Roadblocks to learning: studying under fire in Israel.

When I travel to Israel, I travel to a war zone. It is a war between two divergent yet connected people, a war that is dominated by the shadow of Jewish history and the denial of Palestinian rights. Conflictual narratives, resulting in daily destruction and death, shape this war. Israel is a new nation with an old history. A small number of Jews have remained in Israel/Palestine for millennia, but the majority of today's Israelis are immigrants or the children of immigrants. They are Holocaust survivors, exiles from North Africa, other Middle Eastern countries, South Africa, Asia, and Eastern Europe. Most of the Palestinians have roots in the area that extend back over centuries, long before Zionism was a movement, and long before the establishment of any nation state in the region. As a result, Israelis share with Palestinians a historical legacy of displacement, oppression, reactivity, and fear. Israel is a model of a threatened people with a history of victimization who are victimizing others in their struggle for survival.

While the pilot prepares to land at Ben Gurion airport, I prepare for the routine interrogation foreign travelers receive before they enter the county. I am questioned extensively about my purpose for being there, my course work, my friends, my family, and others I know in Israel. I am asked where I plan to go, and if my plans include travel to the West Bank and Gaza. Leaving the airport, I observe those entering the airport undergoing the "for Israelis and Westerners" version of a checkpoint. In a noncombative manner, soldiers search cars and open trunks. In contrast, checkpoints for Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza are often unpredictable, hostile, and humiliating experiences. Either way, these security rituals are constant reminders of the continuing Israeli/Palestinian conflict, and of Israeli security vigilance. The military presence is a vivid and normalized aspect of daily life for Israelis, but jarring to Americans and others not used to such an obvious military presence.

The Lesley University building where I teach is located in the coastal town of Netanya. Before anyone can enter the building, they must go through a security check. This experience is replicated throughout Israel. My bag is searched before I enter a store. I must show my key or identification to enter my hotel. These security measures have sensitized me to the daily life of Israelis. For them, roadblocks, bombings, interruptions in public transit, and the constant ringing of cell phones as a way to stay in touch constitute the landscape of "normal" everyday life.

I teach in the Counseling and Psychology division of Lesley University's Graduate School of Arts and Social Sciences (GSASS) in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and have traveled to Israel for the last eight years to teach in Lesley's GSASS extension in Netanya, just north of Tel Aviv. The course I teach, "Psychology of Women," is a requirement in an interdisciplinary master's degree program in Women's Studies and the Arts. This two-year program serves women working in social services, education, and the arts. Integrating knowledge and research from the fields of gender studies, history, psychology, spirituality/religion, and the arts, it is a cross-disciplinary study of women's development, relevant psychological theories, and their application to women's lives. Students are organized into cohort groups, and take all their courses together. This program, like most of Lesley's programs in Israel, has a set curriculum, no electives, and is taught in an intensive delivery model. Classes meet for five consecutive days and for eight hours a day, usually during holiday breaks in the fall, spring, and summer.

Students have had ample opportunity to get to know each other by the time they take this course. As they move through the degree program, it is the teacher who becomes the new member of each cohort group, and I am not only a new member but also an American. Last summer, I was the students' first American teacher and therefore a magnet to negative expectations based on rumors and prior experiences with other Americans. Students expected to be judged by American-derived radical feminist notions of women's liberation, and unfairly criticized for the ongoing conflict with the Palestinian people. I, too, had apprehensions based on my own and colleagues' past experiences in Israel. I have often heard Americans speak disparagingly about Israeli students, describing them as highly critical, defensive, and arrogant. Both the students and I needed to deal with cultural stereotypes and their impact on the classroom experience. However, it was my responsibility to foster a climate of acceptance and create an experience that was welcoming and nonjudgmental.

The students in this course, as in other Lesley courses in the Israeli extension, reflect ways power and privilege get allocated across Israeli society as a whole. Most of them (about 70%) are middle-class Ashkenazi Jews, of European descent. They represent the dominant culture in Israel. A minority of students are Mizrachim from North Africa and Sepharadi descendents of the Spanish Diaspora exiled from Spain in the 15th century. They represent the demographic majority, but economically disadvantaged, sectors of Jewish Israeli society. Occasionally, Palestinian Israeli women also enroll in the course. This past year there were none. I have not yet taught recent immigrants from Russia and Ethiopia, as they can't yet afford this relatively expensive graduate program. (The cost of the Lesley program is almost triple that of an Israeli graduate program.)

This past year there were twenty students in the class, twelve of them from metropolitan Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and Haifa. The remaining students came from all over the country. They came from partly collectivized moshavim and from kibbutzim whose collective economy is based in agriculture or industry. A few women traveled from the Golan Heights, located several hours away by train, while others traveled by public transportation from settlements dotted throughout the West Bank. As in an American classroom, their very efforts to be there contributed to their motivation and the tenor of the classroom experience. Also as in the United States, tensions between those from the dominant culture and those from subordinate cultures were also part of the fabric of the classroom. What makes this different from an American classroom is the specific impact of the close and continuous state of war on the society at large and on women in particular. The ongoing state of war creates camaraderie and a sense of connection across the differences that divide Jewish Israelis.

Each day there were at least a few people late for class. They were detained because of a roadblock, or because a suspicious person on a bus caused everyone to disembark and await the arrival of the authorities. These students arrived tense and tired. In addition to handling issues familiar to many working women, they may have also heard disturbing news about a family member doing military service, about a bombing near where they lived, or perhaps their child or another family member was leaving for an induction center or returning from military service. As the family caretakers, Israeli women's roles in the caring and maintenance of their families and communities include these daily challenges. The students jokingly refer to the course as a vacation from their daily lives. I observed, however, that this "vacation" was constantly interrupted at break times by the students' rush to use their cell phones to check on their families' safety. This ongoing apprehension about what was happening outside the classroom also influenced the course.

Israeli reality is framed within a military context, and the ongoing war between Palestinians and Israelis inescapably shapes women's roles. The distinctive nature of the struggle between Israelis and Palestinians contributes to an environment in which politically created borders determine if one is a legitimate citizen of the state or living under occupation. If one is a Palestinian living within the pre-1967 borders of Israel, as opposed to a Palestinian living within the territories occupied after 1967, one has constricted rights of citizenship, secondary to those of a Jewish Israeli. If one lives within the Occupied Territories, there is no ongoing access to Israel or rights as citizens of a state if you are Palestinian. These basic rights are core issues in the ongoing struggle and a source of tension throughout the society. In this context, Israeli Jewish women are the guardians of the home, producers within the economy, and the reproducers of a nation of warriors. Allied with Israeli men, they are at once complicit in the production of the nation state and locked into the traditional roles it requires.

This condition is normally taken for granted, but when Palestinian Israeli women are present, the discussion shifts. In previous classes, Palestinians have addressed the prejudice they experienced within Israeli society. When Israeli Jewish women have spoken of school, home or work in ways that are inclusive of everyone in the class, Palestinian Israelis have often spoken up to insist that what is being generalized does not apply to them. Over the years I have noticed that when they have spoken of discrimination, Sephardi and Mizrachi women also speak up about their secondary status.

This shift in discourse testifies to the hegemony of the European experience in Israel and the implicit silencing of Palestinian, Sephardi, and Mizrachi women. The voices of subordinated Palestinian women lent support to other marginalized women not identified with the dominant culture. This dynamic illustrates the interrelatedness of gender, race, ethnicity, sexuality, and class within the larger external environment. However, it also reminds us that the classroom is a place where voices that are externally dismissed can be internally inclusive. As in the American classroom, the larger sociocultural context attributes power to those who are members of the dominant class, yet those who are denied power can influence, shift, and change boundaries and identities. When minority identities speak up, their voices can be heard.

At the same time, dissonance in external realities and lack of attunement can silence rather than support students. In the early morning of my first day of class there was a bombing at the bus station in Tel Aviv. Three people were killed, and many more were injured. In the teachers' lounge I mentioned to an Israeli colleague that I would take a few moments at the beginning of my class to recognize the attack and the losses. Her response was that if they did that every time there was an incident, no teaching would take place. I felt sharply aware of the striking differences between Israeli and American daily realities. What was distinctive to me was normative to my colleague. I recalled the value of bringing the tragedy of September 11th into an American classroom and how students felt relief to be able to talk about it and its impact on their lives. However, the nature and frequency of violence and terrorism in Israel and Palestine contributes to an accepted norm of silence in public places. Silence reflects the desire to pretend all is well. It lets one go about one's day and take the violence in stride.

Nonetheless, I did start the class by recognizing the early morning tragedy. I introduced myself, told the students that I heard about the bombing on television that morning, and offered to halt the planned beginning to make room for discussion. Their silence filled the room. In hindsight, I was addressing my own need to raise the issue, not theirs. I assumed that they would want to stop the ordinary to recognize the profundity of such death, but for them the classroom was a "vacation" from daily lives, not a place to recognize the destruction of war. My expectation treaded on their collective "business as usual" behavior. Further, the students also did not want to begin their course work with an unknown American faculty member leading them outside their normative behavioral comfort zone to address politics, conflicts, losses, and fears about the charged nature of what they refer to as the "situation." Just calling this conflict a "war" would require breaking silences and barriers that are hard to address even in the most intimate of circumstances.

Although this beginning was unsettling, I went on to discuss the goals, objectives, and responsibilities for the course. The course addressed three main areas and provided examples and structured discussions within each: critical and constructivist thinking; the history of emerging psychological theory and feminist responses; and second wave feminist theories and praxis. The students had the opportunity to become familiar with questioning the voice of authority, examining the concept that knowledge is constructed and situated, and that "truth" is shaped by beliefs and values. I used mythology to emphasize the role of the narrator in shaping attitudes and belief systems about women's, and consequently, men's lives. An example of such a myth is the story of King David and Baathsheva. As the story goes, David viewed Baathsheva from a rooftop and ordered his men to bring her to him. He had sex with her and returned her to her home and husband. This myth has been glorified throughout western civilization as a love story, but if we examine the scripture we realize that this could be interpreted as a case of kidnapping and rape. In the classroom we discussed the role of the narrator, the intended audience, and the promulgation of myths that reflect the victimization of women as normative and acceptable.

Students examined the developmental and gendered nature of epistemology, how we learn what we know. We analyzed the roles of narrators, what gets left out, and ways mythology maintains and reinforces stereotypes about women. Students also experimented with retelling myths from women's perspectives. Engaging in this exercise at the beginning of the course allowed students to experience the connections between critical thinking, theory, and application. It also helped them see how re-narrating and re-framing from a strength-based perspective are essential aspects of feminist therapy.

This study of myth and narration also helped students explore the power of language and values attached to gender. The fact that in Hebrew the word used for "gender" (min) means kind or type allowed us to probe more deeply the significance of the word and its social value. Gender is indeed more than a kind or a type. Differences between male and female are not neutral. Addressing gender critically was especially relevant in a context where military agendas rely on the polarization of gender roles and the exclusion of ideas that transgress the goals of the military. This section of the course employed critical thinking as a tool for students to investigate consciousness, the limitations of dichotomous thinking, and an emphasis on the value of communication and relationship building.

The second area of study addressed mainstream psychological theories, their origins, approaches to the study of women and gender, and the consequent impact of these theories on the clinical treatment of women. This domain contextualized the political and sociocultural environments of western society, especially in the ways they influenced values attached to gender and the use of gendered power to distinguish women from men in oppressive and hurtful ways. Students explored the witch hunts of the sixteenth-eighteenth century Europe as a sociohistorical moment used to reinforce cultural notions of the inferiority of women and to exclude women from the healing professions. We used this historical moment to illustrate the impact of history when written exclusively by the victors. We viewed the film, The Burning Times (Armstrong 1990), and responded to artwork of that period that illustrated the abuse of women by both the Church and the State.

Along similar lines, students read narratives of the Renaissance that addressed the flowering of a new age but excluded any reference to the abuse of women by the Church and collaborating nation states. As such materials showed, we are educated in ways that suppress narratives of women's and other oppressed people's suffering, while critical inquiry provides information that attests to women's resistance to being written out of history. This thinking informed our discussion of the basic tenets of modern psychiatry, its pathologizing of women, and the resistance to such pathologizing by women analysts and activists. The curriculum included the works of women pioneers who challenged prevailing and emergent psychoanalytic views of women as the weaker sex, the dictum that biology is destiny, and the belief that all women want their wombs filled.

The third area of study included second wave feminist theorists who raised important issues regarding research, clinical diagnosis, treatment, and advocacy for the rights and dignity of women. Students were introduced to the concept of psychological resilience, its embeddedness within relationships, its connection to empowerment and empathy, and its role in creating systems of mutual social support. The relevance of this theoretical body of work to students' sociopolitical context was clear and evident as they addressed the impact of the military nature of their society on their everyday experience. Our focus on ways people, and women in particular, develop a sense of capacity within a world that has historically represented them as inferior to the dominant cultural notions of ability was central both to the course and to their life situations.

In an effort to create varied experiences and to strengthen intellectual bonds, the students were divided into small reading groups that met each day for an extended lunch period. They would select an article and create a presentation to the class based on the theme of the article. These articles addressed developmental milestones in women's lives, specific clinical concerns, and the psychological impact of living in a militarized environment. Students were drawn primarily to the articles that addressed issues of reproduction. They had impassioned discussions of the imperative to marry and have children, what they referred to as the pronatalist nature of contemporary Israeli society and its connection to the ongoing war. They spoke painfully of Israel's ever-present state of war and vigilance.

They also discussed their survival fears and the connection of these fears to Jewish identity and to the state of Israel. They noted that the currently diminishing social benefits and resources did not relax the social expectation that Jewish Israeli women raise large families and care for them. They also examined that same situation from the Palestinian perspective, expressing concerns about the pressures on Palestinian women to reproduce and the impact of those same pressures on them. This demographic discussion exposed a prevailing conundrum about values, contexts, and positionalities where, ironically, both Israeli and Palestinian women experienced a parallel pressure to reproduce. The connection between the current state of conflict, the gendered nature of war, and the significance of women's role in producing soldiers was evident.

Student presentations ranged from the role of the Jewish religious minority in controlling women's rights to abortion and reproductive freedom to a dramatic presentation of a woman seeking an abortion through the National Health Service. One group had a panel discussion that addressed the social pressures to reproduce, the stigma of choosing not to, and the role of the state in influencing women to have several children. They talked about the tenuous nature of their national survival, their fears about death through war, and the resultant responsibilities placed on them as women. The women wanted to support their country and their people, but they did not know how to reconcile the national imperative to procreate with their personal desires to experience what else life had to offer. They spoke of their visibility as procreators, their diminished recognition in other roles, and the specific ways their lives were being directly affected by war. They resented that women's issues were considered by mainstream society as less important than the war effort and wondered how things would be different if peace were achieved with their neighbors.

The final assignment provided students with an opportunity to work with the theoretical framework provided by relational cultural theory. This theory became the intellectual background for dealing with the role of relationships within difficult situations. They were asked to address the realities of their sociocultural context, and to examine the impact of relationships within this context by responding to an existing relationship between an Israeli Palestinian and an Israeli Jewish woman, and to do so in the context of gender, its impact on daily life, and the potential for social change. The assignment was as follows:

   Read the article by Isis Nuhair,
   "Women and Militarization in
   Israel, Forgotten Letters in the
   Midst of Conflict," in Waller &
   Rycenga, Eds. (2001) Frontline
   Feminisms, New York: Routledge,
   which addresses the occupation
   and the military nature of the society
   through a series of letters
   between an Israeli Palestinian and
   an Israeli Jewish woman. Write letters
   to both women, addressing
   feelings, issues and questions that
   surfaced from the reading.
   Describe the relationship between
   the two women; and comment on
   the concepts of connection, resistance
   and empowerment as they
   apply to the women's narratives.

This assignment provided students with an opportunity to apply feminist theory to their reality and to the struggles of women in militarized societies in general.

In this article, Isis Nuhair, a Palestinian Israeli woman, describes her communication with a Jewish Israeli friend, Hilla. The original exchange of letters was part of an assignment in a course Isis was taking at Clark University in Worcester, Massachusetts. The assignment was to interview and analyze the impact of militarization on a woman's life as reflected in a correspondence between the two women. In one letter, Isis asks Hilla: "Could one isolate themselves from the process of militarization? Is it possible for a fish to live without water? I consider my life to be militarized and this militarization is part of my memory and identity" (116). Hilla notes that she came to realize that the militarization process is continuous, persistent. It starts at an early age, and is defined by the construction and interpretation of daily and national events (115).

The students' papers about this correspondence revealed a range of thinking on subjects including their relationship to the military, their national identity, their responsibilities to the state, and to family and relationships. Several students wrote Hilla and Isis joint letters. Many expressed envy about Isis and Hilla's relationship. They wished they had a Palestinian woman in their lives with whom they could talk about the ongoing struggle, and they commended Isis and Hilla for their willingness to talk honestly with each other. This correspondence evoked strong emotional responses. They referenced deaths of loved ones, the closeness of the violence, and the impact of the war on their roles as mothers, caretakers, and women.

One of the students, unsurprisingly, due to our shaky beginning as a class, began her letter to Isis with the following:

   ... To tell you the truth, I was not
   interested in reading your
   exchange of letters with Hilla; I
   was even a little angry at the lecturer
   for burdening us with the
   task of writing letters to you both.
   After reading the letters, I thought
   to myself that this foreigner, from
   over there (America) was playing
   an academic game at the expense
   of those of us living a difficult,
   painful reality; suffering from terrorist
   attacks and bearing the burden,
   while, she from her ivory
   tower in America is forging an academic
   career from us children.... I
   must say that I was incredibly
   shaken up when I started to read
   your exchange of letters and I
   thank both of you and our lecturer
   for allowing me to encounter so
   many terms, dilemmas and issues.

Another student wrote about giving birth:

   First Memory: "A delivery room
   nurse enters the room and says to
   me, 'mazel toy, congratulations,
   another soldier for the IDF (Israeli
   Defense Force) has been born....' I
   burst into tears." She goes on to
   recount her second memory: "I
   accompany my son to the induction
   center. The whole family is
   present. We all hug him, as if to
   say, watch out for yourself ... be
   strong ... we love you ... I remember
   the nurse ... and I burst into
   tears."

The student wrote that words did not have much meaning for her anymore; she no longer had any interest in who was right or wrong. She expressed the fatigue that is common to those under the constant stress of violence. This fatigue often affects the ability to think critically, let alone advocate for new social, political, and economic paradigms.

In another letter to Isis, one student told of her youthful adventures with the Arab girls in the village near her kibbutz, not far from Nazareth where Isis was born. She wrote about how different it is now that the companionship she enjoyed as a youth is no longer possible; the hostility, the suspicion, and the electric fence around the kibbutz represented a microcosm of Israel. She wondered when she became aware of being part of an occupying nation, and asked: "Why do I continue my routine life as if it is a negligible matter?" She drew the analogy between her lack of awareness about the occupation and her lack of consciousness about her personal sexual awareness, societal gender polarization, and glorification of the military.

Hilla's decision not to do military service was a major focus for the students. One woman wrote to Hilla that she respected her decision but did not agree with her choices. This student claimed that when she was younger, she believed that the army was necessary for the survival of the state and acted on that obligation, as Hilla should have. However, she added, today she sees things differently. She no longer sees the army as a necessary defense force but as a tool to occupy and dominate the Palestinian people, and yet she still thought that Hilla should have fulfilled her military obligation. Another woman accused Hilla of placing her burden on others. Since Hilla did not go into the army, she reasoned, others had to take up her share of the responsibility. Many students saw Hilla's resistance to military conscription as an act of self-hatred and an act of war against the state. One student told her that there was a "wide river between them," and that she felt rage and sadness about Hilla's decision to resist military service. Another student wrote that Hilla's actions raised confusion for her about the separation of the state, the society, and the army in Israel. For this woman, army service was a way to contribute to and be an integral part of Israeli society.

By not entering the army, Hilla crossed a boundary unacceptable to most of the students. Letters berated Hilla for not being a Zionist, for not participating in the defense of her country, and for betraying Israel. One woman suggested that since Hilla didn't serve in the army, she had lost the right to criticize Israeli politics. This situation demonstrates that when individuals resist dominant cultural paradigms, their actions cause others grave emotional discomfort. Actions like Hilla's refusing to do military service create a disturbance in how citizens are interconnected. A significant bond is no longer there.

Did Hilla cross the boundaries of gender that made her position more reprehensible? She was saying no to the military, no to nationalism, no to masculine authority. Isis, on the other hand, was saying yes to Palestinian pride, nationalism, and resistance. Even though her affirmation of the Palestinian struggle ultimately is in conflict with Israeli national interest, students affirmed her position but marginalized Hilla's. Hilla's posture brought to the surface their personal conflicts, anger, losses of loved ones, and fears, while Isis's did not. Did their reaction to Hilla reflect the marginalization of women's resistance to war within Israel? Their indignation directed towards Hilla as a refuser seemed connected to this interrelated troika of national icons: state, society, and military. Since Israel's army is a people's army, opting out of the military is opting out of society's responsibilities and privileges.

Within such exacting collective imperatives, the personal ends up conflicting with the political. Many women shared painful accounts of losing husbands, fathers, brothers, and other loved ones in the ongoing war. They expressed their fears about there being no end in sight. One student reflected that everyone in the conflict is a "prisoner of war."

Further, many of the letters extended empathy to Isis. They understood her nationalism, her political identity, and her experience as a conquered minority living under Israeli occupation. She behaved in a way that they admired, respected, and understood. They saw her as strong, though politically misguided. Hilla, on the other hand, challenged them beyond where they were willing to go.

Students struggled with the assignment. Most seemed to respect the relationship between the two women, and some envied their ability to speak openly and honestly about the occupation and its direct impact on their lives. The assignment made visible the gendered nature of relationships within the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and helped students think about it in the context of cultural arrangements of social and political power. Although the course addressed history, psychological historiography, and feminist multicultural perspectives, its most enduring contribution was its focus on the role women play in the survival of a nation.

As I reflect back on this experience, I recognize that I started the course outside the cultural boundaries that determined what was permissible. I needed to be more alert to what was necessary to build empathy within this setting. I recognize that feeling understood, nurtured, and respected is basic to creating a positive learning environment. It is not that I didn't already know this, but I had to learn it again from within another cultural reality. In many ways the course provided the students a "laboratory" in which to examine how gender and the needs of the state affected their everyday lives. In some ways it also provided me with a "laboratory" in which to explore ways of teaching that extend the boundaries of what is permissible.

Further, teaching in the state of Israel a cultural blend of theocracy and secularism in a perpetual state of war can offer American educators insight into the changing dynamics within American educational institutions as well. It brings to mind questions such as: What is the impact of religious fundamentalism in a security obsessed state? How does a glorified and privileged military affect society? Does legislation like the Patriot Act in the United States polarize and determine the discourse regarding war? Will the debate between those who support or oppose the war in Iraq be silenced? What role would a universal draft play in post 9/11 United States? How is fear employed in the silencing of dissent and critical analysis? These questions have and will continue to face educators in a growing fear-based and retaliatory environment.

Americans are collectively circling their psychological wagons in response to a perpetual war against terrorism. Though this response is understandable, it also invites new paradigms for teaching within this ongoing struggle. Israel models the results of making military priorities paramount and living with their social and political consequences. As a result, it is caught in a cycle of continuing violence. The United States may soon find itself in a similar predicament. Such developments make it urgent for us educators to foster in our students a critical thinking that cuts through accepted norms, freeing itself to re-envision possibilities for a changing social and national consciousness.

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