Temporality, Stories, Israel/Gaza

By: Aminata Cairo
As the head of the Social Justice and Diversity in the Arts lectorate, it is more than fitting that I say something about what is going on in Israel and Gaza. Yet my first response in situations like this is to get quiet and go within, ironically with the risk of being judged as being complicit according to the mantra ‘silence is violence’. To me silence is contemplative, restorative or healing. Outbursts of anger, condemnation and judgment are easy and quick, and not unwarranted, but I also know there is usually way more than we are aware of. So, I need some silence first. In addition, I have very little faith in the media, especially in the Dutch media, which is notorious for biased and half-informed reporting, particularly if it is not about their own people. Sorry, but it’s true.
So, instead I get quiet. I go within and listen to that voice within, but also to listen to voices who know a whole lot more about the situation than me, like my brother Tayfun Balçik and so many others. I try to think before I speak and I would like to say something that adds and not just echoes what is already being said.
I have heard the Jewish voices who state that they are not Zionists. I have heard the voices that yell that Hamas does not represent all Palestinians, especially innocent civilians. I have heard voices about the right to defend, I have even heard a political voice that said we should just bomb Iran. It is insane. Everybody has strong feelings and opinions, has a whole lot to say and in the meantime people are suffering.
So what can I say that can add something? What can I say that hasn’t been said before? Going within tells me that I can best speak from what I know. What I know is that this is about story, about our collective story as human beings. Ultimately that is always what any situation is about. Who do we want to be as human beings? What does it require, and what are we willing to do? What I see playing out here, as horrific as it is, is nothing new. We have done this before, multiple times. Each time with beautiful, rational, justifications, only to scratch our heads later to wonder what we could and should have done differently. How could this have happened? How could we have let it happen, again? Are we going to stand by and let it happen again?
In our lectorate, as part of our social justice approach, we stress the importance of considering temporality, that is the expansion across time and space. At any given moment when we enter a story, there is always a story that was there before. We know for instance, that the attack on Israel by Hamas did not come out of nothing. There was a history of oppression, expulsion, colonization, and more. For the Zionists there is the religious story that once the land formerly known as Palestine was theirs. Whether you believe or acknowledge that story is not the issue. This is part of their story and justifies their actions. The Palestinians in Gaza became governed by Hamas after they kicked out the Palestinian Authority by winning the elections in 2007. Since 1967 Gaza and the West Bank have been on lockdown and restrictions by Israel with the support of many western countries. In those 50 plus years men have not been able to come to some form of peace, each side not willing to give in. Hence there are many different political and religious stories that exist and have existed that are in play here.
Temporality acknowledges expansion of stories in time, but it also acknowledges our story across space. What that means is that we are connected with our brothers and sisters in Israel and Gaza, regardless where we are. What does that connection do to us? What does it mean for us? If we really want change, can we ignore that connection? Can we use that connection to pursue change, even right here in our own private spaces? Do we fight for peace in the Middle East and then turn around and treat our neighbors like crap? If we want peace, tolerance, sensitivity, and sensibility, do we exemplify that in our behavior with those who are near and dear to us every single day, or only when we stand on the barricades?
Which stories do we hold on to and which stories do we need to let go off in order to write a new story together? This is a question I continuously ask in the search for social justice. What kinds of sacrifices should we be willing to make if we want to disrupt the status quo and are we brave enough to do so? If we want peace between Palestinians and Israelis, what could/would/should they be willing to give up of their own stories? Unheard of, impossible? Maybe, maybe not, but if we start from the premise that we are all connected, we might not have a choice. What we’ve been doing is not working. How do we use our voice, including our inner voice to change how we relate to each other? I come from a family of artists. My aunt was one of the most famous traditional singers in Suriname. Her voice could make you stop in your tracks. My god family are generational sound healers. They have taught me about the power of voice if used correctly. I don’t have any answers. And I shudder at the news of what is going on, just like everybody else. I do know that we can use our voices to disrupt and change the energy. But we have to be courageous and purposeful.
Singing was essential to the Civil Rights Movement in the US. Singing was essential in mobilizing people in the fight against Apartheid in South Africa. I am reminded of when Haiti had an earthquake in 2011. Alongside medical help, the Cuban government sent the Creole Choir to sing and lift people’s spirits in Haiti. My partner Rosa te Velde, along with organizations Arts of Resistance, metStem and music school Aslan have started a community protest choir. Through singing protest songs they are empowering people. They are changing people’s stories. I am not saying that singing will stop the war in Israel/Gaza. What I am saying is that we have to be brave and purposeful about using our voice if we want to write a different story for us. And if singing can inspire or empower us to do so, why not. But using your voice is not limited to singing. Speak, write, connect to the (guiding) voice within, engage your voice in a way that makes sense to you, and in a way that can contribute to a disruption somehow. Use your voice wisely and lovingly and start in the here and now, where you are. Think about how you can expand that voice across time and space. Be consistent, be determined. We need every voice.