Beyond being right
18/07/14 05:54
Yehuda Amichai is widely regarded as Israel’s greatest modern poet. Recently Parker Palmer offered a short reflection on Amichai’s poem, “The Place Where We Are Right” for the On Being website. The poem has gotten me to thinking about the nature of our political conversations.
The Place Where We Are Right
by Yehuda Amichai
From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the Spring.
The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.
But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plough.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
were the ruined
house once stood.
Amichai, of course, writes from the midst of the ongoing conflict between Israel and Palestine. Generations of people displaced by some of the deepest horrors of human cruelty have ended up in a desperate struggle for a tiny plot of land. Both sides claim that they are right and that their right gives them the authority to use weapons against others.
And from the security of knowing that they are right more innocent victims are created and more voices join the chorus of “we were wronged by the others and we have the right to retaliate.” Palestinian rebels cite the years of oppression and confinement in Gaza and the manipulations of employment and water systems and the indignities suffered at checkpoints as justification for lobbing rockets at Israel. Israel cites the horrors of the Holocaust and the innocent victims of random attacks as its right to use deadly force to defend its citizens.
Both sides should loudly that they are right and justified in their actions.
Who is right and who is wrong seems like a philosophical luxury when there are infants among the corpses.
What if those in Palestine who question the morality of lobbing rockets against civilian targets were the voices that were heard? What if those in Israel who question the ratios of death were the loudest voices? When is the body count extreme? 100 deaths in Palestine for each death in Israel? 250 to 1?
What if the doubters’ voices were heard.
Amichia’s poem settles uncomfortably in the back of my mind as I ponder the horrors of 298 people perishing when a missile downed a civilian airline over Ukrane. The war whose dynamics we don’t understand with separatists backed and armed by Russia has now spread far beyond the borders of that disputed territory. Victims included AIDS researchers in route to a conference in Australia. Nearly 300 innocent people downed by ill trained troops armed with surface to air missiles capable of downing large airplanes, but apparently incapable of discerning the difference between military and civilian planes.
There must be doubts among the rebels today.
There must be doubts among those who have backed, funded and armed them.
The world will probably never see it, but I suspect that there may even be doubts in the mind of President Vladimir Putin of Russia: a man with the power to stop the flow of money and heavy weaponry to the insurgents.
Mind you there is not enough information for me to be certain. I know what I think, despite the denials of the pro-Russian separatists in eastern Ukraine. But my information comes from the reports of journalists whose biases show in the face fo the blackened wreckage and the rising stench of death.
But can anyone seriously doubt that the passengers on the plane were innocent victims of a conflict in which they had no part?
Some days the luxury of arguments about who is right and who is wrong bears too high a cost. How many people have to die before we declare that regardless of the arguments about who is right and who is wrong the violence needs to stop. Whether you are dead right or dead wrong you are still dead.
Many years ago I learned that life doesn’t have a “rewind” button. You can’t unsay the harsh words you have said. You cant un-see the horror once you’ve views it. There are plenty of mistakes and misjudgments that cannot be undone. The Malaysia Jet cannot be un-targeted. The field where the wreckage fell can never be anything but hallowed ground.
It is from the horror of this incident that we must raise our voices - not from the certainty of knowing who is right and who is wrong, but from the doubt and pain of the death of innocents. From this ground the world needs to cry out loud enough to end the conflict.
To call a cease fire.
To stop the flow of weapons.
To look for alternative ways to seek justice for those who are embroiled in the conflict.
We know it is possible. We have witnessed it in the slow but steady healing of South Africa. We have witnessed it in the uneven, yet discernible journey toward peace of Northern Ireland. The truth that brings reconciliation is deeper than the claim that we are right. Peace is a product of setting aside the claims of right and wrong and moving beyond the cycles of retribution and revenge.
Perhaps it is only when we realize that there are no winners in war that we are able to stop adding to the lists of the losers in war.
For today we must look at the grim images of the columns of smoke rising and sit with our questions. We must be honest enough to admit that we don’t know who is right and who is wrong.
Today is a day to sit with our doubts. And name our loves. We love life. We love other people. We love the diversity of this creation. We love the honest innocence of children. We love the freedom to travel. We love new experiences. We love our faith that boldly declares that death is not the end.
And perhaps our doubts and loves will till the soil of our broken world so that new life may one day emerge from the ashes of conflict.
The Place Where We Are Right
by Yehuda Amichai
From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the Spring.
The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.
But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plough.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
were the ruined
house once stood.
Amichai, of course, writes from the midst of the ongoing conflict between Israel and Palestine. Generations of people displaced by some of the deepest horrors of human cruelty have ended up in a desperate struggle for a tiny plot of land. Both sides claim that they are right and that their right gives them the authority to use weapons against others.
And from the security of knowing that they are right more innocent victims are created and more voices join the chorus of “we were wronged by the others and we have the right to retaliate.” Palestinian rebels cite the years of oppression and confinement in Gaza and the manipulations of employment and water systems and the indignities suffered at checkpoints as justification for lobbing rockets at Israel. Israel cites the horrors of the Holocaust and the innocent victims of random attacks as its right to use deadly force to defend its citizens.
Both sides should loudly that they are right and justified in their actions.
Who is right and who is wrong seems like a philosophical luxury when there are infants among the corpses.
What if those in Palestine who question the morality of lobbing rockets against civilian targets were the voices that were heard? What if those in Israel who question the ratios of death were the loudest voices? When is the body count extreme? 100 deaths in Palestine for each death in Israel? 250 to 1?
What if the doubters’ voices were heard.
Amichia’s poem settles uncomfortably in the back of my mind as I ponder the horrors of 298 people perishing when a missile downed a civilian airline over Ukrane. The war whose dynamics we don’t understand with separatists backed and armed by Russia has now spread far beyond the borders of that disputed territory. Victims included AIDS researchers in route to a conference in Australia. Nearly 300 innocent people downed by ill trained troops armed with surface to air missiles capable of downing large airplanes, but apparently incapable of discerning the difference between military and civilian planes.
There must be doubts among the rebels today.
There must be doubts among those who have backed, funded and armed them.
The world will probably never see it, but I suspect that there may even be doubts in the mind of President Vladimir Putin of Russia: a man with the power to stop the flow of money and heavy weaponry to the insurgents.
Mind you there is not enough information for me to be certain. I know what I think, despite the denials of the pro-Russian separatists in eastern Ukraine. But my information comes from the reports of journalists whose biases show in the face fo the blackened wreckage and the rising stench of death.
But can anyone seriously doubt that the passengers on the plane were innocent victims of a conflict in which they had no part?
Some days the luxury of arguments about who is right and who is wrong bears too high a cost. How many people have to die before we declare that regardless of the arguments about who is right and who is wrong the violence needs to stop. Whether you are dead right or dead wrong you are still dead.
Many years ago I learned that life doesn’t have a “rewind” button. You can’t unsay the harsh words you have said. You cant un-see the horror once you’ve views it. There are plenty of mistakes and misjudgments that cannot be undone. The Malaysia Jet cannot be un-targeted. The field where the wreckage fell can never be anything but hallowed ground.
It is from the horror of this incident that we must raise our voices - not from the certainty of knowing who is right and who is wrong, but from the doubt and pain of the death of innocents. From this ground the world needs to cry out loud enough to end the conflict.
To call a cease fire.
To stop the flow of weapons.
To look for alternative ways to seek justice for those who are embroiled in the conflict.
We know it is possible. We have witnessed it in the slow but steady healing of South Africa. We have witnessed it in the uneven, yet discernible journey toward peace of Northern Ireland. The truth that brings reconciliation is deeper than the claim that we are right. Peace is a product of setting aside the claims of right and wrong and moving beyond the cycles of retribution and revenge.
Perhaps it is only when we realize that there are no winners in war that we are able to stop adding to the lists of the losers in war.
For today we must look at the grim images of the columns of smoke rising and sit with our questions. We must be honest enough to admit that we don’t know who is right and who is wrong.
Today is a day to sit with our doubts. And name our loves. We love life. We love other people. We love the diversity of this creation. We love the honest innocence of children. We love the freedom to travel. We love new experiences. We love our faith that boldly declares that death is not the end.
And perhaps our doubts and loves will till the soil of our broken world so that new life may one day emerge from the ashes of conflict.