Dear Mr. President,
The "threat" of the one-state solution has long been tossed about in discussion of the fate of Palestine and Israel. I find myself ambivalent on the subject. In some respects I think it is a good idea; it would end the apartheid system of segregated "Arab" and "Jewish-only" neighborhoods and streets (at least in the law, though, obviously, de facto segregation would likely continue.) It would incentivize working together, learning from one another, and mutual respect, as both Palestinians and Israelis became responsible for the fate of their country. I think it might also mitigate the inequitable resource usage, especially regarding water. It would help both sides, economically and educationally. It would offer legitimacy of each in the eyes of their current enemy's allies.
On the other hand, I worry about the backlash. Ethnic and religious violence on a larger scale. I don't imagine the leaders of the Likud party (or even Labor) being too eager to share their nuclear launch codes (and other military secrets) with the leaders of Fatah, or the PFLP, or Hamas. The military would certainly have a had time adjusting, and the mandatory service for all citizens might need to be reconsidered. It would be ugly, difficult, maybe even bloody, for at least another generation. I, for one, am not confident enough in the outcome to be comfortable calling for a solution that would lead to more lives lost. But doing nothing is also a choice, and the status quo of slow partition is also ratcheting up the body count.
In an International Relations course at Boise State University, one the best professors I ever had gave us an assignment. He divided us into three teams- A, B, and the UN. We were given a map, with different symbols for resources and different concentrations of ethnic groups A and B. He said, every one divide up the map, let's see what we end up with. Needless to say, a heated and unresolved argument ensued. Had we been dividing anything besides land, I would have said, let team A divide it up, and let team B pick their half first. But land is not a heard of cows. Land has history, people's homes, holy sites, cemeteries. I never thought to suggest that we forget the partition all together, and neither did any of my classmates. Looking back, I wonder if, at least in simulation, it would have been a wise idea.
I know that your administration is publicly opposed to the one-state solution. But I'd like to know what your ideal endgame looks like. What outcome can you imagine as best? I think, no matter where you draw the borders, Israel and Palestine will have to work together, rely on one another, trust one another, to a degree that does not yet seem possible. South Africa today did not seem possible during the years of apartheid, either. And it has been a long and bloody road to a present that is yet far from ideal, but I don't think that a South Africa White and a South Africa Black would have been a better solution. What are your thoughts on the one-state solution, Mr. President? I don't believe it isn't something you've given thoughtful consideration. Have you, entirely, rejected the possibility? If so, what was your reasoning for doing so? How do you envision the region, ideally, in 10 years? In 50? What does a solution look like, to your mind?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label South Africa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label South Africa. Show all posts
Monday, July 12, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Day 165- World Cup!
Dear Mr. President,
Glenn Beck hates the world cup. Actually, Glenn Beck has himself convinced that all of America (or whatever the collective pronoun he speaks with refers to,) hates the world cup. I don't think it's that much of a stretch to see the racist, or at least xenophobic, implications in his words; Glenn Beck hating something he doesn't understand, however, is hardly news. Not that any thinking person needs to have this contradicted, but in my own experience, arguably just as American as Beck's, soccer is just as quintessential as apple pie.
I remember the day I started playing soccer. It was in second grade, during recess. It was one of those rare, gorgeous days, and I managed to convince the boys to let me play with them in order to even out the teams. I made one (entirely accidental, but, apparently, incredible) save, and they decided i was one of them. From then on we played every day, one class against another. We played for two years, until I moved to a new elementary school, and my parents signed me up for an all-girls league. At our first team meeting, we discussed that our proposed name, the pink panthers, was already taken by another team. It was put to a vote and, by a large majority, we decided to call ourselves the pink flamingos, instead, disappointing more than a few parents by prioritizing pink jerseys above a ferocious mascot. Six years (and several mascots later) we were an odd mix of high school girls; some popular, some unknown, some geeks, but we all put the game first. Girls who bullied me at school were my sisters in arms on the field. Some of us were poor, some were rich, some were middle class; we came from many different kinds of families and represented a diverse collection of ethnicities. We cheered the suddenly famous women's world cup team on as they penalty-kicked their way to a stunning and dramatic victory. I used to practice juggling in the backyard of my mother's house, fantasizing about playing in front of a crowded stadium. Our parents haggled over carpools and halftime snacks, and, while we donned shin-guards and climbed into their mini vans, our mothers became a new demographic of female voters dubbed "soccer moms". Soccer didn't change my life; it was an integral part of my life. I don't know who I'd be without it, the self-confidence it inspired, the emphasis on fitness and teamwork and sportsmanship surely helped me become the person I am today.
Anyway, I never played soccer after high school. I don't regret this, exactly, I was never good enough to play as more than just a hobby, but I still love the game. I love the way enthusiasm for soccer games infects its fans, young and old, American or international, in exactly the same way. I played soccer with little boys in villages in Palestine, when we had no more than a few words of shared language. I cheered along with Dutch and German fans while we watched games on a tiny hostel TV screen. Soccer might not feed or clothe or shelter any one, but it brings the world together. I would imagine that this is exactly why Glenn Beck, and his like-minded contemporaries, hate it so much. You're a sports fan, Mr. President, and so I have no doubt that you appreciate the excitement of the world cup, and the symbol of progress that hosting such an event is for South Africa, and so I hope that, in between all of the millions of important things you have to do this month, you're able to enjoy a few games.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Glenn Beck hates the world cup. Actually, Glenn Beck has himself convinced that all of America (or whatever the collective pronoun he speaks with refers to,) hates the world cup. I don't think it's that much of a stretch to see the racist, or at least xenophobic, implications in his words; Glenn Beck hating something he doesn't understand, however, is hardly news. Not that any thinking person needs to have this contradicted, but in my own experience, arguably just as American as Beck's, soccer is just as quintessential as apple pie.
I remember the day I started playing soccer. It was in second grade, during recess. It was one of those rare, gorgeous days, and I managed to convince the boys to let me play with them in order to even out the teams. I made one (entirely accidental, but, apparently, incredible) save, and they decided i was one of them. From then on we played every day, one class against another. We played for two years, until I moved to a new elementary school, and my parents signed me up for an all-girls league. At our first team meeting, we discussed that our proposed name, the pink panthers, was already taken by another team. It was put to a vote and, by a large majority, we decided to call ourselves the pink flamingos, instead, disappointing more than a few parents by prioritizing pink jerseys above a ferocious mascot. Six years (and several mascots later) we were an odd mix of high school girls; some popular, some unknown, some geeks, but we all put the game first. Girls who bullied me at school were my sisters in arms on the field. Some of us were poor, some were rich, some were middle class; we came from many different kinds of families and represented a diverse collection of ethnicities. We cheered the suddenly famous women's world cup team on as they penalty-kicked their way to a stunning and dramatic victory. I used to practice juggling in the backyard of my mother's house, fantasizing about playing in front of a crowded stadium. Our parents haggled over carpools and halftime snacks, and, while we donned shin-guards and climbed into their mini vans, our mothers became a new demographic of female voters dubbed "soccer moms". Soccer didn't change my life; it was an integral part of my life. I don't know who I'd be without it, the self-confidence it inspired, the emphasis on fitness and teamwork and sportsmanship surely helped me become the person I am today.
Anyway, I never played soccer after high school. I don't regret this, exactly, I was never good enough to play as more than just a hobby, but I still love the game. I love the way enthusiasm for soccer games infects its fans, young and old, American or international, in exactly the same way. I played soccer with little boys in villages in Palestine, when we had no more than a few words of shared language. I cheered along with Dutch and German fans while we watched games on a tiny hostel TV screen. Soccer might not feed or clothe or shelter any one, but it brings the world together. I would imagine that this is exactly why Glenn Beck, and his like-minded contemporaries, hate it so much. You're a sports fan, Mr. President, and so I have no doubt that you appreciate the excitement of the world cup, and the symbol of progress that hosting such an event is for South Africa, and so I hope that, in between all of the millions of important things you have to do this month, you're able to enjoy a few games.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Day 160- Apartheid
Dear Mr. President,
Apartheid, like genocide, is not a word to be thrown around. It is too powerful, its history too bloody, to use lightly. It has been invoked quite a bit this week, be it because it's been banned or because the situation in Gaza has drawn the condemnation of Nelson Mandela and Archbishop Desmond Tutu, or because Barney Frank's unintentional irony has just gotten downright embarrassing. When President Carter used the word, he was accused of anti-semitism. I'm sure that, were you to use it, you'd be called the same, probably even worse. "Unsustainable" seems to be as provocative as the White House is willing to get.
Unsustainable. This clean, ambiguous term seems to imply that the problem isn't that Israel is abusing its power, depriving people of their rights, and subjugating millions of people based on their religion or ethnicity, but that the system isn't practical. It's not a moral objection, but a pragmatic one. I agree with the White House that the situation is unsustainable. I also agree that it's apartheid. One cannot see the divided roads in Hebron, or the stark loom of the wall and not be moved by the injustice of it all. I'm glad that you met with Mr. Abbas today, and I think the aid package is, at least, a tangible demonstration of good faith, though I think that ending our military aid to Israel would be a better use of our money, and, in the long run, more helpful to the Palestinian people. I suppose, at the end of the day, I don't care what you call the injustices of the world, so long as you act to end them. I want to believe that we are taking steps in the right direction, and that progress, even slowly made, is more important than the words you use to describe the situation.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Apartheid, like genocide, is not a word to be thrown around. It is too powerful, its history too bloody, to use lightly. It has been invoked quite a bit this week, be it because it's been banned or because the situation in Gaza has drawn the condemnation of Nelson Mandela and Archbishop Desmond Tutu, or because Barney Frank's unintentional irony has just gotten downright embarrassing. When President Carter used the word, he was accused of anti-semitism. I'm sure that, were you to use it, you'd be called the same, probably even worse. "Unsustainable" seems to be as provocative as the White House is willing to get.
Unsustainable. This clean, ambiguous term seems to imply that the problem isn't that Israel is abusing its power, depriving people of their rights, and subjugating millions of people based on their religion or ethnicity, but that the system isn't practical. It's not a moral objection, but a pragmatic one. I agree with the White House that the situation is unsustainable. I also agree that it's apartheid. One cannot see the divided roads in Hebron, or the stark loom of the wall and not be moved by the injustice of it all. I'm glad that you met with Mr. Abbas today, and I think the aid package is, at least, a tangible demonstration of good faith, though I think that ending our military aid to Israel would be a better use of our money, and, in the long run, more helpful to the Palestinian people. I suppose, at the end of the day, I don't care what you call the injustices of the world, so long as you act to end them. I want to believe that we are taking steps in the right direction, and that progress, even slowly made, is more important than the words you use to describe the situation.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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