"I pity the country / I pity the state. And the mind of a man / who thrives on hate" sings Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, echoing the words of Willie Dunn, a singer-songwriter of mixed Mi’kmaw and Scottish/Irish background, 50 years ago.

Simpson beautifully connects to the struggle of fellow indigenous activists, fifty years earlier. The video is directed by Lisa Jackson & Conor McNally who weave images from a documentary made by Willie Dunn in 1968 with contemporary shots, for example from the ‘Idle no More’ indigenous-led social movement of the past decade. Not only do we see a beautiful artistic collaboration across generations, we see how Leanne is in dialogue with the past.

After our previous newsletter, where our former colleague Chris called for supporting Palestine, complaints were filed about our statement. Not all members of the AHK community feel ‘safe’ when the Palestinian cause is supported. For similar reasons, at some academies, posters calling for ceasefire and solidarity have been the subject of discussion. This post may evoke similar feelings of ‘unsafety’. 

A couple of weeks ago the Waterlooplein - so close to most of the AHK buildings - turned into a powerful protest. It was unprecedented in Dutch history that a public space was occupied to speak out against Israel's president opening the Holocaust museum and against Zionism. People stood up, led by various organizations including the Jewish organization Erev Rav. “We are responsible to act when our pain is instrumentalized to oppress others”, writes one of the organizers. Many of the protestors made the point that because of the atrocities of the Holocaust, and in order to honour their ancestors, they could not support the head of the state of Israel that is accused of genocide in the International Court of Justice, to be the one to open the museum. The protest showed precisely what mainstream politics and media cannot handle: complexity, solidarity and courage. 

Can we hold on to some of that spirit at the AHK?
Esra Özyürek writes in her book Subcontractors of Guilt (2023) how in Germany over the past twenty years, antisemitism is externalized to minority groups: Muslims - are ‘subcontracted’ for Germany’s Holocaust guilt. Instead of dealing with the antisemitism that continued to exist within Germany among white (mostly right-wing) Germans, it has been easier to point to Muslim Germans and frame them as antisemitic. Özyürek notices how in recent years many others, including Germans with a Jewish background who try to speak out on racism, are called out and demonized. Trying to compare the holocaust to other genocides and challenging the idea that antisemitism is unique and “distinct from other forms of racism” is a very ‘dangerous’ thing to do. In Discourse on Colonialism (1950) Aimé Cesaire (the poet and writer from Martinique and the founder of the Négritude movement) already dared to make that ‘dangerous’ comparison. Not in order to relativize, but he shows how Hitler wasn’t so exceptional after all: he stood in the European tradition of genocidal racism. Europe is “morally, spiritually indefensible”, Cesaire wrote.

In the seventies, my father went to a kibbutz. He believed in the project of Israel and thought he contributed to building this dream. He thought he was ‘on the right side of history’. Like so many others he came to learn that the dream was a Zionist myth, that has been so destructive. In 2012, at age 72 he wanted to go to Palestine to help out on the ground as an ambulance driver. His saviourism at his age was completely irresponsible. My mother wouldn’t let him go. 
For mainstream politics and media it is still easier to advocate for the myth of Zionism as well as externalizing and projecting a nation’s feelings of guilt onto ‘the other’. But the protestors at Waterlooplein refused to be ‘subcontractors of Holocaust guilt’, and to insist on another relation with ‘history’ as well as understanding themselves as having a responsibility in the present. For them anti-zionism does not equal anti-semitism.

Back to the AHK: When is a claim to safety actually a claim to comfort? When is it a trauma response, or when is it a call to be shielded off from having to deal with something that is painful, overwhelming and complex? 
Education was never ‘safe’, therefore so many educators today prefer the term ‘brave space’. Claims to safety can dilute incidents of harm and violence, for example when someone is chased down upon entering a building because it looks like “they don’t belong here” or when sexual abuse in our institutions takes place. Being brave is what we expect from students. What can we demand from our tutors and staff? (And what can we expect from our management that needs to navigate the position of safeguarding finances from a government that supports Israel in its genocide?)
In the last months, I have wondered about the discussions around social safety and identity and what exactly they have brought us. My colleague Aminata makes the distinction between being vulnerable vs. being fragile. Vulnerability is when we dare to share our emotions, our fears or sadness and are open to learning. Vulnerability is open-ended. Fragility on the other hand is the state of being weak, overwhelmed, being consumed by yourself and self-pity and being unable to face reality. Defensive mechanisms come into play and denial, shame and guilt can easily become projected onto someone else.

I was reminded of a former student that I met in front of the International Court of Justice in the Hague in January. She had just come back from visiting her family in Tel Aviv and was overflowing with emotions, trying to make sense of it all. But here she stood, with her sign: ‘Stop the murder: Stop the occupation: Stop’. 
I look forward to Leanne Simpson’s visit. Her work challenges us to dare to think together. To not settle for a ready-made answer. To show bravery and vulnerability, to review our own histories and stances. To change our minds. To work against minds and states that thrive on hate.