Is There a Way Forward for Israel?
Or has its past forever tainted its future?
Whenever I read about Israel’s founding as a settler-colonial enterprise nesting on stolen land I’m reminded of the guilt I feel for a crime I didn’t commit.
It was a Thursday, April 30, 1992. The second, and worst day of the Rodney King/LA Riots. I was a freelance photographer supporting my family, my wife and two-year-old son. No photo could adequately describe LA that day: People in suits went about their daily work along 6th Street in Mid-Wilshire, while across the street gangs of looters broke into stores, moving along the like an incoming tide.
I tried to capture that bizarre dichotomy between anarchy and the quotidian, but I got careless. In a parking lot on Crenshaw and Olympic I let a Fatburger stand get between me and my car. Realizing I wasn’t completely invisible, I started to trot back to the perceived safety of my vehicle, but too late. A gang jumped me. Broke my nose, cracked some ribs and, most egregiously, took my gear.
I drove home wondering what in the everlasting fuck I was going to do now. Without gear I had no way to make and sell photos. And, if you remember those days, jobs weren’t exactly plentiful. That was when it occurred to me: The looters kept moving west, they were bound to hit West Hollywood and two of…
