1.

“The Peace Corps left today and my heart sank low. The danger is extreme and they were right to leave… Now I must assess my own position, because I am not up for suicide. Several times I have decided to leave El Salvador. I almost could, except for the children, the poor, bruised victims of this insanity. Who would care for them? Whose heart could be so staunch as to favor the reasonable thing in a sea of their tears and loneliness? Not mine, dear friend, not mine.”

–Jean Donovan, US lay missionary in El Salvador, raped and murdered by US-backed Salvadoran troops, 2 December 1980

“I’m having a hard time right now.   Just feel sick to my stomach from being doted on very sweetly, by people who are facing doom.  I know that from the United States it all sounds like hyperbole.  A lot of the time the kindness of the people here, coupled with the willful destruction of their lives, makes it seem unreal to me.  I can’t believe that something like this can happen in the world without a bigger outcry.   It hurts me, again, like it has hurt me in the past, to witness how awful we can allow the world to be.”

–Rachel Corrie, US college student and activist in Rafah, Gaza, bulldozed to death by US-backed Israeli Army, 16 March 2003

2.

In the fall of 2003, I decided to take a sabbatical. Since I always encourage my Social Justice students to leave their comfort zone, I planned on doing the same: I worked with the International Solidarity Movement (ISM) in the Israeli-occupied Palestinian territories of the West Bank and Gaza Strip. For six weeks, I lived and worked in Rafah, Gaza, which had been the scene of many killings of Palestinian civilians and the demolition of hundreds of homes by the Israeli Army. While I was in Rafah, I thought many times of one of my predecessors there, an American college student by the name of Rachel Corrie.

On 16 March 2003 Rachel was killed by an Israeli soldier who bulldozed her as she tried to prevent a physician’s home from being demolished. The Palestinians considered her a shaheedah, a martyr, one who had died in the struggle against the illegal Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories. At our ISM office, we saw photographs and posters of Rachel Corrie in the full bloom of youth, with an exuberant smile, a bright future of promise in her eyes. When we met Palestinians on the street who wanted to know who we foreigners were, we would say, “ISM,” and they said back with effusive respect, “Yes, yes, Rachel Corrie, Rachel Corrie!”

One room of the ISM office in Rafah has a wall collage of shaheed posters, remembrances of those ordinary Palestinians (and a few internationals) who’ve been killed since the second intifada began in September 2000. These posters include young girls, teen-age boys, bookish-looking bespectacled young men, as well as confident resistance fighters posing with weapons that were unable to protect them from Israeli Apache helicopters or tanks. How many walls would be filled by all the martyr posters of this intifada? I could not imagine. And for each face there, I supposed that there were 10, or 30, or 60 family members and friends still reeling from the loss.

Early in my time in Rafah, our ISM team wanted to visit where Rachel Corrie was killed. Two white Mercedes taxis drove our group to the area where the doctor’s home still stood (it has since been demolished). When we got out and drew near to the site, our local Palestinian coordinator noticed an approaching Israeli jeep and a tank. He did not think it safe for us to stay and so he hurried us back in the taxis and said, “We will come another day.”

So instead we went to the nearby Al-Salaam neighborhood so we could inspect the damage caused by the recent Israeli Operation Root Canal. We got out our cameras and took video and digital photos of the massive home destruction. We also had a brief exchange with the family whose homes were blown up; they erected tents on their property and that’s where they were trying to live. One ISM volunteer, Kristi, age 26, and best friends with Rachel Corrie, began to weep at the misery before her eyes, the misery that also moved Rachel Corrie, day after day.

A few days later we made another attempt to see Dr. Sameer’s home. Many of our team were taking photos and video footage, but I didn’t have the heart to reach in my backpack to pull out my camera to document more devastation. Then we saw an Israeli tank in the distance coming toward us (they patrolled that area every 15 minutes, I was told). Our Palestinian guide insisted that we duck and run but some of us were not so quick in following his instructions. Live ammo came whizzing our way, ricocheting off the wall we had just passed.

In an email to her mother while she was in Rafah, Rachel wrote, “When I am with Palestinian friends I tend to be somewhat less horrified than when I am trying to act in a role of human rights observer, documenter, or direct-action resister. They are a good example of how to be in it for the long haul. I know that the situation gets to them - and may ultimately get them - on all kinds of levels, but I am nevertheless amazed at their strength in being able to defend such a large degree of their humanity - laughter, generosity, family-time - against the incredible horror occurring in their lives and against the constant presence of death.… I should at least mention that I am also discovering a degree of strength and of basic ability for humans to remain human in the direst of circumstances - which I also haven’t seen before. I think the word is dignity. I wish you could meet these people. Maybe, hopefully, someday you will.”

3.

Not surprisingly, some people have demonized Jean Donovan and Rachel Corrie: Jean was a “Communist” and Rachel was a “terrorist,” with the imputation that they “got” what they deserved.

Yet, all over the world others have been inspired by their commitment to justice. They are witnesses not only to the horrors of injustice, so smoothly explained away by U.S. leaders; they are also witnesses to our capacities for accompaniment, risk taking, and solidarity.

As a teacher, I am grateful to so many former students whose commitment also challenges and inspires me. Some of them have chosen to work overseas, and have become able to recognize in the people with whom they shared their days and nights what Rachel simply called “dignity.” I am thinking of such people as Mary (Mozambique), Wendy (Cameroon), Marybeth (Uganda), Magan (Palestine), Bridget (Chile), Danielle (El Salvador), Laura (Bolivia), James (Nicaragua), Randa (Mali), Ginny (Mexico), Laura (El Salvador), Becca (Haiti), Colette (El Salvador), Elizabeth (Colombia), Anna (Poland), Kristen (Belize), Zeina (Palestine), Layla (Afghanistan), Josh (Bolivia), Matt (Mozambique), Christine (Mexico), Lauren (Uganda), Jen (Guatemala), Megan (Colombia), and Lala (Indonesia).

4.

“I look forward to seeing more and more people willing to resist the direction the world is moving in, a direction where our personal experiences are irrelevant, that we are defective, that our communities are not important, that we are powerless, that our future is determined, and that the highest level of humanity is expressed through what we choose to buy at the mall.”

–Rachel Corrie, email from Gaza

Review of Jimmy Carter, We Can Have Peace in the Holy Land: A Plan That Will Work.

(New York: Simon and Schuster, 2009), $27.00.

Now in his eighties, former U.S. president Jimmy Carter persistently continues his pursuit of peace in the Middle East. In the follow-up to his controversial book Palestine Peace Not Apartheid (2006), Carter covers familiar territory and comes up with a surprisingly optimistic perspective, revealed in the book’s title: We Can Have Peace in the Holy Land: A Plan That Will Work.

For his last book, Carter was denounced by some as an anti-Semite and the best friend of terrorists; nevertheless, he accomplished what he set out to do: namely, to provoke a lively debate on this central foreign policy question of how to foster peace in what he calls the Holy Land (i.e., Palestine and Israel).

I read Palestine Peace Not Apartheid with some appreciation and interest, because Carter used his immense cultural, symbolic, and political capital to draw attention to issues long downplayed or ignored in the U.S. mainstream. For example, in that book, he wrote, “Regardless of whether Palestinians had no formalized government, one headed by Yasir Arafat or Mahmoud Abbas, or one with Abbas as president and Hamas controlling the parliament and cabinet, Israel’s continued control and colonization of Palestinian land have been the primary obstacles to a comprehensive peace agreement in the Holy Land. In order to perpetuate the occupation, Israeli forces have deprived their unwilling subjects of basic human rights. No objective person could personally observe existing conditions in the West Bank and dispute these statements.” [208-209] I and several friends in Saint Louis have taken the opportunity to visit and work in the West Bank and Gaza Strip and can confirm Carter’s analysis.

Early in his this book, Carter asks, “What is the existing deadlock in promoting peace?” [xvii] In the latter part of the book, he makes the following observations:

For the past thirty years, there has been no doubt in both private and public discussions, within the Holy Land and globally, the confiscation of land and building of Israeli settlements in the West Bank are recognized as one of the primary obstacles to peace. There has been a recent outpouring of condemnations by political leaders. [151-152]

The chance for successful peace negotiations would be greatly enhanced if the threat of terrorist acts could be effectively addressed. There is little doubt that a peace agreement in the Holy Land with a contiguous and viable state for the Palestinians would remove a major cause of terrorism throughout the region. [155]

Palestinians, Israelis, and other observers recognize that during the past sixteen years, U.S. political leaders have acquiesced in Israel’s massive settlement building in East Jerusalem and the West Bank. Intended to establish permanent “facts on the ground,” the result has been to diminish (or eliminate) the prospect of a sovereign, contiguous, and viable Palestinian state with the West Bank linked to Gaza and its capital in Jerusalem. [166]

These three observations, then, go a long way to illuminating that issue of deadlock: Both the U.S. and Israel have been unwilling to agree to Israel’s withdrawal from Palestinian territory. Under Carter’s presidential successors Bill Clinton and George W. Bush, the so-called “peace process” can more accurately be described as the “ghettoization process” of the Palestinians.

Carter achieved lasting fame for his role in bringing together Israel and Egypt in the Camp David Accords in 1979. During those negotiations, Carter noted that the Israeli leaders Menachem Begin and Moshe Dayan were not willing:

(1) to withdraw politically or militarily from any part of the West Bank; (2) to stop the construction of new settlements or the expansion of existing ones; (3) to withdraw Israeli settlers from Egypt’s Sinai or leave them under U.N. protection; (4) to acknowledge that U.N. resolution 242 applied to the West Bank-Gaza area; (5) to grant the Palestinians real authority or a voice in their own future; or (6) to discuss the issue of refugees. [35]

Many of the foregoing refusals characterize recent Israeli policy. Indeed, over the last thirty years, there has been a remarkable consistency in Israeli leadership. One expression used to describe their strategy is “movement without motion”—producing the illusion that diplomacy was focused on peace (while “facts on the ground” were being established that negate the possibility of a real peace settlement).

The “plan” referred to in the book’s subtitle refers to the long-standing two-state solution, which calls for Israel to return to its 1967 borders and terminating its settlements. (The two-state solution is based on the crucial U.N. resolutions, and embraced by the Arab League, and is the subject of several appendices in Carter’s book.) Yet, Carter plainly sees the continued, operative U.S. support for Israel’s “facts on the grounds,” as in these two passages: “As President Bush had not mentioned settlements in his Knesset speech, the Israelis not only ignored [Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice] but announced plans to build another thirteen hundred new homes in the West Bank and projected forty thousand more during the next decade.” [152] “On March 17 [Ehud Olmert] announced that Israel had the absolute right to continue expanding existing settlements and building new ones, especially around Jerusalem, despite objections from Washington or anywhere else.” [114]

Carter acknowledges the baleful significance of these settlements for the possibility of peace between Israel and Palestine. Further, he cites Palestinians and Israelis who believe that the settlements have rendered impossible a two-state solution, thus raising the issue of both peoples living together in one state. Carter notes: “The next stage within a single state would be a struggle before world opinion for equal political rights for millions of Palestinians voters similar to what took place in South Africa.” [162] Israel would then face the choice of losing its Jewishness as a state, or gaining full apartheidness as a state. Carter soberly concludes, “Perhaps the most important overarching decision for the Palestinians is whether to seek equal citizenship within a single nation instead of continuing their frustrated struggle for separate statehood. The Israelis will have to provide the ultimate response.” [170]

It is with that last sentence that I have to disagree. What is jarring in Carter’s book is his view, not of Israel or Palestine, but the United States. Consider these excerpts:

The United States will find all parties to the conflict—and leaders of other nations—eager to support strong, fair, and persistent leadership from Washington. [xx]

Yet for the past fifty years the United States has been widely recognized as the essential interlocutor that can provide guidance, encouragement, and support to those who want to find common ground. Unfortunately, most leaders in Washington have not been effective in helping parties find peace, while making it harder for other potential mediators in Europe, the Near East, and the United Nations to intercede. [xv]

I know from personal experience that the influence of our government is limited, but there is no prospect for regional harmony and stability unless the United States plays a leadership role … [179]

The historical record demonstrates that the U.S. government has overwhelmingly backed one side (Israel) with abundant military aid, steadfast diplomatic support in the U.N. and ardent Congressional backing as well, hardly a fair and balanced approach to the conflict. Accordingly, Washington has been relentlessly effective in enabling Israel to pursue its goals, not of peace and normalization, but of conquest of the choicest parts of Palestinian territory and of the elimination of any meaningful sense of Palestinian sovereignty. But even as Carter admits that U.S. influence is limited, surely, he must also realize the enormous agency the U.S. has long exerted in the region, agency that has been detrimental to the cause he champions. The U.S. has overwhelming power and has used that power as it sees fit, in this case, to empower Israel through dollars, votes, and deals. Regardless of official pronouncements, the U.S. government has been a full, bipartisan, and devoted partner to the demise of the two-state solution.

After the cover the United States provided Israel in its assault on Gaza in December and January, our claim to be interested in peace for Israel and Palestine is simply incredible to increasing numbers of people around the world. The U.S. has wanted it both ways: To be Israel’s staunch ally and to be seen in the international community as an honest and judicious broker. This is impossible. Either the Obama administration continues to unconditionally back Israel or else it must substantively change course and pursue an even-handed, balanced peace process.

For, as Palestinian Salam Fayyad put it simply to Carter, “Unless America stops the Israelis from expanding settlements there can be no peace. Not one more brick!” [124]

The Book of Mev is the story of Mev Puleo, an American photojournalist and young Catholic who actively confronted a world of injustice, poverty and violence. From witnessing homelessness in the United States to struggles for social change in Haiti, El Salvador, and Brazil, Puleo used photography and interviews to be a bridge between poverty and affluence, the First World and the Third World. Puleo’s familiarity with suffering, however, was dramatically intensified when she was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor at the age of thirty-one. She died twenty-one months later.

In his book, All Saints: Daily Reflections on Saints, Prophets, and Witnesses for Our Time (Crossroads, 1997), Robert Ellsberg placed Mev Puleo — a “witness of solidarity” — alongside the Hindu Mohandas Gandhi, the Jew Anne Frank, the French writer Albert Camus, and many traditional Catholic saints. While in his two pages, Ellsberg hinted at Puleo’s short life of passionate integrity, The Book of Mev chronicles her soaring and searing journey as a photographer, person of faith, and woman in love.

Puleo’s husband, Mark Chmiel, author of a critical study of Holocaust survivor and writer Elie Wiesel, portrays his wife’s passion, playfulness, drive and weaknesses with candor and sensitivity. A personal love story, political commentary, and religious odyssey, Part One of The Book of Mev covers the genesis of Chmiel and Puleo’s relationship; their graduate studies in theology and travels to Brazil, El Salvador, Haiti and Israel/Palestine; their wrestling with the challenges of faith, engagement with social injustices, and decision to marry. Part Two deals with the diagnosis of Puleo’s tumor and subsequent surgery, and her own struggle to recover and, eventually, face her imminent death. Part Three concludes with Chmiel’s efforts to grieve and give thanks, remember and let go.

Written in short chapters, the story of Mev Puleo’s life, suffering, and death is structured around several recurring themes such as accompaniment, bearing witness, community, prayer, reading, and remembering the dead. These often appear in new contexts, giving the reader a deeper appreciation for their essential place in all our lives. The memoir is multivocal as the author’s voice gives way frequently to Puleo’s, and her voice makes room for her interviewees, in addition to the testimonies from friends as well as human rights workers. In addition, Chmiel and Puleo explore the wisdom of Catholic women activists as well as contemporary religious figures such Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh. Further, the many genres appearing in the book, which add a rich texture to Puleo’s quest for authenticity, include story, Congressional testimony, prayers, poetry, interviews, love letters, reminiscences, and eulogies. While the photographs in the book are mostly those taken by Puleo during her travels abroad, Chmiel includes a few of Puleo herself, both in her radiant health and during her growing illness. Thus, Puleo and Chmiel’s photographs reveal both beauty and pain, in the struggling poor and in Puleo herself.

Mev Puleo’s life was an ardent search for faith, hope, and love. The Book of Mev explores many varieties of love including that between a woman and man who teach and learn from each other, as well as the communities they are blessed to be part of. Puleo’s own compassion in the face of so much social suffering and her joie de vivre even as she battles with cancer provide an unusual portrait of a young person’s grappling with death and life’s ultimate questions. As a college student, Ms. Puleo wrote: “When I was in my early teens, a thought took hold of me. Jesus didn’t die to save us from suffering — he died to teach us how to suffer, to be with us in our every anguish and agony, to give meaning to our pain. . . . Sometimes I actually mean it. I’d rather die young, having lived a life crammed with meaning than to die old, even in security, but without meaning.” Readers of all ages and religious commitments will find such meaning in The Book of Mev, which illumines such timeless issues as the joy of connection, the suffering of the innocent, and the grace found in community. Chmiel contextualizes the particulars of Puleo’s life by making reference to broader, global struggles for life and justice in Iraq, Haiti, Brazil, and the Middle East. In such wise, The Book of Mev offers a challenge to American readers not only to savor the people one loves in the present moment but also to consider a wider horizon of faith and struggle beyond one’s own personal misfortunes.