by Henry Todd

A young boy protests outside Nablus. Photo credit: Henry Todd

When people ask what I was doing in Palestine I reply “solidarity work and reporting.” I knew the moral reasons I decided to go, and I knew it was my civic duty, but I didn’t know what to call it, and I didn’t even have a clear plan for when I arrived – only that I was going to “help in any way that I can.”

As an activist it’s critical to accept the fact that Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza are under a military occupation, and the role that you play (in my case as a U.S. citizen) in the occupation’s existence. As Marc Lamont Hill put it so clearly – “… our military funding, our financial support of Israel is so considerable. Given the fact that Israel holds itself as ‘the only democracy in the Middle East,’ because of this language, because of our economic, psychological, and cultural investment in the state of Israel, I think we do have a responsibility to hold Israel accountable.” It’s more than a taking a principled stance – far from abstract – it’s every U.S. citizen’s prerogative to participate in freeing the Palestinians from military occupation. It’s not about “holding Israel to a higher standard”, despite that it’s supposed to be “the only democracy in the Middle East” (apologies to Tunisia and Lebanon).

An activist cannot achieve change by just recognizing injustice; an activist cannot achieve change by only marching in the streets; indeed, an activist cannot only do “solidarity work and reporting.” An activist, I have found, must widen their scope. They must become creative in internalizing their experiences, and then expressing them through meaningful action that brings about tangible results for the victims. As obvious as that may seem, some of the activist community tends to forget that.

My first three days in the West Bank were a whirlwind of harrowing experiences, all of which could’ve produced a shock effect, but which I quickly realized I had to internalize such that they could be used to contribute to the work in a meaningful way. It’s no surprise that doing solidarity work alongside Palestinians in the occupied territories will include being shot at a great deal; tear gas, rubber-coated steel bullets, live ammunition, and an assortment of other projectiles are expected to come your way. Solidarity work is about insight into facts on the ground in the occupied Palestinian territories (oPt); what do the inhabitants live through everyday which you are now subjected to by your own volition?

Solidarity work is about resistance; the Palestinians are under an illegal, immoral, and racist military occupation, and you’re there to physically put yourself in harm’s way to resist the military’s transgressions. This action of physical resistance has two effects. First, it exercises the rights bestowed by international law to battle military occupation. Second, it protects the inhabitants who would otherwise be subjected to an even harsher, more violent treatment by occupational forces. Make no mistake that without the eyes, ears, and declarations of the international community (including its solidarity actions), the facts on the ground would be even bloodier and more brutal. Thus, solidarity work is also about defense of the inhabitants.

IFJ marching towards Qalandia. Photo credit: Henry Todd

My first day in the oPt I marched alongside demonstrators in Ras Kar-Kar. We marched through a torrential downpour, armed with cameras and Palestinian flags. Within 15 minutes the tear gas and bullets were flying. In retaliation, young Palestinian men hurled back stones. The story of Ras Kar-Kar isn’t unlike other villages. Military outposts were established around the village in the early 2000’s – the common “security” pretexts being used – then the Israeli government slowly confiscated land around the area. It was in 2018 that weekly demonstrations began when land atop what is known as Risan Mountain was confiscated. My group and I were there to protest alongside the villagers. By the end of it, the IDF moved in on us, and aside from official press, everybody fled the scene. This was the first time I had ever been chased by armed people shooting at me.

My second day, I participated in a march with the International Federation of Journalists (IFJ) towards the infamous Qualandiya checkpoint. We were protesting the treatment of Palestinian journalists in the West Bank and Gaza. According to IFJ there had been 3,000 transgressions against Palestinian journalists by Israel in the last 4 years, 26 of which had been murders. Of course, we were tear-gassed long before we even made it to the checkpoint. Details about what happened can be found here and here.

My third day was supposed to be a low-profile report, but it ended up being one of my most precarious. As usual in the oPt, settlers were reported to have harassed some locals, so three members from ISM, including myself, traveled to Mazra’a al-Qibliya to verify, report, and publish what happened. But as the locals were showing us the vandalism of their property and told us of the violence they had been met with, an armed settler approached the property. I was reminded that we were in a virtually lawless land as he rode in on horseback brandishing a handgun and provoking the residents to react – which they did by throwing rocks. It’s important to keep in mind that Palestinians, by law, cannot own firearms, essentially leaving them defenseless against armed settlers trespassing on their property. For the next five minutes the man circled the property, firing off seven shots, two of which whizzed right by my head, and one by my teammate’s. Details can be viewed here. This particular situation illustrates just how perverted the entire occupation is. We know that many people from all over the world arrive in Palestine to be “settlers.” One can only speculate on their particular motivations, but I was struck with the idea that many may do so to play the role of “occupier,” the role of “cowboy.” And they certainly do this. One might surmise that many of these internationals romanticize the “wild west”, and possess a desire for a rugged dominion over brown people. One could assume that. But for whatever reason the settlers do come, the Israeli government employs these international racists and bullies to continue their systematic degradation, cantonization, and murdering of Palestine’s native population.

A settler brandishes a handgun trespassing on Palestinian property. Photo credit: Henry Todd

When you’re caught up in such embattled circumstances, all you care about in the moment is where your teammates are. Are they okay? Am I okay? When you get back to your home-base and wash off the chemicals, ice the bruises, or bandage the wounds, you’re thankful that you at least came out of it alive. When the dust truly settles, it’s time to ask yourself the question: how can I use this experience to help the victims?

This is where reporting comes in and why it’s so interconnected to solidarity work. Tell the public what happened – discuss it, write it, publish! Know the context of the demonstrations in which you participate. Bring the experience home! Don’t forget what you saw. Don’t compartmentalize. Bring the fight home as if you were going to be gassed in your own neighborhood. National and local politicians have not likely experienced what you have. Use that against any of them who would protect the Israeli occupation of the Palestinians, who would support anti-BDS legislation, who would call Palestinians – the people you demonstrated with, had conversations with, the people you got to know – terrorists.

For example, since coming back, I have begun connecting with my local community to begin organizing a political force for Palestine. Personally, I decided to approach religious leaders first – just an instinct. But remember, all civic action begins with conversation. Knock on doors, approach local leaders – religious and political. Go to your town-hall meetings. Talk to your neighbors. This will not cost you anything except time. Some of the most important direct actions I have planned for the future are living-room discussions: “would you be willing to give me ten minutes of your time…?” In my view, living room discussions aren’t only about educating people on Palestine, but also about building political power within the community. I’ll also engage students at local universities to do the same thing. The idea is that if you keep speaking, and keep engaging people, you’ll eventually get a larger platform, and a larger audience, and thus a larger political force within your community.

My representative is one of the most hard-core Zionists in congress, and he’s a Democrat. For reasons of keeping my vulnerable political project safe, he’ll remain anonymous for now as he is the target of the project. This is how I present a case to my community for participation in political action, after we have engaged in dialogue:

To underscore my goals as they stand in regard to Palestine:

Intended results:

Through grassroots political power, enable [member of Congress] to:

BONUS RESULT (much harder):

Ideas for getting started:

It is my personal belief that organizing a whole coalition of constituents that are able to influence, or unseat a congress member due to their “troubling stance” on Israel and Palestine will cause huge ripple effects throughout the political establishment. It would enable representatives such as Rashida Tlaib and Ilhan Omar to continue their fight for Palestinians. Of course, one should come up with their own project based on one’s own findings and ideas. Just remember to engage your community. Make your solidarity work count! Also remember that while creating something new from the ground-up is extremely important, it’s also important to connect with organizations that already exist! Jewish Voice for Peace and National Students for Justice in Palestine come to mind. Remember that the Palestinian issue is an International issue, but particularly so if you’re an American. This is not an obscure crusade for justice, but your civic duty to fight for the rights of Palestinians.