Can We Really Listen to the Pains and Needs of the ‘Other’?
I tested it out
Last week, the funeral of Hersh Goldstein-Polin was livestreamed on YouTube for the world to watch and mourn with those present. Hersh’s story has been central to the hostage crisis, from the original October 7th footage shot by Hamas terrorists to his mother’s deep, heartfelt pleas to the world, to his parents travelling across the world to speak to governments and diplomats everywhere to please help free their son from captivity.
Hersh survived for 329 days in captivity and then was shot brutally in the head by Hamas, to be found, along with five other hostages who had met the same fate, just days later by the IDF. The world (the compassionate world rather than the heartless c**ts who took to social media to justify Hersh’s murder) was shaken and shocked. So of course we wanted to feel that we were present as his life was celebrated, and mourned in unison.
During the service, Hersh’s dad, Jon, shared how, during his travels to seek support to free his son, he met one diplomat whose advice to him had been “always take time to truly understand the other side.” So he took that advice to heart and sought hard to understand the views of those who opposed his country and its rights.
Those words resonated deeply. It’s something I have, time and time again, worked hard to do. I think, in any difficult situation of conflict with hugely polarised ‘sides’, the very least we can do is try to understand the pains and wants of those who oppose what we believe. To use the power of compassion to hear their hearts, and empathy to stand in their shoes for even a moment.
When we can do that, we can open the channels of honest and loving communication. But we need our opposers to be able to do that too. And that’s where things can get tricky.
Over the course of the last three months, I found myself in conversation with someone whose early communications to me this year included terms such as “abhor” and “despise” to describe his feelings towards the State of Israel. In that early communication it was clear that he held every single national of Israel accountable for the “theft of land” and “ethnic cleansing” of Palestine. (I use the terms in quotation marks because they are contentious topics and this piece is not about making accusations) And yet, he seemed open to listening to me, and I never even considered not listening to him.
Our discussions went back and forth a little, not reaching too far into any difficult confrontations but, at least from my perspective, openly sharing and listening to a little of why we each felt as we did. As I’m sure you can appreciate, this is a huge and complex topic, and so I won’t go into any details here. We also spent some time together in person and the topic never came up. We enjoyed shared common ground and plenty of laughs. It felt as if we were successfully hearing the different views with open minds and hearts, understanding that these are merely differing feelings about a situation that we can do little about, in a part of the world thousands of miles away from where we are, that shouldn’t impact a friendship.
It turns out that my understanding of this was wrong.
In fact, it seems that my outspokenness elsewhere as Jewish, as an Israeli national with many family members in Israel (though I have lived in the UK for most of my life and almost exclusively describe myself as British) grated on him.
And finally, in a string of messages it all came out. All the comments on my choices and my views came like a tsunami that left me a little stunned.
In response, I chose to thank him for his frankness, and otherwise spent several days quietly contemplating his words and whether I should respond more at all. I would like to share with you things I have journaled in response to him, though not sent him. (Whether or not I do, I have yet to decide)
You told me you are Israeli, which is problematic for me. And it seems you are struggling with your identity as an Israeli but have lived in England most of your life.
I wanted to let you know that I am an Israeli national, which I legally am, assigned to me at birth, since it felt relevant given your position. How you chose to take it was up to you and of course it being a problem to you renders a friendship unviable. But it seemed not to be, despite the opinions you’d expressed, and that touched me. But no, I am not struggling with my identity. I don’t see myself as a member of Israeli society because I am not. I describe myself as British where nationality needs to be stated. Otherwise, nationality is irrelevant to me and these interactions have only served to positively reinforce my self-perception.
Defining Judaism as an ethnicity is nonsensical. Most Jews who stake a claim over Israel are European Jews or share their ethnicity with European Jews, while many other Jews seem ethnically more similar to Palestinians.
Your claims are inaccurate. The Jews of Israel are made up of 55% Sephardim, who are the ones with DNA from Middle Eastern and North African countries and, prior to that, Spain and Portugal. Ashkenazi Jews have a 70% DNA crossover with Christian communities of Lebanon and Palestine and Druze because of the Levantine and Canaanite ancestors. Ashkenazim share a little less than that with Palestinian Muslims.
I have never once wanted an argument about ownership of land that is frankly irrelevant to either of us here in England yet you repeatedly instigate it. My only interest is the safety of all people. And in fact I love my family, as I suspect you love yours, and have a vested interest in their safety.
Otherwise as an ethnicity it has relevance since my Jewish DNA renders me predisposed to certain medical conditions, as other ethnicities are also predisposed to others. It’s science and it matters for statistics and awareness.
You’re not ethnically different to the majority of this society— you’re white and have the same privileges of every white person.
I never claimed not to be white or privileged as a white person. But I do have Jewish features, which don’t definitively identify me as Jewish but if anyone was looking for Jews, my features would stand out. And that’s not something we can rule out given that only 80 years ago the Holocaust was still raging, while the number of people today openly declaring that “Hitler didn’t finish the job” is not to be taken lightly. I don’t spend my life being paranoid. I’m just aware, and I will speak up when called to.
Why do you align yourself with a fairy-story religion? If you aren’t religious why not just say your parents are Jewish? Calling yourself Jewish seems unnecessarily divisive.
On defining myself as Jewish, I see what you are getting at, but you are ignoring the fact that antisemitic rhetoric has created the divide, not secular Jews. I always used to say that I’m from a Jewish background but in fact the world assigns me the label of Jewish simply because of that, as we have seen with public figures with only one Jewish parent (think Stephen Fry, who never outwardly referred to himself as Jewish).
Saying “I have Jewish parents” as a replacement for calling myself Jewish is presumptive at best. Neither of my parents are religious either but we always celebrated the festivals. And it doesn’t really matter if you think lighting Hanukkah candles constitutes believing in a fairy story because that’s just bullshit. I doubt you have abstained from Christmas trees all your life. After all, they bring cheer and brightness to dark days, just like Hanukkah candles do. And symbolism is not about fairy tales, it’s how humans find hope and purpose in life. We see symbolism everywhere, as you even personally alluded to in our conversations.
Calling yourself Jewish means I can’t relate to who you think you are.
That is bizarre and divisive by its implication, and I didn’t see you as someone who would find something like that a barrier to friendship.
**(Note I chose not to bring in that lovely word ‘antisemitic’ here, though it wreaks of it.)
Perhaps you’re clutching at straws to be right when it shouldn’t even matter what I call myself. It seems to me that being friends with someone who owns their Jewish roots makes denying the atrocities being committed against Jews impossible. Meanwhile that denial silences voices and legitimises cruelty, psychological warfare and terror, instead of standing against injustice, as the pro-Palestine movement claims to do. That I can’t respect and it only reinforces my conviction in my own position which has never sought to delegitimize the rights of Palestinians.
Why do I stand up as Jewish? Because ever since the start of this war I have found the hate and intimidation of Jews, and the online poison, to be so abhorrent that it has made me fall in love all the more with the inherently joyful Jewish traditions that are completely inoffensive and threaten no one. Things like eating donuts at Hanukkah and baking challah, and sharing meals — with all and sundry — excluding no one and hating no one. Merely loving and celebrating life. If that makes anyone uncomfortable they might need to take a long hard look in the mirror.
As you can probably see, our attempts at understanding one another’s positions was an abysmal failure but I would like to think that I at least gave it my all, which I did. I have spent countless hours digesting the history of Israel’s aggression, and the hiding of the truth of some of the massacres committed by the Israeli militia during 1947–9. I’ve also read all about the attacks by Arabs during that period and earlier, and listened to accounts by local Arabs about the propaganda that was spread.
It’s very…not black and white.
And it’s so shrouded in blame that there is no end to these arguments ever. Which is why, at least in my mind, it’s better not to argue about the past and, instead, look to the present and the future, and what needs to be done to have peace. You know, like releasing the hostages and removing Hamas entirely from power just for starters.
Though I don’t pretend to have many answers for longer term peace and security, I know that any solution that we outside of Israel and Palestine can help to influence needs to begin with safety for all. I do not deny the rights of anyone. Both Palestinians and Israeli Jews need to stop denying that right to life, peace and security to the other.
It might have to start with listening and empathy towards the ‘other’. Though tough, it has become the subject of a highly unusual scientific experiment with incredible breakthroughs. But that’s for another essay.
Sadly, back to the conversations I had, when it comes to being heard I don’t feel that happened at all. Nor do I think he ever really tried to hear or understand.
As I say in my last journal entry on the topic:
I see now that what I interpreted as an open mind was not at all, as explained by your views on being Jewish and your problem with associating with someone with Israeli nationality. It wasn’t what I expected and I’m a little shocked at how you refuse to come out from behind a very flawed and dangerous set of values. It’s not the impression I had of you. Though I’m still not convinced you really believe everything you came out with. But there we go…
My final thoughts: wherever you stand on any conflict, if you want to really retain the moral high ground, start with listening and understanding. Whatever it takes.
