with a group of Israelis called Combatants for Peace. I told him I participated in the Women Wage Peace march in Jerusalem and was writing about the peace movement in Israel and Palestine. My answers gave him pause and his mood became noticeably darker.

"You think there will be peace here?" He asked me. This is not an unusual question. It has been posed to me on more than one occasion whenever I speak to Israelis about my research. It is a fair question, and one that demands an answer so I gave it, "That's not really up to me is it? I don't live here." He remained quiet for a time, possibly reflecting on my answer, maybe just focusing on the road. Then, he spoke again with a dullness that chilled me, partially because he had been so full of life only a few minutes before, partly because of the cynicism in his tone, "Here, it matters who is more fast, who is more smart. If a man wants to kill me, I wake up the day before and kill him." Then, silence.

Of course, I understood that his "a man" euphemism necessarily meant "an Arab", specifically a Palestinian. My heart was heavy, just as it had been when I saw the concrete barrier wall that separates Israel from the West Bank. I felt embarrassed for him, a grown man so openly jaded and comfortable enough in his racism that he could share it with a complete stranger he had known for all of ten minutes. "What would he divulge if the ride were longer?" I wondered. How much hate does this man harbor for the millions of Muslim and Christian Arabs who share this land? We turned a final corner and drove alongside Gan Hatikva, Garden of Hope in English. My driver's cognitive dissonance astounded me. Here he was making these hateful remarks in a part of the city that only a few decades ago had been home to Palestinian Arabs for generations until, with the help of the British, European Jews founded Tel Aviv on top of Jaffa and began pushing the Arabs out to make way for their Zionist nation-building project. The irony of his misanthropy being revealed by the Garden of Hope was also not lost on me. Finally, we arrived to Moshi'a Street. I paid him for the ride, collected my bags, and wished him a good day.

Harvesting Olives with the Hopeful
Our bus pulled into the little Palestinian village of Beita around 9:00 am. The plan for the day was to help harvest the trees belonging to Abu Fakhri, a Palestinian who joined Combatants for Peace after surviving a gunshot fired by Jewish Israeli settlers from neighboring settlements. The settlers had invaded his lands and killed two other people. I recorded the entirety of his story for posterity. It must never be forgotten. For those who speak Arabic, I am happy to share the video if you ask.

Throughout the morning and afternoon, Israelis and Palestinians of all ages worked together to harvest the plentiful fruit from Abu Fakhri's trees. With everyone working efficiently for 5 hours—minus a break for an amazing Palestinian feast of labneh, hummus, fresh za'atar and olive oil, pita, and falafel—we cleared around 10 trees. It was during our lunch break that the personal accounts were offered by former combatants and those personally affected by Israeli and Palestinian violence. Even more stories are told in the film, Disturbing the Peace, and they too are heartbreaking. The ongoing violence Israel's occupation foments is literally destroying lives. Thank God for the brave souls of Combatants for Peace who have said enough is enough.

Since 2005, these soldiers for peace have refused to participate in the systemic violence that advances a corrupt government, on both sides of the wall, and demands that they see each other as enemies. These heroes do not accept the false narrative that Israel has no partner for peace. They do not accept the false narrative that, in order to define themselves, they must dehumanize the other. Rather, the Combatants for Peace forge ahead constructing a new narrative, a true one based on reality not propaganda. These realities are confirmed with every olive harvest, with every rebuilt home demolished by the Israeli government, with every Memorial Day celebration that acknowledges the pain and tragedy of the Palestinians as well as the Israelis, and with every successful joint venture the former combatants of Israel and Palestine undertake together.

I wish them well on their hero's journey. They are the bravest of the brave to enter the forest where none have tred before. Surely, they will bring the boon of peace to Israel and Palestine and help both sides to finally reach their potential--to live in harmony on the land that promises so much to those willing to work for it.

]]><![CDATA[Hear the Prayer of the Mothers]]>Tue, 10 Oct 2017 14:55:34 GMThttp://www.kavanahmatters.com/blog/hear-the-prayer-of-the-mothers6 minute read

I study peace in the Middle East. My specific area of interest is Israel and Palestine. Why, you may ask, would someone who is not Israeli or Palestinian devote so much time and energy to the region, especially to such a controversial aspect of it? Simple. Because if people don't care, peace will never be achieved. I want to introduce you to some of the most caring human beings on the planet - the incredible, courageous, powerful, and exhausted women of the Women Wage Peace movement. These women are heroes and you deserve to know about them. Founded just three years ago and now boasting tens of thousands of registered members:

Women Wage Peace is a broad-based grassroots movement founded after the Gaza War of 2014 (Operation Protective Edge) and counts among its thousands of members women from the political Right, Center, and Left, Jewish and Arab women, religious and secular women – all of us united in our demand for a political agreement to end the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The movement was born out of deep despair and cynicism which followed our most recent war in Gaza, in order to rekindle hope in a viable future for our region.

Israeli newspaper Haaretz reports, “The founding group numbered about 40 women, who held their first meeting in Tel Aviv, in the midst of the war.” They continue, “To be able to have an impact on decision-makers, the founders of Women Wage Peace understood they would need a critical mass of supporters. To achieve that, they knew they would have to appeal to women way outside their natural base: right-wing Israelis, religious Israelis, even settlers. To appeal to such a large and diverse base, they realized they would have to steer clear of controversy and focus on the issues almost all women could agree on.” The foundational issue? To reach an honorable and bilaterally acceptable political agreement of the Israeli – Palestinian conflict by 2018.

While studying Hebrew over the summer, I learned about Women Wage Peace thanks to a friend who posted this video on our program page. Right away, I reached out to the organizers to let them know of my interest and my willingness to participate in their second annual cross-country (binational) march for peace. This year's march began September 24th and ended October 10th. I secured my plane ticket, a seat on the Women Wage Peace bus for October 8th, and landed in Israel for the first time with the express intention of waging peace with these wonderful women. In the end, the mass demonstration swept the media and made international headlines. This is the story of my experience.

Morning of the march

I arrived to the Haifa pick-up point at 6:30am and watched as women in white began trickling in. They arrived on foot, by car, and by bus, women of all ages. Our seat assignments were checked on the official roster, we loaded our assigned buses, a brief overview was given by our group leaders, and we were off. Destination, the Dead Sea just outside of Jericho in the West Bank.

The journey from Haifa to the Dead Sea took a couple hours and wound us through Jerusalem. This being my first time in the country, I could hardly peel my eyes away from the landscape. I photographed the outskirts of the city and noted the vast differences between Jerusalem and the West Bank, the latter being the zone to which the Palestinians are relegated by the Israeli government. There, they are subjected to military law and regularly face collective punishment such as curfews, searches, checkpoints, and arbitrary detentions.

As the bus rolled on, I stared pitifully at the hideous concrete dividing wall that separates the state of Israel from the military zone that is the West Bank or, if you rather, occupied Palestine. The obtrusive, gray eyesore winds up and around, following the elevation of the desert terrain enclosing behind it the Arabs of Palestine. Tall, concrete buildings huddle together like so many tan Legos; rectangular and uniform with no charm at all. It is hardly a thing to behold, but looking away feels wrong and dismissive. Seeing the checkpoints choked with barbed wire, trucks, and uniforms left me with an overwhelming feeling of heaviness and shame.

As we took the windy road out of Jerusalem, the buildings became fewer and, gradually, the desert filled the landscape. Trees peppered the sandy terrain, stubborn in their greenness. Ten minutes outside of the city to the north and we were soundly in the Judean Desert. I found it impossible not to find beauty in the harshness, wisdom in the ruggedness. The antiquity was palpable. Truly, these ancient hills have seen the best and worst that humanity has to offer.

Arrival to the Dead Sea

Our bus arrived to the Dead Sea around 10:00am, but thousands of women and men, media, police and security officers were already present, not to mention the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). Because the police required that our convoys be no larger than ten buses, the women arrived in waves. There were 60 buses in total coming from every direction; Israel and Palestine.

We descended from the bus, women in white, and gathered under the massive canvas tent that had been erected prior to our arrival. The sound of music filled the desert air - drums, ouds, guitars, women's vocals. There were women in line for water, women on stage, women in drum circles, women sitting and laughing in chairs, children running, men mingling, people exploring and ascending the nearby dunes, and some wandering off alone, presumably to convene with a presence higher than themselves.

Some of the Muslim women donned abayas and hijab, conservative Jewish and Christian women covered their hair, Druze and the nonreligious wore what they pleased, and white Women Wage Peace t-shirts were for sale for all. I purchased one immediately to cover my head and neck from the blazing sun. Hebrew, Arabic, and English were spoken freely by participants on the ground and the organizers on stage. This held true throughout the entirety of the event until its finale at 9:30pm.

The Journey to Peace

We marched to drums that symbolized the beating of our hearts; قلب واحد بالسلام, לב אחד לשלום, one heart for peace. From one tent to the next, we marched through the desert singing songs of peace and hope. Muslims and Jews hand in hand, religious and atheist, secular and spiritual, Arabs and Jews alike, we marched together for the future of the region.

To the Peace Village we stepped, the media following on the periphery, gathering at last at the tent of Sarah and Hagar. There, women satiated their thirst and hunger with the food and water provided. The enormous crowd organically split, some electing to situate themselves near a stage, others congregated on mats to rest, while hundreds more took part in one of the lectures presented by various invited speakers. I chose to listen to a trilingual lecture on reclaiming the narrative of Sarah and Hagar, the mothers of Isaac and Ishmael, respectively.

The message of the lecture was powerfully direct: Each woman had something the other did not, and each failed to triumph over her vice; Sarah's cruelty and Hagar's boastfulness. Unfortunately, their failures haunt us still, yet we must reject the simple conclusion that, as their descendants, we are doomed to a perpetual state of conflict. Rather, the challenge is repairing the opposition between the two, mending the wounds each caused the other. Sarah's precedent of child sacrifice, of sending Ishmael into the desert to perish, cannot be the standard we continue to live by. The children of Sarah and Hagar must rise up together and say enough is enough! !هذا يكفي! מספיק We can no longer accept that the fate of our children is to be sacrificed in unwinnable wars against the other. We, as courageous women with a voice, must take command of our own future and that of the generations ahead. No longer is it acceptable to sit back and let the reckless passivity of men determine our destiny.

To Jerusalem

Our energy high, we rode into Jerusalem ready to take to the streets with our message of peace and solidarity. We arrived shortly before 5:00pm and waited at Agranat Plaza for the thousands of marchers to arrive from around Israel. Sadly, the Palestinian women with whom we marched in the Dead Sea were no longer beside us since Palestinians have extremely restricted access to Israel. Shortly before 6:00pm, we marched again with our signs held high, drums beating, and our voices raised in unison, "Peace is possible!" Our chants and clapping lured people out of their homes to stand on their balconies and on the sidewalk to watch us pass. We drew crowds, some onlookers joined in our procession, most clapped, cameras snapped photos, and flags waved proudly as the demonstration demanded to be seen and heard.

We strode through the city, marching until nightfall, finally coming to rest near the Old City in Independence Park. There, we were gifted with a concert by Yael Deckelbaum and her ensemble, as well as a number of electrified speeches from the group's organizers and women personally affected by the trauma of constant conflict. After the grand finale, thousands of people singing Yael's trademark song, "Prayer of the Mothers," we loaded ourselves back on our buses and headed home to our respective cities. A job well done. Score one for the ladies, one for peace, and one for the children.

Like the women of Israel and Palestine who took part in this epic demonstration on the power of maternity and femininity, after having been a part of this, I can never go back to how I was before. I am forever changed for the better. I am beyond proud of this movement and of the women (and men) who made it possible. We made it quite clear, passivity is no longer an option. Women are on the rise, from the north to the south, from the west to the east. The prayer of the mothers is going to be heard, and the powers that be will be held accountable for effecting lasting changes that ensure the safety of future generations. I was there. I saw it in their eyes. These women are unstoppable. They will continue to wage peace until the Israeli government reopens a dialogue with the Palestinian Authority to get this seven decade conflict resolved.

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]]><![CDATA[My First Few Days in Israel]]>Mon, 09 Oct 2017 16:22:38 GMThttp://www.kavanahmatters.com/blog/my-first-few-days-in-israel5 Minute Read

Israel, day one:

I have been a passenger for the last 19 hours. I caught a flight from Houston to Toronto, then switched planes and headed into to Israel. As I write this sentence, I am riding a train from the Ben Gurion airport in Tel Aviv north to Haifa where I’ll live for the next 3 months in someone else’s home. I have been in Israel for close to 2 hours now and have already met a Trump supporter, witnessed a sporadic shofar blast session, and watched a man berate another much louder man for being obnoxious on his cell phone in public. And, as impressive as it was to hear a ram’s horn being blown just a few feet away from me, in the place that invented blowing rams’ horns no less, the award for "Israeli Who Best Lived Up to My Expectations of What an Israeli Is" goes to "Critical Man on the Train" for his role in "Public Cell Phone Beratement".

Being a train passenger is completely different from being a passenger on an airplane. Firstly, the act of riding a train doesn’t set me into an irrational panic. I am in contact with the earth regardless of the duration or destination. Second, everyone has a window seat. If you’ve ever had the unfortunate luck of being seated on a flight next to a window hog or, worse still, a shade-puller-downer, you know why I mention the beauty of the train window. It’s what makes the train worth using. Without windows, you’re just a weirdo on a junky old machine going unnecessarily slow, usually facing backwards, stopping at places you don’t need to be.

Israel, day two:

I might start logging my entries by miles rather than days. Honestly, I need to start giving my calves a pep talk in the morning before I got out for the day. Today, I’ve walked about 3 miles which doesn’t sound impressive until you factor in Haifa’s terrain. I’ll draw you a picture: ^-v^v--^-v^
So, you see, it’s not the distance so much as the inclines and declines. This city is beautiful, but it makes you work for it. My tasks today included my weekly reading and contribution to a nonviolence and conflict resolution course I’m taking online, getting a tour of Carmel Center by my Airbnb host and her 2-year-old daughter, finding the best pizza in town, learning the numbers for the local buses, and buying essentials (hummus, olive oil, za’atar, and bread).

The tour was lovely. It included a stop off at a local park, Gan Haem, and Hebrew lessons. I have been working on my Hebrew every day, which might sound obvious since I am in Israel, but you truly can get by without Hebrew or Arabic here. English is totally acceptable, Russian works, and (of course) dirty looks always translate. Aside from the park, we had lunch at Bruno Pizza, which my host boasted is the best pizza in the area. I took her word for it and was not disappointed. She did warn me that Haifa has fewer kosher shops than other Israeli cities so I should keep my eyes peeled to make sure I don’t accidentally eat meat. Unfortunately, I don’t know enough Hebrew to appropriately indicate anger, should the need arise, nor have I committed the word “refund” to memory. Basically, that would just be a horrible experience altogether and I hope it never becomes a reality. With kosher pizza shops such an event is impossible since meat and dairy are never served together. The way God intended, according to my kosher friends.

We easily burned off the calories from lunch by walking 2 blocks. Shortly after, I went my own way to go grocery shopping in the only market open on Shabbat: My Market (מאי מרקט). I found my essentials and learned how Israeli supermarkets work. I even spoke entirely in Hebrew the four times I needed to talk to people: Do you have smaller bottles of olive oil? Where’s the za’atar? No, that’s not my basket. Is a credit card okay?

Nailed it.

After my successful market adventure, I walked to the McDonald’s a few blocks/hills away to loiter just long enough to upload some photos, say good morning to my wife back in Texas, and catch up on emails and social media. Oh, did I mention I have no international plan on my cell phone? Turns out my Verizon plan is limited and I need to get a new device before I can purchase an international sim card. So, I get by on free Wi-Fi. I know several good spots already and I haven’t even been here long enough to experience the city when shops are open. Besides, I have enough to pay attention to without being distracted by the chimes and vibrations of my phone. The view of the Mediterranean really is something spectacular. On clear days, I’ve been told it’s possible to see Lebanon.

All week there’s a free film and music festival going on. I looked at the program but I don’t recognize anything or anyone except Balkan Beat Box and A-Wa. Um, that works. Please and thank you. Tomorrow, I will wake up very early to catch a bus to a peace rally at the Dead Sea with Women Wage Peace, a grassroots movement founded after the Gaza War of 2014 (Operation Protective Edge) whose members include women from the political Right, Center, and Left, Jewish and Arab women, religious and secular women – all united to demand a political agreement to end the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I have to be to the right place and on time because I already reserved a seat, but if I’m not there they leave without me. Then, I’d have to figure out how in the world to get from Haifa’s central bus station to their Dead Sea "Peace Village". I promise you that seditious site doesn’t pop up on Google Maps. From the Dead Sea, we head into Jerusalem and carry on with the peace waging.

Tomorrow is going to be a powerful day.

Israel, day four:

Yesterday was a very powerful day. It actually deserves its own post, not an entry within a larger post. For that reason, I’m opting to share pictures and videos here but you can expect a separate post on the march. I woke up at 5:15 to take a local bus to the Haifa "Markez Kongressim" (basically a giant mall) and wait for the larger bus booked by Women Wage Peace. Around 7:00, the tour bus arrived, our names checked on the roster, and we made our way toward the Dead Sea in the West Bank. These photos are from that trip and include the march near the Dead Sea as well as the march through the streets of Jerusalem. The march concluded in Jerusalem's Independence Park at 21:15 and arrived back to my apartment at 01:00.

The protest was kind of a big deal. We made the news in a few places, namely Haaretz and Al Jazeera. I would say that the organizers deserve the Nobel Peace Prize, but they seem to give that out to some pretty shady characters these days. No, these women are true promoters of peace and I could not be more proud to have stood beside them yesterday.

UPDATE: The organization was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize in 2023

]]><![CDATA[Fear of Flying]]>Fri, 06 Oct 2017 05:00:00 GMThttp://www.kavanahmatters.com/blog/fear-of-flying6 Minute Read

Is it ironic or just cruel that I enjoy traveling so much while having a crippling fear of flying? I haven’t decided yet. Maybe it’s both. I am flying from Texas to Tel Aviv today, a journey I've wanted to take since I learned about Israel way back when I was a devout Christian. Despite wanting so badly to visit Israel and Palestine, to see this ethereal place that has existed to me only in religious texts, the news, and political discourse, I am absolutely dreading the flight with every bit of my insides…and outsides. But, this time, as I told my wife self-assuringly, I have a solution to my intense, paralyzing fear of take-offs. This time, I will very literally write my fear away.

I haven’t always been like this, a stupid sloppy mess of a passenger, mumbling nonsense to myself and jolting upright in my seat anytime the plane loses altitude or makes a slight directional shift. I consider myself a rather reasonable person. I make informed decisions more often than not, I don’t take unnecessary risks (unless the payout is worth it), I respect human ingenuity and the training of the pilots, I trust that the designers and engineers of this particular aircraft took the appropriate steps to construct a flying machine that will, indeed, stay in the air for as long as I paid for it to be airborne. All of that is a reasonable approach to take to flying, I think. I also factor in airplane crash statistics compared to car crash statistics. Flying is the safest mode of transportation, the odds of dying are 1 in 11 million, yadda yadda yadda (somebody has to be the poor 1 sometimes). Somehow, however, no amount of rationalizing or leveling with myself satiates my fear demons. Those little bastards pop up without fail every time I buckle myself into my seat and prepare for departure.

It starts with the deep breathing. But, you see, this method is really just a pitiful attempt to calm myself through some variation of Lamaze breathing I’ve concocted for myself based on sitcoms throughout the years (Friends especially). It is quite ineffective. Sometimes I even incorporate the little paper baggie the airline provides in case you become airsick. I have never been airsick. My problem is the taxiing, the take-off, sometimes the landing, and always the turbulence. Maybe, what I have would more fittingly be called transition sickness.

After the breathing fails me, I rock for a bit, ever so slightly. That exercise is typically combined with a body lock or, for fun, the Fear Freeze! where I close my eyes super tight and try to become one with my seat back. Please know that I do honestly try to maintain my dignity to the fullest extent possible while I am going through these panic maneuvers. You know, just in case we actually do survive the flight and I have to see these people again outside of the fuselage. I will also have you know that, while I do make several jerky motions for a few minutes while we’re gaining altitude, and I probably unnecessarily worry my rowmates, I really do go out of my way not to make noise while I’m sobbing. There truly is nothing worse than a rude passenger who won’t stop whimpering and vibrating while they wait for death to finally reach out and grasp them in its cold, disaffected fingers. I know this.

Once we’re actually in the air, 30,000 feet above the ground and everyone I care about, the panic begins to dissipate. Where there was gripping fear, a new feeling sets in. This is me coming to terms with my eventual death-by-plane. I have discovered that, for me, flying is sort of like going through the 5 stages of grief, but in rapid succession. There’s denial: The flight is nothing. I’m a grown, reasonable adult who has seen combat. I am sure I will conquer my fear of flying this go around. Then, there’s anger: Why am I like this?! It’s so damn embarrassing. Bargaining: I will buy myself a book or this fancy magazine and that will surely distract me from the inevitable onset of terror. I skip right past depression, mostly because no flight lasts that long. That said, if I were forced to face my fear with greater frequency, and my livelihood depended on my ability to fly, I do believe I would slip into a serious state of chronic depression.

In the end, I always land on acceptance. I accept that there is nothing I can do about technical problems mid-flight, that there is a pilot and co-pilot who will do everything in their power to prevent the plane from falling out of the sky, and I accept that I am an irreparable control freak who can’t stand placing my life in someone else’s hands, even for an incredibly standard non-event like flying through the air at 600mph in a big, metal tube.

]]><![CDATA[Class Release Program?]]>Tue, 19 Sep 2017 22:58:49 GMThttp://www.kavanahmatters.com/blog/class-release-programEarlier this week, when I arrived to my temporary job at Lowe’s, one of my coworkers and I got to talking about my upcoming trip to Israel and Palestine. She asked why I am going and what I study. She asked about my studies and where my academic interests lie. After hearing my answers, she hit me with the question, “What the heck are you doing working at Lowe’s!?” Of course, what she really meant was, “why are you wasting your time here? Can’t you be making money somewhere or at least doing something less physically demanding and more fulfilling?” In response, I just smiled and nodded. I didn’t really know what else to say. So, this piece is my attempt to address her question.

In May of this year, I graduated from UT Austin with an M.A in Middle Eastern Studies. My next step is to apply to a PhD program to continue my research on conscientious objectors in Israel. In the meantime, since being a professional student has been how I earn money, I’ve had to come up with alternate means of making a living. Naturally, I turned to my roots: blue collar labor. I have been working odd jobs for the last month or so, walking dogs, driving Lyft, helping out on construction sites, assembling retail products, moving furniture, I even held a giant sign on the side of the interstate for a mattress store’s Labor Day sale. Boring as hell, but I got a great tan!

Being back in my natural habitat, so to speak, with the working-class folks, the people who wear boots and get dirty, who make things with their hands and know how to operate machinery, has been…nice. It feels comfortable. Plus, it’s glorious not having a set schedule and not feeling the pressure of deadlines. For those who follow me on Instagram, over the last month or so, you’ve had the privilege of seeing some of the jobs I’ve been assigned. For my friends who only know me from university, I probably seem out of my element at times, wearing a hard hat and an orange construction vest. Funnily enough, this could not be further from the truth. You see, I’ve only been passing as a member of the middle class.

I am working-class. When I was 15, I got my first job sweeping and mopping the dining area of a family-owned BBQ restaurant, Dan’s BBQ. By the time I turned 16, Wally bought Dan’s and the joint became Wally’s BBQ. My new bosses promoted me to Assistant Manager and put me on deliveries. I learned all about the art of brewing barbecue sauce, and the difference between lean and marbled brisket (the latter is fatter). Soon after, I left my short-lived career in the restaurant business and began an apprenticeship with my father. Throughout high school, I worked with him as a cable technician installing CAT III/V and fiber optics in schools, homes, and businesses around the country. During my senior year, I opted for a GED and began working as a telephone and cable technician full-time. I found a startup company looking to grow, and they put me in charge of the Central Texas region. I traveled quite a bit, often visiting several cities a day working different trouble-tickets and installs. After a while, that company relocated me to Austin, TX. I lived on S. 1st St. just north of Ben White. I paid $645 a month for my little one-bedroom on the second floor. This was 2002.

I earned my living as a cable and phone technician until I was 20. And that’s when I joined the Army; my second career. I don’t want to spend a lot of time reflecting on my military career. I was a military police officer (31B, for those who speak Army) with a specialty as a criminal investigator (V5). Chronologically, I lived in Fort Hood, TX.; Kuwait; Iraq (back to Texas then back to Iraq); Mannheim, Germany; Fort Stewart, Georgia; Kuwait; Iraq. I lost quite a few good friends and a lot of people I didn’t know well or at all. In one deployment, my gunner and my roommate were killed by a roadside bomb, and our second platoon’s lieutenant was killed by a sniper. During a convoy on my final deployment, my squad (I was the Squad Leader at the time) was struck by a roadside bomb. I petitioned for one of my soldiers to receive a Purple Heart for injuries he sustained during the explosion. He did.

In 2011, I decided I was finished with the military -- finished with the United States government altogether, actually. I had been working with C.I.D. (Army F.B.I.) for the last 3 years and had spent a significant amount of time around the dregs of military society. But, I also worked side-by-side with college-educated soldiers and Department of the Defense contractors. That caused me to become interested in school, and I earned an Associate’s degree majoring in Criminal Justice (the system is totally broken, btw). Despite being accepted to C.I.D. school, I decided not to reenlist to become a Special Agent. After three deployments, an entirely altered worldview, and nearly a decade of having to hide my homosexuality for fear of being dishonorably discharged, I left the military, moved to Mobile, AL., and began my third career: university student.

At this point, the entirety of my job history could be considered blue collar. Okay, technically nine years were green collar, but you get the idea. I am from a working-class family and I was raised a working-class gal. In both of my careers, my uniform contained boots and tool belt. My belt just transformed a few times in the military, from patrol belt to tactical belt to gun holster. Hey, it counts! So, it was only natural that the jobs I held while I earned by Bachelor’s degree would be blue collar, too. I cleaned offices, did handy-work, and I worked at Lowe’s. Oh, and based on my few years with the company, working at Lowe’s is sort of a rite of passage for some 75% of American lesbians. There are seriously so many lesbians at Lowe’s it’s almost silly, but damnit if they don’t know their way around a hardware store!

I should also mention that I met my wife while I was working at Lowe’s. She didn’t work there, believe it or not, but I was employed by the company at the time. My wife and I met online. We found out via the Internet that we lived only a couple blocks away from one another. We’ve pretty much been inseparable since our first date. She’s actually helping me type this. I’m just kidding. But she did come with me from Alabama after I was accepted to graduate school in Austin. She also stuck with me through every grueling semester of graduate school, summers included, in spite of my short temper, emotional breakdowns, and wonky sleeping patterns. As I write this, I am 3 weeks away from saying goodbye to her so I can go to Israel and Palestine on an independent research and writing trip. A journey partly for personal edification and partly to strengthen and supplement my PhD application.
Ahh, my PhD application! Finally, the culminating event in my story that makes my last career change worthwhile. So, why haven’t I started the application? That, my friend, is an excellent question and it deserves an answer. So, here it is: I don’t think I can pass anymore. I genuinely do not know that I have it in me to pretend I belong somewhere my gut tells me I don’t. The same thing happened in the Army. Gradually, I felt more and more like I didn’t belong and like I was just going through the motions.

Please keep in mind, I have been in academia for the last six years. During the last two, I dedicated myself to transforming into a professional academic. I got pretty okay at it. I attended some conferences, wrote some strong papers, held conversations with some brilliant people, and learned a few new things, including Arabic and Hebrew. I had wonderful experiences and met people who continue to impress me with their talent and perseverance. I can’t even begin to express the gratitude I have for the people who supported me with scholarships. The professors and graduate students who listened to my ideas, especially those who helped me shape them or told me to let them go. I had the opportunity to teach, to interview, to tutor, to learn, to mentor, to pontificate, to debate, to flounder, to shine. It was an exceedingly rewarding experience that I will never forget or regret. I just don’t know if I can keep it up. I don’t know if it is who I am, and that is part of why I am taking such an extended trip to the Middle East. I need to recollect my thoughts and, in the words of Fergie, be with myself and center, peace, serenity…

But, I want to return now to my Lowe’s coworker’s question because I think it raises some important issues that deserve to be confronted. What was actually being said when she questioned my presence at Lowe’s? Is it assumed that because I have a graduate degree I am above retail? Is she saying I am above her? Or perhaps she was implying that I am wasting my time or merely settling for retail when I could be off conquering the world with my humanities degree. Whichever way you slice it, her question seems to indicate that retail, blue collar, is below me somehow. But…is it? And, if it is, does that mean people who work in retail, the working-class, are also below me? I certainly don’t think of it in that way. I am working-class, after all. Always have been. Still, for two years, I did put my blue collar away and tried to pass as a card carrying, white-collar wearing member of the middle class. It didn’t stick.

Some may ask, what was the purpose of getting an M.A. if I was just going to wind up back in my blue-collar? Why didn’t I go to trade school or stay in the military? Believe me, I asked myself the same questions. Well, I didn’t ask myself why I left the army. I don’t regret that for a second. But, why not vocational school or a business degree? Well, when it came down to it, I wanted a graduate degree because I was curious. I had the means to go to school and study history and philosophy so I did. I fell in love with school, with learning. I fell in love with writing and reading, but I never fell out of love with working with my hands, with creating, repairing, and building. So, what’s a girl to do?

It makes me wonder why our society doesn’t have a system in place that affords white collar, business professionals, and academics the opportunity to get their hands dirty. Switch it up now and then. Step away from the office for a year or so and mix concrete on the side of the highway. Do some flagging, fix a phone line, clean a barbecue pit, assemble some faucets…anything! Why should there be a stigma against degree holders getting grimy and using our muscles? Why should someone like me, from the working-class, feel the need to pass while earning a degree? I belong there just as much as the next person. Sadly, it does not feel that way. And this is why I’d welcome a program that allows class transitions of the sort I’ve described. Call it a Class Release Program. Why not step out of your loafers and into someone else’s work boots for a bit? You don’t have to stay, but you might want to. Of course, this system works both ways; Florsheims feel nicer than Caterpillars to some. And if you don’t know what Caterpillars are, you might be a perfect candidate for my Class Release Program.

If nothing else, consider my proposal as a way to conduct a widescale exercise in empathy; a way to help us relate to one another. It’s pretty undeniable that our country’s social cohesion leaves much to be desired as of late. Now, I am not telling you to quit your job and start all over, but I am not telling you to not do that either. What I am telling you is this: having a graduate degree and being a part of the working- class is not an oxymoron. There is no shame in getting your hands dirty, nor is there any shame in preferring a cozy office. You want to know what is shameful? Pigeonholing people and judging them based on their social status, career choice, or education level. Anyway, who doesn’t want to live in a world where the person selling you lumber has a position on Rawlsian justice? Office fridge on the blink? No problem. Jan in accounting is a member of ioAST.

So, I guess now I can finally answer my coworker. What the heck am I doing working at Lowe’s?
Enjoying myself.

]]><![CDATA[Violence, Authoritarianism, and the Future of America: Using Science to Progress Past Tribalism]]>Sun, 20 Aug 2017 20:45:19 GMThttp://www.kavanahmatters.com/blog/violence-authoritarianism-and-the-future-of-america-using-science-to-progress-past-tribalismMy specific area of interest is state authority, ethics, and civil disobedience. Because I admire the political theories of Hannah Arendt, I heed her warnings and advise anyone who considers themselves an active citizen to follow world news closely. More important than merely keeping up with events, however, is a citizen’s obligation to see the process through. Citizens are active, not passive. They participate in the state system because they are very much an integral component of its function. To be a passive citizen is to allow the banal evil of authoritarianism to creep into our political system. As Arendt so correctly opined, “The sad truth is that most evil is done by people who never make up their minds to be good or evil.” Thus, evil arises because men and women become complacent. They stop caring. When they are comfortable, they become lazy in mind and body. They do what is easiest rather than what is effective. The alternative to allowing evil to creep into our society? Be an active citizen.

So how can you become an active citizen? It isn’t difficult. You just have to give a damn. Active citizens consciously identify with a set of principles and choose an ideological path that helps to guide them in their decision making. In the words of Desmond Tutu, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.” In other words, staying out of it and avoiding choosing a side doesn’t makes you wise or noble. What it makes you is complicit in the reemergence of a very real and known evil: authoritarianism.

Active citizens must take the time to learn the foundational tenets of a given ideology before ascribing to it and committing to speak for it. Identifying with an ideology is a thoughtful process, and to be an inactive citizen is a contradiction in terms. People who opt out of the political process by not voicing their informed opinions, by not taking to the streets with a purpose, by not vying to have their message heard, passively contribute to the potentiality of evil taking root in their political system. Thoughtlessness leads to authoritarianism. Historically, authoritarianism leads to genocide and slaughter. Thanks in part to the dedication of social scientists and historians, we have the tools to prevent a reemergence of state-sponsored terror at the hand of bigots, racists, and xenophobes.
If no one has told you, we are battling a potential populist takeover and now is the time to take action…non-violently.

The Reemergence of Right-Wing Populism and Tribal Terror

Active citizens who oppose Nazis and white supremacists are currently waging war against neo-Nazis, the KKK, and other right-wing groups trying desperately to gain ground in the U.S. political system. Through his leadership, Trump has passively allowed, and sometimes blatantly permitted, those ideologically analogous to Hitler’s National Socialism, and similar fascist movements, to feel comfortable in publicizing their opinions. While these right-wing groups are certainly entitled to the same protections of free speech as the next American citizen, what they are not entitled to is a platform or an audience. Sadly, because of his thoughtlessness and ineptitude, Trump has provided the populist right with the tools they need to get their message of hate on the airwaves and into the mainstream media. The problem with this? Thoughtless citizens who lack the ability to think critically or engage history accept populist rhetoric as fact and identify with a system of hate and oppression. This is especially frightening when one considers the social science behind it.

Young minds are easily moldable and tribalism is a very real thing. In is piece entitled “How Tribalism Overrules Reason, and Makes Risky Times More Dangerous” Harvard’s David Ropeik claims that:
Tribalism is pervasive, and it controls a lot of our behavior, readily overriding reason. Think of the inhuman things we do in the name of tribal unity. Wars are essentially, and often quite specifically, tribalism. Genocides are tribalism - wipe out the other group to keep our group safe – taken to madness. Racism that lets us feel that our tribe is better than theirs, parents who end contact with their own children when they dare marry someone of a different faith or color, denial of evolution or climate change or other basic scientific truths when they challenge tribal beliefs. What stunning evidence of the power of tribalism!”

Vulnerable young people, more often males between 15 and 24, are looking to belong and willingly commit heinous acts in order to be welcomed into an in-group. Speaking largely to groups like ISIS and other organizations promoting radical Islamic political violence, Counter-terrorism expert Thomas Koruth Samuel recently wrote on the lure of youth to terrorism. He stated:
"Structured and deliberate strategies have been formulated by terrorists to radicalise and recruit young people into committing acts of violence. The advantages in targeting the youths into joining terrorists groups are many and terrorists are displaying increased capability and capacity in enlisting them. This coupled with the growing exploitation of technology such as the Internet has allowed the terrorists a far and wide reach."

But ISIS is not the only terrorist organization relying on frustrated youth to carry out their political violence. Take the recent publication by the Southern Poverty Law Center on lone wolf political violence in the United States. Like Thomas Koruth Samuel asserts, “When there are few opportunities to break out of the cycle of poverty, perceived or real, injustice and despair, there is a greater tolerance for violence.” Similarly, according to SPLC, young terrorists see violence as “the only answer for addressing their grievances.” Political violence, such as on August 12th when a right-wing populist used his vehicle as a weapon to kill 32 year old Heather Heyer, is pragmatic tribalism employed strategically for the purpose of effecting socio-political change. The young man who killed Heather Heyer fits the typology described by counter-terrorism experts studying the correlation between youth and political violence. What can we do with this data? Behavioral science offers solutions to prevent and control political violence. There are patterns of behavior which we, as active citizens, can recognize. We should not ignore the power of science to tackle this problem of tribe-inspired political violence on the right or the left of the political spectrum.

Using Science to Stop Political Violence

“When somebody’s ideas are just a platform of literally murdering people outright, I really don't care to have a lot of discussion about the matter. And when they're out actively recruiting others to their side and forming gangs and mobs, I'm going to follow in the footsteps of my grandfather, and punch some fascist.”

This is a common response I see from liberal progressives discussing how best to respond to the alt-right. I can completely sympathize with my friends who want to deck a right-wing populist. I was in the military for nine years. I grew up watching rugby and playing contact sports. I know violence against your opponent, against bullies and bad guys, feels good, it feels justified, it feels final. The problem with punching neo-Nazis, however, goes way beyond a question of ethics, although ethics certainly enter into the debate. But, as an unemployed student of philosophy, I know normative ethics don’t win the day. Ethics aren't persuasive enough. That’s why I am citing science instead to argue against relying on violence to curb the advancement of right-wing populism.

The Christian Science Monitor recently published an article entitled, “Why are there still Nazis? These eight question can help explain.” In his well-informed piece, Eoin O’Carroll shared a social theory we’ve known about since the 1990s: Social Dominance Theory. “Social dominance theory seeks to explain how hierarchy-enhancing ideologies do not just drive social inequality, but are also a result of it. It suggests that a single personality trait, called social dominance orientation (SDO), strongly predicts a person’s political and social views, from foreign policy and criminal justice to civil rights and the environment. What's more, it offers insight into how ideologies such as racism, sexism, and xenophobia tend to arise from the unequal distribution of a society's resources.”
O’Carroll (follow him on Twitter) summarizes the theory wonderfully, “People with high SDO scores are more likely to believe that women and men are naturally different and should have different workplace roles. They are more likely to accept theories of racial superiority and to believe that their country is inherently better than other countries. They tend to oppose lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender rights; affirmative action; interracial marriage; and social welfare programs. They tend not to call themselves environmentalists. They tend to support military action overseas and the death penalty at home. They tend to believe in capitalism and that the world is basically just. And they are more likely to choose ‘hierarchy enhancing’ careers such as law enforcement, military, business, and politics.”

What does that translate to? People believe what they believe because they are biologically inclined to do so. We discovered this behavioral trait through our use of reason and our implementation of the scientific process. I argue that perhaps through continued study and eventual understanding of this psychological phenomenon, as opposed to perpetuating ineffective violent conflict (punching neo-Nazis), we can improve our society rationally by applying scientific methods and reason.

According to Felicia Pratto, one of the scientists who developed the theory, there is scientific data to support the possibility of a person with a high SDO trait changing his or her social attitudes. “There are people who mentally practice being egalitarian, so that what they do habitually when confronted with a stimulus that they know might provoke prejudice is to associate a good feeling with it, or bring to bear their egalitarian values…People can do this so much that they eventually become automatic at doing it.” What does that mean? Neo-Nazis can change!

Regarding the effectiveness of non-violence and the science behind its success, I cite Erica Chenowith, Professor at the Josef Korbel School of International Studies at the University of Denver. She recently published an article elucidating the effectiveness of non-violence in civil protest and disobedience in Southeast Asia over 100+ years, “The central contention of this study is that nonviolent resistance methods are likely to be more successful than violent methods in achieving strategic objectives.” I invite you to engage her work and to consider the arguments against the lasting effectiveness of violence put forth by Professor Noam Chomsky and Hannah Arendt back in 1967.

In this piece, “The Legitimacy of Violence as a Political Act”, Dr. Chomsky reasonable stated, “It seems to me, from the little we know about such matters, that a new society rises out of the actions that are taken to form it, and the institutions and the ideology it develops are not independent of those actions; in fact, they’re heavily colored by them, they’re shaped by them in many ways.” This harks back to the SDO theory: you are what you practice. If you practice violence, you will embrace violence. If you practice reasonable decision-making, you will be a reasonable decider. That goes for individuals as well as for societies. The summary of that debate was as follows: “If violence could be shown to lead to the overthrow of lasting suppression of human life that now obtains in vast parts of the world, that would be a justification for violence. But this has not been shown at all, in my view.”

So, according to every well-informed and highly respected social scientist I have listed up to this point, political violence does not work. It only perpetuates a useless and devastating cycle of tribalism.

Why Not Embrace Science? Stop Kicking the Can Down the Road!

The human brain is an incredibly complex organ, and our behavior is a result of how that organ functions. For this reason, it is critical for us to apply our hard-earned knowledge of science in order to progress our society. And why shouldn’t we take full advantage of the science we've worked so hard to be able to use? The Enlightenment gave us the scientific process. Men and women died for the sake of scientific progress in the face of primitivism and tradition. Olivia Solon (follow her on Twitter) wrote an article treating the topic of scientists persecuted throughout history: “Galileo to Turing: The Persecution of Scientists Throughout History”. The same logic that demanded the persecution of scientists now demands the perpetuation of violence to effect social change.

I entreat you to ask yourself why, in 2017, do we still resort to violence and tribalism? We live in a time completely unique from any period in history ever. People are educated, have access to information, and can openly practice science. We finally have the tools to affect actual positive, systematic change yet we rely on the methods of the generations before. Why? I mean that in a non-rhetorical way. Really ask yourself, if you are an active citizen, why do you value science in some aspects of society but reject it when it goes against your preferred narrative and worldview? Is that truly progressive?

If you have any faith in the market at all, you'll let it work. Google and Go Daddy are already removing supremacist websites and taking away their platform. So too are universities. Texas A&M canceled Spencer's planned hatefest on September 11th. This is effective action. The majority of people realizing, collectively, that the hate and ignorance being spread by the alt-right and neo-Nazis is exactly that: hate and ignorance not worth entertaining. Take the words of Amy Smith, Texas A&M’s executive VP for Marketing and Communication. “His views and those of the group he represents are counter to the core values of Texas A&M…While he has the right of free speech, so too do we have the right to refute those views and get on with the daily business of a world-class university.” I hope Amy dropped the mic after that statement.

Exchanging ideas, educating, fostering open dialogue, but knowing when to dismiss hateful rhetoric that serves no benefit to people as a whole, that is a progressive society. Logic holds, if you accept one case of censorship, or accept one case where violent retribution is permitted, you've set a precedent for the entirety of the social contract to collapse. Chomsky stated the same in 1967. Of course, this logic applies in both directions, from the right and the left, and state-sponsored or mob-induced censorship is not a slope we should be willing to slide down.

If you examine the evidence of history and social science, an ideological movement dies when people lose interest in it. Ideas do not fade away when violence is used to force the idea into submission. History reveals such tactics never work for more than a few years. I'd rather not kick the can of nationalism and racial supremacy further down the road for the next generation to have to deal with. Why should we when we can apply reason, neuroscience, and psychology to squash this garbage now…in this generation.

The discussion isn't necessarily meant to be directed toward alt-right bigots. They've proven themselves unreasonable. So, too have members of Antifa who insist on inciting violence during protests despite the evidence that their strategy is counter-productive and divisive. Sadly, asserting that fact about Antifa upsets a lot of progressives, which is odd because it isn’t an irrational position to hold. It is 100% grounded in science and substantiated with evidence by experts who study political violence, civil disobedience, and authority for a living. But, to revisit Social Dominance Theory, people can change their views, even desperate political terrorists who embrace violence. You just have to show them how to practice non-violent civil disobedience and discourse. This is why we need a national conversation to recognize the problem of tribalism. We need to resolve this primitive habit of resorting to violence, collectively, like reasonable people. We must demonstrate our valuation of progress by implementing the tools we finally have at our disposal to overcome our tribal nature and primitive history.

It boggles the mind why so many progressives reject antiquity and outdated methods of social behavior when it comes to religion and patriarchy, but they except violence and tribalism. Why? Perhaps because it feels good to know you’re on the right side of history and to feel like you are making a difference. Because if it was good enough for your grandfather to punch a Nazi, it’s good enough for you! But this isn’t 1945. This is 2017. We live in a different period of time with unique socio-political factors not analogous to World War II. People punching neo-Nazis and KKK members feel justified because they feel they aren’t letting history repeat. They’re doing something about it!

I get that. But step back and look at the evidence, friend.

When you use violence against a person who hasn't attacked you, you are not helping anyone except the opposition. If you don’t believe that, listen to the Nazis themselves! In the incredibly important and watchable VICE documentary, the openly supremacist Christopher Cantwell plainly stated, “We don’t have the camaraderie, we don’t have the trust level that our rivals (the left) do. And that camaraderie and trust is built up through activism, and that is one of the tactics we’re adopting.” That translates to, “we are putting boots on the ground to unite our cause, and the more justified we feel in protesting, the stronger we become.” Cantwell continues to elaborate on why he considers the murder of Heather Heyer to be justified, “The video appears to show someone striking [Alex Fields’] vehicle. Then these animals attack him again and he saw no way to get away from them except to hit the gas…and I think it was more than justified.”

Let’s use our deductive reasoning and translate that: Without the violence used against the vehicle that struck Heather Heyer, the death of Heather Heyer becomes unjustified. This, according to the neo-Nazis themselves. So, if we remove the violence from the equation, the alt-right has no justification to commit violence against their ideological opponents. None.

How does a group (any group) become more united? Through shared hardship and trauma. Following this example to its logical conclusion: Using violence against the right gives the right something to rally around and forges in them a stronger bond.

Listen to the experts. They agree. Science and history reiterate that committing violence to mute an idea only strengthens your opposition. You cannot beat an idea into submission. You can reason with it though. Non-violence works. Violence, on the other hand, is a temporary solution that feels good in the moment but ultimately damns future generations to relive what you were too impatient and unwilling to resolve through reason in your own time. In short, what you are doing is irrational and doesn’t actually put you on the right side of history. It makes you primitive, irrational, and incredibly selfish.

You want to shut up the alt-right and deny a platform to right-wing populists? Be an active citizen. Protest. Show up. Shout. Be thoughtful. Be heard. Be seen. Make a human wall. Lay on the ground. Use art. Dance. Pray. Be reasonable. Embrace science. Give a damn. But don't commit violence if you actually want to resolve this very serious problem we are facing. Violence sets a precedent for more violence, and so on. Kicking the can down the road...]]>