Never Free of Suspicion - Zvi Bekerman

7/24/2019 Never Free of Suspicion - Zvi Bekerman

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10.1177/1532708603251808ARTICLECulturalStudies CriticalMethodologies May2003BekermanNeverFreeofSuspicion

Never Free of Suspicion

Zvi BekermanHebrew University of Jerusalem

In this article, the author reflects on the personal insights he gained whileinvolved in a 2-year research project at two bilingualPalestinian/Jewishschools in Israel. The most salient characteristic of his venturerelates to the ongoing sense of suspicion he felt throughout his work. Thesuspicion (of a civil sort) was shaped at many and different intersections. Itcould be perceived in meeting with and between allteachers, parents,children, and investigators. Not surprisingly, it invaded his most privatesphereshome, spouse, and past memories. Suspicion seemed to becomein thoseplacesshadedby national ideology that,in ourmodern world,is to

say all. The article is also a comment on some theoretical and methodologi-cal issues relevant to the social sciences today, in particular those dealingwith complexities such as identity and culture.

Keywords:peace education; intergroup encounters; conflict reso luti on; critical ethnography

For thepast2 years,I have been involved in a rathersmallevaluative researcheffort supported by the Ford Foundation (Grant 990-1558) on two out of thethree existing bil ingual schools in Israel. The purpose was to assess a variety ofschool practices, mainly those connected to bilingual and bicultural education.In a sense, it was a nice project that promised to further my knowledge on edu-cational efforts toward coexistence in conflict-ridden areas.

I have finished writing my sections in the reports (Bekerman & Horenczyk,2001, 2002) andhave hadtime to publish a coupleof papers(Bekerman, 2002,in press; Beckerman & Horenczyk, in press) . Im relatively happy with the out-come. I seem to have found a way, while approaching the enterprise critically,to present a positive picture of an initiative worth supporting. With the reportfinished, I have had time to reflect on the experience. Truth be told, I hadreflected on what was happening to me since the very first day I entered theschool in Misgav in the northern part of Israel but had found no outlet for myreflections and considered them not to be relevant for a report to be read by

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Authors Note: GabrielHorenczykfrom theSchool of Educationat theHebrewUniversityof Jerusalemconducted the research jointly with me, Aziz Haidar from the Truman Institute at the same university

was the Arab culture consultant to the project, and Nader Schade was our research assistant. I owe all a

profound debt fortheirfriendship in dialoguethough I hold none responsible forthe views expressed in

thisarticle. Mygratitudeis alsoextendedto VivienneBursteinfor herinsightful commentsand editorialwork.

Cultural Studies Critical Methodologies, Volume 3 Number 2, 2003 136-147

DOI: 10.1177/1532708603251808

2003 Sage Publications


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foundations or any other interested shareholders. (I think they are wrong, butI

also consider thepossibilitythat I might be wrong.I have also given up on reed-ucating the public to appreciate subjectivity as much as they appreciate subjec-tive objectivity.) My reflections focus on suspicion or should I say suspicionsthat emerge in multiple, ethnic, professional, and social intersections, albeit

while trying, hard and with suspicion, to sustain a cri tical eye on al l sides.Before going into the intricacies I bumped into and the consideration they

elicited, some biographical notes are in place. I was born in Argentina in 1950,came to Israel in 1967, and since 1995 have worked full-time at the School ofEducation of the Hebrew University. Im a Jew and have been somewhattrained as an educational anthropologist: Im pretty well read in a variety ofcritical, dialogical, and sociohistorical approaches, and I believe that my 50years have helped me develop into a rather good human being.

That we all play on stages we have not built must already be the agreed

knowledge of many. That our words do not belong to us but instead we seem tobelong to them must be another. And still look at the choices, Argentinean,Israeli Jew. Nobody is hanging over my head threatening to shoot me. I couldhave chosen not to use national/religious/ethnic categories. I could have cho-sen multiple creative ways to introduce myself. I could have said somethingabout my eyes being blue, something about my daughters. But I havent.Partially, I know the choices I made were made because of what will come laterbut also because of the setting within which Im writing.

Israel is not an easy country in which to live. Those who reside within itsphysical borders are continually defined and confined by national, religious,and ethnic boundaries. Although arguably imaginary, these boundariesbecome painfully real in Israel. People and circumstance are perpetually occu-

pied with the work of marking them. Even in those rare instances when stepsare taken to reinterpretthe meaning of differences,there seems to be an unwrit-ten rule that states that to transcend painful boundaries one must first affirmthem, thereby jeopardiz ing the healing process. Indeed, in Israel there seems tobe no way out. You are always a national, religious, or ethnic something andyou stick, or are stuck, to it.

So here I was, an Israeli, Hebrew-speaking Jew doing research in a schoolthat included both Palestinian and Jewish children, Jewish and Palestinian par-ents, Palestinian and Jewish teachers , and Jewish and Palestinian coprincipals.If you want an insight into the very basic ideology that directed the schoolsefforts, look back to the last sentence. Pay attention to the change in orderbetween Palestinian and Jew/Jew and Palestinian and start becomingacquainted with sensitivities I have become socialized into in the 2 years of my

research and still think about thinking on having to start any next sentencewith the opposite order (Palestinian would come firs t this next time). As if any-one would pay attention to these little subtleties. Some do.

Symmetryand equalitywere the keywords of the educational enterprise. AndI never made up my mind if I had accepted the rules out of true cross-cultural

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sensitivity or just not to let anyone ever call me a fake. I do think words are

important, but I know theories on languaging andgames well enough to recog-nize that meanings can always be twisted in the next turn.

An Israeli Jew (the Argentinean was irrelevant for the research eventsforthe most part), I thought, had to think, if to legitimatize his work, that he hadto share power with Palestinian researchers in such an enterprise. Cultures andtheir meanings had to be bridgedthat was clear. And cultures are carried byand in languagesand even an Arabic-speaking Israeli Jew could not havemanaged the research by herself or himself. Arabs are Arabs and Jews are Jews,and no theoretical pirouettes will allow you to justify to any interested partythat false national consciousnesses and national languages have subjugated usall. So, both a Palestinian consultant and a Palestinian research coordinator

who would contribute and legitimize the work were included in the project.Thislastsentencemightgiveyouthewrongideathatitwascleartomefromthe

start that I could manage all by myself. That was not the issue. I realized inadvance that language would be a barrier at times (though all Palestinians inIsrael are rather fluent in Hebrewif they werent, their lives would be muchmore miserable than what they are today). I realized as well that some behaviors

would be in need of explanation. What real ly bothered me was that whenaccepting the need for translators of sorts , I was also giving in to a view that rei-fied language and one that I could notbecause of my own experienceagreeto. I kept asking myself which languages are coming onboard.

The Palestinian consultant brought in his histories and theories; so did thePalestinian research coordinator. I had my own languaging imbued in, youhave it, the military oppression in Argentina, my English private school also in

Argentina, my own sense of minority, my immigrant Hebrew, and my own the-

ories.And I asked myself what languagesI thought I would have to understand.Was it the parents Arabic, and if so, which one? The one of the Jerusalemitewho worked for the municipal ity as a trash collector or the Sachnin physic iantrained in Spain with whom I could share my hatred for dictatorship in mymother tongue (surely with some translation as wellSpanish is not the sameacross Spain or across the ocean)? Was it the teachers Arabic or the childrens

Arabicthe one least hybrid because their young ages had not yet let them befully socialized into the Hebrew environment, which characterizes even themost authentic Israeli Palestinian villages (the ones that were left after theNaqba)? I had no solution to my queries. Not to speak of the possibil ity of fall-ing into the trap that only Arabic speakers were my problem. I knew too wellOrtega y Gassets maxim on language being both exuberant and deficient. Iknew Hebrew also had to be translated to be understood. But Hebrew was not

an issue in a research project under ideological rather than theoretical suspi-cion. I hadsome faith in some basic human commonalities (a dangerousfaith iftreated as secure). I thought we could develop a relationship that would allowfor dialogue and consensus with all researchers and participants and then hopeforthe best. In thelong run, I realizedhoping forthe best wasnot good enough;

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suspicion (or better suspicions) was to be found at every step. Thats exactly

what I did.I have already stated that Im happy with the product, but this means little

when considering meaning shaping. Its hard to have no place from where tolook and be able to say I had understood. In general, I know as well that there isnothing to be understoodthat understanding has more to do with the possi-bility of sustaining a next turn in a conversation than with any fact of thepast. Understanding becomes an unfinished process, always on its way some-

where, at times risky and at others sheltered, but always unfinished. And yet thereport was finished and submitted, and I write this article asking myself whatcan be achieved by a report that ultimately does not reflect the very basic pre-mises itsauthor sustains.I have learned to bridge some understanding with col-leagues in my, and nearby, theoretical surroundings. I have found words toattack and defend my views with less sympathetic academic characters. But I

still do notknowhow to write sayingtrustme in spite of my havinglittle faithin what we all have come to believe is the authorial language of science.

Comingintoschool forthe first time wasexcitinganew adventure with itsnew worries. I was there early in the morning before anyone else had arrived. I

wanted, as if it were possible, to catch the beginning. I knew only gods havehad that opportunity, and I realized how immodest and ridiculous was myexpectation. Still, for the 2 years, I arrived before anyone else. The first time

was specia l. I had enough time to take notes on the school building, the yard,the classrooms; later, I realized once again that the limits of context are leftunannounced. Contextual relevance could have started before, long before, in

Jerusalem: the city, the most symbolic site of conflic t, without any good reasonother than that we all seem to agree that it was. Indeed, it is a powerful state-

ment about the uselessness of reasoning and the power of unreasoned coher-ence. And what about the outer limit of Sachnin, with the neighboring Rafaelmilitary industry that has grown at the expense of the Palestinian village, andMisgav, the outskirts of the Zionist enterprise of Judaizing the northern part ofIsrael? Ultimately, Jerusalem and Rafael and Sachnin and Misgav made it intothe report under the category of political issuesa shallow though powerfulcategory that did not reflect particular human attachments or needs. Im stillleft with the sense that I might not have studied two schools but rather onecomplex system.

I kept givingin to national ideology. I hadalso been fashionedby thepower-ful machinery developed by the nation-state, in the form of massive educa-tional efforts that market universal (anonymous) literacy. I was a successfulproduct of that which was made to be seen by detailed practices as natural or

banal. I had a flattened sense of identity and individuality measured against acontingent other. How could it be different? The whole world was organizedaccording to this view, and nationalism is indeed still the most powerful ideol-ogy on earth. For a while, I had tried to overcome this limitation. This put meunder continuous suspicion. From within, Jews asked if it were at allpossibleor



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necessary to overcome nationalism or, when liberal, told me I would do better

to think on how to change the system from within (I have not yet made up mymind if they are ignorant or malintentioned). From outside (why outside? out-side of what?), Palestinians threatened to accuse me of looking for new ways tosubdue them while I kept enjoying the freedom (apparent) of being a citizen ina state I could call my own, something they clearly could not. Language andideology made me suspicious in theeyes of allothers; my own training made mesuspicious in my own.

Early morning at theschool, some kids arrivefirst; they look at me curiouslybut goon with their doings as if not paying too much attention to my presence:an Argentinean Jewish new immigrant to Israel. My Argentinean blood,there is no such thing, is Polish from my fathers side, there is no such thingeither, andRussianfrom my mothers side, again no such thing.To make things

worse, or better, my mothers mother came with the Baron Hirsh, at age 2, to

settle the Jewish colonies in northern Argentinarefuge and solace from Rus-sian pogroms, initiated by Russian masses incited by the czars policies, notbenevolent enough to any people let alone to poor peasants. The Argentine is abig land still in the periphery, cleansed of anything that could taste native orBlack by a dedicated army of ruthless European descendents.

In that Argentina, I was raised by what seemed to be a liberal father who Iknew sinned in being too proud of his Ashkenazy Polish Jewish descent and hislow disgust for Sefardic Jews. Other than that, he indeed cared about his work-ers at the small industry he owned and about the non-Jewish Polish rebels whohadresistedthe Germans duringthe SecondWorldWar, forwhom he hadbuilta social club where they could practice memory.

I could praise myself forhaving adopted liberal outlooks.I knew toolittle to

hate anyone, and what surrounded me was too similar for me to realize if, atall,I could be sympathetic to difference. When coming to Israel, I sojourned for awhile at a kibbutz, the true expression of Ashkenazy hegemony, and later at theuniversity where a just stratifying system had made sure that only fewSefardic Jews can study, to say nothing of a much lower percentage of Arabs.

Academic studies had furthered my liberal postures, and I had grown to expressleftist critical views about the regions politics. I had become so intelligent , Icould even work at deconstructing my own critical views.

The kids played in the yard, waiting for the bell to ring. Not all played soc-cer. They played in separate groups, and I knew that Jews played separate fromPalestinians. I thought I was better. I thought I could not recognize Palestin-ian, butit seemed I could.I could andI couldnt. I think what I could recognize

was more European and non-European, or lighter and darker tones, as if indeed

migration had not been part of the world for thousands of years. Lighter anddarker proved, luckily, not to be good enough. It was becoming apparent thatPalestinian and Sefardic resembled one another. But lighter Palestinians resem-bled Ashenazi Jews,and youhad thetransgressors, those whose tone modalities

were borderline and confused the world, once again. Skin tone would not take



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me too far; language and accentuation became later markers I could hold to. I

knew the problem was looking for the differences. I had differences in mind,andI waslookingfor them in theworld. Not surprisingly, I could find them.

Years ago, Ethiopian Jews immigrated to Israel. The rhetoric that accompa-nied their arrival was full with never again sorts of declarations. The system

wanted to absorb them into society without putting them through the Euro-pean melting pot thathad characterizedNorth African (Jewish Sefardic) immi-grant absorption in the 1950s and 1960s. Of course, it did not work, and Israel

was left with open racism. Knowing black was light ref lection, by itself mean-ingless (not that anything canhave meaning by itself), I hadworked hard nottosee black; I thought I had made some progress.

After visiting the school a couple of t imes, I arrived one morning to find Ihad been christened. I had become, in the words of my new young friends, theone who asks funny questions. It sounded bad for theoretical reasons, but I

knew they liked me when they ran to hug me, calling out my new name thatmorning. I was shocked by my reaction. Hugging the two Jewish children back

was rather easy. A kinetic retreat, one of those that could send into recession anyschizophrenic, characterized my reaction to the other two Palestinian children(by the way, one of them a bright blond Christian Palestinian, a member of aminority himself, or is it in Jewish Israel a double minority?). Still, I wasable tohug them and hoped my bodily reaction would go unnoticed (Ill never know;

we became friendly throughout the 2 years, and Ive learned to hug them withease by now).

What I had finally experienced was that racism was not in mind but in body.Mayberacismis too harsh a word. I allowed myself to be hesitant when comingin contact with what, according to my protocols on cleanliness, seemed to be

less clean (usually economically disadvantaged people seemed to fit thedescriptionthe poorand beggars whomfortunately I havehad little opportu-nity to meet). The Palestinian kids did not fully fit this description. Whatcould have triggered my reaction? I had indeed, after 32 years in Israel, becomea closet Israeli Jewish bigot. Nationalism had taken its prey, again.

Was this recognition good for my attempts at understanding the world ofthe schools I was researching? Confronting my newly uncovered sensibilitiesmade me feelbetter. I wasnow at least sustaining an open dialogue with myself.I was a racist and I knew it. I could rationalize further and say that the racism Ihad found was remnants of early bodily racism and that because I had workedhard for years at cognitively overcoming it through study and conversation, I

was well on my way out of further problems. No rationalization freed me frommy worrybut worry of what? Not being objective? I had known for long that

there is no such thing as looking from nowhere. So maybe it was that I thoughtthere were more and less good places from which to observe. The solution waskeeping an open dialogue. With whom to dialogue was the next question.

My spouse was a good choice. With my spouse, I shared three, wonderfullyalike and different daughters. She was born in Israel to Iraqi and Greek parents



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(Israel is indeed an imagined community). That makes her an Israeli Jew but of

theSefardicsortnoeasythingtobeinacountrythatdreamsofplayingsoccerand basketball only in the European leagues. Her father, an intelligent chap,realized quietly what was going on. He pushed all his kids through the educa-tional system andsucceeded in positioning them relatively well withinthe Jew-ish Israeli structure. Success had its price. The price, not readily acknowledged,had to do with a sense of discomfort with whatever had to do with Sefardicsounds, colors, behaviors, proximity, and much more. Sefardic Jews were notthe first aspired dreams of our national heroes; they were a default option afterthe Holocaust erased the Ashkenazi preference. Sefardic Jews naturally dis-like the Arabs. Some say their place in society can only be sustained if Pales-tinians keep holding the bottom. Elites seem always in need of someone to stepon. My wife was under suspicion.

We have grown together for many years now. We have changed one to the

side of the other. She teaches at primary school. She works two jobs and getspaidonlyfor one.Im morelucky; I alsowork attwo jobsand get recognition inboth of them. Today, all her students (male and female alike) spend their timecorrecting sexist math and language books, adding the female endings to

whichever word in Hebrew allows for it (the sexis t books are all authorized bythe Ministry of Education in our enlightened country). Changes, quietchanges, have occurred in her life all along. Only recently has she come to statethem openly, a welcomed but not surprising development. Regarding Arabs,she is still ambivalent. She hasalways thought of me as an extreme leftist (only asomewhat born rightist could think of me as in the extreme). When I tell hermy stories of the bilingual school , my sense of amazement, pride, and agitation

when seeing both the Naqbe day (Arab memorial of the tragic 1948 Zionist

success) and the independence and memorial days (of Israel and its armedforces) equally accounted for and commemorated in the schools, she discardsthem as sensibilities that might have no place and no future. As if sayingnaturedid notmean thingsto be this way. Im under suspicion. Sheis notsureI understand the world well enough to be able to judge reality.

At the same time, her polit ical views have changed. She believes we need tofind a solution for the Palestinian people and is sick of politicians who, thoughin opposite parties, speak the same language and make the same errors. She isstill very upset when I compare what Palestinian Israelis suffer with the suffer-ing of Sefardic Jews in Israel, but even in this messy subject, she seems to bemore accepting. Seeing her work at her school, theoriz ing about human equal-ity and how systems fail what otherwise would be successful children, I sensethat very soon we might be talking an ever more shared meaning, though still

translations will be required in spite of us both speaking Hebrew (luckily ourpartnership is not being researched; thus, we are not subject to the expectationof appointing a language consultant).

With her, there is l ittle place for my confusion. I was lucky my daughterswere old enough for me not to have to consider registering them in a bilingual



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school. To judge from the past , my spouse would have opposed it, and I would

have agreed under protest. She has always offered, with her behavior, easy waysout from my own ambivalence; I could have stayed a bigot and dump it on her.So, now Im again under my own suspicion.

What exactly was confusing me was confusing in itself. I was afraid I wouldnot be able to see. But to see what? Because of my theoretical training, I wantedto uncover how Palestinians and Jews get done. I knew they could only beconstructs, and I wanted to get a good look at how they were worked at. Theschool turned out to be a very difficult place at which to look at this work. Thebasic premises of those who had created it made the issue difficult. They hadcreated an educational environment that purposely, from the start andthroughout, categorized people not by constructing them but by preventingeven the most minute attempt to dismantle even the tiniest brick of their iden-tity. As in Israel, at school (no surprise, even the best intentioned educational

settings seem to replicate their surroundings) a Jew is a Jew anda Palestinian is aPalestinian, even when some might be Armenian (counted at school, in theadministrative game of symmetry, as Palestinians, as are other products of loveat the borderswhile crossing them).

Talking to parents, I had the sense they disagreed, but I could not say so. Itwould make me suspicious that I was betraying them. Palest inian parentsrisked losing the respect of their communities for sending their children toschool. They were under suspicion, too, just forsending their kids willinglyto aJewish school in a Jewish settlement. But what else could they do? RighteousIsrael had made sure the educational options open to them, within the regular,segregated Arab education in Israel, were inappropriate enough for upwardlymobile Palestinian parents not to want their children to go there. A low per-

centage of success was the best they could expect in the regular system, and ifthey wanted their kids to go on to university, they needed to make sure they helpthem by joining an educational initiative that offered excellenceexcellenceboth at levels of academic achievement and at two other types of excellence.They wanted their children to speak Hebrew without an Arabic accentuationand to knowit well enough as a mothertongue so asto make suretheir children

will not suffer as they had when joining any of the Israeli academic institut ions.They wished also for their children to gain a little (a lot) of what they identifiedas that which accounted for Jewish Israeli kids success, thats to say, self-confi-dence. What was fascinating from my perspective was that I had a sense that

what they wanted was that their kids join the modern world. But in complexIsrael, there is little place foran unaffected modernworld. All is a national issueand will stay that way. Thus, they seemed to be rightfully under suspicion for

want ing their kids to be too Jewish. National sensitivities exact a high price;they allow forno naturalparental feelings of wishing their kids to partake in abetter lot. Any step in this direct ion is a betrayal. A double one. The fi rst is fortaking steps easily interpreted as abandoning their national identity, and theother is for abandoning their religious tradition of old. Fundamentalism, that



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great invention of the modern West, is indeed an outgrowth of national

ideologies.I also sensed they did not care as much as Palestinian rhetoric dictates about

some national issues that seemed to be central to schoolideology. I wasnot ableto say this openly in the interviews. Suspicion threatened me at every step. Oneof the easiest ways to overcome a difficult question could be an innuendo thatthe questioner was partial too. I tried at times to voice my doubts, but usuallythe answer I got ended back in a declaration on the importance of strengthen-ing national identity as well as coexistence. But raising my doubts throughquestions was my own way of being suspicious of the interviewees. Being aminority must indeedbe difficult, havingalways to hide even themost naturalinstincts toward the well-being of your children. National identity was indeedpowerful, so much so that it was able to stop such natural instincts fromdeveloping openly. Needless to say, their willingness to have their kids speak

perfect Hebrew also left me questioning which type of Arabic the researchershould know. I asked myself as well why it was that I never pushed my ownunderstandings of the situation far enough in the interviews. Well, for one,there was the possibility that I would damage the good relations I had devel-oped; then there wasthe dangerthat my research could be tinted(too much) bymy anti-nation-state ideology, and so forth. I have not found a solution, yet.There is no way out from my problem, I think, and no way of writing a reportand explaining this other than my short attempt here while trying to write, inthe words of honorable academic journals, a nonfiction story. But stories arenot yet the stuff of well-accepted reports that will grow into new funding.

And then there were the Jews, the ones who in the Jerusalem school pulledtheir children out from second grade. These, as others who have stayed, send

their kids in order to feel better. They send them also because, being likewiseupwardly mobile, they want their kids to go to experimental, particularistic,and possible fashionable educational initiatives. These parents, being centerleft and more (at times), want to express, courageously, their ideologies in theirdeeds. But between ideologies and practices there is a gap, and confronting thegapis notsimple. Easy is to saythat yousupportequalrepresentation. Easy is tosay youwant full recognitionfor theOther. But when yourealize recognitioninvolves tilting the scale to the Others side, yourealize as well youare notreallyready for this. They, like me, were racists andnot yet ready to admit it.This laststatementmust sound arrogant;a true to sciencescientistshould neversoundit. I was always suspicious of the Jews.Still, it was these Jews who tookthe stepI

would so easily have allowed my spouse to debarsending my kids to a Pales-tinian-Jewish school.

The parents who,at the end of my 2nd yearin the research, pulled their kidsout from second grade were openly suspicious of the Palestinians and thenongovernmental organization that initiated the program. It was clear to themthat a politicalas opposed to an educational agenda(as if they ever could be sep-arated) is what guidedtheseothers. They thought both wantedto overcomethe



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Jewish home and to do it at the expense of their innocent young children. The

Palestinian parents had no suspicions whatsoever; they were sure their depart-ing Jewish counterparts were plain racists. Suspicions as phenomena could notbe kept a tidy and symmetrical phenomenon.

The children, as they all are, were astonishing. Regardless of their academicachievements, they were all smart, very smart. They owned multiple languages,symbolic and representational. This does not mean that Jews could speak

Arabic; for the most part, they could not in spite of the efforts invested by al lthe faculty. Not having a supportive context for Arabic, even in a northern area

with a Palestinian majority, Arabic remained that which out of class could notbe remembered. Palestinian kids were pretty fluent in both languages and

would only get better. For the most part, kids got along together, and when not,it had to do more with internal than with international conflicts. They couldspeak about coexistence and differences, at times, and differentiate between

Palestinian and Jews in school, the good ones, and Jews and Palestinians on theoutside, those responsible for the mess. For the national memorial days, theycould draw in different languages; the Palestinian inspiration came fromnational and battle themes, flags, tanks, and other military paraphernalia. Inthese drawings, always and rightfully so, the Jews were the villain. Jews prefer-ences stayed with the rights of the majority. Their inspiration came from thelanguage of peace and coexistence so useful to the majority even when theymight not really mean it. When playing in the yard, the language of suspicion

would appear in the game arrangements: Soccer was for the Palestinians, andplaying catch was for the Jews. And then, at times in intimate encounters withthe researchers questions, the Palestinian kids would acknowledge that not all

Jewish kids love us. Are there ever kids? Or are we all grown-ups from the

start?Last were the teacherscommitted teachers, trailing in unknown territo-ries. At first, the Palestinians were thankful for the opportunity. Palestinianteachers (always tools in the hands of the sovereign, like many other teachers inmany othernation-states) havebecome the trueguardians of national ideology.

As time passes , it becomes apparent that they have ever-growing expectationsto give what in their eyes is proper expression to their national identity. Pales-tinian teachers are suspicious of the soft approach implemented by Palestinianparents to all national issues at school. Palestinian parents fear the teachersactivism might endanger the initiative and are suspicious of them. Jewishteachers have reacted with surprise and at times with a sense of danger. At firstthey were happy to consider themselves true liberals willing to open up theirdoors to those oppressed; now, they had to encounter their own misconcep-

tions and examine their own fears. Palestinians were asking for more than whatthey expected to have to give from the start.

On the last Soldiers Memorial Day (the day in which Zionist Israel com-memorates the death of those who have sacrificed their lives fighting, free ofcharge, for the state to become), suspicion reached its peak. I was asked by one



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of theJewish teachers if, in theseparateNaqbe Memorialceremonyheld forthe

Palestinian cohort, the teachers had exposed the Palestinian flag. They indeedhad, but for the first time in 2 years, I felt I could not reveal thisI think thatmy mumbling an answer further raised their suspicion.

The events of September 11 caught me in the Ezeiza airport (Buenos Aires)where I was waiting to catch a plane (needless to say from a proud and bankruptnational airline) that would bring me home (?)to Israel. I heard my name beingcalled over the loudspeakers in the comfortable waiting rooma room whosemood borders the national and international, a place where the jet generation(but not the new slave generation of migrant laborers) can put differences torest. The polite attendants asked me not to fly that morning. It was indicatedthat the Israeli skies had been closed, and I would not be able to reach my desti-nation. My response was expectedI indicated I was first flying to Milan andthat it was none of their business if I got stuck in Malpensa. I made it there

while thinking about what could have happened. Was it Iraq again with its mis-siles? Approximately 14 hours later in Italy waiting for the skies to open and

watching CNN (the device for global integrat ion), I real ized what had hap-pened. Almost as many had died as in Israels war of independence. Sincethen, many morehad died, and in the past months many are still dying inIsraeland Palestine. Had I become insensitive? Sensing too much death had madedeath and sense become banal and able to feed nationalism. With some horror,I admit that like many others, I asked myself, How do they feel now that it hashappened to them (a great elocutionary addition to we and uswe need morethan two to tango and dialogue)? Of course, soon remorse and other issuescame to mind. Possible reactionsin a complex world of unforeseeable feedback,in the hands of all but more so in the hands of arrogant national leaders, were

indeed something to worry about. For weeks now, I have followed the game ofethnic/religious/national rhetorics, and Im becoming suspicious again. I thinkI understand. America is not on a crusade, Islam is not an enemy, and not even

Afghanistan is a foe, though they will unfortunately sufferthey meaning theunderprivileged and deprived (even soldiers for the most part join armiesbecause of economic pragmatics and not ideology). Incredible symmetries. InIsrael, bothpolitically correct Jews and Palestinians try neverto generalizepub-licly. There are no Jews, no Moslems, no Christians. There are only some badelements in all of these societies. But all suffer, principally the poor and theunprivileged. I question my sense of rediscovering the roots of my own dis-course, the one I was fed, when still young and arriving in Israel, by well-intended Westerners enrooted in the imperial, the colonial, and the national.Racism is unthinkable to the national liberal humanist. The new multicultural

rhetoric offers recognition, always cheaper than response-ability. Free of thesuspicion of racism, the powerful cancontinue their daily business, the weak as

well , the ones bomb, the others die, and good nations will set us free.Suspicion seems to be everywhere. But is it? No! What is fascinating about

suspicion is that it shapes at intersections shaded by national needs (even when



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no politicians or officials are present). I ask myself if it is not nationalism that

should be suspected of nourishing suspic ion so as to survive. If this is so, whattype of education should we develop so as to shape a humanity suspicious ofnational suspicion? I fear that if we do not find a way, even courageous initia-tives like the ones that prompted my writing this nonfiction story might nothold. Pity.

References

Bekerman, Z. (2002).Caneducationcontribute to coexistence andreconciliation? Religious

and national ceremonies in bilingual Palestinian-Jewish schools in Israel.Peace and Con-

flict: Journal of Peace Psychology,8(3), 259-276.

Bekerman, Z. (in press). Reshaping conflict through school ceremonial events in Israeli Pal-

estinian-Jewish co-education.Anthropology & Education Quarterly.Bekerman, Z.,& Horenczyk, G. (2001).Arab-Jewish bilingual co-education in Israel: A long-

term approach to inter-group conflict resolution. Retrieved from http://sites.huji.ac.il/

melton/bekermanhorenzcyk-jsi-f.pdf

Bekerman, Z., & Horenczyk, G. (2002). Bilingual education in Israel. Retrieved fromhttp://

sites.huji.ac.il/melton/Bilingual-11-01.pdf

Bekerman, Z., & Horenczyk, G. (in press). Arab-Jewish bilingual co-education in Israel: A

long-term approach to inter-group conflict resolution.Journal of Social Issues.

Zvi Bekermanteaches anthropology of education at the School of Educationand the Melton Center for Jewish Education, Hebrew University of Jerusalem.His main interests are in the study of cultural, ethnic, and national identity,

including identity processes and negotiation during intercultural encountersand in informal learning contexts. He has also recently become involved in thestudy of identity construction and development in educational computer-mediated environments.


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Never Free of Suspicion - Zvi Bekerman