We are again witnessing chaos in the Middle East: with tension between Israel and Arab countries at a fever pitch; it is only but an invitation to catastrophe–a scenario I am not interested in for fear of damage in both urban areas and human lives and deterioration in mutual trust, dialogue, and self-involvement in vicious circles.
As I watch the news unfold, my mind cannot help but think about the complexity of the situation. The fall of the Assad regime in Syria left a vacuum, and Israel was quick to take advantage of it. They are concerned that weapons and military capabilities will fall into the hands of rebels who will use these against them. And who can blame them? The last thing they need is another enemy on their doorstep.
But let us not forget that this is also an opportunity for peace. This could be that chance, when the Assad regime is removed, to bring in a new government that will work with Israel and the other Arab countries toward a far more stable region. And yet, instead of seeing a solution, every single day is escalation, with each side digging deep into its trench and refusing to budge one inch.
I have always been interested in this idea of “enemies” in the Middle East. We hear about it in the news all the time, but what does it really mean? Is it just a name, something to explain our actions and clear us from guilt? Or is it deeper, some basic constituent of human nature that makes us divide into “us” and “them”?
I think it is the latter: we’re wired to perceive threats–real or imaginary–and to respond correspondingly. It’s a fundamental urge programmed into our brains. Yet, as humans, so are empathy and understanding. We can perceive beyond our interests and try to look for common ground.
Unfortunately, that is just not what we are seeing nowadays. What we see is a picture of both camps dug in, refusing to listen and even recognize each other’s humanity. It is as if they speak a different language, with words and concepts completely foreign to others.
And yet, amidst all this tension and hostility, there is still hope. A young Israeli and Palestinian boy, fast friends despite their differences; a group of activists from different backgrounds coming together to demand peace and justice. These are the small sparks that can ignite a greater movement for change.
What do we do? We could begin to listen more profoundly to one another, trying to understand the perspective and experiences of another person. We can begin to realize our biases and prejudices and work our way over them. Most importantly, we can begin by insisting on more from our leaders than the call for greater diplomacy, compromise, and courage in standing up against adversity. But then a more peaceful Middle East might just be realized.
