We are people, too

Letters

Editor: A number of years ago, during a stint in the Israel army reserves, I was posted at one of the bridges over the Jordan River. It was my unit's responsibility to examine the travellers coming from Jordan prior to their entry into Israel and the disputed territories in order to prevent contraband from entering the country, especially detonators.

As our commanding officer remarked, "Remember, if a bomb goes off due to your negligence, it may also mean the life of your wife and children." His comments had an instantaneous effect upon us and, although the temperature in the Jordan Valley in August hovered around the 50 degree mark and hordes of flies added to our discomfort, we meticulously examined each and every traveller, their documents, baggage and personal effects and performed body searches when necessary.

At one point, while going through the process, a young lady shouted at me, "We are people too, you know!"

Her anger and discomfort were apparent, and the words were penetrating. For many years, during my more liberal period, I couldn't shake her cry and my feeling at that time echoed her frustration and agony. Peace was a necessity and I was convinced that it was within the realm of possibility, at least within the next few years.

I firmly believed that we had reached a point in our relationship with our Arab cousins where we no longer would control their destiny, but could live side by side, two separate people sharing a common land and history. I felt that the agreements reached by the Palestinian Authority through Yasser Arafat would finally bear fruit and that we really had a partner for peace.

The cry of that young woman melted into nothingness in October 2000, when two of our soldiers, who had lost their way, were brutally lynched. The elation by the populace and those who had actually perpetrated this sadistic act has been permanently etched in my mind.

The intifada was born and with it, a change in my attitude. No more did I hear that young women crying to me, "We are people, too!" Slowly but surely, after many months of increased conflict and the increased loss of life in the civilian population, my liberalism and socialist thinking gave way to a distinct hard line. I can no longer believe in the ability of Arafat to make peace. I no longer believe in Arafat's commitment to peace, evident in his refusal to honor signed agreements. Arafat's rhetoric only proves once more that the goal is not only that of a Palestinian state, but the complete destruction of Israel.

I lost faith in the Israeli Arabs, the majority of whom not only approve of the intifada, but support it in many other ways. This is borne out by articles and polls that have been carried out over the last few years. As citizens of Israel, I had expected a certain degree of loyalty, while understanding their feelings and their frustration with respect to our problem with their kinsmen. The actions of Arab members of the Knesset only showed me that we had a "fifth column" in our midst.

Yes, it's now my turn to cry out, "We are people too, you know!"

We don't educate our children to hate. We don't revel in the death of innocent civilians. We don't shoot our guns in the air to celebrate an Arab death. We don't march in the streets to celebrate massacres. We don't have the support of a United Nations with a built-in Arab majority. We don't have the support of the Europeans with their anti-Semitic attitudes. We don't use humans with bombs attached to commit suicide and kill innocent people.

What we do have is the will to survive and the will to live in peace. What we want is to take our place in the Middle East as a recognized partner for the sake of all. What we want is a democratic region, where social and economic conditions will be the right of every individual.

When will this happen? When Arabs will begin to live in peace with each other and recognize the rights of the individual. Until then, we have no choice but to defend ourselves and remain strong, not only against our immediate neighbors but, if need be, against the world.
We are people too, you know.

Moshe Sheskin
Kibbutz Hulda
Former executive director of JPPS and Bialik high school in Montreal

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