Have you had a chance to think much about borders, besides the pain of waiting in line to have your passport checked and visa approved? If not, take an hour or two out of your time to watch al-Hudud (”The Border”), a Syrian comedy starring Durayyid Lahham and Raghda, and written by esteemed writer, the late Muhammad al-Maghout. In al-Hudud, the aloof but incredibly perceptive traveler Abdel Wudud attempts to pass between two countries named Sharqistan and Gharbistan (in Arabic, sharq is “east,” and gharb “west”) when he ends up losing his passport somewhere between the two checkpoints marking the entrance to each country. Despite his numerous attempts to explain the situation to the senior guard at both ends, he is merely sent in circles back and forth, as each one promises to allow him in with the permission of the other side.

One of the themes running through this film is the relation between the human and the state, between one’s existence and the representation of that existence. Having lost his passport, Abdel Wudud finds himself in an impossible situation with no apparent resolution, unable to enter the new country or return to the old one. Even though his name is recorded in the logs of the originating country, the officer there will not give him a document stating as much because he requires proof that Abdel Wudud, the person, is in fact the same as Abdel Wudud, the entry in the log! Because that “proof” is apparently the passport itself, the condition is impossible to satisfy. The dilemma here is reminiscent of one of James Scott’s observations in Seeing Like a State, the passport (being the representation of the human to the state) is actually the primary concern of the state official, rather than the actual human. States and their infrastructures, after all, do not work with or on humans; they work with some representation of them, whether that is a passport, a census, or a birth certificate. The latter is probably the most entertaining of this set: it certifies to the state that you were, in fact, at some point in time, born in some place–as if a human can come to be by any other means! Soon enough, the certificate comes to be more important than the human, as we can see in Abdel Wudud’s encounter with the officer. The obstinacy of the officers involved along with the absurdity of the scenario offers what is probably an unbeatable example of one of the many inverted relationships of our world, where rather than the law serving the needs and wants of humans, humans are actually serving the law, often to the detriment of other humans.

But Abdel Wudud’s experience does not end there: he takes his dilemma out to its logical conclusion, building himself a small lodge in which to reside between the two checkpoints on the border. Unable to go in any direction, he settles on the border and makes a living providing food and refreshments to travelers in the roadhouse that he has built. Having painted a white line signifying the border literally through the middle of his house, he simply hops to the other side in order to avoid being captured or harassed by the few soldiers who are posted on each side (and with whom Abdel Wudud later develops a chummy relationship over a few drinks). When the soldiers issue mighty and bombastic declaratives that “the border is meaningless” to them and thus will not impede their pursuit of him, Abdel Wudud catches them in their lie, exclaiming desperately: if it is so meaningless, then let me pass! The soldiers are not moved. In what is yet another of the film’s brilliant moments, we see one of the many difficulties of the border: while it is easy and fashionable to pretend to “transcend” it or to belittle its “meaning,” it is, in actuality, a rather real presence and obstacle.

While some aspects of Abdel Wudud’s story can be generalized, insofar as the frustrating reality of a bureaucracy whose existence is premised on a world translated into papers is concerned, his experience should not be divorced from its specific context, since this is the framework which gives his dilemma meaning and imparts purpose upon the movie within its own social and political context. In many of his encounters with the soldiers and officers on both sides of the border, Abdel Wudud repeatedly remarks, but isn’t this all one country? Indeed, when he first loses his passport, he is certain he will have no problems for that very reason. The expression reflects a particular pan-Arab outlook, which historically has been supported by the fact that many of the borders that currently delineate the various Middle Eastern states were in fact decided upon by the colonial powers in the last century according to their own utilitarian desires, inventing states that did not even exist before.

But the romantic and political force behind the statement that it’s all one country is cheapened and challenged by the very people who declare it, as it is thrown around recklessly and meaninglessly by a number of characters. When a journalist crossing the border discovers Abdel Wudud’s rest area and learns of his story, she is infuriated and quickly publishes a story, organizes a press conference, and invites representatives from various Arab governments to a solidarity event. Her efforts and sympathies, along with those expressed by the government representatives railing away about the outrage, too, are explained by the sentiment that “it’s all one country.” This part of the story sets the stage for one of the film’s most important political critiques, as Abdel Wudud and his pregnant wife, very pleased by the show of support and certain that it has resolved their situation, attempt once more to cross the border. Expecting success, they are instead met with the same question: where is your passport? As Abdel Wudud tries to explain the situation for one last time, the officer shockingly exclaims: I know about the event, I was there supporting you! But I can’t do anything without your passport!

It seems that within the span of what cannot be more than a day or two, Abdel Wudud and his wife are forgotten by both the press and the governments, despite the earlier fanfare. This plot development is perhaps the most excoriating statement that the film makes against both the Arab governments and the press, exposing the bankrupt rhetoric of leaders who continually re-assert their “positions” but do not actually do anything about them, and in fact often exacerbate the situation. It is not a question of incapability: the capability is clear, but there is a downright arrogant refusal to exercise even what is within their means, lest their ultimate authority and superiority be undermined. The truth of al-Hudud’s message resonates even today, two decades after the film was originally released in 1987, as a reminder that those obstacles that impede our movements in every sense, are placed by those who rule us. Parallels are easy to draw if we heed the travel bans many governments have imposed on their own citizens; the difficulties refugees from Iraq are facing in fleeing the cataclysmic violence that the US occupation has wrought; the crisis of the Kurdish people whose national identity is premised on and constituted by disruptive borders; and on the continuing plight of Palestinian refugees who face all sorts of barriers in every country in which they reside.

Disappointed but resolved, Abdel Wudud leaves the office and returns to his car where he unloads all the animals he had cooped up when he closed his lodge to prepare for travel. As Abdel Wudud and his wife embrace arms and begin to walk across, the soldier guard–who had befriended Abdel Wudud at the rest area–shouts that they must stop and show their papers. The duo does not waiver, sirens sound, the soldier raises his arm and takes aim at them. Just seconds before, the camera had panned along, following the animals to confirm the sad reality that at least the chickens were able to cross the border freely. Before we can see the fate of Abdel Wudud, the shot freezes, and the credits roll.

What happens? Who knows? But that is the important point: when you leave the legitimate channels that any system has designed and defined, there are no more certainties. With the system, when you have a passport, you get through; if you don’t, you can’t pass. It’s that simple, and Abdel Wudud’s static position between the borders is regulated by the same system, even though it is an anomaly. Even in lingo, there is some balance and understanding that Abdel Wudud reaches with the powerful border guards and officials who allow him to stay neither here, nor there, but in between, as long as he crosses no lines (here, another meaning of hudud comes to mind). There might have been much satisfaction in knowing whether Abdel Wudud and his wife were stopped or shot by the border guard, or if they were actually able to pass: but what happens when the line is crossed, it seems, is something to be discovered only when, and if, we, too, can mimic the courage of chickens.

Cover art by Katie Miranda..

My contributions to this issue are:

A short introductory note

Reflect a bit on your politics.

Are you down with Palestine, with the Zapatistas, with activists in Oakland, and even the hunger-strikers at Columbia? Your political spirituality knows no boundaries, right, and you’re down with just about every struggle?

Maybe—it’d be pretty damn sweet, if you were. But down is not a feeling. It’s not something you can be by listening to el-Sheikh Imam at your apartment on Friday nights or to Gil Scot Heron while riding the bus. It doesn’t even happen when you wear Guevara on your sleeve or a kuffiyeh around your neck.

A piece on Michael Downing’s plan to keep maps of Muslim communities in Los Angeles, based on a brief he presented to Congress:

“Law enforcement and its advocates must also avoid name-calling exchanges with political jihadists, opting instead to engage them professionally on specific issues.”

These are the words of Michael P. Downing, the Commanding Officer in the Counter-Terrorism Intelligence Bureau in the Los Angeles Police Department, to the Committee on Homeland Security on October 30, 2007, regarding his plan to plot the areas Muslims have settled in Los Angeles.

One might wonder what exactly it is to to call somebody a “political jihadist,” if not a part of a so-called “name-calling exchange.” Downing, in a moment of rhetorical brilliance, appears to have himself coined the term, bringing together the stigma of jihad with something vaguely “political.” In doing so, however, he has made explicit what commentators have been saying for years regarding ideas of security in American political discourse–that “security” in our present lexicon is inevitably linked to one’s political orientation, rather than a disposition towards violent action. Explained as proactive security measures, Downing’s proposals, too, are vaguely “political.”

Please distribute this link, and make sure to send submissions in by the end of December if you would like to be in the next issue of the a-Rab magazine (January/February). If you have any questions or would like to discuss article ideas, drop a line at yaman@a-rab.net.

taken from yaman salahi‘s blog.

If you’d like to submit something for the next issue, please click here for more info and try to have it in by Nov 5!

For some people, this street party symbolizes hope and peace. For others, namely one of the organizers, it symbolizes something else:

“Ours is not a message of peace and love and coexistence,” said Daniel Lubetzky, the 39-year-old Jewish businessman who’s behind the OneVoice concerts.

“It’s a message of let’s not let this get worse,” he said. “We are fed up. We don’t love each other. You leave us alone and we leave you alone and let’s just have a state and get that done before it gets ugly.”

That’s nice. In other words: we don’t really want to talk about the relevant political issues that actually matter, we just want you Palestinians to stop acting up, so that the Israeli military doesn’t need to act up in response.

Maybe that’s only one guy, maybe Palestinians and Israelis will really come together at this party:

But don’t expect many shots of Israelis and Palestinians holding hands and singing Lennon’s “Imagine.” Israelis will gather at a park in Tel Aviv to hear well-known Israeli artists; 60 miles away, Palestinians will converge in the West Bank town of Jericho to hear Arabic musicians, including a popular, fiery, political hip-hop group.

Huh? Wait, one voice, separated by 60 miles?

As I said in the comments to Eliesheva’s post, this is one voice that we should all shout down. Is a project of separation really what we want to support?

There are already real movements in Palestine and Israel and around the world with real cooperation between Palestinians and Israelis–look at Bil`in. This One Voice nonsense is superficial, and is getting all that international attention and the support of lousy politicians precisely because it doesn’t address any of the important political issues.

Violence in Palestine is not happening because Palestinians and Israelis won’t come together for a street party. It’s happening because some people would rather party in the streets, than come together to talk politics.

(I picked up the link to the quoted article from Jews Sans Frontieres)

My articles in this issue are…:

On Parades and Protests

There was a time in American history when protests were not tolerated by those in power. We need only look back at the civil rights era to find the authorities violently repressing protestors calling for social equality and an end to the war in Vietnam, in the same way that similarly organic protests continue to be put down in other parts of the world today.At that time, protests were a genuine and effective way to oppose government policy because they were at once outside of the prevailing political system, and at the same time opposed to it….

Confessions of a Madrasa Grad

Few people I associate with know that my earlier schooling took place in a madrasa. I still find myself, from time to time, recognizing that some of my beliefs and habits today have their roots in my time at that madrasa. I see similar residue on the many people I know that also came out of such institutions. There’s some truth to the belief that the madrasas have dangerous and long-lasting effects on those who attend them….

If you’d like to submit an article for the next issue, click here and send it in by September 21, 2007! For those wondering, this is also the reason I have not posted much lately. I think the style of this blog might change in the future considering that I will be piping most of my writing to the a-Rab.

If you want a hard copy of the issue, make sure to get in touch with me.

Update 8/13/07: Shirts in lighter colors and with lower prices are now available at the online store. There are also jerseys, hoodies, sweatshirts, and other apparel.

Who is afraid of the Arabic language?

Enough people to drive Debbie Almontaser, aspiring principal of a new Arabic-themed public school in New York, out of her job. Almontaser was loosely “connected” (read: she shared office space) to a group that produced a benign t-shirt with the words “Intifada NYC” on them.

To certain anti-Arab organizations and individuals, “intifada” is something to fear. It is violent, it is terrorizing, and it is, apparently, unacceptable even to mention the word. In recent times the word has been connected to the Palestinian uprisings of the late 1980s and early 2000s, which have taken many different forms: cultural, artistic, literary, musical, political, military, violent, non-violent.

What these people do not understand, however, is that intifada, even while politically charged, is not necessarily a violent concept, nor does it come exclusively out of the ongoing Palestinian struggle against Israeli apartheid. In 1977, for example, Egypt saw what was termed the “bread intifada” in response to measures taken by then President Anwar Sadat to drastically increase the price of basic commodities. It was over a decade later that the term was commonly held to refer to the Palestinian uprising of the late 1980s.

While to those looking on from a distance “intifada” might only refer to the images seen on television, to those on the ground, its meaning has roots in an inspirational attitude and positive outlook that seeks to overturn an oppressive situation. It is the very essence of giving “power to the people,” of allowing the people to act when their interests are threatened. From that perspective, only those who fear change and justice are afraid of intifada, the concept. Fear of this concept, however, means fear of the American revolution, fear of the anti-slavery movement, fear of the civil rights movement, fear of the Vietnam era anti-war movement–in short, fear of everything that has ever helped change America for the better.

Intifada, as a concept, is one that has deep roots in oppressed sectors of American society. It is only when we call it by its Arabic name that we encounter these hysterical xenophobic attitudes. We should not pretend, anyway, that this current controversy is simply about the word “intifada.” In doing so we would be ignoring the fact that the Arabic language itself has become something worth fearing in the United States. Just last year, an Iraqi man was kicked off of a JetBlue flight (remember the name, boycott it) for wearing a t-shirt with the words “We will not be silent” in Arabic. It should not be difficult to see, then, that this is an affront to Arabs and the Arabic language as a whole, rather than the word “intifada” exclusively.

It is here that we step in to protect intifada, the concept, as well as “intifada,” the word. If intifada is something that can inspire youth in this country to organize within their communities in order to force the political system to work for them (for us), then intifada is something that we encourage in every corner of the United States. Furthermore, we will not call it dissent, we will not call it protest, and we will not call it activism–even though it encompasses all of these things. To resist the efforts by the right-wing and the popular media to demonize Arabs, Muslims, and other immigrants, we will call it by no other name: intifada it is, and in every community in this country, it will be.

The best way to achieve our political goals of pushing people to action, as well as our cultural goals of fighting fear of the Arabic language, is to increase both our political and cultural visibility. We have designed the t-shirt below with those goals in mind.

On the front, it reads:

“shake off the system that oppresses you!
(intifada in Arabic)
intifada u.s.a
act now for your community”

On the back, it reads:
“in*ti*fa*da (n)
an arabic word for ‘shaking off,’ politically it refers to popular movements that seek to rectify an unjust situation, whether it be for affordable bread or equal political rights. the civil rights movement might have been called an intifada, if it happened on the other side of the world. is that so bad?”

These t-shirts have been designed with our overall project in mind and as such, proceeds will go towards funding our new publication, the a-Rab. To order this t-shirt, please follow this link to the same posting on the a-Rab’s website and follow the instructions at the bottom of the post (there are also larger versions there). If you agree with us, please share this post and this t-shirt with your friends. If you have suggestions for other ways of selling these t-shirts, please feel free to contact us at admin@a-rab.net.

We are currently preparing for our first issue and to that end we are seeking submissions of all kinds–literature, essays, articles, cartoons, poetry, stories, briefs, photographs, etc–from anybody who is interested in our project. We are currently a volunteer-driven project, and as such it is not possible to compensate contributors for their valuable submissions. However, we hope that the obvious need for an outlet like the a-Rab will encourage people to do what they can as we get started. In addition to this, we are also looking for individuals who are willing to support us on a regular basis: for example, people familiar with layout programs like Adobe InDesign or QuarkXPress. If you’re interested in working with us on this project, your contact point is admin@a-rab.net.

Read the about page for more information:

The a-Rab is everyone recklessly slapped with a criminal label September 12th 2001; the folks who were already suspected and rejected: the dark-skinned and coarse, the multilingual with heavy scorned accents, the Muslims who pray to the East, the Arabs who sip heavily distilled grape alcohol, the Palestinians who forgot how to weep, the politically conscious, those who reject the system and won’t accept its idea of good manners.

We are not talking in terms of citizenship or ethnicity. We are speaking in terms of the cultural mainstream and in terms of what passes as “American.” In this country, they tell you who you need to be, and when you try to suggest your own alternative (that is, to create your own identity), you are abused. They would like you to be the happy Arab immigrant who is subsumed by the system, makes an art out of brown-nosing to beat all of those other foreign medical graduates in the residency programs, and becomes a well-off professional by: abandoning your political beliefs–your political consciousness!, your voice, and your relevance to society. This is what it takes to be an “American” Arab and not an a-Rab.

This castration of identity has been called by many a (European) visionary Assimilation. They heap praise on Assimilation as the way to overcome racial prejudice and discrimination, the way we can become a community with one identity that recognizes everything we hold in common. As attractive as the idea might seem, the truth is that every identity is defined by what it is not, and every community that adopts such an identity will inevitably clash with other identities, and will exclude them.

This is going to be good. Please spread the word. We need your help. Here is a facebook group to join.

This is the question, in one form or another, that we hear from a number of liberals. Its purpose is unclear, but its usage telling. There exists a certain school of thought which is totally comfortable with discarding and ignoring everything that B’tselem has to say about the occupation by shifting to an entirely different subject, spinning B’tselem’s very existence into a point of merit. While B’tselem’s many reports should be a repulsive moral blemish on the Israeli government and military, apologists for those serious crimes manage to use it as a sign of Israel’s ever-brilliant democracy. “At the very least,” they will say, “such a group exists in Israel and is allowed to exist. Where does this happen in the Arab countries?” And thus B’tselem’s reports, which should be more than enough to indict Israel, suddenly become the means by which it is acquitted.

Why would such people be so confident in their position, given that despite the cheap praise they heap on the organization (and their calls for an Arab parallel, as if one did not already exist), they would never be found in the ranks of its membership or on its roster of donors? The reason, I think, has very much to do with a type of political understanding which refuses to consider content and focuses exclusively on form. It does not matter what B’tselem is saying; all that matters is that it is saying something. This tendency, however, is intellectually bankrupt, and I hope to show some of the problematic assumptions that this line of questioning requires, not to mention its erroneous implications.

Let us look at other examples of the same question in different forms. During an appearance on Democracy Now in 2006, Irshad Manji, a self-proclaimed “Muslim refusenik and reformer,” asked the question: where are the mullahs for human rights? She repeated it as if in and of itself it was a strong point or even an entire argument. Perhaps the implication is that there is something wrong with Islam, or with Arab culture, if there does not exist an organization called “mullahs for human rights” which touts the same principles that Irshad Manji believes in, because now the measure of the acceptability of any one religion on this earth is whether or not there exists a “religious leaders for human rights” group in its name.

The search for “good” Arabs and Muslims, ones more acceptable to our sensibilities, is more common than one might think. One professor at Syracuse University, Laurence Thomas, recently fantasized to himself: “Imagine, if you can, a world in which millions of Muslims marched for peace and boycotted any and all acts of military aggression.” Professor Thomas has chosen to focus on Muslims because the non-Muslim world, as we all know, is totally overwhelmed by massive marches for peace, and a total boycott of military aggression. If you haven’t heard already, workers at Halliburton, HR Textron, Raytheon, and Lockheed Martin have joined a very popular general strike which has shut down businesses, schools, and government offices as everybody waits in total suspense for Congress to pass a new resolution boycotting all acts of military aggression and calling for world peace. Or, at least, that is what you might think coming away from Mr Thomas’ pleas for peaceful Muslims: that they are the last obstacle to world peace.

Given the insistence with which Ms Manji put forth her question, and the fascination with which Mr Thomas imagines Muslims, we might even assume that if there did exist a group “mullahs for human rights” or massive “marches for peace,” everything would suddenly be all right for Muslims and Arabs around the world. There would no longer be oppressive governments in the Middle East–oppressive governments which, as a matter of fact, are often installed, propped up, or otherwise supported by those same governments which believe themselves (and are often believed by others to be) universal symbols of freedom and liberty. There would no longer be war in the Middle East–which is often waged, if not encouraged with arms shipments and economic aid packages, by those countries who do have “citizens for human rights” groups in the first place.

What Ms Manji, Mr Thomas, and the commentator above all have in common is not their focus on petty points, but the fact that, in doing so, they reveal something about their understanding of politics. In all its forms this question appears to be the epitome of a deep sense of confusion that is found among similar ‘liberal’ commentators, as well as a general ignorance about the Arab and Muslim worlds. It seems, in the first place, that they would have a march for peace by Arabs, whatever that might mean, rather than an actual condition conducive to a non-violent atmosphere (in the case where they are pacifists, because there are those who preach pacifism while aiming a gun), and, in the second place, that they actually do believe that there exist no human rights or non-violence groups or individuals in the Arab and Muslim worlds.

While I would like to focus on the first point, there are a couple things to say about the second. First, it is easy enough to refute: one needs only to look at prisons across the region to find a number of brave activists and individuals who have been jailed for their activities and their genuine fight for justice. Second, we should consider the logic behind it: if there was a group called “mullahs for human rights,” would that mean that a Muslim or Arab society would suddenly become more acceptable to our Western eyes? If this is so, then we should take the presence of a group called the KKK in the United States to be emblematic of a reactionary, racist, and brutally violent society. This would be absurd–but then the argument becomes a numbers game, in which the errant will say that despite the KKK’s presence, they are a minority group that all the “mainstream” religious organizations condemn. To this the question should be posed: if it is a matter of numbers, then just how many Muslims for peace do we need to have before Muslim society is palatable? How many racists or reactionaries can a society have before it becomes distasteful? Any serious attempt at formulating a workable answer to these questions is undermined by the very absurdity of this type of meaningless quantification.

The second analysis that might be presented explaining why the presence of the KKK is okay in America is that the “mainstream” in Arab and Muslim countries is “extremist,” whereas in America extremists are recognized, at least, for what they are. If we look at these terms relatively (and we must, because they are), then thinking about the phrase “mainstream extremists” is an amusing exercise, and we should then understand that the only way in which this apparent oxymoron would make sense is from the perspective of somebody far-removed from the society in question. After all if you go to Iraq, Afghanistan, or Palestine and tell the children there where the bombs falling over their heads, destroying their homes, and killing their neighbors, cousins, brothers, sisters, and parents come from, they will almost certainly come up with a different definition for “extremist,” and would probably recoil away in disgust, anger, and hatred if they then learned that this “extremism” was actually quite “mainstream” in another country. Our inability to recognize the relative qualities of these words and to situate ourselves in the position of somebody who has different definitions for them, not for the sake of justifying what they believe but understanding it, is what makes it difficult to recognize how ridiculous this explanation is.

But why are some people moved to such questions in the first place? And why do still others consider them to be good or important points that are useful in analysis?

We could note, for example, that with regards to what the commentator above said about B’tselem, importance is not placed on what B’tselem has to say, but the very fact that it is saying it at all. B’tselem could be talking about the second-class citizenship of Arabs in Israel or the lack of political rights for Palestinians under occupation, but its speech, instead, is taken to signify a healthy democracy. The logic that allows for this prevails among a group of people who have difficulty considering the very possibility that there might be real and serious social, political, and economic problems under a democratic order–and this belief (that democratic countries are perfect or the best, by their very nature of being democratic) always happens to coincide with the interests of those in the superior position, be they material or ideological.

In fact, it appears that all of these real, practical problems that manifest themselves in our daily lives are wholly subsumed by the inconsistent emphasis on select liberal values. In all of these cases traditional principles of free speech are invoked to assert a moral righteousness which, somehow, manages to eclipse and effectively hide any other moral shortcomings. Perhaps on the hierarchy of moral crimes death and destruction come lower than a violation of free speech. I do not believe this, but this appears to be the logic behind the rationale “at least we have a B’tselem (that we can dutifully ignore).”

But let us look at this situation more generally. To ask where the peaceful Arabs and Muslims for human rights are, is really to suggest that there is something fundamentally wrong with Muslims and Arabs, or their culture, that prevents them from believing in human rights or being peaceful. That there are many organizations and individuals working towards goals similar to these, however, disproves that idea. One might then point out that the problem is actually that many of these people are in jail. But in doing this they themselves depart from the original idea, which is a flawed cultural theory, and attach onto a different one: that the reason these people are in jail is because the political system that rules them does not tolerate them.

These are two entirely different things, and only the second is actually true. But the second is no point at all, it is self-evident. Whosoever adopts these talking points is doing nothing more than stating the obvious by saying, “we live in a liberal democracy and they do not.” Taking this beyond a mere statement of fact and attaching a value judgment to it is dangerous because there was a time where there was no liberal democracy, anywhere, and, more importantly, there has never been a time in any liberal democracy where those supposedly fundamental liberal principles have not been threatened or curtailed by the system in question. That is, the value judgment can only make sense if we imagine all liberal democracies to be perfect. Otherwise we should be readily able to apply the same repugnance we project onto those “non-liberal” societies onto our own.

That is the way to distinguish between those who are seriously interested in the proliferation of B’tselem style organizations, and those who are simply looking for other ways to act out on their crass chauvinism by distracting attention to the ‘inferior’ values of the Other.

If anything, then, the appropriate question is not “where is the Arab B’tselem?” but, rather: “where is our B’tselem, and how can we empower it?” Anything less than taking it seriously rather than tokenizing it as the tolerated dissent is, frankly, a total bastardization of all of those liberal values we claim to have in the first place.

This article is cross-posted at my personal blog.

Yesterday, I received notice that I lost my second hearing on this
matter and have been asked to pay Lee Kaplan $7,500 in damages plus $75 in court fees. I will never know why, or what element of the claim the judge bought, because there is no written opinion. As I understand it, I have no further legal recourse because of the serious limitations of small claims court. I really don’t know what to say, except that I am certain I have been dealt with unjustly and that I am still confident I have done nothing wrong. I still believe Kaplan’s case against me to be built on a pack of lies, and something akin to a questionable conspiracy coordinated by a handful of friends and political allies.

I want to keep this post brief, so the vast majority of what I have
to say about this unfortunate outcome is on a few statements I have posted publicly on the blog, Lee Kaplan Watch, and to which I have linked below. I would ask that if you want to forward or spread this news, to do so by whatever means you can: e-mail it to others, blog about it, or share it on FaceBook, MySpace, and similar websites. Publicity is crucial at this point to make sure people know exactly what is going on.

I have also set up a fundraiser to solicit donations that will go either towards fighting this result or paying off the judgment. I ask that anybody who is troubled by this story to please read what I have written about it at the links below, draw your own conclusions, and decide whether or not this is a cause worth donating to.

Thanks,

yaman

LINKS:
Kaplan v. Salahi and the failures of the justice system – My initial reaction to the judgment and a criticism of the shortcomings of small claims court
The faulty case against me – On the merits of Kaplan’s claim against me
The danger Kaplan v. Salahi poses to bloggers and activists everywhere – A shorter overview of the entire affair

The film makes it difficult to judge the people in the film. If anything, it is a really good insight into the circumstances children face while growing up and what might drive people to see militancy as the only possible way out of the occupation.

You can view the entire film on YouTube. Here are all 9 parts. I highly recommend that everybody watch every minute of the film (I’m especially hoping Ray will)–it’s worth it:

[youtube]http://youtube.com/watch?v=ofHBwiszMw8[/youtube]

[youtube]http://youtube.com/watch?v=XwZft7bg-tU&mode=related&search=[/youtube]

[youtube]http://youtube.com/watch?v=NE72lUxvrXU&mode=related&search=[/youtube]

[youtube]http://youtube.com/watch?v=K8P3PsezZSo&mode=related&search=[/youtube]

[youtube]http://youtube.com/watch?v=AxWJnoMnPVE&mode=related&search=[/youtube]

[youtube]http://youtube.com/watch?v=dVDqrhJD4ck&mode=related&search=[/youtube]

[youtube]http://youtube.com/watch?v=Ho7EqLdIJss&mode=related&search=[/youtube]

[youtube]http://youtube.com/watch?v=zqNgbbzYrPo&mode=related&search=[/youtube]

[youtube]http://youtube.com/watch?v=_Eg-lYLSERA&mode=related&search=[/youtube]