Two Traumas, Two Consequences

by Gene Knudsen Hoffman

 

I have long loved Israel. When I was there in the Sixties, I found that little country a rare and refreshing spiritual, political, and social experiment. It had taken, I felt, the best from a variety of governing systems and had blended them in a remarkable way. I had hoped each of my sons and daughters would spend time on a kibbutz.

When I returned in the Eighties, I found a very different ambience. Israel was heavily armed, frightened, defensive, and persecuting the Palestinians. What had happened to this promising nation and its people, that they had become so bellicose?

That year I worked on both sides of the "green line," moving back and forth, interviewing peace people, both Israelis and Palestinians. The suffering of the Palestinians under Israeli rule was horrifying. It seemed madness. I wondered whether the behavior of the Israeli government and the military had anything to do with the suffering from the Holocaust. I began reading everything I could find on the Holocaust syndrome. And in the ensuing years, I learned a about post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

I found that in World War I, people called the continuing pain of men returning from the front "battle fatigue." Then is was observed that others who had suffered different catastrophic events often showed the same symptoms: depression, isolation, withdrawal, rage, inability to feel; numbing, alienation, intrusive thoughts, horrifying flashbacks, a form of hyper-vigilance akin to paranoia, and more. People began calling this set of reactions PTSD.

I looked at the histories of these two adversaries, the Israelis and the Palestinians. I saw them as two traumatized peoples who have both suffered from and committed acts of terrorism and violence. Today the Israeli government is in a position of power and is oppressor to the Palestinians. There is, of course, retaliation. While there is a strong and active peace movement against the Israeli government's policies, (at least fifty percent of Israeli citizens are said to disagree with their government), the people have not been able to change its policy to one of just and peaceful coexistence.

Today it is easy to see the Palestinians' suffering and the injustices they experience. It so not so easy to see the suffering of the Israelis, and to consider them brutal, relentless, and unapproachable.

I see this differently. I have come to believe that violence springs from our unhealed wounds.

*

"The Holocaust left many Jews so scared that they believe powerlessness is a sin."

The striking statement was made by Rabbi Jeremy Milgrom, who was born in the US and is now an Israeli citizen. When I interviewed this tall, slender young man, intense and compassionate, in the Nineties, he was head of Israel's Clergy for Peace. "We feel the whole world is hostile to us," he continued, "but this is sick behavior. Our politics are the opposite of forgiveness - mainly rebellion against mistreatment suffered in the Holocaust, and against violent treatment from Palestinians who have dreamed their freedom."

Rabbi Milgrom is second generation from the Holocaust and finds his government irrational. After the Nazi persecution, he observed, spiritual Zionism changed into passionate nationalism, and the Jewish State was implemented at the expense of the Palestinians who formerly lived on the land. He maintains that the "Israeli agenda is corrupt because we're not permitting Palestinians to re-unify. We Jews feel guilt toward the Palestinians, and we're unwilling to have a dialogue with them because it will be so unpleasant."

"As long as we withhold forgiveness of the Germans," he believes, "we're corrupted. It's very hard to trust after the Holocaust. But if we can have a redemptive dialogue with the Germans, then we can break down the resistance to having one with the Palestinians. Forgiveness is a release from the past. You don't have to forget."

Another rabbi, Rabbi Jonasson Gershom, in his article, Breaking the Cycle of Abuse, supports this view. He wrote: "On a conscious level, the Israelis are not purposely punishing the Palestinians for the Holocaust. The very suggestion is horrifying to most Jews - didn't we collectively vow ‘never again?' But it is also true that people who have been abused will, when they come to power, abuse others because they do not have healthy role models for exercising power. Abuse is passed down from generation to generation...unless there is some kind of therapy to teach new ways of coping with frustration and anger."

Rabbi Gershom addresses the question of abuse in its application to nations. "It is relatively easy to overthrow a government, but far more difficult to oust the internalized oppression which causes us to demonize others. The abuse cycle is not logical. It is a set of totally irrational behaviors based on pain, fear, shame, guilt, and anger.... rather than forgive and forget, we need to forgive and move forward...."

Acceptance of the situation is not easy either. I also met with the Editor-in-Chief of New Outlook Magazine, Chaim Shure. He was a lovely, generous, gentle man who told me, "The Holocaust is the worst trauma in Jewish history. The whole world was killing us. No one did anything to prevent it. The Holocaust syndrome invades a large part of our lives. Five hundred thousand people in Israel are Holocaust survivors - and now there is a second generation."

But when I asked him if he thought survivors suffer from PTSD, he answered, "PTSD is not a scientific diagnosis. I have a daughter-in-law whose parents are Holocaust survivors. I don't accept it."

*

After this journey, I returned to the Middle East to listen to Palestinians. By this time I had learned new things: that people become "terrorists" when they feel their grievances are not heard, their concerns are not addressed. Attention must be paid.

How can I make Gaza real to you? Gaza, a Muslim strip of land on the Israeli-Egyptian border: the most densely populated area in the world. Perhaps by telling you how the people looked, what they said, and what I saw and heard.

In the outskirts of Gaza, fruit trees blossom, wild grasses cover the fields - and people suffer.

The main street had chuckholes full of dirty water, broken buildings, blind stores, their locked doors covered with anti-Occupation graffiti. A woman walked down the broken sidewalk, a baby on her hip, talking and gesticulating excitedly. A barefoot old man carried a knotted staff; he limped.

This is Gaza in 1996, well before the current Intifada: desolate, harsh, dark corners; prostheses, crutches, braces, scabies. Fifteen thousand demolished homes, miscarriages from gas attacks, rubber fragmentation bullets, plastic bullets over an explosive metal core. Prison sentences of 150 years, 700,000 people in 360 square kilometers. Forty-five percent of the land confiscated by 2,500 Israeli settlers. Xeroxed pictures of martyred sons fixed on lampposts: young men and children killed for throwing stones. Refugee camps, rag walls on houses, sewage flowing in the central gutter, down narrow streets. "There's not even enough room to carry our dead through these streets!" Malnutrition. Worms - parasites infesting the people.

And still there is life in Gaza.

We drove into a parking lot across a shallow lake of dirty water left by rains. The buildings are a faded blue and white. A sign reads American Friends Service Committee: Early Childhood Education Center. We are taken to a pale green room with a desk and chairs. We wait for Mary Khass, a Palestinian Quaker and pacifist who is the director of this little center. She has suffered the fate of most Palestinians: a son was killed, her family disrupted, desolation and despair. Yet Mary is said to have a sturdy faith in life; and she lives in this child care center.

Mary Khass enters. She is full-figured, Western-dressed. Her face is carved into lines of pain and compassion. She stands before us telling her story. I trust Mary Khass.

"My deepest concern is the children. We and the Israelis are raising a generation of haters. It is important for the Palestinians and Israelis to come to an understanding before the Palestinians lose all the land. There is no survival without sharing. We and the Israelis will have to live here - the sooner the better.

"What can you do to help us? Work hard for the two states. Respect and support Israeli progressive groups, but remember, they haven't done enough unless they refuse military service in the occupied territories. If they are against the Occupation, they must not serve."

And then her cry of anguish: "How can they sleep? There is a hospital next to this place. I have seen Israeli soldiers raid the hospital. They shot and beat patients, nurses, and doctors. I saw an Israeli soldier crying and beating his head against the wall. A Palestinian mother comforted this soldier. 'Malesh. It's all right, my son.' That young man could have said 'no.' Why didn't he say no? Can Israelis not see it is more courageous to work for peace than war?

"We have unwanted refugees all over the world. We didn't cause the Holocaust. My people have learned that depending on justice and the politicians is fruitless. We must pay the price and bring about change ourselves. Our children are suffering emotional horror, hypocrisy, violence, and fear. The little ones learn how to solve problems with violence. They are out of control. The hand that throws the stone needs understanding and love. Educators need education to deal with opening the minds of these little ones.

"Recently a bullet was shot in a camp. Nobody was hurt. All the camp was placed under curfew for twelve days. One hundred and eighty young men were arrested. All the citrus groves were demolished. Three houses were destroyed. Many men between the ages of sixteen and sixty were beaten.

"The Israelis must learn to live with guilt. To do this, they must stay in the camps with us. As long as they don't stay in our camps, they haven't crossed the line emotionally. As long as they don't discourage their military from serving in the territories they wipe my tears with one hand, and slap me with the other."

That night we heard shooting in the streets; fires blazed in the sky. The next day, fighting continued with rock throwing and sporadic shots. Soldiers and rock -throwers faced-off on a street in which we were riding; our driver turned hastily and left. We later learned a nine-year-old boy was killed.

*

We were taken from refugee camp to refugee camp. More stories.

"I was in prison; so was my husband - he for 440 years. I was pregnant, near term. The guards insisted the baby should be born - now - dead. They said I had five living children; this one must die.

"They drove me for two hours on rough roads. I was forced to lie on my stomach. The baby did not come. They took me to a room in the prison and manacled me to the bed. They threatened and probed and pushed. Still the baby did not come. They called my baby a terrorist. At last my baby came. He lived! I called him Yasser. God wanted Yasser to live."

More voices from the camps: "I have two martyrs in my family; two of my sons were shot. See their pictures on the wall... My son was seventeen when he was killed by open fire on the demonstrators... Mine was shot in the head... My son is in Ansaar 111, the prison of suffering.... My youngest son is serving his ninth prison sentence....

"Do not feel sorry for us. We are parents of martyrs. We are proud...."

*

I feel there are always new possibilities if we look for them. The therapist Alice Miller is confident that people can find ways to free themselves of hatred and rage by doing the painful and rewarding work of re-experiencing trauma "in its original context." She is confident that we can save life on our planet by "questioning present dangerous and ubiquitous blindness [denial] - above all, as it exists in ourselves."

I see peacemaking as a healing process. If we include this dimension in our efforts, they will surely take on new power and persuasion.

Gene Knudsen Hoffman, founder of Compassionate Listening, is a Quaker and long-time FOR member. She lives in Santa Barbara, California.