“I went to East Jerusalem with my 19-year-old daughter to grab a bite after her entrance exams to Bezalel [a renowned art school]. She was wearing a vest and her shoulders were bare. People stared at her in such a manner that we dashed out quickly… we forgot that you don’t dress like that here.” Jihad Abu Al-‘A’sal, secretary of the Balad party in Nazareth and manager of the “identity summer-camp” for children, illustrates differences of culture between Israeli Arabs and those living in the disputed territories.
A colorful ad on an Internet-site for Israeli Arabs (www.arabs48.com) caught my eye. At the top it read Identity Camp: national culture, arts and leisure.
To explain my curiosity I will step back to my own personal experience – when I was young I went to summer-camp. I remember swimming, playing basketball and playing with modeling clay. I was aware of my identity without needing additional guidance. I was born in Ra’anana, an ordinary town near Tel Aviv, and so I was a Ra’anani. When pressed against a wall, I would recall I was also Israeli, and a Jew. Thus, without many complications, a crystal clear and simple identity.
That is why the rather unusual phrase ‘identity camp’ caught my eye.
However, the contents of the ad immediately clarified why this is not such strange wording after all. It was a summer-camp for Israeli-Arab children, residents of Nazareth, which is located in northern Israel within the Green Line.
A brief clarification – Israeli Arabs are Palestinians who remained within the borders of Israel after the state was established in 1948. They remained in their towns and villages while hundreds of thousands of other Palestinians fled their homes [the circumstances of this remain a subject of debate]. The Israeli-Arab identity has acquired many components since, some of which are practically impossible: they were a part of the large Arab nation, then Palestinians, then Muslims (and a Christian minority) and finally – Israelis.
Fifty-five years later, I visited a summer-camp for 6-12 year olds. Although there were games, swimming, and excursions around the city, alongside these were discussions, workshops and films, all related to the issue of their complex identity.
The manager of the camp is Jihad Abu Al-‘A’sal.
Abu Al-‘A’sal, an electronics engineer by profession, is the secretary of the Balad party in Nazareth, a party with three Knesset Members in the current parliament. He was born in 1948 (a significant date to be related to shortly). I asked Abu Al-‘A’sal how he defines his identity. His answer was swift and unequivocal: “I am an Arab, a citizen of the state of Israel.”
“What about your being Palestinian?” I pressed.
“I am an Arab, son of the Arab nation, and also Palestinian, of the Palestinian nation,” he responded.
“And what about your religion?” I continued. “Our slogan at Balad is that religion is secondary. The Arab nationality comes first, followed by being a part of Israel.”
“Children at the camp should know they are Arabs, Palestinians and Israelis. They must preserve their identity, while being a part of the country in which they reside. We teach them not to alienate themselves from the state,” he added. “Israeli Arabs feel they are partners in building the state of Israel. We built your homes, we helped the Israeli economy even when
Israel was engaged in war. This is why it hurts us that Israel is deserting us and treating us in a racist manner.”
Throughout our talk, this sense of discrimination was repeatedly evident in Abu Al-‘A’sal’s statements. “Israel’s leaders must understand that only by means of peace and equality will they be able to live peacefully. Sharon is only just starting to understand that.”
I asked him what causes this feeling of discrimination, and how he explains this to the kids.
“We explain that we aren’t against Israel or the right of the Jewish people to reside in Israel, but we want Israel to recognize us and not to discriminate against us.”
The summer-camp ad stated children will be shown “films that will broaden their horizons.” I asked Abu Al-‘A’sal what films they show the kids. “We show the film Jenin Jenin and a film on the massacre in ‘Sabra and Shatila.”
‘Jenin Jenin’ was produced at the end of 2002 and banned from commercial screening in Israel by the Film and Theatre Censorship in Israel. The rationale behind the banning was that the film was biased propaganda presenting events in a warped manner during a still ongoing war, and that the film was offensive to public sensitivities, who may get the mistaken impression that IDF soldiers carry out deliberate and systematic war crimes.
The massacre at ‘Sabra and Shatila in 1982 brought about the resignation of Ariel Sharon, then defense minister. Approximately 2,000 people were killed in the ‘Sabra and Shatila refugee camps in Lebanon by Christian paramilitary groups, but Palestinians regard Sharon as being directly accountable for the massacre.
“How can these films be screened to children of 6-12 years of age?” I asked Abu Al-‘A’sal, “and how are they supposed to regard Sharon, who was defense minister at the time and prime minister when ‘Jenin, Jenin’ was produced?”
“We tell the children the truth, and don’t turn a blind eye. They must know that in Israel there are also people who don’t want peace. There are good Jews and bad Jews, most of them are good. We should learn to discern our opponents so that we’ll know how to deal with them, all in order to reach peace with them. If peace is one day forced upon Sharon, this may partly exonerate him from his deeds, but what he did in ‘Sabra and Shatila cannot be forgotten.” When asked about what the counselors will talk about with the kids after they see the film, Abu Al-‘A’sal responded, “About the Palestinian suffering and about ways to obtain peace.”
Towards the end of the conversation, I could not help but ask Abu Al-‘A’sal about the meaning of his first name, Jihad. Jihad was born in 1948, a year Palestinians also call “Nakba year” [the year of the catastrophe]. “Many of the children born that year were called Jihad, which means struggle, but the word has several meanings. It can mean a violent struggle; a struggle for peace; or even the daily struggle of a man trying to support his family,” explained Abu Al-‘A’sal.
“There is neither a general trend among Israeli Arabs promoting ideas of destroying Israel, nor of cooperating with it. There are few who believe that, maybe a thousand. Israeli Arabs know they are part of the state and not part of any future Palestinian state. There is a feeling of closeness between us and other residents of the state. We are fluent in Hebrew, and even close in culture. When I visit my family in Nablus [in the Palestinian Authority] I almost feel like a stranger. I only want Israel to recognize me, stop discriminating against me and treat me as one of its own,” concluded Abu Al-‘A’sal.