Hope and Resistance

 At the conclusion of our morning tour with ICAHD, (formerly known as the Israeli Committee Against House Demolition and now an international coalition resisting Israeli apartheid), our tour guide Chaska- a local Israeli activist who has been working for decades to end Israel's illegal occupation of Palestine - painted a bleak picture of the future of the Holy Land. "We are nearing the end," she said. "This situation has to end at some point. And the way things are going, it is looking like Israel will succeed in not only in the total colonization of historic Palestine, but also in the normalization of that colonization. It will be much like the way the United States colonized Indigenous nations on Turtle Island, pushing the Indigenous people onto smaller and smaller island reservations, and making that completely normal." (We hope to give a fuller description of this informative experience in a future blog).

Our guide's prediction, which felt like a punch in the gut to me, is not unfounded. It is grounded in her decades of experience watching her government encroach deeper and deeper into the West Bank, stealing more land for the construction of bigger settlements (some with populations as large as 50,000) that are connected to one another through a network of roads and closures that make it impossible for Palestinian towns to remain contiguous with one another, systematically demolishing more and more Palestinian homes, and making life so difficult for Palestinians in the West Bank and Jerusalem that it becomes increasingly desirable for them to move out of their historic homeland and become a part of the diaspora.

Later that day, as we rode the bus to Bethlehem to visit a few friends and elders in the Palestinian nonviolent resistance movement, I shared with my team how hard it had been for me to hear this. Listening to, and seeing with my own eyes, all the facts on the ground, it seems quite possible that such a dystopian future might actually come to pass. I wondered aloud whether our hosts in Bethlehem, who had been bearing the brunt of this reality for a long time, would agree that they had no future in their own homeland.

The bus dropped us off at the Bethlehem checkpoint - a mechanized opening through the monstrous, 30-foot high wall that snakes in and around the entire West Bank. It was quite easy to get through, as we discovered, as the Israeli army encourages Palestinians to leave Jerusalem. (It is much harder to return.)

As it had been over 16 years since I had last passed through this way, I was somewhat stunned to be confronted once again with the overwhelming force of this wall that enforces and concretizes apartheid rule. The experience of walking in the shadow of this imposing symbol of oppression overwhelmed us all; one of our team members who had lived and studied in Bethlehem 25 years ago broke down and wept with grief and anger as she witnessed the destruction of this place so beloved to her.

We then visited Wi'am, the Palestinian Conflict Transformation Center. Zoughbi Zoughbi (a Notre Dame graduate!) and several of his family members hosted us for an incredible lunch. Over chicken, falafel, hummus, bread, tomatoes, olive oil, and za'tar, we learned of their own mixed family's experience of the occupation. Since 2019, Israel has refused to allow Zoughbi's wife, an American citizen, to return to the West Bank to live with her family, despite having lived there most of her life. His two sons, one an engineer with a Masters degree from the U.S., have returned to Bethlehem to work as volunteers, with next to no pay, in solidarity with their father, because they believe not only in nonviolent resistance, but also in the importance of standing against the ethnic cleansing of their people, and remaining rooted in their homeland.

Speaking of the increasing enclosure of their beloved city, they pointed out their vulnerability. "We are like sitting ducks," they said. "The soldiers have threatened that if we do not fall in line, we will be the next Gaza."

The Zougbhi family witnessed to us what hope and resistance look like in the face of indescribable oppression. Despite the attacks on their marriage, their employment, and their physical well being (all direct attempts by the Israeli government to make life untenable in Palestine), they have chosen to stay rooted in their family, the community they love, and the land to which they belong - all while offering incredible hospitality to those of us who traveled to stand with them.

Part of the Zoughbi family's resistance includes a contagious sense of humor. Lookout over the domineering wall just a few hundred feet from their home Zoughbi Zoughbi pointed out a growing Walnut Tree. "We hope the roots of this Walnut tree grow so large," he said with a smile, "that it will break the 'wall' into nuts."

After saying goodbye to the Zoughbis, we walked to the Palestine Museum of Natural History, a stunning new project being built by Dr. Mazin Qumsiyeh (a biologist and geneticist who was recently nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize) and his wife. As one of his many acts of resistance to what he calls the "monoculture" of Zionism and the Israeli nation state, Dr. Qumsiyeh insists on studying, collecting, nourishing, and displaying the vast and beautiful biodiversity of Palestine - so that visitors and Palestinians alike can continue to fall in love with both its people and its ecology.

Dr. Qumsiyeh shared a story of one of his first acts of nonviolent resistance: in 1988, when the Israeli military banned Palestinians in the city of Beit Sahour from owning milking cows, he organized a dairy collective of people who literally hid a herd of 18 cows, which were deemed a "threat to Israeli security. "Later, when Palestinians in Bethlehem refused to pay taxes for their own occupation, the Israeli military surrounded the Church of the Nativity in a siege that lasted 49 days. Dr. Qumsiyeh and others recruited and organized internationals to stand with them and break the siege through nonviolent resistance, forming what is now known as the International Solidarity Movement or ISM.

Today, Dr. Qumsiyeh uses that same creative energy to organize volunteers at the museum to plant olive trees, cultivate herbs and vegetables, care for injured owls and other wildlife, experiment with hydroponics, and tend the land with care and determination.

Looking at the newly planted trees and other creatures on the land it is clear that those who are bringing this project to life envision for Palestine a future of beauty, flourishing, and meaningful life.

The struggle is not over yet.