Looking to the future: investing in our youth as a form of effective resistance (1).

The youth in Israel is a kind of "wasted" commodity, trained to produce the same catastrophic results that the previous generation created. Israel's youth is educated to be unquestionably patriotic, achievement oriented, and to consume with a passion. There is a real void in true substance in the lives of our young people, leaving them feeling empty, bored, cheated, and lacking any real hope, power, or positive direction.

This system of disempowerment starts with consumer culture, probably the most destructive force in the world today, and prevalent in every part of Israeli society. Fueled by advertisement, media propaganda, and social pressure, the urge to consume pervades almost every norm and value in our society, molding young people who are blind to the joys and agonies of their and others' lives. They live in an isolated world where everything around them, as well as they themselves, is reduced to nothing more than merchandise to be dealt and acquired by those who can afford it. But while consumerism leaves lives completely lacking substance, Zionist militarism fills that void. It assures our youth that by defending their country from the ever present enemy they make a crucial social contribution and thus are truly important to the survival of the nation and, more diffusely, to the survival of Jews world-wide.

Militaristic education is everywhere in Israeli society, from kindergarten plays where children take on make believe roles of brave, heroic Israeli soldiers, to mandatory military preparation workshops in high schools, as well as billboards and commercials. In a country where a universal draft ensures that just about everybody has been part of the military effort, even dinner table discussions about who did what in the army cement this education. Zionism provides the (very shaky) moral grounds on which this education grows. According to its narrative, it is your duty to fight for the survival of the Jewish people, for the protection of Israel as our god-given country, and, anyway, we Israelis have no choice in the matter of war because fighting was forced on us by the savage Arabs.

Here is a drama of devotion, mission, and self sacrifice that will get an eighteen-year-old inspired to go to the army, where he or she can give of herself to her people, fulfill her adult potential, and gain credentials as a "successful" Israeli civilian. Thus we have an education of violence, forcefulness, and compliance officially sponsored by the state and embraced by much of its citizens. This leaves our disempowered youth completely reliant on the existing social order to provide them with a sense of their own strength and self worth.

Despite being subjected to such an education, there are a steadily growing number of young people who are questioning the truths manufactured for them by army generals and the corporate elite. A burning desire for truthful answers, real substance, and respect drives much of our youth to splinter from society's mainstream and seek alternatives. Often this finds its expression in drugs, violence, and other destructive phenomenon. We can attribute much of this to the inability of educators, social activists, parents and other members of adult society to offer an accessible alternative to our youth. Such alternatives, when practiced with commitment, passion, and patience are hugely in demand. On busses, in the streets, and at every school I visit I find young people who are asking questions and seeking answers and alternatives. Such an immense strength, (cutting across Israel's class differences, ethnicities, and other social divisions) must be empowered if we are to create new foundations for a just society.

During the past two years (May 2003, November 2003, and March 2004) I have had the privilege of guiding over fifty young people who were contemplating their army service through two-day intensive seminars. I, myself, am a conscientious objector, having served a year and a half in the Israeli army before choosing to refuse further service and spending time in prison for my choice. I had begun working on these seminars for youth because I wanted young Israelis to have the alternative information and community needed to make a real choice about military service and about their role in society. This is a choice I didn't have growing up.

Logistically, organizing these seminars proved more manageable than one might expect. They were held with the support of New Profile (a feminist and antimilitarist organization), while the last two seminars, which had higher attendance, enjoyed additional support from the environmentalist organization Green Action, which hosted them. (2) Since these seminars were voluntary undertakings, with organizers (former participants and myself) as well as speakers, guides, and others all volunteering their time, they were quite inexpensive to run, costing New Profile less than $400 per seminar.

For the young people who attended these seminars it was an opportunity to meet other people who were contemplating military service and/or going to refuse it. They came to the seminars because they were anxious and curious about their army service. Those who were newer to the political debate about army service came because of this anxiety and their need for more information. Those who were already thinking about refusal wanted to be more sure about their decision. On the one hand, they wanted to deepen their arguments for refusal; on the other hand, they wanted to be confronted by views opposing refusal and have the chance to test their views and argue for them. These intensive seminars made it possible by providing participants with deep, interesting, and varied perspectives on issues regarding Israeli society, the Palestinian/ Israeli conflict, and military service. With each day beginning at 8:00 a.m. and ending at midnight, participants were able to contemplate and debate such issues together in an open and safe environment.

The young people who attended the seminars were sixteen to nineteen years old. Most of them came from the center of the country and were of upper middle-class European background, though with each seminar the participants became more diverse both in their backgrounds and in their positions on the issue of military service. Whereas most of the first seminar's participants were planning to refuse the draft before they even joined the seminar, by the third seminar at least fifty percent were planning to enlist prior to attending the seminar. The third seminar also included many more participants from the north and south of the country as well as many more participants of Middle Eastern and less affluent backgrounds. Since the outreach for these seminars was done personally through people former participants and I knew, the seminars grew larger (from nine to nineteen to twenty-nine) and more diverse each time. The preparations for the last seminar were organized largely by former participants.

In planning the seminars we were aware of the need to create an atmosphere conducive to the discussions ahead. This feeling of openness and safety was especially important because the seminars asked the participants to reexamine core convictions of Israeli society. Most importantly, by participating in the seminars many of the young people put themselves in direct conflict with their parents, most of whom were very unsupportive of their children even contemplating refusing to serve in the army. After all, most of the parents of these youths, and often their grandparents too, had served in the Israeli army and believed, as most Israelis do, that if Israel had no army, there would be no Jewish state and therefore no Jewish people.

Not surprisingly, then, the issue of parents and family came up frequently in the group and in personal conversations. As emerged during my subsequent work with eight male refusers, each had a distinct story, though overall they split into two groups around the issue of parental support. Some refusers were the sons of political activists who supported them, while others were sons of disapproving parents who varied in their support and/or condemnation. Young people in this latter group ended up feeling that the decision was their own; we did a lot of work with their parents (a joint meeting and constant dialogue) to help bring the disapproving parents around so that they'd support their children personally, even if not politically.

The seminars placed their young participants at the center. Much thought went ahead of time into considering the process they would go through. Structurally, each seminar was divided into about seven two-to-three hour sessions, with each session hosted by different people who addressed a variety of issues. These sessions included visits by esteemed university professors who came to speak with us, a tour of Jaffa hosted by the Arab Counsel of Jaffa, and speaking with heads of prearmy programs, religious figures, soldiers who had refused to serve in the military as well as soldiers still enlisted, and a host of others. We started the seminars by talking about broad issues that cut across a wide range of topics and stirred intense discussions. These included the pros and cons of army service, the Israeli Occupation, the Nakba (Palestinian Catastrophe of 1948), militarization, martyrdom, feminism, Judaism, Islam, Zionism, and many more. We concluded the seminars with the most pointed conversation--a conversation with a serving soldier. This last event made possible a direct and concrete discussion of the pros, cons, and emotions involved in conscription.

The pace of each seminar (intensive during the day but relaxed at night and in the mornings) helped keep the young people comfortable, challenged, and interested. We had a silent period in the morning and before every talk. There was time between sessions to break down many of the issues we discussed earlier and expand on them through workshops (e.g. on Judaism, Islam, refusal, the Palestinian/Israeli conflict, etc.) We combined this intense focus with fun, community-building activities like joint meals, trips to the sea, movies, tours, videos, and games. We also made space for private time, including meditation and free time. We put emphasis on little things like having the food be delicious, and on substantive ones like bringing in interesting people (e.g., a Palestinian friend of mine).

These activities were all centered on the young participants' internal world. This allowed us to reach them in new ways, to keep them involved and challenged. The seminar was built so that each view presented would be confronted by another, letting no perspective, thought, or opinion go unchallenged. This dialectical process flooded and excited the participants; it made them eager to share, to debate, and to express their doubts, dilemmas, and newly found perspectives. When not in planned joint activities, we would hold much of our discussion in small groups, where I would throw in a question now and again, just to let the group know that they were being taken care of. Nobody went unnoticed. These more intimate settings encouraged everyone to talk freely, and gave them the time and space to do so. We set a tone that valued listening, participation, and caring, and I tried to set a personal example of it to foster this mode of being. In small group settings I tried to make sure that everyone had a chance to express him or herself, and when someone looked especially troubled I would ask him or her what was wrong. Sometimes, when I was particularly troubled, they would take care of me, too.

Through this process participants began to form their own personal perspectives, new and distinct from their former views. At the same time this process also gave rise to collective thinking and shared views. Through it we came to see how individual and shared ideas interact, and how beliefs develop reciprocally and contextually as well as individually. Every aspect of the seminars was geared towards creating this new awareness. From the cooked vegan food to the joint planning and running of the seminar--including the topics of discussion, the small discussion groups, the rules and regulations, meditation, games, and more--everything was geared to create a sense of freedom of expression and imagination that is so lacking in our ordinary lives. We created a space where people wanted to be, where they could be listened to and be truly present.

The seminars provided not only alternative content and discussion but also alternative ways of being within a group and as individuals. We did not just debate and discuss possible alternatives; we practiced and fulfilled those alternative ways of being. Many emails that participants sent us after the seminars ended comment passionately on the changes these young people had undergone as a result of our work together. One girl summarizes the effects of the third seminar as follows: "During these two days I felt really healthy, physically, mentally, and otherwise, just really, really healthy."

Such an experience had inspiring, and sometimes surprising, results. No one who participated, including the guest speakers, came out the way they came in. We all got to be present to the strength we have as a group and as individuals. A good example was the conversation we had with soldiers in active duty who came to speak at the seminar, for the last conversation in each of these seminars is always with a soldier. In schools and other contexts Israeli young people will always be lectured by a soldier who is in a place of an authority that is axiomatic in Israeli society. Here soldiers will rarely be challenged. However, in our case, the soldiers' visits constituted a unique situation, for here the young people contemplating the draft with serious misgivings were the majority, not the odd questioning voice in an obedient crowd.

I remember one especially moving meeting during the first seminar. It was with an Ethiopian-Israeli officer and one of his soldiers. They sat down with us and we had one of the most sensitive and touching conversations I have ever participated in. Among the stories this young officer told us was one about a time when he had to close a gate, possibly at a checkpoint, that would keep Palestinians out of some place (in this instance it hardly matters where). He felt so badly for the Palestinians that he nonetheless decided to open the gate, yet when people pushed through he was hurt by rocks hurled at him. He asked us if this was fair, and our young people had no answer to this question. They, in turn, asked him if he sometimes feels like an occupier, and he said that he does, sometimes, but he also came back with a question, asking them if they really believe that peace can be accomplished. When our seminar participants responded that they do believe peace can be made, this young man remembered next how he used to play soccer with Arabs when he was younger and how well they got along.

There were no conclusive answers in this conversation with our visitor, only questions and uncertainties and a lot of care. At the end both sides felt as if there was no side, that they were facing the same dilemmas. The officer wished us good luck, and we wished him the same. What was perhaps most amazing in this loaded situation was the fact that the seminar participants did not use their authority and power as the dear majority to oppress or silence the soldier but rather to attend to him and to listen and share deeply. Such conversations transformed soldiers before our eyes from their initial self-assured position to a much more complex, self-aware, attentive, and contemplative way of being. It was moving to see how their awareness of the contradictions of their own position as soldiers ended up mirroring back to us our own way of being. It was truly something to be seen: how deeply, and in such a short time, a group of high school students, together for only two days, could touch these soldiers and create a whole new kind of conversation on the issue of military service.

The kind of questioning and rethinking generated by the seminars led our youth to further activism and accomplishments. Among them was the creation of a group (mentioned above) of eight young men whom I guided, who went on to plan further actions, though they were hardly the only ones (or even the main one) to carry out activities. Various young people organized tours and seminars, a graffiti campaign, and direct actions meant to educate and raise awareness among their peers. Some students sneaked into their school at night and hung banners criticizing militarism in the school. On another occasion one girl caused debate at her school when she refused to sing the national anthem because it excludes Palestinian citizens of Israel. These and similar actions created quite a stir in the young people's schools and communities, showing what true bravery is: standing up for what you believe to be right even if it's a very unpopular thing to do.

We also had some unexpected results, notably reports by many participants that they had actually formed closer relationships with their disapproving parents and family following the seminar. This was truly touching and important because, as we had learned, the changing consciousness of individuals is so deeply and sometimes painfully enmeshed in those they love most as well as the larger community around them. It all goes to show that when you provide young people with the information, tools, and space to make their own choices, magical things--and real social change--can and will happen.

We, Israelis, have always been keenly aware that our youth is our future. But that, in itself, is not enough. Indeed it is merely a truism. The pressing question is, What future is our youth helping bring about? The New Profile seminars I discuss here reflect an awareness that the critical and creative young people whom we address are the future leaders of our society and must be nurtured as such. Through our seminars and related activities we are slowly laying the foundations for a viable movement of young people who will be able to address the needs of our society in the face of great adversity. The creation of such a movement requires the active participation of the many organizations that are part of a larger movement for social justice in Palestine/ Israel. It also requires support from our friends abroad. It will take much time, effort, and commitment, and it will require that we go beyond what we have been able to achieve so far. But the work this article reports shows that creating a worthy future with and for our young people is possible. It the ultimate challenge, and it demands that we rise to it.

NOTES

(1) A shorter version of this article appeared in News From Within (a publication of the Israeli organization, New Profile) August 2004

(2) New Profile is a feminist organization working to create a civil (as opposed to militaristic) society in Israel. www.newprofile.org Green Action provided the space, knowledge and resources for young people active in environmental and political change. It also runs an "alternative service" program for youth who do not serve in the army.