there will grow the olive tree

The following was written by my son, Archer who is currently a freshman in college majoring in Political Communications. I am very proud of him and moved by his want to vulnerably and eloquently share his insight and experience as a progressive Jew, in this moment, with this audience. Thank you, Archer. I love you.

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For the vast majority of my life, the issue of Israel and Palestine had been one I largely ignored. I called the region the Levant, the actual geographical term, not Israel or Palestine, because that way no one would get upset. I felt that Israel as a country had abused the rights of Palestinians for its entire existence, which I never agreed with, but the idea that millions of Jews would get up one day and leave the area forever is, to put it bluntly, impossible. I was always in favor of the two state solution, because I felt that some Jews needed to be a part of some semblance of their own nation in order to feel safe, but the Palestinians were just as deserving of this too. 

On October 7, 2023, a devastating world event would redefine the geopolitical sphere of the middle east for the decade, and possibly the states of Israel and Palestine for the rest of the century. The surprise Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians, led to the deaths of over 1400 Israelis, the largest number killed in any attack of this kind in Israel's entire history. To put this into perspective of the American viewer, this was, to an Israeli, their version of the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the world trade center.

As a result of the failures of Israeli military and security intelligence, Mossad, these attacks had devastating consequences, and in the resulting attacks by government militia, it was a true show of force that caught Israel off guard. They severely underestimated the skill and determination of the militia, and did not bring enough soldiers to defend the border towns against the Hamas fighters. Hundreds of hostages were taken, and Israeli families as well as Jews worldwide mourned for their family and friends killed or captured, and anger and resentment grew. For a government currently unpopular, and ruling over the most polarized populace in its nation's history, this presented a very major concern. For Israel, it was either to declare war on Hamas, or face their own destruction. 

For the average Palestinian civilian, there was no idea of what was in store for them. And then the bombs fell and haven’t stopped.

People took to the streets and while most have come from a place of peace, a vocal minority have taken advantage of such protests to voice their antisemitism — celebrating Jewish death in the name of Zionism and making many Jewish students feel unsafe on college campuses. I, too, have felt at times paralyzed, unable to voice my concern for any people, including my own. That I was to keep my head down, keep my mouth shut, as to not point attention to my Jewishness.

I’ve always considered myself a white American. That has, to a certain extent, changed. I’ve always believed that the days of brutal antisemitism that ran rampant in world history for millenia, were on the verge of being overcome. This last month, for the first time, I was afraid to be Jewish. I felt that the only people I could really trust to have my back if I needed it, were other Jews. Not because everyone hated us directly, but more so because the concept of condemning Jewish suffering was suddenly taboo. 

I was enraged at the DSA, and other leftist and social justice organizations who I had supported and held great respect for over the years. My family and I marched for Black lives, we protested at LAX against Donald Trump’s Muslim ban, and I’ve always felt that left-wing politics was my home— something I’d fight for. Seeing some of these people not only ignoring, but celebrating our deaths, our suffering, and our pain, made it feel like a betrayal. I thought to myself for a period of time: fine then, I’ll be pro Israel, and I will root for my people.

At colleges across the United States, and around the world, this conflict has become a focal point of student activism. I am lucky to say that at my school, I feel safe, and I feel loved by my friends here who are mostly not Jewish. What my friends don’t really understand though, is how personally I took their activism at first.

In the beginning, when my friends went to pro-Palestinian rallies, part of me felt like they were against me. Like somehow they thought of me as an oppressor, and that I’d done something wrong, even though I knew deep down that that wasn’t true. I felt both guilty and betrayed.

What I didn’t realize, was that the vast majority of those who are in support of Palestinian freedom are against the government of Israel, Netanyahu and his coalition, not Israelis and Jews as a whole. My friends know that I’m not flying the planes and ordering attacks, and in taking a step back I finally started to calm down and reassess my reaction.

So why did I feel this way? Why do so many Jews around the world feel this way? And why does it feel — to so many of us — like nobody gets it? 

The Jewish people have been raised by the paranoid and fearful survivors of the worst event in modern history, something so terrible that it led scholars to invent the term genocide. We study and read a book yearly, the Torah, that tells the story of our plight for thousands of years, up from the very point of our inception as a people, all the way to the very end of our text. We read this book over and over again, and retell our suffering to each other. It hardens us. It scares us. When you have a group of people that only have known suffering, scarred from the stories of our ancestors, and hardened by actual world events, you have a group of people that will do whatever it takes to ensure their own survival. 

They will seek the upper echelons of power and wealth, they will work to make great achievements in the arts and sciences, they will do whatever it takes to build a community, now in the form of a real state of their own, to ensure the safety of themselves and their families. And they will succeed, because if they don’t, they won’t exist. That is the Jewish mindset. That is where we come from. 

When you see Jewish people so visibly distraught by recent events, its not because they hate Palestinians and support war and genocide, but because they are so afraid of what they have been taught through the very foundations of their religion, and what they’ve seen over generations; what they feel in their cells. It's almost like a child watching horror movies every night before going to sleep, then the parents being surprised as to why the child gets nightmares. When Jews see gentiles who don’t get this (because to be fair how could they) parade and march without keeping these facts in mind, their fight or flight response kicks in. 

So that brings us to the current conflict. Two sides who are filled with pain and suffering, led by the most extreme elements within their respective societies that they’ve had throughout both states’ entire existence, both of whom are fighting for their lives.

One of the most heartbreaking parts of this conflict is that the group of people closest to understanding the Jewish worldview are, ironically, the Palestinians. They too, have lived at the whim of great empires, and fought hard to get a state of their own, and now, they face prejudice within Israel, and live in either the West Bank, under the barely functioning government of the Palestinian authority, or the Gaza Strip, which of course, is ruled by the brutal Hamas regime. 

Those who fund Netanyahu and Likud are the wealthy who do so for their own gain, and the Christians who see the Jews as little more than mere pawns for the eventual coming of Armageddon and the destruction of the world. They quite literally think that if Israel conquers the entire Levant, half of all Jews will instantly die then the world will explode and they will go to heaven in the rapture (this is a super gross simplification and I know this is a minority view in Christianity, but this is what motivates many of Israel's biggest supporters). Those who fund Hamas also do it for themselves, either from governments who seek to advance their own geopolitical interests, like Iran and its Axis of Resistance, or from some populist leftists who see this as an opportunity to mobilize support for their own cause, while they return home to their comfy beds and complain about elites and bicker over conspiracy theories. Muslim nations around the world condemn Israel and its attacks, while refusing to take a single Palestinian refugee. 

Then there are those who just want a ceasefire, and those of you who feel this way, thank you. Me, too. 

This conflict is not one that ends with this war, and maybe one that won’t end in my lifetime even. For as long as these two sides feel that their own existence is at stake, and those who fund them continue to do so for their own personal interests, there will be conflict. For as long as the rest of the world watches on, clicking its tongue and making its criticisms while not understanding anything about either side, there will be conflict. For as long as there are those who seek to gain power and profit from war, there will be conflict. 

I urge you, the Jews of the world, to not take the actions of your friends and family who may be in support of Palestinian freedom as an offense to Jews. Honor your ancestors who gave their lives for your safety and survival, by using your understanding of what it means to be beaten down, to lift others up. 

I urge you, gentiles, to have sympathy towards your Jewish friends and relatives who feel helpless and scared, and toward your Palestinian friends and relatives who are angry and suffering.

And for the Palestinians: I am sorry for everything you have and continue to experience. There is nothing I can say that can give back what you have lost. You are one of the bravest, most resilient groups of people the world has ever seen. And I hope that one day, we can come together under new leadership that represents who we are as the people of the Levant.

May the soils be fertile. May the sun rise and bring new light. May we plant the seeds not for retribution, but for the olive tree. 

So that our children may play in the streets, get married in the mosques and synagogues, and celebrate the Levant, the land of milk and honey.

Our home.