The banality of horror.

I was on a bus, or maybe in a taxi. I was on my way to work. Thinking of the day ahead, or, more likely, not thinking at all. Then, that voice on the radio: A suicide bomber had just exploded himself, a few blocks from my apartment, on a bus I rode so frequently that it was virtually my second home.

I was on my way to Jerusalem, where I worked as an assistant to the correspondent for the Los Angeles Times; I was experienced enough to know that I needed to get out of the vehicle I was in and immediately into another, to return to Tel Aviv to cover the scene. And so I did, and you can read the report that I ultimately helped to file, here. At some point the next day, I remember sinking to the floor in my hallway, putting my head on my knees, and sobbing.

That was October 19, 1994, and fifteen years later (almost to the day, it occurs to me), that bombing is what comes to mind for me when I pause to take in the news that somewhere on the globe, a human being has blown his or her body to bits in order kill other human beings.

The shell of the bus had been peeled away, it seemed — like a Playmobile bus, where you could put little plastic dolls in and out. But it was charred, and ragged, and there was a woman’s head, caught by her hair, hanging from the bar that standing riders would use to catch their balance. There were parts of bodies — twenty-two bodies, all told — flung every which way, like someone had up-ended a box. I remember being surprised that I was surprised that bodies don’t blow apart neatly.

I have clear memories of covering two other such bombings (one at the end of my street), and I know I must have helped with others — probably in the office, fielding comments and reactions, maybe translating for my boss, comparing the numbers, the location, the perpetrators of this bombing, to that. There were so many. It was terrifying.

And each one stopped our lives, flooded the news, changed the radio playlists, as we mourned and mourned and mourned. It felt like surely something drastic must happen, something enormous must change, because how could the fact of human beings exploding their veins and sinews and bones and teeth in order to try to kill me and mine not change everything?

It is humbling, at the very least, to read the report that ran the next day and see how little change there has been. There they are, in 1994, Israel’s leaders demanding harsher and yet harsher action against Hamas, and Israelis on the street, begging for peace and quiet. Two changes: The prime minister we quoted back then, Yitzhak Rabin, was killed for trying to bring that peace, and Hamas now leads the legitimately elected government of the Palestinian people. So much for then-President Ezer Weizman’s assessment: “This cannot be allowed to continue…. We will have to catch (Hamas members), to tear them apart, to chop them to pieces. This is what I’m certain the Israel Defense Forces and the security service will do.”

Why do I write about this now? Because yesterday, at least 155 souls were taken to their God in the streets of Baghdad, and I want to remind myself, at least this time, of what that means. What it looks like.

And from there, to try to expand my mind to encompass and understand one hundred and fifty-five people killed, dozens of them, apparently, children. To try to imagine, for just a moment, what it must be like to live with that terror on a nearly daily basis, to be living a life in which just setting foot outside your front door requires a certain courage. To try to feel in my bones what Baghdadis must feel in theirs — that this may have been the worst attack since 2007, but that’s just because these bombers were luckier than all the other bombers. There have been so many.

I hardly pause, anymore, when I hear the words “suicide bomber.” It took 155 dead to get my attention. I want, at the very least, to honor them.

יהי זכרם ברוך

May their memory be for a blessing.

Iran activism: Giving it my best shot.

Ok, so I’ve been doing some digging, and I haven’t really found anything yet that the average American could actually do for those millions of Iranians we watched marching down their nation’s streets a few months ago, demanding that their votes count for something, fighting the tyranny that marks their daily lives.

What I have found so far comes down to two things:

1. Keep yourselves informed – It stands to reason that we will be better positioned to actively support the Iranian people the next time they rise up (and I do believe there will be a next time, and that it will likely happen sooner than we think) if we are better informed about who they are, what matters to them, and what life in Iran is really like. When Americans consider Iran, we often find that we’re dealing with a lot of misperception and myth, left over from the 1979 revolution and hostage crisis, and fed by our current society-wide apprehension concerning anything with the word “Islam” attached to it (not to mention our fears, justified or not, of a “nuclear Iran”). You’ll find my own recommendations for books that you might find useful here, here, and here, and here are a few articles to catch you up on current circumstances.
   • A piece from the Sept 30 Foreign Affairs about the election, and the radicalization of Iran’s power elite: “The real struggle, however, is the conflict among the hard-liners themselves, many of whom operate behind the headlines in unseen corners of the state machinery. Although Iran’s opposition movement has witnessed an unprecedented surge in public support, the election and its aftermath mark a radicalization of the system not seen since the early days of the Islamic revolution.” (It’s kind of a depressing read — it’s worth noting the last two lines: “this time, the regime must contend with an embattled opposition that is backed by mass popular support. As the last few months have proven, it is a movement that cannot be easily bullied into submission.”)
   • An interview with Iranian Nobel Laureate Shirin Ebadi
   • A response to hearing Ebadi speak - I was struck by the fact that Ebadi emphasizes the imperative of simply getting to know each other (and surely the Muslims of Iran function as a sizeable Other for American society): “Psychology tells us that when we do not understand something, we become afraid of it…and once that fear is instilled in us, it develops into a hate for the source of that insecurity.”

     Read more at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kiri-westby/we-cannot-let-fear-turn-i_b_318062.html

   • Writer Hooman Majd (and what a writer!) in Newsweek, traveling through Iran in the lead-up to the election
   • A statement by Iranian-American academics concerning US-Iranian negotiations and Iranian human rights abuses (some context by Andrew Sullivan, here).
   • An article about divisions in the clerical class – it’s from back in the midst of the upheaval, but it’s some interesting background
   • Background the Iranian system of government
   • Facts and figures
2. Women are the key – back at the height of the upheaval, I kept noticing all the women out in the streets, and I remember reading that, in fact, it was the Iranian women’s movement that stands at the center of the slow, steady establishment in recent years of the kind of civil society required to produce that kind of massive, sustained protest. I continue to read things (for instance, the two Ebadi pieces, above) that indicate to me that women will, in fact, play a crucial role in any real reform that might happen in the future. I don’t know enough about this part of the story yet, but I’m going to keep looking into it, to see what I turn up — but it seems to me that if you support organizations that work for women’s rights in Iran, you might well be backing the right horse (and I’ll try to find a few of those for a later post!).
   • A piece giving some good context from the NY Times — published a few months before the election
   • An NPR report on Sussan Tahmasebi, a leading Iranian women’s rights activist – she discusses the impact of the women’s movement on the discourse leading up to the elections
   • A HuffPo piece on the impact of women on the protests – from the immediate post-election period
   • The One Million Signature Campaign – the heart, I’m given to understand, of the Iranian women’s movement

No really – I mean it! + The Nobel.

Holy crow, another week gone and I still haven’t kept one of last week’s promises! Well. I beg your forbearance, and promise (…) to research and write about Iran next week. I have a wee start, but nothing that I could easily make sense of now, and I have to go cook for yet another in the endless round of Jewish fall holidays!

So, in lieu of new thinking, I’ll borrow from myself over at Ta-Nehisi Coates’ place earlier today, re: President Obama’s Nobel Peace Prize.

I feel like I should be happy, or all weepy, or proud, or some such. But what I really feel is that the Nobel committee is either rewarding us for getting rid of Bush, or rewarding Obama for not being Bush, or simply indulging in wishful thinking. Or all three.

My faith in this President and his skills has been dropping for a couple of months now, but after the Administration joined Israel in forcing Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas to table the Goldstone report, it just kind of limped into the corner.

Other than the fact that we are inching very slowly toward the possibility of talks with Iran, I literally see no actual improvement on the international scene. I see nothing that has actually begun to change. The Iraq draw-down had been agreed on before he took office — Obama is keeping the terms of an agreement that was already in place. Afghanistan is worse, and he’s prevaricating about how to make it better. We’re told that we no longer torture, but given that he will do nothing to investigate past torture, I find myself doubting, particularly as the President continues to look for the best way to keep People We Don’t Like in indefinite legal limbo. Gitmo will not be closed by January, which would be fine if it looked like there was at least progress, but mostly I see what looks a lot like wheel-spinning. And in the area that I obsess about the most, Israel/Palestine, Obama has not only not lived up to his own, self-generated hype, but he has been pushed back by Israel on several fronts, and has effectively buried Abbas.

I don’t wish to discount his efforts toward nuclear disarmament, or the fact that he’s brought us back to the UN — these are big steps. But with all the discouragement that I’m feeling, I will admit that even as I notice those things, in the back of my mind a tiny voice is saying: “But that’s not actually achievement. That’s just setting the stage” — which, yes, the stage has to be set in order to achieve achievement. Yes. But there has been an awful lot of stage setting, and a few sizeable misjudgments, and honestly, I’m ready to stop cheering ideas and start cheering facts.

I do hope that I will be proven wrong — oh my God, I hope this so desperately, and if I am proven wrong I will positively leap to my feet and shout “I WAS WRONG!!” from the rooftops.

And of course, the President himself said that he sees this as a call to action, and, as Andrew Sullivan wrote today, it could very well be “a downpayment on a potential transformative period in world history.” I hope so.

But right now? I just can’t see it. And this makes me sadder than I can say.

(And I can’t tell you how much I hate that this post also inadvertently puts me in with the fuckers on the right who seem to think that being patriotic means reflexive rejection of anything and everything that this President does or stands for. God damn it!).

Excellence – in book form.

I recently reviewed After the Prophet: The Epic Story of the Shia-Sunni Split in Islam (Lesley Hazleton), for the Dallas Morning News. Had it been up to me, this is what the review would have looked like:

OMG!! THIS BOOK IS SO GOOD!! IF THIS BOOK WERE A PERSON, I WOULD MARRY IT!! GO READ THIS BOOK!!1!

Ahem.

But as it was not up to me, the actual review went something like this:

“Reading these voices from the seventh century,” [Hazleton] writes of her source material, “you feel as though you are sitting in the middle of a vast desert grapevine, a dense network of intimate knowledge defying the limitations of space and time.”

One might easily say the same of this remarkable book. Surely anyone with an interest in the Muslim world or U.S. foreign policy should pick up After the Prophet at the first opportunity — and so, too, should any reader interested in a story of human passion and consequence, told with consummate skill.

The full review is here; the website for the book is here.

Now, really: Go read this book!! OMG!!

U2 and a life of service.

So we went to see U2 on Saturday — their first American show in this tour — and it was, if I may, in a word: AWESOME!!!

Yep. That’s the word.

There is a lot of internet and indie-purist angst spilled over the fact that a) U2 are huge and b) Bono is arrogant, and thus c) the cool kids can’t like U2, but you know what, we all need to just get over ourselves. Musical preferences are a personal thing and if you don’t like U2, you don’t like U2 (hey, I don’t like Bob Dylan, so there’s that!) — but U2 is huge for the simple reason that they are the best at what they do (which involves not just songwriting and performing but also understanding the craft of putting on a show for 60,000 people), and, honestly, you get to be arrogant if you bring the goods. Which Bono does. He brings the goods both artistically and in his work for social justice — and he even has a sense of his own absurdity. Which is a blessing in anyone, certainly in an international rock star.

Plus which, they’re awesome!

So, now that I’ve put that little controversy to rest /brushes dirt off hands/, I turn to something that came up for me as I pogoed my way through Saturday night’s show (yes, I pogoed. And what of it?).

U2 always raises issues of social justice in their performances, dating back to their earliest days (War, anyone?). This year, “Sunday Bloody Sunday” was turned over to the people of Iran, and as always, the case of Burmese leader and Nobel Laureate Aung San Suu Kyi – under house arrest for 14 of the past 20 years — was front and center with the song “Walk On“. There was talk of debt relief, and anti-retroviral drugs for people with HIV/AIDS in Africa (the number of drug recipients, we were told, stands today at three million, up from 50,000 in 2002 [or 2001. Hey, I was pogoing! I wasn't taking notes!]). There were many references to the One Campaign, and (Red). “You’re all activists, Chicago!” Bono called out to us.

But rather than feel empowered, for a moment, I just felt overwhelmed.

I am an activist, I have been one for as long as I can remember. But when I shout “hell yeah!” for Iran, or Burma, or debt relief, I am just shouting. I am not involved in any of those issues. There is so much pain and so much need, and one person — especially one person with a limited budget, no international clout, and two small kids at home — can only do so much. I advocate for Israeli-Palestinian peace, I tutor at my kids’ school, I help out with community hunger issues, I send the occasional one-off check for gay rights or letter about infrastructure needs  –  I cannot take on Aung San Suu Kyi, too.

So there I stood, singing something or other, and feeling just — impotent, I guess. Small.

So that sucked! But, well, being as how it was U2 and they really are kind of in the business of elevation, I also found myself shaking it off — aside from anything else, making their audience feel impotent and overwhelmed was probably not what Bono, The Edge, Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen (Jr.!) had in mind. Indeed, it’s my experience that feeling overwhelmed is the quickest way to activist burnout, and that’s no good at all.

So, now that my ears have stopped buzzing and I can think a little straighter,  I’ve decided to use this teeny tiny stage that I have built for myself to spread the word about U2’s causes a teeny tiny bit further, and see if I can’t, myself, send one more letter, or educate myself about one more thing, or make one more phone call. Just one.

If you have time, energy, and inclination, please consider adding your voice to one or more of these worthy efforts:

1. Music Rising: This is The Edge’s project, “launched to rescue the musical culture of the Central Gulf region of the United States from the destruction caused by the catastrophic hurricanes of the summer of 2005 by replacing musical instruments lost or destroyed in the deluge.”
2. (Red): “RED is a groundbreaking economic initiative designed to deliver a sustainable flow of private sector money to the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria. Launch partners such as American Express, Converse, Gap and Giorgio Armani have committed to channelling a portion of profits from sales of specially-designed products to supporting AIDS programmes in Africa which have a focus on women and children. These include programmes in countries such as Rwanda, where, in the past two years, the number of people receiving treatments for HIV/AIDS has increased by ten-fold.”
3. ONE – “ONE is a grassroots campaign and advocacy organization backed by more than 2 million people who are committed to the fight against extreme poverty and preventable disease, particularly in Africa. Cofounded by Bono and other campaigners, ONE is nonpartisan and works closely with African policy makers and activists.”
4. Free Burma! – “Burma, a country of 47 million people is ruled by fear. A military machine of 400,000 soldiers denies a whole nation its most basic rights. Aung San Suu Kyi, pro-democracy leader and Nobel Peace laureate, symbolises the struggle of Burma’s people to be free.”
5. Greenpeace – “Our core values are reflected in our environmental campaign work: We ‘bear witness’ to environmental destruction in a peaceful, non-violent manner. We use non-violent confrontation to raise the level and quality of public debate. In exposing threats to the environment and finding solutions we have no permanent allies or adversaries. We ensure our financial independence from political or commercial interests. We seek solutions for, and promote open, informed debate about society’s environmental choices.”
6. Amnesty International – “Amnesty International is a worldwide movement of people who campaign for internationally recognized human rights for all. Our supporters are outraged by human rights abuses but inspired by hope for a better world – so we work to improve human rights through campaigning and international solidarity.”
7. The Chernobyl Children’s Project – “Since its establishment in 1991, Chernobyl Children’s Project International (CCPI) has delivered over €76 million in direct and indirect humanitarian aid to the Chernobyl region. CCPI aims to restore hope to the people of the Chernobyl-affected region.”
8. Angiogenesis Foundation – I will admit that I almost didn’t include this, as I had never heard of it before. But if I’m not going to trust the guys who wrote “One,” who am I going to trust? “Founded in 1994, the Angiogenesis Foundation is the world’s first nonprofit organization dedicated to conquering disease using a new approach based on angiogenesis, the growth of new blood vessels in the body. Angiogenesis is the ‘common denominator’ in society’s most feared diseases, including cancer, heart disease, blinding disorders, and more than 70 other conditions. Our focus on this underlying process makes our approach as a medical organization unique and effective, and is already leading to breakthroughs for several cancers, diabetic wounds, and macular degeneration.”
9. Iran – I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what people of good will who are not currently in Iran can do to help the citizens of that country win a freer and fairer life for themselves. But this is where I’m going to educate myself more — I’ll look into it, and post something over the next week or so.

Mother Teresa would often say something along the lines of “We cannot do great things; only small things, with great love” — or, in the words of the poet: “We get to carry each other.”

UPDATE: Shoot! “Embedding disabled by request. Watch on YouTube”! Oh well. One more click (right there on the “Watch on YouTube”), and you can watch it there….

Good stuff.

Something quick, while I’m working on a longer post: A fascinating look into Pakistani culture, via the art of painting trucks. About six minutes long, and a terrific break in the day. (And thanks to my husband for bringing it to my attention — and apologies to him for mocking people who watch YouTube videos at work…).

“Africa”.

The other day, there I was, ordering my ridiculously expense caffeine conduit at Starbucks, when I noticed that they’ve got a lot of “Africa” themed stuff for sale. Little games familiar to Americans but produced across the ocean, some lovely totes made by women in Rwanda, and so on. There was signage to the effect that purchasing these products would help “people in Africa,” and I found myself staring, kind of dazedly, at one of the games, picking it up, turning it over, and thinking “Africa?”.

We here in America have an “Africa” problem. I’m not taking issue with Starbucks (not even for their prices), in no small part because I think that creating the circumstances in which people facing difficult economic or cultural realities can make a living is, bottom line, a Good. I have purchased lovely bracelets from a woman’s collective in Afghanistan, I own a beautiful Rwandan “Peace Basket” (made by a collective of Hutu and Tutsi women working together), and I often do my gift shopping at places like 10,000 Villages. No argument from me on that front.

But sometime in recent memory, someone (and I don’t remember who – I’m sorry!) brought to my attention the fact that it is a problem when we relate to a place — in this case, Africa — solely as a place in need of our help, and that furthermore, “Africa,” is, in fact, enormous and should not (actually, cannot) be reduced to a single narrative. Then commenter rumpelshowsskin pointed out one day on Jezebel that there are more than 50 African countries, and by really putting my mind to it at the time, I found could name about 22. This did not strike me as a good thing.

President Obama’s trip to Ghana brought the issue up for me again — I discovered, for one thing, that I knew absolutely nothing about Ghana. The fact that the Administration chose Ghana for the President’s first sub-Saharan trip, rather than his ancestral home of Kenya, or oil-rich Nigeria, or anywhere else, seemed to me to be a deeply resonant statement of respect for Ghana’s good governance, and it forced me (and, I suspect, not just me) to run to my internet and try to close my knowledge gap. Today, I know a very little bit about Ghana (such as the fact that the country is marked by good governance) — not much, it’s true, but it is infinitely more than I knew on Friday.

On the one hand, there is no end to the things we don’t know (see: Friday’s post!), and there is really only so much we can beat ourselves up about it. But on the other hand, the lumping of more than 50 soveriegn nations — ranging from Egypt, to Ghana, to Somolia, to Liberia, to South Africa — into one enormous, needy pot, entitled “Africa,” quickly becomes an exercise in willful ignorance. Or malignant laziness.

I don’t know that I am actually going anywhere with this — I have no actionable item to urge upon you, nor do I have any grand conclusion. The countries and people of Africa are, in fact, plagued by myriad troubles, and many are desperately in need of real help.

But I can’t help but think that if we here in America were to find a way to speak more carefully, and to more successfully include the voices of African academics and peace advocates and grassroots organizers in the conversation, we would have a much better picture of the reality that they are facing, and the help we offer would be better received — and it would be more likely to be, you know, helpful.

We are still the world’s one remaining superpower, and how we talk and where we go and how we spend our money has an outsized effect on the entire world. The President, I am proud to say, appears to know this in his bones. I am hoping to step up my own understanding of these undeniable facts.