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Jewish Voice for Peace Advocates for Palestinian Rights

Dale Colleen Hamilton

edendale24@gmail.com

April 2024

My friend Esther Farmer has lived in Brooklyn her whole life. Her parents, Palestinian Jews, immigrated there in the 1920s. Her father, a politically progressive activist, was labelled a communist and black-listed, making it difficult for him to find work. Her mother was way ahead of her times and her support for the Palestinian cause was loud and often fierce and she battled sexism fearlessly.

Esther calls herself culturally Jewish, religiously atheist, politically non-Zionist and passionately pro-Palestinian. She’s been involved with Palestinian rights organizations for decades and is on the leadership committee of Jewish Voice for Peace, whose membership has exploded since the war on Palestine began. Their protests have attracted thousands of people and have included shutting down Grand Central Station and the Manhattan Bridge.

On my recent visit to New York City, I went with Esther to several pro-Palestinian anti-war demonstrations. She says there’s some form of pro-Palestinian protest almost every day, so there were plenty of choices. While I was there, she did a reading from a book she co-edited, A Land with People as well as several zoom presentations. She lives and breathes Palestinian rights these days. One of the most moving things I’ve heard her say is that her grandmother told her that Palestinians, Jews and Arabs used to live just fine together in Palestine, until in 1917 the British decided, in their imperial “wisdom,” to "declare" that Palestine should be a Jewish state through the Balfour Declaration.

The first protest we went to was intended to take place in front of the Brooklyn home of Chuck Schumer (Democratic Senate Majority Leader) but police in riot gear blocked his street. Schumer is being targeted, in part, because he was given over $100,000 in campaign contributions by pro-Zionist AIPAC (American Israeli Public Affairs Committee). In response to the police blockade, the effigies of dead swaddled children being carried by the protesters were laid at the feet of the police. And the protesters read aloud a list of 64 names of dead Palestinian children. These names represented one tenth of one percent of the children killed since Oct 7th. It would have taken 24/7 for 2 days to have read all the names. As the names were spoken, I found myself watching the faces of the police officers for any glimmer of support or remorse, but they were well-trained to show no emotion. However, as the procession wound through the Saturday farmers’ market, many people stopped and quietened respectfully.

Another protest we attended was staged in front of the United Nations in Manhattan. Again, riot police were in full force. Although no arrests were made, Jewish Voice for Peace always has a lawyer present and a team of members ready to support anyone who does get arrested, as was the case during the Grand Central Station action, where over 300 people were arrested. To me as a Canadian gentile outsider, the most striking element of this protest was the range of participants, including Armenian and Kurdish rights activists, an Iranian Feminist group and about a dozen Orthodox Hasidic Jews, who have been demonstrating for Palestinian rights and denouncing Zionism and the Jewish state for years. It was the Sabbath so they aren’t allowed to take public transit or drive, so they had walked from Williamsburg, over 6 kms each way. Although Hasidic Jews are sometimes criticized for sexist practises, I couldn’t help but admire their dedication to the Palestinian cause.

In between demonstrations, we had the best Middle Eastern food I’ve ever experienced at a Palestinian restaurant called Ayat on Cortelyou Road in Brooklyn. Their menu includes a call for an end to the occupation and asks diners to “pray for peace for all”. The meal we had there felt sombre, but it also felt like a celebration of the swell of awareness and support for Palestinians and a rethinking of what it means to be Jewish and Israeli and the role US-made armaments play in the genocide.

By a stroke of dumb luck, I got the last rush ticket to see a sold-out play called The Ally, at the Public Theatre in Greenwich Village. In keeping with the apparent theme of my trip, it was a play about the Palestinian Israeli conflict. It presented all sides of the issue, which left my head spinning. In the lobby after the performance, a man who sounded like he knew what he was talking about said he thinks it will be remounted, which makes sense, seeing as it’s such a timely and important topic.

And oh yes, by way of contrast, while in New York I also experienced cherry trees in bloom (eerily early), an earthquake (4.8 magnitude centered in New Jersey) and the solar eclipse, which we watched grow to 90% totality in Prospect Park. And after the intensity of the protests, back at Esther’s each evening, we’d sit on the couch and watch Democracy Now and Aljazeera, trying to make sense of a world apparently on a collision course with itself.

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Performing on the streets of Glasgow

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Protest & Performance on the Fringes of COP26

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Optimism Spectrum Disorder Self-Diagnosis from the Fringes of the Glasgow COP26 UN Climate Change Summit

Part One

During the two weeks I spent at COP26, I found that “diagnosing” myself helped me accept my topsy-turvy tumultuous feelings. My self-imposed diagnosis was Optimism Spectrum Disorder, characterized by wild fluctuations between extreme pessimism and cautious optimism, with episodes of cynicism, depression, joy (sometimes perhaps delusional); and throughout those various swings, a deep admiration for the widespread passion to preserve our species and the natural world and the growing re-realization that the two are indelibly linked.

It helped to view my emotional and intellectual reactions to COP26 as a spectrum – that I didn’t have to come down firmly on the side of anything – that, for instance I could allow myself to sympathize with both the protesters and the negotiators and even some politicians.

As a former politician, (granted in a small rural municipality) I’m more sympathetic than most to the inherent complexities and challenges of holding public office. Therefore, I wish the impossible -that armchair politicians (heavy on criticism, light on strategy) spend 6 months as a politician and then let’s talk. What I took from Obama’s address to COP26 is that in a broken democracy, with partisan politicking and corporations with fingers in every political pie, achieving even passionately held goals becomes difficult and sometimes impossible.

Amongst the many memorable characters I met on the fringes of COP26 was a long-time Welsh activist/poet. We spoke about our decades as activists (close to a century combined) and the various varieties/stages (another spectrum?) of activism, such as: simply demonstrating in the streets repeating catchy slogans; lobbying politicians; contributing time and/or money to NGOs; running for political office or working on campaigns to elect like-minded candidates; buying shares in un-like-minded corporations and speaking up at shareholder meetings; civil disobedience, etc. In facing the climate emergency, we need all these forms of protest, from Greta’s simplistic soundbites to the convoluted complexities of actually hammering out deals between wildly divergent stakeholders, especially when the stakes are so high.

As a delegate to COP25 in Madrid and co-author of an evaluation report for the UN, I know how bogged down big institutions can get. That’s why I’m loath to dismiss COP as a “failure”, as so many NGOs have done. Rather, I see failure/progress also on a spectrum. In the case of COP26, some progress was made on: methane and deforestation reduction; getting fossil fuels into the pact wording; and a requirement for signatories to report on progress annually, rather than every 5 years as established in the Paris Accord. I also take heart from an historic agreement signed by the G20 in Rome (just days before COP) that imposes a 15% tax on the world’s biggest corporations. This is progress.

Reaching the optimistic end of the spectrum is not a straightforward trajectory, there being no single green bullet to arrest climate change. Here’s my list of climate change innovations that are edging me towards optimism:

o Nature-based approaches such as: embracing Indigenous traditional knowledge when offered; regenerative low or no-till agriculture; preserving and enhancing habitats for sea grasses that capture carbon 35 times faster than rainforests; and utilizing mycelium (fungi) for toxic spill cleanup and as a plastic and concrete substitute; not to mention the recent breakthroughs allowing psylocibin mushrooms to be used therapeutically- breakthroughs delayed by decades of “reefer madness” and “war on drugs” mentalities.

o Tech-based innovations such as those I “ate up” in the Green Zone at COP26- exciting developments such as: glass that uses 90% less carbon in the manufacturing process; green hydrogen (generated using solar & wind); photovoltaics that generate thermal and electrical energy; recycling polyester clothing for use as packaging and printing surfaces; compact more-affordable electric vehicles; a 2-D material called graphene (a graphite flake one atom thick and structured like a honeycomb, harder than diamonds and stronger than steel) for low-carbon powerful solar batteries and lighter more fuel-efficient airplanes; “urban mining” of e-waste; solar cells that can be printed on flexible roofing materials and stored in next-generation batteries; recycling building materials using sorting robots; and vertical farms in defunct oil & gas industry office towers.

o Climate change education to encourage lifestyles changes, recognizing the important role of the arts. I saw this bear itself out at COP26, with the most engaging protest moments having some artistic component, whether it be the Margaret Atwood inspired Handmaids’ funeral marches; creative homemade banners and placards; costumed tableaus; die-ins; giant puppets; drummers; and my one-woman show that I performed at fringe events and in the streets (more about that in my next blog). It surprised me how even sitting on my stool in my farmer costume, holding a sign reading “Soil Not Oil: Farmers for Climate Change Solutions” and munching on a big carrot resulted in interviews with BBC, RTE, a journalist from France and others.

o Rethink and restructure financing. Create Green Bonds at all levels of government (comparable to Victory Bonds after World War 2). This is part of what’s called New Economic Theory, which promotes the idea of bypassing the banking industry and their self-perpetuating cycle of loans and indebtedness. Many countries (Canada included) did exactly this in order to finance their response to the pandemic. Climate change is an emergency of at least equal magnitude to COVID19 and WW2 and Green Bonds are an important way to finance climate change solutions.

o Support new media endeavours, like the father & son team from the north of England who recently created their own online news platform called Collab Virtual World and interviewed me and others outside the Blue Zone; and a multi-faceted platform called See-Through Media launched at COP 26 by former CNN correspondent Robert Stern (more about that in a future blog).

Something Obama said during his address at COP26 really stuck with me. To paraphrase: stay angry and stay frustrated about climate change-you have every right to be. But don’t get bogged down in those feelings-think about it deeply and talk to people about it and find a community of people and take whatever actions you can.

Those words bring some order to my disorder.

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Kettled by Cops at COP

I had a terrible encounter with police in Glasgow. A Police Liaison volunteer helped me get out of being detained (kettled) by police and asked that I make a report that she’s now forwarding to the Network for Police monitoring. Here’ s my report:

I’m a senior citizen from Canada who came to Glasgow because of the summit. I attended COP25 in Madrid as a delegate but this time I attended to perform my one-woman show as a fringe event. I attended the Green Wash demonstration on Wednesday and was trying to catch up to the group I was walking with (after being delayed by a journalist interviewing me) when I suddenly found myself amongst those who were “kettled” for approximately two hours for no apparent reason. I have a prolapsed bladder (and I can provide a medical certificate as proof), which means I have to urinate frequently and urgently.

Over the course of the time I was kettled, I asked five times to be let out to urinate but my request was denied. I tried both male and female officers and even told them about my prolapsed bladder. I eventually suggested that a female officer accompany me to a toilet and then bring me back, but that request was also denied. I spoke to a Sargent, but she said that nobody could leave. Several officers told me we’d be released soon (which didn’t happen). The duration of the kettle made no sense and no explanation was offered, even when requested. As I got more desperate, I told several of the officers in the line that I might be forced to pee in the street drain (which had been suggested by a Wellness volunteer, if all else failed). An officer said “I wouldn’t suggest that”, in a condescending way, so I asked “Why? Would I be arrested for public urination”? He didn’t reply. Finally a Wellness volunteer suggested I try the other end of the police line-that she’d seen them let somebody else through. So she went with me and told them I have a “medical condition” and needed a toilet. Those seemed to be the magical words and they let me out.

I used the toilet in a nearby pub (The Drum & Monkey) and when I came out, the kettle was still being enforced. Other protesters were starting to gather outside the kettle and chanting “let them out”. I tried to get an explanation for why they were being held and if they would be arrested and on what charge, but was getting nowhere. Someone suggested that the officers in orange hats have more authority, so I tried asking them, but they had no logical explanation. One officer told me quietly that he was surprised that the protesters were being held for so long. Then another line of officers arrived and started pushing back the people outside the kettle. This made no sense and I expressed that; and that the police were the ones creating the confrontation; and that all they had to do was release the kettled protesters and they would join the protesters outside the kettle and we could all keep moving to the protest destination. But they kept pushing us back, creating a space between the two sets of protesters, as if they thought the kettled people were going to charge out and trample the rest of us. This would have made some sense if one group were counter protesters, but we were all part of the same peaceful group. I had my theatre costume and set with me in my bag on wheels and a police officer kicked it twice, before I could get the wheels turned in the right direction. A female police officer then pushed me on the chest and my glasses fell off. A young person nearby took a photo of that officer’s badge and then took a photo of that photo on my camera. I don’t really want that officer to get into trouble-she was following orders to push us back and the line of officers were walking in lock step so she didn’t have any choice, I suppose. A protester who lives in Glasgow told me that there had been a lot of tension with the police prior to the summit and that he expected the cops would make some kind of “show of force” like this, in part to get back at the local protesters. A legal observer told me that the police are saying the people in the kettle were being “legally detained for security purposes”. I’d like to know what the security issue could have been for them to justify detaining random peaceful protesters for over two hours, resulting in a violation of the human right for access to essential services such as toilets. This stinks.

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Here’s the details of my next performance in Glasgow.

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Travelling on a fast electric train to the UN Climate Change Summit in Glasgow Scotland. Watch for blogs from me throughout the summit.

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Poem: Women Who Pee in the Woods

I love women who pee in the woods.

They are the ones who find it unnecessary to seek a ladies’ room,

standing politely in line

for the luxury of flushing gallons of drinking water

and wiping with wads of toilet paper.

In the woods these women

use a bit of tissue if they have it

Or a leaf if one presents itself

Or they allow themselves to drip into the earth & air dry in the wind.

These women I love have more important things on their minds

than fussing about where to relieve themselves.

In the woods when they squat,

if they almost close their eyes and if the sun’s coming

at a golden late-afternoon angle

they are sometimes offered a glimpse of distant women ancestors

born of the woods and squatting in the woods

to give birth and give thanks.

These are the women I love,

the women who pee in the woods

not to mark a territory

but to receive the earth’s messages.

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Poem: Where COVID Came From

Dedicated to all those who have died from, suffered with

and fought against COVID

Gaia, the Greek personification of the Earth

and Brigit the Celtic Goddess (pre-Christian variety)

sat down to high tea.

One of many things they had in common

was a preference for the British approach to tea,

featuring as it does finger sandwiches and sweeties.

Being women of strong appetite

they devoured the finger sandwiches and ordered more (twice)

But before they’d finished their first pot of tea

they’d agreed that it was high time

for human beings to change their ways.

Over their third serving of clotted cream

Gaia and Brigit mused about what they could possibly

rain down upon the human race

To slow people down

To incite them to respect and protect the Earth

To throw a wrench in the works of carbon emissions

To persuade them to let go of fossil fuels

To inspire them to embrace the power of sun and wind

To encourage them to help their neighbours

To take the profit out of elder care

To improve and extend health services

To honour essential workers

To house the homeless and under-housed

To recognize drug addiction as a disease, not a crime

To implement universal childcare and guaranteed annual incomes

To remind science that physical, mental and spiritual health are intimates

To prove that governments can create new money deficits can be investments

To screw up hedge fund depravity and stock market piracy and democratize investing

To balance out patriarchal colonization with matriarchal de-colonization

To move from Indigenous reconciliation to reconciliaction

To open people’s minds to the many forms of other and of colour

To force humans to re-evaluate what really is essential.

Gaia and Brigit, clinking their delicate tea cups (just for the tinkling sound of it)

mused that this wake-up-call would need to be something world-wide

And it would need to force people to mostly stay home for many months

And it would need to come in waves and variants until it finally hit home.

Gaia and Brigit finished their tea

and made their exit through the back door

pocketing leftover scones and a sliver teaspoon each.

On their way to a protest blockade

they gave the spoons to a soup kitchen

and the scones to a hungry-looking woman

who thanked them with her eyes.

Then they made a call to a microbial friend.

And then they hatched a plan.

It was a novel plan.

It was a plan that made them cry and smile

because it involved the depths of human sorrow and the heights of human hope

all in one delicate tea cup.

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Why this blog, why hummingbird?

I've created this blog to reach inward and reach outward with my writings, photos and videos. My writings include: plays, short stories, essays and poems.

Here's the story behind why I'm calling it HummingbirdPost. I was given the name Swutzalee by my dear Coast Salish Indigenous friend Shane Point, who is pointing at us here (pictured above).

In the Hulkameenan language, Swutzalee means hummingbird and he gave it to me after I had an intense experience with a hummingbird and because I’m, well, kinda buzzy. Just before COVID hit, I decided to get a hummingbird tattoo (pictured above) to honour my connection to my higher self and in preparation for a Coast Salish ceremony. But more about that in a future blog.